Mum in the Middle

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  ‘She phoned me at work. Just said to get home as early as I could,’ Oliver tells me. ‘She was looking so pale I was really scared. I thought she was going to say she had something terribly wrong with her.’

  He swallows. ‘I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t even told me she thought she might be …’

  I nod in sympathy. ‘Weren’t you er …?’

  ‘Yes, she was on the pill, of course. The nurse at the doctor’s said it happens.’ Oliver looks uncomfortable. ‘She asked if Sam had had sickness or diarrhoea in the last couple of months.’

  I clap a hand to my mouth. ‘Oh God,’ I say again.

  It is all the fault of my fish pie.

  ‘I’m SO sorry. But,’ I add hastily, ‘it’s lovely isn’t it – a baby, imagine!’

  I search his face for traces of joy, my insides wrenched with guilt. What had I been thinking of, dragging seafood home on the train?

  Oliver shrugs ruefully. ‘It’s not very good timing, moneywise–’

  I am ready with the platitudes for this one. ‘Your grandmother always used to say that if everyone waited till they could afford a family, there’d be no babies born at all,’ I tell him brightly and squeeze his arm. ‘You’ve both got jobs and you’ll be earning a lot more once you’ve finished your training and I’m sure Dad and I can help you. Sam’s parents are always very generous, aren’t they …?’

  I’ve never met them as Sam’s father has some big job in Singapore, but I’ve spoken to her mother on the phone, who sounds very nice and I know they are comfortably off. Sam has some fabulous jewellery and they paid for the airline tickets and all sorts of trips when Oliver and Sam went out to visit.

  He nods. ‘Sam’s already phoned them.’ He gives his first small smile. ‘They were pleased, apparently!’

  ‘I am too,’ I say immediately. ‘It was just a surprise.’ I grip his forearm even more tightly. ‘Really, darling, I am thrilled to bits.’

  I have a sudden picture of a tiny baby with a shock of dark hair, like Oliver himself when he was born.

  ‘The thing is–’ Oliver hesitates. ‘We can’t move into the new flat now. We were about to sign, but we’ve had to let it go.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘We couldn’t really afford it before, but we were going to economise and maybe get some evening jobs or something. But now, if Sam will be stopping work before the end of the year … And we can’t stay where we are. Sam’s flatmate has already found someone new and everyone in mine got notice anyway. The landlord’s selling.’

  ‘Well maybe–’ I want to tell him there’ll be an answer – that now they are going to be parents there will be other options and assistance, but Oliver sweeps on.

  ‘Sam’s mum and dad have been great. They say we can live in their flat in Battersea. It sounds amazing – they bought it as an investment, but we can use it and just pay the running costs, they said. Until we can afford some rent.’

  ‘Well, then, that’s brilliant–’

  ‘But it’s got a tenant in it until the end of June. Sam’s parents are over here in the first week of July and they say we’ll sort it out then. In the meantime …’ Oliver stops, his eyes fixed on mine and suddenly he doesn’t look older at all. I am already nodding as he asks.

  ‘It will only be for a while, Mum, but can we come and live with you?’

  Chapter 26

  ‘It’s only for a while.’

  Tilly wasn’t even asking but had phoned to tell me she’d got it all planned.

  ‘Danni’s mate wants to move in as soon as she can, and as I’m going to be away doing the schools run for at least four weeks, I may as well get out now. I’ll be in digs weekdays anyway, so you’ll only have to put up with me at weekends.’

  ‘Are they paying you well?’ I asked, hopefully.

  ‘Not really,’ my daughter said cheerfully. ‘But it’s what I want to do. I loved doing that bullying play and I cannot wait to finish at that bloody diner. I was there till one o’clock this morning. My feet are agony–’

  ‘Well, make sure you leave on good terms,’ I put in. ‘In case you need to go back.’

  ‘Thank you for your faith and positive attitude,’ Tilly said huffily.

  ‘You know I didn’t mean–’

  ‘And you won’t make a fuss if Daddy brings me down, will you? I’ve got too much stuff for the train.’

  ‘Where are you going to put it all? Oliver and Sam have got the spare room, of course–’

  ‘And Ben might come in the car too as he’s got no money again.’

  Tilly sounded disapproving. I resisted the urge to point out that neither would she have if her father hadn’t stepped in. And made a mental note to suggest that since Rob was so keen on all our children being treated equally, he might like to give a small hand-out to the boys too.

