I had the agenda for the meeting on my phone. I just didn’t have the things I wanted to discuss. Because I’d left the book I wanted to commission on the kitchen table when Addison had had a tantrum about not being able to have chicken nuggets for breakfast. And I couldn’t remember the name of the author who wrote the book, and I couldn’t get another copy of the manuscript because I couldn’t remember the name of the author and I didn’t have an assistant to get one for me.
I was going to have to admit defeat and get some help. An assistant at work would mean I’d be more organized at home. Right now, I wasn’t functioning at even an average level at either being a father or a commissioning editor.
Irene had been amazing. God rest her soul. Although I’d had to up my gym attendance because she was always bringing in cake. Endless drinks came my way and she’d fussed around me. And she’d known office systems despite her age. Experience had counted in her case. She never overstepped the mark, just waited for instructions. She’d never been a dynamic, thinks-for-you assistant, but that was fine. It had been simple and easy. Until she had a heart attack on a vacation with her husband.
My mother was insisting I get a replacement, saying my father was at his wits end with me. I always knew when I’d pushed him too far, when he could no longer deal with me directly and sent the big guns in—Mum. Speaking of which, she was calling in after her hair appointment this morning. I just had to survive this meeting first.
“We’ve had some tentative discussions this week with one of the main players in the ebook game. They want to bring out some weekly serials that readers can subscribe too, like episodes of a box set. Think Netflix for readers. The idea would be to trial all ‘episodes’ available at once, versus dropping one ‘episode’ a week. We need two psychological thrillers that keep dropping twists and turns that could maybe be formatted into such an episodic manner, or the name of a couple of authors who write fast and could be approached to submit manuscripts. What have you got in the pipeline, Jude? You said you were bringing in a shit hot suspense today.” My father’s gaze landed on me, expectant and no-nonsense.
“Er, yes, well something came up with that manuscript. I’m waiting for the author to get back to me about it.”
“Is it an author we know? Have they submitted before?”
Shit. “I’d rather keep it to myself for now, just in case it doesn’t pan out and I have to look elsewhere. Let me get them on the phone this afternoon and I’ll call you ASAP with an update.” I pretended to make a note on my phone.
My father’s cool, calculating gaze spoke volumes. He knew I was bullshitting. However, he moved on to other things and didn’t ask me anything else for the remainder of the meeting.
On our way out, he pulled me to one side. “Sort your shit out, Jude. You’re costing me money, and son or not, I’m running a business, not a charity.”
“I suppose I’d better go work for my mum then instead.” I said huffing, like I was still fourteen and not a grown man of twenty-nine, and father to a six-year-old.
Something about my comment appeared to amuse him. He patted me on my back. “Jude, you’re fabulous at what you do. When you do it. It’s when your stubborn streak comes out, replacing all common sense that I think Christ, why did I hire Mr Bloody High Maintenance. Your mum doesn’t take as much upkeep as you do.”
“I heard that, Gerry Davenport. You’ll pay for that remark later.” My mum’s voice sounded from behind us.
“I hope so, darling.” He bent and kissed her cheek. “Talk some sense into the stubborn mule, will you?”
“It’s all in hand. I think I found the perfect person.” She smiled at him. “Just give me a day or so.”
My mum collected Addison from school each day and stayed with her until I could get home from work. She doted on her. For me it was the best arrangement. I dropped her at school and mum was there for her at the end of the day. No nannies. After her early years with her mother, I wanted to ensure that Addison always knew she was surrounded by people who loved her dearly, not ones who dropped her off with anyone and everyone while they went and got off their tits. I knew she needed a female role model and my mother had always been a constant in my life. A pain in the arse, but a constant no less. Tillie had played me. My mother had warned me from the outset, but I was young and thought I knew everything. It had been a painful life lesson I wasn’t sure I’d ever fully recover from. I shook my head and shoulders. It was one I didn’t want to think of right now. Right now, I needed to try to remember the name of that author… I think they might be male. That was all. God help me.
