Puppies Are For Life (19 page)

‘Perhaps we could build an extension?’

‘Or do up the garden shed.’ Katy let out a snigger after her contribution. ‘It’s got a lovely en suite water butt.’

‘We could go into Bath for a bath,’ Simon added, beginning to get in the mood. He grinned. ‘I meant, to use the facilities at the sports centre.’

‘And we could fill the boot of Dad’s car with washing, and take it to a launderette.’

‘We could each have a machine to watch over.’ Natalie spoke for the first time.

‘And hire Molly Maid to iron it all!’

The younger members of the family were now rolling helplessly all over the furniture, even though nothing funny had been said.

‘Really, I don’t find this amusing,’ Jan scolded, but her acid tones had no effect.

‘I think you’ve lost your touch, love.’ Frank spoke drily from the depths of his chair. ‘Your class is out of control.’

‘I wish you would all be serious!’ Jan rasped. ‘We do have a real problem to solve.’

Susannah looked across at her. ‘I don’t think there is a solution, Jan.’

Then Paul spoke quietly from his corner. ‘Oh, but there is, Susannah. There is.’

Paul drained his whisky glass and looked round at the family. Assured of their full attention he began to explain his claim.

‘Susannah and I won’t be here much longer, so the rest of you will be able to spread out.’

Katy’s jaw dropped open at the news. ‘Dad, you aren’t that old,’ she protested, ‘you’ve both got years to go!’ Then she realised by the look of scorn on her brother’s face that she had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She poked her tongue at Simon before turning back to her father. ‘I thought for a minute you meant … but you can’t be going on holiday again already.’

‘I wasn’t talking about taking a holiday, Katy, any more than I was thinking of leaving this world. What I was trying to tell you was that –’ he turned his head away from his wife – ‘I’m being transferred to Glasgow.’

‘Glasgow!’ The word was chorused by everyone except Susannah, who found herself struck dumb.

‘But you never mentioned a word of this,’ Jan said, shifting round on her chair to confront her
step-daughter. ‘Oh –’ She bit her lip. ‘I see this is the first you’ve heard of it.’ She turned back to Paul. ‘That was rather naughty of you, Paul, springing it like this. Shouldn’t Susannah have been the first to be told? And – I would have thought – in private?’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Paul growled, his face darkening under the rebuke. When did Susannah ever want to listen to him? She was in a world of her own.

‘Yes. Quite.’ Jan had misunderstood him. She was already on her feet. ‘You haven’t had much privacy recently, have you? But you shall certainly have some now. Come on Frank – and you children – we’re all going down to the pub.’

‘Frank looked at his glass of whisky; it seemed a bit pointless going out in the cold and paying for something he could get indoors for free. And surely Paul and Susannah could go upstairs to talk? He was about to suggest as much when something in Jan’s face made him think better of it. He allowed his wife to usher him from the room, shaking his head as he went.

Paul and Susannah remained sitting like statues while coats were found, feet were thrust into shoes, and Justin bundled off to bed. They didn’t even move when the back door finally banged.

A minute or two ticked by before Susannah could trust herself to speak, and then she could only do so in a low, strangled tone.

‘What the hell are they sending you to Glasgow for? You told me you were staying put. You said it
was unlikely they’d ever want to transfer you again – and you wouldn’t go if they did. You said you were winding down to retirement. You said, Paul!’

Paul looked down at the carpet; he’d half-forgotten all that. Of course, he hadn’t been sure how she would take his news, but he had hoped she might be pleased. After all, it would solve most of their problems. And a fresh start away from the family could bring the two of them together again.

‘Nothing in this world’s ever certain, Sue …’

‘And what the hell’s up in Glasgow, for God’s sake? Why are they sending you there?’

‘We have quite a large dep—’

‘It’s bloody miles away!’

‘Not all that far really, and the roads are pretty g—’

‘Couldn’t they send someone else? Someone young, and willing, and keen?’

‘They need someone experienced.’ And he still saw himself as young, and willing, and keen.

‘Well, it doesn’t have to be you.’

‘I’m sure you’ll soon get to like it there.’

