Lola's Secret (13 page)

“Why?”

“Why?” Lola laughed. “Because I’m Jim’s mother.”

“I married Jim, Lola. Not you and Jim.”

“Buy one, get one free,” Lola said. When Geraldine didn’t smile, she stopped the joking herself. “And you’ve always resented that, haven’t you?” She waited for Geraldine to change the subject, to prevaricate. Instead, she was shocked by her reply.

“Always, Lola. Yes.”

Lola hesitated for just a second. “I see. And why is that?”

“Because I wanted my own life. With my own husband and my own children. I had enough of sharing when I was a child.”

Lola looked at her blankly.

“You don’t even remember, do you? I was one of eight, Lola. The seventh of eight children. And while some people love big families, I hated every minute of it. The noise, the clamor, how hard it was to make yourself heard, to get any time. And when I met Jim, I felt like I had found the most peaceful person on earth. He never shouted, he never grabbed at things. He would talk to me, not at me—”

“I did bring him up well.”

No smiling then, either. “He’s his own person, Lola. He always has been. Even if you haven’t wanted him to be.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Jim loves you. Adores you. Admires you. He knows how hard it was for you, raising him on his own after his father died, how hard you worked to put him through school. But when are you going to stop making him pay for your sacrifices? Let him live his own life? Work where he wants to work?”

“You are mistaken. Completely mistaken. Jim always wanted to go into business with me.”

“What choice did he have? What choice did I have? It was always a done deal. You were moving to this motel or that motel and you always made it clear that he had to come each time, too. Even after he and I got married, after the children came along, nothing changed.”

“He always wanted to come. He loved running the motels with me. You’re rewriting history. And don’t tell me that you didn’t need my help with the girls over the years. What were you going to do with them? Lock them in the linen room while you both worked all those hours?”

“Yes, we needed your help with the girls. And they loved you. And I know you loved them. All the attention you gave them—”

“It’s just as well someone did.”

Geraldine stiffened. “I’ve always been grateful for your help, Lola. But
I
am their mother.
I
am. Not you.”

“You’ve remembered, have you?”

“No!”

Lola almost took a step back she was so shocked at Geraldine’s raised voice.

“I won’t hear it, Lola. I won’t have you criticizing the way I’ve brought up my girls. Do you think I didn’t notice, year after year after year? See you mentally criticizing the way I was with them? I could only be the kind of mother that came naturally. I’m not you, Lola, full of games and adventures. But how dare you even think for a minute that I didn’t love them, that I didn’t want the best for them.”

“Geraldine—”

“No, listen to me for once. What chance did I have against you? You did your best to take them from me, didn’t you? Did all you could to make them love you more than they love me. And perhaps you succeeded, with Bett at least. Are you happy now? One out of three? But I love my Bett, Lola. And I love Carrie, for all her faults too. And I loved Anna. I loved my Anna, my baby, my first girl, more than you will ever know. And I will never tell you how much because it’s my story, do you hear me? My memories, my history, with my daughter. And that’s why we’re leaving. Because the longer I stay here, with you—yes, Lola, with you—the more I feel you taking over Anna’s memory. We talk about her when you want to talk about her. Ellen emails you more than she ever contacts me. Because you’re more fun. You’re Really-Great-Gran. I’m just boring Geraldine. But if I’m away from you, Lola, then perhaps, just perhaps, you will allow me to find the space to have my relationships with my own children and grandchildren before it’s too late. As it was almost too late with Anna.”

Lola couldn’t speak. Geraldine’s accusations were too plentiful, too hurtful. She’d never had a conversation like this with her before. She could think of nothing more to say.

Geraldine didn’t seem to care. “So there it is,” she said, picking up the sponge again. “That’s why we’re leaving, Lola. And that’s why we haven’t invited you to come with us.”

L
OLA STAYED
in her room for the next two days. She told Jim she wasn’t well, and told Bett and Carrie the same thing when they rang. It was the truth. She felt sick inside. Hurt and hollow and sick.

