Mad About You

by Sinéad Moriarty

  I tried not to cry. I’d had the texts, the parcels. All that was left was for her to harm me. I had never felt so terrified.

  ‘What are you looking at?’

  I jumped. I hadn’t heard Babs come out of her bedroom. I snapped the laptop shut. ‘Just googling the Daily Mail showbiz page,’ I lied. ‘How are you feeling? Did you sleep well?’

  She nodded. ‘Better, thanks.’

  She flopped down beside me, pulled a chocolate bar from her bag and began to eat it.

  ‘Babs, you need to make some changes,’ I said. ‘You’ve probably only got about seven months until the baby is born so you need to eat more healthily and look after yourself properly. The baby needs less sugar and more vegetables and fruit. You drink about ten cups of coffee a day and you’ll have to cut down on that too. Maybe you could switch to decaf and try green tea.’

  Babs said nothing as she shovelled another square of chocolate into her mouth.

  ‘You’ll need to start saving, too. Babies are expensive. I can help you out with buggies, cots and clothes, but you need to get your finances in order. You’re going to have to stop buying clothes and shoes and put money aside for the baby.’

  Babs got up from the couch. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’

  She clearly wasn’t ready to face the realities of being a mother. I’d leave her for now, but sooner or later she was going to have to accept the stark fact that babies need minding.

  She closed the bathroom door and I logged out of the stalker sites on her laptop. As I switched it off, my hands were shaking from the shock of what I had seen and read. I’d have to watch my back. Someone was out to get me.

  24

  By the time I got home that night, I had calmed down a bit. But I was still extremely jumpy. I kept looking over my shoulder as I was walking home from the tube to make sure no one was following me. I had taken a knife from Babs’s kitchen and was holding it in my coat pocket. I closed the door and put the chain on. I was so happy to be home and to see the children.

  Claire offered to give them their bath, but I wanted to. I needed to be with them. I bathed them and put them to bed. We had lovely cuddles before I turned their lights out. I felt much less shaky by the time I came downstairs. Claire was still there because she was babysitting for me. James was working late and I was going to Carol’s. She’d invited Poppy and me over to taste her new batch of home-made wine. Before I left, I sat Claire down and told her that someone was potentially stalking us. I didn’t want to worry her or involve her too much, but I felt she should have an idea of what was going on so that she could be extra careful with the children. I wanted her to be really vigilant. I explained it as briefly and succinctly as I could, playing it down so as not to frighten her.

  She was shocked. ‘How awful! I knew you were rattled by that package the other day, but I had no idea things were so bad. You must be so stressed.’

  ‘I am,’ I admitted.

  ‘What does James think? Does he have any idea who it could be?’

  I was uncomfortable discussing James and his possible unfaithfulness, so I was deliberately vague. ‘Well, he thinks it might be someone at the club playing a very unfunny joke on us. We really don’t know, to be honest. So if you can just keep the kids close to you at all times and don’t answer the door to anyone, except your mother, obviously, if she’s calling in from Poppy’s.’

  Claire’s face darkened at the mention of her mother. ‘I’d be glad not to open the door to her. She’s such a control freak. It drives me mad. You’d think I was nine, not nineteen.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure she’s just protective of you because you had a tough time in the past.’

  ‘She needs to back off,’ Claire said, biting her nail.

  I smiled. ‘All mothers can be a bit overbearing at times. She’ll probably ease off when she sees that you’re happy and in a good place.’ I put my coat on. ‘I won’t be long and if there are any problems, I’m just next door.’

  Carol answered the door in a dress that looked as if she’d made it out of old curtains.

  ‘Do you like my dress?’ She twirled around. ‘I’ve just finished sewing it. I made it from some old curtains I found in a second-hand shop.’

  ‘It’s very floral and cheerful,’ I said, trying to be as honest as possible without hurting her feelings.

  Poppy arrived up the path, behind me. ‘Christ, Carol, what’s that?’

  ‘My new dress.’

  ‘It’s beyond hideous. Please take yourself down to Putney High Street and buy yourself something decent. You’re a lovely-looking woman, so why do you insist on hiding behind these appalling outfits?’

