There was a brief silence.
‘Came back where?’ I said.
‘To Tuckahoe,’ said Laynie. ‘To our home.’
‘For how long?’ I said.
They looked at each other.
‘I mean how long will she be staying? Just so I can pack for her.’
Frank Junior was still holding his mother’s hand. ‘Miss Clark, we’ve lost a lot of time, Mom and I. And we both think it would be a fine thing if we could make the most of what we have. So we need to make … arrangements.’ The words held a hint of possession, as if he were already telling me of his greater claim over her.
I looked at Margot, who looked back at me, clear-eyed and serene. ‘That’s right,’ she said.
‘Hold on. You want to leave …’ I said, and, when nobody spoke, ‘… here? The apartment?’
Vincent’s expression was sympathetic. He turned to his father. ‘Why don’t we head out for now, Dad?’ he said. ‘Everyone has a lot to process. We certainly have a lot to work out. And I think Louisa and Grandma need to have a talk too.’
He touched my shoulder lightly as he left. It felt like an apology.
‘You know, I thought Frank’s wife was actually quite pleasant, though not a clue how to dress, poor thing. He had such awful girlfriends when he was younger, according to my mother. She wrote me letters for a while describing them. But a white cotton turtle-neck. Can you imagine the horror? A white turtle-neck.’
The memory of this travesty – or perhaps the speed at which Margot was talking – brought on a bout of coughing. I fetched a glass of water and waited until she recovered. They had left within minutes after Vincent had spoken up. I got the feeling it was done at his urging, and that neither of his parents really wanted to leave Margot.
I sat down on the chair. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘This must all seem very sudden to you. It was just the most extraordinary thing, Louisa dear. We talked and talked, and we may even have shed a tear or two. He’s just the same! It was like we’d never been apart. He’s the same – so serious and quiet but actually quite gentle, just as he was as a boy. And that wife of his is just the same – but then, out of the blue, they asked me to come and stay with them. I got the distinct feeling they had all discussed it before they came. And I said I would.’ She looked up at me. ‘Oh, come on, you and I know it won’t be for ever. There is a very nice place two miles from their home that I can move to when it all becomes too difficult.’
‘Difficult?’ I whispered.
‘Louisa, don’t get all sappy on me again, for heaven’s sake. When I can’t do things for myself. When I’m properly unwell. Honestly, I don’t imagine I’ll be with my son for more than a few months. I suspect that’s why they felt so comfortable asking me.’ She let out a dry chuckle.
‘But – but I don’t understand. You said you’d never leave this place. I mean, what about all your things? You can’t just go.’
She gave me a look. ‘That’s exactly what I can do.’ She took a breath, her bony old chest lifting painfully underneath the soft fabric. ‘I’m dying, Louisa. I’m an old woman and I’m not going to get an awful lot older, and my son, who I thought was lost to me, has been gracious enough to swallow his pain and his pride and reach out. Can you imagine? Can you imagine what it is to have someone do that for you?’
I thought of Frank Junior, his eyes on his mother, their chairs pressed together, his hand holding hers tightly.
‘Why on earth would I choose to stay in this place a moment longer if I have a chance to spend time with him? To wake up and see him over breakfast and chat about all the things I’ve missed and see his children … and Vincent … dear Vincent. Do you know he has a brother? I have two grandchildren. Two! Anyway. I got to say sorry to my son. Do you know how important that was? I got to say sorry. Oh, Louisa, you can hang on to your hurt out of some misplaced sense of pride, or you can just let go and relish whatever precious time you have.’
She placed her hands firmly on her knees. ‘So that’s what I plan to do.’
‘But you can’t. You can’t just go.’ I had started to cry. I’m not sure where it came from.
‘Oh, darling girl, I do hope you’re not going to fuss about it. Now, now. No tears, please. I have a favour to ask.’
I wiped my nose.
‘This is the difficult bit.’ She swallowed, with some effort. ‘They won’t take Dean Martin. They’re very apologetic but there are allergies or some such. And I was going to tell them not to be ridiculous and that he had to come with me but, to be honest, I’ve been rather anxious about what will happen to him, you know, after I’ve gone. He’s got years left, after all. Certainly a lot longer than I have.
‘So … I wondered whether you would take him for me. He seems to like you. Goodness knows why after how dreadfully you used to cart the poor creature around. The animal must be the very soul of forgiveness.’
I stared at her through my tears. ‘You want me to take Dean Martin?’
‘I do.’
I looked down at the little dog, who waited expectantly at her feet.
‘I’m asking you, as my friend, if … if you would consider it. For me.’
She was peering at me intently, her pale eyes scanning mine, her lips pursed. My face crumpled. I was glad for her, but I felt heartbroken at the thought of losing her. I didn’t want to be on my own again.
‘Yes.’
‘You will?’
‘Of course.’ And then I started to cry again.
Margot sagged with relief. ‘Oh, I knew you would. I knew it. And I know you’ll take care of him.’ She smiled, for once not scolding me for my tears, and leant forward, her fingers closing over my hand. ‘You’re that kind of person.’
They came two weeks later to take her away. I had thought it faintly indecent haste, but I supposed that none of us was sure quite how much time she had left.
Frank Junior had paid off the mountain of management charges – a situation that could be seen as only slightly less altruistic when you realized that this meant he could inherit the apartment rather than it being claimed by Mr Ovitz – but Margot chose to see it as an act of love and I had no reason not to do the same. He certainly seemed happy to have her with him again. The couple fussed over her, checking she was okay, that she had all her medication, that she wasn’t too tired or dizzy or feeling unwell or in need of water, until she flapped her hands and rolled her eyes in mock irritation. But she was going through the motions. She had barely stopped talking about him since she had told me.