Luke rang. Patricia, Margaret, and Kay rang. They wanted to share funny stories about the latest reactions to the window display, update her on their online adventures. Lola spoke only briefly, putting on a hoarse voice and apologizing, saying she’d look forward to hearing all about it when she was better.

Emily dropped up to the motel with two more of her drink samples. When Jim phoned through to say she was there at the reception desk, Lola asked him to please apologize but she wasn’t feeling well enough to talk to anyone yet. Emily left the drinks and a note:

We’re missing you. I hope you get well soon. Emily xx

PS The blue one is blueberries and rosewater, the red one is pure strawberry. Full of color and vitamins, especially for you. I’m calling whichever one you like best The Lola.

Jim brought her breakfast on a tray each morning, a sandwich at lunchtime, and a salad each evening. She ate only a little of each, more for his sake than her own. She wasn’t hungry. She was in shock. It was the only word to describe how she felt.

There had been anger at first, in the aftermath of her—her what?—with Geraldine. Her fight? Argument? Truth session? Anger, and astonishment. But after that first rush of reaction, more painful feelings had slowly crept up on her. Was Geraldine telling the truth? Had Lola tried to take over? Had she enjoyed knowing the girls preferred being with her? That they saw her as the fun one, the adventurous one?

Yes. Yes to all of those hard questions.

But only ever for the right reasons. Everything she had done had been for the girls. That was also the truth.

Wasn’t it?

No, she thought again now, sitting in her room, the net curtains pulled across so she could see out but no one could see in. It wasn’t the truth. It had been an unspoken competition between her and Geraldine from the moment Jim introduced her as his girlfriend. She’d wanted her son to have a lively, bright girlfriend and possible wife, one she could get on with, one she could be friends with, the daughter she’d never had. Instead, he had fallen in love with Geraldine. Quiet. Standoffish. Apparently without any personality whatsoever. Once, just the once, she had asked Jim what he saw in Geraldine.

“She’s so peaceful.”

“Peaceful?” Lola remembered laughing. “How boring, darling!”

Had Jim said any more about Geraldine after that? Had he told Geraldine that her future mother-in-law had described her as “boring?” Regardless of what she had said, Jim had married Geraldine. And so their lives together had begun, the three of them moving and working together in motel after motel, soon followed by the arrival in quick succession of Anna, Bett, and Carrie.

Lola could remember every one of their birthdays so clearly. The excitement, the happiness—one girl, two girls, a third girl! Her amusement at Jim’s—yes, it was definitely Jim’s, not Geraldine’s—decision to name them alphabetically. It had been obvious very quickly that Geraldine found motherhood exhausting. No wonder. It
was
exhausting. Lola had had just the one and she’d been constantly tired for five years. Let me mind them, she’d say. Let me put them to bed. Give them their lunch. Their baths. You do the motel, I’ll do the girls. Day by day, she’d taken on more of the caring role.

Deliberately? To deliberately displace Geraldine? To make herself indispensable, as she had been accused? Had she come up with fun activities, adventures, games, even the idea of the singing Alphabet Sisters as a ploy to make the girls love her more than they loved their mother, because she had never fully approved of their mother? Because she had always been disappointed in Jim’s choice of wife?

Yes? No?

Yes.

But Jim and Geraldine had needed her, too. If she hadn’t been there to act not just as unofficial nanny to the three girls, but as entertainer, as adjudicator, advisor, all the different roles she’d taken on with joy and with gusto, how could they have managed to keep working?

Or hadn’t she given them the chance to find out?

Back and forth her thoughts went, anger at Geraldine’s accusations, followed each time by an ever-strengthening voice hinting that there was truth in what she had said.

Lola stood up, walked over to her wardrobe, and opened it. She’d culled her clothes to just a few outfits. If she ever felt the need for a change, she simply added a scarf or a wrap or some jewelry purchased from the charity shop. It was like having her own large dress-up box.

