Women of a Dangerous Age (19 page)

‘Mmm.' Lou put in the last pin. ‘Looks like our grand opening is starting to pay off already. All I need is for the customer count to pick up as the spring comes. Anyway, I've given them your number.' She stopped as a couple of women entered the shop. They looked through the stock, then stood loudly debating the merits of a short-sleeved Horrockses cotton day dress, blue with large stylised flowers in grey and white, and in mint condition. Eventually, one of them was persuaded to try it on. Ali sat back and watched as Lou's inner salesperson took over, suggesting one of her own designs that might work as an alternative. The customer had no hope of getting away scot-free. Half an hour was spent in front of the mirror, trying one, then the other, then a vintage
grey crêpe shift dress with capped sleeves. Just as Ali was on the point of screaming, the woman plumped for Lou's creation, paid up and left the shop with her companion.

They were alone again. Lou entered the sale on her laptop and took up her place at her sewing table. ‘And now …' She glanced at Ali over the top of her specs, re-threaded her needle, picked up the dress, then put it down again. ‘My turn to tell you about how the kids took the news of Rory.'

‘I'm sorry. I should have asked straight away instead of droning on about me. They know then?' She was dying to ask about their feelings towards Hooker, but knew the children took priority and she would have to wait.

‘Oh, boy, do they know.' Lou came out from behind the counter and sat in the chair. ‘Hooker finally invited them to his place on Friday night and broke the news. I wasn't there, obviously, so that they could concentrate on him and what he was saying, not on their betrayed mother.'

‘And how did they take it?' Ali sat on the floor, back against the counter.

Lou shook her head, sad despite the smile. ‘In fact, the boys took it far better than I'd thought they would. They both called me once they'd got home. Jamie thought the affair was basically our business, although he's up for meeting Rory. As for Tom, if anything, he seemed more amused than anything by the idea of his father playing away. Why doesn't that surprise me? Why is it that men
can think so clearly sometimes yet totally bypass their feelings?' She added the last as an afterthought.

Shrugging her shoulders to show she had no answer but agreed with the sentiment, Ali asked, ‘And Nic?'

Lou's expression changed. ‘Devastated. Overwhelmed that her dad isn't the man she thought he was. Says it skews her whole childhood and makes her relationship with him into something else, something she doesn't recognise.'

‘Isn't that a bit overdramatic?'

Lou looked up from her work. ‘You haven't met our Nic, yet. If you had …' She shook her head. ‘I knew she'd be the one who would hurt the most, or at least be the one who would express it. We talked for ages but she's coming over tonight to give me the unexpurgated version. She swears she's never going to talk to Hooker again.' She looked weary, then brightened a little. ‘She'll probably come round in the end.'

For the remaining hour of the afternoon, they were only interrupted by a couple of customers who browsed but left without buying. They ran through the possibilities of what was likely to happen when Rory came to visit. Despite Ali's doubts over Lou's insistence on welcoming the boy into her family, Lou was adamant that his getting to know his brothers and sister was the right thing for them all, so long as his mother was in agreement.

Eventually, the clock struck five. Sunday closing time. Ali got to her feet. ‘You cash up and I'll tidy.' Lou left her sewing where it was, ready for the next working day, cashed up
and tucked the money in the safe while Ali straightened the stock, leaving the gaps between the hangers that she knew Lou liked. Then they locked the shutter and left the shop, walking to the top of the road, easy in each other's company. At the corner, they embraced before going their separate ways.

The fire was lit, the salad made and the smell of supper permeated the house but, the moment Nic came in, she pulled a face.

‘Oh, Mum, tell me you haven't done baked potatoes! I'm being really strict till I've had the baby.' She removed her black mac and tossed it over the end of the banisters. ‘Otherwise I'll be the size of a house. Look at me already.' Her bump was definitely noticeable now.

