He knew she was waiting for something from him and when it didn’t come, she said, ‘Well, you have no choice
then. You’ll have to let her monopolise you.’ There was a laugh. ‘Ah, see what I did there.
Monopolise
… very good. Off you go then, Tom. Go directly to jail, do not pass Go …’ She patted him fondly on the backside and walked away.
He wasn’t taken in by Fran’s cheery tone – he knew she was frustrated that he would not open up to her about Steph.
He walked back into the house feeling as if he
was
being packed off to jail. Perhaps next time Fran came she would bring him one of her cakes. He didn’t care how dreadful it was, just as long as it had a file in it.
CHAPTER 51
Pulling back the curtains on Sunday, Tom saw the rain and knew that things were going to get rough. Rainy days and an active five-year-old were enough to test even the most patient parent.
He had no hope that today would be as ‘successful’ as yesterday.
Saturday morning had been particularly good, largely because Steph spent the morning in bed, suffering with her neck, but when he’d suggested that he take Hattie out so that she could continue to sleep in the afternoon, she made another miraculous recovery. Within minutes, she had appeared in the kitchen, ready to go. He had looked at her white trousers and slate-grey cashmere jumper and decided on a farm tour.
Apart from a little pull down of her mouth when they arrived and she’d had to walk over the mud and straw, Steph had powered up her mothering act. She agreed with a dad in the hen barn that it was indeed hard to get
your children to eat eggs and chatted with another mother about how important it was for every child – a sweep of her arm to gather up Hattie – to be out in the fresh air.
Hattie had responded to all this by walking between them, catching hold of their hands and asking to be swung back and forth.
‘This is lovely, isn’t it?’ Steph had said. ‘Just the three of us.’
Unable to face the prospect of a cosy evening in, he’d driven on to Newcastle for pizza. Steph had assumed her natural place in the spotlight, charming the waiters with exactly the right degree of mummy flirt and trying to charm him too. Her enthusiasm as she helped Hattie with the wax crayons and colouring pad the restaurant provided was something to behold.
But the day had not all been Steph’s. When Tom had gone to bed, his mobile had rung and it was Fran. After listening politely to his tale of woe, she’d said, ‘Well that’s all very fascinating, Tom, but I’ve been doing some research into telephone sex, and I’m sitting here in only a very small pair of black satin panties and wondered what you thought about that?’
He had thought:
Way hey, let’s bloody go for it
.
As he watched the rain slashing down, Tom tried to dig
back into that lovely memory, but he could already sense trouble brewing in the kitchen.
Hattie was asking if she could have pancakes again and Steph told her that she needed to get the Sunday newspapers first.
‘It’s a long walk in the rain,’ Tom said and, in response, Steph tossed her keys up and down in her hand and said she’d just found them.
‘Where were they, Mummy?’ Hattie asked and got told, sharply, to be quiet.
‘I’m sorry,’ Hattie said, her lip looking a bit wobbly, and Tom put his hand on her shoulder and said to Steph, ‘It was a perfectly reasonable question.’
He saw Steph’s urge to snap something at him, but she reined herself back. ‘Yes, Mummy’s sorry, Hattie darling. She didn’t sleep very well. She’s the one who’s a bit growly this morning. Why don’t you lay the table while I’m out and we’ll have those pancakes as soon as I get back?’
Hattie set to with a will and they put a tablecloth on and used the better china and sat and waited for Steph to return. And waited. The nearest paper shop was a ten-minute drive there and back. After half an hour, the sight of Hattie repeatedly going to the window to check for Steph’s car sent Tom to the frying pan and he started making the pancakes himself.
‘Do you think Mummy’s all right?’ Hattie asked as she watched him and he said she’d bumped into someone and got chatting. So much for not doing Steph’s PR any more.
When Steph did return, an hour and a half after she’d left, Hattie was hunkered down on his lap. He was trying to read to her, but her misery kept making him lose the thread.
‘Oh well done, you’ve had the pancakes,’ Steph said, looking at the dirty frying pan. ‘I was desperate for a coffee after the night I had. Naughty Mummy had an almond croissant too. Here, Hattie, look, I bought you some comics.’
