Other times Mama would cry, and Anna would try to hold her hand and pat her arm and stuff, and usually Mama didn’t want her to and she’d back away into a corner – those were the worst visits. And then other times she would hug me too hard and say sorry, sorry, sorry and that I deserved a better Mama than her and I didn’t like those visits either because I never knew what to say and sometimes she got snot on my clothes.
Then Mama moved out of the hospital and into a flat which was nicer than the old flat we’d lived in and the visits got better. To start with Anna always came with me when I visited Mama but there was no crying, and often there was homemade cake and the flat was always nice and tidy and the curtains were open. Sometimes Mama would take me out to McDonald’s or to the park to feed the ducks. To start with, Anna always came but after a while she stopped coming and it was just me and Mama.
Then one day Anna said that they thought Mama was ready to look after me again and asked how did I feel about that? I didn’t know what to say. Mama’s flat was OK and I had my own room there, but it also wasn’t as nice as it was at Rhonda’s and I knew Rhonda wouldn’t leave me alone in the house with no food. It had happened a long time ago, but I still remembered it well and it still made my tummy feel weird when I thought about it. But she was my mama and in spite of it all the biggest part of me wanted to be with her, so I said that sounded good as long as Rhonda and Anna could still be my friends and come and see me sometimes. Anna said that that would be fine and she would still be coming to see me a lot and Rhonda said that if it was OK with my mama I could even come back and stay sometimes if I wanted to or if Mama felt like she needed a bit of time by herself, and I said that I would like that very much.
And then I went up to my room and cried. Nobody noticed.
35
January 2020, La Madière, France
Hugo
Cameron is over again, unfortunately. Sometimes I hate owning a business. Hate having to suck up to people like him.
‘So what’s with the faces on everyone today?’ Cameron asks, looking around the chalet. ‘Someone died or something?’
There is an awkward silence. Matt clears his throat. ‘Cameron, yes, I’m afraid there’s been some bad news. You didn’t hear? They found a body.’
‘I didn’t hear anything – I’ve only just come up from the valley. A body? Who found a body?’
‘A piste-basher. But they think it’s a historic death – a guy who died a long time ago and whose body was dislodged by the recent bad weather. Apparently his brother’s on the way out here to identify the body and the like.’
‘His brother?’ Cameron echoes, rubbing his hand across his face. ‘Right. Poor guy.’
Matt looks at his clipboard. ‘In fact, Didier in the tourist office called me – he said he couldn’t get through to you. He wondered if you might be able to offer the brother accommodation. He thinks that, given the circumstances, the bereaved man shouldn’t have to pay to stay during his trip. Is that OK? Seems like the least we can do.’
I continue staring at my iPad, wondering if this conversation is for my benefit. Is Matt or this guy Didier trying to make Cameron look like a nice guy so that I’ll want to do business with him? I’m never very good at working out this kind of thing. Olivia would probably know, if only she were here.
‘Hmm. I’m not sure,’ Cameron says. ‘It’s rather short notice. Do we even have anything spare?’
‘It is short notice, but I imagine there’ll be something,’ Matt says. ‘I think Chalet Alpaca is free, but I’m heading back to the office in a minute, so I’ll double-check then. And it’s always good to keep on the right side of the tourist office, wouldn’t you say?’
Cameron sighs. ‘Yes, I guess so. OK then. We’ll do the right thing and help the poor fucker.’
‘So shall I suggest Chalet Alpaca, or is there somewhere else you think would be better? Though, like I say, I’d need to check what’s free,’ Matt says.
‘No, no, any of them will be fine, all my places are fantastic,’ Cameron says, pompously. ‘Whatever we’ve got that’s ready to go, offer him that. But make sure the press people let everyone know that I’m putting myself out for him. Otherwise there’s no point, OK?’
‘Yup, will do,’ Matt says, writing something down on his clipboard.
I wonder if Matt is simply writing ‘wanker’. I hope he is. That’s what I’d be doing.
Cameron looks out of the window. ‘That’s assuming the dead man’s brother is able to get through to the resort, of course. It’s still looking pretty bad out there. They might have to close the road.’
The whole day is dreadful.
I’m relieved to learn that pretty much all the lifts are closed, otherwise Simon would no doubt be trying to drag me out into the snow. Not that sitting around all day in the chalet is exactly fun, given the atmosphere. Ria is staying in her room and I don’t want to disturb her too much, the mood she’s in. Simon is sitting in the lounge, glumly staring out of the window and complaining about missing a day’s skiing. The baby is wailing intermittently, probably picking up on the gloomy atmosphere of the place. Millie checks we have everything we need before going out in an enormous coat to get the only other free chalet ready for the brother’s arrival.
I’m not sure how I feel about Cameron’s offer – is it clever PR? Is there any altruism in the gesture at all? Or is he simply, as I suspect and as it seemed from his conversation with Matt, a callous bastard, bending a tragic situation to his own advantage?
When I go upstairs later, Ria is either asleep or pretending to be. She’s been in our room almost all day. I sit on the edge of the bed and look at her. She’s so beautiful. With her eyes closed, breathing softly, she looks childlike. Would our daughter look like her? Then I feel a stab of anger, remembering what I found out. There’ll be no daughter while she’s taking the pill, will there?
I put my hand gently on her ankle and she opens her eyes.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,’ I say.
She sits up. ‘That’s OK. Listen,’ she puts her hand on top of mine. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you about the pill. Talked to you. But I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me …’ Her eyes fill with tears. I touch her face. I’ve rarely seen her cry before.
‘Sshh, darling,’ I soothe, all my anger evaporating from me. ‘It’s OK. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. And if you’re never ready, that’s OK too. You’re all I need.’ This isn’t quite true. I do want children. But if it’s a choice between no Ria and no children, I’ll take the latter. Also what I just said is the kind of thing I’ve seen people say in films to make someone stop crying, and I want Ria to stop crying.
But it doesn’t work – she starts sobbing. ‘I’m not good enough for you, Hugo,’ she wails. ‘I’m so sorry. I’ll try to be a better person. I’ll drink less. I’ll stop taking the pill. I will, honestly. I’ll stop taking it now if you like! I’ll chuck them in the bin! Or out the window! No, not out the window, animals might eat them and go sterile … do animals live in the snow?’ She leans in to kiss me and reaches down to undo my trousers. ‘Let’s have sex now! Let’s make a baby! Don’t leave me, Hugo!’