The Stepmother (42 page)

Four cups of tea and a lot of chat later, I was exhausted. Our low-key, under-the-wire funeral service had not been as we'd imagined. People from the village kept dropping in with sandwiches, bottles of wine, flowers, and kind words, but now I just wanted to be alone. With my core family, which, weirdly, seemed to include Peter, Honor, Amber, Lulu, and Maddy.

Ben and Sasha left shortly after the last well-wisher. Funny how they knew when to arrive and when to leave me be. Mum took herself upstairs to lie on her bed alone. Fran took Caspar and the girls back to London. She was used to carting children around and didn't want Peter and Honor having to make the extra journey when she could easily drop the three of them off en route. There were no complaints from Amber and Caspar.

The girls kissed me good-bye and Amber gave me an audio book that Bea had especially wanted Mum to have. There was a card with Mum's name on it in her handwriting. It felt strange to hold it, and I wondered when I'd see her daughters again. I had got so close to them recently, but now had lost all rights to them. I found it nearly unbearable to wave good-bye. I was watching my future, with all its complications, drive away. I would have been a good stepmother. I'd never felt childless before, but I did right then. Peter and Honor, who had said nothing about James and Bea to me, asked if they could go upstairs to Mum's room and give her the audio book.

I found myself alone in the sitting room. For the first time since waking, I glanced at my watch. It was only four in the afternoon but it felt like midnight. Exhausted, I slumped into Dad's chair. I don't know how long I'd been sitting there when I heard a tap on the windowpane. It filtered through my semi-meditative state. I wanted to ignore it. We had no more room for flowers and I was all talked out. The tap came again. I forced myself to stand up and turned.

“James?”

He smiled through the glass.

I got up and went to open the front door. Another trick of my mind?

“Hello, Tessa,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I rested my head on the door frame. “Not now, James. It's been quite a day.”

“Please,” he held out his hand, “just for a moment.”

I stepped outside. The afternoon sun was still warm. I breathed in the clean air and felt a little revived. “You just missed the girls,” I said.

“I know. I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“Your parents are still here. It was nice of them to come.”

“I'm sorry I didn't.”

So am I. More than you will ever know. “It would have been difficult.”

We walked away from the house, down the lane, and left the village behind.

“I need to tell you what's happened.”

Wild daffodils sprang up along the verge. I hoped they'd give me courage. “Couldn't it have waited?”

“No,” said James.

We reached the stile that led to the bridle path. On automatic pilot, I climbed over it and jumped down into the field. The solid earth beneath my feet brought me back to my senses. I didn't want to walk the bridle path, high or low. It was too painful. James climbed over after me and started to walk. Then, realizing I was still leaning against the post, he came back. “I'm sorry I didn't make it to the funeral. I should have been there.”

“Where were you?” I asked, against my better judgment.

“With Bea.”

I wasn't sure how I was supposed to respond to that. It was too soon to be pleased for them. I wasn't superhuman.

“We had a lot to talk about.”

“Pity you couldn't have done that when you were married.” Then you wouldn't have been free to break my heart.

“You're right.”

Little joy in being right. Hadn't I been good enough? I'd sent him back to Bea, now I just wanted to be left alone.

“The drinking is only the latest manifestation of Bea's problems,” James said.

No shit, I thought. The extra sixty pounds didn't alert you to that?

“Booze replaced food, food replaced work…”

I was getting angry and, more than anything, upset. Hadn't I told him all this? Now was not the time to talk about Bea. I'd just cremated my father! I let you go. Don't ask me to make you feel better about which choice you've made. Not today, of all days.

“We shouldn't have let all our friends slip away. You need your mates when things get tough.”

Yes. And right now I needed mine. “I'm sorry, James, I need to go home.” I turned to climb back over the stile. James held my wrist.

“Wait.”

“No.”

“Please, Tessa. I'm not finished.” He ran his hand down my arm. I shuddered. I didn't want to hear what he had to say. I didn't want to know that he and Bea had a lot of ground to make up, that they had a marriage to reclaim and a family to put back together. I wanted to throw him onto the ground and make him mine again. Damn my treacherous libido. Damn my heart. I was good, but not that good. He held on to my hand. I looked at his strong fingers around mine and felt pain shoot through me.

