by Susan Lewis
Jasmine said, “Have you still not told her about him, Nana? I thought you had.”
As Claudia’s eyes widened Marcy became defensive. “There’s nothing to tell,” she retorted. “He’s just a friend.”
“But you’ve got a thing for him. You told me that yourself.”
“I didn’t say a thing, I said he’s an interesting man, that’s all.”
As she listened to them squabble and tease Claudia realized that her suspicions earlier were correct: this was why her mother always made such an effort when she went out. “Well,” she commented loudly, “I thought if any one of us was going to come home with a boyfriend it would have been Jasmine . . .”
“He’s not a boyfriend,” Marcy interrupted. “In fact, I’ve never been alone with him, apart from for a few minutes here and there. However, it seems that now might be as good a time as any to tell you that in the event he does get around to asking me out, I will probably say yes.”
Claudia watched Jasmine bounce into her grandmother’s arms, as thrilled as if she had a potential date lined up herself.
Marcy regarded her daughter curiously. “Would you rather I didn’t go?” she asked over Jasmine’s shoulder.
Jasmine spun around. “Don’t you dare say no,” she warned her mother.
“I wasn’t going to,” Claudia protested. “It’s not up to me, and actually I think it’s . . . wonderful. I’m just asking myself. . . . I mean, are you going to be interested in this new house if you’ve got other plans?”
“For heaven’s sake,” Marcy exclaimed. “Talk about getting things out of perspective. I want to see the house and if it’s right for us, I want to live in it.”
“Excuse me, what house?” Jasmine demanded. “No one’s mentioned anything to me about a house.”
“I saw it today,” Claudia explained. “It’s on Westleigh Heights: as far as I’m concerned it’s a dream home—or it will be—and I can hardly wait for you to see it.” She turned back to her mother, determined to hide how crushed she’d feel if Marcy answered her next question with a no. “Are you sure you want to live with us? You’re used to your independence . . .”
“And you’re going to rob me of it? Don’t be silly. Of course I want us to be together. It’s what we planned and it’s what we’ll do. Now, how many glasses are we going to need, and someone should fill up the ice bucket because our guests will be here any minute.”
Andee and Leanne arrived promptly at seven, bringing Abby with them, and in what seemed no time at all Claudia was opening a second bottle of Moët while the guests ate canapés and lounged on the sofas as if this was somewhere they came all the time. There was an easy flow of conversation right from the start and virtually no awkward moments, apart from Claudia’s embarrassment when Andee and Leanne lavished praise on her various handicrafts.
“She makes everything,” Jasmine stated proudly, “candles, diffusers, lamps, soap, photo frames. She even did some of the paintings . . .”
“OK,” Claudia said softly, “I think that’s enough.”
Look how pathetic you are, lapping it up as if the junk you make is something special. Get a grip, you’re embarrassing yourself.
Claudia shook Marcus’s vicious words off with a shiver and forced herself to reconnect with the real conversation.
“You’ve transformed this place,” Andee was commenting admiringly. “I came to view it for Dan, a friend of Graeme’s, about a year ago and it was nothing like this then. He decided it was too big for him, but it seems just right for you.”
“It’s a great spot,” Leanne agreed, “but isn’t the noise a problem?”
With a sigh, Marcy said, “It was worse during the summer when the windows were open, so many parties and concerts on the beach . . .”
“Which were totally cool,” Jasmine put in quickly, “you even came to some of them.”
“It was a Beatles night,” Marcy explained, “so we all went. And actually, it wasn’t the music that bothered us so much as all the shouting and swearing when the bars turned out. It still happens, but at least the windows are closed now.”
“Do you get people parking in your space in front of the building?” Andee asked sympathetically.
“All the time,” Claudia groaned, “which is another reason we’ll be glad to move.”
“Are you thinking of it?” Leanne asked, helping herself to another canapé.
“You should come and live nearer us,” Abby informed Jasmine.
“Actually, we might,” Claudia told her, and aware of Abby’s and Leanne’s interest piquing, she felt a little thrill of excitement as she said to Andee, “We’d like to view the coach house as soon as possible.”
