Wife And Mother Forever

by Lucy Gordon

  ‘All his calls? How many calls will there be, and how long is he planning to stay?’

  ‘The actual time doesn’t matter,’ Mark said wisely. ‘Dad can get through more business in five minutes than anyone he knows. That’s what he says, anyway. And he always calls America in the evening because they’re five hours behind us, and he says that’s really useful-’

  ‘In other words, he isn’t actually planning to take any time off at all. It’ll be business as usual, just in a different setting.’

  Mark nodded.

  ‘Until I tell him to leave.’

  ‘You wouldn’t,’ Mark said, awed by this reckless courage.

  ‘I would. I’ll be straight with you, Mark. At the right time, I’ll square up to your father and order him off my premises.’

  ‘Wow!’ he said, impressed. He moved closer and spoke like a conspirator. ‘Will you promise me something?’

  She too leaned close. ‘What?’ she whispered dramatically.

  ‘That when you order Dad off your premises I can be there to see. Promise me.’

  She laughed. ‘You wretched boy. All right, I promise you can be there to enjoy it.’

  They jumped apart as Justin appeared with air of suppressed triumph.

  ‘Everything is done upstairs,’ he said. ‘If you’d care to look.’

  ‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ she asked.

  ‘Come and see.’

  She was beginning to suspect the truth, but it was still a surprise to find the beds made perfectly and all the clothes neatly hung up in the wardrobe.

  She realised that he was watching her closely, enjoying her expression.

  ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘Can you cook as well?’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I intend to,’ she said incredulously.

  But again he proved himself better than her doubts. His egg and chips might not have been haute cuisine but they were properly cooked, even if both father and son drenched everything in tomato ketchup. She had to smile at the sight of them acting in unison, wiping their plates with bread, fearful of losing the last smidgen of ketchup.

  When the meal was over she leaned back, watching him, her arms folded.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘Well?’

  She inclined her head slightly towards the sink.

  ‘I did the cooking,’ he said indignantly.

  ‘Yeah, but we invited ourselves, Dad,’ Mark muttered.

  ‘Fine. I’ll wash, you dry.’ He rose. ‘Where’s the washing-up liquid?’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ she said, laughing.

  In the end they all did it together in an atmosphere that was more pleasant than she would have dared to hope. Afterwards Mark asked to watch the television, and was amazed to discover that the set only received four terrestrial channels and had no teletext. Nor was there a video.

  ‘Gosh, it’s like history!’ he gasped.

  ‘Mark!’ Justin said sharply.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Evie chuckled. ‘He didn’t mean it rudely. It must be like something out of the Dark Ages to a modern child.’

  In the end they settled down to watch the news, until they heard an ominous sound outside. Evie turned down the sound and they all listened in alarm.

  ‘It’s raining!’ Mark whispered in horror.

  They went outside, where it was pelting down.

  ‘It’ll be all right in the morning,’ Evie said.

  Mark looked at her. ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise,’ she said recklessly. ‘And now I think you should go to bed. It’s late and tomorrow’s a big day.’

  ‘Can we go swimming?’

  ‘What about your cold?’

  ‘It’s better, honestly. Isn’t it, Dad?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have brought him here otherwise,’ Justin assured her. ‘Mark, you heard what Miss Wharton said. Up to bed.’

  Mark took her hand. ‘Miss Wharton-can I call you Evie?’

  ‘Mark!’

  ‘Well, I’m not his teacher any more,’ she said. ‘Evie it is.’

  Mark departed, satisfied.

  ‘I apologise,’ Justin groaned.

  ‘Don’t. He’s just being friendly.’

  ‘How friendly do you think he’ll be tomorrow when it rains?’

  ‘It won’t rain.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because I promised him. You heard me.’

  ‘Yes, but-’

  ‘It won’t rain. I promised.’ She yawned. ‘I think I’ll go to bed too. Sea air makes me sleepy. ‘G’night.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  In her room she undressed and went to bed, listening for the sound of him coming upstairs. She was still listening when she fell asleep.

