‘No, but I want to. And that will be the end of that.’ She pouts, an overexaggerated gesture that’s meant to make me feel guilty. It works. I sag, defeated, as she leads us towards town. I should be supporting her newfound spirit, not raining on her parade.
‘We’ll drink wine while we get ready, too,’ she adds.
I laugh to myself, thinking this woman is a flipping stranger. And, actually, I quite love her.
I gape as Mum sashays into the kitchen, totally astounded by what I’m looking at. A fox. ‘Jesus, Mum.’
She giggles and performs a carefully executed twirl. ‘What do you think?’
What do I think? I think she’s going to the local pub, not to the Royal bloody Opera house. ‘Amazing,’ I say instead, because she really does. Her curvy body is encased in a beautiful deep blue wrap-around dress with a silver shrug. ‘Heels?’ I look down at her feet that are graced in a pair of stilettos. I’ve never seen her in heels. She has always blessed her feet with squidgy-soled flats.
She points to her toes and admires them. ‘I’m getting used to them now.’
I felt okay until a moment ago, when my stranger of a mother flounced in. Now I feel a little underdressed. ‘Sorry, you did say we are going to the Saracen’s Head, didn’t you?’ I glance down at my simple black dress, a surprising find on our shopping trip.
‘Yes.’ She takes her wine glass and sips, all ladylike. ‘Paul bought me this dress.’ She brushes down the front, eyeing me closely for my reaction. ‘A man’s never bought me a dress before.’
I half melt, half wince. She looks so pleased. She should be lavished like she deserves to be lavished, but I can’t help feeling like I’m betraying my father’s memory by being happy for her. ‘You look beautiful, Mum.’
Her cheeks flush and her red lips stretch into a wide smile. ‘Thank you, darling.’ She scrunches her dark-blond hair, boofing it up. ‘Ready?’
Every head turns as we enter the Saracen’s Head. Mum marches to the bar like she owns the place, setting down her purse and smiling brightly as Paul drops everything to tend to her.
‘A glass of your best house white, landlord,’ she says confidently, resting her bum on a bar stool. I join her, unable to stop myself from cringing as Mum and her new boyfriend flirt outrageously.
‘Anything the lady wants.’ Paul grins, a gleam in his eye. ‘You look stunning, Mary.’ Mum chuckles as Paul pulls down a wine glass. ‘And for you, Eleanor?’
‘Same,’ I squeak, looking around the bar to avoid seeing them giving each other lusty eyes. The old English pub is bursting at the rafters, and surprisingly up-to-date music is blasting from the jukebox. Right now, ‘Giant’ by Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man is gracing the speakers, and there’s even a few people jigging in the clear space across the pub that serves as a dance floor.
A glass of wine slides across the bar, and I look up to find Paul smiling at me. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur.
‘I’ll be back.’ Mum jumps down from the stool and heads off, waving and smiling at a collection of women across the way. It’s a tactical move to leave me alone with Paul. Damn her.
He’s lingering behind the bar, waiting for me to say something. I take a sip of my drink, wondering what on earth I could say. And that guilt is rising, thoughts of my dad poking at my mind.
‘I understand it must be hard for you,’ Paul begins when it’s obvious I’m not going to initiate conversation. He pours more wine into my glass when I place it down, like he’s cottoned on to the fact that feeding me wine might loosen me up. ‘With your dad and all.’
My glass is back at my lips again, anything to keep my mouth busy with a lack of words coming to me. I really have no idea what to say.
‘He was highly thought of around town.’
I pause, holding some wine in my mouth as I look at Paul. Highly thought of? I swallow and clear my throat. ‘You mean highly thought of as a bit eccentric?’ I appreciate Paul is trying to be diplomatic, but it’s no big secret that most people around these parts thought my dad was a bit cray-cray.
Paul withdraws, a little embarrassed. ‘I just want you to know that I have the utmost respect for him.’
‘He was a good man,’ I reply quietly, glancing over at my mum, who’s developed a bit of a sway as she chats. If she starts dancing, I think I might pass out. ‘But he never really gave Mum the attention she deserved,’ I add thoughtfully.
‘She has my full attention,’ Paul replies, and I look to find him smiling as he backs away and serves someone else across the bar. But his interest is constantly straying to my mum’s arse. I want to dive across the bar and slap my palm over his wandering eyes. I definitely inherited my mother’s arse. Becker’s fondness for mine is suddenly all I can think of, and I shift on my stool, waiting for the familiar discomfort from a few good spanks to kick in. It doesn’t, and I admit to myself that I miss it. I miss him. For the first time today, I lose my battle to keep my thoughts in check. I may have closure on my dad’s store and even my ex, but I don’t think I will ever really have closure on Becker Hunt. He’s got too tight of a hold on my dumb heart.