Anywhere's Better Than Here (31 page)

But she felt sorry for Margaret. It couldn't be easy having only one child and that child making themselves unavailable. She seemed nice enough – not at all as posh or cold as Laurie had imagined.

Well, quite posh, but not cold. Laurie wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand.

‘‘I'm sorry Laurie. Really I am.'' Margaret shook her head. ‘‘All I've ever wanted is for Gerry to be happy.'' She kept shaking her head. ‘‘I don't know where I went wrong, I really don't.''

Now Laurie patted Margaret on the arm. She was wearing some sort of silky blouse under a knitted tank top thing. The blouse felt soft and almost damp. It was the colour of a late night sky and it seemed to pull Laurie closer to it. She stroked the fabric while Margaret wept quietly without a loss of decorum. If you walked past the kitchen and glanced in you would think Margaret was just standing waiting for the kettle to pop. She stood straight as tears rolled quietly down her face. Her mascara didn't even run and yet it was obvious to Laurie that she wasn't faking her upset. She really was broken-hearted at Gerry's lack of contact.

How could Gerry not want to see his mother? She was far nicer on first appearances than her own mother had been and Laurie would give almost anything to have even that vague, unsupportive presence in her life still. It used to happen to Laurie when she was a teenager that she'd fall in love with a boy's family and would hate to eventually give up hanging out with someone else's more successful family life. She wondered if she might be able to go and see Gerry's mum after all this was over. Maybe she could offer herself up as a surrogate daughter. She could talk to Margaret about art or anything.

She'd already proven what a good daughter she was when it counted.

But then the thought occurred to her that Margaret was at least five years older than her own mother would have been and that she couldn't face going through all that death and pain again. She didn't want to see anyone else hooked up and fading unless she absolutely had to. She pulled her hand away from the silky arm with a final pat.

‘‘You haven't gone wrong with Gerry,'' she said to Margaret. In light of all this, Laurie certainly didn't want the burden of Gerry. She needed to think clearly. She'd be far better off on her own. The thing was to stop Margaret crying so they could get the show on the road and she could extricate herself from all this drama. ‘‘He needs help.''

The woman smiled sadly. ‘‘He won't take any. His father arranged for him to see a colleague.'' She turned away and poured the water from the kettle into the tea pot. Laurie was glad to note that she didn't warm the tea pot first – or any other tea superstition. ‘‘A really first rate psychiatric specialist. But he wouldn't go. He was, of course,'' she gave a forced little laugh, ‘‘far too polite to say no outright.'' She put the lid on the teapot with a firm clunk. ‘‘But he didn't arrive for his appointment and he didn't get in touch again until this morning.'' She reached into her handbag and took out a biscuit tin. ‘‘We thought it best to wait for him to get in touch this time.'' She opened the tin and shook out a pile of Kit-Kats on to a plate then she picked up the tea tray and pivoted on her heel. She nodded at the kitchen door.

Laurie held the door for her then followed her back through to the living room. Ed and his mother were still sitting as they had been. Both of them had their hands tucked neatly between their knees. Ed's mother had a polite smile on her face. Ed looked down at the carpet. His mother moved to stand.

‘‘Oh no,'' said Margaret nodding for Ed's mum to stay seated. ‘‘You stay there. Now,'' She put the tray down and hovered over it, ‘‘what would you like in your tea?''

‘‘Oh, just milk thank you,'' said Ed's mum, smiling away as if this was just a nice little social visit and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Laurie looked at Ed to see if she could try and work out what he was thinking. He looked up at her and nodded curtly. This was all very strange and unsettling. Now that the boy's mother was here then why were Ed and his mother – and herself for that matter – still here? They should drink up and hit the road. But she really didn't want to be stuck in the car with them for a couple of hours. Especially as Ed's mother had just passed her driver's test. She was wary enough in real life, never mind what she'd be like behind the wheel. She could just imagine – face close to the wheel, shoulders as far up as they'd go, driving at 40 on the motorway. God knows what she'd be like on these windy country roads.