‘One potato won't do you any harm.' Lou hugged her resistant daughter to her, careful not to squeeze too hard. Releasing her, she admired her anthracite wool jacket, her neat black skirt and heeled boots. She smiled to herself. Nic wouldn't be seen dead going into labour in anything other than her designer schmutter – appearances mattered to her, always had. ‘You look absolutely fine, gorgeous as always. Come and sit down.'

With a large wine for her and a cranberry juice for her daughter, Lou readied herself for what Nic had to say. After she'd piled her plate high with salad, Nic scooped
out her potato, leaving the barest amount of flesh on the skins and discarding the rest on a side plate. ‘All the vitamins in a potato lie right underneath the skin. Did you know that?'

Lou shook her head, not trusting herself to say a word. Instead she took a generous slug of wine, then transferred the offending potato to her own plate where she mashed in a generous chunk of butter.

‘Honestly, Mum! Have some potato with your butter. Don't you think you ought to be a bit careful at your age?' Nic carved off a tiny piece of dry-looking potato skin and popped it into her mouth.

Deep breath. Keep calm. Ignore. ‘Why don't we talk about last night?'

Nic stopped toying with her salad leaves and looked at Lou, tears welling. ‘Well, I've told you really but …' She sniffed, and fumbled in her bag for Kleenex.

‘I want to hear it all again,' reassured Lou, reaching for the kitchen roll.

‘I'm so furious.' Nic blew her nose. Lou was struck by her likeness to Jenny, the same slightly jutting chin: not conventionally pretty but striking. ‘I knew something was up when he asked us all over like that. He never has before, but I just assumed he must be going to tell us Emma was moving in.' She said her name as if an unpleasant smell had just drifted under her nose.

‘So soon?' Lou was stunned to hear how speedily Hooker's new relationship had developed. ‘Really?'

‘No, I suppose not. But I couldn't think what else it could
be that would affect all three of us. As soon as I got there, I knew I was wrong. He looked terrible – as he bloody well should.'

Lou felt a little spark of pleasure at that bit of information but, again, she tried not to show what she was feeling. Whatever her differences with Hooker, she refused to ally herself with the children against him, however tempting. ‘So tell me again what he said.'

Sitting back in her chair, Nic studied her mother's face, gauging her reaction. ‘He poured us all a drink, sat us down in the living room and told us. He said how difficult it was for him, that he'd rather it hadn't come to this, but that you were insisting that he tell us. I was so angry that he said that, as if the whole thing was your fault.'

Lou could envisage the scene as well as if she'd been there. Hooker would be standing in his favourite spot, warming his arse at the fire, hands turned towards the flames, preventing the heat from reaching the others in the room. Up on his toes and down. Gaze fixed on a spot on the carpet.

‘He said he wasn't proud of what he'd done but he'd screwed someone twelve years ago. He didn't put it like that of course …' She paused, as Lou failed to hide her surprise at this new abbreviated version of events. ‘And that she'd had a baby. He couldn't bring himself to look at us. Then he said you were the one insisting that we met this boy and, unless we objected, he'd arrange it. That was it. He didn't even sit down.'

How typical of him to spin the truth so he emerged as saint and her as sinner. Her decision not to be present had
been a mistake. Somehow her insisting that he told them about the existence of his son had been transformed into a worse offence than the eighteen-month affair itself, now miraculously reduced to a one-off, one-night aberration. He was vindicating himself of responsibility by lying. He knew that Lou would never undermine him by telling the children the truth. If only she could enlighten Nic and the boys about their father's behaviour throughout their long marriage. But sharing her suspicions and knowledge with their children meant she'd be using them as pawns in this tiresome game that was going on between her and Hooker, something she'd vowed never to do. Her motives would be coloured by wanting them on her side, and that was wrong.

‘Is that why you left him, Mum? If it is, I don't blame you. I wish you'd told me. I'd have understood.'

Nic's face was set, torn between anger and distress at being let down by the one person she had always relied on. There was no point in making things worse by telling her what she knew. Perhaps it was better for Nic to believe that Hooker's affair with Shona was a one-off. Why damage father–daughter relations any more than they already had been?