How long would it take her to pack now? To email her Christmas guests and say she was sorry, but the situation had changed and the Valley View Motel was no longer able to offer its Christmas special. She could do it all in an hour. Be on the bus to Adelaide that afternoon. And go where after that?

The phone rang beside her bed. She didn’t answer it. She needed to hear only her own voice at the moment. Listen to her own thoughts. Try to make sense of this sudden, shocking turn of events.

She decided to talk to Anna. She’d started doing it in the past year, treating her eldest granddaughter as a kind of seer.

She spoke out loud. “Well, Anna, what do you think?”

It took a little while to be able to imagine Anna’s replies. Then it was as if she were there in the room too.

You never did like Mum much, did you? And now I guess you like her even less?

“No, I didn’t, and you’re right, I certainly don’t like her any more now.” A pause. “But I do respect her.”

For insulting you? For pulling the rug from under your feet? For waiting all these years to tell you to keep away from her daughters?

“She didn’t exactly put it like that. But it’s good to see she does have some backbone. I just wish she’d shown it to, I don’t know, Len the butcher rather than me.”

So what are you going to do? Stay in here sulking?

Lola smiled. Her imaginary Anna was asking exactly the kinds of questions Lola herself had asked her granddaughters many times in the past. “Yes.”

That’s a bit cowardly, isn’t it? And selfish, worrying Dad like this? And Bett and Carrie? Not to mention all your friends in town.

“They’ll survive.”

Of course they will. But they’ll also keep worrying about you.

“I’m an old lady, Anna. Old ladies get sick.”

Except you’re not sick. You’re sulking.

“I’m not sulking. I’m thinking.”

Get over it. Stop having a pity party.

“How dare you!”

Sound familiar?

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Really, Lola, where’s the surprise in all of this? You’ve never liked Mum and Mum has never liked you. The only difference is she’s come out into the open and said it. You already know that she and Dad are going to leave the motel. Now, seriously, do you want to go with them? Start all over again in a B&B in the Riverland, or a small guesthouse in the Adelaide Hills, or wherever it might be they end up next?

“You were eavesdropping on that conversation?”

I don’t miss anything that goes on in this family. So, would you like to spend your last months or hopefully years with them, getting to know a whole new town, new people? Or would you rather stay here in Clare, with Bett nearby, Carrie nearby, the charity shop there as your social club, not to mention the computer setup out the back?

“You know about that too?”

I know everything, I told you. Let’s be realistic here. You’re eighty-four years old. You’re in reasonable health, marbles still mostly intact, but you’re not going to get any fitter or any younger. Now’s the time to make a few decisions about your future.

“Perhaps they could sell the motel with me in situ. As a kind of added extra.”

That would look good on the website. “Valley View Motel, with swimming pool, function room, and ancient Irishwoman.” You don’t have that truth stick handy, do you?

Lola hadn’t used the truth stick in years. It was a gimmick from the girls’ childhood, a way of getting to the heart of any fight in seconds. She’d only ever had to point it at Anna, Bett, or Carrie, say, “Tell me the truth now, please,” and out it would pour, their honest thoughts about a situation, the real cause of their tears and disgruntlement.

“I don’t need it. I’ll tell you the truth anyway. Yes, I am sulking. Yes, I want to make Geraldine feel guilty. No, I don’t want to live with Jim and Geraldine in some twee little B&B in a new town. No, I don’t want to leave Clare. Yes, I will get in touch with the old folks’ home. Happy now?”

Deliriously. Can I go now?

“Not too far, please, but yes, you can go.”

Lola sat there quietly for a few more minutes. She wasn’t losing her mind. She knew she hadn’t just communicated with Anna from beyond the grave. But she did feel curiously comforted, as if she
had
just had an honest conversation with her eldest granddaughter. As if much needed truths had been aired.

Now what, though? Should she stage a miraculous recovery? Go and apologize to Geraldine?

For what? For being herself? For loving her granddaughters? No, she wasn’t going to apologise for that. She couldn’t turn back time either. But she would talk to her daughter-in-law. She would let her know that she respected her opinion, even if it felt like ash in her mouth when she said it.

