Page 56 of Carbon

I found her in the garden room, drinking a glass of orange juice. She looked at me through dead eyes.

“May I join you?” I asked.

She shrugged, and I took that as a yes, leaning forward to pour a glass of juice for myself. Anything to delay the conversation.

“People keep talking about Beau,” I said.

“I wish I’d never laid eyes on that bastard.”

“How did he come to work here?”

“Stop blaming me! Everyone’s fucking blaming me.”

I’d never heard my mother curse like that before, and it shocked me into silence. I took a sip of juice, then spluttered as the vodka burned down my throat. Freaking heck, she was already on the sauce, and it wasn’t even lunchtime. And worse, she was drinking it from a bloody pitcher.

“Nobody’s blaming you. I’m just curious; that’s all.”

Her eyes wobbled as she tried to focus on me. “He came to the door one day, said he’d been down in the village and thought he’d stop by. I figured he’d seen the card in the supermarket window. Or the post office. Anyway, he spoke English, and he knew how to use tools. All those problems we’d been having with the flush on the downstairs toilet? He fixed them right then.”

“So you hired him straight away?”

“Look, we’d only had three other applicants. One spoke Polish, the second didn’t know which end of a screwdriver to hold, and the third didn’t show up for the interview.”

A yes, then. So, it did happen like Ben said. He’d just knocked on the door one day and been offered the job.

But what about the rest?

“Has Gregory said anything about me recently?”

Mother managed a half smile. “Mrs. Fitzgerald says he adores you.”

“I’m not sure what to do about that. I mean, I like him, but he doesn’t make me feel... I don’t know... He doesn’t make my heart race.”

Confusion crossed her face. “Why does that matter? For goodness’ sake, Augusta, do something right for once in your life and marry Gregory.”

Marriage? We’d only flipping kissed twice. “I’m not ready for that, not again. Not so soon.”

“It’s been seven years since you managed to kill Rupert. Get over it.”

I knew it was the vodka talking, but she nearly ended up wearing the whole bloody jug of it. “I didnotkill Rupert. What happened was an accident.”

She shrugged again. “So they say.”

How could my own mother say something so hurtful? On any other day, I’d have run from the room, but right now I couldn’t lose sight of my goal.

Half of the story Ben told me may have been true, but what about the most important part? Did he really come back for me before? I took a deep breath before I lit Mother’s fuse. “Mother, you know Rupert was always my second choice, anyway. I always liked Ben Durham better.”

“Who?”

“Ben Durham. We went to primary school together.”

“Oh, Ben with the glasses? That snot-nosed child was no good at all. His father was an insurance clerk for goodness’ sake, and his mother worked in a supermarket. Hardly worthy of the Fordham name.”

“I just wish you hadn’t sent him away when I was eighteen.”

My nails dug into the leather seat as I waited for her to answer. She’d never give me the truth if I asked outright, but if I pretended I already knew? Would the alcohol have loosened her tongue enough for her to bite?

“It was for your own good, darling. He turned up in a cheap little hatchback and a pair of jeans.”

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