by Erica James
‘But maybe now the hurt is knowing you fell for his lies.’
‘Hurt pride, you mean?’
‘It’s always been your Achilles heel. Don’t let it get the better of you this time. Promise?’
‘I promise, Big Bruv.’
‘So, how’s it going at Woodside?’
‘Actually it’s okay. There’s this old lady called Mrs Dallimore who’s been telling me about when she was a young girl. It’s riveting and addictive stuff; I could sit and listen to her all day, given half the chance. It’s made me realise that under that one roof there are all these people with a great stash of stories to tell.’
‘I can remember Mum saying much the same when she started working there.’
‘Talking of Mum, she and Dad were weirdly ratty with each other last night, and this morning. I felt like Freddie and I were caught in the crossfire.’
‘That’s not like them,’ Luke said after a pause.
‘I know. And the ridiculous thing is, it’s all because Freddie fell in the pond yesterday on Dad’s watch and he’s—’ Lizzie suddenly realised she wasn’t supposed to let on about Freddie’s dunking accident. Not when it might get back to Ingrid. Although, as she’d pointed out to her parents, Freddie was now getting to the stage when he could easily spill the beans to his parents.
‘When you say he fell in,’ Luke said, ‘what do you mean exactly?’
Uh-oh, bad Lizzie! ‘Well,’ she said, mentally picturing the precarious minefield she had just created for herself, ‘I wasn’t there in person, so all I know is … well … I think Freddie just got a bit, you know, excited and probably fancied a paddle. Nothing to worry about. Freddie’s absolutely fine. If he wasn’t, you’d have been the first to know. Mum and Dad would never keep anything serious from you when it comes to Freddie. I bet he’s had tons of little accidents which you’ve never heard about.’ She finally located the off button and hit it hard.
‘None of what you’re saying is really helping to put my mind at rest, Lizzie. Quite the reverse, if I’m honest.’
‘I’m sorry, Luke, I’m doing my best to back-pedal over something that really would be neither here nor there if we weren’t all so scared of how Ingrid would react. She always goes over the top when it comes to Freddie. You know that. And you also know we all walk on eggshells around her.’
When Luke didn’t say anything, Lizzie feared she’d blown it. ‘Are you there, Luke?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes, I am,’ he said slowly. ‘I was just selecting a larger shovel for you to use to dig yourself an even bigger hole. You might want to rethink your interpretation of back-pedalling.’
‘Oh Luke, you know what I’m like, sometimes I just open my mouth and rubbish pours out.’
‘I disagree. You usually speak straight from the heart and say what others are too afraid to say.’
‘Yeah, but not this time,’ she lied, trying to make good the damage her big mouth had caused – even she could see that as salvage operations went, she had her work cut out. ‘This time I was shooting my mouth off like the idiot I am. Just forget I ever said anything. Please?’
Hearing her brother mutter some sort of assent, and desperate to change the subject, she told him about Simon turning up out of the blue. ‘Thank God I wasn’t at home when he called in,’ she said, ‘I’d have died on the spot. Mind you, if I had been there, I might have been able to stop Mum blurting out that Curt had just dumped me. Instead, Simon’s probably now punching the air that I’ve got my comeuppance.’
‘I doubt that. Simon isn’t that kind of guy. I ought to go; I still have a few things I need to finish before leaving.’
One of these days, thought Lizzie irritably when she’d said goodbye to Luke and climbed back on her bike to set off for home, she would learn to keep her big yapper shut. It was one thing for her brother to suspect his family might view his wife in a certain way, but to have it confirmed was quite another matter.
She had only been cycling for a short while when she heard somebody calling her name. She turned to see Jed powering towards her on his mountain bike. Drawing level, he gave her a megawatt, campaign-poster smile. ‘Fancy risking another drink at the Riverside with me?’ he asked.
They sat at the same table as they had two evenings ago. ‘I have news for you,’ he said, after he’d taken a long, appreciative drink of his beer. ‘My friend at Skylark Radio says he’d like to meet you. He’s looking for a researcher who might want to do a bit of presenting work to cover some maternity leave. And I’m all too aware that Bury St Edmunds is not the sexy centre of broadcasting action you’ve always dreamt of, that it’s very much the wilderness in your eyes, but it could suit you until something better comes along.’
‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you?’
He passed a hand across his face. ‘Sorry, did I have my joker’s face on then?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, ‘it’s difficult to tell with you when you appear to take so little seriously.’
‘Well, here’s a newsflash, in this instance I am being serious, and so is Ricky. He said to ask you to give him a call to set up a time when you could go into the studio to meet him.’ From his pocket, Jed pulled out a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it. ‘Thank me anytime you feel like it.’
She took the piece of paper and put it safely in her bag. ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘and I’m sorry if I sounded ungrateful, it’s just that I really didn’t expect anything to come of our previous conversation.’
‘Ah, you thought I was all talk and no do. Sorry to disappoint you.’
‘You haven’t. You absolutely haven’t. Thank you again for what you’ve done, I appreciate it.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t go overdoing the gratitude, or I’ll think I’m on a promise.’
She tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘And there you go again, spoiling a special moment of magic between us.’
He laughed. ‘Story of my life.’
‘Now there’s a story I wouldn’t mind hearing: yours.’ She gave him a long appraising stare. ‘Did you grow up round here? Are you a local boy?’
‘I’m a local boy through and through. Apart from time spent away at school and university. And yes, before you climb up onto your high horse, I am what you call a posh boy who went to boarding school. You can fight that particular battle with my parents if you want.’
Remembering how rude she’d been the other evening with him, Lizzie apologised again. ‘I’m sorry I had a go at you about that. I was out of order.’
‘Yes, you were. Especially as I only ended up at boarding school because my parents were going through a messy and acrimonious divorce and it was deemed better for me to be somewhere that would provide more stability than either of my parents could.’
‘I stand fully corrected. How are things with them these days?’
‘Dad sold his business and is enjoying retirement in the South of France with wife number three. Mum hasn’t fared so well. She’s got motor neurone disease, and that’s the reason I’ve moved back here from London, to take care of her.’ He glanced away briefly, then took a mouthful of his beer. ‘She sees herself as a burden and hates it.’
‘How awful for her. And for you to know that she’s suffering this way. What were you doing in London before?’
He turned to look at her directly from behind his sunglasses. ‘What would give you the most pleasure to hear me say?’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said with a frown.
‘What’s been the most hated profession in the last few years? Come on, you can work it out.’
‘No! You were a banker?’
He tipped his sunglasses up and gave her a long stare. ‘Yep, a fully fledged City banker. I was pretty good at it, too, in case you’re wondering. And just as I predicted, I can see the look of triumphant disgust in your eyes. Now my fate is sealed; t
hrow me that noose you keep in your back pocket and I’ll slip it over my head now.’
She smiled. ‘I’ll hold onto it for a while longer, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’ve got worse to tell me yet.’
He laughed. ‘It’s good to know you regard me so highly.’
Lizzie took a sip of her beer and considered what Jed had told her. Dressed in shabby jeans and a faded T-shirt, and with his tanned face, muscular arms and thick, golden-brown hair that looked like it needed a good brush, there was nothing of the City banker about him. She tried to picture him in a smart suit doing whatever it was bankers did, and failed totally.
A thought occurred to her. ‘Presumably, as a banker, you were making a ton of money; couldn’t you have paid for a carer for your mother?’
‘Is that what you would do if it was your mother?’
Shamed by his question, Lizzie looked away, realising she had never stopped to think of what would happen if one of her parents wasn’t around and the other was seriously ill. Perhaps subconsciously she’d always assumed Luke – always the more sensible and grown up of the two of them – would be the one to step in and sort things out. He was much more efficiently organised than she was.
‘I see you’re hesitating over your answer,’ Jed remarked.
‘Not for the reason you’re thinking,’ she said, turning to look at him again, ‘it’s just something I’ve never given any thought to before now.’
‘We none of us do, not until we’re face to face with the dilemma. And don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want to do it at first. I researched every other available avenue before giving in to the one unassailable truth – I’m all my mother has, barring a couple of close friends and some helpful neighbours. But then when redundancies at the bank were fluttering around like confetti, I took it as a sign to grab the financial package on offer and do the right thing.’
‘Couldn’t you have stayed in London and have your mother live with you?’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t think it was fair to uproot her to suit my needs, which makes me sound more altruistic than I really am. It’s more a case of being pragmatic – the medical opinion is of the view she’ll be lucky to see her next birthday, so why not do the best I can meanwhile?’ He leant forward in his seat. ‘The one big scary fact I’ve come to understand in all this is that being responsible for another person is the ultimate act of growing up. Something I’d never been in any hurry to do previously.’
Thinking of the life he must have sacrificed in order to take care of his mother, Lizzie said, ‘Do you ever regret what you’ve given up?’
‘Sure, there are times when I miss London and the person I used to be, but for now my life’s here. It might sound strange, but I’ve found it quite a liberating experience and have adopted a take-each-day-as-it-comes attitude. I’m lucky to have a fair-sized cushion of money in the bank, so I can pay for an excellent carer to keep an eye on Mum while I work part-time, with hours to suit our arrangement.’
Her curiosity piqued, she couldn’t resist asking her next question. ‘But why gardening work?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? I used to do it as a summer job when I was at university, so despite what you think, I do actually know what I’m doing. And more to the point, I enjoy it. I could be at home 24/7, but that would make Mum feel even more of a burden.’ He drained his glass and looked at his watch. ‘I ought to be going; Mum’s carer will be leaving soon.’
After they’d parted, and after Jed had reminded her to get in touch with Ricky, Lizzie cycled home deep in thought. Jed had risen considerably in her estimation, but exponentially her view of herself had sunk without trace. She had done nothing but feel sorry for herself since losing her job. Enough was enough. It was time to shake off the pathetic whinger she had become and prove her mettle.
What was more, Luke was right when it came to Curt – it was mostly hurt pride that she was feeling. She had fooled herself into believing that Curt loved her, she could see that very clearly now. Oh, how she’d lapped up his every word about how awful his wife was, how since having their daughter he’d been frozen out and made to feel he was no longer needed. And Lizzie, idiot that she’d been, had kidded herself that she could undo all the harm his wife was causing.