‘Whether I’ll like it or not is immaterial. Because I flatly refuse to go!’

‘You’re talking nonsense now, and you know it. You can’t refuse to go.’

‘I beg your pardon? Can’t I? How will you make me go?’

‘Susannah, please be reasonable. Of course you’ll have to go. Look –’ he tried to sound calm and reasonable – ‘this is the answer to our problems – can’t
you see? And it’s only for two or three years.’

‘Two or three
years?
And no, I don’t see at all. This would solve nothing for anyone; it only makes matters worse.’

‘Not if we rent somewhere in Scotland, it doesn’t, and let all the family stay here. They could pool together to pay us rent. And we’d still have this place to come back to.’

Susannah had just discovered how the phrase ‘hopping mad’ came about; she was literally hovering from one foot to the other in her agitation.

‘You really think you’ve got it all worked out, don’t you?’ she said. ‘But you’re forgetting one rather important thing. I happen to have a life of my own now, Paul. I’ve work of my own to do. I know it means nothing to you, but it means a lot to me. I’m beginning to pick up commissions – just beginning to get off the ground. I can’t just walk away from it all.’ She turned her back on him. ‘And I damn well won’t.’

‘And I have no intention of walking away from a promotion,’ Paul calmly put in.

Susannah’s head swung round. ‘
Promotion?
This is a
promotion?
But – but – you said you wouldn’t want it – the extra responsibility! You said no amount of money was worth it. And you weren’t going to take it – even if it ever came up.’

Had he really said all that? He couldn’t remember. Must have been one of those ‘off’ days. ‘Well, now it has come up. And I have to take the opportunity. I really don’t have any choice. I might
have thought better of it if you still had a proper job. But with the kids on our hands again we need the money. We need it more than we ever did.’

‘But I do have a proper job! There’s more to a job than just … Oh, what’s the use. You’ll never understand, will you? I don’t think you even try. Well, I’m not going to Glasgow and that’s final. If you go, it’ll be on your own.’

As was the way with most work colleagues, Susannah and Molly had spent more of each twenty-four hours in each other’s company than did many husbands and wives. They thought they knew each other through and through, yet in reality there were vast areas of their lives about which the other was hardly aware. Walking up the path to the door of Molly’s little house, Susannah realised with a flicker of surprise that she had never been there before.

‘Hello, stranger,’ she said when Molly came to the door. ‘Long time no see, as they say.’

‘Heavens! I wasn’t expecting you.’ Molly’s hand flew to her hair.

‘Is it all right?’ Susannah had sudden qualms. Perhaps she should have phoned first.

But Molly wouldn’t hear of her going away again. She drew her over the threshold.

The first thing Susannah noticed was the row of neatly polished shoes lined up inside the door, the three, almost fully grown children, seated quietly
at a table in the front room, heads bent over their homework.

Molly despatched the eldest to fetch tea for the visitor, as Susannah glanced around in confusion. She had never imagined Molly’s taste to be for frills and fussy flowers, nor had she expected such orderliness.

‘It seems a shame to disturb them.’ She nodded at the children. She could hardly take her eyes off them, so unnaturally studious they appeared.

‘We can go in the other room,’ Molly told her when everyone had been introduced. ‘Let these monsters keep their noses to the grind.’

‘Monsters?’ Susannah spluttered the word. These young people were veritable saints.

Bemused, she followed Molly to the back room and sat down on a chair patterned with tiny dots. Molly’s son brought in a loaded tray.

‘I’ll bring you the pot when it’s brewed, Mum,’ he said, practically bowing from the room again. ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’

‘Would you mind if I borrow him for a few weeks?’ Susannah laughed and then grew serious. ‘I honestly meant to give you a ring, you know – give you the gory details …’

‘About your abrupt departure, you mean?’ Molly poured milk into delicate cups. ‘I must say I’ve been dying to hear your version of things. But I thought you might want to be left to lick your wounds for a while so I didn’t try to get in touch.’

‘Lick my wounds …’ Susannah considered Molly’s odd choice of words.

‘Yes, but I wouldn’t do it for too long, if I were you. I was only going to give you until the weekend.’