As if she sensed that Tom was going to have a go at her, she added, ‘Come on, Hattie. Sit with me and I can read my newspapers and you can read your comics. Girls together.’
Hattie was like a little wave throwing itself against a rock, working extra hard to engage Steph and chat. Steph kept saying ‘Lovely’ and ‘Excellent’ while rarely taking her eyes from the Lifestyle sections.
By evening, Steph’s neck was hurting too much to do bath-time and de-lousing, and as Tom watched Hattie splashing about half-heartedly, he knew she would be thinking this was her fault. It had to stop. He had to have the argument he should have had on the first day – Hattie was upset now anyway, how much worse could it get?
Just as he was wrapping Hattie in a towel, Steph wrong-footed
him again. ‘OK,’ she said enthusiastically, ‘who’s for loads and loads of stories?’
Off Hattie trotted, in heaven once more.
*
Downstairs, Tom opened a bottle of wine and drank a glass straight off as he was ironing the school uniform.
‘Good idea,’ Steph said as she came back down and poured herself a glass.
When he went to say goodnight to Hattie, she was smiling.
‘What are you looking so happy about?’ he said.
‘It’s a secret.’ She put her finger to her lips and the smile grew even wider under it. He could get no sense from her.
In the sitting room, Steph was sitting on the sofa checking her phone when he walked in. He saw she’d brought the wine bottle and the glasses in from the kitchen.
‘Why’s Hattie so happy?’ he asked, sitting down in the armchair furthest away from her.
She put her phone back in her bag. ‘You’ve made this really nice in here, Tom. English cosy. God, do you remember that first flat we had in Barnes? That carpet!’
He drank some more wine. ‘I’m presuming you haven’t told her about leaving on Tuesday, then?’
Steph smiled. ‘We had to take it up in the end, didn’t
we, that carpet? Smelled of cat’s pee. Nice little flat though, Tom. Often think about it. We could lie in bed and only see tree tops.’ She smiled at him, all the power of her charm in that smile. ‘Happy days, Tom.’
‘When are you going to tell her?’
Steph finished off the wine. ‘Tell her what?’
‘That you’re going on Tuesday.’
‘I have told her.’
He put his glass down. ‘Steph, what have you done?’
‘I told her I’m going, but that I’ll be back. I’m planning to move here. That’s why I was really so long this morning – I was looking in estate agents’ windows.’
‘You’ve told her what?’ he said slowly, hearing the tremor in his voice.
‘That I’m moving here.’ Steph’s smile was chilling. ‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about since I arrived. I’d forgotten how lovely it is in this part of the world.’
That might have been believable if she hadn’t repeatedly told him how ‘dull’ she found the place. But she was getting into her stride.
‘I could be based anywhere near a good airport, so why not here? I don’t want to miss any more of Hattie growing up, Tom.’
‘Steph, this is a fairy story,’ he said, sharply, thinking of Hattie upstairs, blissfully happy.
‘No, it’s the truth. I’ve left you with all the hard work and it’s time to take some responsibility now.’ There was a self-deprecating laugh. ‘I know I don’t often show it, but I think you’re a wonderful father.’
He felt as if he was being caught in a sticky web.
‘I’m not saying that I expect any reconciliation.’ Her hands came up as if that was a definite. ‘But as you said on the telephone, the divorce will happen of its own accord soon, and in the meantime there’s no reason why we can’t be amicable for Hattie’s sake.’
She gave him a look that before would have had him on his knees in front of her. She did sincerity so well. Sometimes she even meant it.
‘Steph,’ he said, finding it hard not to shout that word, ‘you can’t tell Hattie you’re moving up here when you have no intention of doing it. And what about Alessandro? Is he going to move here, too?’
‘But I do intend to move here, Tom.’
It was as if anything he said was just bouncing off her. He got up and closed the door. ‘This fantasy of being more involved with Hattie? You want to think back to when you were completely involved with her?’
‘I was younger then,’ she said, quickly. ‘Hattie was younger. I’ve really enjoyed this visit—’
‘Being here for a few days is not the same.’ He felt his
temper start to flare. ‘You have to put her first when you’re tired, when you’re irritated, even when you’re ill. I don’t see any evidence of you committing to any of that, even in the short time you’ve been here. Are you really telling me you’d change? Give up the parties and the late nights, your friends, taking off at the drop of a hat when a good job crops up?’
