Mothers & Daughters (44 page)

I made myself shift away from him, out of reach of his arm. Probably he knew then.

‘David, it's taken me a long time to get where I am. Settled, I mean, and calm. I had a difficult marriage, years of trouble with Jaz, this latest upset. Finally I can see a bit of clear water ahead. What I have is enough. And although I do want to be with you – believe me, you have no idea how much – I can't risk losing what I have. I daren't. I really daren't. You don't know my daughter, even now.'

‘I see.' He clasped his hands in his lap, a man defeated.

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Yes, I know you are. Is there anything, anything at all I can say to persuade you?'

‘I don't think so.'

‘Then I shan't drag this out any longer. It's unpleasant for us both.' He rose and stood, looking down on me. ‘Thank you for being honest, at least. I shan't bother you with it again. Next week I'm off to the States for a few months to see my sister, so that should give us all some space to recover. I'm sorry if I've distressed you; that was never my intention. But will you do one thing for me, Carol?'

‘What?'

‘Will you try and make Jasmine confront what she's done? What she did to you when she took Matty away, and what it's cost you this afternoon? And what she means to you, how much it matters that she's fair and decent in her dealings with you. I don't think she sees any of it, and she needs to.'

‘She's not a bad person.'

‘Will you speak to her?'

‘I can't promise.'

‘Then you won't have any peace till you do.'

And he turned and walked away into the trees.

Waste of time crying for the moon
, said my mother's voice.

CHAPTER 34

Photograph 67, Album One

Location: outside Phil's mother's terraced house, Tannerside, Bolton

Taken by: Phil

Subject: The other Mrs Morgan, Betty, stands with her arms folded and a cigarette between the index and third finger of her right hand. She reminds Carol slightly of Eileen's mother – a slattern – but where Eileen's mother is built on a large scale, Phil's is little and shrunken. She's older than Frieda, but dresses younger, to ghastly effect
.

No one's really expecting this visit to be a success
.

Husbandless Betty's on a lower rank to start with, and she knows it. There was never any point in trying to impress. So she doesn't. ‘You've to take me as you find me,' she says, elbowing Frieda jocularly in the ribs
.

Engagement celebration it may be, but they eat across two folding, clothless tables, while ITV plays in the background. The first course is potted meat barmcakes, during which Betty tells a joke about a man refusing to eat tongue because he doesn't like the idea of anything that's been in an animal's mouth and so asks instead for a nice boiled egg. Frieda
absolutely does not laugh; the room is filled with the loudness of her not-laughing. Bob pretends absorption in the exploits of Black Beauty. Phil laughs uproariously, even though he's heard the gag before, because he means to show whose side he's on. He's fed up of Frieda's narrowed eyes scrutinising, finding fault; she must think she's the Queen or something
.

When Carol finally gets the joke, she laughs too, and Phil loves her for it
.

Dessert is tinned pears plonked in cereal bowls and eaten with soup spoons. By now Phil and Carol have got the giggles and cannot stop. Pear juice comes out of Phil's nose, and despite the pain and disgrace, he remains helpless
.

By
Sale of the Century,
everyone's had enough and the coats are brought back in. Carol stands looking round the room, tries to imagine through Frieda's eyes the matted shagpile rug, the collection of trolls, the porcelain cat climbing the green brandy glass, the unravelling raffia plant-holder. The Whites are not well-off, by any stretch of the imagination, but they make a better fist of things than this. She feels simultaneously proud of her mother, and ashamed of her
.

‘Come again, it's open house,' says Mrs Morgan, flicking ash into a chrome-plated pedestal ashtray. Carol suspects sarcasm, but passes Phil the camera anyway. It's unlikely there will be any more visits between the in-laws, so they'd better commemorate this one
.

I pulled the car up outside Phil's place, and sat, considering.

In all the years he'd lived there, I'd never once been inside. There was no need. It wasn't as if Jaz was a kid and needing to be shuttled between households. Phil's new life was all his own, I didn't want any part of it.
I haven't even a washing machine
, went Phil, making me think of a derelict flat I'd seen
on TV the night before. What would it be like inside, the place where my husband had chosen to set up home with his spiteful, lumpen mistress? For everything she'd taken with her, would there still be evidence of her decoration, her tastes?

