Page 28 of Deep Blue Lies

TWENTY-SEVEN

I take a break. It feels so strange, reading Mum’s thoughts from when she was here. Invasive and unsettling. She doesn’t even sound like Mum, she’s so obviously immature. But then, I didn’t know her at that age…And am I so different? An image of Kevin comes into my mind: I’ve made my own mistakes.

Partly this is the problem though – the whole reason I’m here. I just know so little about this part of her life, even though in her case it’s where I came from . And doesn’t that change it? Doesn’t it give me a right to know… something, at least.

I feel a sense of something else now, just for a moment, and I guess it’s kind of shame.

Like what am I doing here, reading my mum’s intimate, private thoughts from years ago.

She’d hate it if she knew, I know that much about her.

But then, she had her chances to tell me.

She had the opportunity, but instead she drove me out here.

I catch the eye of the waiter and order another coffee.

He makes it with a heart shape in the froth, and sets it down carefully in front of me, then he tells me it’s a beautiful drink for a beautiful girl.

Maybe another time I might appreciate it – though probably not.

I’m careful not to do anything that might lead him on, and I turn my chair so it faces away from where he’s sitting .

I’m just about to go back to reading when I see Sophia’s moped go by on the road. But rather than drive past, she stops, gets off and walks into the cafe.

She goes right up to the bar without noticing me, and starts speaking with the waiter who just served me.

I don’t know what they say – it’s literally all Greek to me – but both of them seem angry about something.

A few moments later, he hands her a wrapped parcel of something, and she takes it and goes to walk out.

And then she can’t not see me, because of the route she takes.

“Hi!” I say, as she gets to my table.

I don’t know, maybe I overestimated how friendly she was the other day, or whether it meant something that she lent me her moped, because now she doesn’t smile. She seems irritated, like she just wants to get away.

“Oh. Hi,” she says. She stands there a second, holding the parcel, which I see is some pastry thing. She looks awkward. And suddenly, I don’t know what to say either.

“Thanks again, for the loan of your scooter,” I go on, because I didn’t get the chance to thank her properly the other day.

“Yeah. No problem.” She looks uncomfortable for another moment, then flashes an unconvincing smile. “I have to go.”

She turns and walks out at once. Then she gets on her moped, and drives off without looking back.

I don’t know why, but this unsettles me more. It’s not like we’re friends or anything, but she was definitely much more friendly the other day, and I just assumed…I don’t know, that she would be again? I guess I got that wrong.

I turn back to the battered diary in front of me on the table, and I know what I have to do. I pick it up. Back to hunting for clues about my identity. And this time it doesn’t take long. Because when it comes to sex, it turns out my mum didn’t mess around.