“I love Bea—”

I pulled my hand away. “Please—” I begged, clambering up the stile. “I'm not as brave as you think. I mean, I am. But I'm not, too. God, I'm not making sense. I need to go before I do something I won't be proud of. I can't just switch this off—”

“I don't want you to switch anything off,” he said. “Let me finish.”

“But you love her.”

“Yes I do, but I'm not in love with her anymore.”

I stepped back onto the grass. “You're not?”

“No. I was. Deeply. And it took me a long time to get over her, but I managed it. I never ever want to go through that again.”

He was staring very intently at me. For a second there, I thought he might suggest a weird three-way thing between us all, but it was worse than that.

“Oh God, don't tell me, you need to be alone. You bloody wanker, fucking men, I don't know why I ever—”

“Tessa, be quiet.” He put his hand over my mouth. “I don't want to
be alone and I don't want to remarry Bea. I'm in love with you. I'm sure we'll make a thousand of our own mistakes, but I promise you, if you'll have me, I won't make the same mistakes again. Whether we have children or not.”

I pulled his hand away. “You want more children?”

“Only with you. And this time I'd get my hands very dirty.”

“Oh James—” I threw myself at him, but he held me away from him.

“Hang on.” James crouched down and put his knee on a highly potent spring stinging nettle. “Ow,” he said.

I laughed, very nervously. Actually, it was more like a choked croak. He reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out a red Cartier box. I swallowed a pocket of air. “You've been busy.”

“Didn't want to get this wrong again.” He held it up and looked into my face. “Tessa King, I absolutely, completely, with every inch of me, love you. Will you please, please, please, marry me? For life?”

This time there was no pause. He didn't even get to open the box.

“Ow,” I said, as I landed on the same nettle. Luckily, James knew exactly how to kiss it better.

“Is that a yes?”

I kissed him back, then smiled. “Damn right it's a yes.”

 

I
RAN UPSTAIRS TO TELL
my mother the news and show off my beautiful, perfect eternity ring. Eternity, not engagement. I liked that. I wasn't engaged. I was committed. For life. I burst through the door without knocking, but my mother wasn't there.

“Down here,” called James.

I ran back down, threw myself around James, kissed him, and went into the kitchen. I had to steady myself for a second. Peter was sitting at the table, the paper open in front of him and a glass of red wine in his hand. Just like Dad. I blinked.

“Sorry,” he said. “Couldn't take any more tea. It was open.”

“It wasn't that. You just reminded me of Dad.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No,” I said. “It was nice.” I recovered quickly. “Sod the tea. Let's open champagne.”

“Champagne?” asked Peter.

I thrust out my left hand at him. Peter knocked the chair backward in his rush to congratulate us. “Couldn't be happier,” he said. “I mean it. Couldn't be happier.” I watched father and son embrace, and was glad that Dad had known Peter. And vice versa. It would make it easier for Peter to understand me. There was no champagne in our Bea-proof house, so James and Peter offered to go to the liquor store. A celebration was due, today of all days.

“Should we get the girls back?” I asked.

“No. We'll tell them tomorrow. Tonight it's just you and me.”

I nodded. “Where are Mum and Honor?”

“Decided to take some air before we headed home,” said Peter. “Come on, son. Let's go before the screeching starts.”

“Oi, I don't screech,” I said, longing to screech.

James walked over and put his hand over my heart. “I think your dad would have been pleased,” he said.

“He is.”

“I love you, Tessa King.”

“And I love you, James Kent.”

“Honestly,” said Peter. “We're only going around the corner.”

We laughed stupidly, then laughed more stupidly because of our stupid laughing. Eventually, I pushed him out.

I expected to find Mum and Honor sitting on the terrace, catching the last afternoon sun. But they weren't there.

“Mum! Hello!” I wandered out into the garden where Dad had whiled away so many hours. I bowed to the daffodils. They bowed back. “Mum!” I shouted, a little louder. They couldn't have got far.

“Over here,” came a voice.

“Where?”

“The other side of the orchard.”