But did she want to go home with Gerry? She still couldn't believe it. She'd had a strange feeling about the boy from the beginning, but she couldn't honestly say why that was. And her priding herself on working out who the murderer was on crime shows! When had Gerry worked it out? Surely not straight away? It must have been this morning. There had been a kind of smugness about the two of them when she'd come out into the garden. But then, surely Gerry would be decent enough to tell her and not just surprise her like this? But she hadn't given them a chance. She remembered chucking her coffee cup over the wall and blushed afresh.

Laurie blew the surface of the tea she seemed to be holding. ‘‘Oh,'' she said. ‘‘Thanks.''

Margaret smiled politely at her.

‘‘So,'' Laurie said to Ed. ‘‘What now?''

He shrugged helplessly. ‘‘What do you mean?''

She frowned. She'd almost forgotten how annoyingly obtuse he could be. ‘‘What about Jamie?''

‘‘Jamie? Do you mean Paul?'' Ed looked confused.

‘‘Yes, Paul.'' She could feel herself looking at Ed as if he was the idiot. ‘‘He was calling himself ‘Jamie'.''

‘‘Why?''

She looked at Margaret. ‘‘Well, I presume so that he wouldn't give the game away to Gerry.''

Margaret looked away with a tightening of her lips.

‘‘What game? What are you on about?'' said Ed with more irritation than he normally showed.

‘‘Gerry didn't know that Jamie, Paul, was his son.''

‘‘What are you talking about?'' asked Ed impatiently.

Laurie raised her eyebrows at Margaret. He was her son and she knew this story better. Let her explain it.

Margaret sighed. ‘‘When Paul was born, Gerry was away in the army. He and Jenny,'' she sighed again, ‘‘went their separate ways, when Jenny found out she was expecting.''

‘‘So?'' asked Ed.

‘‘Don't be rude Ed,'' said Laurie, surprised by his tone.

Ed glared at her. It was a look she'd never seen from him before and instantly it shamed her. ‘‘Rude? Don't be rude?'' He thumped his cup down on the table. ‘‘You have no idea how polite I'm being. No idea!''

He stood up and walked out muttering to his mother, ‘‘I'll be waiting in the car.''

Ed's mother turned to Laurie and narrowed her eyes, ‘‘I don't see why you'd be surprised.'' She jabbed her chin at Laurie. ‘‘You've broken his heart, you know.''

‘‘You don't know what you're talking about,'' said Laurie quietly.

‘‘One day you might be a mother and then you'll get an idea of what it's like seeing someone treat your child so,'' she screwed her face up in concentration, ‘‘casually.'' She jabbed a finger at Laurie. ‘‘He's worth more than this.''

‘‘But …''

Ed's mother cut Laurie off with a chop of her hand.

‘‘But nothing.'' She was much more impressive in her anger. ‘‘I know he's not the right person for you.'' She leaned forward, still holding her cup. Laurie waited for her to slop tea all over herself. ‘‘That's been obvious from the start.'' She was clutching the cup so tightly, Laurie wouldn't have been surprised if it shattered. ‘‘But have you ever considered that you aren't the right person for him?''

Laurie looked down at her tea cup.

‘‘You haven't, have you?''

Laurie shook her head. It was like being back at school.

‘‘You don't think much about other people do you?'' Ed's mother didn't wait for an answer. ‘‘You're a pretty girl Laurie and when you've stopped being so,'' she exhaled heavily, ‘‘
selfish
I'm sure you'll be good for somebody, but you need to start thinking about other people, instead of yourself all the time.''

Laurie sat quietly, waiting for her to let it go.

‘‘I know you don't have a mother now to guide you …'' the woman's voice softened.

Laurie's head snapped up. ‘‘Nobody's ever guided me.''

Ed's mother raised an eyebrow as if to say, well look what's happened. Laurie could feel herself start to cry. It was the type of crying that left you ragged and dirty looking. Perhaps she could hold it off by not speaking. She looked down at her hands.

‘‘You have to sort your life out, Laurie.'' Laurie heard the tea cup finally being placed on the table. ‘‘You can do what you like with your life, go anywhere.''

Laurie heard Ed's mother stand up. ‘‘Just try and treat people with some respect.''

Laurie counted slowly to ten.

‘‘Thanks for the tea.'' Laurie felt her hovering damply next to her. ‘‘I wish I had the possibilities that you have.'' Her hand fluttered over Laurie's shoulder and then she was off.

