Puppies Are For Life
Page 17
But, casting one last glance out of the window while thrusting the final batch of test papers into her bag, she saw that the vehicle had been backed crookedly between a hedge and a Honda, half in and half out of a space. And Jan – Simon’s gran – was emerging from the driver’s side.
Natalie’s heart beat fast as she slipped down the stairs and jogged across the car park to meet the visitor – not so much from the small exertion involved as from nervous speculation. What could Jan possibly be doing here? What had brought her back to England? Had Frank – heaven forbid it – suddenly died? Or had something worse still happened to someone in the family … to Simon, perhaps, or – or to Justin … and they were all too distraught to come and break the news to her themselves? Oh God, don’t let it be that!
‘Natalie, how lovely!’ Jan stopped the girl’s momentum with outstretched arms. ‘I was wondering how I’d track you down.’ Her eyes swept the sprawling sixties building of drab concrete and tinted glass. ‘What an enormous school this is. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack, though I’m sure the secretary would have helped me.’
‘I’m not often in this building,’ Natalie said. ‘You were really lucky to catch me.’ Relief had begun to flow through her; Jan didn’t appear to be a bringer of bad tidings. In fact she looked very well – full of her usual confidence. Her woollen hat, which would have resembled a knitted tea cosy on most women her age, looked stylish on her, and her scarf was draped in a chic arrangement about her shoulders. Smiling and exuding L’Aimant, she held Natalie in her grasp while she studied her.
Jan had always had time for Natalie – they shared the same profession, after all – and had taken an interest in her ever since Simon, in his first decent car, had proudly driven her down to his grandparents’ home in Potter’s Bar to show her off. That was three years ago. The two had hit it off immediately, Jan revelling in reliving school life which she badly missed in her retirement, and Natalie lapping up the older woman’s affection like a half-starved stray.
Natalie’s parents had never been close to her. Her father had been a naval officer and they had travelled the world, leaving Natalie at boarding school in England much of the year. By the time they had completed their last tour of duty and settled down, Natalie had started at training college; and the day after she received her teaching diploma they announced that they were to divorce. It was as though they had waited until such time as Natalie had the means with which to support herself before making their announcement; though why they thought she would have been adversely affected by the split was beyond her. Feeling that she hardly even knew them, what they did or did not do made no difference to her at all.
‘Dare I hope that you’ve finished for the day?’ Jan was saying as she finally let Natalie go. She nodded at the straw bag. ‘Or are you dashing off again to extra-mural activities?’
An electric bell sounded somewhere in the building, followed by a rumble of imminent evacuation as chairs were scraped back and desks cleared of work.
Natalie chewed at her lip. She drew her coat more tightly round her. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting a friend …’
‘I badly wanted to talk to you,’ Jan urged. ‘It’s really rather important.’
Something in her tone brought Natalie’s fears back. ‘It’s not Simon, is it? Or Justin? They are all right, aren’t they?’
‘They aren’t hurt or in any danger, if that’s what’s bothering you.’ But Jan’s carefully chosen words hung between them; clearly she knew that all was not well in Natalie and Simon’s relationship, and Natalie quickly changed tack.
‘What are you doing here in England?’ she asked. She cast a grim look up at the sky. ‘I thought the whole idea was to escape the British weather, not to come back for a winter break.’
‘Oh …’ Jan gave a shudder and shook her head. ‘France hasn’t turned out well. I’ll give you a quick run-down on the situation on the way to a rather nice-looking tea shop I noticed out of town.’
Natalie hesitated again, but only for a second. Jan’s coming like this, out of the blue, was not at all convenient, but she could hardly be refused. A reluctant driver – especially of the Volvo because she claimed it was too big for her and was afraid of incurring Frank’s displeasure by scraping its paintwork – Jan had obviously put herself out to make the trip over to Bristol.
So Natalie followed the older woman to her car and silently got in. Lara was bound to be livid, she thought as Jan revved, stalled and flooded the engine. Well, Lara would just have to put up with it.