The teapot arrived and Molly busied herself with it.

Susannah took the proffered cup but declined the plate of French Fancies. ‘I don’t think I get your drift, Molly.’

‘Well, the longer you leave it the more difficult it’ll be to come back.’

‘But I’m not coming back!’ Susannah paused with her cup half-way to her lips.

‘Oh, but everyone’s expecting you to.’ Molly scooped sugar into her tea and tinkled a spoon round and round. ‘We all know roughly what went on between you and Duffy – a couple of the girls were ear-wigging through the partition. And Duffy knows he’s been rumbled. So we reckon that all you have to do is turn up soon and things will carry on as normal – or even better, considering you’ve got Duffy over a barrel.’

‘What a charming notion!’ Susannah smiled grimly. ‘But I’m afraid this is all too late for me.’

She filled Molly in on what she had been doing: how she had taken up mosaics, and how she thought she could make it a going concern. She didn’t mention anything about Harvey, though. ‘You see, things have moved on since I saw you.’

‘Good lord!’ Molly sat back in her chair, her big
knees a little too far apart. ‘I’d no idea you were interested in that kind of thing. You old dark horse! But I must say it’s more you – sort of arty-crafty. And I suppose Paul’s thrilled to bits.’

‘As thrilled as a dog without a bone.’

‘Oh.’

‘For some reason he’s always resented my having this interest. And then when the children came home he resented it even more.’ She leaned one elbow on the arm of her chair and dug her fingers into her hair. She struggled with her emotions, dreading that she was about to howl in front of Molly.

‘Is … everything all right?’ Molly asked. ‘Sorry – seems a stupid question. I can see something’s troubling you.’

Susannah blew her nose. ‘I just don’t seem to matter to anyone. Paul wants us to go to Scotland, would you believe, and I want to stay here and build up a business. I want a chance to do my own thing. But he can’t see it my way’

She went on to tell Molly everything, then there was a silence while they drank second cups of tea.

Eventually Molly said, ‘If you came back to work then Paul would have less of an excuse for going to Scotland, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t claim that money was an issue then. So you could stay here. And do the mosaic stuff, if you really must. But it would have to be in your spare time.’

‘I can’t.’ Susannah thumped the arms of her chair. She was not in a mood for compromise. She
knew that, before long, for the sake of a quiet life she would gradually drop the mosaic work and be back to square one. ‘It would be fine for everyone else, but what about me?’

‘Ah, yes, “me”.’ Molly nodded her head in sympathy.

‘Yes, I know. I’ve got the dreaded “me” disease.’

‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ Molly was looking very serious now. ‘You aren’t going to do something really stupid, are you? Not – let Paul go to Scotland on his own?’

‘That’s what I’ve already threatened him with.’

‘Oh, Susannah, you haven’t! You can’t! It would break up your marriage in no time – and probably your family too. Oh, please think what you’d be giving up.’

‘That’s rich coming from you, I must say. Wasn’t it you who walked out on Les?’

‘Well, he
was
carrying on with another woman. But Paul’s been a damned good husband to you. And a good dad to your kids. Les was neither of those things; and when he asked me to take him back I said no. But I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone: I regret to this day that I did.’

‘In heaven’s name, Molly, why?’

Molly drew herself up with dignity. ‘Because I’ve been lonely as hell, that’s why. You see, it wasn’t just him I lost. I used to be friendly with his sisters. And with his dear old mum. I fell out with my mum over it too; she thought marriages should be worked at, no matter what. So you see, my support
mechanism, as it’s fashionable to call it these days, was totally smashed to pieces.’

‘Support mechanism,’ Susannah scoffed. ‘Is that what it’s supposed to be? I think I could manage without mine.’

And Molly couldn’t persuade her otherwise. But as Susannah walked away from the house to her car, she wondered whether she could really cope on her own half as well as Molly apparently did. Molly seemed to have her life – which must have been tough at the best of times – neatly sewn up now And it was amazing how well she controlled her children. She ought to be running the country, Susannah mused, unlocking her car and ducking into it; she was certainly wasted as a clerk.