Just Between Us

by Cathy Kelly

  ‘You seem so happy here,’ Stella said. ‘You’ve made this life for yourself and,’ she hesitated before voicing her fears, ‘I can’t help but feel that we’re not a part of it.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ said Rose, stung. ‘My being here isn’t a rejection of you, Stella, it’s just me reclaiming my life.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry, I really am.’ Stella clung onto Rose’s hand as they walked. ‘I’m being selfish. You have a right to your life. I shouldn’t have said that. I do want you to be happy, Mum. I just need to feel that Amelia and I are still a part of it. Tara and Holly feel the same.’ This wasn’t absolutely true. Tara, who seemed very distant and preoccupied lately, a fact which worried her older sister, had said how depressing it was that the family seemed to have splintered.

  ‘It’s like a death in the family,’ she’d told Stella on the phone the night before. ‘Everything’s changed, Mum’s changed, and it’s horrible.’

  Holly, however, didn’t seem as concerned and was more worried about their father. She hadn’t mentioned feeling left out because Rose appeared content in her new, family-free life. Stella had put this down to Holly’s guilt at having known about Hugh’s affair and not telling their mother.

  ‘You’ll always be the biggest part of my life,’ Rose said shakily. ‘I’m your mother and I’m so proud of all of you. But…’ She struggled to put what she felt into words. ‘This isn’t about the family. It’s about your father and me. It’s about me deciding what to do next, and it’s easier to do it away from everyone. You must understand, Stella. If I stayed with you, surrounded by the memories of myself and your father, I’d be drawn back into our marriage, without having actually made any decisions about whether I wanted that or not. I know you think it’s selfish of me being here but, I have to be a bit selfish. Can you understand that?’

  They’d reached the enormous field behind the tiny Norman chapel and rowdy noises could be heard coming from beyond the hedge.

  ‘I do. I suppose I hadn’t thought of it like that before,’ Stella said quietly. ‘You were never selfish; that’s why you didn’t leave Dad, isn’t it?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Selfish isn’t supposed to be an option for mothers, as you know.’

  Amelia was waiting for them to catch up. Rose and Stella each caught one of the little girl’s hands and they swung her in the way she’d loved when she was a toddler.

  ‘Mummy, Auntie Freddie says there’s a horse thing on tomorrow. Can we go to that too?’ Amelia asked.

  Over her daughter’s shining dark head, Stella’s eyes met Rose’s. ‘Whatever you want, pet.’

  Saturday had a holiday air to it. The gymkhana was a huge success and by evening they were all almost too tired to visit one of Freddie’s neighbours who was hosting a huge barbecue. Amelia found two little girls of similar age to play with, leaving the grown-ups to enjoy the food and the chance of a sit-down with paper cups of sangria.

  ‘My feet are killing me,’ Adele groaned, lowering herself into one of the mismatched chairs in the neighbour’s enormous back garden.

  ‘Mine too,’ said Freddie, sinking into the chair beside Adele’s.

  Rose was too restless to sit and prowled the garden, investigating the tiny herb garden at the end. On the other side of the dry stone wall was a field where sheep stood chewing contentedly. Stella came to find her.

  ‘Isn’t this lovely,’ said Rose.

  ‘Beautiful,’ agreed Stella, perching on the stone wall. ‘It’s very calming here. Like the city is a million miles away and none of the stupid things you worry about really matter.’

  ‘What stupid things would those be?’ Rose asked, sitting beside her daughter.

  Stella sighed. ‘Life, the universe, you know.’

  ‘I don’t. Is it Nick?’ Rose prompted. ‘I thought you were very happy.’

  ‘We were,’ Stella replied. ‘It’s all become so complicated. Jenna hates me, and I mean that. It’s not dislike, it’s sheer hate, which is kind of hard to cope with. She’s also behaving badly at school and Nick’s ex clearly blames Nick for that. Nick and me, actually. I can just imagine what she’s thinking: If Nick had never met that woman, Jenna wouldn’t be behaving like a monster, etc, etc. She’s only a kid and how can she cope with her father’s new life. I feel like public enemy number one.’