‘So it was Simon who sent you to see me,’ Natalie said bluntly, sitting back from the corner table at the Little Pantry and folding her arms with an air of disgust.
Jan had just finished explaining how she and Frank came to be living at Upper Heyford in the Hardings’ back garden, so it was pretty obvious that Simon had been bleating to all and sundry about their affairs.
‘Well, yes,’ Jan admitted, flipping up the lid of the stainless steel hot water jug and peering in. She let the lid clatter back in place and topped up the teapot. ‘I’m sure he’d rather not have had to do it, but he seemed to be at the end of his tether.’ She glanced across at Natalie. ‘So do you, if you don’t mind my saying so.’
Natalie was used to Jan calling a spade a spade. Nevertheless she minded very much, but couldn’t find her tongue to say so.
‘I – er –’ Jan went on – ‘wonder whether you’d like to talk things over with someone? Like me, for instance. I’m a very good listener.’ She smiled. ‘And I also happen to be very fond of you. But I think you know that, don’t you?’
Natalie blinked back sudden tears. This she could do without! The least little thing could start her blubbing these days: sentimental films, beautiful tunes; kind words – as much as harsh ones. She was developing into a proper little cry-baby, and she hated it.
But if Jan noticed her fumbling for a tissue and blowing her nose ostentatiously, as if it was only the cold wind that had got to it, she made no comment; she just took over the conversation for a minute or two while Natalie gulped tea and tried to compose herself.
Jan’s next words, however, were enough to start her off again.
‘You’ve produced a sturdy enough little boy, though. He’s been fairly wearing me out, has Justin.’ She let out a puff of breath to demonstrate her exhaustion. ‘Bringing up a baby must be one of the most difficult things in the world, I think, but of course I never had to do it. I don’t know how you young women cope these days, what with your careers to consider as well as the child.’
Natalie thought her skin must have been unzipped, so raw and exposed did she suddenly feel. Further concealment of her emotions was useless: she let them all bubble up from the pit of her stomach and spill over in great wracking sobs. Even a tiny wail escaped her, so that an elderly gentleman at the next table turned round and stared in alarm.
‘Oh dear,’ Jan muttered, surprised at what she’d unleashed. She had thought she was on safe ground, beginning the conversation by talking about babies and things. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if we’d gone somewhere more private for our little talk?’
‘No – no – it’s all right.’ With an effort Natalie pulled herself together. ‘I feel a bit better now. Honestly.’
She looked quite ill, however, with a blotched red nose, pink eyes, and her pale face swollen with tears. There were rings of shadow under her eyes too, and her normally thick, glossy fringe showed signs of neglect.
‘When did you last see a doctor?’ Jan asked baldly.
‘A doctor?’ Natalie attempted a laugh that came out wrong. ‘What would I want a doctor for?’
‘Well I don’t know … they have some uses. Did you have your post-natal check-up, for example?’
‘Of course I did. And everything was as it should be. Nothing wrong at all.’ Natalie regarded the older woman from under her fringe. ‘For someone who’s not had babies of her own you seem to know a lot about it.’
�
�Well, I have had quite a few women friends in my time. And I told you I’m a good listener; what I haven’t heard about the baby-making business would fit on a postage stamp.’
She was silent for a moment, stirring her tea to the accompaniment of several other teaspoons around the tea room and the strains of some slow Vivaldi. A bored waitress strolled past brandishing long silver tongs and pushing a cake trolley with a squeaky wheel. She looked at Jan and Natalie but they both shook their heads, though Jan followed the display with her eyes as it rolled on its way.
‘So it’s something else getting you down, is it?’ she asked when the cakes were out of temptation.
‘I never said anything was getting me down, did I?’
‘No, you never said …’ Jan was tired of beating about the bush. ‘Natalie, do you mind if I ask you something? Something very personal? It concerns this friend of yours – Lara, I think her name is.’
‘Yes, what about her?’ Natalie watched Jan’s face for clues. What had Simon been saying about her friend? Nothing to the good, that was for sure.
