‘Hello Mum,’ she said as she rose from her chair and stepped towards Connie. She threw her arms around her mother and squeezed tight. ‘Hey, you’ve lost weight.’
‘Just a bit,’ said Connie.
‘I can’t remember the last time I saw you in trousers and a shirt. You look great,’ Jane said, holding her mother at arm’s length to study her.
‘It’s only from Dorothy Perkins,’ laughed Connie. She had taken Della’s advice and bought herself something that fitted rather than flowed around her and was surprised to find she was right, it suited her much better. Still she wore her big old dresses around the house though so that Jimmy wouldn’t notice any changes in her. Connie Diamond was transforming daily, morphing from a barely visible plant into a bold, bonny flower. She wasn’t only losing weight, she was gaining confidence and that made her walk taller. Her skin was fresher, her eyes were brighter. If Jimmy had really looked at his wife the way his daughter was doing, he would have seen all this.
They sat down and Jane reached across the table and gripped her mother’s hand.
‘I was going to wait to tell you, but I can’t. Mum, I’m pregnant.’
Connie heard the words but they didn’t sink in immediately. Then, when they did she leapt out of her seat and hugged her daughter with all her might, kissing her cheek madly.
They were both crying and laughing when they sat back down again.
‘Oh my goodness, how many months gone are you?’
‘Thirteen weeks. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone until I was past the twelve-week mark and I didn’t want to tell anyone before I told you. Anders told his parents yesterday and they’re over the moon. This will be their first grandchild too.’
‘And Anders? Is he happy?’ Connie had only met Anders once and found him rather serious, but Jane said he was nervous on that occasion.
‘Oh Mum, he’s like a puppy. He’s gone mad. I wouldn’t let him start decorating a nursery until last week and he’s nearly finished it. I hope this means you’ll come over and visit more.’
‘I’d love to,’ said Connie. The thought of a little baby in the family that she wouldn’t see often was awful. ‘I’ll have to tell your father.’
Jane’s smile dried up and she shrugged. ‘If you must. I can’t think it will make much difference. I’ve survived without him this long.’ She saw a cloud of sadness pass across her mother’s features. ‘Mum, don’t worry. I know you’d like a perfect world where we’re all one big happy family but we aren’t and we never have been. Just because Dad and I are linked by blood, it doesn’t automatically make us care for each other, you know. But I promise you, I am going to make sure my little baby feels treasured. Like you made me feel.’
‘Did I? Did I, Jane?’
Jane thought of the joy she used to feel on stage at school, scanning the audience and seeing her mum’s lovely golden hair. She wouldn’t ever say this to her mother in case it hurt her, but she’d wanted to see her daddy more in the early days, except he never came. Then one day she didn’t even try and spot him because she knew he wouldn’t be there, though it took her a lot of years before it stopped upsetting her. She always felt her father’s duty to her had ended at her conception. She didn’t want that for her own child.
‘Yes, Mum, you did.’
‘A baby,’ sighed Connie wistfully. ‘Was it a surprise?’
‘We’ve been trying for a year. I was starting to wonder if there was something wrong, then my period was late and I took a test and Bob’s your uncle. We’re both very happy. Anders says we should get married. I’m in no rush.’
Connie didn’t try to persuade her daughter otherwise. How could she when she was no role model for what a happy marriage should entail?
Jane waved her mum off at the train station with a cheerful smile hiding so much behind it. Her dad had a grin and patter for everyone but those closest to him, who were entrenched in a cold moat of invisibility. She knew her dad was a dog. She’d seen him in action, when he thought she was too young to make sense of it. Jane was wise beyond her years and she’d known that her life would be easier for cutting out her father, at least for a while. The fact that he’d made no fuss when she did it told her she’d been right. She loved her mother very much and knew she deserved so much more than the crumbs her father threw her from his table. In short, Jane had been waiting the whole of her young life for her father to grow up.
*
When Jimmy arrived home that night, looking distinctly dry for someone who had been supposedly golfing on a day with heavy intermittent showers, Connie told him the news about their daughter, although she didn’t say they had spent the afternoon together.
