Puppies Are For Life (13 page)

‘Pity,’ he said, casting a calculating eye round the well-stocked studio. ‘I should have thought this was more your scene. Haven’t you ever thought of giving up the job and concentrating on this? I’m sure you could make a success of it.’

‘Oh, I wish …’ she sighed, getting to her feet. ‘Now I’m afraid I’m going to have to hurry you …’

‘Sure.’ He made a move to the door. ‘Is that a definite no, then? Could you really not find some time?’

‘I –’

‘Think about it, at least. Come and look at the room. You may not find it as daunting as you think. I’ll leave you one of my cards.’ His smile as she opened the front door for him was enough to make her swoon. ‘I do hope you decide you can do it,’ he said, before striding off down the path.

‘Wow-ee!’ Katy yelped when she wandered back into the kitchen. ‘So where did you find him?’

‘He’s much too old for you,’ Susannah admonished, ‘and you should never trust charming men.’ She bent to pluck the baby from the pile of socks, which were now almost as grubby as he was. ‘Ye gods and little fishes … couldn’t you at least have put a clean top on him?’

‘What for?’ Katy paused on her way out of the kitchen. She was making a bee-line for her bedroom so that she could smarten herself up for her appointment.

‘What for?’ Susannah retorted. ‘Because he can’t go to the doctor’s like this, can he? Just look at the filthy state of him!’

‘You mean, he’s coming with us?’ Katy watched with a vacant look on her face as her mother snatched a striped garment from the airer and felt it all over for dryness.

‘Well of course he’s coming with us. You don’t expect him to stay here, do you? What’s he supposed to do – clean up this mess and start the dinner while we’re out?’ She tugged at the jumper and Justin’s head popped through. ‘And where on earth’s that brother of yours got to?’

‘How would I know?’ Katy shrugged. ‘I’ve got to go upstairs.’

In the time it took Katy to get ready, Susannah dressed the baby for outdoors and did a whirlwind clean round the kitchen. She was ready herself, in her coat and boots but chopping onions to make use of every available second, when Katy reappeared.

‘I hope no one thinks he’s mine,’ she grumbled, glaring hard at the baby. ‘And I hope no one thinks he’s yours either.’

‘That,’ Susannah growled back at her, ‘is the least of my concerns.’

The driveway at the side of the cottage was
beginning to look like a West Country traffic jam on a bank holiday weekend.

Paul pulled on his hand brake and carried out a survey by the beam of the security light: there was Frank’s Volvo and the caravan; Susannah’s little car as well as Simon’s – which he had hinted was out of petrol but so far no one had stumped up for; and now there was his own. If anyone were to park in the garage they would never get out again.

He reached for his briefcase beside him but something caught his eye: Jan was weaving her way through the vehicles with all the appearance of an over-eager squeegee merchant intent on cleaning his windscreen.

She rapped hard on his side window and mouthed for him to open his passenger door. Seconds later she was sitting beside him, bundled in a thick old cardigan.

‘I hope you don’t mind, Paul, but I was hoping to have a quick word. I’ve been watching out for you.’

‘Nothing’s the matter, is it?’

‘No, well, not in the way you mean. Everyone’s all right as far as I know. Frank and I have been out on business most of the day, trying to sort out our own little problems, and now we’re thoroughly exhausted. We’re going to have a light supper and an early night. We shan’t be troubling you.’

Paul nodded understandingly. She and Frank could hardly be over the long journey home with the caravan, without the day’s outing on top. He
sat clutching his briefcase, waiting for her to get to the point; already the car’s heat was evaporating.

‘You’re no trouble at all, Jan,’ he said, trying to move the conversation along. Jan seemed to be finding it difficult to say what she felt she must say.

‘Are you sure?’ She bit her lip, looking dubious. ‘I – er – I’ve been wondering whether we were. I mean, I must be the last person Susannah wants around on top of Simon and Katy. You know how she’s always been.’

