Read Online Grail of the Summer Stars (Aetherial Tales) by Freda Warrington - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Freda Warrington
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fossils are talking to me.”
Stevie felt dread trickling through her. “Was Daniel that bad?”
“Oh, Stephanie, he was out of control. Every time I saw him he looked worse; exhausted, manic, talking nonsense. I was extremely concerned about his lifestyle, the company he was keeping. He brushed me off, told me to stop interfering.”
“What company? A girlfriend?”
“No, I mean the assorted low-lives who encouraged him because they think it’s clever and radical to be constantly stoned. He needed protecting from himself! I wanted him to see a doctor, but just the mention of it made him furious, and I couldn’t force him.”
“That’s terrible.” The understatement was all she could manage.
“The warning signs were always there. You know that.”
“But we didn’t take drugs at college. An occasional joint at a party, maybe, but neither of us was into it.” Stevie had to challenge Frances’s view of her son. “Are you certain he was ill? Or is it more that you didn’t approve of him?”
Frances sipped her tea and put down the cup. She looked haggard. “My disapproval is irrelevant. Things had gone far beyond that. He’d talk about the visions he was painting as if they were marvelous, when anyone could hear he was raving. He even tried to win me round by bringing home one of his supposedly wonderful new friends.” Her mouth turned down in distaste. “Wonderful! This ‘friend’ was like some unwashed druggie off the streets. Each time I tried to reason with him, we’d descend into a dreadful argument and he’d walk out, or slam down the phone.”
Stevie was quiet. The spaniel put his head on her knee, giving her a chance to think as she petted him. There were two possible interpretations. Perhaps Danny was excited about his work and simply wanted his mother to understand . Her indifference crushed him, yet he never gave up trying. Or maybe Frances was right. Daniel was mentally ill and in desperate need of help.
She began softly, “Professor—Frances, I know you didn’t approve of him choosing art, but is it right still to be giving him such a hard time about it, ten years on?”
She tilted her head, meeting Stevie’s gaze. “I don’t know what went wrong. I so hoped he’d take after his father. His logical career path would have been the sciences, medicine, even law. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare to watch their child going off the rails into a fanciful occupation that’s never going to bring any money or status.”
“But he was so talented.”
“Lots of people are talented, and still end up penniless.”
“It hurt Daniel that you didn’t like his college friends.” Stevie took a sip of tea from the bone-china cup. “Couldn’t you have accepted him the way he was?”
“Oh, that’s the trendy thing to do now, isn’t it? No. I was too disappointed, too worried by the bad influences on him, both then and now. I kept hoping he’d see sense.”
“Bad influences like me?” The younger, nervous Stevie wouldn’t have dared say such a thing, but she was more confident now, a match for the acid-tongued professor.
“Nothing personal. I wanted to protect him. He’s always been drawn to types with an aura of anarchy and laziness about them. I hated my son being part of that.”
“I don’t recognize that description of our old friends. I’m not in the gutter on drugs. I manage a museum.”
“Well, good for you. The funny thing, though, is that he’s never stopped talking about you. He still claims that you were the one who made him paint so furiously.”
Stevie felt a wave of shock and denial as she recalled having similar thoughts this morning. “After all this time? Are you suggesting this is somehow my fault?”
Frances shook her head, coppery hair bouncing on her thin cheeks. “No, no, of course not. But it’s all so— Stephanie, I didn’t mean to be accusatory. I’m not handling this well. But I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“Can I see the
Stevie felt dread trickling through her. “Was Daniel that bad?”
“Oh, Stephanie, he was out of control. Every time I saw him he looked worse; exhausted, manic, talking nonsense. I was extremely concerned about his lifestyle, the company he was keeping. He brushed me off, told me to stop interfering.”
“What company? A girlfriend?”
“No, I mean the assorted low-lives who encouraged him because they think it’s clever and radical to be constantly stoned. He needed protecting from himself! I wanted him to see a doctor, but just the mention of it made him furious, and I couldn’t force him.”
“That’s terrible.” The understatement was all she could manage.
“The warning signs were always there. You know that.”
“But we didn’t take drugs at college. An occasional joint at a party, maybe, but neither of us was into it.” Stevie had to challenge Frances’s view of her son. “Are you certain he was ill? Or is it more that you didn’t approve of him?”
Frances sipped her tea and put down the cup. She looked haggard. “My disapproval is irrelevant. Things had gone far beyond that. He’d talk about the visions he was painting as if they were marvelous, when anyone could hear he was raving. He even tried to win me round by bringing home one of his supposedly wonderful new friends.” Her mouth turned down in distaste. “Wonderful! This ‘friend’ was like some unwashed druggie off the streets. Each time I tried to reason with him, we’d descend into a dreadful argument and he’d walk out, or slam down the phone.”
Stevie was quiet. The spaniel put his head on her knee, giving her a chance to think as she petted him. There were two possible interpretations. Perhaps Danny was excited about his work and simply wanted his mother to understand . Her indifference crushed him, yet he never gave up trying. Or maybe Frances was right. Daniel was mentally ill and in desperate need of help.
She began softly, “Professor—Frances, I know you didn’t approve of him choosing art, but is it right still to be giving him such a hard time about it, ten years on?”
She tilted her head, meeting Stevie’s gaze. “I don’t know what went wrong. I so hoped he’d take after his father. His logical career path would have been the sciences, medicine, even law. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare to watch their child going off the rails into a fanciful occupation that’s never going to bring any money or status.”
“But he was so talented.”
“Lots of people are talented, and still end up penniless.”
“It hurt Daniel that you didn’t like his college friends.” Stevie took a sip of tea from the bone-china cup. “Couldn’t you have accepted him the way he was?”
“Oh, that’s the trendy thing to do now, isn’t it? No. I was too disappointed, too worried by the bad influences on him, both then and now. I kept hoping he’d see sense.”
“Bad influences like me?” The younger, nervous Stevie wouldn’t have dared say such a thing, but she was more confident now, a match for the acid-tongued professor.
“Nothing personal. I wanted to protect him. He’s always been drawn to types with an aura of anarchy and laziness about them. I hated my son being part of that.”
“I don’t recognize that description of our old friends. I’m not in the gutter on drugs. I manage a museum.”
“Well, good for you. The funny thing, though, is that he’s never stopped talking about you. He still claims that you were the one who made him paint so furiously.”
Stevie felt a wave of shock and denial as she recalled having similar thoughts this morning. “After all this time? Are you suggesting this is somehow my fault?”
Frances shook her head, coppery hair bouncing on her thin cheeks. “No, no, of course not. But it’s all so— Stephanie, I didn’t mean to be accusatory. I’m not handling this well. But I don’t know who else to turn to.”
“Can I see the
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