“Oh,” she huffs, “you and your rules. I didn’t realize you had them for yourself as well as me.”
It’s a funny thing with littles. They crave to be babied and told what to do, but then occasionally they want to assert their big side to prove that they can be grown-up and independent as well. But it doesn’t take long before they’re rushing back to daddy’s arms for comfort and cuddles. I don’t have a problem indulging Adrienne if that’s what she wants, as long as it doesn’t put her in danger.
“It’s not like I’m being attacked every time I leave the house. That guy who spat on me was gross, but he wasn’t dangerous, or a stalker. And how much hate mail have I been getting lately?”
“Some.”
“How much today?”
She would ask. “None,” I admit, sounding churlish, as if I’m disappointed that no one has sent her sick torture fantasies and death threats. I am glad the letters are dwindling, but right at this moment I’d prefer to be able to hand her a big stack as evidence of why she shouldn’t go out alone.
Adrienne seems to realize this and wraps her arms about my neck. “Daddy, what are you actually worried about? That I don’t need you? I do need you.”
I exhale long and slow through my nose. Maybe there’s something in that. It’s hard to disentangle my professional instincts from my overprotective dom side. “All right. You want an hour or two alone with your mother. I can do that, but you have to follow my instructions to the letter, no matter what.”
She smiles prettily at me as if it’s never occurred to her to break a rule in her life. “Of course, daddy.”
* * *
When Dieter drops me off at the Fitzrovia café I’m in quite a good mood. I’ve learned so much about myself since I last saw my mother and I feel like I was able to assert myself in the letter I wrote to her. Now all I have to do is assert myself with her face-to-face.
But where is she? After sitting for a while over a caramel I look at my watch and see that it’s a quarter past eleven. There are no messages on my phone, and as the seconds tick by I feel my irritation rise. She’s not an unpunctual person usually, but I suddenly remember something that happened when I was fifteen. We were sitting in her car together around the corner from a restaurant where we were meeting my father. I asked why we were just sitting there when we were already late, she said, checking her lipstick in the rearview mirror, “I’m showing him who’s in charge, darling. You’ll understand one day.”
When she finally breezes in she’s twenty minutes late. “Oh, there you are,” she says, as if it’s been her waiting for me and not the other way round.
“Hi, Mum. You look well.” She does. There’s flesh back on her bones and her color seems brighter.
We order food and I tell her about the exhibition and how it’s progressing. She’s very kind about it and seems interested, and I begin to shed some of my annoyance.
Then I say, “So. When do you think you might come home?”
She stiffens, and suddenly her bright face becomes guarded. “I’m really not coping still, darling, and you’ve got Dieter, haven’t you?”
“Yes, I suppose I’ve—”
“Though I didn’t like him much. A bit cold, isn’t he? Reminds me of your father in that way.”
There’s a waspishness to her voice that I don’t like, and I certainly don’t like her saying that Dieter and my father are anything alike. “Don’t you think you’ve wasted enough money at that place and you should come home now?”
Her mouth tightens. “Hark who’s talking. How much does that boyfriend of yours cost each week?”
I stand up so quickly that the chair shoots out behind me. There are half-a-dozen nasty words jostling for space on my tongue and it takes all my self-control not to hurl them at her. “I’ll see you when you’re ready to come home. Bye, Mum.”
She doesn’t follow me when I storm out of the café. I’m halfway down the street before I remember to call Dieter and I dig my phone out of my bag. There’s a message from Celeste.
I rearranged a couple of pieces for the exhibition, and then I had to do more, and now I think I’ve ruined the whole look of it. Crap. I’m at the Slade now if you’re around?
Automatically, I turn toward the college. It’s only
a few blocks away and I can be there and back in twenty minutes. Dieter won’t be expecting me for ages yet, and I don’t fancy getting in the car with him in the mood I’m in. My behind would regret it.
I’m on my way, I text back. See you in ten.
I pull out my phone for the third time in as many minutes. Still no message or call from Adrienne. I dropped her off just over two hours ago and I haven’t been able to settle to anything since. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach that tells me I may have made the wrong decision. The principal goes nowhere alone. Why have I broken my cardinal rule with the principal who matters most to me?
Unable to stay silent any longer, I text, Adrienne, how is brunch going?
The message remains unread for ten minutes, so I call her. It rings out and goes to voice mail. I told her to leave her goddamn phone on the table so there’s no good reason for her not to answer it. Her mother’s phone rings out, too. Swearing under my breath, I grab my car keys and head out the door.