The Stepmother (11 page)

“I'm not sure you'd look as good as she does in those leggings. They're great, by the way. Where did you get them?”

“Top Shop.”

Straight in with three of a kind! “Top Shop? You're kidding. I've just been given a gift certificate from there. I'm never going to use it.” I reached inside my bag, flicked past the Monsoon envelope, the Jigsaw,
Gap, and Next (I'd thought the latter unlikely, but I'd wanted to cover all bases), and brought out the Top Shop one.

Amber opened it. “Wow, fifty quid!”

“Is it? It was free. I never looked. Have it. I insist.”

“Are you sure?” asked James. “I thought you liked Top Shop.”

“I do. I love it. But I'm too busy to go in the week and too old to go on the weekend. Anyway, nothing I'd find there would look as good on me as it would on your daughter.”

Amber beamed. And, rather annoyingly, so did James. Divide and conquer. Divide and conquer. I dealt again. “We used their clothes for a photo shoot with the Bonne Belles—”

“The Bonne Belles! I love them!” Amber squealed, and I thought, Yes, she is fourteen, after all.

“You like the Bonne Belles?”

“Love, love, love them,” she said, then burst into song. “‘Smack ya tush back at ya!'”

“That's not bad, better than the Bonne Belles themselves.”

She shrugged shyly.

“Didn't I tell you Amber had an amazing voice?” said James.

“Oh, Daddy.”

Yes, several times, I thought coolly.

“Tessa works with those girls all the time,” said James.

“Wow! What do you do?”

“I'm a lawyer for a record company.”

“Cool.”

A straight flush fanned out before my eyes. “Would you like their new album?”

Amber looked at her father.

“As long as I don't have to listen to that rubbish.”

“It's not rubbish,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.

“Yeah, Dad, it's not rubbish. Anyway, it hasn't even come out yet.”

“I can get you a copy next week.”

“Really? That's fab!”

“I could probably get my hands on a few more, if you wanted some for your mates.”

“Yes, please!”

Make that a royal flush. Always important to leave them wanting more. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Maddy and Lulu had crept forward during this discussion and were now running in and out of our legs with Cora, playing some odd game where they pretended to be puppies. Plot, scheme, bribe, suck up, buy off, undermine the parent. I didn't know what Matt was talking about. I folded the cards. The table was mine.

I'
D HAD A MULTITUDE OF WEEKENDS WITH
J
AMES, AND AN EQUAL AMOUNT
without. What I'd never done before was share him. Two weeks after meeting Amber in the park, I faced the prospect of our first official sleepover. I'd grossly underestimated how hard that was going to be. I had naively assumed it would be much the same as our weekends together, but with the addition of the kids. Delusional is the word.

Like all good horror films, the weekend started normally enough. I'd had a busy time at work and it was after ten on Friday night when I finally arrived at James's flat. All was quiet. We shared a bottle of wine, ate a salad, and went to bed. Within seconds, James was asleep and I willed myself to follow suit. But I couldn't. I kept thinking about the three other bodies asleep nearby and found it unnerving. James had gone in to kiss his sleeping children good night, but I hadn't. It felt as if I was intruding. It reminded me of the night I had driven over there with a crazy lust in my pants, desperate for the feeling of James on top of me, in me, attacking him with an urgency that was really quite unbecoming.

I looked at him. Asleep. I knew that with one kiss my desire for him would flare up again, but that crazy lust? I couldn't imagine taking such a foolhardy risk now. The damage we would have caused if we'd been caught didn't bear thinking about. I turned to face the wall, my back to James. But that didn't feel very comfortable either. I molded myself to his body, put my arm over his waist, and waited for sleep.

Several long minutes later, I heard a door open and some feet pad along the corridor. The handle on our bedroom door slowly started to turn. I hid under the covers. This was when the film turned scary.

“Daddy,” came a whisper through the dark and duck down of the duvet.

James lay still, undisturbed.

“Daddy.”

I prodded his back.

“Herumph.”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

I was beginning to overheat. For God's sake, get the girl some water. I prodded James again. Actually, it was more like a stab.

“What?” He sat up.

“Can I have a glass of water?”

“Oh, Maddy, there's one by your bed.”

“No, there isn't. You always forget.”

I heard an irritable sigh escape James's lips. “No, I didn't. You just didn't look. As usual.” James threw back the cover. I withdrew into a tighter ball. He seemed to have forgotten I was there and padded out after his daughter. Next I saw a light go on, heard a tap being turned and a glass being filled. Maddy was right. He had forgotten the water. A few minutes later, he was back in bed and I was safely out in the open air.

“Everything all right?” I whispered.

“Fine,” James grunted, and fell straight back to sleep.