Walking into my office past the empty assistant’s desk, my mother noted the piles of post. Piled high there were manuscripts I needed to look at; slush pile crap sent to me directly that needed to be binned or given to the interns to see if they could spot a diamond in the rough; and what appeared to be hundreds of empty coffee cups that I’d dumped there on my way in to the office.
“You don’t have to say anything. I know. I need an assistant. I’ll try another old one. I just need to try not to get too invested before they die.”
My mother tutted. “Jude, I hopefully have a new assistant for you, though I’m not sure when she would be able to start. I’m hoping to meet with her sooner rather than later. She’s a lovely girl. Works at the salon. I’ve known her for years.”
“So she has extensive experience of publishing then?”
“Don’t be facetious, Jude. She’s polite, and hard-working. She’d fit in well here. You just need to let people do their job.”
“I give it a day before she starts opening the buttons on her blouse to show me her breasts.”
“She won’t. Pippa’s not like that.”
“We’ll see.”
“Anyway.” My mum straightened her coat as she sat down. Heaven forbid she crease her immaculate look. “How’s my beautiful granddaughter? I missed her this weekend.”
“She drew her idea for a stage in her bedroom complete with microphone on the living room wall. She then called Uncle Archie via speed dial and asked if he could come quote.”
My elder brother Archie was the black sheep of the family who’d not wanted to work in publishing and instead ran a home improvements company.
“Of course, Uncle Archie said he could do it whenever she wanted. I tried to explain to him that she would have no such thing, especially after drawing on the walls and he just said walls painted over and he’d take care of that too. She’s beyond spoiled, Mother. It’s no good for her.”
“You had your own corner of the garage, darling, housing miniature Porsche and Ferrari’s. So unless she requests a pole for on the stage, I don’t think you need to worry. Get her into drama classes, maybe she’s the next Meryl Streep?”
“Don’t you think she’s dramatic enough without her being taught more?”
“She’s adorable and you know it.”
She was and that’s how my darling daughter got away with everything. Because she was beautiful, and amazing, and I loved every single hair on her head; and I would never forgive her mother for how she’d left her and the trauma she’d caused.
“On our way home, we could call at Harrods then and look for microphones and little seats for the audience to sit on?” My mum grinned.
“If I say no, you’ll do it anyway, so whatever, Mother. Just make sure she does any homework she’s been given.”
“Don’t I always? She’s so bright too. I’ll have to get her some more books while we’re out. She’s bound to follow you into the business, Jude. She’s voracious. Always telling me what she loves about what she just read. Ooh, maybe I could make a tiny office for her in the corner of her bedroom at our house where she can pretend to be a publishing mogul.” Mother clapped with excitement.
I shook my head exasperated. Today was already proving to be testing and my mother wasn’t helping.
“Anything else, Mum? Only I really need to get on.”
“Only to say that if I do get P
ippa to start here, you’re to be kind. I think she’s a sensitive girl underneath. She has a lot on her plate outside of work.”
“Sounds like she’ll be the employee of the year. I’m a busy man. If she can’t handle that, she’s no good here.”
“Oh, she’ll handle you. I have no doubt.” Mum smirked.
“You mean the workload of course? I don’t need handling. That was my previous assistants’ problem. They were always trying to ‘handle’ me, usually by cupping my testicles.”
“Of course, I meant in terms of the job.” She said. “Okay, I’d better get on. I’ll keep you posted on any developments in her employment.”
My mum kissed my cheek and bade me farewell; but left me feeling even more out of my depth than I had been at the start of the day. I looked at the work piled up around me. Sod it, another empty coffee cup on that desk wouldn’t make much difference. I’d go get lunch.