Did I dare go up and ring the bell?

And what if he'd been lying, and she was still there? What in God's name would I do then? For a few moments I let a fantasy run of Penny opening the door and me punching my car keys into her face.
Ha! Weren't expecting that, were you?
Perhaps if I'd carried on like that from the start, kicked and screamed and fought, brawled in the street like a fishwife, I'd have saved my marriage. If I'd wanted a husband brought to heel that way, if I thought he'd wanted such a wife.

I'd have given anything to turn the keys in the ignition now and drive straight up to Chester, and David.

But that was a chapter closed.

I needed to see my ex.

He wasn't expecting me; I didn't want to give him chance to hide anything. As soon as he let me through the door, though, I could see he hadn't been lying.

‘It's a mess,' he said.

There were gaps everywhere, and dirty marks along the walls. Sometimes you could guess at what had been there before: some sort of arched dresser in that corner, a bureau or bookshelf along that side. There were dents in the door where it must have opened repeatedly against a table edge. ‘How much a month do you spend on car magazines?' I asked because random stacks of them rose up everywhere, some on the floor, others on chairs or balanced on the windowsill. Despite the clutter, the middle of the room felt empty; there was no sofa, though you could see from the hollows in the carpet where one had been. No curtains, either. He followed my gaze. ‘I keep
meaning to get a blind,' he said. ‘This weekend. Maybe. I don't spend that much time in here.'

The kitchen wasn't as bad as I expected in that, although the drainer was full, the sink was empty and clean, the lino swept.

‘I'll get sorted in the end,' he said.

‘I thought you said she'd taken the washing machine.'

‘It's new. I wasn't going to start mauling with launderettes. Funny, in some ways, it's quite nice to have everything stripped away. Makes you re-evaluate what you need. It's almost like you could start again.' He looked hopefully in my direction.

‘Or not.'

‘Yeah, well.'

There were only tall stools to sit on. I tried perching on one but it felt unnatural and exposed so I got up again and stood, shuffling my feet.

‘Where's she gone?'

‘She's at her mum's. That's where she was headed, first off. Although she might have gone on somewhere else, I'm not sure. It's nowt to do with me any more. She can go camp on the moon as far as I'm concerned.'

‘So that really is it?'

‘It really is.' He licked his lips nervously. ‘Listen, do you want to come through?' I wasn't sure what he meant. Then it clicked he was talking about the bedroom. ‘Only I'm all set up there. This is no good, in here. I promise, no funny business.'

He was inviting me to see the room where he'd lain with Penny.

For a second I was too appalled to answer, but I didn't want him to see that. ‘I came to give you the latest on Jaz,' I said.

‘About Ian mending her hot-water tank? Yeah, she told me. Hopeful, eh? She was round earlier.'

‘What, here?'

‘She dropped in for half an hour with Matty. I played bowls with him, Matty-style. You know, crash, fling, wallop, thump.' He nodded at a small cardboard box that I hadn't noticed before because it was tucked between the bin and the wall. The flaps of the box were pushed half-open by a selection of cheap toys, bright and out of place in this shabby kitchen. ‘She'd never come round when Pen was living here, but now she's popping in every week or so. I keep that lot for the entertainment of his lordship.'

‘Oh,' I said. ‘Great, that's great.' It shouldn't have been a surprise that Jaz was visiting her dad, that Matty was getting to know his grandad better. It was a good thing. It just felt odd.

‘Come on,' he said. ‘Let me take you through.'

And suddenly the compulsion to see the life he'd led without me was overwhelming.

‘OK,' I said, shrugging in case he thought it was a big deal.

When I saw the bedroom I understood at once why the lounge was so neglected. This room was almost twice as big, with a (curtained) bay window, a two-seater sofa, TV, computer workstation. It was moderately tidy, too, though the television screen was dusty and the window panes could have done with a wipe.