Beyond the garden there was a patch of wild meadow. Well, it was called wild, but it had been carefully trained. My parents had sown wildflower seeds and worked hard at keeping weeds at bay. It was a beautiful boundary between their garden and the rest of the countryside. No privet hedge for Mum and Dad.

“Where?”

“Here.”

“I can't see you.”

Suddenly, a hand appeared above the long grass and waved at me.

“Mum! You okay?” I panicked. Had she fallen? Where was Honor? Was that sobbing? I ran, ducking through the trees, into the grass, and nearly put my foot through my future mother-in-law's naked sternum. “Bloody hell!” I exclaimed.

“Hello, darling,” said Mum, as if it were perfectly normal to strip off and lie in the grass with her arms and legs spread out. They were giggling.

“What are you doing?”

“Saying good-bye,” said Mum, “and it feels wonderful.”

“Aren't you cold?”

“The adrenaline's kicked in,” said Mum. “I feel invincible.”

“Why don't you join us?” asked Honor.

I glanced back at the house.

“Oh, don't worry, no one can see.”

They did look rather wonderful, lying there, arms and legs outstretched, naked as the day they were born. Without allowing myself another thought, I threw off my funereal clothes and hurled my black boots into the undergrowth. Mum was right. I felt a rush of adrenaline surge through me. With Honor on my right and my mother on my left, I made up the circle. On instinct, I stretched out my fingers and we all held hands.

“Nice ring,” said Honor, lifting her head off the grass.

I smiled, staring up at the deep pink clouds. They were right. It did feel wonderful.

“Does it sparkle?” asked my mother.

“I'll say,” replied Honor, turning my hand in hers. I was smiling too much to talk. They squeezed my hands.

“We heard the car,” said Mum.

“Welcome to the family,” said Honor.

“Ditto,” I replied.

Our circle fell silent and, just as my father had described it, I felt
my pulse slow, my mind steady, and my soul open up to the universe.

“So, my darling, how do you feel?” asked my mother.

The ground was soft beneath my body, the air blew gentle kisses over my skin, the sky reached up to my father and back again. I closed my eyes. “Boundless,” I replied.

I
WAS SURROUNDED BY LAUGHTER BUT DIDN'T PRETEND TO JOIN IN
. I wanted to place one of my stepdaughters on my lap and hug her tight, but I had taught myself not to do that. At nine, even the youngest considered herself too old for such public displays of affection. On our own, at home, was fine, but that wasn't when I needed her validation. I felt a hand land on my shoulder, a smile forming automatically as I turned.

“Thank you so much for everything you did for the concert,” said the woman looking down at me.

“I'm happy to help,” I replied.

“It was amazingly generous of your company.”

Maddy beamed. If her headmistress said I was amazing, I must be doing something right. I saw the woman glance at the empty seat next to Maddy.

“She'll be here,” I said.

The headmistress smiled warmly and took her seat. I turned to James. “Cutting it a bit fine, isn't she?” I whispered. “Should I call?”

“She'll be here. She wouldn't miss this for the world,” said James.

The lights dimmed and an awed murmur rose up from the assorted parents, siblings, and add-ons, and dissolved into hush. Maddy and I turned to look at the back.

“Mummy!” she squeaked, and leaped off her seat. I watched Bea make her way along the narrow aisle with ease. It had taken another year, but the final, stubborn pounds had left her. She looked terrific. I budged up one place so she could sit next to Maddy, but Maddy came too, so she'd be between us.

Bea stopped to chat with a friend.

“Sit down!” exclaimed James in a tense whisper. “It's about to start.”

She blew me a kiss as she passed and took her seat. “Sorry,” she said. “Meeting went on.”

James put a finger to his lips and pointed toward the stage. The thick green velvet curtains were drawn back to reveal a single spotlight on stage, and there, in the middle of that glowing puddle, stood Lulu. I glanced down at the program. Lulu Kent to read a poem of her own composition. Without a quiver in her voice, without a mumble or a pause, she began to recite the verses she'd written for the school's annual poetry competition. The winner opened the junior school's show. And there she was. The opening number.

