Page 56 of The Woman Who Said Yes

‘What d’you mean?’ Dom asks. ‘What is there to understand?’

I shoot Sam a quick glance and turn back to Dom. ‘Why haven’t you told Eva all of this?’ I feel bolder now – not remotely scared of this ridiculous man with God knows how many personas. Besides, Sam is right next to me. What was I thinking, planning to come here without him?

Dom emits an exasperated sigh, as if the situation is too complex to explain to a couple of idiots like us. ‘It just wasn’t what I’d planned, that’s all.’

I frown, still not getting it. ‘But that doesn’t matter, does it?’ A rogue thought hits me: Dom is ashamed of his mum. Champagne-ordering, property portfolio-owning Dom doesn’t feel that Geraldine – with her cigarettes and burgundy-stained forehead – fits with his image of suave man about town. ‘I’m sure Eva wouldn’t blame you for the clay belt,’ I add.

‘No, of course not,’ he says a little huffily, as a factlet bobs up to my mind’s surface. It’s been happening this way since my oestrogen started to swirl away down the plughole. As it leaves my body – in great waves, it feels like sometimes – something will pop up suddenly: the name of the actor who Lily Allen wrote that angry album about. My decision to choose my tea towel drawer the ‘designated place’ for my earbuds.

‘But, Dom,’ I start, ‘aren’t you estranged from your mum? Eva said⁠—’

‘We’ve never had the easiest relationship,’ he says quickly.

‘And Eva hasn’t met her,’ Sam remarks as a statement of fact.

‘No, not yet,’ Dom says, as if there simply hasn’t been time.

Sam leans forwards towards him. ‘Does your mum know you’re getting married?’

‘Yes, of course! She’s delighted. I mean, she never thought it’d happen…’

‘But doesn’t she want to meet Eva?’ I ask. ‘I mean, isn’t she curious?’

‘Of course she is!’ he exclaims, causing the woman at the counter to glance over in the otherwise empty café. ‘And she will. I’ll set something up. The thing is,’ he adds, ‘Mum’s health hasn’t been all that great lately. So I’ve been tied up with taking care of her.’ Ahh, how noble!

‘While the building work’s been going on,’ Sam observes, and Dom nods.

‘That’s it. Killing two birds with one stone. Keeping out of the contractors’ way and being company for Mum. She’s on her own, you know. Dad passed away a couple of years ago…’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I murmur.

‘Thank you. Tough, isn’t it? How about your parents?’ His gaze flickers between us. I can sense Sam’s reluctance to divulge anything more than minimal information – the fact that his mum and dad are long passed – and briefly, I explain that I lost my own mum four years ago. As Dom expresses condolences, I realise he’s latched onto the topic in order to veer us down a different lane: the one signposted ‘our much-missed parents’. And as if from nowhere, a small, tight ball of anger starts to form, deep in the pit of my belly.

‘So, how long d’you think it’s going to go on for?’ I blurt out.

‘Sorry, what?’ Those blue eyes widen.

‘The building work. The renovation⁠—’

‘Ohhh, how long’s a piece of string!’ Dom laughs dryly. ‘You know what it’s like.’

I do, I think. I do know what it’s like. Not with builders, having never had any major work done on any place I’ve lived in – but with people who sit and spout a pile of unmitigated crap at me. The way Phil did, insisting that there was ‘nothing wrong,’ when he seemed out of sorts at home. That he was just ‘a bit wrung out from work.’ And the way Dom is now.

‘So, are you going to tell Eva all of this?’ I ask. ‘I really think you should…’

‘Of course,’ Dom says firmly. ‘I couldn’t agree more. But could I ask you something too?’ As if there’s some bargaining going on here.

‘What’s that?’ Sam stares at him.

‘Would you please not say anything to her?’ He pulls a pained expression. ‘I do think you’ve both been remarkably clever,’ he adds, ‘piecing all those bits together…’ One ‘bit’ he doesn’t know about is the fact that we’ve been to Boggis Road. I’m tempted to tell him – to convey the fury of those poor tenants, and to confirm that it’s his mother who owns the property, and not Dom. But now I just want to get out of here, away from him. ‘I’d rather explain everything properly myself,’ Dom adds with a hopeful smile, ‘if that’s okay with you.’

I fix him with a look. ‘About you living with your mum?’

‘Caring for her,’ he corrects me. ‘Look, I don’t want to throw more stuff onto Eva’s plate when she’s so busy right now. I need to pick the right time.’

Sam frowns at him. ‘You’ve got to tell her everything before the wedding, Dom.’

He nods gravely. ‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll do that.’ Like a child who’s stolen a tube of Fruit Pastilles and is being forced to take it back to the shop. ‘I am sorry,’ he reiterates. ‘I suppose there’s a fair amount of… well, shame involved in all of this, on my part. With the house not being finished in time…’