After the Honeymoon (36 page)

Clearly this was serious.

‘He’s quite young,’ she added.

‘How young?’

‘Twenty, twenty-one. Don’t worry! He won’t be as good as you. No one can be, whatever Poppy says.’

‘You know she admitted to messing up my honeymoon?’

‘And did
you
know she’s the producer’s niece?’

No, he hadn’t.

‘I might as well tell you. This new chap they’re trying out is her boyfriend. I know, I know. But my hands are tied. The producer is insistent. Just sit it out. It’s the only thing to do.’

Was it?

‘Definitely.’ His agent sounded like Melissa did when she was trying to get the kids to do something they didn’t want. ‘Have another honeymoon. Use the extra time to be with your new bride and her children. OK?’

That had been a few weeks ago. Since then, Melissa had been very quiet. Yes, she understood, or so she said, but he didn’t believe her. Meanwhile, she was taking more and more makeover jobs, both locally and in London, while he was passing the time by working out, house-husbanding and ‘babysitting’. Every now and then he found himself turning on the television and watching this skinny kid running
his
show. Incredibly, the critics loved him, and so did the mums and grans, who saw him as a pin-up son.

‘Piss off, Freddie!’

As for the kids, they were so noisy that he had a permanent headache. Thank heavens school had started now.

The phone! He seized the landline with the desperation of a man who was utterly bored.

‘Winston?’ Tara rarely had to say who was calling. Her voice did that for her.

‘Any news?’ he asked hoarsely.

‘I’m afraid there is.’ Her flat tone gave him the news before she spoke. ‘The decision has finally been made. They’ve terminated your contract, Winston. And before you ask, they’re entitled to do so. There’s a small clause about a presenter’s conduct – either past or present – bringing the programme into disrepute.’

‘I see.’ He was already pulling on his jogging jacket. Out. He needed to get out. In the kitchen, he could still hear Melissa yelling something about missing shoes.

‘If it makes you feel any better,’ his agent was adding, ‘they weren’t going to renew next time anyway. The general feeling was that they needed someone younger …’

His fingers pressed the red button, terminating the call. He could always blame poor reception, but the truth was that he simply couldn’t take it any more.

‘Hiya, Winston!’

The man on the doorstep virtually walked right into him. Marvyn! ‘Kids ready for school?’

The bloke was looking around as if he still owned the place, instead of having reluctantly ‘given’ it to Melissa as part of the settlement. ‘Said I’d do the school run today for Mellie as she’s under the weather.’

Marvyn fixed him with a disdainful sneer. ‘All this nasty publicity over your sordid past has got her down. I have to say, I was never out of work myself. Never allowed myself to be, not when I had a family to support.’

Winston felt his muscles tightening. ‘Don’t worry. I can look after my wife.’

There was a nasty laugh. ‘Can you? Not if you believe all your hate mail on the net. Personally, I rather like your successor. And do you know why?’ His face hardened. ‘Because he’s not under the same roof as my own kids.’

That was it.

‘You can keep them, especially your spoilt brat of a daughter.’ Pushing past him, Winston strode into the street, breaking into a jog. As he ran, he switched on his phone. He hadn’t wanted to make this call. But now there was no alternative.

‘We had to live with our in-laws for the first six months. It was hell.’

Angela, now living three hundred miles from her husband’s family

EMMA

‘How could you?’ Emma had yelled at Tom after she’d discovered the payment slip from the newpaper. ‘How could you have sold a story about my friends?’

He’d just come home from work, still in his greasy navy blue overalls and with oily hands that he was washing now under the kitchen tap, even though she’d told him time and time again to do that in the bathroom instead of mucking up the sink.

The children had been having their tea, Willow reluctantly strapped into her high chair, banging her spoon on the food tray, while Gawain (who’d been sitting quite nicely on his booster seat for a change), leaped up on seeing his dad.

‘Lift, Dad!
Lift!
’

Tom had scooped up his son – now his overalls would stain Gawain’s sweatshirt – and given a shrug. ‘It wasn’t a story, love. Just a tip-off. The paper runs a little box every day, asking readers to send something in that might be worth publishing.’