 

I
WORK HARD AND PLAY
hard. On weekends, I rest. I thought that was pretty normal. Respect the Sabbath and all that. So why was the light on when it was still dark outside? I squeezed my eyes shut and burrowed into the duvet. Where were my eye masks? Then I remembered. Eye masks had been surrendered in pursuit of sexiness. James didn't know
about my vast collection under the bed at my curtainless home. I was still missing a few of the Baltic republics, but I had most of the world's airlines covered. Anyone who traveled far afield would bring me back eye masks and ear plugs, and I revered them as if they'd picked up a pot of duty-free Crème de la Mer. James emerged from the bathroom—a shower behind a stud wall—in his dressing gown, looking, for once, his age. I peered at him through one eye.

“Ugh.”

“Morning, beautiful girl.”

“Ugh,” I said again.

James kissed my head, then walked out of the room. “Morning, girls!” he shouted.

“Morning, Daddy!” came the chorus.

“Are you coming in?”

Shit. Shit. I looked around in a panic and spotted an old T-shirt lying by the laundry basket. “James,” I hissed.

He put his head back around the door. I pointed at the T-shirt.

“That's filthy.”

“I don't care. Chuck it to me.”

“You look lovely as you are,” he said, laughing.

I gave him the finger.

“Charming.”

“Petrified!”

“They love you.”

“Not naked.”

“I love you naked.”

“You're a dirty old man,” I said, and flashed him.

James laughed. “Hard not to be, with you around.”

I had just pulled the T-shirt over my head when Maddy, the youngest and—not that I'm allowed to think such things—my favorite so far, came bounding into the room with Lulu. They leaped onto the bed.

“Okay,” said James. “What's it to be?”

“Marmite,” said Lulu.

“Jam,” said Maddy.

“Chocolate spread,” said Amber, from the doorway. She sauntered into the room and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Enter
the beast. In every scary movie a lurking presence taunts you from the shadows. You haven't seen it, but you know from the rustle in the fallen leaves and the snap of branches that it's never very far away. It is the beast that has you peering through your fingers, wanting it to come yet dreading its arrival. Amber was wearing one of her father's T-shirts too. And she looked good. Better than me. Please, I prayed silently, please, don't let me be jealous of a fourteen-year-old girl. My father had told me—along with things like life isn't fair—that there was no more wasted emotion than jealousy. I had carried that with me my entire life but, my God, I couldn't take my eyes off her legs. Grrrr.

“Right. And for you, my darling?”

The only person who didn't look toward James was me.

“Tessa?” asked James.

I noticed Amber's chin lift and I was reminded of Grace Kelly in
High Society.
She would be that beautiful. Lord, give me strength. “Sorry?”

“What do you want on your toast?” asked Maddy, climbing over the bed to sit next to me.

“Toast?”

“Daddy lets us have breakfast in bed at his house. He says he doesn't mind sleeping in our crumbs.”

“Maybe Tessa feels differently,” said Amber, sounding like my old headmistress.

“You sweet girl,” said James. “Always thinking about others.” Hmmm, thought I. Grrrrrr.

“Maybe she's like the princess and the pea, and the smallest crumb will make her black-and-blue,” said Maddy.

“Maybe she shouldn't sleep in Daddy's bed, then,” said Lulu.

Isn't it about time I was going?

“Nonsense. Tessa is staying right there. In fact”—Oh, no. He paused, looking at each of them in turn—“I've asked her to move in with us. What do you think, girls?”

Maddy and Lulu were smiling, but I realized they had no idea what they were smiling about or why.

James turned to Amber. As did her sisters.

“Have you told Mummy?” she asked.

“Yes,” said James.

“Hey, James,” I said, interrupting, “I was wondering whether I could take the girls to Cora's ninth birthday party.”

“You'd have to check with Mummy,” said Amber.

Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.
I hadn't expected the fourteen-year-old to be the Mummy's girl. “Of course,” I said.

“How many godchildren do you have?” she asked.

“Four,” I said proudly.

“Do people feel sorry for you because you've got no children?” said Lulu.

“Lulu!” said James.

“That's what Mum says,” explained Amber.

Okay. “Who are your godparents? Your mum and dad's greatest friends, I'm sure.”

The girls looked to James. Oh dear. Did godparents get divided up too? “We didn't pick very well,” said James. “We don't see them much.”

Right. Okay. “Why don't I go and make that toast?” I said, moving to the edge of the bed, then realized I couldn't. The T-shirt wasn't that long and it was bunched up around my waist. “James, could you pass me a dressing gown?” I asked, trying to sound calm and nonchalant and not as if a boa constrictor had me around the gullet. He peeled off his and threw it to me. I did the best I could at putting it on and pulling it down as I stood up, but I was pretty sure the girls got a flash of buttock cheeks, because Lulu sniggered.

