Darren’s gaze penetrated her tired bloodshot eyes.
“Ditto, Roni. I see exactly what you see, but I also see the woman who will be reborn out of acceptance of who you are and what you are. You’ve just mapped out your own life, Veronica. You have just shown yourself by your own admission the person you want to be.”
Roni blinked and giant tears fell onto her soft pink cheeks. No-one had ever seen the promise in her like Darren. He had brought to light her failings without ever saying the words but he had left her to route her own course in life without any intervention. He was making her do the work.
“Why did you sleep with me if you saw the bad stuff?”
“Because I saw the good stuff too – trying desperately to escape – and believe it or not I didn’t plan to sleep with you, Roni, but I did want to make you feel wanted, womanly and beautiful . . . just like you are. I’ll never regret it.”
Roni considered his words. There was something mystical about him, too insightful for a man of his young years. It was like Darren had been here before, in a past life. How else could he know so much when he had barely begun to live his own?
“It worked,” Roni sniffed. “I do feel good actually. Better than I’ve felt in years. I feel oddly revived but strange at the same time . . . I look in the mirror and I see me but I don’t feel like me.”
“What do you feel like?”
“I feel better than me.”
Darren took long gulps of carrot juice, setting down the empty glass.
“And it shows . . . you know, I think my work here is done. I can do nothing more for you than you can do yourself. Keep practising what I’ve taught you and keep reminding yourself what you have learned for yourself, Roni. You did all the work here, not me. Remember that.”
Roni nodded. She was afraid to speak for fear she might cry.
“Life is wasted on the living, Roni. Don’t let your epitaph be that.”
Darren stood to go. His face was taut as he stared down at the complicated woman below him.
“You’ll always be the lady of the house in my eyes, Veronica Smyth.”
The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to force a smile upon her face, fighting back the tears. No man had ever made her feel so alive, so accepted like he had. Because she had never allowed them to.
“And you’ll always be the man who saved my life.”
Kath raced through the salon followed by James. It had been a while since the telephone rang, spilling troubled news and her gut flipped as she prophesised her youngest son’s latest scrape. Sophie had been through enough lately and Kath only hoped nothing had been done to her. She hoped his sticky fingers had not been near the tills.
Jason kept his head down upon hearing the scurry of feet, the familiar squeak of his mother’s trainers across the tiled floor. Karl stood to go on hearing their arrival but not before he extended his hand which Jason grabbed, his face pleading with him to stay.
“Good luck, mate . . . not that you’ll need it.”
Karl stood back as Kath and James brushed past him, stopping dead at the sorry sight of their son whose eyes were glued to the floor. He had no place here now. Jason was with his family and they needed privacy.
“What’s going on, Jason?” Kath was angry. She was in the middle of teaching her weekly Yoga class when Sophie had rang Marina – The Hamptons’ manager – advising her of a family emergency and Kath had sped home in a taxi, picking up James before heading on to Sophie’s salon. He was still on compassionate leave.
Sophie pulled out chairs for them to sit on. One either side of Jason.
“It was me who called you here, not Jason, and he’s done nothing wrong. Not that I know of anyway.” Sophie winked at Jason as he dared to make eye contact. “Right, I’ll leave you to it. Give me a shout if you need anything.”
James sat with his arms folded, his mouth tight and his forehead contorted with a deep frown.
“I buried my mother last week, son. This had better be good.”
Suddenly, Jason felt closed in. Trapped and in need of air. He stood up, moving away from the leaking emotions of his parents into a part of the kitchen which was free from contamination.
“I’m not in any trouble, Mum and Dad. I promise you,” he told them, staring at his starched white trainers. “I know I’ve taken money from you and I swear I’ll pay you back every penny . . . every penny. I . . . just I couldn’t do the jobs you wanted me to do, they weren’t me so I, erm . . . I pretended to go to work every day but I had no money and I didn’t think you’d miss a few bob here and there. It was more a cover-up than anything else.”