‘Sweetheart, I told you why I left. Once you guys had gone, there wasn't anything holding Dad and me together any more. Our relationship had run out of steam and I felt the time had come to start again on my own.' That at least was the truth. ‘I didn't know about Rory, no. But when I found out and that Dad has had regular contact with him, I thought it was important you all know each other.'

‘But I don't want another brother. Two's more than enough, thanks.' Nic managed a smile despite the tear that slid down her cheek. ‘Why are you so keen for us to meet him? I wish he didn't exist.'

‘Don't be silly, Nic. Like it or not, he's part of your family. It's better to get this over with,' Lou coaxed. ‘Because he
is
your brother.'

‘No, he's not!' Nic's voice rose. ‘He's Dad's mistake and Dad's problem and nothing to do with us.'

‘Nic, listen to me.' Lou was going to stick to her guns, despite her increasing concern that she'd handled the matter all wrong. ‘Like it or not, he is to do with us. Because of Dad, we're his family too.' She noted the taut mouth, the raised eyebrow: Nic's frosty expression spoke volumes. ‘Isn't this better than finding out in years to come?'

‘But
we're
not a family any more, are we? It's all very well your taking the moral high ground. But you should stop to think how your decisions affect other people. Us.' She pushed her plate to the centre of the table. ‘We don't live together, you and Dad are separated because you have some weird idea of there being another life out there for you, and now we're expected to cosy up to the kid that's the result of some soulless fuck somewhere.'

‘That's not fair.' Lou was shocked by her daughter's vehemence. ‘And not how it is, at all.'

‘No, Mum. You're the one who's unfair. How is it
fair
,' Nic gave the word new emphasis, ‘to expect us to fit in with some idealised image you have of a happy family especially when you've done your best to smash the existing one to pieces?' She stopped as if to rearm herself.

‘I know you're upset …' Lou didn't know how to reach out to her daughter, how to find the right words. How could she make her understand that she'd done what she'd thought was best for everyone? Just as her relationship with Nic seemed to be improving, she'd managed to put it into reverse.

‘I'm not upset. I'm angry.' But then, to Lou's relief, Nic appeared to run out of anything more to say. Instead of fighting on, she pushed back her chair with a scraping sound and began to clear the table.

‘Nic, you haven't eaten anything,' Lou protested feebly. Even in the most hostile circumstances, feeding one's brood came first, as if the provision of food could smooth over any fissures and make them disappear.

‘I'm not hungry any more.' Said with such finality that Lou despaired of ever bridging the gap between them. She sat with her head in her hands, wishing for a solution to this unholy mess.

But when Nic turned from the sink, her voice had softened. ‘I'm sorry.' She stood behind her mother, put her hands on her shoulders and bent to kiss her on the top of her head, unaware that beneath her Lou was stunned by this unexpected switch of mood. ‘It
is
me that's being unfair. I know you're right, really. You were only doing what you thought was best in the circs. I don't know why I was so sympathetic towards Dad when you left home. He's a typical bloke, led by his prick – I see them all the time at work.'

‘Nic! Please!' Despite everything, Nic's offhanded dismissal of her father upset Lou.

Nic grimaced. ‘I know I shouldn't talk about him like that but I can't believe what he's done. I feel like everything I believed about my childhood was lies. I thought we were all happy together.'

‘We were. You were. This didn't happen until you were in your teens, remember?'

Nic ignored her, obviously determined to think the worst of Hooker. ‘I suppose I do see why you want us to meet this kid but even you can't make me warm to the idea. But all the same … this has made me think about my baby …' She stroked her stomach proprietorially. ‘About the relationship she or he should have with Max. He hasn't exactly come round to the idea of being a father, but at least we're speaking again. However difficult it's going to be, I think I'd want him or her to at least know Max's family too. You're right.'

