Like she always did; her mum picked a rather upscale, posh restaurant to eat at.
Rebecca really should have known that they were going somewhere like that when Morag insisted that she put a scarf on to hide the bruises scattered across her neck.
They were sat fairly quickly and being wary of the time, Rebecca decided against anything to fancy and just had the Ceaser salad while her mum went for the salmon.
"So," Morag began, "Tell me more about Roger. How'd you meet him?"
"It was actually because of Sophie," Rebecca explained, "She invited me to this gig with her friend Mary. Mary met Freddie, who's the singer and then that's how I got introduced to Roger."
"He's in a band?"
As soon as her mother said it, she heard it - the unimpressed tone in her voice, "Yes."
"That's funny. Sophie said that he's in uni."
Was there anything that Sophie hadn't told her?
"He was," she smiled, "He was in uni but he'd just dropped out. All of them have."
"Dropped out?" her mum looked simply horrified, "What would they go and do a thing like that for? They're throwing away their futures on the fantasy of a succeeding band."
Rebecca said a quiet thank you to the waiter who put her salad down in front of her before speaking to her mum again, "They're really good. And people are starting to know it. They've actually just been signed to EMI. The record company? They manage Elton John."
She was pleased to say that her mum actually looked impressed and realising that she had hit a nerve, Morag quickly changed the subject.
"What happened with the studio? With Jeremy?"
Rebecca shrugged, spearing some lettuce onto her fork, "Things weren't working out."
"Rebecca," her mother warned, "If you've thrown away a perfectly good job the-"
"A good job?" she scoffed, "Mum, I hated that place. I'm happier in my new job."
"Which is what?"
"I'm working at a makeup counter."
"Does it pay well? Does it pay more than what you got working for Jeremy?"
"Well, no, but that doesn't matter."
"Of course it matters," Morag snapped.
"Not to me, it doesn't. Mum, Jeremy treated me like shit. The people who used that studio treated me like shit. My job in there was to clean and they had me running around after them; getting them lunch, getting them their tea and cigarettes. But now, I'm doing something that I enjoy. Something that I'm actually good at!"
Her mum was shaking her head, "Do you know how that makes me feel? How it makes me look that you left the job I got for you? It makes me look like an idiot."
Rebecca felt her eyes burn. This isn't how she thought the lunch would go but really, she shouldn't have been surprised.
Her mother had been like this for years now. Always caring about what those around her thought of her. Obsessed with anything and everything that wasn't her daughter.
"You used to be so supportive," Rebecca said, her voice shaking, "All my life until I left school. Then you just stopped. Why?"
"You didn't try?"
"Didn't try?" she repeated, "I didn't try? Mum, you saw how many hours I spent revising. How many practice papers I did. How can you say that I didn't try?"
"You didn't try hard enough," Morag's voice was hard, something that, unfortunately, Rebecca was becoming used to, "I had so many hopes for you. That you'd become a doctor or a lawyer. But no, you failed your exams, didn't get into university and I had to find you a job. Which you had the audacity to walk away from."
Rebecca's bottom lip was trembling now but she bit down to keep it steady. She wasn't going to start crying in the middle of this fancy place. She wasn't going to make a scene. That wasn't her style.
Instead, she wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood up, grabbing her jacket and bag, "Well, I'm sorry to be such a disappointment, mum. And I'll save you the trouble of phoning about this, I won't be home for Christmas this year."
With that, she spun on her heel and made for the door.
||-||
"You've met her mum? Blimey, it must be serious."
"She turned up unannounced. What was I supposed to do? Jump out her window?"
The band were now in the pub, having finished perfecting their set list for the tour with Mott the Hoople and it was Freddie's idea to go out for a couple of drinks afterwards.
"So what was she like?" Deaky asked, "Is she as nice as Rebecca?"
"No," Roger muttered, "They're nothing alike. Her mum, she's intense and I'm pretty sure she hates me."
"Give over," Brian rolled his eyes, "I'm sure she doesn't hate you."
"Should have seen the way she was looking at me," he huffed, "It was like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Oh, and she called me Richard."
Deaky snorted, holding his hands up when he glared at him, "Perhaps she misheard?"
"She heard Rebecca just fine," Roger said quietly, "Can we change the subject? Please?"
"This tour is two months," Freddie spoke from across from him, "How do you think you two are gonna cope? You barely spend a day apart."
Roger's cheeks turned a faint pink. It was true. Since he met her six months ago (was it really that long?), the longest time they'd been apart was when they did their uni circuit.
"Yeah and look what happened," Brian put some more drinks down on the table.
"That was different," Roger muttered, "Kerry fucked that up. We were fine until she had that coffee with her."
"So you think you'll be okay?"
"Do you think you and Hannah will be okay?" he retorted.
"Oh, did we not tell you?" John asked, "Hannah's coming with us. She's gonna take some photos."
"What?"
"Yes and Mary's coming along too." Freddie said, "Didn't you know that?"
"Are you joking?" Roger asked, "When was this decided?"
"It's always been decided," Freddie shrugged, "We just assumed that you would have asked Becca to come along too."
"I thought we weren't- you know what? Forget it."
"Please don't ask her to come," Brian groaned, throwing his head back and Roger gasped at him.
"What?"
"I like Rebecca," he quickly corrected, "I do but it's just...we always end up sharing rooms, Roger and I don't want to hear you two going at it every night."
Roger sunk down into his chair and crossed his arms, "It's not every night. We're not animals."
He ignored the looks the three of them gave him and grabbed his drink. Idiots.
||-||
Rebecca didn't go into work. She rang from the nearest phone box and told Linda that she wasn't feeling well before she made her way home, where she decided to finish the bottle of wine that she and Roger had opened last night.
She didn't even grab a glass, unscrewing the lid as she fell down onto the couch, the tears she had managed to keep at bay slipping from her eyes.
And that's how Roger found her.
At first, when he opened the door to see her crying into one of her cushions, he immediately thought the worst; that she'd be hurt and was quick to throw his keys down onto the table by the door and go to her side.
"Hey," he whispered, large hands framing her face so he could look at her, checking for any physical injuries, "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Why doesn't she care?" Rebecca whispered and he swore that his heart broke when she looked at him, "Why doesn't she care about me, Rog?"
That's when he realised that she was talking about her mum and he sighed, moving to sit beside her on the couch, where she immediately climbed into his lap to rest her forehead against his, "Lunch didn't go so well?"
"Why can't she just be happy for me?" she asked, "She didn't care that I wasn't happy in that job. Didn't care that they all treated me like crap."
"I care," Roger whispered, kissing her cheek, "I know that it's not the same but I do. And I'll always care."
"I just want her to be proud of me," Rebecca mumbled tiredly and Roger looked at her coffee table to see two empty wine bottles.
"What've you been doing, hm?" he hummed, looking down at her to see that her eyes were slipping shut, "Gone and got yourself drunk, haven't you?"
"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking up at him once more, "She just made me so upset..."
They descended into silence and after a couple of minutes, Roger looked down to see that she was fast asleep and he sighed, pressing a kiss to her temple before slowly standing up to put her to bed.
He really didn't like her mother.