Paul sighed deeply. ‘I wish Susannah would put an end to this ridiculous feud. It’s gone on far too long, and it really isn’t like her.’

‘I know. But … if you’d rather we went away, we’ll do our best to oblige. Frank will have to swallow
his
pride and beg shelter from some of our old friends.’

‘No, no, of course not. I won’t hear of you moving on. As far as I’m concerned, you’re family, and this is where you ought to be. Don’t let Susannah put you off; she’s just going to have to lump it.’

Paul propped his elbow against the window ledge and gnawed at one of his knuckles.

‘Paul –’ Jan couldn’t help noticing his sudden irritation with his wife, and put out a comforting hand. ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking this, but what’s been going on? Oh, don’t look at me as though I’ve discovered the world’s best-kept secret; it doesn’t take much to see that things aren’t right between you and Susannah. I noticed it straight away’

Paul smiled grimly out through the windscreen. So that was why Jan had waylaid him! He really ought to have guessed.

‘I suppose we’ve just hit one of those rough patches people talk about,’ he finally admitted. ‘I expect we’ll get over it soon.’

‘You’ve never hit one before,’ Jan pointed out. ‘At least, I don’t think you have. You always both seemed happy enough.

‘We were. Yes, you’re right. We always have been content. This is something new’

‘But you don’t want to tell me about it, do you?’

‘There’s not that much to tell. It seems such a little thing, really’

‘So there isn’t … someone else?’

Paul shot her a glance. ‘Certainly not on my part. And not on Susannah’s either. At least, I don’t think there is; I haven’t really thought of that, to be honest. No, this isn’t a some
one
else; it’s more a some
thing.
’

He thought about it for a moment. ‘You’ve heard of golf widows, and football widows, and that sort of thing? Well, this is similar, I suppose; a compulsive hobby taken up by one partner that excludes the other completely. All Susannah’s spare time’s taken up with mucking about in her so-called studio these days, making things with mosaic tiles. She just won’t leave it alone.’

‘That’s a new one on me.’ Jan looked mildly surprised. ‘Mosaic-making, eh?’

‘I didn’t mind at first. Thought it was a good
idea. I helped her fit out the studio, as a matter of fact. It was something for her to do. Only now …’ he shrugged expressively. ‘She’s going at it as though her life depended on it. She’s got no time for Katy or Simon, and seems to have forgotten about Natalie altogether. Of course, I don’t get a look-in either. It’s beginning to get me down.’

‘She’s always made things, hasn’t she?’ Jan nodded slowly and speculatively. ‘Yes, she always had the creative urge. Been very good at it, too. I think I’m beginning to see …’

‘Creative urge, my foot. Creating a family’s enough, surely? I don’t know; women these days – they want everything, it seems to me.’

Jan sucked in air as though she’d touched a nettle. ‘You think they should be there when their families want them, don’t you?’

‘Right.’

‘And see
their
happiness as their main concern.’

‘Yes.’

‘And achieving that should be fulfilment enough for them.’

‘Yes. Yes! I only wish Susannah could see it that way.’ He turned to appeal to Jan. ‘I suppose you couldn’t possibly have a word with her?’

‘Now when could I ever speak to Susannah, Paul? You might as well ask me to cuddle up to a hedgehog. Look, if I get the opportunity, then I’ll do so. But to be honest with you, it would be pointless. Anyway,’ she wrapped her cardigan about her
and began to get out of the car, ‘it’s hardly
advice
that she needs.’

When Jan’s parting shot had penetrated, it left Paul a little confused. Her tone had been snappy, rather than sympathetic. Why? He’d thought he’d been gaining an ally; now he wasn’t so sure.

‘Dad!’ Katy threw her arms round her father the minute he stepped into the kitchen.

