A Wild Affair: A Novel

by Gemma Townley

  But instead, I just kept on smiling and I ate my eggs and English muffin—particularly the muffin, after my mother pushed her toast to the side and sighed that no one could keep their figure while eating carbs.

  “You don't want your toast?” I asked. “Can I have it then?”

  Sunflowers great. Mother okay.

  My mother opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

  “Jess doesn't have to worry about her figure,” Max said proudly. “Do you, darling? The only girl I know who hasn't gone on some stupid diet for her wedding.”

  “No,” I agreed. “No, I haven't.”

  “Then you're fortunate,” my mother said, taking a sip of her green tea.

  Just okay? No tearful reunion? Clutching each other? Do you need me to choreograph something?

  “I think you make your own fortune in life,” I said. “Don't you?”

  My mother looked at me hesitantly, then she smiled. “Did I hear from Max that you inherited some money? That was very fortunate, wouldn't you say?”

  I stared at her suspiciously. “That's right.”

  “Well, I hope you invest it wisely,” she said lightly.

  “Of course she will,” Max said immediately. “Jess does everything wisely. She's quite incredible. Esther, whether you were there or not to raise her, you have produced a wonderful daughter. You should be very proud.”

  I blushed and my mother smiled bashfully. “Oh,” she said, “I really can't take the credit for that.”

  “But you must,” Max continued. “She is the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's funny, she's clever, she's thoughtful, she's beautiful, and she's the person I trust more than anyone else in the world.”

  “You do?” I asked, a lump appearing in my throat. “Really?”

  Got to go. Madly in love.

  “Really,” Max said, leaning over to kiss me. But instead of feeling reassured, I felt worse, felt like the world was caving in on me. My heart was pounding madly and I could feel beads of sweat appearing on my forehead. I had to talk to Hugh. Had to make it clear that nothing was ever going to happen between us again and, more important, that no one would hear about last night. Had to exorcise him from my memory somehow.

  Desperately, I pulled away. “I need to go,” I said. “To the rest-room,” I explained when I was met by Max's baffled expression.

  He grinned. “For a moment there I was worried. You said that with such finality.”

  I grinned back, though my smile didn't quite reach my eyes. “Won't be long.” I got up and walked toward the ladies' room, not daring to turn around to see if Max and my mother were looking at me. I could barely walk in a straight line; it felt like the walls were crashing in on me. This was guilt, I realized. This was what it felt like to betray the person you love. The person who trusts you more than anything in the world.

  I pushed the door open, ran to a sink, and leaned over it. I stood like that for a few minutes, just letting myself go, collapsing over the soothing, cool porcelain. And then, slowly, I pulled myself upright, splashed some water on my face, glanced warily at myself in the mirror. It wasn't too bad—my eyes were bloodshot but not scarily so; last night's makeup was actually making me look much better than I suspected I looked underneath. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I took a deep breath and then another. And then, once I'd composed myself, I pulled out my mobile phone and dialed Hugh's number.

  To my immense relief, he picked up.

  “Hugh,” I said breathlessly. “It's Jess.”

  “Jess! What a nice surprise. Did you forget something?”

  My mind, I thought to myself. My common sense. “No,” I said firmly. “No, Hugh, I have to tell you something.”

  “Sure. I'm all ears.”

  “I was wrong. About Max. Completely wrong, actually. The wedding's back on. I'm …” I took a deep breath. “I'm hoping that he never has to find out. About us, I mean. Please, Hugh? You understand, right?”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Hugh?” I asked tentatively. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Find out about what?”

  “About last … Oh, right. Yes, exactly. About what.”

  “No, really, sweetie, I've got such a terrible memory these days. What is it I'm meant to be not telling Max?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “That we had a drink together,” I said hesitantly. “And …”

  “And the sleepover?”

  “He can't ever know,” I said breathlessly. “Please, Hugh …”

  “Next you'll be offering me money to keep quiet. What's the going rate these days?”

