I open the door and Mum’s standing there clutching a big stack of travel brochures with a huge grin on her face. She stops smiling immediately when she sees my tear-stained face.
‘Izzy, what’s wrong?’
‘It’s Aidan, we broke up.’
She pulls me into a hug before she shuts the door and leads me through to the sofa.
‘What happened? You were so happy.’
‘We were. He took me away for a romantic night away and it was so wonderful and then…’
Mum takes off her coat and scarf whilst raising an eyebrow.
‘And then?’
She leans forward and takes my hand.
‘It ended,’ I say, shrugging. I can’t relive it again. My mum will be so disappointed in me.
‘It was all my fault, Mum.’
‘I’m sure it seems worse than it is. I’m sure if you talked to him—’
‘I’ve tried but I can’t get hold of him. He’s not answering his phone and I keep going to his house but I don’t think he’s living there at the moment. His business partner won’t tell me where he is. I don’t know how else to get hold of him.’
‘Oh, love. I’m sure he’ll calm down. Everything seems better in time.’
‘Does it?’ I hope she’s right. I think back to the weekend with Aidan and the feeling of utter bliss and utter contentment I’d had. I can’t believe I’ll never have that again.
I point at the brochures.
‘Has Dad finally persuaded you to go away?’
‘Yes, but we don’t need to talk about that now.’
‘Why do you two keep trying to hide the fact that you want to go away? What am I missing?’
‘It’s about where we’re getting the money for the trip,’ she says, pulling at the sleeve of her jumper.
Suddenly it all falls into place.
‘You’re selling the house? Aren’t you?’
‘We don’t need to talk about it today.’
‘Mum, it’s OK.’
She takes a deep breath.
‘We had an agent round to value it last week and we’ve decided it makes sense for us to downsize. We’re thinking of getting somewhere small, close to town,’ she says. ‘Your dad’s been trying to persuade me to travel before it’s too late.’
‘You’re not that old.’
‘No, we’re not, but we’ve got to do the things whilst we’re still fit and have the energy to do it. I fancy New Zealand and your dad wants to do Peru and we always said we’d go to Mauritius.’
‘How long are you going for?’ I say, thinking that I’ve got so used to having them round the corner.
‘Don’t worry, we’re not going off indefinitely. We figured we’d go away a few weeks a year. That way we won’t get travel fatigue.’
I try not to show my relief. I don’t think I could have coped if they’d have gone away for a whole year.
‘That sounds great, I’m happy for you.’
‘You are?’ she says, looking me in the eye. ‘You’re not too sad about us selling the house? I’ve been so worried.’
‘Of course I am a little, but sometimes I find it hard to go and see you there. I can’t imagine what it’s like to actually live in it, with all the memories.’
‘I hadn’t thought about it until your dad started talking about selling and I started to realise that it had stopped feeling like home a long time ago,’ Mum admits.
I open a brochure of tours in South America.
‘I’m really glad you’re moving on.’
‘Yes, and I wish you would too. Have you thought about writing to Aidan?’
‘Writing? No, I haven’t. What happened with him… it’s complicated.’
‘Did you cheat on him?’
‘Not in the conventional sense, but in some ways.’
She stands up from the sofa. ‘I’m going to put the kettle on and you’re going to tell me all about it. OK?’
I feel like I’m a little girl again and I don’t dare disobey.
‘OK, Mum,’ I say, and when she comes back with the piping hot tea, I start to tell her all about it.
I come to the end of the story and there’s a pause. My mum’s facial expression is so neutral it’s like she’s advertising for Switzerland.
‘Well,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t expecting that. I knew that you were into the whole Instagram thing, but teaming up with Luke.’
‘I know,’ I say, wincing. ‘I don’t know how I let it get so out of control. I can’t blame it all on Ben dying. Everyone else is doing well. Becca’s getting serious with Gareth and you and Dad are selling the house and planning exciting adventures. It hasn’t made you all implode.’
Mum puts her empty teacup down on the table.
‘We’re all struggling still, you know that, right?’
‘I didn’t mean to imply that you’re not still grieving,’ I say, feeling awful that I’ve caused offence.
‘No, I meant the reason that we didn’t implode is that we had you to look after us. On a bad day you were the one I’d phone and I know Becca was the same, that’s why you moved in with her. Don’t you see, you’ve been supporting us through our grief but we haven’t been supporting you through yours. I don’t know how I didn’t see it, but you seemed so together.’
‘I wasn’t,’ I say, realising how much I’ve been bottling up. ‘I guess I just dealt with it in different ways.’
‘Like creating a fantasy online life.’
‘I sound like a nutter,’ I say, laughing.
‘I think you sound like a genius. I’ve wanted to escape so much from it over the last few years and you found a way to.’
‘It didn’t work very well, though, did it?’
‘I think it might have got a bit out of hand.’
‘A bit?’
‘I wish you’d told us how you were feeling and what was going on. I always called you when I was low and I wish you’d done the same.’
‘But it’s different with you, isn’t it? Everyone expects you to feel low. You’re the mother, you lost your son. Becca lost her fiancé.’
‘What is this, grief Top Trumps? I don’t get extra points because I gave birth to him. He was your brother, Izzy, you spent your entire childhood with him. Maybe you spent more time with him than I did when you were both growing up.’
Tears start rolling down my face.
‘You lost him too, Izzy, and perhaps we all need to be reminded of that.’
She leans over and hugs me again as I sob into her arms and I don’t let her go.
‘I’ve messed it all up,’ I splutter.
‘Nothing that can’t be fixed. Come on, Izzy. You’ll get through this. And if it doesn’t work out I’ve still got Roger Davenport’s phone number from that night at the ice hockey. I ran into his mum in the supermarket the other day and he’s still single.’
‘Mum,’ I groan.
‘Too soon to joke? Come on, you’ll figure it out like you always do.’
‘I don’t know if I’m strong enough,’ I whisper.
‘Then we’ll hold you up. You’re going to get through this.’
I can only hope that she’s right because I don’t think I can cope with a broken heart for much longer.