‘I don’t know how to put this.’ Jan bit her lip. ‘My generation isn’t used to talking about this sort of thing. When I was your age I swear I didn’t even know it existed …’
Now Natalie was bewildered; she seemed to have lost the thread. ‘Sorry?’ she said, with a frown.
‘Well, you know.’ Jan shifted in her seat. ‘“Sexual orientation” is one of the phrases they trot out. Or perhaps sexual preference.’ She took a breath and came out with it. ‘Is Lara a lesbian, is what I’m trying to get at. And – and –’ but she couldn’t say any more.
And Natalie was too taken aback to speak. She sat clutching her teacup in both hands, the hot china a mild comfort to her as she let Jan’s words sink in. Then she let out a snort that spluttered into a laugh – her first laugh in many weeks, and it threatened to become hysterical.
‘Oh, Jan, you’ve got it all wrong,’ she told her, drying more tears from her eyes, and she forced herself to be serious again. ‘That’s not what Simon’s been thinking, is it? Because he couldn’t be further from the truth. Lara does have a problem with men, it’s true, but only because they ignore her. Secretly I think she’s desperate for a boyfriend, but she – well, she’s not terribly attractive, you see, and on top of that her attitude puts men off; she has strong feminist views. So she pretends she hates all men, and – well, she’s really rather mixed up.’
Jan pressed a hand to her forehead and loosened her scarf a little more. Her hat was making her scalp prickle but if she were to take it off her hair would look a mess. She pressed on with the conversation.
‘I see. At least, I think I do. Lara’s a lonely, awkward soul and you feel sorry for her. Is that it? But that didn’t mean you had to move in with her and keep her company, did it? Not when you had Simon and the baby to consider?’
Natalie felt her face darken. How could she explain? ‘It all seemed to be for the best. I wasn’t up to scratch at work … I was tired but I couldn’t really sleep … I wasn’t even much good with Justin … And when Simon lost his job Lara said …’ She leaned her elbows on the table, squeezed her eyes tight against more tears and put her hands over both her ears. How had she let Lara convince her that she’d be better off without Simon, and that the baby would be better off with him? Was she out of her mind?
‘It was Lara’s suggestion that I get away from it all,’ she finished lamely, ‘to give myself some space.’
‘Oh yes, of course – space.’ Jan’s mouth twisted on the modern buzz-word. And she didn’t need to hear much more; she could fill in the rest for herself. A fine ‘friend’ Lara was, if she had judged the situation correctly.
It sounded as though, jealous of what Natalie had, Lara had been doing her utmost to rob her of it, and Natalie, rendered vulnerable by probable post-natal depression, was putty in her hands. Gentle probing of Natalie confirmed all this – or most of it.
‘I feel so terribly guilty,’ Natalie cried when everything had been dragged out of her. ‘I’m a terrible dreadful mother; I don’t think I even love Justin. And I’ve behaved abominably to Simon at a time when he really needs my support. But how can I support him when I feel I can’t cope myself? Oh, what am I going to do, Jan?’
‘I’ll tell you what you’re going to do.’ Jan’s tone was decisive. ‘First of all you must give me your doctor’s phone number. And then … well, we’ll take it from there.’
CHAPTER 19
The caravan was in darkness and the Volvo missing when Susannah got home from Bristol. Lights were shining in the cottage, but she could derive no comfort from the fact. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing any member of her family – not one of them.
The entire afternoon had been a total waste of time – as well as money – because she never got to speak to Natalie after all. So on top of Paul’s displeasure over her losing her job – and ‘displeasure’ was probably putting it mildly – she would have Simon’s disappointment to contend with. Not to mention Katy in one of her moods.
At length, gathering up her shopping, she went into the cottage via the kitchen door and found the family grouped round the pine table.
And to think, she thought grimly, surveying their accusing faces, that I dared hope for a change of heart.
On the journey home in crawling traffic, jammed between a horse-box and a menacing van, she had pondered the possibility that they might be pleased for her when she told them about doing the mural. They might decide it would be good to have a more interesting wife/mother, now that they’d got used to the idea: an artist in their midst, rather than a pay-clerk …
Pure fantasy, of course. She might have changed, but they certainly hadn’t.
