‘I have cards with Grace at three,’ she returns shortly, sounding like she’s delivering an admonishment rather than stating a simple fact.
It’s just how she is. Cards is code for treatment. She does both in tandem. Another Lauren seeking distraction.
‘Make sure you don’t interrupt then.’
He nods and then walks towards me. ‘Where have you been this time?’
He leans in to peck my cheek as I offer it to him on autopilot.
‘None of your business.’ My response is tight, delivered under my breath, and even though Granny is now staring out of the large balcony window, I know her ears are attuned to us.
I don’t give him time to rebuke me. I stride past him and drop a kiss to her paper-thin cheek, my hand gentle on her shoulder, feeling only bone.
‘Morning—how are you feeling?’
The door closes behind me, signalling Philip’s departure, and I feel my chest ease just a little.
‘Old,’ she quips, and then she turns to look at me and frowns. ‘So, come on—where were you?’
‘Out with a friend.’
She thumbs the newspapers strewn across her bed. She already has one open at a page portraying me in an article about one of the charities I front, making preparations for tonight’s ball.
She traces the picture with her forefinger. ‘Just a friend?’
I lower myself to perch on the edge of her bed. ‘Just a friend.’
She looks back at me and I see her jaw is working. Something is bothering her, and her weight loss is making any sign of tension more pronounced.
‘That “friend” put this colour in your cheeks?’
She waves a frail finger at my face, her eyes sparkling as she says it, and I can’t help but smile, my guilt shining through.
She makes a low humming sound in her throat and folds her hands on her lap. ‘You need to be careful, though, child. You have the weight of the world looking on. And the name of Lauren to protect.’
I have heard this speech a thousand times, and I practically say the words along with her.
‘You’ll never be far from scandal. Not with a mother like yours. And I need you to be. I need you to be above reproach. And, heaven help him, your brother needs it too.’
Adrenaline spikes in my blood and I have to work hard to keep my face neutral. It doesn’t matter how many times they throw my mother at me; it still hurts. My mother loved my father; he loved her back. Whatever she did before then I don’t care about. But Granny does. And he chose badly, according to her.
‘Philip can look after himself.’ I focus on the bit I feel comfortable arguing with.
Her frown deepens, her eyes sad. ‘Not when he’s led around by that mother of his—and don’t get me started on his spendthrift wife. That Clara won’t be happy until she has them penniless, and the estate doesn’t come cheap. It will need to be maintained, looked after, invested in when I’m gone and—’ She breaks off and winces, the breath shuddering through her.
‘Please stop worrying. The doctor says you—’
She waves a hand at me, her head shaking as she coughs. ‘Dr Know-It-All can zip it. I’ll stop when I’m six feet under.’
‘Jesus, Granny.’
‘Language!’ she admonishes. ‘I need to know I can trust you—that you will take care of things. Philip, or rather those women, won’t be able to do anything with regards to the private estate without your say-so. Look out for him, guide him as much as you can, keep him on the straight and narrow and above all uphold our good name, I’m counting on you, Coco.’
She looks to the newspaper page again, rearranges it, then rearranges it some more.
I want to say, It’s just a name—what does it matter? Surely happiness should come first. But the last time I tried that argument I was sixteen and she refused to speak to me for weeks, persuaded my father to cut off my allowance and vetted anyone who came within a six-foot radius just in case they were corrupting me.
No, I’ve been brought up to project perfection. To be everything Granny believes my mother wasn’t. How different would my life have been if my mother hadn’t been killed in a car accident when I was just a baby? Would she have brought Granny around eventually?