Chasing Daisy

father can make me feel this way. I hate him. I hate him.
    I stand up, scraping my own chair across the floor.
    ‘Daisy, sit down,’ my mother says. Her tone is harder than I’ve ever heard it and it makes me freeze on the spot.
    ‘I’m going to my room,’ I tell her, but without much conviction.
    ‘Finish your dinner.’ She picks up her knife and fork.
    But I suddenly feel angry and hot-headed and nothing she can say or do will keep me there. ‘No,’ I reply, and with that, I storm out of the room.
    I will NOT go and work for Martin! I could go back to England and stay with Holly . . . That idea is becoming more and more attractive. Or I could stay with Nonna. Keep her company. How dare he say she lives in a hovel? And why does she live in a house that’s crumbling down around her ears when he has all the money in the world?
    I halt in my tracks and spin around on the spot, storming back into the dining room. My mother is just standing up.
    ‘Why the hell does Nonna live like that in the mountains?’ I demand to know. ‘Water leaks through the walls when it rains, but she can’t afford to fix it! It’s disgusting! You’re her daughter! How COULD you?’
    My mother stares at me calmly, then sits back down in her chair.
    ‘Answer me!’ I screech.
    She answers in Italian. I’m surprised – my mother never speaks to me in Italian – but this time she does, and I have to concentrate hard so it doesn’t throw me off guard.
    ‘She wouldn’t take any money,’ my mother tells me.
    I falter before speaking, also in Italian. ‘She wouldn’t take money from me, either, but you’re her daughter! She must know you’re rolling in it!’
    ‘It’s not my money, though, Daisy.’
    ‘It bloody well is. I mean, I know he might be the one who goes out to work, but you’ve stayed by his side. You earned it, too!’
    ‘Yes, but my mother doesn’t see it like that.’
    ‘Even so, who cares? Why won’t she let you help her? Or is it my father? Will he not let you help her?’ I’m starting to see red. ‘Is that it?’ Fury bubbles up inside me, but my mother puts a stop to it.
    ‘That’s not it,’ she says calmly, holding her hand up. ‘She doesn’t want anything to do with your father – my husband. She’d rather live in squalor than accept his help.’
    ‘But that’s crazy. It may be only a matter of time before the walls collapse on her!’
    My mother looks startled. ‘I didn’t know it was as bad as that.’
    ‘Well, you should know! Why don’t you know? Why the hell don’t you ever go and see her?’ I don’t know why I’ve never thought to ask any of these questions before. ‘Did you even go to Nonno’s funeral?’
    ‘Of course I went to his funeral!’ she snaps.
    ‘Did you? When? I don’t remember that.’
    ‘You were on holiday in the Hamptons with your friends.’
    ‘But I didn’t know you’d gone! Why didn’t you ask me to come with you? You must have known I would!’
    ‘Yes, I. . .’
    ‘What? Why? ’
    She looks shifty. The words come out with difficulty. ‘I . . . needed to go. . . alone. . .’
    ‘But why? I don’t understand!’
    She sighs. ‘Oh, Daisy. . .’
    I look at her in confusion. I’ve never seen her like this before, so composed and reasonable.
    ‘Tell me!’ I raise my voice.
    She looks at me and her eyes are filled with pain. Then she looks away again and her answer is firm. ‘I just wanted to spend some time with my mother and be there for her without worrying about you. Okay?’
    I shake my head. ‘No. That’s not it. There’s something else. What is it you’re not telling me?’
    ‘That’s enough, now.’ She stands up and walks out of the dining room.
    ‘No, it’s not!’ I follow her into the kitchen. ‘Tell me what’s going on?’ Candida is at the sink. She gives us a wary glance before quickly exiting the room. She’s probably startled to hear us speaking in another language. In fact, she probably had no idea about our Italian heritage at all.
    My mother turns her back on me and faces the far wall.
    ‘Hey!’ I shout. I go to her and spin her around. There are tears in her eyes and. . . something else. . . Fear?
    ‘What is it? You have to tell me. You can’t not .’
    ‘Okay,’ she says.
    ‘Okay?’ I step back in surprise.
    ‘Okay. Let’s go for a walk.’
    ‘A walk? Alone?’
    ‘Yes, alone.’
    ‘At this time?’ It’s after nine o’clock at night. ‘Without a minder?’
    ‘Yes.’
    I’m taken aback