  ‘So I thought I’d have the conservatory, if you’ve given them my room,’ Tilly was saying, as if she were bestowing a major favour. ‘And Ben can have the tiny one. He’ll be going back on Monday.’

  I shook my head. The double room had originally been Ben’s if anyone’s and I’d hardly be putting a pregnant Sam on a sofa bed.

  ‘We’ve got Malcolm and Gabriel coming to eat on Sunday,’ I said. ‘I expect Gabriel told you.’

  ‘Yeah – there’s some amazing guitarist on at the Fox Saturday night, that’s why Ben’s coming.’

  ‘Oh, not to see his poor old mum, then?’

  Tilly laughed. ‘That too – he’ll have all his manky washing with him.’

  ‘I expect you’ll have yours too.’

  ‘I will!’ Tilly was shouting now as there was a fresh outburst of voices around her. ‘I’ve got to go!’

  ‘I’m making steak and kidney pie,’ I shouted back. ‘With pasta for Sam. You can have that too as you don’t like kidney.’

  There was more noise and her reply was lost.

  ‘WHAT?’

  ‘I said NO I CAN’T,’ my daughter yelled just before we were cut off. ‘I’M NOT DOING CARBS.’

  I’d heard that one before, I thought, as I finished crimping the pastry round the edge of my largest pie dish and began to snip apart a mound of sausages. I’d decided to make a toad as well – Tilly could always hoik out the meat from the batter if she was still on her regime by this evening (never a given) – and do lots of vegetables. Then I’d thrown together a coq au vin too, mainly because I had half a bottle of wine left I didn’t much like – it was one Rob bought – but was too parsimonious to pour down the sink. And I wanted to put on a good spread for Malcolm.

  He had sounded almost rapturous about coming to eat, sending me quite long sentences by email and checking twice what time I wanted him to arrive.

  A small, disloyal, part of me half-wished we’d be dining on our own. Not so long ago I’d have been over the moon to have all my children under my roof, but I’d sort of got used to the house tidy now. And quiet … I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had the place to myself.

  As I was stirring, Sam appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking wan.

  ‘You not feeling well again, sweetheart?’ I said, as she rummaged in the cupboard and pulled out the peppermint tea. She gave me a weak smile. ‘Not too bad.’

  ‘I’ll make you pasta with pesto and pine nuts, is that okay?’

  ‘Yes, that’s lovely. Rich in magnesium and iron,’ she recited. ‘Something that’s actually good for you in pregnancy. I’ve got a great long list of foods that aren’t!’

  ‘It was only soft cheese and raw eggs when I was doing it,’ I told her. ‘That you had to avoid, I mean,’ I added hastily. ‘Not that were good.’

  Sam had been very sweet about the fish pie, and had only shrugged philosophically when I’d apologised for turning her life upside down. ‘It should have occurred to me I’d been sick,’ was all she’d said, but I noticed she was now fully vegetarian and nobody was queuing up for my nutritional advice.

  ‘You go and sit down,’ I said now, as she poured boiling
water onto her teabag. ‘Take it easy while you can.’

  I hoped the sickness would pass soon. Mine had disappeared altogether after a few weeks, I kept telling her optimistically, adding that then I’d felt fantastic, and keeping very quiet about my friend Marie from Oliver’s toddler group who had thrown up every day for the full nine months.

  Sam nodded and disappeared into the front room. I began to count out potatoes, making generous provisions for hung-over sons – I’d heard Gabriel’s and Ben’s voices floating up the stairs at 1 a.m. followed by the smell of toast (my scented candle was in a cupboard for the foreseeable) and hadn’t seen my youngest since – and a daughter whose concept of carbohydrates could be elastic. Glad I’d been firm about not letting her father hang about.

  Rob had dropped her and Ben, three suitcases and a dozen half-filled bin-liners at the house the previous afternoon. He’d let me know that Fiona had relented and they were once again bonding over Farrow and Ball charts for the new property Fiona liked. But it hadn’t stopped him lingering hopefully or Tilly hissing in my ear about dinner.

  ‘You like feeding people,’ she’d said accusingly. ‘You always say one more doesn’t make any difference.’

  Unless it’s an ex-spouse with a penchant for breathing on you.