  She didn’t know what roused her, but she awoke suddenly in the darkness. The clock by her bed showed two o’clock. She listened and thought she could hear a voice talking in the distance.

  Pulling a dressing gown on over her pyjamas, she crept out into the corridor and went to the top of the stairs, from where she could see down into the main room.

  Just as Mark had predicted, Justin had set up a laptop computer and was staring at the screen at the same time as talking into his cellphone. He spoke softly, but Evie could pick up the tense note in his voice.

  ‘I’m sorry but I just couldn’t take the call this afternoon-I know what I said but I had important business-’

  She went quietly downstairs and into the kitchen. By the time she returned with two large mugs of tea he was off the phone.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, taking one. ‘Sorry if I disturbed you, but I had to catch up with my work somehow.’

  ‘Yes, you’ve obviously come prepared. I’m surprised you could put work aside long enough to drive down here. All those hours not at the computer, not on the phone, not making contacts.’

  ‘I don’t bother to make contacts any more. I don’t need to. People contact me.’

  ‘You arrogant so-and-so,’ she said, amused. ‘Anyway, it isn’t true. There’s always someone bigger you can be doing business with.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he reflected. ‘Why don’t you say outright that you’re just surprised that I put Mark first?’

  ‘Well-’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ve already made your poor opinion of me pretty plain, and I’m not arguing with it.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t exactly-’

  ‘Are you saying you don’t have a poor opinion of me?’

  ‘Well, it improved when you took the trouble to drive down here for Mark’s sake. Although it takes a dive at your way of moving people around like pieces on your own private chessboard.’

  ‘Do I do that? Well, maybe sometimes.’

  ‘You know quite well that you do.’

  ‘Miss Wharton-’ he began in a patient voice, but she stopped him.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘You did, you called me something.’

  ‘I called you Miss Wharton.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I thought it was your name.’

  ‘But why aren’t you calling me Evie?’

  ‘Because you haven’t given me your permission.’

  She tore her hair. ‘I gave it to Mark.’

  ‘Yes, to Mark. Not to me.’

  He was serious, she realised. Was it possible for a modern man to be so old-fashioned? Against her will she realised that there was something charming about it.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’ he asked suspiciously.

  ‘It’s nothing.’ It wouldn’t do to tell him she found him charming. He would hate it. ‘Call me Evie. And look, you can stay for a short time, but I’ll have to ask you to leave without warning. I’m expecting someone.’

  ‘Andrew?’

  ‘Yes, not that it’s any of your business.’

  ‘When’s he coming?’

  ‘I’m not sure, but when I know he’s on his way you really do have to go. He and I have a l
ot of ground to make up.’

  ‘You mean because of the other evening?’

  ‘Among other things.’

  ‘But surely you made it up when he called you?’

  She made a face. ‘That wasn’t him. It was someone trying to sell me insurance.’

  A tremor passed over his face as he tried to suppress his grin and didn’t quite manage it.

  ‘Oh, go on, laugh,’ she said. ‘The poor man who called me didn’t think it was so funny when I’d finished giving him a piece of my mind.’

  ‘Having been on the receiving end of a piece of your mind, he has my sympathy.’

  ‘Well, I apologised to him in the end.’

  ‘Did Andrew ever call you?’

  ‘I called him. Same thing.’

  He didn’t comment on this, but asked thoughtfully, ‘Are you in love with him?’

  She drew a sharp breath. ‘That is none of your business.’

  ‘I suppose not, but I’ve asked it now, so why not tell me? Either you love him or you’re not sure, and the reason you dump him so easily is because you’re actually trying to tell him to get lost.’

  Since Andrew himself had said something of the kind she was briefly at a loss for words. She decided that she preferred Justin Dane when she could regard him with outright hostility, simple and uncomplicated.