‘Hi, honey-bun,’ he said, ‘hi, Gazza,’ and she was relieved to see, on releasing him, that the glum face he’d had on arrival had relaxed into a little smile. But she also noticed that, although he had peered round the steamy kitchen and couldn’t have failed to see her mother at the sink, he’d said nothing at all to her.

Katy watched as he put his briefcase by the back door. He seemed rather preoccupied; would he remember that she’d been to see the doctor this evening? She had phoned him at work to tell him she had an appointment, and he didn’t usually forget things.

‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘how did it go this evening?’

‘At the doctor’s?’ She beamed her delight at him; of course he had remembered! ‘Well, the one I saw was absolutely ancient – must have been eighty at least. But he was quite nice really, I suppose. Actually, he seemed a bit depressed. He was called out three times last night and he’s on call again
tonight. And his wife gives him nothing but stick for it. Isn’t she mean? It’s hardly his fault, is it? She must have known what she was up against when she married him. And –’

‘Hey, wait a minute, Katy!’ Her father was chuckling now. ‘The doctor was supposed to listen to
your
complaints, not the other way round.’

‘Yes. Yes, I know.’ She clammed up a little at this. So maybe she hadn’t handled the situation as well as she might; he didn’t have to say so, did he?

‘Well, he did listen to me – sort of.’

‘I should jolly well hope so, too. And what does he think you’ve got wrong with you?’

‘I don’t think he really knows.’

‘Well –’ her father shook his head in that exasperated way of his – ‘is it RSI or isn’t it?’

‘He said that doesn’t exist.’

‘Oh … for heaven’s sake.’

‘He said it might be carpal tunnel – er – syndrome. Or it might be arthritis, or something. But it can’t be RSI. Well, it can’t be, can it, if it doesn’t actually exist?’

‘But people are suing for RSI these days,’ he spluttered, ‘
and
getting compensation. I’m still looking into that, by the way. How can he say it doesn’t exist?’

He looked across at her mother, but all the response he got was a shrug. Were these two not speaking, she wondered? Ever since she’d come home there had been a bad atmosphere. And even when they did talk to each other they
didn’t sound too friendly. What was going on?

‘Well, I don’t know about other people,’ Katy went on, seeing that her mother had no intention of contributing to the discussion, ‘but
he
said there’s no such known medical condition.’

‘Oh, that’s just terrific. But he can’t dispute that you’ve got
something
, so what does he intend to do about it?’

‘He’s sending me to a hand clinic’

‘Oh, really! Now I’ve heard just about everything. Can there be such a thing?’

‘He would hardly be sending me to one if there wasn’t.’

‘No, I suppose not.’ Her father rubbed the back of his neck and glared down at his black office shoes. He looked as if he was mentally drumming up an army of top solicitors to fight his daughter’s cause.

He sighed. ‘I suppose all this is going to take months. What are you expected to do in the meantime, I wonder? Go about with a begging bowl?’

‘I don’t know, I’m sure.’ Katy flapped her hands at him. ‘I suppose I just wait around.’

‘But didn’t you ask him what was best for you? I mean, should you exercise your hands or rest them? Keep them warm or put them on ice?’

‘I don’t
know.
I didn’t
ask.
’ She felt her face going sulky, but couldn’t help it. Treat me like an incompetent child and I’ll behave like one, she thought.

She’d already been grilled like this by her mother
and had been looking forward to her father coming home with his endless stock of sympathy, not a list of nit-pickings.

It was all her mother’s fault. She was surely to blame for the bad atmosphere in the house; the ‘vibes’ were definitely coming from her. Could it be – Jee-sus! – that she was having an affair with that man? And did her father know about it? She looked carefully from one parent to the other and found that her father had put on his resigned look.

‘The world’s full of absolute idiots,’ he was saying. ‘And what does that doctor think he’s up to? Anyone could do that job with a medical encyclopaedia in one hand and the other tied behind his back.’ He rounded on his wife. ‘I thought you were going to go with her.’

