‘For goodness’ sake, Phoebe, do you have to be glued to your phone? Gran will be here soon and then I’ll be leaving. I’m not sure why you insisted on coming if you were just going to be on your phone the whole time.’
Around them on the airport concourse, taxis fought for prime drop-off positions as the humid July heat seeped into Lily’s skin. It was early still but she could feel tiny beads of sweat gathering in the pores above her lips.
‘Jesus, you can talk. You’re never off your phone. I already told you, I want to see Gran off. This is quite a big deal for her, in case you hadn’t realised. And I’m meeting Mia so we can head back into town and go to the film festival together.’
Lily locked her jaw to stop herself replying. She knew Phoebe was baiting her. Ever since the truth had emerged about her daughter’s friendship with Mia, it was as if Phoebe couldn’t stop mentioning her cousin, pointing out that she had a relationship with her extended family even if Lily didn’t.
‘Phoebe, can’t we wait inside? It’s so muggy out here. I honestly don’t understand why you’ve got such a hatred of air conditioning, especially on days like this.’ There was a note of unintended impatience in Lily’s voice. She didn’t know why she felt so irritable. Perhaps it wasn’t irritability so much as anxiety, or excitement even. It wasn’t every day that you got on a plane to New York where your husband had been living for more than four months to pay him a surprise visit.
She’d told Daniel nothing about the trip, nothing about her mum arranging it all without her knowledge or the mock truce between her and Jess that felt like nothing more than a box-ticking exercise. Daniel would assume she was spending the weekend at home, seeing friends or catching up on work. But Lily had it all figured out. After dropping her bags at the hotel she’d head straight for his apartment. Even allowing for delays here and there, she should be at his front door by lunchtime. They’d have the rest of the day alone together.
‘The thing is, there’s something I want to talk to you about. Are you even listening?’
Lily had been miles away but she nodded anyway.
‘There’s something I need to tell you. And if you don’t like it, that’s your problem, there’s nothing I can do about it. But you need to hear me out before you start going mental, OK?’
Lily felt the colour drain from her cheeks. ‘What is it? What do you need to tell me?’ Her voice had emerged a couple of tones higher than usual.
‘OK, so here’s the thing. I’ve been seeing someone for a while now. Just over a year, in fact. Sam. Their name’s Sam. What I mean to say is … her name is Sam. She’s a girl. The person I’m seeing is a girl. The thing I’m trying to tell you is that I’m gay.’
Stories began rewriting themselves in Lily’s head, scenes from Phoebe’s adolescence slotting into place like in a game of Tetris.
‘Are you going to say something or are you just going to stand there, staring at me?’
Lily understood that she had to speak, that she needed to find the right words and deliver them in the right order, and scrabbled frantically for an appropriate response. ‘You’re sure?’
The moment she asked the question, Lily knew it was the wrong one. She prepared herself to apologise, to blame her crass response on the unexpectedness of it all, but Phoebe was already talking.
‘Yes, I’m sure. Do you really think I’d be telling you if I wasn’t? What do you think this is? Some kind of passing fad I’ll recover from with the right vitamins? For God’s sake, I’ve just told you I’m gay and all you can do is ask me if I’m sure.’
‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. That came out all wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.’ If in doubt, apologise. It was the only useful lesson Lily had taught herself since Phoebe had hit adolescence.
‘So what did you mean?’
Lily needed time to think, to rehearse the words before she released them into the world, but Phoebe was glaring at her. ‘I just meant … I just want you to have a happy life, that’s all.’
‘Happy? What’s that supposed to mean? Can’t gay people be happy? What is this – the nineteenth bloody century?’
‘I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t. Don’t put words in my mouth.’
‘So what did you mean? What “happy life” are you talking about?’
Lily paused. Sometimes in conversations with Phoebe she could feel her daughter pulling her towards a flaming pyre of disagreement and however hard she tried to rein them both back to safety, Phoebe’s grasp was always stronger. ‘You know what I mean. You’re being deliberately obtuse.’
‘No, I’m not. It’s not like I’m choosing to be gay as some kind of lifestyle statement. What exactly do you mean by being “happy” anyway? Do you mean happy like our family?’
‘There’s no need to take that tone, Phoebe. But yes, if you want to put it like that.’
Phoebe began to laugh, not the kind of laughter that invited participation but the kind that made it clear Lily had said something incredibly stupid.
‘What’s funny?’
‘If you think our family’s happy then I’d hate to see your definition of unhappy. Dad lives three and a half thousand miles away and we haven’t seen him in over four months. Your sister can’t bear to be in the same room as you and wouldn’t even let me meet my cousin for seventeen years because she hates you so much. And now you’re heading off on this transatlantic trip with Gran based on a half-baked fantasy that you’re all going to come home gloriously reunited. And you call that happy?’
Phoebe laughed again – high-pitched, grating – and Lily felt as though she’d been deposited on top of a mountain at an unfeasibly high altitude. ‘Phoebe, I know you’re upset, but that’s no excuse to speak to me like that. I’m sorry I didn’t realise about you being gay, but you must know I wouldn’t have a problem with it. You must know that. I’m sorry I didn’t guess without you having to tell me. You’re my daughter and I probably should have intuited it but I didn’t, I had no idea, and I’m sorry.’
‘Of course you had no idea. How can you have any idea about anything when you’re never around?’
‘That’s not fair. I’m not never around. You’re the one who’s barely at home these days, and that’s fine – you’re a teenager, I expect you to be out and about with your friends. But please don’t attack me for it.’
‘So it’s all my fault you work every waking hour? It’s because I’m never home? So what’s your excuse for never being at home when I was little? What’s the reason you missed practically every sports day, every nativity play, every school concert? What’s the reason you turned up late to every parents’ evening, as though somehow you were more special than everyone else and all the teachers should have to wait for your arrival, like you were the Queen of bloody Sheba? Do you know something? When I was little I thought I must have done something really naughty because you were never at home. Because it was the nanny who took me to school, who collected me afterwards, who listened to stories about what I’d been doing all day. Because she was the one who spent every afternoon painting pictures with me and acting out The Lion King or Sleeping Beauty, who cooked my dinner and sat next to me while I ate it, who played games with me at bath time and read books before bed. I spent years thinking there must be something wrong with me because you weren’t one of the mums who ever picked up their child from school. So was that my fault too? Was that my fault for being so stupid when I was five years old?’
Phoebe glared at her and Lily felt something shift between them, something she wouldn’t have been able to articulate even if she’d dared to try.
‘I’m sorry you think I got it so wrong. I thought I was doing the best for everyone, for you and for me. I wanted to be a strong role model for you. I wanted you to know that you had choices, that anything was possible.’