Me and Mr Jones

by Lucy Diamond

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Typical. The one afternoon Lilian actually admitted defeat and took to her bed, the whole house of cards collapsed around her. Her head had been throbbing constantly since she’d got up that morning, the pain pinching her temples so hard and tight she could hardly see. Somehow she’d managed to call Alicia and beg her to buy in the groceries they needed (vaguely registering that Alicia seemed uncharacteristically irritable at the request), then closed the bedroom curtains and collapsed back into bed, plunging into a troubled sleep.

  Some hours later she woke to the sound of shouting downstairs. Eddie’s voice, rising to a wail. ‘Where are you?’ he called. ‘Where is everyone?’

  Instantly she sprang from the bed, adrenalin shocking her fully awake. Downstairs her husband was wild-eyed and holding out a bleeding hand, which dripped onto the kitchen floor. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she cried, rushing over to examine it. ‘What did you do? How did this happen?’

  ‘I was putting away the …’ He paused, his eyes clouding over. ‘The …’

  ‘You were putting away the … ?’ she prompted, trying to keep her patience, although panic was spiralling inside her. ‘Come on, let’s rinse this while you think.’

  She led him to the sink and turned on the cold tap, letting the water wash the cut. It didn’t look too deep, thankfully; she didn’t think it needed stitches. Blood swirled into the stream of water, the vivid scarlet becoming pale pink and then clear as it disappeared down the plughole.

  ‘The grass-cutter,’ he said eventually. ‘I was putting it away.’

  ‘The lawnmower?’ she suggested, her mind sifting through all the sharp implements in the shed – once useful, now each a threat. ‘Oh, Eddie. I thought you were going to wait for David to help?’

  ‘Emma came,’ he remembered, as she turned the tap off and gingerly patted his hand dry with a folded square of kitchen roll.

  ‘Emma – oh goodness, I’d forgotten she was coming today.’ Another thing to flap about. Lilian wasn’t sure she was up to more visitors right now, particularly Emma, who always seemed to be turning up her nose. Her headache slammed back with a vengeance as she tried to remember what she’d planned to cook that night. And what had happened to her groceries anyway?

  There, see? she reprimanded herself as she carefully bandaged her husband’s hand. This is what happens when you go to bed in the middle of the day, Lilian Jones. Don’t do it again, even if you’re on your deathbed. She dreaded to think what other accidents might have befallen her husband, blundering around in the garden shed on his own. Next time, she’d pay more attention. Next time, she’d blooming well do it herself.

  The boys arrived shortly afterwards, one after another, like homing pigeons returning to roost. Hugh first, with the boot full of groceries. (Clearly it was beneath Alicia to fetch and carry for her now. Fancy sending her husband out to do the shopping – and on the weekend, too!) ‘Thanks, love,’ Lilian said as he brought in the last few bags. ‘Very kind of you. Can I make you a nice cold drink while you’re here? Something to eat?’

  He seemed awkward, she noticed. ‘Better not,’ he said. ‘Alicia’s waiting for me with the kids.’

  Probably with some other jobs for the poor man to do, she thought sourly, waving him off. Honestly! Emma and Alicia didn’t know they were born sometimes. Didn’t appreciate just how lucky they were to have fine men like her sons looking after them.

  Talk of the devil … here came David and Emma next, parking in the drive, both looking rather distant. Their body language was unfriendly as they got out of the car. No doubt Emma had been nagging him to go back to Bristol again. Couldn’t she see that David was needed here, in his family home?

  ‘Come in,’ she said. ‘Had a nice afternoon?’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell David what had happened to Eddie while they’d been out, but she decided not to at the last second. The lad had worked his socks off, after all; it wasn’t his fault Eddie had got himself tangled up in the shed. (She still hadn’t quite established how the accident had actually happened, she remembered, making a note to go down there later on and put all the sharpest things out of reach.)

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ David said. ‘We went to Charmouth.’ He stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘Are you feeling better?’

  She pushed her lips up in a little smile. ‘Much better,’ she said, even though it was far from the truth. ‘Hello, Emma,’ she added. ‘How are you?’

  Emma’s eyes looked bloodshot. Had she been crying? ‘Fine,’ she said, in a not-very-fine way.