  Rose, who knew when to hold her tongue, said nothing.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ Stella continued, ‘but Nick doesn’t stand up to Jenna when she’s behaving badly, which makes her worse. It’s like he’s deaf when she’s making these horrible comments under her breath. He doesn’t stand up for me.’ It sounded so petulant saying it, but Stella couldn’t help herself. Jenna’s behaviour wiped out the calm, rational adult in her and brought out the furious screaming child instead.

  ‘Poor you,’ said Rose. ‘I remember when you told me about Nick for the first time, you had a premonition this might happen.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ve heard all the stepmom stories but I really thought I could handle it. I honestly didn’t think it was going to be this bad. Sara is a lovely girl, she’s funny and friendly, and she’s really sweet to Amelia. But the other one…she’s a nightmare child.’

  ‘You must understand that Jenna’s life has changed and the only person she can see to blame for that is you.’

  ‘That’s irrational,’ snapped Stella.

  ‘People aren’t rational, children especially so. She is still a child,’ Rose said. ‘You have to be calm when you deal with her, let her see that her bad behaviour gets no rewards or no added attention. But you have to remain adult in all of this. And, even more importantly, you can’t blame Nick for his daughter’s behaviour.’

  ‘Mum, I don’t want you to be wise and see everybody else’s point of view, I want you to be on my side!’ Stella said heatedly.

  ‘It’s because I am on your side that I’m being wise.’ Her mother stared at Stella. ‘There’s no benefit in my saying “God, Jenna’s a brat and Nick doesn’t deserve you.” Where will that get us? Nowhere. Listen, Stella, you have a good, strong relationship with Nick. It’s worth fighting for. Jenna will learn to live with you eventually, and Nick’s ex-wife will learn how to let go and live her own life. It’s going to take time and patience, but it will be worth it. When you’ve got something special, it’s worth fighting for it.’

  Stella was silent. She didn’t want to mention the one other gloomy factor lingering over her and Nick: the shock of Rose and Hugh’s split. Seen through the prism of her parents’ troubles, Stella’s relationship with Nick appeared on shakier ground. If Rose and Hugh could separate, then what hope was there for Nick and her with all their complicated problems? How long would it last before everything, inevitably, went wrong? And was there any point in love at all if you just got hurt in the end?

  ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said. ‘But it’s hard to be love’s middle-aged dream when you’re always waiting for the next explosion. Nick and I do have something special, but…it’s so hard dealing with Jenna’s hate all the time. I thought I could make her love me, I honestly thought we could be sort of a family…Still, let’s not talk about it any more. What I actually wanted to talk to you about was Tara. I’m worried about her.’

  ‘Worried, why?’ asked Rose, jerking her hand up from toying with the leaves of a fragrant thyme bush.

  ‘I think there’s something wrong with her and Finn. Not,’ Stella added hurriedly, ‘that she’s said anything. But a few months ago, I got the feeling that all wasn’t well. And on the night of the ruby wedding, they rowed and Finn stormed off. She wouldn’t say what it was and now acts as if everything is perfect. You know Tara, she’d never tell you in a million years. But, I just know something’s not quite right.’

  Rose crumpled a sprig of thyme in her fingers absentmindedly.

  ‘She hasn’t mentioned anything to me,’ Rose said. ‘But then, she wouldn’t, would she? Not now.’ She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘I’ve been so busy thinking about myself
, that I’ve neglected the rest of you.’

  ‘No you haven’t.’

  ‘I should talk to her,’ Rose said, ‘get her to come here for the weekend. She might be able to act as if everything’s fine over the phone, but she wouldn’t be able to do it with me in person. How’s Holly?’ she asked tentatively.

  ‘Seems fine,’ said Stella. ‘She modelled at Joan’s fashion show and never told us, the minx. I’d have loved to have gone to see her. I was thrilled to hear she’d done it, though, it might give her some confidence. Honestly, she’s so gorgeous and talented, and she thinks she’s anything but. It kills me to see her undervaluing herself; don’t you agree?’

  Rose felt the weight of guilt over Holly crush her. She could barely reply. She cast her mind back over the last month, when Stella and Tara had phoned regularly, anxiety in their voices. Holly had phoned too, but on those occasions when she’d reached only Rose’s mobile phone answering service, she’d left a message but hadn’t phoned back. When Rose had rung Holly’s flat to return the call, the answering machine was always on. It was the same with her mobile phone. Rose couldn’t suppress the thought that Holly didn’t want to be contacted.