  ‘I love it,’ Carol beamed, ‘and it only cost three quid.’

  Poppy laid her hand on Carol’s shoulder. ‘Darling, it looks as if it cost fifty pence. I admire your attempts to save the planet and be frugal, but really and truly there is a limit.’

  Carol seemed completely unfazed by Poppy’s brutal honesty. I would have taken the criticism so personally, but she was so happy in her own skin that Poppy’s comments slid away, like water off a duck’s back. She was amazing, really.

  Carol showed us into her ‘good’ room. I’d never been into it before. It was filled with the strangest mish-mash of furniture I’d ever seen. The coffee-table was a tree trunk. One chair was made from steel rods and cable wire. Poppy sat on another that was made of four branches nailed together, with a skateboard on top for the seat. She looked hilarious, perched there with her Louboutins skimming the wooden floor. I sat in a third made entirely from coils of thick rope, with a hard cushion in the middle.

  ‘Did you make the furniture yourself too?’ I asked, as Carol poured us a glass of muddy-looking red wine.

  ‘Yes,’ she said proudly. ‘The boys helped me. Almost everything in the house is home-made.’

  ‘You’d never guess,’ Poppy said, with a raised eyebrow, and I bit my lip to stop myself laughing.

  Carol grinned. ‘I’m thinking of our children’s future.’

  ‘By the time my kids are grown-up, I’ll be too tired or Xanaxed to care,’ Poppy drawled. I burst out laughing. These two women were the original chalk and cheese. ‘Now, Carol, can you please explain what this foggy-looking drink is? Tell me there’s alcohol in it.’ Poppy looked suspiciously at her glass.

  Carol nodded. ‘Yes, there is.’

  I took a small sip and tried not to gag. It was awful, really vile. I managed to swallow it and put my glass down.

  Poppy spat hers back into her glass. ‘Are you trying to kill us? This is poison.’

  Carol sipped hers. ‘I think it’s lovely.’

  ‘It’s probably an acquired taste,’ I said diplomatically.

  ‘The only thing you’ll acquire drinking that is hair on your chest. Sod this. I’m sorry, Carol, but I suspected the home-made wine would taste like old socks, so I came prepared.’ Poppy pulled two bottles out of her large Louis Vuitton tote. I could have kissed her. I wanted a glass of proper wine, not gloopy muddy water. She waved them at Carol. ‘There’s a reason that we leave wine-making to the professionals. Now get me a corkscrew and let’s have a drink.’

  ‘I’ll stick to my own,’ Carol said, handing Poppy a corkscrew.

  I felt bad about abandoning Carol’s wine, but it was really awful. As Poppy poured, I remembered what Mum had said about not getting too friendly with her. Could she be stalking us? I thought it was very unlikely, but then again, she could easily leave parcels on our doorstep, and she bumped into James sometimes on the street. He thought she was absolutely mad, but that didn’t mean she didn’t fancy him.

  As if reading my thoughts, Poppy said, ‘Darlings, I have some news. I’ve met someone and he’s stinking rich.’

  That ruled James out.

  ‘Is he a nice person?’ Carol asked.

  Poppy waved her glass. ‘He’s a bit of a bore, actually, but the private jet more than makes up for it.’ She grinned delightedly at us. ‘He took me to lunch yes
terday … in Paris! We went to the divine Sur Mesure on the rue St Honoré. The food is so good there, I actually ate it. Anyway, Jasper started banging on about some merger he’s working on. Obviously I had to stop him before I keeled over with boredom, so I said, “Look, Jasper, I haven’t eaten a meal since I turned thirty-five and my metabolism shut down. This body is the result of starvation and yoga. All that boring chat about your merger is ruining my appetite.”

  ‘Well, he looked at me for a few seconds, then he said, “You are the rudest person I’ve ever been to lunch with. All of my previous dates found me very interesting.”’

  ‘Did you think you’d blown it?’ I asked, thoroughly enjoying this wonderfully distracting saga.

  Poppy smiled. ‘I said to him, “Jasper, for a man who has clearly made millions in business, you are incredibly stupid. I can assure you that no woman who has been out to lunch with you has ever found your mergers and acquisitions conversations interesting. The only thing they’re interested in is your bank balance.”’