  I frowned. “I'm sorry?”

  “Oh come on, that's how it goes, isn't it? You offer me money and I promise not to breathe a word.”

  I didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. Was he serious? Did he really expect me to pay him off?

  “You're … I'm sorry, are you asking me for money?”

  “I'm not asking for anything, Jess. It's you who called me, remember?” Hugh said evenly. He sounded angry. Had I insulted him by suggesting he was trying to blackmail me? Or was he insulted because I wasn't offering him any money? I felt myself getting hot and scratchy—everything with Hugh was so opaque. I didn't even know if we'd … done anything. I cringed at the thought.

  “So you won't say anything?”

  “To Max? Jessica, darling, as you well know, Max and I are hardly on close terms. I shouldn't imagine that situation will change in the near future, do you?”

  “No,” I said, my throat suddenly very thick. “No, I shouldn't think it will.”

  “Well then. Is there anything else?”

  “No, I don't think so,” I managed to say.

  “Then until next time.”

  “There won't be a next …,” I started to say, but Hugh had already hung up. I shut my phone and stared at it, allowing my lungs to fill with air before breathing it all out again.

  The door opened and, startled, I dropped my phone and stooped to the ground to pick it up.

  “Everything all right, darling? You've been in here rather a long time.”

  I stood up quickly to see my mother walking in and reddened immediately. “Um, yes. Yes, I … I just got a call.”

  “Good. Your lovely Max is waiting for you. You shouldn't leave him unnecessarily, you know. He's quite a catch.” She walked to the row of sinks, then slowly took out a lipstick and started to apply it carefully. It was bright red, the kind of lipstick I'd never wear, the kind of lipstick Grandma had told me only sluts and tramps wore.

  “Have you always worn that lipstick?”

  She met my eyes in the mirror and smiled. “Yes I have, actually. Would you like to try some? It might work on you, although I'm not quite sure you have the coloring.”

  I shook my head.

  “There are other reds, though,” she said, pressing her lips together and smiling at her reflection. “Why don't we go out this afternoon and buy you some? You could look so pretty with a bit of blusher, a touch of highlighter just here …”

  She reached out to my face and without meaning to, I flinched. She noticed and withdrew her hand immediately. “I'm sorry. I just thought …”

  “Why did you need the money?” I asked. I realized it was the question that I'd wanted to put to her right from the beginning, the question I needed an answer to.

  “The money?” She turned back to her reflection, peering at her face as she dabbed powder on it.

  “The money from Max. What did you need it for?”

  Her eyes flickered back to mine briefly, then returned to her reflection. “For setting up,” she said quietly. “Like Max said.”

  I nodded, biting my lip slightly. “You don't have any more debts? You're not gambling anymore?”

  “Of course not.” Her eyes flickered slightly and she snapped her compact shut. “Darling, Max is very generous. But you have no reason to worry about me. I'm fine. Haven't gamble
d for years.”

  “Good,” I said, giving her one last look. “Good to hear it.”

  Chapter 11

  BY MONDAY MORNING, I had managed to push all memories of my night with Hugh so deep into the recesses of my mind that I had almost convinced myself it was a dream. My mother, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to forget—she'd refused to leave all weekend and had followed me and Max around constantly. I'd had to bite my lip often because she wouldn't stop making little comments, offering suggestions, giving me advice when I hadn't asked for it, on everything from how my things were arranged in Max's apartment, to what I had for breakfast. I wasn't sure how or why, but my mother had unearthed the insolent teenager in me and now that she was out, she wasn't going anywhere. Max had been shooting me quizzical “is everything okay” looks every time I glowered at her, but I had just given him big “I'm fine” smiles. I couldn't face talking to him properly, not after the Hugh incident. And anyway, I was fine. Sort of.

  “You've got post-cheating stress disorder,” Helen explained when I called her from my desk to give her an update and to finally fill her in on what had really happened on Friday night. “That's the first thing.”

