Memoirs of a Gigolo Volume Four by Livia Ellis

Author:Livia Ellis
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781481139397
Published: 2013-02-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

How I Find Out My Mother is Terminally Ill

My mother is dying. Now that I know this the one thousand subtle hints dropped in my lap make perfect sense. Uncle Harvey and Mrs. Gresham were trying to tell me not just to call my mother, but to give her the opportunity to tell me herself she was flying down the slippery slope to her own coffin. It was that or one of the two of them would have to tell me when she was hospitalized.

There is this wondrous thing about looming death. All sins of the past aren’t necessarily forgotten or forgiven, but they are put in their place. In one twenty minute conversation (just that long because that’s all she had the strength to endure before my Aunt Lucy got on the phone) I did as Mrs. Gresham told me to do earlier in the day. I grew up.

What is wrong with my mother? Heart failure. I don’t understand this as well as I wish I did. What I know is that she’s dying and I don’t even have an internet connection so I can Google heart failure. My father knew this. This very possibly had something to do with the paternal push to make amends with me before he stepped in front of a bus. He knew my mother was dying. His father had just died. This was why he kept on talking about us being in it together. I get this now. Hindsight is annoyingly illuminating.

This is a moment in which I take stock of things I do know.

• I will do whatever I need to do to make certain my mother has the best care possible.

• Aunt Lucy is not a wealthy woman but she is a proud one and will not take my money directly so I need to work around this.

• My mother plans on staying with Aunt Lucy in Croydon.

o The negative being it’s Croydon.

o The positives being:

 Aunt Lucy lives near the hospital.

 Aunt Lucy is a nurse.

 It’s Croydon. From the house I’m about forty minutes away in the car.

Who would have ever thought I’d be happy to be near my mother?

As I sit at my grandfather’s desk with the Balmoral blue Queen’s Silver Jubilee telephone with the dial label embossed with acanthus leaves, crown and 1979 in silver, the separate bell set attached to the wall rings. I’m so startled by the sudden sound I pee myself a little. Very little. It’s not like I widdled in my trousers. But still.

Elon reaches around me and grabs the phone.

It’s Uncle Harvey. He’s heard from Aunt Lucy I’ve talked to mum. Am I okay?

That’s rather relative. Why didn’t he tell me?

Because Martina didn’t want anyone to tell me. She wanted to talk to me herself.

What the fuck was she doing in India for the past six months when she should have been home in a proper English hospital getting proper treatment? (I’m yelling and I don’t care. Uncle Harvey is a big man – he can take a

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