Page 9 of The Summer Swap

“Is Theo here?”

“No. He couldn’t get away from the hospital, but he sends his apologies and his love.” Kristen slipped her phone back into the pocket of her jacket. “You should get dressed. You know things take you a little longer these days.”

“Things don’t take me longer.” She resented the implication that she was a crumbling shadow of her former self. “I choose to take more time over things because I can.”

Secrets made you lonely, she realized. There could be no deep human connection without honesty, and she’d hidden too much from her children to expect them to understand her. It created a distance because there were so many things she knew that they didn’t.

Kristen swept across the room and picked up Cecilia’s suit. “I can’t wait to see you wearing this. It’s going to look stunning on you and you’ll look great in the photographs.”

Cecilia imagined the caption. Cameron Lapthorne’s widow, Cecilia.

“When you were six you often refused to get dressed and go to school.”

Kristen held the suit against her body. “Is this revenge for something I did when I was six?”

“No. The reason you didn’t want to get dressed and go to school was because you didn’t see the point. It wasn’t something you wanted to do.”

“And you’re saying that today is like that? You don’t see the point? That’s hurtful, Mom.” Her eyes shone. “Planning this celebration has been a ton of work. Do you have any idea how much stress it has caused?”

“I’m sorry if you’re stressed,” Cecilia said, “but you were the one who insisted on it.”

But she was partly to blame. She should have expressed her views more strongly before now. Instead, she’d let it happen.

So much of her life had been spent letting things happen. It was time she took control, but she wasn’t sure she even knew how. Could you really change the habit of a lifetime?

Hurt crossed Kristen’s face. “This party is for you, too. I’ve put hours and hours of work into making it perfect.”

Perfect for whom?

Cecilia studied her daughter. There was definitely something different about her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it and there was no point in asking because they didn’t have that sort of relationship. They’d never had mother-and-daughter shopping trips, or mother-and-daughter spa days. She felt a stab of guilt because she knew that was partly her fault. She should have tried harder to bridge the gulf that had appeared between them.

But even so she wished that Kristen would ask, just once, what she wanted and then pay attention to the answer.

“We both know this party is not for me, Kristen.”

Kristen was still holding the suit. “We are celebrating your birthday. Of course it’s for you. I don’t understand why you don’t want to do this. Is it the paintings? Is it because we chose to use this opportunity to present a retrospective of Dad’s work? Is it upsetting you?”

“Leave it, Kristen.”

“No, I won’t leave it. All we do in this family is ignore things that are uncomfortable and frankly it’s exhausting. Let’s be honest for once. Is it grief? Does seeing his art on the walls upset you?” Kristen glanced around her. “Obviously we’ve noticed that you don’t have a single painting of his in this room.”

She imagined her children speculating. What is going on with Mother?

Cecilia could feel her heart thudding hard. It pounded against her ribs, as if giving her a warning. Was she having a heart attack? If she collapsed, then she wouldn’t have to attend the party. She could leave in an ambulance, which was a method of escape that had only just occurred to her. She wondered briefly if she could fake it. She could throw herself to the floor and clutch her chest, but there was a danger that Kristen might feel compelled to move in to look after her and that would be alarming for them both.

“His paintings are all around the house. I don’t want them in my bedroom.”

“Because it hurts too badly?” Kristen was looking at her with mounting concern. “You need to talk to someone. I’ve thought it for a while.” She paused, trying to find answers from Cecilia’s brief responses. “Or is it something else completely? Is it the fact that his work has gained even more attention since he died? It’s a constant reminder, isn’t it? It’s both wonderful and difficult.”

It was more difficult than wonderful. There was no moving on. In many ways her life hadn’t changed at all, except that Cameron himself was no longer part of it. Her life continued, only this time her companion was the ghost not the man.

“Kristen—”

“I understand,” Kristen said, “but it wouldn’t be right for us to keep his talent to ourselves. Other people have a right to enjoy his work. This is an unprecedented exhibition, of international importance. Many of the paintings have never been on display before. Fifty years of Cameron Lapthorne.”

Fifty years? Two-thirds of her life. No wonder she felt lost. She was adrift on the ocean, with no idea where land might be.

So much of life was chance.

---