The Stepmother (18 page)

“You refuse to see what's at the end of your nose,” I said.

“And you refuse not to.”

“What does that mean?”

“That everything is fine. Why are you looking for drama? The expression ‘mountains out of molehills' springs to mind.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped thinking of your children's emotional welfare as molehills, we'd be able to talk about this rationally. They're not happy about this and you don't want to see it.”

“Don't tell me my children aren't happy.”

“Selective hearing. I didn't say they weren't happy.”

“What did you say, then?”

“Oh, forget it. I'm going home.” I opened the car door.

“Very good, Tessa. Run away. Seems to work wonders for you.”

I turned to him, but he stared straight ahead, so I had no option but to get out. Well, maybe I did, but it didn't feel like that at the time. James pulled out of the parking space before I'd had a chance to let go of the handle, and it shot out of my hand, pulling my little finger painfully.

“Ow,” I said, staring after the taillights. “Ow,” I said again. Because I hurt.

 

W
HEN
I
FINALLY WALKED INTO
my apartment, I was exhausted. I retrieved a bottle of wine from the rack, opened it, and poured a huge glass of red wine. The whole flat was cold. Unlived-in. Dusty. This was my home and it felt as empty as I did. But the home I wanted did not want me.

I threw the thermostat up and curled into a ball on my sofa. A tear fell onto my lap. I wiped away its successor angrily. At thirty-eight, with no children of my own, I found myself in no-man's-land. Worse, it wasn't no-man's-land. It was Bea's. I was the unwelcome trespasser. She was their mother. They were her children. She held the one card the dealer could never pass to me. DNA. The winning card. So where did that leave me? The underdog. What sort of life was that? Another tear fell, then another. Bea Kent? Bea Kent? I poured myself more wine and let the tears spill out of me. Who the hell was this superwoman, Bea Kent?

“T
HEY'VE GONE
, M
UM
,”
SAID
A
MBER
.

“Hm?”

She folded her arms in front of her chest, reminding me of myself. “I said they've gone.”

I restacked the vertebrae in my spine. “Sorry. Who's on the phone?”

“It was a wrong number,” said Amber, not quite looking at me.

“Right, you lot, coats off. I expect you're starving.”

“We went to Pizza Express,” said Lulu.

“All of you?”

“Tessa likes the ones with raisins,” said Lulu. “She said I could have an orange dress.”

“No, she didn't,” said Amber.

I herded my daughters out of the hallway. “That's nice. So, how was the weekend?”

“Great,” said Lulu. “Tessa and I have invented a new game.”

“That's nice. Maddy, stop scuffing your shoes. What's wrong with you?”

“I want a pink one.”

“A pink what?”

“And she's taking us to a concert!” said Lulu, interrupting.

“A what?”

“A pink bridesmaid's dress. I don't like orange and Daddy said we had to match. Is that all right, Mummy? If I have a pink one. With lots of skirts like a fairy. Daddy says Tessa will look like an angel, so can I be a fairy? A pink one?”

“What are you going to wear, Mummy?”

I looked at my daughters. “Um…Um…”

“Any messages, Mum?” Amber asked brightly.

I sought her out like a rescue beacon. “Yes. Keira called, and a boy. He didn't leave his name.”

“Keira. Can I call her now? We're planning the end-of-term show together. We've got lots of ideas.”

“Great, okay, good. Right. Let's look at this.” I unzipped the bag that took my children away from me in one order and brought them back in another. But for once the uniforms were not bundled in but folded neatly in piles. I inhaled the sweet, thick smell of detergent. “Wow, Dad's done the washing again.”

Lulu opened her mouth to answer, but Amber, I noticed, gave her a little push. “You farted!” said Amber.

Lulu looked hurt. “Didn't.”

“What's that smell, then?”

“Mum, I didn't.”

“It doesn't matter,” I said to Lulu.

“But I didn't!” she shouted.

I could see where this was going.

“Mummy, she didn't,” said Maddy. “Amber just made that up.”

“Why would I do that?” yelled Amber, and stormed off.

I didn't get her back to apologize, because I knew exactly why she would do that. “I think everyone's a bit tired. Shall we all go upstairs? Is there any homework to do?”

My sweet younger daughters shook their heads. God, it was great to have them home. “Lulu, what about reading?”

“Done it.”

“Really?”

Lulu nodded. Maddy did, too, so I knew it was true. Maddy hasn't learned how to lie yet. She isn't anything like a typical youngest—I took a sharp breath.

“You okay, Mummy?” asked Lulu.