Kath uncrossed her legs, sipping on the glass of water Sophie had left before she made a sharp exit.
“It was more than a few bob. Now will you please tell us what is going on, Jason?”
He swallowed hard, ignoring his racing heart that made his head dizzy and his legs light. The room closed in on him and he felt like he could pass out any minute but he had to do this. It was now or never.
“Mum, Dad . . . I’m . . . I’m . . . gay,” he muttered, focusing once more on the floor, not daring to witness the expressions of the parents he was about to truly let down.
Kath looked from her son to James and from James back to her son before breaking into a soft smile.
“Is that it, love?”
She flung her arms into the air as the relief washed over her.
“Wh . . . what do you mean ‘Is that it’? I’m telling you I’m gay . . . coming out of the closet.” Jason shook his head. Perhaps they didn’t understand what he was telling them.
James leapt up and embraced his son with both arms. He held him tightly, squeezing him with all the love only a father could give his son.
“We know what ‘gay’ is, Jason. We’re not that backwards.” He stood back, taking in his son with his fierce bravery. He took after his mother, there was no disputing that. “But what you are in that respect is of no consequence to us, no consequence whatsoever, son. Criminal behaviour, stealing, all that stuff is unforgiveable . . . you turning out to be gay isn’t.” James paused. “I’m not going to lie to you . . . I’d prefer it if you weren’t, I really would, and in many ways I think life would be much easier for you lot . . .”
Kath cast him a sharp dagger.
“Sorry, not ‘you lot’ – I meant you. But you are what you are and there’s not a damn thing that anyone can do about it.” James shook his shoulders a little too ferociously as he completed his declaration. “But we love you. Do you hear me? We love you and that’s all that matters. You’re my son now and you will be my son until the day I die and I want nothing more than for you to be by my side where you belong.”
Kath stood back, watching the two generations sink into one another without any awkwardness.
Her family was made from the best of blood, its thickness glued them together, bonding them unlike any other family unit because of what had happened to them. As a mother, Kath’s compulsive approach was all down to the actions of a bitter, twisted woman, but as she watched the men effortlessly embrace she knew she had the last laugh.
“Can I get in there, please. He’s our son, Jim. I should know, I was sick for the whole nine months I carried him.”
James rolled his eyes, winking at Jason.
“Don’t I know it. I’ll never hear the last of it!”
Kath squeezed in between them, joining the family hug until Jason lifted his head from her shoulder where it had been resting. It had been a long time since he felt able to embrace his parents – or anyone else. Avoidance had become a part of his life for many years now and with it came the inability to be touched by either man or woman. He felt like a little boy again safe in the arms of his adoring mother.
“The burglary, Jason. Did you do it? It’s confession time today.”
Jason made the Sign of the Cross.
“I swear on my life that I didn’t do either of them. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time . . . that
’s all I’m guilty of, honest, Mum.”
Kath let out a huge breath of relief. The difficulties of late were turning themselves around.
“I’ve got some other news, Mum and Dad!”
“I think I need a drink, Jim. There’s only so much news a person can take in one day!”
Jason threw back his head and laughed. His eyes danced with relief and he felt light and free. Understood. Moreso, he understood himself. He didn’t fancy women, never had, but when he looked at a man – even the boys from his school days – his thoughts carried impurities that Jason had considered evil – downright wrong. In a way it still was, he thought, but there was a name for it now and the taboo of homosexuality was dispersing fast. To some, it was almost a fashion statement. Not to him though.
“I’ve got a job.”
James thumped him on the back.
“Congratulations, son. Where?”
Jason gathered up the glasses and began filling the sink.
“Here,” he declared proudly. “Sophie is giving me a job. I’m on probation for three months and if it works she’s going to put me through The Academy until I’m a fully trained stylist.”
