The Second Life of Sally Mottram

‘What?’

‘You won’t need it. You’re both scared shitless.’

‘Mum!’

‘Just trying to lighten things, Sam. Just trying to show I’m not a stuffy old has-been, failed utterly but so what? Is there a drop more?’

‘Just a bit. You have it.’

‘No, no.’

‘I insist.’

‘OK.’

Sam drained the bottle into Sally’s glass. There were no dregs. The days of affording wines with dregs were over.

‘You’re trying to find out, very tactfully, how much I’m still going to be good for.’

‘Mum!’

‘No. You are. And I don’t blame you. And nothing about your dad upsets me more than this. He’s left me unable to help you. To any extent. Meaningfully.’

‘I see. Well, I think I sort of knew.’

‘It humiliates me.’

‘No, Mum. It shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have to. Anyway, enough of that. We’ll get by.’

There was silence for a couple of minutes. A bus roared by, then all was silence again. They stared into the non-existent fire.

‘What exactly is your position, Mum?’

‘Your father left me debts of roughly three hundred and fifty thousand, as far as we can ascertain, though it may change.’

‘God!’

‘The house is in joint ownership and is on the market for four hundred and fifty thousand, but we won’t get it.’

‘No? It’s a nice house.’

‘It’s a nice house in Potherthwaite. I reckon that, by the time all fees are paid, I will be lucky to have fifty thousand.’

‘What’ll you do?’

‘Don’t know. Get by. I think … I actually think … something I didn’t realize … deep down your mother’s a pretty tough old bird.’

‘I’ll say.’

Sally reflected that the nearest Sam could get to a compliment was ‘I’ll say’, and to say was exactly what he couldn’t do.

She finished her drink and stood up.

‘I’m glad I got that off my chest,’ he said.

‘Good. Sleep well.’

‘I will. You too.’

‘I will.’

Neither of them would. Sally didn’t know what would keep Sam awake. He might have got that subject off his chest, but she could see that he was far from fully relieved.

There was something else, something that was worrying him even more than money.

Worrying about what it was would keep her awake.

ELEVEN (#ulink_62d947b9-79e9-53cc-af67-5b671e88eb67)

Sam’s worry (#ulink_62d947b9-79e9-53cc-af67-5b671e88eb67)

She only found out what Sam’s great worry was on the last evening, after Beth had gone to bed.

The days had passed pleasantly enough. They had made trips to Covent Garden, and St Albans, and the Great Bed of Ware, which had led Sally back to Potherthwaite yet again. How perfect it would have been for Ellie.

The evening meals had raised no problems. Sally had eaten sparingly during the day, so that she’d be hungry enough to manage, and even enjoy, Beth’s cautious cooking.

It had been after Beth had gone to bed that things had got more difficult, as mother and son had sat in their dark green chairs, in front of the blank television, trying not very successfully to sip their wine more slowly as the evenings passed. Sally could see that there was still some subject that Sam was desperately wanting to broach. But he wasn’t a broacher, and he had a haunted look, and she was haunted by his haunted look.

On the second evening, Sally had tested the ground over the question of where she intended to live. Was that the issue?

‘It was good, despite the circumstances, having all that time with Alice,’ she had said. ‘We got pretty close. It’s a shame she lives so far away.’

This had prompted Sam to test the ground himself.

‘Would you ever consider going to live in New Zealand?’

‘I don’t know if Alice would welcome that. She certainly didn’t mention it. No, I don’t think I’d want to go that far.’

‘But would you consider coming back south?’

‘I don’t know. I might. They always say you shouldn’t rush anything.’

‘No. Well, there’s no rush, is there?’

‘Would you be happy if I came to live near you?’

‘I think it would be great. And you could be very useful. You could babysit.’