Well, no more time would she waste dwelling on Curt and the consequences of her gullible stupidity. It was time to turn things around.
Luke made it home from work just in time to say goodnight to Freddie before he went to bed at Keeper’s Nook.
Conversations with his son on FaceTime always made him smile as Freddie generally saw it as an opportunity to show him things, excitedly holding whatever it was up to the camera, either so close Luke couldn’t see what it was, or so fleetingly it was no more than a blur. It was always Dad who was with Freddie when they chatted like this, but last night it had been Mum doing the pre-bedtime chat, and now Luke came to think about it, she had seemed slightly off-kilter, giving Freddie hardly any time to chatter on in his haphazard way. Had she been covering up for something? Or maybe it was just tiredness that was the problem: the work involved in taking care of a two-year-old was not to be underestimated.
After Freddie had kissed the screen by way of saying goodnight and run off to have his bath, Luke scrutinised his father’s face and asked if everything was all right.
‘All under control, as always,’ Dad said cheerily. ‘Nothing to worry about.’
‘Dad, you would say if it’s getting too much having Freddie Monday to Friday, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course. But we love having Freddie here. He’s no trouble at all. You’ll never guess who we had a visit from the other evening – none other than Simon. Or did your mother tell you that last night when you called? Or maybe Lizzie’s filled you in?’
Ingrid frequently told Luke that the problem with his parents was that it wasn’t what they said that was important, but what they didn’t say. ‘That’s the bit you have to listen to the hardest,’ she claimed, ‘those polite pauses, or those quick-to-change-the-subject moments.’ Luke had always taken the view that it was human nature to mislead and dissemble and to do so quite unconsciously. But aware that his father had just neatly changed the subject, he said, ‘I don’t want you and Mum to feel we’re taking advantage of you.’
‘We don’t feel that. And anyway, it won’t be long before everything’s back to normal, will it? What’s the latest on the nursery front?’
They talked some more, all without Luke once referring to what Lizzie had told him about Freddie and the pond, and without his father bringing it up. Nor did Luke say anything of his disappointment in his family that they felt they had to tiptoe round the woman he loved, although it was dangerously on the tip of his tongue to ask his father if it were true.
‘Hang on,’ his father said now, ‘I can hear Freddie calling for me to go up and kiss him goodnight. Better do as I’m told. The tyranny of a two-year-old – there’s nothing like it!’
Luke smiled. ‘Give him another hug and a kiss from me.’
‘Will do. Roger and out.’
Dad always ended a FaceTime call that way.
For minutes afterwards, Luke stared absently at the screen. He was still sitting there some minutes later when he heard Ingrid’s key in the lock.
While he cooked supper, Ingrid sat at the kitchen table and dealt with a list of emails she hadn’t had time to answer during the day. Hearing her tapping away on her laptop, Luke thought how, instead of spending more time together of an evening while Freddie was at Mum and Dad’s, he and Ingrid were actually spending less time together, both of them taking advantage of not having to rush off from work to collect Freddie from nursery. The thought had naively crossed Luke’s mind that with a more leisurely start to the day they might linger awhile in bed like they used to – Ingrid had often said that she enjoyed sex first thing in the morning more than at any other time of the day. Not any mor
e, he thought, trying to remember when they had last made love. Or even when they had enjoyed a fun evening out, just the two of them.
He was probably worrying unnecessarily, but thinking how they had always promised themselves that work would never interfere with their relationship, here they were eating late and barely a word being exchanged between them.
‘How about we take off for a couple of weeks’ holiday,’ he suddenly said.
Ingrid stopped typing.
‘There’s bound to be any number of last-minute bargains we could pick up,’ he added.
‘What’s brought this on?’ she asked, reaching for the glass of wine he’d poured for her.
He put down the knife he’d been using to slice mushrooms. ‘I feel in need of a break, somewhere hot and sunny and with some five-star luxury thrown in. Wouldn’t you like that?’
‘Of course, who wouldn’t? When were you thinking?’
‘Next week. Or maybe the week after.’
Ingrid took a sip of her wine and drew her brows together. ‘I couldn’t possibly get away. I’m in the middle of a big case, I can’t just hand over the reins to somebody else because I fancy a holiday.’
He went back to slicing the mushrooms. ‘Forget it, it was stupid of me. I should have thought.’
‘Don’t be silly. It was a nice idea, just not feasible right now. How was Freddie when you spoke to him?’
‘As happy as Larry, like he always is with Mum and Dad. What about the weekend?’ he persisted. ‘We could go away to a classy hotel.’
‘I’m sorry, Luke, but I’ll have to work for at least one of the days over the weekend. And besides, we can’t expect your parents to have Freddie on Saturday and Sunday as well.’
‘I assumed he’d come with us.’
‘A toddler in a classy hotel? It’s not ideal, is it?’ Her fingers had resumed tapping again at the keyboard.
He carried on chopping. What was the point? he wondered.