Kath burst into tears. Overnight her son had turned from a confused, rebellious boy whose life carried nothing but a contentious future, into a confident man whose prospective was looking up by the moment. She didn’t care about his sexual preference, not one bit. She never would.
Helena stared at the contract Maggie had given her. The annual salary screamed out to her and Helena knew it could put her on the property ladder where she could start again with financial independence. But she couldn’t sign it. She didn’t deserve to because there were things she had to put right. Things she had done which were very wrong that needed correcting.
Helena dialled Sophie’s number as tears of shame rolled down her face. How could she have done it to them? Innocent people who had worked hard and saved hard their whole lives?
“What’s up, Hel?” Sophie answered in bright, cheery tones. She was happy that the Hamiltons’ situation had ended well and the world was a brighter place because of it.
Helena sobbed uncontrollably. She couldn’t talk.
“Helena – what’s wrong – talk to me. What on earth has happened that’s got you like this?”
Helena pulled a tissue from her navy work trousers which fitted her better as the weeks had gone by. The waistline no longer hung down past her emaciated hips.
“I’m a crim – inal!” she cried. “I ne–ed help ple–ease!”
“What have you done, Helena?” Sophie’s voice was calm but authoritative.
Helena held the phone to her ear as she sat in the corner of the rundown coffee shop, facing the wall. Her untouched coffee was stone cold. She didn’t know where else to turn, to go to, so she chose a rundown cafe where she wouldn’t risk seeing anybody she knew. And then she broke down.
“I – I’ve been lau–dering mo–ney from the old pe–ople in the ba–aank,” she blurted in as hushed a tone as was possible given her lack of vocal control. She was lucky, the place was empty, completely empty hence her reason for choosing it. “I ne–eed to pay it ba–ack . . . I thi–nk I’ve been fo–und out.”
“It was you, wasn’t it? Something illicit?”
Helena nodded and Sophie took the silence to be an admission.
“I had my suspicions about you, Hel – you threw so much money around that I often wondered where you were getting it from . . . now I know . . . you stupid cow.”
Helena blew her nose on the already soaked-through tissue, ignoring the concerned look from the waitress who smiled at her kindly from the far side of the grotty joint.
“I ne–ever meant to do it . . . it was Na–than who sta–arted it. He ma–ade me do i–it,” she hiccuped, grabbing a clean napkin from the red plastic container. “It’s all his fault.”
Sophie grabbed her keys, shoving them into the pocket of her biker jacket. Her sandwich would have to wait until later for the second time today.
“Look, that doesn’t matter now – just meet me at the flat right away, do you understand?”
“Okay.”
“Stupid, stupid, girl,” Sophie muttered to herself as the enormity of Helena’s confession sank in.
She ran to the front of the shop towards Karl where she whispered in his ear. His jaw dropped as he took in the news, the kind which generally appears in the newspapers or on the television. It wasn’t a piece of news that belonged to him and his set of friends. Least, it shouldn’t have.
Sophie opened the till and lifted the coin tray, pulled out a cheque book from underneath it and began scribbling on the Payee line before adding her messy signature to the bottom of it.
“I’m going to sign the cheque, Karl, but I’ll leave the amount blank. Head over to the bank as quick as you can and I’ll text you with the details of how much I need you to withdraw.” Sophie spoke in hushed tones, tearing the cheque from its book. She handed it to Karl.
“Consider it done.”
“If it’s more than five grand you’ll need your ID.”
Karl pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his low-hung combats, pulling his V-necked black T-shirt back down to cover the top of his waisband. He flashed his driving licence at Sophie who grabbed his arm, kissing him on the cheek.
Karl held Sophie close to him for a minute, inhaling a concoction of smells from hair conditioner to body cream and once again something in him stirred for this blonde bombshell whose life, it seemed, was being taken over by the mistakes of others. She had barely laid her own ghosts to rest.
“I can’t believe the day, can you?” he whispered.
