One Perfect Summer

‘You’ve never been in the slightest bit interested in any of my studies!’
    ‘Oh, and you’ve been interested in mine?’
    I ignore that comment and continue with my rant. ‘Or my work!’
    ‘Work?’
    ‘Punting!’
    ‘You call that work? You wouldn’t know what work is.’
    ‘Oh, and you would? Poor little rich boy!’
    He slams on the brakes.
    ‘Good! I wanted to get out, anyway!’ I reach for the door handle, but he grabs my elbow and roughly pulls me back.
    ‘That hurt!’ I scream, hitting him on his arm.
    ‘STOP!’ he shouts, grabbing my wrist.
    ‘WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?’ I’m feeling a bit hysterical now.
    ‘MY MOTHER IS HERE!’ he shouts back.
    That stuns me into silence. He lets go of me. Suddenly he looks crushed.
    ‘What’s your mother doing here?’ I ask.
    ‘She wants to meet you,’ he replies, white as a sheet. ‘You’ll need to get changed.’

 
    Frau Heuber – that sounds scarily austere – is currently in a limousine on her way to Burrell’s Field. I get changed quickly into my smartest skirt and a white blouse, while Lukas waits outside in his Porsche. I haven’t even asked him where he got the car from – I thought he gave it up after Klaus left.
    His mother called Lukas en route to let him know she was on her way. I have no idea why she thought it was a matter of such urgency that she couldn’t give us more than an hour’s notice, but perhaps she wants to catch us out. Perhaps we should be grateful that she decided to call at all.
    We go back to Lukas’s room and wait apprehensively. I sit on the bed and fidget, before thinking it might look better if I relocate to a chair – I don’t want to appear too comfortable. Eventually Lukas can stand the suspense no longer so we both go downstairs to keep an eye out for her. She arrives ten minutes later in an enormous, shiny black limo. The driver – wearing a navy suit and a proper chauffeur’s hat – gets out to open the door for her. I don’t know what I expected. A grand woman in a fox’s fur, or something similar, flouncing out and pretending that I don’t exist . . . I wasn’t expecting this.
    Lukas’s mother is short and, for want of another word, fat. She’s wearing a large brown and pink floral dress and she looks like she should be in a kitchen baking apple pies and other yummy, heart-warming things to eat. I can’t for the life of me work out why he seemed frightened of her – until she looks at me.
    Ice. That’s the word I would use to describe her eyes. Cold, blue ice, and now my stomach feels full of the stuff.
    Lukas steps forward to greet her and kisses her hand. Not her cheek. Her hand. I can’t imagine what she’d do if I gave her a hug – probably keel over. Now, there’s a thought . . .
    ‘Mother, this is Alice,’ he says in English, turning to look at me. I’ve never seen him so nervous.
    ‘Hello,’ I say, my smile wavering. She doesn’t offer me her hand, which is a relief, because I’m not sure if she’d expect me to kiss it too.
    She redirects her gaze to Lukas without responding, and says something in German.
    ‘Not yet,’ he replies with an awkward smile in my direction. ‘I believe she starts her course next week.’
    I think she’s asking if I can speak German. I haven’t decided for sure, but I’ve been thinking of switching from Mandarin to German. Lukas’s comment at the ball got to me.
    A lot of tutting commences when we go inside. From what I can gather, she doesn’t approve of Lukas’s room.
    Lukas asks her a question with an uncomfortable glance at me, and after that she converses in perfect English.
    ‘I was telling my son that his room is too small,’ she says with a look of disgust on her features. ‘How can you bear to stay here?’ Her question appears to be directed at me.
    ‘Well,’ I glance at Lukas self-consciously. ‘I live in a house with two friends.’
    ‘You must think I’m naive,’ she snorts.
    ‘What? No!’ I exclaim. ‘I mean, I do stay here, just not very often.’
    ‘Humph.’ She turns away from me.
    God, this is awful! First Joe and now Lukas! Why can’t I be like Lizzy and have a nice potential mother-in-law? She recently joked that Callum’s mum is her second-best friend. After me, I hope.
    Lukas gently intervenes. ‘Perhaps we should go out?’
    ‘You can accompany me to my hotel.’
    It doesn’t sound like it’s up for discussion.
    She’s staying at a super-swish hotel in Cambridge. Her