  Carol and I burst out laughing.

  ‘So he said, “I find that offensive.” That was when I decided to give it to him straight between the eyes. I’m too old for pussy-footing about.’

  ‘What did you say?’ Carol asked, her eyes wide.

  ‘I said, “Let’s be honest here. You are a short, round, fifty-five-year-old man. Any woman younger than thirty-nine is only interested in your cash. I’m actually interested in it too, but I’m also looking for company. I’m lonely, Jasper. I don’t like being divorced. I want someone to go to dinner, the theatre and cinema with. I want someone to talk to who isn’t under six and who doesn’t think that poo is the most fascinating topic in the world. I wouldn’t have looked at you twice ten years ago, but I’m older, wiser and more realistic now. I’m not going to meet a Bradley Cooper lookalike with deep pockets.”’

  ‘You never!’ Carol gasped.

  ‘That’s not the end of it.’ Poppy was enjoying our rapt attention. ‘I told him, “I’m too old for games. I want a companion. I want someone to have a laugh with and talk to. I no longer look particularly attractive in the morning. It takes a while to put this face on. If you’re not great in bed, that’s OK. Half the time I’m too damn tired for sex anyway. I have two small boys who I’m very fond of, but don’t really understand. I hate football and the opera. I have an ex-husband who just told me he’s expecting a baby with his new young beautiful wife, who has a pert bum and breasts that defy gravity. I know that some of my clothes are too young for me and that really depresses me. I know I should do charity work, but I don’t want to. I hate all animals, even goldfish, and I have a secret crush on Justin Bieber, which is very worrying.”’

  I shook my head in disbelief. ‘Poppy, you are some woman. I like a straight talker, but that takes it to a whole new level.’

  Poppy smiled. ‘Sometimes honesty is the only way, ladies. Anyway, thankfully, Jasper wasn’t one to be scared away so easily. He laughed and then said, “You’re something else, Poppy. I can honestly say I’ve never had a lunch quite like this before. But I appreciate your honesty. So here’s the thing. I got divorced ten years ago and I’m used to my own space now. I like eating toast lathered with honey in bed while watching old war movies. I hate exercise. I find it boring and tiring. I enjoy sex, but my sex drive is definitely not what it used to be. I find lately that I have a tendency to fall asleep in the cinema. I don’t understand Twitter. I think most modern music is loud and noisy. I have a house full of gadgets that I have no idea how to use. I have a teenage daughter who is a nightmare and an ex-wife with a cocaine problem.” I just clinked my glass against his and said, “Then we’re a match made in heaven.” He winked at me then and said, “How do you fancy flying back to London, coming to my house and having average sex?”’

  Carol and I squealed like schoolgirls.

  ‘Well, ladies, I looked that wealthy average man in the eye and said, “Best offer I’ve had in years.”’ She held her glass up to us and took a big gulp of wine.

  Carol and I cheered.

  ‘That has to be the best date story I’ve ever heard,’ I told her, and we laughed. ‘So … how was the sex?’ I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

  ‘Average,’ Poppy admitted, ‘but in a nice way.’

  ‘He sounds lovely,’ Carol said. ‘A nice, decent man, just what you need.’

  ‘Yes, with the added bonus of the private plane and a mansion in Holland Park.’

  ‘So, have you arranged another date?’ Carol asked.

  ‘I’m seeing him tomorrow. We’re going to the cinema. Let’s hope he can stay awake for the whole film. I suggested he drink a double espresso beforehand.’ Poppy glowed. It was lovely to see.

  ‘Romance is alive and well in Putney,’ Carol noted.

  Poppy held up the bottle to me to suggest another glass and I checked my watch. ‘I’d better not,’ I said. ‘I told Claire I’d only be an hour. She’s spending too much time at our house as it is – the poor girl practically lives with us.’

  ‘How’s it going? Are you still finding her good?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘Gosh, yes, absolutely brilliant.’

  ‘Good. Her mother, Maggie, is wonderful. But she does worry about Claire a lot – too much, probably. If I was her, I’d be thinking my job was done and I’d be off living the high life.’