‘Jane rang. She and Anders are having a baby.’ She didn’t expect him to run to the cupboard to hunt for party poppers but his cold reaction stunned even her.
‘She’s only twenty-two. Hasn’t she learned anything?’ he said, before walking upstairs to change out of his Rupert Bear trousers.
Chapter 63
Frustratingly there was no more news in the local papers over the weekend about the collapse of Brambles as their pages were taken up with bigger, grittier stories: a soldier from Sheffield killed in Syria, a big budget Hollywood blockbuster being filmed in Leeds and yet another politician flashing his bits to an undercover Daily Trumpet reporter masquerading as a dolly bird on Skype. Not that there could be much more to the story than the relevant facts: Lance was unscathed and the house was gone. Cheryl wondered if it would still have been standing if the new will had been found and she had moved in. Lance wouldn’t be too inconvenienced, she surmised. The insurance would cough up and enable him to build something swanky and renew all his possessions. The devil really did look after his own, she decided.
She had been assigned a Monday morning gentleman who would be out working when she cleaned, and as Miss Molloy was in Harrogate today, it was going to be quite a lonely day. The gentleman lived on the same estate as the Gladstones and Cheryl just hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t bump into any of them. She hadn’t seen Gary since they split and she had no idea how she would react if she saw him, especially if he was with another woman.
Unless she made a quarter of a mile detour to avoid it, she had to pass Ann Gladstone’s house to get to her client’s. Cheryl kept her eyes forward and resisted any attempt to look at her old car parked outside or to see if there was anyone in view in the large picture window of Ann’s front room. She imagined Ann, Gary and his new bird clustered behind the Venetian blinds pointing and sniggering and her heart began to bounce as if that was reality and not her brain torturing her. It was odd to think that she would never again go up the path to Ann’s house, kick off her shoes, put on the kettle and sit and watch the TV with her as if she were part of the family. Now Chartreuse would occupy her regular place on Ann’s sofa and they would be all labelling her a jinx. Where did all that love and affection go when relationships were severed? she thought. Or, cut off from its blood supply, did a chemical reaction sour it to hate? Please let me have some more time to get used to all this, God, she whispered skywards. Before I see a baby seat in the back of his car.
*
When Ivanka flipped over the page of her desk-top calendar, in readiness for the new month ahead, Della noticed there was a circle around 17 April. And lots of gold stars.
‘What’s that for?’ she asked. ‘You’ve got the seventeenth marked up very heavily.’
Caught on the hop, Ivanka studied the calendar as if to remind herself. ‘Oh, it’s the end of Lent,’ she said, with enforced casualness.
‘And did you give anything up for Lent?’
‘Alcohol,’ Ivanka said quickly.
‘I suppose you didn’t give anything up for Lent, Jimmy,’ Della laughed.
‘I gave up Lent for Lent,’ he said, not turning round from his position at the photocopier. His back was stiff and his voice was snappy.
‘I thought you didn’t drink that much anyway, Ivanka,’ Della said.
That’s a hell of an important red ring around the seventeenth to mark the end of giving something up you don’t really like, thought Della, itching to phone Connie and tell her what she thought it all might mean.
*
Connie had just finished interviewing a potential cleaner, who wasn’t suitable at all. She had dirt in her fingernails and teeth that hadn’t seen a brush and some Colgate in a long time. If she couldn’t keep herself in order, it wasn’t the best advertisement for her cleaning skills, she thought. She needed a flood of fabulous women with an established client base to come through her doors, but so far they hadn’t.
Her secret mobile rang just after twelve and it was Della who was calling her from her car parked outside a sandwich shop.
‘I think we need to get even more of a move on,’ she said, diving in without the usual ‘hello, how are you’s. ‘I believe that Mr Excrement may have a date with Miss Fan on the seventeenth.’
‘Why, what makes you think that?’
