Page 87 of The Mother-in-Law

‘What is it, darling?’ I ask him.

He closes his eyes, shakes his head. ‘Can we talk inside?’

We go into the den and Ollie declines my offer of tea or coffee. Instead he drops onto the sofa. I sit opposite him and he rests his head in my lap. I put a hand into the thick dark hair he didn’t get from me or Tom, and run my fingers through it like I used to when he was a little boy. Now he is a forty-eight-year-old little boy.

‘What is it?’ I repeat.

‘My business is going under. We’re not going to make our loan repayment,’ he says. ‘And the bank is calling in our debt.’

My hand freezes in his hair. ‘Oh no. Ollie . . . I had no idea.’

‘Honestly, neither did I. I’ve been working my guts out for this business for years, and I can’t seem to make any headway. I honestly don’t know where the money goes.’

‘Probably into Eamon’s pocket,’ I mutter. I’ve never thought of it before, but suddenly it seems like the obvious answer.

Ollie pauses, blinking into the middle distance. ‘No. Eamon wouldn’t—’

‘Wouldn’t what? Go to any length to line his pockets?’

Ollie shakes his head. ‘God, I don’t know. I haven’t even spoken to him properly in months.’

‘Have you tried?’

‘Of course I have. He says everything is fine and we can talk later.’

‘You need to insist.’

He laughs blackly. ‘Even if I did, Mum, there’s nothing to talk about now. It’s over. The business is worthless.’

He presses his fingers into his eye sockets. I’ve never seen him look more broken.

‘Not if you make your loan payment,’ I say, after a moment or two.

Ollie frowns. ‘But how would I do that?’

‘I might be able to come on board as a silent partner. At least, I might consider it if Eamon has nothing to do with it. As a matter of fact, I have an idea for your business. It would be a bit of a departure from what you’re doing now.’

‘What kind of . . . departure?’

When I tell Ollie my idea, he looks so surprised and impressed I have to try hard not to be offended.That’s right, I want to say.Your father wasn’t the only one with business ideas. He rests his chin in his hand, taking it all in, and he reminds me so much of Tom, I find it impossible to believe they weren’t biologically related. We live on, I realise. We live on through our children.

‘You know what?’ he says finally. ‘That is a business I could really throw myself into.’

58

LUCY

The present . . .

The phone is ringing in the background again. The damn thing won’t stop. But neither Ollie nor I look at it or even acknowledge it.

‘You asked Diana for money? For your business?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Ollie pinches the top of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. ‘You said it was a deal breaker.’