by Lucy Diamond
Wrapping her arms around herself, she cried and cried; emotions breaking over her like waves on a sea wall. Stupid, stupid woman, she raged. David would never forgive her for this. Never in a million years!
Eventually, when she was all cried out, she lay numbly on the lumpy eiderdown, gazing up at the shadowy ceiling. An owl hooted softly outside and the wind moaned around the chimneys. In the next room she could hear the couple who were staying – the burble of their television, the low murmur of their voices, occasional muffled laughter – and the sounds seemed to mock her. It seemed an age since she and David had done anything as ordinary and domestic as watch television in quiet togetherness. He hadn’t even bothered to come and see if she was all right. No doubt he was too busy comforting his mum, mopping up those crocodile tears. She’d walked right into Lilian’s hands this time.
Oh, Emma, she groaned to herself, pulling on her night things and washing her face in the tiny en suite. You and your big mouth. All those angry words that had boiled up out of her.
But really … who could blame her for cracking? Friends of hers had long said how amazed they were that she’d lasted this long without retaliating to Lilian’s jibes. Sally had actually called her a saint at their wedding, when Lilian had a face on her more appropriate to attending her son’s funeral than marriage to his beloved. Frankly, she had been a saint the whole time they’d been together, ignoring the snide remarks, slapping on that brave face for the umpteenth time when asked yet again when she was going to give David a baby.
Still … She found herself squirming uneasily as her own words came back to mock her. She might have talked the talk about loving David as best she could just now, but really … had she? Did she? When she thought of her recent behaviour with Greg and Nicholas, she couldn’t justify the statement with any sincerity.
She spat out her toothpaste, rinsed the brush and met her gaze in the bathroom mirror. There were secrets locked away in her eyes; she looked shifty, not to be trusted.
Maybe she wasn’t such a saint after all.
The next morning Emma woke early to find David’s sleeping body next to her, his back decidedly turned against hers, even in sleep. She shut her eyes again, feeling hungover and tired, before deciding that she simply couldn’t face the repercussions today. Instead she’d take the coward’s way out, skulk downstairs without another word, jump in the car and just go.
Cooling-off time, that was what they needed. Space to think about what, exactly, they both wanted – and whether or not it was each other any more.
Bloody hell. How had things become so precarious that she was now sliding gingerly out of bed, washing and dressing in silence and scooping up all her belongings? It was hardly the sign of a happy marriage. She imagined the couple next door spooned dreamily against one another’s warm, slumbering bodies and tears sprang to her eyes.
She cast a last glance over her sleeping husband, slightly sickened at what she was about to do. Lame, Em. Not very wifely.
Well, duh, she thought defensively. He hadn’t exactly been very husbandly lately, had he? Moving out, refusing to make plans for the future with her … The pair of them might as well be strangers.
She pulled the door gently to and crept downstairs. The house was still – it was only just past six o’clock. She knew that Lilian didn’t open the breakfast room for guests until seven-thirty on a Sunday, so she had plenty of time to make her escape. In fact, she’d have time for the quickest of coffees, she decided, setting her bag quietly down in the hall. A shot of caffeine might go some way towards stripping away one layer of her hangover, too.
But as she padded into the kitchen she froze in horror at the unwelcome sight of Lilian already at the table with a bowl of porridge. Damn. Emma’s armour and pride crumbled instantly, leaving her vulnerable, caught off-guard in enemy territory. Worse, she’d been spotted, so she couldn’t just turn and flee, however desperately she wanted to.
Lilian’s face was impassive. ‘Good morning,’ she said.
Emma hovered in the doorway. No, she simply could not go in and make coffee now. She couldn’t take another step towards her nemesis; she felt physically repelled, as if they were clashing magnetic forces. ‘Morning,’ she muttered. ‘I’m just heading off actually, so—’
‘Wait,’ Lilian said quickly. ‘Emma … please. I’m glad I caught you. I wanted to …’ She cleared her throat, almost swallowing the next word. ‘Apologize.’
Emma blinked. Hold on a minute. Was she still dreaming?