“What coach house?” Abby demanded, looking from her to Jasmine and back again.
“It’s on Westleigh Heights,” Jasmine replied, “so if we do move there we’ll be about ten minutes from you and I’m definitely going to need a car.”
“Then you’d better work on passing your test,” Marcy reminded her.
“Give me a chance, I’ve only had three lessons.”
Accepting a top-up of champagne from Claudia, Andee said, “Let me know when the three of you are available and provided the others feel the same way you do, we’ll set everything in motion.”
“Thank you,” Claudia said warmly. “And don’t worry, I’ll be putting in orders for fabrics first thing tomorrow before I go to meet Cassie’s team. So, your commission remains my priority.”
“I’m not worried,” Andee assured her, and looking into Claudia’s eyes she added, “and you shouldn’t be either.”
It wasn’t until everyone had left that Claudia was able to say to her mother, “I think Andee knows something about us, or at least suspects it.”
Marcy frowned. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, I’m not sure.”
“You’re just paranoid,” Jasmine told her, carrying dishes through to the kitchen. “If you ask me, I think our little party went really well.”
“I’d agree with that,” Marcy responded, “although it seemed a bit odd that no one asked where we’re from, or what we were doing before we came here.”
“They know what Mum was doing,” Jasmine pointed out.
Marcy nodded pensively. “What do you tell Abby about your past?” she asked.
Jasmine shrugged. “Just that I was at school in London, and that my dad died when I was nine. Oh, and that Mum had a design shop. Other than that, it never really comes up. We’re kind of into other things, like studying, surfing, hanging out with friends, and in my case violin lessons, practice, and rehearsals.”
“So busy,” Claudia commented dryly.
“Tell me about it, and now you’re going to be as well. This is just the best thing for you, Mum, a new commission, a new house by the looks of it, so please don’t start getting all suspicious about things. Andee seems really nice, so whatever she said, I’m sure she didn’t mean anything bad by it.”
Finding herself able to believe that, Claudia smiled as she let go of some tension. “I guess I’m out of practice when it comes to making friends,” she sighed, and banishing the dark memories of Marcus that inevitably came to her mind, she added, “Time I learned to start trusting again.”
OUTSIDE ON THE Promenade Leanne and Andee were following Abby to the taxi rank, slowing their pace so as not to be overheard. “OK,” Leanne said, keeping her voice down, “are you going to tell me now why you didn’t want me to ask about their lives before they came here?”
Judging Abby to be sufficiently engrossed in her phone, Andee said, “I’m pretty sure they’re not who they’re saying they are.”
Leanne came to a standstill, eyes wide with surprise. “What on earth makes you say that?”
“You saw for yourself how talented Claudia is, and she wasn’t a bit fazed by the size of the order I’ve just put her way. This means she must have been in business before, and yet she doesn’t have an Internet presence or history, and nor does her mot
her.”
Leanne took a moment to process this. “So, who are they?” she asked, trying to get her head around it all.
Though Andee had a theory she decided to keep it to herself for now, and said, “I’m still working on it, but rest assured I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.”
“Well, that’s good, because Abby’s pretty tight with Jasmine, and I found myself warming to Claudia tonight. And her mother’s a delight.”
“Isn’t she?”
“Actually,” Leanne said as they started to walk on, “I’m thinking of inviting them to the little engagement party we’re throwing the Saturday after next. I take it you and Graeme are free?”
“We’ll make sure of it, and yes, do invite them. I think it would mean a lot to them, especially Claudia. Who else is on the list?”
“Family mostly, but I was wondering about asking Dan. Do you think he’ll come? He gets on very well with Tom.”
“I’m sure he will. I’m seeing him tomorrow for one of our RJ meetings. Would you like me to ask him?”
“No, I’ll do it myself, but perhaps you could assure him that we’re not trying to pair him off with Claudia, because that’s exactly what he’ll think when we introduce them.”
Andee frowned. “Aren’t we?” she countered dryly.
Leanne laughed. “I could say yes, but do we really want him to get involved with someone who might not be who she says she is, and who, for all we know, could take off again at any minute?”
