Lana Barrington
We fly into Thailand in the afternoon heat. Thailand, let me tell you, is not just hot, it is like a giant sauna. The humidity is such that my clothes start sticking to me during the short walk from the plane to the air-conditioned airport. In the car, I realize that I am nervous, and as soon as we arrive at the Banyan Tree, I leave Blake to check in and go up to our suite, while I make my way up to Billie’s room.
‘Hey,’ she says, quite nicely brown and grinning.
At the sight of her relaxed, happy face, my tension fades. I was just being overdramatic and paranoid. Maybe it was being in the desert, where it did not feel like we were only a few hours away, but as if we had traveled back in time or to a different world.
Billie throws her arms around me. ‘Sorry I ruined your monumentally epic fucks, but am I fucking glad to see you.’
I grin. ‘So am I. So glad to see you. Look at you. You’re already as brown as a berry.’
‘Zero SPF always does the trick. Come on in,’ she invites, and closes the door.
‘Where is he?’
‘Having his beauty nap. Jerry has gone to one of the hotel’s gourmet cooking classes,’ she explains, as she takes me to his cot.
My heart swells. ‘It feels as if he has grown,’ I whisper, and, picking up his warm, fat body, hold him close to mine. I breathe in the familiar scent of him and his newly shampooed hair. I don’t know what I thought when Blake said his mother was in Thailand, but a cold hand had come into my body and clutched at my belly. I squeeze him harder against me. But now that he is in my arms again it is clear that my worries were unfounded.
‘I usually just prick him with a pin when I want to wake him up,’ Billie says.
I laugh, and the last remaining shadow of tension slips away. Sorab does not wake up and after a while I put him back into the cot.
Billie and I are chatting when Blake comes to the door. He greets Billie quickly and perfunctorily, his mind obviously preoccupied with other matters. He turns towards me—his mother wants us to meet her downstairs in the coffee lounge in an hour. Then he looks at Billie. ‘Brian will knock on your door in an hour. Will you bring Sorab down then?’ he asks with a frown.
‘Sure.’
‘Thanks, Billie,’ Blake says.
‘No problems.’
He takes my hand and turns to go, and then turns back. ‘You did well to stand up to my mother.’
Billie flushes deep red with the compliment.
I only have time for a quick shower and a change of clothes before it is time to go downstairs. Unsure how I should dress and not really mentally prepared to meet my mother-in-law, I nervously slip on a shift dress over my bikini. I am on holiday after all, and it would be silly to get all dressed up.
Blake leans in and tells me I look a million dollars, but I am unable to stop the feverish and horrid sensation that I have been summoned to the headmistress’s room.
As we enter the lounge I spot her instantly—blonde, blue-eyed, pale, and so carefully preserved she seems an ageless mannequin. There is not a single wrinkle on her face. Why, she could have been Blake’s sister!
She is dressed in a dusky pink jacket that reminds me of the tooth powder that used to sit in my grandmother’s bathroom cabinet. The most distinctive part of her appearance is the large piece of jewelry around her throat. It looks like the horned head of a bull. I have never seen anything like it. It is strange but beautiful, too. She does not rise as we approach.
As we near her Blake lets go of my hand, and goes around the low table to kiss her on both her cheeks. She lifts her chin and angles her head delicately to receive his kisses.
‘Hello, dear,’ she says quietly.
Blake straightens and regards her with an expression I cannot decipher. It is a mixture between exasperation and resignation.
‘Why are you here, mother?’
‘If Mohammed won’t go to the mountain,’ she murmurs.
Blake comes around and, putting his arm around my waist, says, ‘Lana, meet my mother, Helena.’
‘Hello, Lana.’ Her voice is cool and slightly aloof, but not unfriendly. Her tone says ‘approach, but come with caution’.
‘Hello, Mrs. Barrington,’ I say, overawed by her considerable presence.
‘Helena,’ she corrects with a nearly friendly smile.
‘Helena,’ I agree softly.
Blake gestures towards the sofa and I sink into it. He lowers himself beside me. She seems to be drinking still mineral water. A glass is half full with clear liquid and a bottle of it is on the table.
‘Will you have something to drink?’ she offers.
‘Feel like some coffee?’ Blake directs his question to me.
‘Something cold.’ My throat feels dry and scratchy.
A uniformed, smiling waiter stands beside Blake with a menu. Blake passes it to me and orders himself a short espresso.
I take the menu and feel Helena’s eyes on me. I don’t try to meet her eyes. Instead, I open the menu and bury myself in it. I look up at the waiter and order watermelon juice. The waiter moves away with a bow.
‘Well,’ Helena says.
‘Whoever heard of a mother who interrupts her son’s honeymoon?’
‘Whoever heard of a son who doesn’t invite his own mother to his wedding?’
‘We saved some cake for you.’ His voice is even, without provocation.
‘I don’t eat cake.’
Blake sighs. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t invite you, but I didn’t want any trouble.’
‘From what I heard, you had plenty anyway,’ she retorts.
‘Don’t start,’ Blake warns her.
‘Well, it’s the talk of the town. My best friends can’t wait to call me up and tell me the big gossip.’ She affects a hurt tone.
I bite my lip. Neither of them even seem aware of my presence. Really, Blake should have met her without me.
‘Is that what you came all the way here to discuss?’ Blake asks, the first sign of impatience edging his voice.
‘No, as a matter of fact I came to see my grandson.’
‘I can go get him,’ I volunteer quickly.
Blake looks like he is about to protest.
But Helena turns to me with a smile. ‘That’ll be wonderful. Thank you, Lana.’
Smiling broadly I start edging away from them and sidling out from behind the table. In my haste I hit my knee on the edge of the table, and just about stop myself from crying out.
‘Are you all right?’ Blake asks, concerned.
I bob my head brightly and escape. When I get to the entrance I can’t help it. I glance back quickly. Blake is watching me and his mother is watching him. I slip out quickly and meet Billie coming out of the lift. Brian is behind her. Brian nods unobtrusively at me and waits a few feet away.
Sorab squeals with unconcealed delight and excitement when he spots me. He holds his arms out and waves them impatiently at me. I take him from her and rain kisses on his face. He hugs my neck tightly and laughs.
‘You look pale. You must have met the mutton dressed in dragon, then,’ Billie says.
‘Disconcertingly posh, isn’t she?’ I whisper.
‘Yes, vomit-inducingly grand. What’s it like so far?’
‘Alien vs. Predator.’
She laughs. ‘Which one’s your husband?’
‘Who wins?’
‘Predator, I think.’
‘That’ll be him, then.’
‘Don’t let her bite you, duckie.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Right, then, I’m off to do some sunbathing by the pool. Come and see me when you are finished,’ she says and leaves, her flip-flops slapping the gleaming granite floor.
‘See you later,’ I call out after her, and, gazing adoringly at Sorab, drop more kisses on his face. He grins widely at me. ‘So you missed your mummy, then?’ I ask, and as if he has understood me, he grabs my neck and plants a very wet kiss on my lips.