  As I dumped the boys’ empties in the recycling bin, I spotted Ingrid coming down the road.

  ‘How’s your mother?’ she asked, softer and more sympathetic than usual. I told her about my detour to Margate after I’d been measuring in Dover. Now Gerald was there, the house looked more loved and homely again. ‘She’s finally seeing a consultant at the end of the month, I said, adding as I felt a rush of gratitude to Ingrid, and before I could stop myself: ‘Would you like a coffee?’

  ‘You look busy,’ she said, surveying the trays and dishes lined up next to the hob. ‘Got all the family here?’ The usual sharp note had returned to her voice. I pulled china mugs from the cupboard and smiled at her.

  ‘Yes, Oliver and Sam are staying with me for a while. Ben and Tilly arrived last night …’ I explained about my daughter’s new job and how she too was going to be around for a bit. ‘I don’t know how she’s managed to accumulate so much stuff. There wasn’t a spare inch of space left in Rob’s car–’

  I stopped abruptly, hoping talk of my offspring wouldn’t lead to Ingrid mentioning David …

  ‘He’s back again, is he?’ she said, tartly.

  ‘Only long enough to remind me why we got divorced. Biscuit?’

  As Ingrid shook her head, I moved quickly onto the garden and the work involved in getting it straight. Ingrid nodded. ‘I’d like to see your pond …’

  We carried our cups outside. It was warm and the grass was long and springy beneath our feet. ‘I’ve got a lawn-mower at last,’ I told Ingrid, ‘I’m hoping to persuade one of the boys …’

  ‘But the daisies are so pretty.’ She bent over my pond, looking into the depths. ‘Any frogs or newts?’

  ‘There was frogspawn–’

  ‘Mum!’ Oliver was standing in the back doorway. ‘Jinni’s here.’

  She was already stepping outside. I looked at her, startled, as Oliver reappeared, his tone more urgent: ‘I think you need to look in the oven …’

  I sprinted past Jinni and got the pie out before the golden perfection of its crust could descend into charcoal, gave the potatoes a poke, the casserole a stir and added the batter to the now-sizzling sausages before racing back out into the garden, where Jinni and Ingrid stood facing each other two metres apart as if ready for a shoot-out.

  Jinni swung around and gave me an exuberant hug. ‘Hello, girlfriend! Long time no see. Sorry about that. I’ve had a wood burner installed!’ She was smiling widely, dark hair tied up in a bright scarf, silver bracelets jangling. She indicated her dusty overalls. ‘I’ve spent bloody hours stacking logs!’ She turned to Ingrid. ‘I had that tree chopped down,’ she said, challenge in her voice. ‘The bloke from the council agreed completely. Said I’d better get on with it before it rotted completely and fell on me!’

  Ingrid shrugged. ‘Oh, if it was diseased–’

  Jinni gave a hard laugh. ‘Don’t you care anymore? That’s not like you, Ingrid. You don’t usually let a spot of reason put you off. Losing your edge?’

  Ingrid shrugged again and gave one of her steely sweet smiles. ‘I’ve got more pressing concerns with the new leisure centre. It’s a monstrous building – it’s going to ruin the view, the back elevation will be blocking out the light to a child’s bedroom–’ Jinni was already looking bored.

  ‘No doubt they’ll soon back off when they see you coming,’ she said dryly.

  Ingrid ignored her. ‘So,’ she went on smoothly, ‘I have, as David would put it, bigger fish to fry.’ There was a small pause while Ingrid looked at Jinni with an expression I couldn’t read. ‘And he doesn’t want me to cause trouble for you.’

  Jinni gave a sarcastic smile and adopted a sugary tone of her own: ‘How generous of him.’

  I looked from one to the other, confused, my heart beating harder at the mention of David. ‘I’m sorry, I really need to get back in the kitchen,’ I said uncomfortably. ‘I’ve got cooking to do. Would either of you–’

  ‘I must get on too.’ Ingrid was brisk. ‘Thank you, Tess.’ I followed her through to the front door, leaving Jinni in the kitchen. Gabriel had arrived while we were outside and was perched on the arm of the sofa chatting to Oliver and Sam. He jumped up and hugged me. ‘Tess! You’re looking great.’