‘Oh, I thought it’d somehow be
my
fault,’ her mother snapped right back at him. ‘Well, I did, as it happens. But Katy didn’t want me to go right into the doctor with her; she’s much too old for that. So I stayed outside with Justin. And he taught himself to walk, holding on to the furniture.’

‘Did he? So soon?’ He smiled in spite of himself. ‘At least someone in this benighted family’s a credit to me. I suppose Simon will have put him to bed by now? Where is Simon, by the way?’

Katy jumped as a lid banged down on a saucepan.

‘We don’t know where Simon’s got to.’ Her mother spoke through her teeth. ‘But Justin’s finally dropped off under the sideboard and I don’t
dare move him in case he wakes up. Katy’s supposed to be keeping an eye on him.’

‘Dinner going to be long?’ Katy saw her father look pointedly at the table; normally a gin and tonic was waiting for him there, but tonight her mother hadn’t made him one. And she wasn’t taking the hint.

If her mother was having an affair
secretly
, she thought, then she wasn’t very good at covering it up; she ought to be being extra nice to him.

‘I suppose I’d better get changed,’ her father muttered after a while, and he went unhappily upstairs.

Susannah threw salt into the pan. Paul hadn’t even said hello to her, let alone give her his usual kiss. As for asking how
she’d
got on … well, he seemed to have completely forgotten about Harvey coming to see her.

And Simon was taking advantage … how could he keep leaving her to cope with the baby like this? If he’d gone to see Natalie why hadn’t he taken Justin with him? And what did Natalie think she was up to?

It was all getting too much for her. They’d had to wait ages at the doctor’s, and Justin had got so tired. The minute they got home she’d had to rush around bathing him, trying to feed him, and getting him ready for bed … but that must be Simon now.

‘Ah, the wanderer’s returned!’ Susannah turned from the cooker, hands on hips, and waited for an explanation. But none was forthcoming. Simon
merely grunted in the general direction of his mother and sister and sat down on a chair at the table.

‘I didn’t mean to be so long,’ he said eventually. ‘Has Justin gone to bed?’

‘Yes, he has as a matter of fact. He said he was feeling rather exhausted after a hard day and apologised for not being able to wait up for you.’

Simon looked at her and blinked.

‘Actually,’ Susannah amended, ‘he’s dropped off under the sideboard and was too tired to eat anything I offered him. He’s been learning how to walk.’

‘No, really?’ Simon brightened for a second, then lapsed back into the cloud of despondency that had hung round him, since he’d shambled in, like an over-large coat. ‘Ssh … I missed it! His very first steps!’ He slumped down in his chair and began to play with a fork.

Susannah had laid the table ages ago; it fooled people into thinking the meal would be ready any minute. She hoped.

‘I’ve been to see an old friend,’ he said, making tramlines on the cloth with the fork prongs. ‘I wanted to find out about signing on. Toby – the friend I saw – works in one of the Job Centres. He knows all the ins and outs.’

He turned to Katy who had taken up a TV magazine crossword puzzle. ‘You’d better sign on too, Katy. And you’d better do it soon.’

Alarm sprang to the girl’s eyes. ‘Do I really have to?’

‘Well, of course you do. Noodle.’

‘What for? And don’t call me Noodle.’

‘To get money, of course, sister dear. How else are you going to eat?’

‘Well –’ Katy’s gaze gravitated naturally to the cooker and came back to her brother’s face. Clearly she thought the question superfluous.

‘I take it you’d like some dosh, though? You know –’ he lowered his voice, wishing he hadn’t veered so close to the unmentionable topic of sponging off one’s parents without appearing to do so – ‘for clothes and … well … things.’

Katy showed interest for a moment then shook her head. ‘Not if I have to beg for it. Mum –’ She appealed to her mother, her lip curling in disgust at the idea. ‘I don’t have to go and beg, do I?’