  ‘Do you think that Holly might come down and stay too, when Tara comes?’ Rose asked now.

  ‘I’m sure she’d love to,’ Stella said brightly.

  Everyone except Freddie was tearful on Sunday afternoon. Rose, still crushed from feeling she’d let her daughters down by running away to stay with Freddie, hugged Stella as if they would never see each other again.

  ‘I wish you’d talked to me about Dad,’ Stella said quietly.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t. Not yet,’ Rose replied. ‘Promise me you’ll phone often and tell me about Nick.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘Granny, when will I see you again?’ asked Amelia.

  ‘Soon. I won’t be here forever,’ Rose said, ‘Aunt Freddie’s going to throw me out sometime, so I’ll come to stay with you.’

  ‘Will you bring Prinny, Mildred and Pig?’ Amelia wanted to know.

  Even Adele laughed at this.

  ‘Goodbye, Rose, take care,’ she said, giving her sister-in-law the warmest hug they’d ever exchanged. ‘If you’re going to stay here, perhaps I could come again?’

  ‘If I stay here, of course,’ Rose said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The following Friday evening, Joan, Kenny and Holly sat on the small balcony in the bigger flat and talked about the letter.

  It was from SallyYvette Inc in New York and had been folded and unfolded so many times, it was beginning to resemble a piece of origami. Joan looked at it at least every ten minutes, just to remind herself that it wasn’t a dream and that SYInc were actually asking her to join their design team in Manhattan in September.

  ‘Me, they’re asking me,’ she said reverently, opening the precious letter again and running her fingers over the type as if some of the New York high fashion magic would enter her veins by osmosis.

  ‘It’s fantastic,’ said Holly, for the hundredth time. She did her best to inject wild delight into her voice but it was hard. She adored Joan and was as proud as any parent that Joan’s talent had been recognised. But the letter meant one thing: the beginning of the end of the terrible threesome’s flat-sharing days. Holly knew that she, Joan and Kenny would never lose their close friendship but once Joan left, things wouldn’t ever be quite the same again.

  The three of them had their feet up on the iron railings and their faces to the sun as they caught the last few rays of a torrid June day. The street below them was busy with people heading off out for the evening. The man at number seventy-one was cutting his grass and the scent mingled with the heady smell of Kenny’s prized, though somewhat stunted, herb pot which sat on the balcony in all weathers. This misshapen terracotta pot was designed with holes at odd places and was supposed to be perfect for growing herbs. The basil had long since died an unnatural death but the parsley was flourishing and the lavender (‘Lavender’s not a herb, is it?’ Joan had asked the day he got it) was rampantly fragrant.

  Holly was eating crisps, holding her bottle of fruit juice between her thighs, and trying to tell herself she had no right to feel miserable when Joan was getting this marvellous career chance.

  ‘We’ll miss you,’ said Kenny mournfully. Kenny had taken the news worst. After an Absolutely Fabulous explosion of ‘Sweetie, that’s fabulous!’, he’d realised that Joan would be leaving. ‘Who’ll forget to clean the shower now?’ he asked, reaching out for a handful from Holly’s bumper bag of cheese and onion crisps. ‘Who’ll take my avocado and cucumber face mask from the fridge and smear it on their toast? Who’s going to put my Prada nylon T into the boil wash in the launderette?’

  Holly giggled.

  ‘Don’t be sad,’ begged Joan.

  ‘We’re not,’ said Holly quickly. ‘We’re thrilled for you, we’re just being selfish pigs and thinking of how lucky New York is going to be because you’ll be there and we’ll be here being lonely without you.’

  ‘You can visit.’

  Kenny perked up. ‘There’s this rumour of a designer outlet in the garment district where you can buy Calvin Klein pieces before they hit the stores. It could just be one of those urban myths, but imagine…’ his voice trailed off dreamily, lost in a vision of exquisite shirts and sharply-tailored suits with him inside them.

  ‘We’ll find it, wherever it is,’ promised Joan fiercely, as if this mission was the search for the Holy Grail. ‘I’ll track it down, right?’

