Jo laughed. ‘I don’t know, why does it?’
‘Regular mattresses are hard to recycle properly, Matt says – no one bothers to unpick and separate the insides. Whereas when a futon gets old you just cut it open and put the cotton on the compost or make cushions and bench-seats with it. Thrilling, eh? Can’t hardly wait.’
‘See your point,’ Jo said.
‘I want some fun. Simple, ordinary fun.’
‘Stay here for a few days, have a break. You’ll have to talk to him sometime, but let’s not think about that when you’re tired.’
Cassie raised her eyebrows. ‘You sound as if you think I’ve done the wrong thing. Do you? You’re the one who said Matt was a nutter, Mum. I hoped you’d be more on my side.’
‘I didn’t quite say that, nor have I implied that you’ve done the wrong thing. But you will have to talk to him, darling. You can’t just walk out and leave your relationship hanging like this.’
‘Great, well thanks.’ Cassie got up, her face set and angry. ‘Like I don’t know that. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. I can always go and stay with Hatty if you disapprove.’
Jo sighed, recognizing the familiar shape of previous arguments, when her daughter would ratchet up the tempo with wild assumptions about what Jo – or whichever family member – was thinking, feeling or saying, without her actually having thought, felt or said any such thing. She gave her daughter a tight hug.
‘Don’t be like that. You know I’m on your side. If you don’t want anything to eat, then why don’t you go and snug into your box-springs and have a good long sleep.’
For a moment Cassie’s body was tense in her arms, then she felt her relax.
‘Sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to get at you.’
‘It’s OK. Nothing more frustrating than relationship squabbles.’
‘This is more than a squabble.’
‘Go on, get to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.’
Jo was too wired to sleep. She curled up on the sofa, finishing the remains of her wine that Travis had poured earlier. Concerned about Cassie, she knew nonetheless that the drama-queen in her daughter could be exaggerating the problem with Matt – she’d done it before. She kept trying to push away a more selfish thought: Travis. Cassie’s presence would most certainly put a stop to her increasingly intimate and pleasurable evenings with the American.
‘Didn’t see you there.’ Travis spoke softly behind her. She jumped. She hadn’t heard him come downstairs. ‘Is everything OK with your daughter?’
Jo got up, stretched. ‘I think so. Just a marital tiff, although they seem to have quite a bit to work out.’
They both walked through to the kitchen.
‘I came down for some water,’ Travis said. ‘Can I get you some?’
Jo nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She suddenly felt tired, too tired to think about Cassie’s problems. ‘They never stop worrying you,’ she said.
Travis smiled. ‘Yeah, that’s what Mom always says.’
14 September 2013
‘Please don’t come to the previews,’ Travis begged Cassie a couple of mornings later.
‘But that’s the fun of it, seeing it in the early stages before it’s been polished up,’ Cassie objected. They were sitting opposite each other having breakfast. Cassie had cooked herself bacon and fried eggs, Travis was having granola and yoghurt with diced apple.
Jo sat silently at the end of the table, nursing a cup of coffee. She’d been up since six, unable to sleep and had eaten a slice of toast long before the others were stirring. Donna would be round shortly to take her off to Pilates, although she had absolutely no desire to go.
‘Why see it raw when you could wait and see something much better?’ Travis was asking.
‘Raw is fun. And if I like it, I can always come again and see the better version.’ She grinned. ‘No good trying to keep me away.’
‘Not trying to—’
‘Just bricking it?’
He smiled. ‘Yeah, could say that.’
The banter between them went on, Jo a silent bystander. She was pleased when the bell rang, even it meant going to the dreaded class.
‘Hi darling one,’ Donna gave Cassie a big hug. ‘This is a surprise.’ She glanced at Jo. ‘You didn’t say my favourite surrogate daughter was coming up.’
‘She didn’t know. I arrived unannounced,’ Cassie replied. ‘Great to see you, Donna. How’s my boyfriend?’
‘Oh, pining for you, of course. Hardly eaten a morsel since you abandoned him,’ Donna joked.
