Page 215 of Falling for You
Just like Dad, just like Mom, I’m fine. We’re all fine.
I’m going home. There is just one more thing I need to do first.
I rap on the ruby-red door then quickly stuff my frozen hand back into my pocket. I got on the first train to Epping as soon as I’d finished work. I didn’t bother calling Aunt Tell to tell her I was coming; she’d sent me her show schedule so I knew she’d be in, and I didn’t want to risk her putting on some form of show for me. I don’t have time for pleasantries any more. I just need answers.
‘Nathaniel!’ she gushes as she pulls open the door. ‘How are—’
‘Why won’t you come home and see Mom?’
I’d spent the entire journey thinking of different ways to say this, whether I should be polite or try and coax the answer out of her. But I don’t have the energy. I’m sick of people not telling me the truth. I just need answers.
She blinks at me, and I can see the different responses whizzing through her mind. She opens her mouth to speak, but I’ve got more to say.
‘We need you. Mom needs you. I messaged you for weeks, I called and emailed and you ignored me. Then I show up here and you act as if nothing has happened. Why won’t you see her? She’s your sister! She talks about you all the time and how much she loves you, and you barely even acknowledge her existence. You’re here in your big house and your fabulous life and it’s like we don’t exist. I’m not going to ask you to come see Mom any more, even though she’s sick and getting worse by the week, but I just need to know why.’
I break off, my heart racing. Aunt Tell just stares back at me, her eyes wide.
‘I see,’ she says, her voice hollow. ‘I think you’d better come in.’
I step past her, immediately hit by the warmth of her home and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla. She gestures for me to sit in the living room, and I opt for the same plush armchair I sat in before.
‘Coffee?’ she offers. ‘Tea?’
I’m about to refuse when I feel a pang of guilt. I don’t want to be rude to her. ‘Coffee would be great, thank you.’
She nods and walks into the kitchen, and I look round the living room. A large framed mirror sits on the mantelpiece above a golden electric fire. The curtains are dark green and a thick, heavy velvet and the ceiling is swirled like the top of a cupcake. I hear footsteps and look up, expecting to see Aunt Tell holding a tray, when instead I see …
‘Remy?’ I gape, getting to my feet. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Hello, bud.’ Remy gives a sheepish smile. ‘How are you doing?’ We slap hands and give each other a quick hug. ‘I’ll get out of your hair,’ he says, looking at the kitchen as Aunt Tell reappears. ‘But let’s go for a pint soon.’
He nods at me and gives Aunt Tell a smile. Before I can ask any more questions, he’s slipped out of the room and I sink back into my armchair. Aunt Tell puts a floral tray down on the coffee table and sits opposite me.
‘He’s a fine man,’ she muses and I try not to frown.
Remy, you old dog.
We sit in silence for a moment and I will myself not to speak. Eventually, Aunt Tell sighs. ‘Well, Nathaniel, I think I owe you an apology.’
I’m about to blurt that she owes Mom an apology, not me, but I stop myself.
‘I did receive your messages, but even before then, I knew your mom wasn’t well. Your dad had reached out to me a few years ago.’
My head dips. She’s known for years?
‘And I am sorry I didn’t reply. That was wrong of me.’ I wait for her to continue, but she stops, taking a sip of her coffee. It seems her apology has finished.
‘Right …’ I say. ‘So, are you going to come back and see Mom?’
She shakes her head. ‘I can’t do that.’
‘Why not?’ I demand. ‘It isn’t like you can’t afford it. Iknow you’re in a show right now, but when it finishes? It doesn’t have to be Christmas. It—’
‘Nate,’ she says softly, ‘I won’t be going to see her.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t want to.’
