Page 82 of Love Is: Two Bodies One Soul

He paused, considering if he should stop this navel-gazing now. Close himself down again and leave Lexie in her glorious innocence was his preference.

As if she sensed his thoughts, she pushed for an answer.

He gave it: ‘My mother was insane. Mad as a hatter.’

‘Really?’ Pressing her hand against his chest, Lexie sat up and stared down at him through the shadows. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Absolutely. There was never a proper diagnosis. Dad, my soldier dad, used to say it was nerves, that she was highly strung as if that excused her, as if she were a musical instrument like a violin. But as I grew older, I became convinced she was the most selfish woman alive or simply stark raving mad.’

‘How? I mean, what sort of things did she do?’

‘Nothing normal.’

‘Like?’

‘Like, she’d spend a fortune on expensive clothes and perfume while we had nothing to eat in the cupboards, and she used none of the stuff she bought, because increasingly she never went out. Never went anywhere she could wear smart clothes.’

‘And ….’ Lexie prompted.

‘And she had no idea what a vacuum cleaner or a washing machine were used for and spent days on end prowling the house or locked in her bedroom, often talking to herself. Scribbling little notes which she left all over the place, none of which made the slightest sense. She kept the curtains drawn most of the time and never invited people in. Sent me out for shopping, got me to do the cleaning and look after my little sister.’

‘But you were only eight when your sister died.’

‘Younger, when mum delegated childcare to me,’ Owen growled. ‘I was doing it all by the time I was eight. “Owen, change the baby’s nappy” – “Owen, go to the shops” – “Owen, feed your sister”. What with – what fucking with?’

Lexie could hear the pent-up rage and hurt pouring out in Owen’s words. She was appalled he’d kept this misery inside him so long. Almost too frightened to ask, she said, ‘Didn’t your dad get her medical attention?’

‘He tried,’ Owen answered, quieter now, as if all his energy had been spent on the last outburst. He continued, ‘But she wouldn’t see anyone.’

‘What about when she was pregnant?’

‘I was a hospital birth, according to dad. But my sister was a home birth with a midwife. That was the last medical attention my mother ever had, as far as I know. After that if dad even suggested a doctor, she’d have screaming fits, and lock herself in the bathroom, threatening to slash her wrists. Or worse.’

‘Worse?’

’Smother my sister or me.’

‘He could have had her committed?’

‘No. He wouldn’t have done that. I told you. He was a kind man.’

‘Do you think Henry knew?’

‘I don’t know.’

Lexie settled back down alongside Owen. She rested her hand on his chest again, stroking the skin, winding her fingers in the dark curls of his chest hair, trying to soothe away some of the pain of his childhood memories.

‘Perhaps if you talk to Henry, he’ll answer your questions,’ she said.

‘I don’t have any.’

‘Don’t you? It seems to me, you’ve got loads. You’re in denial. Rejecting Henry as your genetic father and trying to forget a dreadful childhood, that’s all part of it. Trying to push aside memories of your mother by telling yourself you don’t want to know.’

‘I don’t want to know.’ Owen sat up, looming over Lexie. ‘I only want to get on with my life, and right now, I want to—’ He grabbed hold of her, holding her tight, his head dipping to her, their mouths meeting, lips grinding on lips, he kissed her ferociously. Shifting over her, one hand cupping her breast hard, the other slipping between her legs, he said, ‘I just want to have sex.’

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