As the door slams behind her, I glance at Louisa and wink and she grins, the flush to her face telling me she’s loving every second of this.
We don’t speak in case we are overheard, and it’s not long before the door opens, and the woman pops her head out. “It’s fine. She seemed quite excited about it, poor love. She only usually has one visitor, so it will make a nice change.” She laughs gaily. “She even made me apply her lipstick and brush her hair before I came and got you.”
Laughing, she holds the door open wide and then stares at her phone as it vibrates in her hand. “Sorry, duty calls. Will you be ok here for about ten minutes or so? I would stay, but this is an emergency.”
“It’s fine.” Louisa smiles warmly. “We won’t tire her out.”
“Thanks, we’re so short staffed it’s becoming impossible to…” She stops, looking mortified that her reckless words may have cost her a new resident and I say casually, “We understand and if anything, are more impressed that you provide such a welcoming home for your guests.”
She blushes a little and almost backs away from me, causing Louisa to raise her eyes and twist her lips to hide the grin.
As the woman walks quickly away, we waste no time and head inside a pleasant room, overlooking the garden with a fountain, resplendent in a sparkling lake outside.
However, the frail looking woman sitting upright in the chair by the window commands our attention because even as she nears the end of her days, Iris Young has an energy that demands respect.
“Come in and stop dawdling, children.”
Her curt voice makes us head inside quickly, and she says sharply, “Stand before me so I can look at you.”
Louisa is trying hard not to laugh as we stand like naughty kids before the principal, and she peers over her glasses and shakes her head.
“Stand up straight, girl, and stop slouching. Good posture is the best lesson you will ever learn.” Her eyes swivel to me and she frowns and clicks her lips. “Goodness me, those rings must go and what on earth possessed you to scratch ink on your skin. Wear a long-sleeved shirt next time you visit with a tie; yes, a tie is always necessary when visiting.”
She points to a chair beside hers and says coolly to me, “You will have to stand.” I nod and watch as Louisa takes the spare seat and Iris Young regards us sharply.
“What do you want to know?”
For a moment I’m a little taken aback and Louisa says quickly, “We understand you are acquainted with a friend of ours.”
“Possibly. What’s their name?”
I’m beginning to wonder if Iris does suffer from dementia because she appears as sharp as my hunting knife and I hold my breath as Louisa says, “Massimo Delauren.”
I watch keenly for Iris’s reaction and am surprised to see a softening in her expression as she smiles, which relaxes her hard features almost immediately.
“My lovely boy. Yes, he is my son.”
Now I hear the dementia shouting at me loud and clear because I have researched their family and know that Massimo and Dimitri’s parents were two different people entirely.
Louisa looks confused and Iris leans back and beams with pride. “Yes, he’s such a good boy. He comes to see me once a week and I love hearing his beautiful voice. He always was a fine singer and loves it when I comb his hair as he sings me a lullaby, just like I used to do to him.”
What the freaking fuck. The image in my mind right now is making me nauseous and Louisa says kindly, “How lovely. You must be very proud.”
“Oh, I am my dear, he is such a good man.”
I almost laugh out loud and then she whispers, “Only to me, though. He isn’t so nice to anyone else.”
“Not even his son.” Louisa throws in a curve ball, and I feel as if my heart is about to give out on me.
Iris looks confused. “A son?”
Louisa nods. “I understand he had a son who must be in his early twenties now. At least that was what my aunt told me.”
“Your aunt?” Iris looks at her sharply and Louisa says without skipping a beat, “Yes, Vivian Clark.”
I watch the blood drain from Iris’s face as she hears a name she wasn’t expecting, and to my surprise, the tears well up in her eyes as her voice breaks. “You know Vivian?”
Louisa nods and smiles kindly. “Yes, she has a son, too.”
Iris looks up in shock. “I know.”
My mind is on red alert as I wait for the answer I need, and Louisa says in a breathless whisper, “Massimo’s son.”
Iris looks surprised and the confusion registers in her eyes.
“Massimo doesn’t have a son.”
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the relief is enormous, and I almost need to sit down. Then her next words shock me all over again. “You are mistaken, my dear. Vivian Clark had a son, that is true, but Massimo has a daughter.”