‘Tell him I’ll be over later to give him a cuddle.’ Cassie turned to Travis, clutching her hand to her breast in a melodramatic gesture. ‘Maybe that’s what’s wrong with my marriage; my heart still belongs to dear Maxy.’
‘Stiff competition,’ he said, as they both started to laugh.
*
‘They seem to be getting on well,’ Donna observed as they walked towards the gym. ‘I suppose they know each other from before.’
There was a chilly wind and Jo wrapped her jacket closer around her body. ‘No, they don’t. They probably bumped into each other at one of the drama school shows, or round the kitchen table, but neither claims to remember.’
Donna turned to look at her. ‘You OK with it?’
‘With what?’
Her friend shrugged. ‘Don’t know, you don’t seem in such a great mood this morning. Thought perhaps you weren’t too keen on sharing actor boy.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! Travis isn’t my property, Donna.’
‘Hmm . . .’ was all Donna replied, her eyes still on Jo, who assumed a nonchalance she was very far from feeling. Typical Donna, she thought, always right on the button.
*
‘OK, Mum, I’m cooking tonight. Travis says he’ll bring Nicky back after rehearsals. He thought they’d be here by eight at the latest. I’m going to do a fish pie. Travis loves fish. Suppose it comes from growing up in San Francisco.’
Jo, her muscles already stiffening up from the class, sat down heavily in the kitchen chair.
‘I like fish too, and I grew up in Gloucestershire.’
Cassie was squatting on the floor in front of the washing machine, loading a pile of clothes she must have dug out of her drawers from years ago. She rolled her eyes at her mother.
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I’m glad Nicky’s coming. I hardly see him since the advent of Amber.’
‘Yeah, well, she’ll probably tag along too. But I’m dying to meet her. Travis says she’s super-pretty but a bit of a plank.’
Travis hadn’t told Jo that. In fact he’d said he thought she was ‘OK’.
‘He’s really sweet, Travis, isn’t he?’ Her daughter straightened up, brushing her heavy, gold-blonde hair out of her eyes and twisting it behind her head before letting it drop down her back in a glossy coil. ‘It’s great to have a normal conversation for a change. We had such a laugh about Amber. God, seems like a bloody age since I laughed.’
‘It’s probably good for Nicky to be in love. He hardly ever is,’ Jo said, trying to ignore Cassie’s admiration for Travis.
‘True. And she’s got to be better than the last one . . . the dreaded Loulou.’
Jo laughed. ‘Famous last words! I’ll ask Donna over as well, shall I?’
Cassie nodded enthusiastically. ‘Good idea . . . make it a party.’
*
The evening was raucous from the start. Donna brought a bottle of gin, one of dry vermouth, her cocktail shaker and a lemon.
‘Martinis! Straight up with a twist OK with everyone?’ she’d asked, without waiting for an answer. But the ratio of gin to vermouth was about a hundred to one – she barely waved the bottle over the gin. And as a result, they became very drunk, very quickly. All except Amber, that is, who looked like an alarmed child when handed her cocktail glass, sipping the chilled liquid gingerly and pulling a face, her pretty nose turned up, mouth puckered, cornflower-blue eyes wide with horror.
Her starved, doll-like beauty – long, floaty, pale-copper hair halfway down her back, minimum make-up, demure pink T-shirt, everything in miniature – rang serious alarm bells to Jo.
‘You don’t like it?’ Nicky, never more than an inch from his girlfriend’s side, offered immediate sympathy. ‘It is quite strong.’
Donna snorted. ‘A weak martini is a contradiction in terms.’
Jo drank hers quickly. She wanted the hit. Her low mood had persisted all day, and she knew exactly why. I’m such an idiot, she told herself as she watched Cassie blatantly flirting with Travis. And Travis responding with his charming smile and quick banter, obviously finding her daughter irresistible. And why not?
Cassie somehow managed to get the impressive fish pie on the table even under the influence of two of Donna’s cocktails, to much praise from the table. The pie was followed by cheese, then fruit salad and ice-cream. It was a lovely supper, but Jo just wanted it to be over.