  ‘She does seem very protective,’ I agreed. ‘Claire’s a bit fed up with it, actually. You can see the tension between them.’

  ‘Claire was at my house the other day while your children were at school. When I walked into the kitchen, I saw Maggie trying to grab her phone. Claire was going crazy and pulling it back.’

  ‘Oh, I know what that’s about,’ I said, ‘but you must swear not to breathe a word. Claire has a new boyfriend and she doesn’t want her mother to know about it because she won’t approve.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Poppy said, with a grin. ‘She seems so mousy and quiet. A boyfriend will do her good.’

  I reached for my bag and coat. ‘I’d really better go. Thanks so much, Carol, for a lovely night.’ I tried to climb out of my chair, but my bum was stuck in the rope. I gave myself a tug, lost my balance and fell out sideways. Poppy jumped up to help me, but her jeans got stuck in the edge of her skateboard chair and ripped.

  ‘Carol!’ she exclaimed. ‘Will you please buy some normal chairs? These jeans are my brand new Hudsons.’

  ‘I’m sure I could patch them for you.’ Carol examined the large hole in the side of Poppy’s jeans. ‘I’ve got some curtain material left over.’ Poppy looked utterly horrified. Carol burst out laughing. ‘I’m joking, but you should see your face.’

  I went home smiling. Having a laugh with those two was the perfect antidote to all the crazy stuff going on at the moment. I needed all the ‘normality’ and fun I could find if I was to have any chance of staying sane.

  25

  Babs didn’t come to work the next day. I had called her the night before, when I’d got back from Carol’s, but she hadn’t answered the phone. She had texted, though: I’m fine, talk tomorrow.

  Thankfully, Gary was at a meeting so I didn’t have to face him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself saying something – I was so angry with him for crushing my sister like this.

  I tried calling Babs, but again, no answer. I tried every hour, but she never picked up. We spent the morning shooting the part where I do the guest’s makeup. They filmed me going through the process step by step, describing what I’m doing to the camera and showing what products I’m using. When we finished the segment at noon, I told Karen I was worried about Babs and wanted to pop over at lunchtime to check on her. She said that as they’d done the makeup shots I could leave for the day.

  I rang Babs again. Still no answer. I sent a text telling her I was on my way. I was really beginning to worry.

  As my taxi was heading towards her apartment I received a reply: I’m not at home. Meet me 127 Harley Street.
>
  I was relieved. Babs had obviously decided to see an ob-stetrician. She was clearly taking control of the situation. Maybe I’d make it in time for her first scan. It would be lovely to be there with her to see the tiny baby. I wanted to be as big a support as I could. She’d need me. Having a baby on your own must be the loneliest thing in the world. I felt emotional just thinking about it. James had been with me every step of the way with Yuri’s adoption and Lara’s early arrival and I had needed him. Babs would need me and, no matter what was going on in my crazy life, I was determined to be there for her.

  The taxi pulled up beside a building with a small, discreet plaque that said ‘Westgate Clinic’. It was tucked away in a little courtyard off Harley Street. I pushed the door open and looked around the reception room. It was dimly lit and had a very sombre feel. I peered about the waiting area for Babs, but I couldn’t see her.

  There was a woman who looked about the same age as me and had her eyes closed, listening to music on her earphones. Opposite her, a young girl was sitting beside an older woman, who I guessed was her mother. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, was sobbing quietly. She looked terrified. The poor thing: having a baby at sixteen would be very difficult. She was practically a baby herself. To the girl’s right there were two women of about thirty. One was holding the other’s hand and kept whispering, ‘It’s for the best.’

  I looked around the room and my eyes fell on a notice board. I moved closer to it and suddenly the penny dropped.

  A door to the left opened and Babs walked out.

  ‘NO!’ I shouted. ‘NO WAY.’

  Babs grabbed my arm and dragged me into a chair beside her. ‘Shut up,’ she hissed.

  I stood straight back up and pulled her to her feet. ‘You’re not doing this.’

  She yanked her hand away. ‘Yes, I am. Now sit the hell down and listen to me, or else leave.’