  He rummaged in a rucksack at his feet and produced a box of chocolate mints. ‘I brought you these.’ He pointed to a carrier bag on the floor near Oliver. ‘And there’s some beers …’

  ‘That’s really kind of you.’ I gave him a kiss. ‘You know Ingrid, don’t you?’

  As Ingrid was saying goodbye, Tilly sprinted down the stairs, wearing a new top and a lot of make-up. ‘Gabe!’

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Malcolm strode towards me and pressed a bottle of red wine into my hand. ‘It’s a decent one,’ he said. ‘I’ve been wanting it to go to a good home.’

  Ingrid, beside me, looked Malcolm up and down. ‘Are you well?’ she enquired.

  ‘I’m still here.’

  ‘I hope you’re going to be reporting on the goings-on with that so-called community centre,’ she said. ‘The head of the company that’s got the contract to build it is in the Masons with Dick Barford! Head of Planning,’ she added, as Malcolm remained impassive.

  ‘I know who he is,’ he growled. ‘Speak to him–’ Malcolm jerked his head towards Gabriel. ‘He’s head of conspiracy theories.’

  Gabriel flushed and Malcolm gave a loud guffaw. ‘You can do one of your “investigations”.’

  ‘He’s been very good, actually, as far as my problems go!’ Jinni was now in the doorway behind us, putting special emphasis on the word ‘problems’ and flashing Ingrid a look. My heart sank.

  But Malcolm appraised her keenly and then gave a grin. ‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ he said. ‘Although I’ve heard how camera-shy you are.’

  ‘I hate those posed pictures,’ Jinni said. ‘Pointing at the damage with a long face.’

  ‘Yes, they’re terrible,’ agreed Malcolm. ‘But then Pete is a terrible photographer.’

  ‘You should be a bit more loyal to your staff,’ said Ingrid tartly.

  ‘They’ve got jobs, haven’t they?’

  Ingrid shook her head as if he were worth no further effort and opened the front door. She nodded at me. ‘Give my best wishes to your mother.’

  ‘I was worried there for a moment,’ said Malcolm, when she’d gone. ‘Thought she was staying.’

  ‘That’s enough to put anyone off their food,’ said Jinni. ‘She’s such a pain. Her and that tosser son.’

  ‘Do you want to eat with us? Having Jinni here again in my house, humming with energy, made me want her company despite my wounded feelings. But she’d just been rude about David, so presumably
she wasn’t …

  ‘I can’t!’ Jinni pulled a face. ‘I’d love to but –’ She gave me a wink. ‘Something just came up …’

  ‘Have fun,’ said Malcolm.

  ‘Are you in tomorrow?’ Tilly asked. ‘I’ve got a TIE job I want to tell you about.’

  ‘Hey fab! Yep – come over.’ Jinni turned back to me. ‘We’ve got to catch up too. I don’t where the time has gone.’ She blew a kiss around the room. Then winked again. ‘Well I do! Have a good one!’

  She was gone and aromas from the kitchen were calling me. ‘Where’s Ben?’ I asked Tilly.

  ‘Still lying on his bed groaning,’ she said, smiling at Gabriel. ‘Was he really rotten last night?’

  ‘He was okay,’ said Gabriel tactfully.

  ‘Well, tell him to come down now,’ I instructed. ‘And Oliver, could you do some drinks for Gabriel and Malcolm, please. ‘Tilly, finish laying the table, darling? I got distracted when Ingrid came …’

  ‘I’ll help you.’ Gabriel sprang to his feet as usual. Malcolm looked cynical.

  ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ I told him firmly, when they’d gone into the dining room. ‘Always so considerate.’

  ‘He could do with considering what makes a decent news story,’ said Malcolm, but there was none of his usual rancour. ‘I’m looking forward to this,’ he went on. ‘I haven’t had steak and kidney for months.’

  He looked almost moved when I brought in the serving dishes. ‘You are truly an angel in human form,’ he declared, unfolding his napkin. He surveyed the table. ‘Toad in the hole too. My cup runneth over.’

  Ben, who had brightened up since the food arrived, took the slab of batter and sausages Tilly passed him and began to pile potatoes onto his plate beside it. ‘Next best thing to a full fry-up,’ he said. ‘I’ve been gagging for one all day.’

  ‘You’re vile,’ said Tilly, looking at his plate disapprovingly and helping herself to broccoli spears, ‘you’ll be dead of a coronary by the time you’re thirty.’