‘Something important is happening for Ivanka on the seventeenth, she’s circled it on her calendar and drawn little gold stars at the side. I know it sounds weak, but she was lying when I asked her about it. And Jimmy seemed furious that I’d picked up on it. I hate to say this, Connie, but my woman’s intuition tells me that . . . oh dear, I hate saying this . . . that . . .’
‘That Jimmy is going to walk out on me that day.’
There was a sympathetic pause before Della said, ‘Yes.’
‘Then I have to move things forward from May Day. The seventeeth, you say?’
Connie sounded super-calm, thought Della. Her admiration for her was growing daily.
‘That’s right,’ she said.
‘Hell fire, that’s just over two weeks away, Della. How can we bring down his kingdom in a fortnight?’
This was all starting to look even more stupid than ever. And Connie should have known herself better. There was no way she could have pretended to herself that if this new company folded and she had to let anyone go who had joined her in complete faith, she would be able to do so with a clear conscience and a cold heart.
‘I don’t know,’ said Della, ‘but as I’ve thrown my hand in with you, we’re going to have to give it a bloody good try.’
*
‘Are you out of your tiny, frigging, Polish mind?’ asked Jimmy, as soon as he saw that Della’s Clio was safely out of the car park. ‘Why didn’t you just write all over the walls and your forehead that I’m going to be leaving Connie in two weeks? Better still, why not take a front page advert out in the Daily Trumpet? Or maybe you’d like me to ring up and rent a town crier for you. “Oyez, oyez, Jimmy Diamond dumps wife for mistress on the seventeenth of April”.’
Ivanka sat stiff-backed and silent in her chair, her mouth a defiant pout of indignation.
‘How can a small circle around a number say all that?’ she said, as poised as he was manic.
‘That is such a girl thing to do.’ Jimmy lunged towards the calendar and snatched it up to slap it with the back of his hand. ‘How is that a small circle? It’s a bloody big, bright red circle with great neon gold stars. It says “This is a day when something fabulous happens.” This does not say “Hurrah I can start drinking stuff again that I don’t drink anyway.” A small black circle might say that, not a fucking super-massive red circle and bastard gold stars.’
Ivanka remained cool. ‘It’s a mark on a calendar. You’re being dramatic.’
‘I’d rather be dramatic than stupid,’ Jimmy barked.
‘You are being stupid by not ringing Mr Frog and ensuring that you buy his company whilst it is on the market,’ Ivanka humphed.
‘Well, I’m not. I’m smoking him out. Even Connie thinks I should.’
Ivanka’s eyes narrowed nastily. ‘Oh, you listen to your wife but not me?’
‘Connie knows what she’s talking about. She set this company up with me, don’t forget.’
Ivanka curled up her surgically inflated top lip. ‘Connie Connie Connie. Maybe you should stay with your fat little wife then if she is so important.’
‘Maybe I fucking well should!’ Jimmy bellowed.
‘Don’t swear at me, Jimmy,’ she said. ‘I hate swearing and shouting and you do it a lot.’
‘Is there any fucking wonder,’ he replied, deliberately using a fierce expletive. ‘Our horse is nearly home and dry. It’s galloped, nay flown, safely, clearly over hundreds of fences and it’s as if you’re the jockey who’s just pulled it up yards before the finish line, stood on top of your saddle and announced to the world that we’ve bloody given it amphetamines.’
Ivanka’s face was creased in confusion. She hadn’t a clue what Jimmy was talking about, but what she did know was that he was shouting and talking to her disrespectfully and she could stop that in an instant with her trump card.
‘Don’t forget, Jimmy, that I have a one-way ticket to Krakow and I will use it,’ she said with a triumphant sneer.
Jimmy, who’d had time to think about this threat since she used it on him before, stabbed his finger at her, ‘And don’t you forget, Ivanka, that however much you flap that ticket at me, I know you won’t be able to go back to a life with no money in it. Even if you went, it would only cost you twenty bloody quid to get back here again with EasyJet.’
