Page 54 of Just for December

‘No, no,’ his mother insists. ‘I know you’re working, pet. It’s fine. We’ve been exploring and seeing the sights.’

‘Okay,’ he says, and there’s a pause. ‘I’m on set all day today, too,’ he tells her. ‘We’re taking over some directing duties, actually, so there’s loads that needs to be done.’

‘That’s nice, love. Congratulations.’

Duke isn’t sure she means it. There’s something hollow about the supposed compliment.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks her.

‘Yes, yes,’ she says. ‘I am. I’m just wondering …’

And there it is. Duke can feel the blow before she issues it.

‘I think we should probably go home. You’re busy, and I’ve said my piece …’

Duke doesn’t say anything. She wants to go home again? It’s been two days.

‘Right,’ Duke says, his heart thumping like he’s being kicked from the inside. ‘Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it.’

He’s met with silence.

‘Mum?’ he pushes. Suddenly, he realises that she’s crying. ‘Mum,’ he repeats, firmer this time.

‘I just thought this would be different,’ she says, her voice wobbling. ‘It’s my fault. I expected too much. Roger says he hates to see me like this, waiting by the phone for you.’

‘Oh, Roger doesn’t like that, does he? Well, I’m very sorry forRoger,’ Duke says, and it’s harsh, and he doesn’t censorhow mad he is that she’s said that, but also: she should count her lucky stars that he’s not gone full postal on her, because he easily could. Bloody ROGER? What’s he got to do with anything? Jesus!

‘He cares about me,’ his mother counters, and the way she says it fills the gaps between her words with something else. The spaces leave room for the other truth:and you don’t, Duke.

‘Well,’ Duke retorts. ‘It’s nice that he’s in your life.’ The space between his words suggests another truth:because I haven’t been, and that’s your fault.

‘You can’t keep blaming me, Derrick. I’ve said I’m sorry.’

Before he can think, he says back: ‘And you also said you didn’thaveany expectations, so it’s interesting that now you suddenly do, and I don’t meet them. This is so bloody typical, Mum. YOU chose the time to reach out, YOU set invisible expectations and denied they were even there. You’re not being fair.’ And then there it is: he cries too, exactly as he always does. ‘Urgh,’ he adds, upset with himself for letting her do this to him again. They both sob down the line. Eventually Duke says, ‘Look. I know you love me. But the way you love me, it isn’t enough. The love I deserve is bigger than the love you can give. And that’s going to have to be okay. And I love you too, but, Mum: it hurts me. So I think I just need to …’

‘What?’

He’s got two choices. He can hit the nuclear button, or he can give himself room to have more complex feelings.

‘I need time, Mum. Let’s spend some proper time together, when I’m not working, somewhere neutral.’

‘Hmm,’ comes her voice down the line.

‘Hmm?’ he repeats. ‘Come on. Give me something. You’re the parent, remember?’

‘Yes,’ she says, then, and Duke suspects that Roger is beside her listening to all of this unfold, coaching her through what to say. Does he mind that? He can’t decide. God, the box he’s stuffing everything into won’t be able to get the lid on soon enough. There’s a lot being left to figure out later.

‘Well, I love you, and I’m sorry if my coming here has felt like an attack out of the blue. That wasn’t my intention. I accept that you need time. The next move is yours to make. I won’t bother you again.’

‘You haven’tbotheredme, Mum …’

‘I do love you. I keep saying it, but that’s because I mean it.’

‘I know you do, Mum. We move to the next location tomorrow, so I imagine we’d be saying goodbye anyway. Do you want to come to set today? We’re close by, and we should hug, at least, before you fly. I won’t have long, but …’

He can hear himself doing it: extending an olive branch and then in the same breath issuing a rebuttal, taking it back, giving her a get-out clause.

‘We’ll come,’ she says, before he can rescind the invitation altogether. ‘Is there a time that’s best?’

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