The Stepmother (17 page)

“Hi,” she said.

One word was all it took. The invisible punch hit him hard. His jaw went slack, a million wet dreams were posted for future use in his mind, and the boy was down. My mute stepdaughter-to-be then decided to reclaim her voice from the evil underwater witch Ursula (I've been watching too many children's DVDs) and charm the pants off my moonstruck godson. Literally, as it turned out. Didn't take her long, either.

I retreated to the kitchen to put on another load of washing not my own, and watch them through the kitchen window while they sat
and chatted on the swing in the garden. Caspar had grown a lot in the previous year. He no longer had the pasty skin of a cave dweller, his spots had cleared up, and he'd found some miracle product to tame his unruly curls. With his low-slung jeans and Quiksilver T-shirt (which I had bought him as a bribe to persuade him to come today), he looked cool. If I carried on hemorrhaging money like this, I was going to have to get a second job.

Amber kept throwing back her flaming mane and laughing loudly. All I could think was that she'd catch her death of cold. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant thought. I thrust yet more school kit into the washing machine and tried to banish it. But then Amber put her hand on his leg, so I threw in the rest of the washing, turned it on, and crawled along the kitchen floor to get a better look. They got off the swing and went to the back of the garden, where the undergrowth had taken over and borage ruled king. Somewhere in the weeds a hydrangea was fighting a losing battle. I saw Amber grab Caspar and pull him behind the garden shed. Fags, was my first thought. If only, my last.

I heard James's key in the door, and as the voices of the younger two carried through the Victorian colored glass, I had no choice but to get up.

“Hello, we're home!” called James. Lulu ran toward me to show me her stickers, then told me in great detail about the grazing habits of a steliosaurus. Maddy gave me a hug. James strode in carrying an overflowing box of groceries.

“Who's that boy I saw dart behind the shed?”

“That boy is my godson, Caspar.”

“He isn't getting stoned, is he?”

“I told you, he doesn't do that anymore.” But I heard the fear in my voice and went to the window. I saw no roach, but what I did see was a pair of Jimmy Choo shoes tangled with Caspar's Converse sneakers.

My shoes! was my first thought. My second was, What the hell is Amber doing with Caspar? My third blanked out all others. A firework of expletives exploded inside my head. I swung around to see James lowering the box onto the kitchen table. Calculating that I had about two seconds before James saw them, I yanked up the window and yelled, “Amber! Your dad's home!”

I saw her feet in my shoes retreat; Caspar stumbled forward, with swollen lips, and turned to the house.

“Is he stepping on the hydrangea?” James had spotted them.

I turned him away from the window. I knew who would be blamed for this. Me. For having a godson. “'Course not. Why don't you sit down? I'll make you a cup of tea.”

Obediently, James sat. “Thanks, I'm exhausted.” What had exhausted him was picking up two children from two separate parties and one box of preordered fruit and veg from the local shop. “Have you had a nice quiet couple of hours?” he asked. Yes, very, I thought, because, just like in fairy tales, the washing-up does itself and teenagers don't have sex.

Amber and Caspar walked in through the kitchen door. She was wearing Ugg boots again. What had she done with my shoes? I folded my arms, narrowed my eyes, and stared at Caspar.

“Dad, can Caspar and me go to Starbucks?” asked Amber. “Keira and Freddy are meeting us there.”

“Sure, sweetheart. Do you need some money?”

“Thanks, Dad.” She kissed his cheek. Daring, I thought, given where that mouth had been.

He handed her a twenty. No wonder James doesn't pay the school fees, I thought. He's single-handedly keeping Mr. Starbucks afloat. Caspar drifted out after her, dreamily.

You fool, I thought, you poor, deluded fool. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that James was wearing a similar expression. The bloody pair of you. Amber gave me one of her dazzling smiles. “'Bye, Tessa.”

I was speechless. Now who was brazen?

“Have fun,” James called after them.

I didn't trust myself to speak.

James turned to me. “See?” he said. “I told you, you were imagining things. Amber adores you.”

God, give me strength.