I rubbed my chest where the pain had been. “Just a little indigestion. So, no homework to do, no reading. Let's go upstairs, have a big bath, and we'll have lots of time for stories in my bed.”

The girls shouted gleefully and tore up the stairs. No frantic supper to prepare, no homework to rush, no simple yet mystifying words to extract from Lulu…so why didn't I feel relieved? Any normal person would. It meant the last hour of the day with my children would be fun and not the battleground it had historically been after an overstimulated, oversugared, underdisciplined weekend with their father.

I stared down at the pristinely ironed shirts and gave the bag a stupid little kick. I knew, of course, that Jimmy hadn't done any of it. That sort of thing just wasn't his forte. Which left only one person. Tessa King. I bet she'd done the bloody reading, too. Tough. I wasn't ready to be grateful yet. So Jimmy had found himself a nice au pair to do the dirty work. Stupid man! I would have done it. I would have done it all. I looked back at the door, half-expecting her still to be standing there, a patronizing smile on her face, her arms around my children. “Hey, Bea, just bringing the kids home. Yes, we had a
great
time! They're fabulous children…”

Yes, they are fabulous! I wanted to shout. Fabulous, because I have given them my life! My soul! My energy! My wisdom! My whole! And in return I get you! The image of her was fuzzy around the edges. I'd only caught her profile coming out of the car. Big nose, I thought. Then Amber had called me in and it had seemed easier to retreat.

I hurled the bag over my shoulder and followed my children upstairs. Amber's door was closed. I knew better than to open it. I could hear the bloody Dumbbells playing, some ghastly song about getting felt up. The younger ones were already running around naked when I got to their room. Delighting in being back among their belongings. I had been to James's flat and it always felt like what it was to me and the girls. A temporary solution. Transient. A place where roots were
tubbed, ready for easy removal. They had things there—but old things they no longer played with. Or things they would come to in the future, but the future was as unimaginable as a sky with no end and, like all things we don't understand, they were cast aside.

This was home. I had worked hard to make it so. And I could tell by the scrabble of bare feet on bare boards that they were happy to be here. And I was happy to have them home. And yet, and yet…

I used to dream of peace and quiet when I was married. I hated it now. I guess I had lived in the asylum too long. Open spaces and days that didn't move at the pace of a machine gun freaked me out. On my weekends without the kids I would walk around in circles waiting to be asked to fetch something, mend something, stick something, hold something, wipe something, be something. Then stop. And realize nobody was asking anything of me and I was nobody without them. I didn't need less time with them, I needed more. I needed them constantly. What would happen to me when Maddy reached Amber's age? Would she close the door on me, too?

A small hole opened in my stomach. It stayed with me through bath time and the constant chatter about bridesmaids' dresses. Through three stories. Through the chat I tried to have with my unresponsive eldest. It stayed with me as I walked along the corridor of a hushed household and down the creaking stairs. It stayed with me while I searched the house for things to pick up and put away and it stayed with me when I realized there were none. There was a hole. And I would have to dam it or risk losing what little there was left of me. I opened the fridge.

 

“T
HANK
G
OD YOU'RE THERE
!” I said to Faith. “I've been calling and calling.”

“Sorry, what's wrong?”

“Where've you been?”

“The cinema.”

“What about Charlie?”

“He's asleep.”

“Who was looking after him?”

“Bea, did you call late on Sunday night to discuss my child-care arrangements?”

“No. Sorry.”

“The babysitter doesn't answer the landline.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Happy now?”

I paused.

“Bea, what is it?”

I put my throbbing head into my hands. Maybe this call wasn't such a good idea after all.

“I'm sorry I didn't call you about the lunch.”

I looked up through my fingers. “Lunch?”

“The official introduction.”

“Introduction?”

“Bea, are you drunk?”

“I wish.” I flustered and forced myself to sit up straight. “I'm on this ridiculous diet, couldn't risk the calories. What official introduction?”

“Tessa came to Peter and Honor's for lunch. The whole family was there.”

If Faith realized her mistake, she didn't comment on it. Whole family but me, I wanted to say. Whole family but me! “I didn't know about it,” I said faintly, picking up my glass.

“The girls must have told you.”

“No. They didn't.”

“That's weird,” said Faith. “Are you sure you're okay, Bea? You sound a little—”

“Weary. Went out last night with some friends. Got a bit late.”

“Bea! That's great.”

Yeah. It was also a lie. I needed another drink.

“Meet anyone?”

“No one I'd see again,” I replied. That would have been hard, since I was on the sofa alone for the duration of the night. “So how did it go, the grand lunch?”

“She did okay,” said Faith.

