Liz Nugent - Lying in Wait

Laurence began to cry, and I took him in my arms and placed the tablet bottle in his pocket, but he aggressively shook me off and stood in the opposite corner of the room.

‘This is so screwed up. I can’t believe it.’

‘Everything I do is for you, darling.’

‘Please, just stop.’

I stopped then because everything I said seemed to make things worse. He threw open the window and inhaled deeply. Freezing December air stole into the room. The silence between us grew in length, and the atmosphere plummeted with the temperature. When he turned back to face me, his tears had dried and he pushed his thumb under his chin the way Andrew used to when he was going to make an announcement. He spoke without emotion.

‘For now, I will support you financially as far as I am able. Once a month, I will come for dinner.’

My heart lifted. It was something. I could work on him to make it once a week.

‘But there is one condition. I have a girlfriend. You must accept her, she will come with me. I’m only here now because she forced me to come.’

‘Oh, but, Laurence, can’t it be just us? You are my only relative. She would feel like an intruder.’

‘Mum, I will not be living here, and she will only feel like an intruder if you make her feel like one. And… there’s something I have to tell you about her.’

His forehead glistened with sweat, and I wondered what could possibly make him so nervous.

‘She is Annie Doyle’s sister. It’s Karen. Karen Doyle is my girlfriend.’

I was utterly stunned.

‘The prostitute’s sister?’

‘I think you should refer to Annie as the murder victim. Karen is not a thief or an addict or a prostitute. She is sweet and kind and generous, and really beautiful. If you gave her a chance, you would really like her. She is modelling at the moment, but she’s going to study art, and she is quite well travelled. You might even have seen her in magazines…’

He babbled on and his eyes shone as he spoke of her, but I tried not to listen because my head began to pound, although it didn’t stop me from hearing him say, ‘I love her, Mum.’

The treacherous bastard.

Somehow I kept it together and managed not to show signs of the electrical storm fizzing in my head. Laurence asked if he could bring the girl to dinner. I smiled and nodded.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Do you need more time to get used to the idea? Of course, she doesn’t know anything about what happened to Annie. We won’t even mention Annie. I think she might be uncomfortable if she knew… that you knew about her sister. Are you really sure it will be OK?’

‘I’m sure, darling.’

He looked at me with uncertainty. ‘I think I’m glad I know the truth now. About Dad and Annie. I think I can understand why he did what he did, but it really is unforgivable. And, Mum, I really think you need to get help, psychiatric help. Obviously, you can’t tell Malcolm about Annie, but you should see somebody, professionally. I think you have invested too much of your life in me, and you need to let go now.’

I agreed with everything he said, and smiled benignly at his suggestions while waves of red-hot anger surged backwards and forwards between my temples.

After Laurence left, I went upstairs and carefully applied the very last of Mummy’s scarlet lipstick.

Knowing the truth has finally given me some… I’m not quite sure what the word is. Relief? Not peace of mind, because that is a different thing altogether. I am deeply disturbed by my mother’s mental state and her role in Annie’s life and death. I can’t stop thinking of what my father did. I am sickened that I must keep this secret from Karen for the rest of my life, but Mum has agreed to see a psychiatrist and has finally accepted that I have moved out of home. I think telling the truth may have helped her. Despite everything, she is my mother. She did love and nurture me, and I am in some way obligated to her. I will not throw her to the wolves, and maybe these disclosures might bring her some peace and stability. She has no more secrets, nothing more to hide.

With hindsight and a little distance, I can see how obsessed she has been with me for my whole life, and I wonder when that love became deranged. I’m inclined to believe that it happened after Dad died, when she knew for sure that she would never have another child. Helen was right about Mum all along. But I feel sorry for her, for both of us, because I was never enough for her. I wonder would things have been different if she’d had another child, or if she simply always wanted a relationship as close as the one she must have shared with Diana.

My mother has been at least indirectly responsible for the deaths of two people, not including my father. Living with that knowledge is my albatross, but I cannot put her through a murder trial. It would most certainly kill her, and there has been enough death.

After Christmas, I am going to see a specialist about my weight. I have been drugged for two years. I suppose Mum thought she was helping me, and maybe I should be grateful, but I am angry with her for not telling me. She was so determined to control me. I am back to taking the tablets to get my weight down as soon as possible. Consequently, I am buzzing with energy again and rarely sleep. I’m only doing this for the short term, just until I can see a dietician. Karen is delighted that I am in better form, that I am out running every morning before work and that I cycle halfway to and from the office. She hasn’t ever mentioned my size, but it cannot be attractive and I don’t want to give her any further reason to question our relationship. Last Friday, in the pub, Dominic nudged her and pointed at me, saying ‘Beauty and the Beast, know what I mean?’

We are going to dinner together at Mum’s for the first time next week. I have rung Mum several times to make sure that she hasn’t changed her mind and that she will not be weird with Karen. I dared not tell Mum that Karen is married. One step at a time. But Mum’s mood is much improved too. She says that she is looking forward to the dinner and that she has been poring over recipe books to make sure that the meal is perfect. I’m trying not to let Karen know how nervous I am about this meeting. They will either get on or they won’t, but the truth is if Mum forces me to choose, I will choose Karen.

When Laurence told me that his mother had invited me for dinner, I knew that it was a big deal for him. And it was a big deal for me too. I was terrified of a woman I had never met, but Laurence seemed a lot better after that visit to his ma. I was so glad that I made him go. He started exercising again, dumped the junk food and suddenly he was more energetic, cleaning up the cottage and making proper plans for its renovation. He lifted out of his depression quickly, and I wondered if this was how it was going to be between us. If Laurence was prone to bouts of depression, I decided that I would be willing to stand by him. Nobody understood me like Laurence did. He had my best interests at heart. Laurence was supportive of whatever decisions I made. He was not jealous or small-minded. He made me a better version of myself. I wanted to make him happy. In bed on the morning of the dinner, I very tentatively asked Laurence if he thought it would be a good idea if I moved in with him. I stumbled over the words, knowing that, traditionally, it would be the man who asks this question, but I wanted to demonstrate my commitment to him.

He grinned at me.

‘Yes! Yes, of course. I was going to ask you, but I was afraid that I’d scared you off. That’s what I want too, to live with you officially. I’d marry you if divorce was legal –’ He stopped, shy suddenly. ‘I mean, if you said yes, obviously.’