 

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY
, J
AMES PROPOSED
a walk in the park. I would have legged it, but I had nowhere to run, so I submitted to the tedious inevitability of tired legs, cold hands, spilled drinks, and moaning. It all
came to pass. Family walks. What fun. However, I did manage to engineer time alone with Amber. We left the other three in the playground and walked up the hill to the coffee shop.

“So, what did you think of Caspar?”

She didn't bother to look at me. “He's a bit of a creep.”

“What?”

“A drip, then. Couldn't get rid of him.”

I was momentarily struck dumb. I tried to read her expression, but she was hiding behind her hair. “Looked to me like you quite liked him.”

“What gave you that impression?” she snarled.

Well, I don't know! What about the make-out session five seconds after you'd met him? She shouldn't be that loose at any age, let alone fourteen. “I saw you, Amber,” I said softly.

“Saw what?”

“You, Caspar, my shoes, the hydrangea bed?”

“What's a hydrangea?”

“Okay, the weeds your dad calls a back garden.”

“Dad loves that garden. I'll tell him you don't like it.”

Tough words, but she looked scared. I tried to reach out to her. “I'm not going to tell him, Amber.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I saw my shoes,” I said sternly.

She shrugged, but I detected a waver as she lowered her eyes.

“Once you've got a reputation, it's hard to shake. Mud sticks, Amber.”

That was a mistake. She glared at me. “You can talk!” Her face seemed about to crumple. “I saw what you were doing! If that's what Dad likes, well, he's welcome to you.”

She ran back to the playground. I felt terrible and walked on alone to the coffee shop. I didn't care about the shoes anymore, and my delight in having ammunition to aim at Amber seemed infantile. I kept seeing her beautiful face crumple and hearing those angry words.

Back at the flat, I remembered the washing still festering in the machine from the day before and returned to the kitchen to finish my stepmother duties. Thankfully, I was alone when I pulled out the tangled mat of underclothes. Everything was mauve.

“Shit,” I whispered furiously to myself, hoping I wasn't seeing what I clearly was. Everything had been dyed purple. I separated tights from leotards, tank tops from pants and my new dark blue Seven jeans. How had they got in there?

“Bollocks.” The ballet kit was ruined. Think, girl, think. It was okay. One call to my friend Francesca, mother of Caspar and two younger girls, and I would know where to go. Ballet was…I racked my brain—well, it wasn't Monday, so that was fine. I heard voices, shoved everything into the laundry basket, and covered it. Then, like a Stepford wife, I set up the ironing board and got to work on the wash I hadn't ruined. In a quiet moment, I stashed the wet ballet kit into a plastic bag and threw it into the boot of my car. Guilt-ridden, I went through Maddy and Lulu's satchels, helped them do their homework, then got them into the car to be returned, in full working order, to their magnificent mother. I bet she'd never tie-dyed a leotard.

“Come on, Tessa, we're going for pizza on the way.”

“I'm fine, thanks. I need to get stuff ready for work.”

“Oh, come on, it won't be fun without you.” James was being lovely but, my God, he hadn't seen Amber's face. And how could I say no after Maddy took my hand and said please? I couldn't.

So, to the dreaded Pizza Express we went with the rest of the world's offspring. One good thing: my body clock seemed to have ground to a halt. I operated on automatic pilot through supper, slicing pizza, mopping up drinks, avoiding Amber's sharp elbows, and got back into the car relieved. I must have been in a daze, because I didn't realize that instead of heading home, we turned east toward Holloway. I was lulling in neutral and missed the cinema, the high street, the superstore, and the railway bridge.

Suddenly we stopped and I came around. “Where are we?”

“Just dropping the girls off,” said James.

“What?”

“Bea's house,” he said, pointing.

“But—”

“Don't worry, I put all the school uniforms you'd ironed into their bags. We've got everything.”

I didn't care. I had tomato sauce on the T-shirt I'd been wearing for
two days because I hadn't had time to do any washing of my own, and my hair was filthy. I mouthed the next few words: “I. Don't. Think. This. Is. A. Good. Idea.”

“Nonsense. You're part of the family now.”

Ssh! You'll wake the beast. I turned to the girls. My future stepdaughters. Bea's daughters. Amber glared at me. I forced myself to smile. “Thanks for a great weekend, girls. See you Wednesday.”