‘You’ve been ages,’ Paul lost no time in informing her. ‘We had to go out and get ourselves a Chinese.’
‘Poor you,’ she grunted unsympathetically, ‘I hope you made sure he was well-cooked.’
Katy pushed a foil dish of congealed remains towards her. ‘Yours is Szechuan Beef.’
‘Yes,’ Simon sniggered from behind his hand, ‘we didn’t like that one much.’
She glared at her tormentors; she was in no mood for badinage, no matter how harmlessly intended.
‘Where have you been all this time?’ Paul wanted to know. ‘Earning another nice lot of overtime?’
‘N-no … I went over to Bristol to see Natalie.’ She dared not look at Simon. ‘But I’m afraid I couldn’t track her down.’
‘Oh, Mu-um!’
‘Well, it isn’t my fault, Simon! I did my best for you.’
Simon’s expression told her it just wasn’t good enough.
‘I went to the school to see if I could meet her coming out – twice, I’ll have you know. Then I went to her friend’s flat and parked outside for ages but neither of them ever turned up. I didn’t know where else to try after that.’
‘There are two separate parts to the school,’ Simon told her in a world-weary tone that implied she surely ought to have known. ‘Natalie normally works in the west block –’
‘That’s where I went.’
‘– but not every day of the week. And today’s her day for meditation. She does that straight from work, with her friend.’
Meditation! a voice shrieked inside Susannah’s head. The girl had time to swan around meditating while others were left holding the baby? She felt too stunned to explode.
It was then that Katy noticed the shopping bag, still dangling from her mother’s wrist.
‘Ooh! You’ve bought something nice,’ she said, pointing at the bag. ‘Is there anything in there for me?’
Susannah closed her eyes. ‘No. No, there isn’t, Katy. I’m sorry, I –’ But why on earth should she apologise? She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She knew it was all going to come out far from the way she’d planned it, but – well, what the hell.
‘Actually,’ she told them, ‘I’ve been thoroughly and unashamedly selfish. And I really
don’t give a damn. Today I bought myself two expensive dresses that I don’t need; I informed Mr Webb that I’d be doing his mural, no matter what; and I told Mr Duffy where to get off. Oh, and I had a whole cream eclair in the coffee shop. Entirely to myself. Now, does anyone have any objections?’
But if they had she didn’t wait around to hear them. She ran upstairs to get changed.
‘What exactly was it you told Duffy?’ Paul asked before she’d even discarded her coat. He’d abandoned his bag of prawn crackers and shot upstairs after her to their room.
‘To stuff the——job,’ she replied calmly, inserting a suitably unpleasant adjective that was guaranteed to make his ears go red. Paul hated to hear her using bad language.
‘You told him to …? You didn’t!’
‘I did.’
‘And what did he say to that?’
She undid her skirt and stepped out of it. ‘Not much he could say, was there? Anyway, I hardly gave him the chance to say anything. I walked right out and left him to it.’
‘You mean … you’ve actually lost your job?’
‘I mean precisely that.’
Paul took a step towards her. ‘You’ve thrown away a perfectly good job? When your children would give their eye teeth …? And on top of that you come home flaunting two brand new frivolous dresses?’
‘It was my money I was spending! Mine! My uncle left it to me. He left me five hundred pounds, if you must know.’
Paul’s eyebrows disappeared. ‘Well, you’ve kept damned quiet about that. But it’s your money now, is it? Since when did we cease to share? And if it’s each to his own from now on, how far do you think you’re going to get on five hundred measly quid? Especially if you’re going to squander it on clothes left right and centre. Oh, but I forgot: you’ll be getting paid for the mural, won’t you? That should help a whole lot.’
‘It’s a start, Paul, a start. Everyone has to start somewhere. Even –’ she raked up an idol of his that came in useful from time to time – ‘even Margaret Thatcher! And I bet Denis wasn’t an old meanie during her early career. I bet he gave her his full support.’