Laurie sat still, trying to stave off the tears that lurked behind her eyes. What Ed's mother had said was like a script from some TV movie. She knew she could do whatever she liked with her life and she knew she was lucky, but really, what was the point of it? She'd still be herself wherever she went; she'd still have no clue about what she really wanted.

At least if you sat at home bemoaning the fact that your life didn't turn out the way you wanted it to, you still had the fiction that things might have been different, if only …

Laurie and Margaret sat in silence for a few minutes. Laurie couldn't bring herself to look up from her lap, let alone form any words.

Margaret cleared her throat quietly. ‘‘If you don't mind me asking Laurie, how old are you?''

Laurie took a deep breath.

‘‘I'm nearly twenty-five.''

Maybe she should have given herself a few extra years so she was closer in age to Gerry. She couldn't be bothered with another disappointed mother.

‘‘When I was twenty-five I was trying to get pregnant. It took two years and it was the only thing I thought about all that time.''

She refilled her and Laurie's cups and picked up a biscuit.

‘‘We came up here every opportunity we could.''

She took a small bite of the biscuit, chewed quickly and swallowed.

‘‘I dreamt all the time about climbing a mountain. A snow-capped mountain that was filled with birds and animals that were watching from all the trees and bushes.'' She filled her tea up again. ‘‘They all had human eyes. They weren't at all frightening – just watchful, like new babies.'' She smiled to herself.

Laurie waited for her to go on but Margaret sat back in her seat and sipped her tea.

Laurie couldn't work out what was expected of her. It was an unusual situation. Here she was: a fair bit younger than Gerry, shown to have treated her boyfriend shabbily, sitting mutely next to her fling's mother who was reminiscing about some freaky dream from years ago.

Paul entered the room silently. The sneaky little idiot had probably been ear-wigging the whole time. He perched on the arm of his grandmother's chair and she reached up and rubbed his shoulder blade. He turned and smiled at her. They were obviously close.

Laurie waved her finger between the two of them.

‘‘Did Gerry not know about all this?''

Margaret looked at her. ‘‘It wasn't a secret. But he wasn't in touch much and things were very one-sided. He'd send us a Christmas card and phone now and then.'' She sighed. ‘‘Often I didn't even know where he'd been posted.''

‘‘That must have been hard,'' Laurie said.

Margaret nodded. ‘‘But at least we saw Paul and Jenny.''

Paul smiled at his grandmother and then looked at Laurie. He blinked at her. If you didn't know the situation, you'd think he was a lovely young boy, so nice with his grandma.

‘‘So what are your plans now Laurie?'' he asked innocently.

Laurie looked at him calmly. ‘‘I don't know, Paul.''

She was still the adult here. He'd better not get the notion that somehow the two of them were equals. ‘‘Your father and I will need to have a chat.''

‘‘Your father and I,'' he mimicked her.

‘‘Paul, stop it,'' said Margaret.

‘‘I tried to help you and you lied to me.'' Laurie stood up. ‘‘Don't forget that.''

‘‘You wanted shot of me, more like,'' Paul said, standing up and facing Laurie. ‘‘You just wanted him to yourself.''

‘‘Come on, that's enough,'' said Margaret, catching Paul's hand. ‘‘It's not Laurie's fault.''

‘‘Don't worry,'' said Laurie ‘‘I'll leave you lot to sort out your own situation.''

Margaret's eyes flicked left to right, scanning Laurie's face. She made no move to say anything and Laurie left the room.

She passed the still-open front door, forcing herself not to look out at Gerry and Jenny. As she went upstairs she thought about what to say to Gerry but she couldn't think where to even start.

The bedroom was as she'd left it a few hours before. She pulled the sheet up and tucked it in, making as neat a job of it as she was able. Then she smoothed the quilt out and plumped the pillows.

She glanced around to make sure she hadn't left anything. But, of course, she hadn't brought anything to leave. She sat down at the window and looked out at the hills. From here she could just see the top of Gerry's mother's car. She stood up and looked down at the car. Gerry and Jenny were inside it, talking. She could only see the top parts of their faces from this angle. All she could tell was that they weren't shouting and they weren't kissing.