‘I think we’ll get going,’ Nicky said, in answer to Cassie’s question about who wanted tea or coffee. Amber had said not one word, just toyed with her food, sipped her glass of white wine as if it were cough mixture and looked as though she were on another planet. Jo had tried to engage with her a few times during the evening, but Amber had just nodded and smiled and given nothing back.
‘Blimey,’ Donna said, seconds after the front door closed behind them. And they all knew what she meant.
‘Maybe she was intimidated by us,’ Jo suggested.
Travis shook his head. ‘Nope, she’s always like that.’
‘Really? You told me you thought she was OK.’
He looked apologetic. ‘I didn’t want to diss her before you met. Didn’t seem fair.’
‘It won’t last,’ Cassie said. ‘Once Nicky’s got over the fact that she’s so pretty, he’ll lose interest fast.’
‘Hmm, not sure about that. She’s not only amazing to look at, but she’s vulnerable and childlike too. A lethal combo for any man.’ Donna spoke like someone who knew.
There was silence while the table mulled this over.
‘Not this one,’ Travis said eventually.
‘You prefer a girl with a brain?’ Cassie gave him an arch smile, her body leaning across the corner of the table towards him, her hair falling seductively across her breasts. Jo knew that she was drunk.
‘Doesn’t have to be smart. Gotta have a sense of humour, someone who lets me know who she is. Amber’s a closed book: all that blue-eyed innocence thing going on. Like a mask. Scares me.’ As he spoke he didn’t look at Cassie, instead he met Jo’s glance, his eyes lingering a split-second longer, as if he wanted to communicate something to her. That was how she chose to interpret it anyway.
‘It’s unfair to assume she’s stupid just because she never speaks.’ Jo’s tone was brisk as she tried not to blush.
Cassie laughed. ‘Don’t look so worried, Mum. If Nicks does marry Amber, at least you won’t have to talk to her!’
When Donna had tottered back next door and the table was cleared, the dishwasher stacked, Cassie yawned and stretched.
‘Nightcap anyone? Don’t feel like going up yet.’ Her question was not directed at her mother.
Jo held her breath. She heard Travis groan.
‘Please can we not mention alcohol right now?’
Cassie pouted. ‘Lightweight.’
‘Yup, that’s me. Sniff of the barmaid’s apron . . .’
‘Go on, just one?’ Cassie wheedled. But Travis was not to be persuaded.
As Jo lay in bed she wondered how long she would have to watch her daughter trying to seduce the man she herself was becoming quietly obsessed with.
*
Jo knocked hesitantly on her daughter’s bedroom door the next morning. It was after eleven – Travis had been gone for a couple of hours and there was no sign of Cassie. A muffled ‘Mum?’ greeted her knock.
‘Can I come in?’
Cassie was pulling herself up in bed as Jo opened the door, rubbing her face, brushing strands of hair out of her eyes as she tried to focus.
‘What’s the time?’
Jo told her as she put the mug of tea down on the bedside table.
‘God, thanks, Mum. I just couldn’t sleep. I was still awake at three, and then I must have crashed.’
‘Worrying?’ Jo perched on the wicker chair heaped with discarded clothes.
‘Yeah. Well, thinking, trying to work it out.’ Cassie took a sip of tea and sighed.
‘Has he been in touch?’
‘No. He’s stubborn that way.’ She gave a small smile. ‘We both are.’
Jo didn’t reply immediately, keen not to say anything which would make her daughter fly off the handle.
‘So what’s your plan, darling?’
‘I don’t have one. I don’t know what to do. If I go back, it’ll all just stay the same. But if I don’t, it’s quite possible he’ll never talk to me again. He’s quite capable of just burying his head in the sand, pretending none of it –
us
– ever happened.’
‘Really? I can’t believe that. Surely he loves you enough to make the effort.’
Cassie shrugged. ‘Maybe. But I can’t do anything right now. I’m too angry. If I go home we’ll just do what we did before, blame each other.’