‘That doesn’t mean you have to stoop to its level!’ she’d spat back, furious at his lack of remorse. ‘And it wasn’t just a tip-off. It was a betrayal. I told you in confidence about all that Winston stuff. I was trying to divert you when you were feeling poorly. And now you repay me by making me lose a friend!’

Two little red spots appeared on each of his cheeks. Good. So he knew he was in the wrong. ‘These celebrities set themselves up in the public eye, love. They get paid enough.’

‘Well, not now. Winston hasn’t been on telly since we’ve got back.’

Tom’s cheek spots were crimson now. ‘That’s not my fault.’

‘How do you know? I suppose you somehow found out about Winston being Jack’s dad, did you, and told the paper about that too?’

‘What?’ She had seen he was genuinely perplexed. ‘No way. I was as surprised as you to read about that.’ He reached out his hand. ‘I’m sorry, Em, but I thought it was a harmless way to earn a bit of spare cash after the wedding.’

Turning away, she’d pulled Gawain out of his arms, despite his little hands hanging onto those filthy overalls.

‘Dad Dad!’

In vain, she’d tried to get her son to sit down at the table. ‘Well, it
wasn’t
harmless,’ she threw out over her shoulder. ‘Like I said, Melissa isn’t talking to me any more, and I don’t blame her. Now go and change, cos to be honest, I don’t want to talk to
you
at the moment either.’

She’d ignored him for the next few weeks, quietly seething inside. Part of her anger, Emma knew, was because she felt guilty herself. It was all very well Bernie advising her to ‘put it behind you’, but she wasn’t made that way. She’d been unfaithful during their honeymoon and Tom had caused problems with someone else’s marriage.

They made a right pair.

Just as well that she had the kids – and the after-school club – to distract her. In fact, she was really enjoying her little extra job. Unlike her lunchtime duties, this was more relaxed. All she had to do was make toast for the children (who came from both the primary and secondary schools) and put out some toys and games for the younger ones. The older kids had a special quiet corner to do their homework.

‘I’m doing a project on animal behaviour,’ one of them told her.

Hah! They ought to come and do some research at her house, then.

Sometimes, they asked for a bit of help, even though they were meant to do it on their own. ‘Mrs Walker,’ asked a little girl with a patch over her eye one evening; ‘what does Con Fid Ent mean?’ The kid frowned down at the sheet of questions in front of her, sucking her pencil. ‘You’ve got to say what these words mean. I’ve done some but I don’t get them all.’

‘You know,’ she said, pulling up another small chair and inviting the little girl to sit next to her. ‘When I was your age, I couldn’t swim.’

The girl’s eyes widened. ‘Really?’

Emma nodded. Even now she felt embarrassed to admit it. ‘My dad used to take me down to the swimming pool every Sunday.’ A lump swelled up in her throat. It had been their special time together. ‘Gives me a chance to have some time to myself,’ Mum had said.

‘But,’ she continued, talking more to herself than the little girl now, ‘I was too scared to leave the shallow end. I didn’t have the confidence, you see.’

She was conscious now of a couple of other children listening in. ‘What happened, miss?’ asked a big kid with round red cheeks.

‘My dad told me that we can do whatever we want.’ Her voice grew soft at the memory. ‘He said that our minds can be like magic. You have to believe and then it works.’

She could almost see Dad right now, standing waist-deep in the water and holding his right hand up in the air. ‘So he pretended to wave a magic wand. I was really into magicians then. Dad and I used to watch a conjuring show every Friday night on telly.’

Emma paused again, remembering how they’d snuggle up together on the sofa, her head on his shoulder. Thick as thieves, her mother used to say. ‘So I believed him.’

The little girl with the patched eye drew in her breath. ‘Cool. So did you swim to the deep end then?’

‘Not immediately. It took a bit of time. But I did make a start by doing a few kicks.’

When she had learned to swim properly, Dad had gone out and bought her a pair of roller skates. ‘You’re spoiling her,’ Mum had grumbled.

‘So what?’ Dad had retorted. ‘What’s the point of having a kid if you can’t give her stuff?’

How was it possible, Emma thought now with a lump in her throat, for a father and daughter to have become so distant? Why oh why had he betrayed Mum and her like that? But who was she to talk?

‘I can do the next word on the list! I can do it!’ The little girl with the covered-up eye was jumping up and down with excitement.