‘It’s not called begging, Katy, and it isn’t. You’ve a perfect right to claim in times of trouble.’ Susannah lifted the saucepan lid and threw a generous amount of chilli into her concoction. ‘Heaven knows, your father and I must have put enough into the national cake over the years to support this whole village. It’s about time we got a few crumbs of it back.’

‘A few crumbs of what?’ asked Paul, coming back into the kitchen.

‘I don’t have to go to the DSS, do I, Dad?’ Katy sprang over to her father. ‘I don’t have to go and beg?’

‘No, no, of course not.’

‘Wha-a-t …?’ Susannah began.

‘But why not, Dad?’ Simon jumped in. ‘I’m signing on.’

‘Yes, I thought you might,’ Paul said, ‘and I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about it. There’s no need for either of you to claim dole money; I’d really rather you didn’t.’

‘But, Paul –’

‘I don’t want children of mine having to ask for handouts. I’ll give you whatever you need.’

Katy threw her arms round her father again, but Simon was looking embarrassed.

‘Dad,’ he mumbled, digging ever more deeply with the fork, ‘I don’t want to depend on you …’

‘It’s better than joining the queue, Simon. We’ve never depended on the State for anything and we’re not going to start now. Your mother and I can look after you. Can’t we, Susannah?’

But Susannah could only flounder. ‘Katy,’ she said, suddenly rousing herself, ‘and you, Simon – hadn’t you better go and see what the baby’s getting up to? I think I heard him wake up.’

Simon and Katy exchanged glances, as if to ask each other how anyone could ‘hear’ a baby wake up, unless it actually yelled. Did its eyelids go clunk, or something? But they realised they were being got rid of and wisely took the hint.

‘I can’t believe you just said that!’ Susannah exploded when she and Paul were alone.

‘Said what?’ he asked, dipping a teaspoon into the chilli to taste it. His face was a mask of innocence.

‘You’ve stopped Simon and Katy claiming benefit,’ she accused him, ‘when they’re perfectly entitled to do so.’

‘They may be entitled, but they don’t need it. They’ve got us to help them out.’

‘Yes, but … they won’t
always
have us, Paul, will they? And anyway, you’ve paid a fortune in taxes for this sort of thing; why dip further into your own pocket?’

‘No one will ever be able to say that
I’ve
failed to support my children when they needed it.’ He made it sound as though she
was
failing them.

Susannah glared at him impatiently while the chilli glued itself to the pan.

‘Paul,’ she said eventually, ‘I know you mean well, but I don’t believe you’re doing either of them the least bit of good, cushioning them like this. They have to learn to stand on their own feet, and the sooner they do it the better.

‘They won’t thank you later on in life for depriving them of the lesson; they’ll just look back and see you as some sort of soft great idiot with more money than sense. What you’re doing,’ she added, unable to resist a jibe, ‘looks to me suspiciously like trying to buy love.’

‘Well, no one’s ever going to accuse you of that!’ he flung back at her. He inclined his head towards the pan of chilli. ‘And any mother worth her salt would have remembered that her son is a vegetarian!’

Paul and Susannah hardly exchanged a word throughout the evening, but when they went to bed she realised she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she had told him about Harvey’s proposed commission. It might help mend the rift between them, she decided, some good news like that.

‘Harvey Webb came this afternoon,’ she told him while he was tinkering about at the vanity unit with a yard of dental floss.

‘Who?’ he asked, turning from the mirror at last and kicking away his slippers. He threw back his side of the duvet to reveal Gazza curled up in a ball.

‘
You
know – I told you about him; he’s interested in my mosaics. Which is more than I can say about some people,’ she added tartly, unable to stop herself. So much for mending rifts.

‘Oh, him,’ Paul said, moving the cat to her side of the mattress.

‘Yes, him. And you’ll never guess what: he wants me to make him a mural.’

‘He does?’ Paul sank thoughtfully down, swivelled his head on the pillow, and eyed her for a long minute.

At that moment she was imagining a sun for the design. A sun rising up over a hill.