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I nod and shoo him away, hearing his hurried shuffle to the lifts so he can return to the party, tripping slightly on his own feet. I hope I’m right about Norah. If that all works out, I hope they name a kid after me, maybe a cat. I exhale loudly and look up at the clear night sky, stars fighting their way through the clouds. I take my phone out of my pocket to book an Uber and I notice a figure in the shadows, watching. They slowly reveal themselves to me and I watch my breath mist the air to see them.
‘Maggie,’ she says, not quite smiling.
‘Mrs San,’ I reply hesitantly. I don’t know if you were hiding in the bushes spying on us or you’ve come out here to kill me but it’s very likely you just heard my whole conversation with Frank. I don’t quite know what to say.
‘I told you to call me Regina,’ she scolds me.
‘Regina,’ I say.
She walks over in her thick wool coat and sits down on the bench, patting the space next to her. This is probably a moment for me to run but I do as I’m told.
‘Thank you for letting me come today. It was very nice to meet you,’ I tell her. I can’t quite gauge the sincerity of her actions. ‘I am really sorry about the dress thing. This was a complete and utter sartorial error, I do apologise. And walking down as a bridesmaid, that was awful. I am sorry.’
‘Well, you’re not in any of the photos so it’s fine,’ she tells me bluntly.
‘And I am not sure if Ashley told you what I said before but I am sorry for talking out of turn, at a wedding…about your son…It was crass…’
‘Possibly. But you were standing up for my son. My daughters are good girls but they can be bitches too,’ she tells me. I don’t tell this woman that I wonder where they learned that from.
There is suddenly a silence between us. Maybe this is it and I can go home. ‘You and Frank are not a couple, are you?’ she asks me.
My face freezes. I’m not sure what to say here but if she heard us then it doesn’t feel right to continue the lie any further, at least not straight to her face. I shake my head slowly. ‘I am sorry we lied to you.’
‘Oh, I spotted the lie from a mile off. Frank sang your praises a little too loudly.’
‘Was it all the languages?’ I ask.
‘I think it was the Olympic bronze medal in sailing that made me wonder…’ she says, and she laughs, which is not a sound that goes with her face but I laugh along with her.
‘I am glad Frank trusted you enough though to ask you to do this for him,’ she tells me.
‘He’s a good friend…’ I tell her.
‘…Of which he has few,’ she says, plainly. ‘I thought he would go to school and university and find people, but he’s always been quite alone. I worry about him in that way,’ she says. The emotion feels genuine but I can still feel shades of judgement in her tone.
‘Not alone really, he has his interests and work. He’s brilliant at what he does, a great colleague.’
She nods. ‘He enjoys his work, I know that much,’ she tells me and it makes my emotions prickle a touch to hear that, to know it’s something he’s proud of and spoken about with her.
‘You raised a good son, Regina,’ I say to try and turn the tables on her.
She looks at my face, the emotion making it drop. ‘Well, I tried. You know boys, they need the extra training though,’ she tells me.
‘I hear you did it mostly alone too,’ I add.
She eyeballs me, surprised at how much I know about her life. ‘It was hard. And I know I am hard on him sometimes. Iknow you see that too, but I don’t do it for any other reason than love,’ she tells me.
I look down at my hands as she says that. ‘I just wish you’d maybe say that to Frank sometimes though.’
She turns her head to me, wondering if I’m daring to lecture her. ‘He knows I love him,’ she says defiantly. ‘I am his mother.’
‘Then tell him. I don’t think anyone can hear that phrase too much, you know?’
She doesn’t reply. I don’t know if I’ve said the wrong thing, but I think her son is a good person and he likes what he likes in life, he tries so very hard, and he needs to be told that, despite his mother not really understanding him, she loves him all the same – that she’s proud of him.
‘Thank you for looking out for him, Maggie. I appreciate it,’ she says taking my hand and squeezing it and I will admit to being choked up that she’s recognising that I’m here for him, that she knows I care. ‘It is cold and I must be getting back to the proceedings,’ she tells me, getting up. ‘I hear you have a flight to catch,’ she says, smiling.
‘Oh yes, my Icelandic grandmother – she’s really old and I’d like to spend one last Christmas with her,’ I tell her giggling. ‘I should go and say goodbye to the bride and groom maybe?’
