Page 71 of A Cornish Love Story
She looked better than I had expected her to, in a red jumper that highlighted the pink tinge in her cheeks, her hair longer than it had been at Christmas, falling in light brown waves to her shoulders.
‘Georgie!’ It was a surprised bark. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Hi, Mum.’ She stared at me like I was a mirage of the Alperwick Mermaid instead of her daughter, so I clarified. ‘I’m back.’
‘For how long?’ She reached out for my box but, even though my arm muscles were aching, I held onto it. She stepped back to let me in, and I dumped the box and holdall on the floor under the coat rack. I stood up straight and massaged my spine, letting a groan escape.
‘Georgie, forhow long?’
Our eyes caught in the hall mirror. ‘My course wasn’t working out,’ I said, and watched as her shock morphed into something else. ‘You need me here, Mum, and I—’
‘I don’t. I have never asked you to give up university to look after me. Not once.’
‘You didn’t need to ask.’ I thought of all the times I’d skipped classes to go to her hospital appointments with her, or when she’d phoned the school office to check up on me because I hadn’t replied to her messages soon enough. She might not have said the words, but I knew she needed me.
‘So … what?’ She folded her arms, not taking her eyes off me as I hung up my jacket. ‘You’ve just quit everything? You’re not going back at all?’
‘I can reapply in a couple of years, or find a new course when things are more settled.’
‘What does that mean?’ Her laugh was incredulous. ‘My MS isn’t going away, but I’m managing it. I’mdoing all I can, and what made me happy, what made me feel content and, if I’m honest, relieved, was that you were in York, getting on with your life. We’ve talked about thissooften. I don’t want you to be my full-time carer.’
‘I’m not going to be. I’m going to get a job, and …’ I glanced towards the living room, where a soap opera was playing on the TV. ‘I just think it’s better if my life is here right now.’
‘I told you not to do this.’
I shrugged past her into the kitchen, taking a glass off the draining board and running the cold tap. ‘I know yousaid—’
‘I meant it, too. I don’t want you here.’
‘Thanks very much.’ I gulped down the water, felt relief as it cooled my overheated body.
‘You know what I mean.’ Mum perched on the edge of the table. ‘I know that, in the past, I’ve depended on you more than a mum should, and that I haven’t always been there for you when you’ve needed me.’
‘You’ve been there,’ I said quietly.
‘But I am fine,’ she went on. ‘I have a routine, and regular appointments. Helen helps out whenever I need it, and I have other friends I can rely on. The last thing I wanted was to clip your wings just as you’d started to spread them.’ There was a pause, and I used it to study my scuffed trainers. ‘Can you go back?’
I looked up. ‘What? I … no.’
‘You’ve cancelled your course, your accommodation – everything? Without talking to me first?’
‘It’s done, Mum.’
‘Jesus Christ, Georgie! This is yourfuture.’
‘Exactly. I have to do whatIthink is right.’
Mum glared at me, and I thought that would be it, that I’d be able to slink off to my room and unpack slowly, thinking about my next move. But she wasn’t finished. ‘This is about Ethan, isn’t it?’
‘No, I …’ I stalled. ‘No, Mum.’
‘Oh, love.’ All the anger seeped out of her, and she got up and wrapped me in a hug. I resisted for a moment, but then I let her, surprised by how reassuring it was. Her tight arms around me felt fierce and dependable. ‘You can’t give up your whole life because you’re sad about a boy.’
‘I’m not.’ I hugged her back. ‘Things just weren’t working out at uni, and there were … more reasons for me to be here right now.’
‘OK,’ she said calmly, and I braced myself, because that neutral tone was never a good sign. ‘We can talk about this some more once you’re settled.’
‘There’s no need, because—’