He threw his hands up in the air and laughed. ‘Actually, go back if you want then, and marry a cabbage farmer. If you don’t keep your gob shut and Connie finds out and plays really hard ball, he’ll be richer than me anyway.’
Ivanka shut up.
Chapter 64
Mr Savant was in an odd mood on Wednesday morning, thought Connie. He’d greeted her at the door with an effusiveness that was totally out of character from what she had seen and heard from him so far. At least he wasn’t flirting with her. Then again, no man alive would flirt with her in what she had on: one of her shapeless dresses, which was now looser than ever and only fit for cleaning in.
She wished he would turn his music down. Today it was all crash-bang cymbals and horns and very heavy on the ear. But he didn’t. He went into the sitting room, sat in his chair and, eyes closed, appeared to be conducting an imaginary orchestra with his index fingers whilst Connie cleaned. It was giving her a headache and she took two paracetamol out of her handbag.
‘Please feel free to make yourself a hot drink,’ said Mr Savant, appearing suddenly behind her as she turned on the sink tap to fill up a glass with water. ‘Sorry, Marilyn, did I startle you?’
‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ said Connie, patting her chest in an attempt to still her shocked heartbeat. He must have teleported from the sitting room, she thought.
‘I insist you take a break. And have something from the refrigerator.’ He walked over to the fridge and opened the door to show her what was there, and once again it was crammed with cakes. ‘They’ll only go to waste if you don’t.’
They’ll go to my waist if I do, thought Connie and she didn’t want that. She liked the feeling of being lighter and having more energy.
‘Come and have a look, Marilyn.’ He beckoned her over and she stood awkwardly between him and the fridge, staring at the gateaux and pastries taking up every shelf. She could smell brandy on his breath which wafted over her from behind.
‘My, you always have so many cakes,’ said Connie, feeling uncomfortable.
‘My niece works in a bakery,’ Mr Savant replied. ‘At the end of each day, they give her all the leftover cakes which were made that morning so they’re still very fresh. And she brings them to me for any visitors I might have.’
‘Well, you’re very lucky, Mr Savant,’ said Connie, thinking that it was a bit odd. They must end up in the bin anyway. He couldn’t possibly eat them all and she doubted he had that many visitors. ‘Which bakery does she work at?’
&nb
sp; ‘I forget the name,’ he said. ‘It’s somewhere near Wakefield.’
‘And she comes every day?’
Surely not. Which niece came every night after work to drop off a sackful of cream cakes for her uncle?
‘Most days,’ he said. He seemed even closer behind her now. ‘It’s on her way home.’
‘That’s very sweet of her,’ said Connie, turning suddenly after feeling the heat of his breath on the back of her head. She hoped she wouldn’t have to employ the nut-crushing services of Astrid on him. ‘Anyway, I appreciate the offer, but I had a big breakfast this morning, thank you.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, don’t bother asking, please help yourself,’ he said, walking across to the door, where he turned, smiled gently and said, ‘You’re very comely, Marilyn,’ before going back to the lounge.
Poor old soul, thought Connie, feeling slightly foolish that she’d thought he might be trying it on with her. He was lonely and, from the look of his wife, she obviously enjoyed a cream bun or two: perhaps he missed nourishing someone, that was all. She wondered if she would feel lonely when her marriage formally ended. Then again, hadn’t she always?
Chapter 65
The air in Brandon’s hallway was filled with the smells of rum and pineapple which battled to take precedence.
‘In here,’ called Brandon, urgently. ‘Quick, Marilyn.’
She dropped her bags and rushed in, still wearing her coat, expecting to see him lying on the floor with a broken leg, but he was perfectly well and adding chocolate chips to the tempering machine.
‘Lord above, I thought something was wrong,’ Connie gasped. ‘You sounded desperate.’
‘I am desperate. Throw me some glamorous Hollywood actress names,’ he demanded.
‘Er . . . Halle Berry . . . Demi Moore . . . Sigourney Wea—’ Connie reeled off.
Afternoon Tea at the Sunflower Café Page 26