The phone rang beside her. This time she answered it. It was Bett. In tears.

“I’ve made a mess of everything, Lola. I need to talk to you. I know you’re sick, but please, I won’t stay long.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“My life. My marriage. Lola, I’ve ruined everything. Please, can I come and see you?”

Lola hesitated for a second. “Shouldn’t you talk to your mother about this first?”

“I don’t want to talk to Mum. I want to talk to you.” She sobbed. “Please, Lola.”

She’d tried. “Of course, darling. Come now.”

The phone rang seconds after. “Lola?” Carrie’s voice was only just audible through the background noise. “Are you having visitors yet? Matthew’s being horrible and the kids won’t stop fighting. If I don’t get out of the house away from them all, I’m going to go mad.”

“Haven’t you got friends you can visit?”

“They’re all busy with their own horrible husbands and fighting kids.”

Lola tried again. “Why don’t you pop in and see your mother?”

“Why? You know she never has time during work hours. Please, Lola. Even for ten minutes? I’ve already told Matthew you need some more medicine dropped over.”

Lola asked Carrie to call by in an hour’s time. She’d make sure Bett was gone by then. Her sixth sense told her the time wasn’t right to have her two granddaughters under the same roof yet. It seemed Lola Quinlan: Grandmother was back open for business. She checked her watch. She had about ten minutes before Bett’s arrival. Not long, but long enough for what she needed to do.

She found her daughter-in-law alone in the kitchen. Good. She’d have said this in front of Jim if needs be, but she preferred it this way. “Hello, Geraldine.”

“Lola.” She looked up, warily. “You’re feeling better?”

“I wasn’t sick. I was sulking after what you said to me.”

Geraldine blinked but didn’t say anything.

Lola continued. “I didn’t like a single word of our conversation. And if I had my time over, nor would I change a single moment I spent with Anna, Bett, Carrie, or Jim. I still don’t completely understand what Jim sees in you and it’s clear you don’t like what the girls or Jim see in me. Am I right?”

Geraldine nodded.

“Good. But at least we now know where we both stand. And I admire your courage in telling me what you did. I’m glad you love your children so much. I do too. So we agree on that, at least. I also wanted to let you know what I’ll be letting Jim know later today. I’ve decided to stay here in Clare. I’m going to start making some enquiries regarding old folks’ homes and I’ll be ready to move out as soon as you need me to in the new year.”

“I see. Thanks, Lola.”

“You’re welcome, Geraldine.”

There was no hug, no smiles, no tears or reconciliation. But as Lola returned to her room, she knew it was the most important conversation she’d had with Geraldine in forty years.

B
ETT ARRIVED
minutes later. She was crying when she got out of the car, crying as she told Lola that Daniel had taken the day off and was home minding the children, crying as she explained that from January they were both going to work part-time and still crying when she told her that they’d done nothing but fight for the past two days and she was convinced the marriage was over.

Lola still didn’t understand. “But why are you so unhappy? Isn’t it what you want? Daniel to go part-time so you can go back part-time too? Share the childcare? Isn’t that the whole idea?”

More sobs.

“Darling, you have to stop crying. Or get someone to do subtitles. I can’t understand tears and words together.”

Bett smiled for the first time, even if only briefly. “I thought I wanted it. But Daniel hates the idea, I know. And he’s only doing it for me. And that’s not a good enough reason for him to do it.”

“He’s hardly going to do it to keep the postman happy, darling. Of course he’s doing it for you and for the twins. Why else would he do anything?”

“But I made him do it. I pushed him into it.”

“Now I’m completely confused. So you don’t want to go back to work?”

“I do. I think I do.”

“Well, that’s just as well because from what I think you just said in fluent crying, your editor wants you to start as soon as you can in the new year.”

“But I’m not ready. And it’s too soon for Daniel to go part-time. He’s only been in the new job five months, and I might have ruined everything for him too. See, Lola, I can’t do
anything
without wrecking
everything
.”

“Good heavens,” Lola said.