Lulu and Maddy smiled back. Amber got out of the car and said, “Come on, you two. Hurry up. Daddy has to go now.”

Lulu and Maddy stopped smiling.

“Say good-bye to Tessa,” said James. If he had been speaking to Amber, which I doubted, she ignored him and he let it pass. Lulu gave me a quick hug.

Maddy was fussing with her seat belt. I leaned into the back to give her a hand. “Let me help you, honey,” I said, unclicking it.

As the seat belt sprang back, Maddy threw herself forward between the seats. She took my face in her small hands. “Can I tell you a secret?” she said quietly, nose to nose.

“Of course you can.”

“I love you.”

I wanted to weep. “That doesn't have to be a secret,” I said, stroking her cheek.

But Maddy knew better than me. “Yes, it does.”

“Why?”

Just as she was about to tell me what I suspected I already knew, that Amber forbade it, James leaned back into the car. “Mum's here,” he said, and the moment was broken. Maddy was out of the car like a shot, running down the narrow path to the front door, where she threw herself into her mother's arms. In the moment before she was enveloped by her loving daughter, I saw her. The woman who had stood outside James's flat in tears the night Lulu was sick. I felt a gigantic invisible piece of the jigsaw puzzle land on my head. James was wrong. His ex-wife was nowhere near fine about this, and that explained everything. I looked again. At last. I'd found the solution. And the solution was Bea. Everyone was talking to her at once. She was smiling, managing to answer and listen at the same time. It was time to face this. It was time for her to face me.

“You not coming in?” said a voice that had to be Bea's.

“I think we're going to get off.”

I could taste the silence. We?
We?
She hadn't seen me in the passenger seat, because she wasn't expecting me to be there. Now I didn't know what to do. The car door was already open. I put a foot out and stood. The girls moved aside. Bea took a step back. My heart sank. I'd got it wrong. She wasn't the fat lady in tears. In fact, she looked lovely. Dressed up. Better than me. I knew I should be polite. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't even say hello. We stared at each other.

“Mum! Phone!”

“What?”

“Phone!” yelled Amber, pointing into the house.

Bea looked back at James. “Sorry, hon. Another time.”

Hon? By the time I'd straightened out, the front door had closed. Bea and the girls were gone. James shrugged, walked around the car, and got back in. I sat down.
Hon?
I wondered what term of endearment he called her when I wasn't about. Jimbean?

When I thought we were safely out of earshot and several more turns after that, I spoke.

“That was a bloody stupid thing to do,” I spat.

“What?”

“You can't throw us at each other like that!”

“I wasn't. I was dropping the girls home.”

“Not with me! It's not fair to them.”

James signaled and turned the wheel methodically through his fingers. Foolishly, I believed he was registering what I was saying. “Why not?” he asked. “It's what I do every other Sunday night I have them.”

“Not with me!”

“Why not with you? We're getting married, Tessa.”

I gulped. “They're not ready. Amber, none of them.”

“Really?” said James coldly.

“Yes, really.”

“They're not ready, or
you're
not ready?”

“All of us, James…” I faltered. “Maybe even Bea.”

“She looked fine to me.”

“Did she, now?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Tessa.”

“Christ, James, she's not your old mate from school who I just didn't quite meet. She's your ex-wife, who broke your heart, who dresses up on a Sunday night, who calls you honey—”

“Stop it.” James pulled in behind a parked car and stopped the car abruptly. “Stop it. Now. I'm just trying to make this all as normal as possible. For everybody. Why are you making it into a big deal?”

“You know what? Sometimes things are a big deal, James, whether you like it or not.”

He sighed heavily. As if he'd heard it all before. One justifiable complaint, and I was made to feel like a nag. “I'm sorry, am I boring you?” I asked.

James closed his eyes. “We just dropped off the kids. Bea seemed fine with it.”

And I'm not? Stupid, silly, overemotional me? Well, you haven't been used as a punching bag by a deceptively strong fourteen-year-old all weekend. You haven't dyed a ballet kit purple. Your family can't list pubic topiary as one of your hobbies. You're not a secret love. A second-bride-to-be. You're
hon
. I'm nobody.