Feeling more aware of myself than I had at my first disco, I walked out of the bedroom. Marmite, jam, and chocolate spread. Marmite, jam, and chocolate spread. If I kept thinking about condiments, I might be able to block out the small voice that was singing to me, in the evil whisper of Rumpelstiltskin, “Banish Cinders to the Hearth” from behind a large oval mirror. What was it with all these fairy-tale metaphors? One hour with the children and I was turning into the Brothers Grimm, hardly the kings of happy endings. Marmite, jam, and chocolate spread.

 

T
HE MORNING WAS SALVAGED BY
devotion to a James and the Giant Peach coloring book and endless rounds of Guess Who?—the game in which, by process of elimination, you work out what character the
other person has. This seemed to be Lulu's favorite thing to do, but I soon learned that her brain processed information differently from others. So when I said “No” to “Do they wear glasses?” she would put down all the characters who boasted twenty-twenty vision. This meant I kept winning, though I tried valiantly to lose. The sweet thing was that she didn't seem to mind. She just wanted to play again, and again, and again. I heard the door slam and was thankful that my replacement had returned from a rather long newsagent run with Amber.

“Sorry,” shouted James. “We stopped for coffee.” I assumed he meant he'd stopped to pick some up, and happily awaited mine.

“Again?” asked Lulu.

“Why don't we ask your daddy to play?”

Lulu didn't seem hopeful. James put his head around the door. “Everyone happy?”

“Great,” I said, trying to convey otherwise and desperate for caffeine. “It's your turn to play Guess Who?”

“Hang on,” said James. “Let me put the shopping away.” And he disappeared into the kitchen. Ten minutes later, no large latte with an extra shot and sugar had appeared and I could hear them still chatting. Which meant he'd stopped for coffee with Amber. Grrrrrrrrrr.

“Claire?” said Lulu.

I didn't have the heart to tell her I was looking at a boy. “Nearly,” I said. “Sally.”

“Oh, Sally. I like her. Again?”

Shoot me.

“James!”

No answer.

“What about something we can all play?” I said brightly.

Lulu looked at Maddy, then shook her head.

“Amber always cheats,” said Maddy, by way of explanation, returning to her coloring.

“What do you normally do on weekends?”

“With Mummy we do arts and crafts, or make cakes—”

“Or build time machines,” said Maddy, interrupting.

I was sorry I asked. “What about with Daddy?”

“We watch telly,” they said in unison.

Don't panic, I told myself. I had saved a few tricks up my sleeve. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to bring a canary out of my arse, because I heard the front door slam again. “James?” I called, panic rising.

There was no answer. I got up and went to the kitchen. The “shopping” was on the kitchen table. There was no sign of Amber or her father.

“James!” I called again, and peered into the downstairs loo. The girls stared at me from the sitting room as I walked back down the corridor. Maddy held up her coloring. I gave her a thumbs-up. Delighted, she started another. God bless the child…

I walked up the stairs and pushed open the bedroom door. He wasn't there. The other two were empty. What had I expected? To find James cross-legged in front of the dollhouse? I could feel myself getting disproportionately furious. He'd obviously forgotten something and nipped out. Again. But halfway down the stairs, I heard a grunt.

“James?”

“Up here,” called a voice.

He was in the loo? “I've been calling you.”

“Sorry. Didn't hear.”

Beyond comprehension. Impossible. This was a small flat. I could hear the next-door neighbor fart. “I think Amber went out,” I said.

“She's meeting some friends at Starbucks. I hope you don't mind but I had to raid your wallet. I gave my last cash to the pizza-delivery guy.”

“Oh.”

“It was only a tenner. I'll pay you back.”

“Doesn't matter,” I said. Though I was pretty sure I'd only had a twenty left in my wallet…“You ever coming out?”

“Sorry.” I heard the loo flush, then the door opened. He was holding a Lee Child novel. “Hi. Having fun down there?”

A Rolodex of pithy answers flicked through my mind, but I couldn't voice a single one without causing mortal offense. “Hi,” I said instead.

“Hi. So, what shall we do for the rest of the day?”

Another Rolodex appeared, but pithy answers were dangerous, and I knew it. “I guess we should think about lunch.”

“Already?”

Yes, already. Time flies when you're having fun.

“Great. I bought stuff for spag Bol. The girls love it.”

“This I'd like to see.” I'd never seen James cook. We went out. Or I cooked in my flat when he came over.

“My pièce de résistance,” said James.

“Meaning it's your only dish.”

“Does cheese on toast count?”

“No.”

“Then yes. But I boil a fine egg.”

“Anyone can put an egg into boiling water for four minutes.”

James walked up to me and put his arms around my waist. I felt the itch of anger fade.

“Ah, but mine are perfect. Not too hard, not too soft.”

“I should hope not too soft.”

“Never that.”

“No,” I said, lowering my hand to between his legs, “that doesn't seem to be your problem.” But your children are. I looked around. Who'd said that? James kissed my lips. “Let's go downstairs, see what the monkeys are up to, and I'll start cooking.”