Trying to be diplomatic but not nearly hard enough, in my opinion. My idea of diplomatic was trashing Tessa to the hilt. Anything else would incur my wrath and border skirmishes were bound to follow. I
finished my glass of wine and poured again. But not yet. I needed Faith for information. “Okay, you say?”

“She was nervous, poor thing. Wearing these terrible shoes, which made her look like a matron. But she's bright, I'll give her that.”

Intelligent. Interesting. Diverting, I bet. Full of witty anecdotes and up to date with the news. It's okay for some. I don't have time for newspapers.

“You still there?”

“Yes.”

“There was the excruciating moment when Charlie asked to see her heart,” said Faith, giggling despite herself.

“Her what?”

“Oh. Um. Nothing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The girls didn't tell you?”

No, they didn't tell me about that either. “Oh…yes…the heart. Of course. How could I forget?” I forced a laugh, wondering what I was supposed to be laughing about. “Excruciating is the word.”

“I mean honestly! Heart-shaped pubes…doing a striptease. It's a bit over the top, isn't it?”

I retched, then swallowed hard.

“At least she had the decency to be embarrassed,” Faith continued.

Decency! Heart-shaped pubes. Striptease. I retched again. Didn't sound decent. Nothing the woman did sounded decent. Bribing my children with fairy dresses. Concert tickets. Lip gloss! Did she think I was stupid?

“You okay, Bea?”

“Trying not to laugh,” I managed.

“I actually felt a bit sorry for her.”

“Well, don't. She just turned up here!”

“What? Why? Did you talk to her?”

“No.”

“You didn't let her in?”

“No. She was in the car with Jimmy.”

“Sorry. I don't follow. Why did they come over so late?”

“This was earlier,” I said, my temper rising. Why was Faith being so obtuse? So slow?

“Oh,” said my ex-sister-in-law. “So she didn't come alone to see you just now?”

“No. She was in the car with Jimmy.”

“Yes, you said that…but…Oh, okay. You mean when he dropped the girls home?”

Obviously that was what I'd meant. Wasn't that bad enough? And what did “Oh, okay” mean? She had come to my house, with no warning, brazen as you like, as if it were perfectly normal for my husband and another woman to be dropping my children home! And another thing. She hadn't even bothered to say hello or anything…

“Bea, you still there?”

“Hm?”

“Bea. Are you okay? You sound really pissed off.”

“I'm not pissed off, I'm just…” I stared at the near-empty bottle in front of me. “I'm tired.”

“It's just, well, at Luke's fortieth you said—”

I sat up. Alert. Tuned to the danger. “A moment of madness,” I said emphatically. “That's all.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Because Lucy noticed you were wearing your engagement ring.”

“It's the only decent piece of jewelry I have.” Annoying, irritating, meddling, know-it-all, hippie-shit Lucy. What did she know about responsibility? Duty to care? Guilt?

“That's what I said. But I'd understand, you know, if, well, if you'd thought you'd made a mistake. You don't have to go through this alone.”

“Honestly. It was nothing. We'd been getting on so well recently that I allowed myself to forget everything that had happened. I absolutely don't feel like…No, no. The whole family night went to my head for a second. It's hard when I see him and the girls having such a great time together. Dancing together like a family. As it should be.”

“Are you sure—”

“It's fine, Faith. I didn't mean it. You didn't tell anyone, did you?”

“No! I've been feeling terrible about it. I said those things to you about Jimmy always loving you. I had no idea about Tessa—'course, it
makes sense now. That's why he's been so much more relaxed with you. So much happier. He's finally over you. We've got Jimmy back. Sorry, that sounds very harsh, but—”

“Harsh?” I laughed again. Daggers. Hideous, jagged, cold, hot daggers. Stabbing. Stabbing. Stabbing. Not deep enough to kill but, God almighty, it hurt and the blood—there wasn't supposed to be that much blood. They said they'd got it all out. They lied.

“No, not harsh. Fair,” I said, forcing myself to speak. “I left him. I…” Did so much worse than that. I fucked everything up. But I wasn't myself. Couldn't they see? Love is a strange thing. He had so much. It overwhelmed me. I'd never been loved like that. Not even by my mother. I had trained myself to become lovable. I had worked out how to make a man fall in love with me. It wasn't hard. Men were easy. Mothers were harder to crack. But I couldn't return it. I couldn't live up to it. I couldn't love him back. It wasn't my fault—

“Bea?”

“Hi.”

“You using your bloody mobile again?”

“Sorry.”

“You keep cutting out on me.”

“Sorry.”

“Call me from the landline. You'll give yourself a tumor.”

“Chance would be a fine thing.”

“What?”

“Can't find the damn thing.”