By the time I’d got home from work I’d decided that as long as Pippa kept her hands to herself, then I would welcome an assistant. I would ensure she knew it was firmly business only and make no attempt to be friendly with her. Neither would I be a complete arsehole. I needed an assistant to stay, otherwise I was going to make a mistake in my job I couldn’t get back from. I was good at my job. Though my father had employed me, I’d earned my promotion to commissioning editor in thriller and suspense fiction on my own merit. It was just if I didn’t get a grip, I might also earn my own firing.
“Daadddddeeeeee.” A small but mighty body hurled itself into my leg clinging on for dear life. I scooped her up and hugged her close, thinking she seemed to have grown again in the few hours we’d been apart. She was tall and slim, a lot taller for her age than her friends, but then I was six foot two and her mother had been five foot ten or thereabouts. With her dark hair and dark eyes she was all mine though in looks; no doubt whatsoever to her parentage in the shape of those chocolate eyes and the cupid bow pout that got her out of many a misdemeanour.
“Hey, Munchkin.”
“I’m an actress not a pumpkin, Daddy.”
“I said Munchkin.”
“Can you not say pumpkin? Silly Daddy.”
I put her down and she went running, scooping up armfuls of cuddly toys. “Look, these are my audience, Daddy, for my stage production.”
I rose a brow at my mother.
“I may have got a little carried away.”
“Go and get washed and then I’m going to take you out for pizza.” I said, receiving a delighted squeal in return followed by footsteps running for the downstairs bathroom.
“I love pizza.” We heard as she got further away.
“Thanks once again, Mum. Even if you did spoil her again. Anyway, I’ve been thinking about what you said and if this Pippa does want a job as my assistant, I will do my best to try to be a good boss, as long as she knows I am complete off-limits.”
“God, you flatter yourself. I obviously spent far too long praising you as a child. As long as you know that Pippa is also off-limits. It did take two to tango when it came to you and Tillie, you know?”
“Yes, well, I didn’t just get my fingers burned there, I got 360° burns requiring skin grafts, so she’s no worries on that score.”
“One day, darling, you’ll learn to open your heart again. They aren’t all like Tillie. But for now, let’s get your office organised, because the quicker we get your dad off both our backs the better.”
“Grandad is getting on your backs? But he’s heavy. You need to tell him not to do that. He could hurt you.” My lovely little innocent angel, who didn’t miss a bloody trick was back looking inquisitive.
“It’s an expression meaning he’s moaning at us, sweetheart. He’s not really on our back.”
“Oh, okay.” Addison turned to my mum. “Grandma, when I drew on the wall, Daddy got right on my back.”
I rubbed at my forehead.
“Pizza, let’s go.” I waved my car keys. “Grandma, you coming?”
Lying in bed that night, I worried about the future. Addison was growing up fast, and soon I wouldn’t feel like I could do everything I did now, like bath her. She’d naturally grow away from me and my heart was already breaking thinking about it.
I knew that ultimately, Tillie couldn’t help what had happened to her. Addiction had had her in its grasp until it squeezed so hard she couldn’t escape. But she’d left both a beautiful legacy and a desperate tragedy in her wake. No matter how much I cared for my daughter, I couldn’t be her mother. Her mother was gone.
And I didn’t know what ongoing effect that would have on my daughter, so while ever she wanted to act on make-believe stages, I’d indulge her any way I could.
But no matter what my mother said, I didn’t think I’d ever trust a woman to be part of both our lives. Addison had already suffered a traumatic loss. I couldn’t risk it. I’d keep to one-night-stands and fuck buddies like I had in the last few years. Keep it simple.
There was only room for one woman permanently in my home, and that was Addison.
I walked and stood in the doorway of her bedroom, gazing at her sleeping form.
I thought my heart would burst. Whatever grief had come from my relationship with her mother, Tillie had taught me how to love, by bringing my daughter into the world.
3
PIPPA
I walked into the after-school club to collect my younger sister. Whereas I was yawning and looking forward to putting my feet up, Liberty was jumping up and down. Was it my imagination or did the after- school club women look extra relieved to see me?
“How’s she been?” I asked them.