  “Post what?”

  “The guilt,” she sighed. “The self-hate. You cheated on Max. You hate yourself. You're taking it out on her because she's there. See?”

  “I suppose,” I said uncomfortably. “So what are the other reasons?”

  “Well, you've probably been a bit hungover. You looked pretty terrible on Saturday morning. And when you've got a hangover it feels like everyone's in your face. Right?”

  “Riiiigght,” I said dubiously. “But I don't usually want to grab lipstick out of people's hands and throw it down the toilet.”

  “Hmmm,” Helen said. “That's not good.”

  I nodded in agreement. “Hel, she's my mother. I'm supposed to love her.”

  And then Helen did something I wasn't expecting. She laughed. “Love her? Oh, Jess. God, I forget, you don't know anything about mothers, do you?”

  “Of course I do,” I said hotly. “I know all about them. Just not, you know, personally …”

  “Sweet Jess,” Helen said. “You don't love your mother. Well you do, but not like you love your mates or your boyfriend or someone like that. You love them like you love a really irritating brother. They piss you off nearly all the time, they interfere, they criticize, they do everything you wouldn't and think you should do the same. But if anyone else criticizes them, you want to smash their face into a brick wall. Okay?”

  My face crumpled in confusion. “I never had a brother, either,” I said helplessly.

  “Look, don't worry about it,” Helen soothed me. “You'll work it out. Just don't expect too much. And there's one other thing.”

  “Yes?” I asked worriedly. I felt like I should be taking notes or something.

  “Remember that eventually you're going to turn into her. So don't give her too much of a hard time. Okay?”

  “What? Hel, I am never going to be anything like my mother,” I protested. “We're as different as two people could possibly be. We're nothing like each other, nothing at all …”

  “Sure you're not,” Helen cut in. “Anyway, got to go. Call me later!”

  I frowned and put the phone down. She was so wrong about me turning into my mother. But the rest of it made a bit of sense. I'd been hoping for too much too soon. We were new to each other, my mother and me. A bit of distance was all that was required. We'd be fine, given a bit of time.

  Of course, Monday meant another meeting with Chester—we were having meetings on a weekly basis these days as the launch to Project Handbag got closer and closer—which meant that I had huge amounts of prep work to do, and lots of papers to pull together. I noticed with relief that Caroline was already at her desk.

  “Hi!” She beamed at me. “So what do you think?”

  “Think?” I looked at her uncertainly. “Think about what?”

  She looked hurt; I stared at her harder. “Your hair?” She shook her head. “Um, something you've done to your face?” I felt like a man, like the typical boyfriend who doesn't notice when his girlfriend has shaved her head or, you know, more likely, tried a new lipstick. “A new lipstick?” I asked weakly.

  “Yes! I knew it would make a difference,” Caroline said happily. “Your mother said it really brings out my eyes.”

  I stared at her uncertainly. “Sorry, Caroline. I thought you just said something about my mother. Must be my hearing.”

  “Your hearing?” Caroline laughed. “You're so funny. Just like her. I can't believe you never mentioned her before. She's amazing, Jess. Really amazing. And such great skin. I bet you're hoping you got her genes.”

  I frowned uncomprehendingly. “You met my mother? How? When?”

  “Darling!” My head shot up to see my mother walking toward me, arms outstretched. “What a lovely place this is. Everyone's made me feel so at home.”

  “They have?” A frozen smile appeared on my face as I let her embrace me. “I mean, great. That's great,” I corrected myself. “So you thought you'd visit?”

  She beamed at me. “Visit, hang out, you know. Max said I should drop by anytime, so here I am!”

  “Sure.” I nodded, the smile still stuck on my face. “Of course, we do have work to do, but I'd be happy to show you around if you'd like?”

  “No need,” my mother trilled. “A lovely man called Gareth has already given me the tour.”