  Oh dear. Trouble afoot. ‘I’d better get on with dinner,’ she said, making a quick exit to the kitchen.

  Later on, as she was dishing up the evening meal – a rather dreary affair of lamb chops and mash, she just didn’t have the energy to conjure up anything more spectacular – Charlie appeared, breathless and agitated, as he dropped into a seat at the table. ‘Mum, Dad, have you got a minute? I need to ask you something. A favour.’

  Lilian did her best not to sigh but it was hard to prevent the resigned feeling of déjà vu. Here we go again, she thought. ‘Can it wait, dear? Only we’re just about to eat. Have you had anything, by the way? Would you like a chop? They’re not the best, unfortunately – I did give specific instructions to Alicia about what I wanted at the meat counter, but …’

  He waved the chop aside (she couldn’t blame him, it was a little on the scraggy side) and leaned forward, elbows on the table, obviously dying to impart news of whatever he’d cooked up now.

  ‘Remember Izzy?’ he began without preamble. ‘She came here once – your anniversary lunch. Two little girls. Remember?’

  Lilian’s head thumped. She remembered all right. It had been the last thing she’d wanted that day when, fraught with everything else she was trying to cope with, Charlie had appeared with three surprise guests. Rude, it was. Plain rude. ‘Yes,’ she said guardedly. What had this woman gone and conned him into?

  ‘Well, she’s in hospital. She’s the one I went to see earlier, and the other day.’

  ‘In hospital?’ Emma exclaimed. ‘Is she all right?’

  Eddie put his fork down. ‘Trees,’ he said suddenly. ‘Her little girls. They’re named after trees, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes, Dad, that’s right. Hazel and Willow,’ Charlie replied. ‘She’s been in a car crash,’ he said to Emma. ‘Broken her leg. Anyway, they’ve got nowhere else to go right now because – well, it’s a long story, but she’s going to be on crutches for a while and—’

  ‘Beautiful tree, a willow,’ Eddie said conversationally, sawing at his chop as if Charlie wasn’t speaking.

  ‘What? Yes, Dad. Yes, it is. Anyway. So they don’t have anywhere to stay, so …’

  Lilian felt very, very weary. Wearier, perhaps, than she’d ever felt in her life. ‘No, Charlie,’ she said quietly, guessing where this was going. ‘Whatever you’re about to ask, the answer is no. We’ve got too much on.’

  He gaped at her. ‘But – wait, I haven’t …’

  ‘Of course, a hazel tree is very nice too,’ Eddie went on. He was staring into space, lost in thought.

  Lilian reached out and patted his arm. ‘All right, love,’ she said gently.

  Charlie eyed his father. ‘Dad, are you even listening to me?’ He sounded annoyed. ‘What did you do to your hand anyway?’ he added after a moment.

  ‘Leave your dad alone,’ Lilian said. David and Emma were both looking at Eddie in concern now too, she noticed, and a hot defensive wave of feeling swelled in her. ‘He’s fine.’ The words came out with more vehemence than she intended.

  Luckily Eddie seemed to come back to earth just then, the fog clearing suddenly, and he chuckled. ‘Of course I’m fine,’ he said, sounding himself again. He did this quite often; seesawing between normality and this other confused state, often with unnerving speed. ‘Just a scratch. You know what your mum’s like for fussing over me.’ He gave her an indulgent wink, as if they were in on a secret together.

 
She smiled back, despite the slow churn of despair that hadn’t let up for weeks now. He was worth fussing over, her Eddie, after all.

  ‘So anyway,’ Charlie went on doggedly, ‘I was wondering …’

  David put up a hand. ‘Charlie, mate,’ he said. ‘Maybe not now, yeah?’

  Charlie’s eyes glittered: a danger sign that he was feeling combative. He’d always been one for explosive tantrums as a boy, could never bear not getting his own way. ‘Look,’ he said, straightening up in his chair, ‘I wouldn’t ask unless it was a desperate situation. Mum, Dad – don’t you see? She’s got nowhere to live. Her ex-husband – her violent ex-husband – has just died in a car crash. The poor girls are traumatized, she’s injured, she physically can’t get up to her flat without a lot of pain and difficulty. All I’m suggesting is …’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Emma cried. ‘How awful!’