‘Sit down,’ Lilian said, motioning towards the table. Her hands flew back to her lap and she twisted her fingers, uncharacteristically nervous. ‘There’s coffee in the pot, if you want some.’
‘Listen, about last night …’ Emma began hesitantly, not moving.
Lilian waved a hand. ‘You were right.’
Emma stared, not convinced she’d heard her mother-in-law correctly. She wasn’t sure the phrase ‘You were right’ had ever come out of those thin lips before, especially not addressed to her.
‘Please,’ Lilian said. ‘Sit down.’
Still wary – was this a trick? – Emma lowered herself cautiously into a seat. Now what?
‘You were right,’ Lilian said again, pouring her a mug of coffee. ‘I haven’t been the most welcoming mother-in-law in the world.’ She gave a short, brittle-sounding laugh. ‘I know I’ve been overprotective of the boys. David especially. But you see …’ Her mouth twisted. ‘That’s my job. It’s always been my job. And it’s hard to let go.’
Emma said nothing. It’s not your job to be a bitch, though, she thought.
‘I’ve been unfair to you,’ her mother-in-law went on, her gaze unflinching. ‘Things have been tricky here. Eddie’s not himself. You’ve seen how he is. I’m worried he’s got …’ It was obvious she could hardly bring herself to say the words. ‘Alzheimer’s, or some kind of dementia.’ She bowed her head. ‘I’m terrified, Emma.’
For the first time ever, Emma felt a stab of sympathy for her. It was true, Eddie had been acting oddly the last few times she’d been down. ‘Must be worrying,’ she said tentatively.
Lilian’s eyes were wet. ‘I just don’t know what to do,’ she said quietly. ‘And I’ve let myself lean on David and keep him here longer than I should have done.’ She reached into her pocket for a tissue and blew her nose. ‘I knew it was wrong, but it helped, having someone else here with me. I felt so alone before. And he’s a good lad. I put him in a difficult position and he’s just been trying to support me, that’s all.’
‘It’s fine,’ Emma said, because suddenly it was. There she’d been all this time, thinking David had stayed away because he didn’t want her or a baby, when this whole other drama had been unfolding in the background. ‘Really, Lilian. I didn’t realize what was going on; he hadn’t told me.’
The central heating suddenly came to life; a flame leapt in the boiler behind them and it rumbled gently in the background. ‘But, Emma, I’ve got to say, while David’s been staying here I’ve seen how much he’s missed you, and how much he loves you. It’s taken me a long time, but I do believe that you are good for each other.’ She gave a small smile. ‘I should have recognized it much earlier of course, but I’m a stubborn old woman. And I’m sorry.’
Emma swallowed. Of all the times her mother-in-law could have made this peace-offering, of all the times she could have said these words, she’d picked the very moment when Emma herself was having massive doubts about her future with David. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. But the omission throbbed inside her, and she couldn’t be dishonest.
‘Although actually,’ she blurted out, ‘I’m not so sure that’s true these days – that we’re good for each other, I mean. I don’t know if we still are.’ Her gaze drifted to a framed photo on the wall of David as a boy, holding a fish and beaming gappily. He looked so happy, she thought with a pang. ‘Since he’s been here, I feel like I’ve lost him. I don’t know what he wants any more – and if he even wants me.’
Ugh, Emma Jones, what are you doing? She felt sick for showing her hand with such frankness, to her old enemy of all people. ‘I should probably just go,’ she added, rising to her feet.
Lilian put a hand on hers. ‘Don’t go,’ she said.
Emma looked helplessly at the gnarled fingers on hers, the dull silver gleam of Lilian’s wedding band, and sank back onto the seat. ‘Things have become so strange between us,’ she admitted after a moment. ‘I felt jealous, as if he’d chosen you over me. And lonely, too. I just want him home. I’ve been so desperate to get pregnant, Lilian.’ She rubbed her eyes, feeling self-conscious. ‘I must sound like I’m mad.’
Lilian patted her arm. ‘Not to me, you don’t,’ she said. ‘I remember that desperation myself. After David was born, there were complications. I was ill for a while and they said I might not be able to have any more children. It was the worst kind of pain, like a terrible hunger gnawing away at me inside.’
