Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,99
looked around. She spotted the flight of stone steps that led to the room above where Sam stored the horses’ feed and headed for it at a fast trot.
She slipped on her shoes before running lightly up the steps. At the top she scanned the screen on her phone and gave a sigh of relief when she saw she had a signal.
‘Mum, what’s wrong?’ It was safe to assume that something was wrong—her mother had a talent for timing her crises to coincide with social occasions. A less generous person might have suspected she timed it deliberately!
Erin sat on the top step and listened with more resignation than concern—she’d been there too many times before to panic—as her tearful mother explained between sobs that her father had walked out.
‘I’ll be right th—’ She let out a startled yelp as the phone was pulled unceremoniously from her fingers. She lifted her head in time to see Francesco lift it to his ear.
‘No, Erin won’t be there. She has a previous engagement.’
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she yelled furiously.
‘Something you should have done a long time ago—cut the apron strings,’ he informed her callously.
Erin rose to her feet quivering with indignation. Though he was standing a couple of steps below her she still had to tilt her head to look him in the face. ‘How dare you? You had no right! She was in a terrible state; she needs me.’
‘No, she uses you,’ he contradicted.
‘You’re talking about my mother.’
‘And she’ll carry on using you,’ he said, ignoring her furious insertion, ‘until you break the cycle. It’s about habit and guilt. If you go every time your mother calls you’re simply reinforcing her behaviour.’
Her eyes flashing dangerously in response to his extraordinarily high-handed attitude, she glared up at him. ‘And if I let you run my life and decide who I talk to I’m simply reinforcing your inclination to be a total despot!’ she yelled back. ‘My mother needs me.’
‘So does your family.’
‘But she is my …’ Lower lip caught between her teeth, she shook her head as she caught his meaning.
‘The baby and I … we are your family now, Erin. What are you going to do when the baby is born? Drop everything including him when she calls?’ he suggested bitterly.
She felt as though she were being torn in two directions. At one level she knew he was right—he was after all only echoing thoughts she had had herself. But she resented him for making his point this way, for making no allowances for her feelings.
‘The situation is untenable, Erin,’ he said quietly.
Did he think she didn’t know that? ‘I feel responsible.’
‘Get over it,’ he recommended unsympathetically. He tossed the phone and she automatically caught it. ‘If you don’t like the situation you can change it—the choice is yours.’
Some choice, she thought, staring at the phone in her hand. ‘You’re asking me to choose between my mother and you.’ He shrugged. ‘It is not something you should have to think about.’
‘You have no right to ask me!’ she quivered, lifting a hand to her head. ‘You’re just as bad,’ she accused shrilly, ‘as she is! Get out of my way. I’ve had enough of this!’
‘That’s right,’ he jeered. ‘If things get difficult or even mildly uncomfortable, run away.’
‘“Mildly uncomfortable!”’ she yelled back. ‘Maybe this is a minor irritation to you—’
‘You’ve never been a minor anything!’ he retorted.
Her mistake, Erin decided when analysing the moment at a later date, was turning her head to look back at him as she ducked under his arm to reach the next step. If she hadn’t she would have been able to regain her balance when her heels snagged in the hem of her jeans and she wouldn’t have taken a dive down the shallow flight of stone stairs and ended in an inelegant heap on the floor on the cobbled yard below.
She lay there, winded, her eyes wide open. As she struggled to get her breath she was aware of Francesco falling to his knees beside her.
‘Are you all right?’ Without waiting for her to respond, he added furiously, ‘Dio! You little idiot! What the hell did you think you were doing!’ Before she had either the breath or the opportunity to respond Francesco launched into a low, incensed sounding tirade in Italian.
Erin only understood one word in three, but one sentiment she did pick out was a very heartfelt wish that he had never set eyes on her.