  ‘We don’t have room,’ Lilian replied flatly. Good grief. It was like an episode of Coronation Street, listening to this tale of woe. Violence and death, trauma, injuries … she didn’t want that lot under her roof, if that was what Charlie was angling for. She had enough to worry about, with Eddie’s unpredictability. They were not a charity. ‘We’re booked up right over the Easter break. And the week after.’

  He was smiling, one step ahead. ‘Ah, but I’m not asking for a room here. I was thinking – if we got the holiday chalet finished, they could stay there. Self-contained, isn’t it? And I’ll be on hand to help them. I can do everything for her.’ Nobody spoke. ‘I want to do everything for her.’

  Good Lord, there was such stubbornness running right through the boy. Determined, that’s what Charlie was. Well, at first anyway. He tended to peter out halfway through these grand plans of his, leaving a mess for somebody else to clear up. Not this time. though, son. She was going to have to put her foot down. ‘I don’t think—’ she began.

  ‘Please,’ he said. ‘Please, Mum. Just until she’s back on her feet. You won’t even know she’s there. I really like her. I just want to help her. I’d put them up at my place, but there’s not enough room. Please?’

  Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Sounds like she’s had a rough time,’ he said gruffly. ‘What do you think, Lilian?’

  ‘They’ve been staying with Alicia until now – the girls, I mean,’ Charlie rattled on, sensing he might have an ally at last. ‘Good as gold, they are. No trouble.’

  Lilian could feel the walls closing in on her. The argument was starting to wear her down. And while on another day she might have been able to dig her heels in fully and resist Charlie’s barrage of pleas, today was not that day. Today she was tired and anxious and vulnerable. Today she just wanted to eat her dinner in peace and not be pressurized any more. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said ungraciously in the end. ‘I suppose so.’

  Charlie leapt up and kissed her. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Dad. Listen … David, I don’t suppose you’d be able to give me a hand getting the place finished tonight? With a bit of luck she’ll be out of hospital tomorrow and I want it to be really nice for her.’

  David rolled his eyes comically. ‘Go on, then,’ he said. ‘Who am I to stand in the way of love’s young dream? You don’t mind, do you, Em?’

  Mind? She looked like she might very well spit at the question. ‘Of course not,’ she muttered, not meeting his gaze. Her mouth twitched as if she was trying to control her feelings and then she drank the last of her wine in a single gulp. ‘Why ever would I mind?’

  After dinner Charlie and David vanished outside with paint pots, hammers, drills, the mop bucket and Eddie’s toolbox. Emma went out to help for a while, but came sulkily back, claiming that they’d told her they didn’t need her.

  ‘Man’s work, eh?’ Eddie said jovially, putting on the television in time for Casualty.

  Lilian was sure she heard a growl under Emma’s breath as she helped herself to another drink and sat at the far end of the sofa, feet tucked under her like a cat, but she made no comment.

  The programme began and Lilian tried to concentrate. She and Eddie never missed an episode, but tonight she was finding it difficult to follow the plot. Her thoughts kept skewing back to the conversation over dinner, and the way Charlie had steamrollered blithely over her in order to get what he wanted. Typical. He didn’t even seem to have noticed that his father wasn’t himself. Didn’t care how tired or overworked they were – that clearly didn’t matter. And now this Izzy woman had turned his head, and the whole family was expected to fall in with his wishes!

  ‘Honestly,’ she muttered crossly. Emma shot her a look before pouring herself another large glass of wine, but Eddie was glued to the television and oblivious. Lilian wished Emma would go somewhere else so that she could have a good moan to her husband about Charlie’s thoughtlessness. She just wanted someone to tell her, ‘It’ll be all right’, and for her to believe it. Was that too much to ask?

  The programme finished – goodness, she’d barely noticed what was happening tonight – and Eddie flicked off the television with the remote. Then he leaned back on the sofa and put his hands behind his head. ‘Be nice to have a couple of kiddies about the place,’ he said, to nobody in particular.

  Lilian thought he was referring to the guests they had booked in for Monday, until she realized he meant Izzy’s girls. ‘Hmmm,’ she muttered darkly.

  ‘And that Izzy our Charlie’s so keen on, she seemed a friendly sort of lass, didn’t she?’ he commented.

  Lilian gritted her teeth. ‘Goodness knows how she’s managed to wheedle Charlie into this,’ she huffed, getting out her knitting. ‘Sounds like trouble to me.’