  “Gareth our creative director?”

  My mother shrugged. “Gareth with very nice broad shoulders,” she said, giggling suddenly like a teenager.

  Caroline giggled with her. “He's gorge, isn't he?” she said dreamily.

  “Gay?” my mother asked.

  Caroline nodded sadly. “The best ones always are.”

  I cleared my throat noisily.

  “Apart from Max, of course,” my mother said quickly, shooting a look at Caroline, who agreed vociferously.

  “No,” I said, “that's not what I was clearing my throat about. Look, Mum, it's lovely to see you, but I really do have to do some work now.”

  “Of course you do. You go right ahead,” she said, pulling up a chair. “I won't bother you at all. Pretend I'm not here.”

  I turned to my computer, but it was no use. I turned back again. “The thing is, you are here,” I pointed out.

  “But so are lots of people, and you can work with them around.”

  I couldn't fault my mother's logic.

  “Fine,” I said levelly “Fine.”

  “So you like the lipstick?” Caroline asked.

  I looked at her irritably, then sighed. It wasn't her fault—she didn't know my background; didn't know that my mother had only entered my life two days before. I forced myself to peer at her lips for a second. “Yes, I like it,” I said briskly. “Makes you look …” I searched for a suitable adjective. I wasn't sure “like you're wearing lipstick” was really going to cut it. “Elegant. It makes you look very elegant.”

  “Exactly!” Caroline beamed again. “Just like your mother said. It makes me look more grown-up, doesn't it? More sophisticated.”

  “It certainly does,” my mother interjected. “You look like a woman to be reckoned with.”

  Caroline blushed happily.

  “So,” I said, clapping my hands together, “big meeting today. I need the Project Handbag file updated and I need the detailed schedule. Do we have numbers on the launch event yet? Plus I need the budget sheet from accounts.”

  “Absolutely,” Caroline said seriously, scribbling furiously. “Absolutely no problem at all. I'll get to it right away.”

  “Thanks.” I sat down and turned on my computer.

  “That was brilliant.” I jumped—my mother had wheeled her chair right up behind me and was now peering over my shoulder.

  “Um, thanks,” I said, edging away from her. “Although I didn't really do anything.”

  “You did. I saw you. You
're so authoritative. So impressive. My little girl a senior executive.”

  She was trying to hug me and I squirmed slightly. “I'm not a little girl,” I pointed out. “I'm an account director. And I've got a meeting in just over an hour. A really important one.”

  “A meeting!” It was as if I'd told her I'd made a house out of PLAY-DOH; she had that misty-eyed proud thing that mothers of babies have.

  “Yes, a meeting,” I said levelly “So you're going to have to move your chair.”

  She gave me her doe-eyed look, then shrugged. “If you say so. Is that Max's office?” She stood up and started to make her way over. I quickly jumped up.

  “Actually, you can't just walk in,” I said, grabbing her arm. “I mean, he's really busy. He's the managing director.”

  “I know, darling.” She flashed me a smile and shrugged my hand off her. “And I'm sure he won't mind me interrupting him. I am, after all, going to be his mother-in-law. He's got to stay in my good graces!”

  She laughed, throwing back her head and shaking her hair in a seamless movement; I noticed that everyone in the office had stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

  “Still,” I said tightly. “It would probably be better if you made an appointment.”

  “Appointment? For what?” Max's door opened and he appeared through it, his expression quizzical. Then his face broke into a grin. “Esther! How lovely to see you. Wonderful surprise!”

  She glided over to him and took his hands in hers. “Oh, Max, I've just been admiring your company. It really is just fabulous.”

  Max shrugged bashfully. “Thank you,” he said. “I mean it's very much a team effort …” He trailed off, catching my eye. “So what brings you here? Come to see Jess?”

  “Jess, you, this,” she said dramatically, looking around and motioning to the entire office. “There's so much for me to learn about. So much to discover.”