‘You used to enjoy that life, Tom.’
‘Yes. But my priorities changed when Hattie came along. Yours didn’t seem to.’
‘That’s not kind, Tom.’ Steph pouted and these days it just looked ridiculous to him.
‘What’s this really about?’ he asked.
‘Why do you think I always have an angle?’
He sat down again and found himself dramatically rubbing his forehead with the palm of his hand, feeling as if he couldn’t think straight. He tried to be calm but firm.
‘Steph, please see sense. Be honest about what kind of relationship you want with Hattie. If all you can offer is to see her now and again, that’s fine, but stick to what you promise. And don’t tell me you want more responsibility for her, because I don’t think you’re capable of handling it.’
Here were the tears. ‘I just made a few mistakes, Tom.’
‘You’re not listening to me, Steph. You lose interest in her
after a while. Or, because she’s not exactly as you want her to be, all ribbons and dimples, you try to change her. When it doesn’t work, she irritates you. Then you get angry.’
‘I was under a lot of stress at work, Tom.’
‘And I wasn’t?’ he shot back.
‘You can’t judge me on that. It’s not fair,’ she said, sulkily. ‘Things are different now. I want to be a proper mother to Hattie.’
She could lie so well it made you forget what the truth was. Did she actually believe this stuff herself?
‘We’ve been through this,’ he said, ‘so many times. She just gets too much for you.’
She turned away from him and the curves and lines of her face still had the power to move him. But what he felt now was pity, not love.
‘It’s not your fault, Steph,’ he said. ‘But lying about it
is
. Just be honest. Let’s bring an end to all this bloody acting.’
She was still turned away.
He waited for her to say something and when she didn’t, he stood up, suddenly too weary to keep going. ‘I’ve got work tomorrow. Sleep on it, Steph, then we’ll have to think about how the hell to unpick what you’ve said to Hattie.’
*
Another night where it took him ages to get to sleep, his shoulder painful and his mind refusing to switch off. And
then he was woken up by Hattie again, slipping into bed with him.
‘What’s up?’ he mumbled and she put her hand on his arm and he was wide awake. It was a grown-up’s hand.
‘Tom,’ Steph said. ‘We’re still good together.’
In the light from the landing, he could see the gloss of her hair and her breasts and he thought of all those times with her. Different hotels, different beds.
The smell of her.
A body he knew so well inside and out.
Her mouth was on his and it would have been so easy to just go under and drown, but he was struggling up into the air, rolling to the other side of the bed.
He didn’t want to be a slave to all that again – a bit player in the Steph show. He wanted Fran.
He stumbled to Hattie’s room and stayed there a long time, staring at the baby monitor.
When he went back to his own bed, Steph was no longer in it.
CHAPTER 52
Sunday 22 June
Another mishmash of what I’ve learned, I’m afraid.
1) Baby monitors are rubbish. If they were really useful they’d work over longer distances. Then I could just put one in Tom’s house and one in mine and hear what’s going on. Although, now I think about it, that’s probably called bugging not monitoring.
2) When you hear that the man you love has been in an accident you worry. And it seems such bad luck – he is already being held hostage.
3) A woman can click her fingers at a child and make you instantly want to stop being reasonable and adult.
4) Tom should spill the beans and share the load – if that’s not too much of a mixed metaphor. Whatever he’s afraid of, it cannot be as bad as the torture he is enduring now – trying to please a tiger.
5) As regards point 4, I do not know if that is exactly the situation, but I have learned that secrets are corrosive. And they do have a habit of turning round and biting you on the bottom.
6) Telephone sex is much to be recommended, although it would be easier if I could work out how to use the speakerphone on my mobile and therefore be able to operate hands-free, as it were.
7) I am becoming wanton. Fran Mayhew, a while ago, would never have written point 6.
8) Steph has very small eyes. I am just picking on them as everything else about her is damn near perfect. Except her personality.
9) Hedgehogs are harder than they look. By that I don’t mean they turn up at your back door demanding money with menaces. What I mean is that creating a realistic set of spines that don’t look like