Emma glanced down at it.
Forgive.
There it was, in black and white, as though someone had written it down especially for her. ‘It means make up,’ babbled the little girl. ‘My mum’s always saying that my sister and I have to do that when we’re fighting.’

Getting up from the child-sized chair and adjusting her elasticated skirt, Emma patted the little girl on the shoulder. ‘Your mum’s right. Arguing isn’t nice. Now, who’d like some toast?’

There was a wave of excited ‘Me!’s as she headed for the kitchen. ‘Emma!’ called out one of the other helpers. ‘Can you make some for my table too?’

‘No, thanks.’ A cool, confident voice rang out. ‘I don’t want
her
to make me anything.’

Was that Alice? She hadn’t noticed her there in the other homework corner. Unable to stop herself, Emma felt her cheeks burning, making it look as though she was in the wrong. The other helper was staring at her curiously. ‘Something I ought to know about, here?’

‘My mother says that she isn’t to be trusted.’ Alice’s words rose above the din around them.

The helper was giving her a really funny look now. ‘It was a misunderstanding,’ Emma muttered. ‘How many pieces of toast did you say you wanted?’

Somehow she got through the rest of the session, but all the time, she had her eye on the door. Would Melissa pick up Alice and Freddie, or would it be Winston? Should she say something or just keep quiet?

‘Always be true to yourself, love.’ That had been one of her dad’s sayings. He might have been a hypocrite, but there was no reason why she had to be one too. So as soon as Melissa came through the door, with her hair tied back in a really clever knot and her face beautifully made up, Emma made her way over, heart pounding with apprehension.

‘You?’
Melissa’s face said it all. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Working. Can I have a word?’ Emma took her to one side. ‘I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell you this.’

Melissa’s glossy lips tightened. ‘Tell me what?’

‘It was Tom that did it.’ Emma gave a quick look around to check no one was listening. ‘I’m so sorry. He texted the paper and told them some of the stuff I’d told him about you and Winston and the kids … I know I promised not to tell anyone, but I didn’t think my own husband counted.’ To her embarrassment, she felt her eyes well with tears. ‘I’m beginning to think I don’t know him as well as I thought.’

Something gave in Melissa’s beautiful dark eyes. ‘It’s not always easy to know what someone is really like.’

She turned to go but Emma caught her by the arm. ‘I miss … I miss talking to you. It was really nice having you on holiday. You were so kind to me, lending me that medicine and including me in things. I’d like to think we can be friends.’

Melissa hesitated.

‘It’s not cos you’re famous,’ Emma added hastily.

‘Hah!’ There was a wry smile. ‘Not any more.’

Of course. There was a new presenter now, wasn’t there? Mum loved him, but personally Emma didn’t think much of his exercises. They didn’t push you like Winston’s had done. Not that she’d given them a fair chance.

‘It’s because I
like
you. So can we? Can we be mates?’

Melissa smiled. When she did that, she was a different person. ‘Maybe. I suppose it’s nice to know you’re here to look after my two at after-school club.’ She glanced at Alice, who was hogging the computer, despite the queue. ‘Poor things. They’ve been through so much recently. Perhaps you could keep a special eye on them, to make up for everything else. OK?’

Well, that was something, at least. She’d got things straight with Melissa, even if it had meant dropping Tom in it. Mind you, it served him right. He shouldn’t have done what he had, just as she shouldn’t have allowed the drink and sun to go to her head …

Feeling a bit uneasy, Emma finished tidying the after-school club along with the others and began walking back to her house, where mum was looking after the kids. There was a definite chill in the air: autumn was beginning to set in already. They’d been married now for two months and already they were in trouble. Every time Tom kissed her, she felt so horribly guilty.

‘Thank goodness you’re back.’ Mum opened the door with Gawain in her arms before she had a chance to get the key out. ‘What was in that blue bottle in the bathroom? There wasn’t a label on it.’

The blue bottle? Emma felt a cold fear go through her. That was the one that Rosie Harrison had given her, wasn’t it? She’d brought it back from the villa by mistake, forgetting to give it back. ‘Something to stop you being sick. Someone lent it to me in Greece when Tom was ill. Why?’

Mum jerked her head at Gawain. ‘This one’s only gone and climbed on a stool to take a swig.’