  Emma – who appeared to have polished off most of the bottle of wine – made a scoffing sort of noise. ‘Nobody’s good enough for Charlie, are they?’ she said cattily.

  Lilian narrowed her eyes. ‘And what do you mean by that?’ she asked. Try it on with me, love, and you’ll get it right back, she thought. Just you dare!

  ‘I mean,’ Emma slurred, ‘nobody’s good enough for your precious sons, are they? Kate bloody Middleton wouldn’t have been good enough!’

  Eddie, to her annoyance, merely raised an eyebrow, but Lilian gripped her knitting needles so hard her knuckles blanched. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said in her iciest tones.

  ‘You’ve never been nice to me,’ Emma stated, ‘you treat Alicia like some kind of skivvy, and now you’re writing off Izzy before you’ve even bothered getting to know her.’ She leaned forward, pointing a finger, like a spiteful, drunk harpy. ‘What’s your problem, eh? Why can’t you give us a break?’

  The nerve of the girl, it almost took Lilian’s breath away. ‘How dare you!’ she managed to say. ‘I’ve never heard so much rubbish in my life.’

  ‘Now then,’ Eddie said mildly. ‘Let’s not argue. More wine, anyone?’

  ‘All I ever wanted,’ Emma went on, ‘was to love your son. All I have tried to do is make him happy, to be his best friend, his wife. Is that such a terrible crime?’

  Lilian opened her mouth to answer, but didn’t get a chance. Emma ploughed straight on. ‘How do you think it makes me feel, coming here, when you’re always so unfriendly to me, so rude? Every single bloody time there’s some dig, some nasty little remark. Thank God you’ve stopped asking when we’re going to have a baby. Because – hello! Newsflash! – we’ve been trying and trying for a baby for nearly a year. And guess what? We’re finding it really hard, actually. If you’re interested. If you care!’

  Lilian felt winded. ‘I—’ she began, but Emma was still in full flow.

  ‘I would love to be a mother. I am desperate to be a mother. I am trying my bloody hardest to get pregnant so that I can be a mother. And I’ve also been trying to help David get his life back together again. Okay? So don’t you dare look down your nose at me any more. Because all I’ve done is love your son the best I can.’ She was breathing hard. ‘Your boys might think you are the most perfect mum ever, but I’ll tell you something, you’re a bloody rott
en mother-in-law. The worst!’

  ‘Now come on, that’s a bit harsh,’ Eddie said, just as David came striding into the room.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ he asked, looking from Emma to Lilian. ‘What’s all the shouting about?’

  ‘Your wife is just telling me what a dreadful mother-in-law I am,’ Lilian said sharply, trying not to show the wound Emma had caused. Her hands shook so violently that the knitting needles clicked against each other like chattering teeth; she was reeling from Emma’s rant. Each word had been spat out with sheer hatred.

  ‘What?’ David looked incredulous. He turned to Emma. ‘What have you said? What’s happened?’

  Emma’s face crumpled and she got up, swaying. ‘That’s right, take her side as always,’ she shouted. ‘I knew you would!’

  ‘I’m not taking anyone’s side,’ he replied. ‘Not until I know what’s been said.’

  ‘Forget it,’ Emma spat. ‘Just forget it!’ And she pushed past him and out of the room, the door banging behind her.

  Still stunned, Lilian clutched at her necklace, gripping it so hard that the string broke and a hundred small blue beads bounced down to the carpet, rolling everywhere. ‘Oh no,’ she cried, the words becoming a sob. She had never felt so attacked, so demonized. And in her own home too!

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ David said, coming over and putting an arm around her. ‘I’m sorry for her behaviour. She’s … I’m sure she didn’t mean it.’

  She didn’t reply. What was the point? Because Emma had meant it, every stinging word of vitriol, that much was obvious. The way the diatribe had poured out of her with such ferocity, she had clearly been storing those words up, unsaid, for a long time.

  Lilian rubbed her eyes. A rotten mother-in-law, Emma had called her. The worst. She wasn’t that bad, was she? Was she?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Emma flung herself onto the bed and wept angry tears into the pillow, images of burning bridges flaming in her mind. She’d really gone and done it now; blown the situation sky-high with a heady combination of wine and pent-up frustration.