  ‘Yes, I am in love with Andrew,’ she said firmly.

  He was silent for a moment. ‘I see,’ he said at last. ‘So you want us to leave tomorrow?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘But if he finds me here he might think you’re playing around. Yes, I know, you’ll tell him the truth, but will he believe you?’

  ‘Of course. We trust each other completely. And he won’t turn up without warning, he’ll call me first.’

  ‘He might do it differently this time.’

  ‘Not Andrew.’

  ‘Solid and reliable?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Doesn’t that make life a bit repetitive?’

  She regarded him with smouldering eyes. It was simply unforgivable that he should echo her own thoughts. Her own previous thoughts, she corrected hastily, dating from before she’d realised how foolish she would be to lose him.

  ‘I will not discuss Andrew with you,’ she said.

  ‘You know, I think that’s probably a very wise decision.’

  They eyed each other and she realised that her previous impression had been correct. He really could be charming.

  ‘I was very impressed by your domestic skills,’ she said. ‘All that cooking and bed-making. Your mother did a really good job on you.’

  He didn’t answer, and when she looked at him she found him staring into the distance.

  ‘Hey, I was just paying a compliment to your mother.’

  ‘No need. I never knew her.’

  ‘You mean she died early?’

  ‘Something like that. I’m going to pack up for the night now.’ He began switching off his computer.

  ‘Did I say something wrong?’ she asked, puzzled at the way he had suddenly closed a door on her in a manner that was uncannily similar to his son’s.

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘Did I offend you, mentioning your mother?’

  ‘Of course not. There, everything’s switched off. By the way, I think it’s stopped raining.’

  ‘Of course. What did I tell you?’

  He regarded her for a moment, taking in the impish gleam in her eyes, and unable to stop smiling at her.

  ‘Any minute now you’ll almost have me believing that you cast a magic spell,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe I did. I think I’ll just leave you to wonder about that. By the way, what about swimming trunks? I mean, if you weren’t expecting to stay-’

  ‘We do have them. I thought I might, just possibly, prevail on you.’

  ‘Hogwash!’ she said sternly. ‘Has anyone ever managed to turn you away at the door?’

  ‘The last man who tried was fending off my takeover bid.’

  ‘No guesses who won.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, considering, ‘I took him over, but he made me pay more than I’d meant to.’

  She threw up her hands in mock horror. ‘Disaster!’

  ‘No, just something you have to be prepared for in business. You have to start out knowing what a thing is worth to you and how high you’re prepared to go. Winning at a cost is still winning.’

  ‘At any cost?’

  ‘That depends what you’re aiming to win. Only a few things are worth any cost.’

  ‘What are you aiming to win now?’

  ‘My son’s confidence-his trust-his love-at any cost.’

  That surprised and silenced her. She had suspected it, but hearing him say it warned her that she had partly misread him. There was more to him than she had believed. It was becoming possible to like him.

  Then he said, ‘But I need your help; that’s why I’m here. You’re vital if I’m to have any chance.’

  And suddenly she was a pawn on his chessboard again, irritated into saying, ‘So you worked out the cost of working at half-speed for a few days and decided it was affordable. But where do I figure in your equation?’

  ‘I told you-vital.’

  ‘But supposing I come with a heavy cost?’ she fenced. She was beginning to find fencing with this man strangely exhilarating.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘If you do,’ he said with soft irony, ‘perhaps you should tell me now, so that I can make the necessary arrangements.’

  ‘Oh, get lost!’ she said, cheated of her victory. ‘I’m going to bed.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  L OOKING out of her window next morning, Evie gave thanks that her reckless promise to Mark had been kept. It was a perfect day; the sun was riding high and making the waves glitter almost blindingly.

  Mark was leaning out from the next window, beaming and making ecstatic thumbs up signs. She raised her own thumbs in return, laughing and enjoying his happiness.

