Page 106 of Lessons in Love at the Seaside Salon
‘For a house.’
‘We have a house.’
‘A bigger house.’
‘But I never said I wanted one.’
‘I wanted to give you one. To show you …’ He sighed. ‘How much I love you.’
Then she was even more confused, because she didn’t know what a bigger house had to do with love.
‘You didn’t think that being at home more would show me that? Showusthat?’
‘It wasn’t meant to be forever. Just long enough to …’
His voice caught.
‘You could have told me,’ she said.
‘I wanted it to be a surprise. A present.’
Sitting at that table, she had been cross more than anything: that he had decided this was what she wanted, without asking her. She didn’t see that he’d been working to create something for his family, and that he thought she understood.
If either one of them had just said what they meant out loud to each other, they would never have reached the point they did.
It’s not too late, though, to say those things. To mean more to each other. For Anna to stop feeling abandoned.
‘What would you do,’ Anna says to her mother, holding her gaze, ‘if you were me?’
Ingrid’s eyes widen. Probably because Anna doesn’t usually ask her for advice.
‘I would apologise,’ her mother says.
‘What?’ That is not the advice Anna wanted to hear. Except that’s not really the nature of advice – you can’t dictate what someone else wants to tell you.
‘There is power in an apology, my darling.’
Anna frowns. ‘Says the woman who never says sorry.’
Ingrid makes a face. ‘Point taken. But I could say that it’s due to the fact that I have rarely felt powerfulenoughto apologise.’ She pauses. ‘To say sorry to someone who has caused you pain, for the express purpose of moving past that pain and forging the relationship anew, is to take on the responsibility of healing what has gone before and offering the opportunity of shared happiness in the future.’
She sighs, and Anna thinks she sees a faltering. But Ingrid’s veneer is practised, and whatever faltering there is does not last.
‘It is only for the brave,’ Ingrid says. ‘It is only for someone who is so sure of themselves they are prepared to risk that things may not turn out the way they hope, knowing that they will be all right, whatever comes.’
Anna thinks about what her mother has said. About where and how Ingrid learnt that. Because although she’s not big on apologies as far as Anna knows, maybe she has been in other parts of her life. In the time before Anna. Or maybe it came from her grandmother or her great-grandmother. Maybe they were all strong enough to take those risks and that’s why she is here now. That’s why she exists at all.
‘I’m sorry,’ Anna says.
Ingrid’s mouth opens slightly. ‘For what?’
‘For not trying harder to understand you,’ Anna explains. ‘I just focused on what I was going through. When Dad …’
She shakes off the memories. They’re too hard, too dark, too much for this sunny cafe and this sparkling place. She sees people on talk shows on television saying they need to tell people everything that pains them, but Anna has never thought that what’s in the dark needs to be dragged into the light. If it’s dark, leave it there. Bringing it to the light doesn’t make it light – it just brings a shadow to a place that used to be glorious.
There is much in her life that is light. Her children. Her home. Her mother – she can say that now. This little track she’s on, with the salon, the school, the sewing, making friends, going places … It’s not a big, flashy life but it islight. She has made it so. And she wants to share it.
‘My darling,’ Ingrid says, ‘it was not your job to understand me. It was my job to raise you and I did that. Now, if we decide to be friends, that is another matter.’ She smiles mischievously.