  Holly was floored by guilt. All poor Joan wanted was for her two best friends to be happy for her, and there they were, whingeing like a couple of spoilt brats.

  ‘We should make plans,’ she said. ‘A plan for your leaving party and a plan for when we come and visit you.’

  Joan’s eyes glittered suspiciously. Noticing this, Holly surged on. Joan never cried.

  ‘In fact, we could help you find a flat in New York on the Internet.’

  ‘No,’ shrieked Kenny, ‘we could go over with you for a long weekend and help. Feck the net.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joan joyously. ‘You’ll both come, for more than a long weekend, right? You could come altogether!’

  ‘Why not?’ shrieked Kenny.

  Holly thought of how she had nothing planned for the next hundred years. She also thought of Tom and how he and Caroline were up to their eyeballs planning the wedding of the century. Caroline drove up to Dublin every weekend now, clinging to Tom and insisting on honorary membership of their foursome, to the irritation of both Kenny and Joan. Holly never said anything when Joan complained about Caroline and her fake-friendship.

  ‘I hate that woman, do you know that? She’s so bloody plastic,’ Joan raged. ‘When she’s sweet to me, I know she doesn’t mean it. She’s working out how useful I could be to her in the future. Well, if she thinks I’m designing her bloody wedding dress, she can get stuffed.’

  ‘New York sounds great,’ Holly said now. ‘But how can we afford it?’

  They all looked out over the balcony reflectively. Finances were always a problem. The landlord had put the rent up and Holly was doing as much overtime as she could to cope with the increase. Kenny was saving for a car, which would be invaluable for his styling work. Joan would have her ticket paid for, according to the letter from SYInc. ‘I wonder will they send me first class?’ she mused.

  ‘Probably,’ said Kenny. ‘You’ll fly first class and me and Holly will fly no class.’

  ‘Is that on the wings?’ joked Holly.

  ‘No, with the suitcases. And it’s BYOS too. Bring Your Own Sandwiches,’ he added.

  ‘If I get a first-class ticket, we could swap it for three economy ones,’ Joan said.

  ‘I always said you were a creative genius,’ beamed Kenny, clinking his can of Sprite with Joan’s bottled water.

  The next evening Holly, shattered after a particularly busy day in Lee’s, was on her knees sorting through her laund
ry. Both Kenny and Joan were out, the television schedule for Saturday was dire and Holly decided that she might as well celebrate her exciting single girl lifestyle by spending the evening in the launderette. To add an edge of untrammelled decadence, she planned to buy a magazine and some chocolate on the way there. Who said career girls don’t have thrilling lives, she reflected wryly as she made neat piles of dark stuff, white stuff and things that had to be handwashed. The handwash stuff joined the permanently-growing pile in a basket. Tomorrow, Holly vowed, she would do it. The laundry had been heaped into two bags when the doorbell went. The landlord? Joan looking for a loan of some money? Holly went through the possibilities as she walked to the door.

  Tom stood outside, looking uncomfortable. This wasn’t new. Since the morning after Joan’s fashion show triumph, he always looked uncomfortable when he met Holly. She knew that she probably looked the same. Their easy camaraderie had vanished the instant Tom had seen her returning home after the night with Vic. Now they muttered hello and went through the motions; politely saying things like ‘how are you?’ and even worse, ‘how’s work?’ like strangers who meet at the same bus stop for years. Because Kenny, Joan and Caroline each talked enough for ten people, nobody really noticed the huge, yawning gaps in the conversation between Holly and Tom.

  Holly leaned against the door jamb. ‘Hi,’ she said, noticing that he had something in his hand.

  ‘Hi.’ He followed her gaze and held up the something. It was a small envelope and he offered it to her. ‘We’re having an engagement party next week and this is your invitation.’

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ Holly took it. ‘Er, do you want to come in?’

  He nodded.

  Holly led the way in and sat down. At least she hadn’t got as far as pulling on something slobby and comfortable to schlep to the laundry, and was still wearing a chic work shirt and well tailored black trousers. Tom perched on the other couch but he didn’t sit back and relax. He kept looking at the envelope in Holly’s hands. She wasn’t sure if he wanted her to open it or not, but she did anyway.