Page 20 of A Dark Fall
She’s wrong. Nick could easily mess around forever and be more than satisfied. Well, for another two years anyway, until he isactuallythirty-three. I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a laugh before dropping my fork to stab a bit of sweetcorn.
“Eh? I’m thirty-one, Mother,” he states, outraged.
Mum waves her hand absently as though Nick’s age is unimportant.
“But thanks for adding a few years onto my already sensitive age insecurities.”
When I look up, he’s giving me a different kind of stare.
“Well, I suppose my dream of a house full of grandchildren rests firmly on Natasha’s shoulders then,” she says huffily, looking between Nick and me. I take this as my opportunity to excuse myself for the bathroom.
Haranguing us about our personal lives is only going to make uslesslikely to introduce her to anyone important to us. Nick more than most. Her interference in mine and Ben’s dying days was almost impossible. I always got the feeling she wanted to blame me for his infidelity somehow, as though I must have caused him to look elsewhere. To her, Ben and I were the love of the century, and Ben was perfect for her youngest daughter. I really couldn’t have done any better in her eyes. Handsome, older, talented surgeon. Even now, I think she still believes that. Despite the fact he’s now living with the woman he cheated on me with.
She couldn’t understand why we never set a wedding date. But then, neither could Ben. I put it off with the explanation I wanted to concentrate on my career, but really, it was because whenever I pictured our wedding day or our marriage thereafter, a ball of anxiety would flare up so strongly it would choke me into inertia.
My anxiety is something that has always been there, living inside me like some stray pet I don’t exactly care for but can’t seem to get rid of. Doctors aren’t supposed to have mental health issues, but this one has followed me around for years, manifesting when I least want or need it. Maybe this was part of the reason Ben looked elsewhere.
In the time we’ve been apart, I’ve had plenty of time to drag every single one of my shortcomings as well as every aspect of our relationship under the microscope, and it does not make for an enjoyable study.
On the way back from the bathroom, I check my phone. There’s a missed call from a number I don’t recognize and texts from Tamsin and Becca, both thanking me for the VIP freebie. As I reenter the conservatory, I hear Nick speaking quietly but sternly. It’s not a tone I usually hear from my brother, so it has my attention.
“... thought the sun shined out of his effing backside, but he was sneaking around long before we all knew about it, so he was hardly the catch of the century if you ask me,Mother. So, stop it. What on earth would Al care if he—?”
He stops talking immediately as I enter, the next words dying on his tongue. Mum looks into her wineglass awkwardly while Dad, who was reading his paper, looks up at me sadly.
“Oh, don’t mind me. Please continue,” I say, trying to be nonchalant.
Nick looks guiltily at me. “Sorry, sis. Not my choice of subject.” He looks at Mum, grimacing.
“Don’t tell me, he won the Nobel Prize?” I joke dryly.
Nick makes a grunt of disapproval, anger clouding his features.
“Sorry, darling. It was a silly thing, not important. Let’s change the subject. Pudding, anyone?” Mum says, standing.
“Sorry about that, sis. You know what she’s like,” Nick says while we load the dishwasher. “And she wonders why we don’t visit more often.” He shakes his head.
“It’s fine.I’mfine. But please don’t pretendthat’sthe reason you never come around, Nick.” I look at him askance.
“Yeah, fine. But it’s one of them.” His mood has turned sour, heavier too.
“You are going to have to talk to them at some point though.” I turn to him. “And as soon as you do, this will—”
“Al, please. Not tonight.” His voice isn’t hard, just tired. Pleading.
I nod, making a motion as if I’m zipping my mouth closed.
He groans. “Can’t she be happy Tash is halfway there already?”
“Yes, but Tash is in California. We’re all she has. She feels redundant, I guess. She wants lots of Marlowes running about screaming in Russian,” I say as I wipe down the worktop.
“She’s not redundant. She has Dad. Who clearly wouldn’t be able to tie his shoelaces without her.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, it could be worse. We couldallbe in California.”
Yeah, we could. Since Tash left, we’ve discussed it often. It would break Mum and Dad’s hearts, of course. Losing one daughter to the States was bad enough. It’s the reason she never warmed to our older sister’s American husband.
“Nick, shh ...” I say, glancing behind to make sure they haven’t heard.
We finish up in the kitchen and sit down with Mum and Dad, drinking tea and eating biscuits for a while longer. We chat about our semi-planned summer in France this year to my parents’ farmhouse, the earlier atmosphere from the talk of Ben long dissipated.