I could see Maddy, Bea, Jimmy, and, beyond him, Amber silently match each word in perfect synchronization, and felt warm inside.

At the interval, Amber and Maddy ran off to find their star of a sister, but parents weren't allowed backstage, so we ambled through the crowd toward the bar. I listened while Bea and James were complimented on Lulu's progress.

“Who would have thought her capable?” said one woman.

Bea caught me listening and winked.

“A brilliant poem. Did she really write it all by herself?” asked another.

I rolled my eyes at her. Bea laughed.

“Every word,” said James. “We didn't even know she was entering it until she won.”

The woman pursed her lips, clearly not convinced.

“Let's get to the bar,” said Bea.

“Who's checking for poison this time?” asked James.

“It's all poison,” I said. “Some demi-sec stuff. I made a note when I came in.”

“Don't worry,” said Bea. “I have friends in high places.” We walked toward the trestle table at the side of the room. There was Carmen, her magnificent cleavage on show, pouring drinks with a flourish. She saw us coming, reached below the counter, and brought out a bottle of fizzy elderflower.

“The others probably need something a little stronger,” said Bea.

“Don't worry,” she said, reaching under the sheet again. “I stashed a nice pinot noir.” She poured generously into two white plastic cups and handed them to James and me.

“You look good behind a bar,” said James.

“Just call me Daisy and slap my arse,” said Carmen, laughing. “Tell you what, if the alimony doesn't come through I might be doing this full-time.”

“He's not going to shaft you out of the money,” said Bea.

“That little cow doesn't come cheap. She's walking around with a new Mulberry bag.” Carmen waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever.”

Carmen was nice to me, but I got the sense she held back full acceptance of my presence as a gesture of solidarity to the First Wives' Club. I understood why and was just grateful for her civility. I suspected Bea had insisted.

I'd had much less welcoming receptions from some of the other mothers at the school gates on the few occasions when Bea had been caught up at work and we'd put our tag team into operation. She and I had both become part-time working mothers in the year since my father's death. Bea had got back in touch with her maid of honor, Suzie. Suzie had started a successful business with her husband, but when he died, everything collapsed. Bea and Suzie were rebuilding it together. As partners. She did twenty hours a week while the girls were at school; I did twenty hours a week being a stepmother. The rest of the time I was a lawyer and a wife. Though not in that order.

“Had the usual ‘compliments'?” Carmen asked Bea.

“A woman I thought liked me practically accused Lulu of plagiarism.”

“Darling, you've lost half your body weight. No one likes you any
more, and I mean no one. Including me.” Carmen opened some cheap-looking long-life orange juice. “I've got to say, the change in Lulu is remarkable, though,” she said.

“Well, it was Tessa who called it,” said Bea. “Dyslexia had never crossed my mind.”

“Rubbish. It was you and Mum,” I said.

“No, it wasn't, it was you.”

Carmen raised her glass to me. “Well, whatever, it's a delight to see.”

“Mrs. Kent!” called a voice from the crowd. I turned. So did Bea.

A woman I didn't recognize was waving in our direction.

“Yours,” I said.

“I'll give you fifty if you take it,” said Bea.

“What's she after?” I asked suspiciously.

“School scrunchies,” said Bea.

“No way,” said Carmen, slamming down a bottle. “Your scrunchy days are over.”

“You don't have to tell me.”

James intercepted. “Miss Peterson,” he said. “How are you?” Miss Peterson, I noticed, flattened down her unruly hair before taking his hand. “I wanted to talk to you about an idea I've had to get fathers more involved in the school. The gates can be a daunting place for us dads.”

“Surely not for you, Mr. Kent.” Bea and I took a surreptitious step backward.

“A father-and-daughter away-day. We all take a day off work, no exceptions.”

Miss Peterson clasped her hands in delight. “Oh, Mr. Kent, you are marvelous.” I couldn't look at Bea, because I knew she was giggling into her plastic cup.

“Come on,” said Bea, grabbing my arm. “I think we're wanted.” Three red heads were poking through the gap in the curtain and waving frantically. I fell into step behind her and walked toward my stepdaughters. I smiled happily to myself. Bea was right. We were wanted. Both of us.