For a moment, Lou had to double-check that she hadn't entered an alternative universe. No, this was her daughter speaking in the here and now. The unpredictability of Nic's mood was like the weather. One moment, storms and rain, the next the sun was emerging from behind a cloud, the sky clearing and the day as fine as any you could wish for. ‘So what's the plan? Is there one?' She felt safe asking now.

‘He's going to arrange for Rory to visit within the next couple of months, tying in with school holidays and when he can have a week off. I think he was hoping that we'd tell him not to bother, but the boys are curious. Idiots. And the truth is I was so taken aback, I didn't think to object.'

‘I suppose his mother'll come too?' Lou went over to the fridge and pulled out the fresh lemon tart that she'd made. ‘You won't want any of this, will you?'

‘Well, maybe a slither.' Nic's resolves reliably went west in the face of her favourite pudding. Triumphant, Lou tried not to smile as she cut the tart. Nic went on: ‘God knows what she'll do. That's up to Dad and her, I suppose. I'm certainly not going to meet her.' She paused. ‘Do you know what she's like?'

‘No. At least she's nobody I know. I'm not really as interested in her as I am in her son. Her involvement with Dad was over years ago.' Nic didn't need to know that Hooker had gone on seeing her.

‘He's not going to be able to handle this alone. I can't imagine him looking after a child on his own. He'll be hopeless.' Said with all the scorn Nic could muster.

However good a father Hooker had been, the family joke had always been how he drew the line when it came to the domestic nitty-gritty, leaving that exclusively to Lou.

‘If he has a problem then no doubt he'll let me know when my presence is required.' She put Nic's plate in front of her.

‘Don't be so sarky, Mum. It doesn't suit you.' But she reached out to touch Lou's arm to show she was joking.

‘Sorry, darling. Defence mechanism, I guess. This is as difficult for me as for you, you know.' Lou sat down again, plates on the table, and opened the wooden drawer in front of her to give them both a couple of slightly tarnished spoons.

Nic took hers, turned it round in the light, but refrained from comment. Her pursed lips said it all, however. ‘I know. I do, really. I can't imagine how much stuff this has thrown up for you. I should shut up, shouldn't I?' She acknowledged Lou's slight nod with a rueful grin. ‘But we will get through this, won't we?'

Lou was about to reassure her when there was a knock at the front door. She went to answer it. Tom and Jamie stepped in, hugged their mother, then unwrapped their scarves and slung their coats over the banister.

‘It's brass monkeys out there,' said Tom, leading the way to the kitchen. ‘Anything to eat?'

‘You're such a pig,' said Nic, disapproving. ‘Mum and I are having a serious chat about Dad and the boy.'

‘Got to eat to live, you know, Nic.' Tom hugged her until she shook him off, then headed to the fridge. ‘But there's nothing worth eating in here,' he protested in disbelief. ‘And I'm starving.'

‘If you'd said you were coming, I might have been prepared,' said Lou, unperturbed by the immediate raid on her food supplies. This was what happened whenever the boys came over. ‘How about defrosting some sausages?'

Tom's face said exactly what he thought of that idea.

‘Shut up, Tom.' Jamie took over. ‘We haven't come over so you can stuff your face. We knew Nic was going to be here, Mum, so we've come to give you a bit of support too.'

‘That's very sweet of you, boys.' Lou was touched. ‘But I'm fine now I've had time to get used to the idea.
Honestly. I've been much more worried about how you'd take it.'

‘Don't be. We're taking the news on the chin, aren't we, bruv?' Spoken to his brother's back as Tom burrowed in the cupboard and came out, triumphant, with a bag of crisps.

‘Of course. Dad's an idiot not to have told us all years ago. My guess is that this isn't the only one – the affair I mean, not the child.' Tom's last words were muffled in the sound of crunching crisps but he looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, Mum.'

‘Honestly, Tom.' Nic's disapproval was glaring. ‘Why don't you just sit down and have a slice of tart.'