‘The longer you leave it, the worse it’ll get.’
‘Yeah, yeah, so you keep saying. And you’re right, I know that. But
how
do I do it? Tell me. How do I sort out a relationship with a man who has only one focus, and that focus isn’t me?’
Jo had no idea.
‘Maybe you need to talk to him with someone else there to mediate.’ Her mind flashed back to Hugh, the Tuesday mediator and she wondered how he was.
‘You mean counselling? Matt wouldn’t be seen dead with a woman in a flowery skirt asking him personal questions about his sex life.’
Jo laughed. ‘They’re not all like that.’
‘In Devon? Really? I think you’ll find they are. Anyway, that’s not an option.’
There was silence for a moment.
‘I’m just worried that you’ll get into something else, something you’ll regret . . . if you don’t sort it out sooner rather than later.’
‘Get into something?’ Cassie frowned. ‘You mean have an affair?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose—’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mum. Anyway, so what if I do? I haven’t had sex with Matt since one solitary night in April when we both got drunk. He’s so bloody knackered all the time . . . and . . .’ Cassie’s eyes filled with tears, ‘I don’t think he finds me attractive any more.’
‘Oh, darling. I’m sure he does . . . he’s just lost his focus a bit.’
Her daughter sniffed, reached for crumpled tissue on the bedside table.
‘You’ve got to stop worrying about me, Mum. I’m thirty-two. I’m a grown woman. If I want to have sex with someone else, it’s not really any of your business.’ Her tone seemed to close down the discussion.
Jo got up. ‘OK.’
‘I’ll sort it, Mum. I will. Soon.’
Jo went into her study, hardly reassured by her conversation with Cassie. Am I trying to get rid of my daughter so that
I
can flirt with Travis? she asked herself. She was dismayed by the thought, but she couldn’t deny the twisted knot of jealousy she’d experienced when Cassie and Travis had been laughing together the evening before.
*
‘Don’t tell the guys,’ Cassie whispered the following day, glancing towards the stairs. ‘But I’ve got a ticket for tonight . . . the first preview.’
‘You’re just going to turn up?’ Jo was envious. She was dying to see the play, see Travis on stage. And her son too, of course.
‘If I tell him and Nicks, they’ll freak and ban me. This way they won’t know I’m there till afterwards, when it’ll be too late.’
‘Up to you.’
‘Promise you won’t tell them? I’ve got to meet Hatty this afternoon, so I won’t be back before the show.’
‘I promise.’
Cassie had dragged Travis off the night before to a pub in the West End to meet some of her friends. He’d had the evening off before the previews began. Jo had sat at home, bereft. And jealous. All evening, through supper, a glass of wine, a blood-soaked Danish detective drama on Sky, she had wondered what they were talking about. If Travis was flirting with her daughter. If he was fancying her. If he was
kissing
her. It made her feel quite sick. Not just because of the stabs of jealousy, but because it was her
own daughter
of whom she was jealous.
In the end she had gone next door. She knew Donna wouldn’t be in bed before midnight. Her friend was in her tracksuit bottoms and a light sweater, an open book by the armchair she’d been sitting in. Jo threw herself on the sofa.
‘Sorry to interrupt. I saw your light and I really need to confess something terrible,’ she told Donna when they both had cups of mint tea in their hands.
‘You’ve had it off with actor boy? At last!’
‘I wish,’ Jo muttered. ‘No . . . this is far worse.’
‘Go on.’
Jo let out a long sigh. ‘OK. This goes no further, right?’ She watched Donna nod impatiently. ‘I think Cassie is going to seduce Travis and I’m green with jealousy.’
Her friend stared at her. ‘And that’s it? Your grisly secret?’ She roared with laughter. ‘God, darling, if that’s the worst it ever gets, you’re one lucky girl.’
‘You don’t think being jealous of your own daughter is
bad
?’
‘Oh, sweetheart, it’s normal. All mothers envy their daughters at some time. They’re at the height of their youth and beauty as yours starts to wane. What’s not to envy?’