Page 49 of A Midlife Gamble

Again, Marianne nodded.

‘What else did she say,’ Caro whispered. The stick in her hands snapped in half. Dropping the pieces to the ground, she sat staring into the fire.

Marianne wiped the palms of her hands together. ‘It’s almost as dusty here as it is in Cyprus.’

‘Marianne?’ Helen pleaded. ‘Can you tell us?’

‘I can.’ Marianne nodded. ‘Although it’s hard for me to do so, because I might lose my temper and I am not a pretty sight when that happens.’

No one spoke.

‘My mother was half Serbian.’

Still no one spoke.

Marianne snorted air and again, wiped imaginary dust from her hands. ‘What does it matter!’ she suddenly cried. ‘I haven’t been a pretty sight for many years…’ Pausing, her nostrils flared with irritation. ‘You are both godmother to Alex, yes?’

Caro and Helen nodded.

‘This is one of the things that troubles her. She thinks that when she dies, you won’t be there for him.’ Marianne pressed her chin to her chest and, looking down, slapped a palm across her collarbone. ‘I already told her,’ she said, lifting her hand to inspect the object she’d just crushed. ‘Not again,' she muttered, as she licked whatever it was and pressed it onto her fingernail. 'I said that Alex can come to Cyprus and live with me. We have hundreds and hundreds of orchids to keep him happy.’

Helen’s mouth fell open. ‘Alex doesn’t need to go to Cyprus! We… we’ll always be there for him!’

‘Will you?’ Marianne answered, her eyes very small.

‘Of course,’ Caro said. ‘That’s a given. Of course we would.’

‘And tell me how are you going to make that work? How can you make a decision between you? You can’t agree on anything. How can he take advice from two women who can’t agree? Do you think it will help him to be hearing different things? I have never met him, but from what Kay has told me, I don’t think it will be good for him. Not at all.’

Helen looked at Caro, who was looking right back at her.

‘This afternoon,’ Marianne continued, waving her arm. ‘When Caro says something very important, about Shook – which is no name for a husband, but there you go – you storm off Helen! And Caro doesn’t know why, and then we get here, and you’re in the saddle faster than the Lone Ranger.’

‘There was a reason—’

‘Psshht!’ The burst of air that was Marianne’s hiss blew Caro’s words away. ‘And I watched you both!’ she steamed on. ‘All through dinner. Caro is here.’ Marianne pointed to one side of the fire. ‘And Helen is over there, so interested in her plate of food andonlyher plate of food. I know I like to eat, but I’ve never seen someone pay so much attention to beans!’

‘It was that obvious?’ Helen whispered.

‘It was more obvious than Tony’s bullshit!’

‘Tony seems…’ Caro hesitated, stilled by the death-stare Marianne now gave her.

‘I haven’t finished,’ Marianne said, as if it were necessary. ‘She is even having nightmares about you arguing at her funeral.’

‘No.’ Helen sat up.

‘No…’ Caro echoed. ‘That would never happen. That …’

‘If there is one thing in life I have learned Helen…’ Marianne said, one finger pointed toward heaven. ‘It isnever,to saynever! Hassiktir!' she hissed and turned her finger, so she could see the nail. ‘I will never listen to a twenty-year-old again,’ she hissed, inspecting the other nails. 'Three left! Three out of ten!’

‘Helen… there was a lot more that you didn’t hear—’ Caro started.

‘Again, I haven’t finished!’

Caro’s mouth opened and closed.

‘Thank you.’ Marianne stretched out her leg and deep in thought, looked at the toenails of her raised foot, her mouth pulling down at the edges. ‘I had a friend once,’ she said. ‘Louise. She was British too. We met in London, when we worked together in the eighties at The Strand Hotel.’ As she spoke Marianne’s mouth softened, and her eyes became jewels, wet with tears that would never be released. ‘We also argued.’

---