  Downstairs, she put on the kettle and began preparing breakfast. After a few minutes they both joined her. Evie stared at the sight of Justin in shorts and casual shirt.

  She stared even more when he gave her a solemn bow, then glanced at his son, as if asking if he’d done it right. But Mark wasn’t satisfied.

  ‘Oh, mighty one!’ he cried, bowing low.

  ‘Mark insists that we do this,’ Justin explained. ‘He says you’re magic because you made the rain stop and the sun come out. So we must propitiate you, mighty one.’

  To her delight he bowed again.

  ‘All right,’ she chuckled. ‘That’s enough grovelling-for today, anyway. Come and have breakfast.’

  ‘Can’t we go to the beach now?’ Mark begged.

  ‘Later, when the water’s had a chance to warm up a bit,’ she told him. ‘You’ve just recovered from a cold.’

  ‘And we should go out and buy some food first,’ Justin said.

  Going around the local supermarket gave her another glimpse of his many facets. Not only could he cook but he also knew what to buy.

  He had good legs too, she thought distractedly.

  After filling the trolley Justin stopped by the wine shelves. ‘White or red?’

  ‘White, please,’ she said.

  ‘Can we go to the beach now?’ Mark asked plaintively as they drove home. ‘It’s ever so hot.’

  ‘We could make some sandwiches and take them with us,’ Evie said.

  They agreed on that, packing up a picnic basket before setting off.

  The road from the cottage to the beach was strewn with large rocks that had to be negotiated on foot. At the far end the sand spread out into an area of pure gold, stretching away to the sea. It was a small area, flanked on two sides by more rocks, which made it almost like a private beach.

  Other holiday makers had been known to brave the rocks for a while, but the trouble of having to climb back over them to get an ice cream was a deterrent. Tod
ay they had the place to themselves.

  Evie had changed, putting on her swimsuit beneath her clothes. She was a little troubled by that swimsuit. It was a bikini, chosen with Andrew in mind, and ideally she would not have worn it now. But she hadn’t thought of it until too late.

  Well, it might be worse, she told herself. As bikinis go it’s fairly modest. Even the top is respectable, and I haven’t got much to display anyway. First time I’ve ever been glad of that.

  They tucked into sandwiches and orange squash, but Mark ate very little.

  ‘You need more than that,’ Evie protested.

  ‘Nope,’ he said, shaking his head firmly. ‘’Cos otherwise you’ll say I mustn’t go swimming after a big meal. So I’ve only eaten a little meal, and I’m going now.’

  Before they could stop him he jumped to his feet and shot away across the sands to plunge into the sea.

  ‘Let’s go,’ Justin said, pulling off his clothes and haring after his son.

  Now there was no time to worry about revealing too much. Evie tore off her own clothes and sped after them, rejoicing in the wind whipping past her, the sun on her bare skin, and then the glorious moment of diving in.

  She came up, looking around, then saw the two of them preparing to scoop up water and douse her with spray. She screamed and backed away, trying to fend them off. But they splashed her without mercy until she had to sink right under the surface to escape them.

  ‘I give in, I give in,’ she cried at last as they roared with laughter.

  They splashed around together for a while, with Evie keeping in the background so that father and son could be together. At last Mark declared he was hungry.

  ‘Come and finish your lunch,’ Evie said.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I’ll have a longer swim first,’ Justin said, and turned to head out to sea.

  Back at base Evie and Mark dried themselves off and settled down on large towels.

  ‘I’m ever so glad we came,’ Mark confided. ‘So’s Dad.’

  ‘Did he tell you that?’

  He shook his head, spraying crumbs.

  ‘Dad doesn’t say things like that,’ he said, when he could speak again. ‘But he’s cheerful. ’Spect it’s ’cos of you.’

  ‘No, it’s ’cos of you,’ she said. ‘He likes being with you. But I’m glad he’s cheerful. He’s much nicer to be around when you can get a smile out of him.’