‘Yes,’ said Emma. ‘That’s how I feel.’
‘I was so desperate for another baby that we looked into adoption,’ Lilian went on. ‘I just knew our family wasn’t complete. Eddie wanted a girl, and we’d been approved by the adoption agency and were on their waiting list, when two weeks later I discovered I was carrying Charlie. Our little miracle.’
There was silence for a moment while Lilian topped up their coffee. ‘Probably just as well we didn’t have a daughter, I’ve often thought. I’ve not been very good at having daughters-in-law, let alone the real thing.’
‘Oh, but …’ Emma started, feeling obliged to argue the point. This was her cue to say, Don’t be silly, Lilian, you’ve been a wonderful mother-in-law!, but they both knew it wouldn’t be true.
‘It’s all right,’ Lilian went on. ‘You don’t have to be polite. I really need to cut those apron strings once and for all, don’t I?’
Emma smiled. ‘I’ve got some scissors you can borrow,’ she ventured.
Lilian smiled too. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I think David has been hiding down here because he’s afraid to face up to the future and find a new job. He’s always hated losing face, even as a boy. He couldn’t bear it when Charlie learned to ride a bike before he did.’ She sighed. ‘I should have done what I did back then – told him to get back on the bike and keep trying. Instead, I put my head in the sand too. I’ve kept him here for selfish reasons.’
It was quite a speech. ‘Oh, Lilian …’ Emma began.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lilian said again. ‘I’ll send him back to Bristol, to you. I need to face facts just as much as he does, and you need him more than me.’
‘Thank you,’ Emma said faintly, not quite able to believe how this conversation had turned out.
‘You’ll sort things out, I know you will,’ Lilian went on. ‘And if a baby doesn’t come naturally, well, it’s not the end of the world, Emma. Adoption can be just as wonderful. You can have a family yet, you know.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Don’t give up, that’s all I’m saying. Not without a damn good fight.’
There were tears in Emma’s eyes all of a sudden. ‘Don’t worry,’ she promised. ‘I won’t.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
You had to hand it to Charlie: once he got an idea into his head there was no stopping him. As soon as the doctors said Izzy was ready to leave hospital, he turned up in the ward, breezily announcing his plan, as if that was that – got it, okay?
Thankfully, Alicia had already forewarned Izzy, laying it on good and thick that she did have options, whatever Charlie might say, and she was absolutely welcome to stay with her and Hugh for as long as she wanted. It was a hard choice, though. Could she really trust Charlie not to let her down? Could he seriously guarantee that he’d be able to take the girls to school every morning, along with the great list of other things he’d assured her he’d do? That was the fulcrum on which her entire decision rested: the reliability of Charlie Jones. Izzy wasn’t used to relying on anyone for anything, had deliberately trained herself not to be dependent. Unfortunately, she just wasn’t confident that Charlie’s glib words were enough.
Obviously, she wished they were. How easy life would be if, for example, she could lean on him for support without a second thought, allow him to help her with everything. But she was used to fighting her own battles, and self-preservation was too deeply ingrained in her, etched into her very bones. Everything she’d heard about Charlie in the past told her to just say No, thank you, we can manage, and walk briskly away. Well, hobble slowly away on her new crutches anyway.
He was a difficult person to say no to, though. ‘Look, just give it a go,’ he kept urging. ‘If it turns out you’re not keen, or you change your mind, we can sort out somewhere else. I’m not asking you to sign a six-month contract or anything. I won’t dump you in the nearest gutter if it doesn’t work out.’
It was the thought of having their own place, just her and the girls, that swung the decision in the end. Although staying at Alicia’s would have been fine, she knew the three of them were fragile right now. They might not be up to boisterous family dinner times or cheery conversations 24/7. She, for one, was looking forward to being on her own again and just having an enormous, no-holds-barred cry – one that wouldn’t depress the other patients in the ward or send a nurse rushing round to comfort her. She didn’t want anyone to feel they had to try and comfort her, she just wanted to let the grief pour out and release some of the pressure. Whether they realized it or not, the girls needed the same.
‘Okay,’ she said in the end. ‘If you’re one hundred per cent sure it’s all right with your mum.’
