“Rubbish!” I say at once. “A decent journalist wouldn’t completely ignore something like…”
Hmm. Actually… maybe they would. Now that I think about it, when I was a journalist I always ignored half the stuff the interviewees told me. I certainly never read any of the stupid heavy literature they gave me.
“Well… OK,” I say after a pause. “Maybe that wasn’t entirely your fault. But that’s not the main issue. That’s not why Luke’s so upset. A few days ago, he went looking for family photos in your apartment. But he didn’t find any. Instead, he found some letters from his dad. All about how you didn’t want him when he was a child. How you weren’t interested in meeting him, even for ten minutes.”
Elinor’s face flinches slightly but she says nothing.
“And that brought back a lot of other really painful stuff. Like when he came to see you in New York and sat outside your building and you refused to acknowledge him? Remember that, Elinor?”
I know I’m being harsh. But I don’t care.
“That was him,” she says at last.
“Of course it was him! Don’t pretend you didn’t know it was him. Elinor, why do you think he pushes himself so hard? Why do you think he came to New York in the first place? To impress you, of course! He’s been obsessed for years! No wonder he’s gone over the edge now. To be honest, given the childhood he had, I’m amazed he’s lasted this long without cracking!”
As I break off for breath, it occurs to me that maybe Luke wouldn’t want me discussing all his secret neuroses with his mother.
Oh well, too late now. Anyway, someone’s got to let Elinor have it.
“He had a happy childhood,” she says, staring rigidly out of the window. We’ve stopped at a crossing and I can see the reflection of people walking past the car in her sunglasses.
“But he loved you. He wanted you. His mother. But you just didn’t want to see him—”
“He’s angry with me.”
“Of course he’s angry! You leave him behind and go off to America, not even caring about him, as happy as a clam.”
“Happy.” Elinor turns her head. “Do you think I’m happy, Rebecca?”
I’m halted. With a very slight twinge of shame I realize it’s never occurred to me to think about whether Elinor is happy or not. I’ve only ever thought about what a cow she is.
“I… don’t know,” I say at last.
“I made my decision. I stuck to it. That doesn’t mean that I don’t regret it.”
She takes off her sunglasses and I try not to give away my shock at the way she looks. Her skin is stretched even more tightly than ever and there’s slight bruising around her eyes. Although she’s just had a face-lift, to my eye she looks older than she did before. And kind of more vulnerable.
“I did recognize Luke that day,” she says in a quiet voice.
“So why didn’t you go over to him?”
There’s silence in the car — and then, her lips barely moving, she says, “I was apprehensive.”
“Apprehensive?” I echo disbelievingly.
“Giving up a child is a tremendous step. Taking a child back into one’s life is… equally momentous. Particularly after such a long time. I wasn’t prepared for such a step. I wasn’t prepared for seeing him.”
“Didn’t you want to talk to him, though? Didn’t you want to… to get to know him?”
“Maybe. Maybe I did.”
I can see a slight quivering, just below her left eye. Is that an expression of emotion?
“Some people find it easy to embrace new experiences. Others shrink away. It may be difficult for you to understand that, Rebecca. I know you are an impulsive, warm person. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”
“Yeah, right,” I say sarcastically.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Elinor,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let’s not play games. You don’t like me. You never have.”
“What makes you think I don’t like you?”
She cannot be serious.
“Your doorpeople don’t let me into my own party… you try to make me sign a prenup… you’re never ever nice to me…”
“I regret the incident at the party. That was an error on the part of the party planners.” She frowns slightly. “But I have never understood your objection to a prenuptial contract. No one should get married without one.” She looks out of the window. “We’re here.”
The car stops and the driver comes round to open the passenger door. Elinor looks at me.
“I do like you, Rebecca. Very much.” She gets out of the car and her eye rests on my foot. “Your shoe is scuffed. It looks shoddy.”
“You see?” I say in exasperation. “You see what I mean?”
“What?” She gives me a blank stare.
Oh, I give up.
Elinor’s apartment is bright with shafts of morning sun, and completely silent. At first I think she must be wrong and Luke isn’t here — but as we enter the living room, I see him. He’s standing at the picture window, staring out with a deep frown.
“Luke, are you OK?” I say cautiously, and he wheels round in shock.
“Becky. What are you doing here?”
“I just… ran into your mother at Tiffany. Where have you been all morning?”
“Around and about,” says Luke. “Thinking.”
I glance at Elinor. She’s staring at Luke, her face unreadable.