‘You have made yourself at home, haven't you?'

‘It's all right.' Phil seemed pleased, shyly proud.

I made myself turn and look at the bed.

‘That's new too,' he said. ‘Brand new.' He walked over to the swivel chair by the monitor and sat down. ‘You won't find anything of hers anywhere.'

‘Makes no odds to me.'

‘I'm only saying. It's all how I want it now. Everything around me, to hand. I can put something down and it stays there. Hey, I've even a mini-fridge next to the bed. In fact, do you fancy a can?'

He urged the chair forward on its rollers and leaned down to open the fridge door. ‘Ice cold, yeah? It's really good.'

His naked delight amused me. ‘No, thanks.'

‘Oh, go on. You used to love a cider. When we were first married, it was your tipple of choice . . . Do you remember the White Swan in Alnwick? That swanky dining room that had come off an old ship? I can see you now, in your leather coat, all those grand fittings round you, sipping half a pint of Woodpecker. Yeah? You remember that, Carol?'

I did. As soon as he'd mentioned it, I could see the wood panelling and the gracious columns, the thick red carpet and the snowy tablecloths. Afterwards we'd gone for a walk up to the castle where he'd run about the grounds, re-enacting scenes from Robin Hood, till an elderly couple told him off. So then he stalked them, pulling faces, till they stropped off to the car park and we collapsed, hysterical with laughter.

‘Sure you won't have a little sip?' said Phil, waggling the can at me.

‘Oh, go on, if it'll shut you up. But I can't have much, I'm driving.'

He grinned, and tossed the can over to me. I settled into the sofa and tried to ease back the ring-pull without the contents exploding. Phil selected a bottle of Stella for himself.

He said, ‘It is weird, though, isn't it?'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Well – life. How are you, in yourself, Carol? What are your plans?'

‘Keep my head down, now Matty's back. If I can just untangle things between Jaz and Ian.'

‘Yeah. I meant, how are
you
, though?'

‘I'm all right. Don't try and be clever.'

‘I'm not. I'm only asking.' He sighed. ‘Looking back to when
you were starting out, you know, in your twenties and such, did you have any idea your fifties were going to be like this?'

‘Like what?'

‘A bit of a fucking shower.'

‘Speak for yourself.'

‘Aw, come on. You know what I mean. Is this what you envisaged when you imagined yourself at fifty-odd?'

‘What do you think?'

Again he sighed. ‘It's a bugger, isn't it?'

The can flexed cold under my palm. ‘I always thought your middle age was a time of calm and wisdom,' I said slowly, ‘when you'd have everything important in its proper place. I never dreamed there'd be any of this – this upheaval. There are days I feel I don't know who I am, which is ridiculous at my age. Like some confused teenager. I said to someone this week I was a coward, and I waited for them to disagree and they didn't. Served me right.'

‘That's bollocks,' said Phil. ‘Who was it? Laverne?'

‘No one you know,' I said hastily.

‘Well, it is bollocks. God, when I think of some women.'

‘Don't bring
her
into it.'

‘The way you dealt with Jaz growing up . . .'

‘You were always criticising me for that!'

‘How you coped with your dad's illness, how you supported Eileen at the end. You were a rock. And putting up with me. Even I can see I must have been a tricky sod to live with.'

His expression was so rueful it was almost funny.

‘Don't think for one minute that admitting it wipes it all away,' I said sternly.

‘As if. Seriously, though, the last thing you are is a coward.'

‘I am with Jaz.'

He seemed to consider this; at least he took another long swig of lager, and then stared up at the ceiling rose. ‘You're not
a coward. But I've told you before, you don't stand up to her like you should. You've got balls, but sometimes you need to strap them on a bit tighter.'

‘Charming turn of phrase.'

‘It's true. You forget, I've known you since forever. The daft thing is, she'd respect you more if you did take a bit of a harder line.'

He was so wrong. I thought of Jaz's face twisted with fury, her fist gripping Ian's jacket and shaking it like a dog. The memory still made me feel sick.