‘Leave her to me,’ Charlie assured her. ‘Besides, she’s a pussycat really. I swear.’
Hmmm. Izzy had been prepared to suspend a little disbelief in order to trust Charlie’s word, but calling his mum a pussycat was stretching it.
Anyway. Resistance was futile. Once the doctors and the physio were happy that she could get about okay on crutches, and had booked her in for a follow-up appointment at the fracture clinic for ten days’ time, Izzy was free to go and hobbled down the corridor with Charlie.
Sitting in his car, watching through the window as he drove back towards Lyme, she felt as if a new page in her life was turning, a new chapter starting. Part one – her childhood – was long over. And now part two – married life with Gary – was almost closed, bar the funeral. Part three was about to begin, but she had no idea what it would bring.
Part three actually felt pretty Grimsville at first, she decided, later that afternoon once she and the girls were reunited. They clung to her, Hazel weeping, Willow silent, and Izzy was engulfed by the awful fear that she wasn’t strong enough, that she simply wouldn’t be able to cope. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, she thought, frightened by her own doubts.
‘They’ve been such stars,’ Alicia said, holding a box of clean linen and food that she’d put together for Izzy. ‘And they’re welcome to stay again any time – as are you too, okay? Any time.’
Izzy wanted to weep herself at the kindness Alicia had shown. She was the nicest person Izzy had ever met; the best mother, the most thoughtful friend. ‘I gather you had to delay Paris because of me,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘I am so sorry about that. I feel terrible, Alicia.’
‘It’s fine,’ Alicia said bravely, although you could see the disappointment was still there in her eyes. ‘I can go another time – don’t worry about it.’
Izzy hugged her. ‘I’ll make it up to you,’ she promised. ‘I mean it – I owe you big time, and I’ll make it up to you, just as soon as I’m back in action.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ Alicia said. ‘Honestly. It’s fine.’
‘Let us know if you need anything,’ said Alicia’s husband, Hugh, as they went out to Charlie’s car.
‘You can borrow my Gwyneth Rees books if you like,’ Matilda offered Hazel and Willow. Then she looked up at Izzy, winding one leg self-consciously around the other like an anxious flamingo. ‘Will you stil
l be teaching me ballet?’
Izzy bit her lip. ‘Not immediately, sweetie, no,’ she replied. Sore point. She didn’t know what she’d be able to do to earn a crust, now that she was crocked. She wouldn’t be able to work in the tea shop any more, either – imagine, hopping around on crutches while she carried teas and coffees to the tables; she’d be the stuff of Health and Safety nightmares – but she had to support her little family somehow.
In her darkest moments she had wondered miserably whether the girls would be better off in care, now that she was jobless, broke and destitute. If they could be farmed out to a loving, rich foster family who’d give them ponies and a bedroom each, surely they’d be ten times better off …
She’d had to shake the image away, slap herself with a major reality check. Families like that were few and far between, the stuff of Annie and care-home mythology. She’d certainly never come across her own Daddy and Mummy Warbucks when she’d been stuck in the system.
Don’t go there, Isabel, she ordered herself. You’re not done yet.
Charlie drove them to the flat so that the girls could pick up anything they wanted from their bedrooms, but Izzy didn’t feel she could manage all the steps safely, so she stayed in the car. It was strange being back, unnerving even. She couldn’t help thinking about the last morning she’d left, glancing over her shoulders as she took the girls to school, terrified that Gary would come after them. It seemed so long ago, completely out of reach now. Everything had changed.
Once the girls were loaded up with every precious felt-tip and bangle that was required, and Charlie had carried down the small TV, everyone’s pillows and a collection of pot plants that appeared to be in their death-throes, they set off once again to the house in Loveday. The whole day was starting to feel like a strange dream.
Mulberry House had a number of cars parked outside it when they arrived, and Charlie’s brother David came out to help carry their belongings through to their temporary new residence. The chalet was down at the bottom of the garden, almost hidden from view behind a large spreading beech tree. ‘Ta-da!’ cried Charlie as he unlocked the door and showed them in. ‘So what do you think?’