Sophie shook her head, smiling weakly, but behind her Caribbean-sea eyes Karl could see she was vexed about the state of her best friend.
“I picked a bad bunch, didn’t I?”
“You wouldn’t have them any other way, surely?” Karl coaxed her as he folded the cheque neatly, shoving it deep into his pocket.
Sophie said nothing as she headed towards the salon door.
“Sophie.”
She turned impatiently. She had things to do, lives to fix.
“I wouldn’t have you any other way. You know that, don’t you?”
Sophie’s knees trembled at the dulcet tone which carried words of such sincerity from the lips of the man who had been her trusted friend, her ally. She stared deep into his smoky-grey eyes, marvelling at the stark blackness of his eyelashes and thick but neatly groomed eyebrows.
“You too,” Sophie exhaled as the words left her. She swallowed hard as she looked at Karl in a way she had never thought to look at him before. Handsome he was, truly, but at that moment as she took him in from head to toe Sophie felt winded and unable to breathe. She needed fresh air.
“Hi, Mum.”
Anna jumped up from the kitchen table, leaving her homework to embrace her mother.
“Hello, darling.”
Jude clung to Anna stroking her hair, just as her mother had done to her when she was a child – still did. Jude kissed her forehead without the need to stoop down.
“Where’s Tom?”
Anna released her grip and returned to her homework. She would fly through it which would give her more time to spend with Polly, her beloved pony, with whom to date she had shared all her worldly secrets.
“He and Dad went out to see a man about a dog.”
Jude chuckled to hear her daughter using such euphemisms. It was easy to forget that Anna was coming up sixteen and was almost an adult.
“Anna Westbury, you do make me laugh. Where is he really?”
Anna grinned knowingly. “He and Dad have gone out to do stuff for your birthday but that’s as much as I am prepared to divulge without killing you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Jude nodded with a straight face before breaking into a watery smile. Admist the chaos of trying to balance her work, temporary as it was, with the endless domestic chores Jude had almost forgotten about her birthday
. “I’m sure forty sounds so old to you, doesn’t it, darling?”
Anna spun around to face Jude.
“Not really, Mum. Lots of my friends’ mums are already forty – Lottie’s mum is fifty . . . and that is old. It’s good that you had us young actually because you look so slim and pretty and I know you’ll never let me down at school.” She chewed the end of her pen thoughtfully. “There aren’t too many fat mums at the school actually . . . but you’re definitely the fittest and all the boys in my class fancy you.”
Jude pulled open the fridge, removing a fillet of pork from the chiller cabinet.
“Do they now?”
She was always amazed at how childlike Anna was in general conversation given her academic achievements. Anna was top of the top in all subjects. She excelled at everything with minimum effort yet her unaffected charm kept her from arrogant gloating. Anna just got on with life, did what she had to do and never complained. At least she hadn’t until Jude had presented her with a weekly list of jobs. Tom took his list willingly, anything to help his mother, but Anna needed a little more coercion as she set about dusting her bedroom, huffing loudly. She was a princess and princesses didn’t clean. She was certainly daddy’s little princess.
“Did Grandma call?”
“No.”
Jude ripped at the plastic removing the pork loin which she placed on a small granite chopping board which blended with the matching worktops. She grabbed a Sabatier knife, slicing the meat expertly into two-inch-thick medallions.
She was still upset about the exchange she had with her mother. Times had changed and Jude felt that her mother wanted time to stand still and for her to behave as a carbon copy of her. But she was more like her father, receptive to change, eager to learn and willing to grab an opportunity before it raced past her. And she had. But it would soon be let go and Jude knew that a piece of her would go with it.
“What do you want for your birthday, Mum?” Anna called out with her back to Jude, scribbling away furiously. “I’ve been saving for ages to get you something really great.”
Jude didn’t answer. What she wanted was a career. She’d had it for a couple of years before she fell pregnant and she had showed promise – even she could see that.
Some Like it Hot Page 31