A fake plastered-on smile greeted me from one of the staff. “Liberty’s been a little bored. She’s so bright and energetic. I’m going to bring her some crafts in tomorrow. Try to get her mind on something productive.”
“Sounds good.” I said when really I wanted to say, ‘good luck with that’.
“Can we go to the park?” Liberty asked me running around the nearby table.
“No. I tell you this every day, Libs. I have to get home to make sure Mum’s okay, Jamie’s doing his homework, and then I have to cook tea.”
“It’s not fair.” Liberty stamped her feet, her jaw jutting out.
“Look, I’ll take you after tea, okay?”
She pouted. “You promise?”
“Yes,” I answered tiredly, thinking of my chance at a rest going out of the window. “I promise.”
“Yaayyy.” She picked her bag up from where she’d let it fall to the floor with her tantrum and followed me out of the door.
Jamie had sent me a text to let me know he’d arrived home safely as he did every day. When I got home, I found Mum in the kitchen trying to cook spaghetti. Jamie was at her side passing her things.
“Mum! What have I told you about resting?”
She tutted. “I’m bored of resting, Pip. I’ve had a better day today, so me and Jamie are cooking the tea. Go sit down for once, you look exhausted.”
“She’s taking me to the park after tea.” Liberty danced around, her blonde hair whipping in her face. “I kissed George today, Mum. He’s my boyfriend now.”
Mum’s mouth curled at the corner. “George? I thought you liked Ted?”
Liberty stood with a hip tilted, pulling a face. “Ted weed himself this morning. I don’t date wee-wee heads.” With that she dropped her bag and coat on the floor where she was standing and ran off, no doubt to torment the crap—also known as Liberty saying hello—out of our poor tabby cat Esmeralda.
I picked her belongings up from the floor.
“How come I have to put my things away neatly, but Libby can drop hers where she likes?” Jamie grumbled.
“Usually, I’d make her tidy up, but right now I need to get my own coat and shoes off. Seeing as you have tea organised, I’ll go get freshened up.” No sooner were the words out of my mouth, my mum stumbled, dropping an empty dish that smashed all over the floor.
“For Chr
ist’s sake, I’m so useless. Jamie, why don’t you have anything on your feet?” She snapped. “I don’t need you getting cut on top of this crap.” I saw him flinch. I nodded to him to leave the room and I went and put my hand on my mum’s shoulder. “Mum…”
Tears swam in her eyes. “I know. I know. I shouldn’t have yelled like that. But I’m just so frustrated at being clumsy.”
“You’re not clumsy. You have MS. Anyway, anyone can trip and drop things; it’s not necessarily due to your illness.”
But of course the worry was that it was, and there was always the underlying question of would she one day end up in a wheelchair or would she be able to stay mobile with the help of her stick like she could now.
“Okay, this meal is almost ready, so I need you to let me tidy up this broken stuff and plate up.”
Mum sighed and started to make her way out of the room. “Jamie. Can you set the table?” I shouted. He came running in to get the silverware. “Is Mum okay?” His ten-year-old forehead was etched with worry lines.
“She’s fine. She actually tripped on a loose bit of lino.” I lied. “I’ve stuck it back down.”
Looking reassured, he ran off and with that I turned around and finished the meal.
Jamie deserved his own downtime, so once the meal was finished, I went and washed the dishes and checking he was okay in his room with his Xbox and Mum was settled in front of the tv, I took Liberty to the park.
Sitting on a bench watching her run around, I was jealous of Libby’s innocence. Of the exuberance and joy she had for everything life offered. I wished she could keep it. Didn’t have to grow up with the possibility of having to share care of our mother. To be weighed down with responsibilities.
Then as fast as she’d been full of energy, the next minute Libby looked tired and sleepy and she came back over rubbing at her eye.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah, I’m pooped.” She giggled and I put my hand over my mouth in fake shock then giggled along with her before taking her home where I bathed her and got her ready for bed.
Then There Was You: A Single Parent Collection Page 121