“No,” Andee replied seriously, “we definitely don’t want to do that. And please, please don’t let her take off before the show home is done.”
Chapter Twelve
So, here’s a conversation I had today with Dan:
“How are you doing, Archie?”
“How do you think?”
“Tell me.”
“I’m crap. How else would you expect me to be?”
“I was hoping you might feel ready for more honesty about your mother.”
“I haven’t told any lies about her.”
“You haven’t told the entire truth either.”
It frigging gets me, the way he manages to know stuff he shouldn’t. “Why do you want to know more about her? She’s got nothing to do with any of this.”
“She thinks she has.”
“You’ve talked to her?”
“Of course.”
“I could get really mad about that, Dan.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you, she’s got nothing to do with this. No one has. It’s just me. I’m the one who did it, right? That’s why I’m in here.”
He doesn’t say anything after that, and it really starts getting to me, like he knows I want to speak, but I don’t. Or not about my ma, anyway, so I end up suggesting we change the subject, and he predictably says, “To what?”
“Anything you like. I know, let’s talk about you. What makes you do this stuff with people like me? I suppose you think you’re some sort of Samaritan or something.”
He laughs at that and I laugh too, though God knows why because it wasn’t funny. “Do you have a mother?” I ask him.
“No. She died a few years ago.”
“What about your father?”
“I lost him when I was sixteen.”
“Mm, tough. Did you like him?”
“Very much. Do you like yours?”
“Give me a break. I don’t even know who he is.”
“Then who’s BJ?”
Some of his questions set my teeth on edge and make my fists clench. “He was my handler, you know that, and he’s definitely not my old man.”
“How did your mother come to know him?”
I go silent, and he’s the first to break it.
“You know you could end up in prison for a very long time. Is that what you want?”
“Makes no difference to me.”
“Why do you say that when we both know it isn’t true?”
I just shrug.
“What are you hiding, Archie? I know there’s something, so why don’t you tell me what it is?”
“I’m protecting my ma, right?” I nearly shout at him. “If I tell you anything they’ll go after her and it won’t be pretty. Is that what you want?”
He doesn’t say anything, but we both know it’s not what he wants. “Who are we talking about, Archie?”
I don’t answer, but I don’t think he expects me to.
“Wouldn’t it be better for your mother if you told the truth?” he asks.
“I already have,” I remind him. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.”
“I mean the whole truth.”
“You’ve got it.”
He shakes his head and I can see how disappointed he is in me. Join the club, Dan. Membership’s free.
In my head I’m thinking about you and what difference it would make to you if I said any more—and the answer is, it’s too late, it wouldn’t change anything, so what’s the point?
I committed the crime, so I do the time.
He left just after that and I was so mad and scared and all kinds of other shit that I decided to sit down and write you what happened, like as if you’re ever going to see this, or even care.
Don’t worry, I’m not seeing you as some kind of friend I can run off my mouth to, or anything like that. I get how sick it would make you feel if I did. I guess it’s just easier to write down how afraid I am that he won’t come back than it is to tell him.
Chapter Thirteen
The past two weeks had been so hectic—and challenging—that there were times when Claudia had seriously questioned her sanity for taking on such an order without her tried-and-trusted team around her. However, Cassie’s workers were proving to be every bit as skillful and committed as any Claudia had worked with—and were probably already friends for life since learning they were going to be paid almost double their usual rate if they managed to bring things in on time. Why not? She didn’t need the money, what she needed was the distraction and adrenaline rush, the sense of reconnecting with who she really was, and a new place to belong, which was already starting to happen.
Virtually overnight the living space of the flat had turned into one big workroom with sewing machines at each end of the dining table, two computers in the middle, bolts of fabric cluttering the sofas, and curtain poles turning the floor into an obstacle course. Since the original discussions with Andee many changes had been made to the order regarding length, style, even color, all with Andee’s approval, largely due to delivery times—or because Claudia had come up with what she hoped might be an even better design.
During this coordinated chaos Graeme, Andee’s partner, had taken her, her mother, and Jasmine to view the coach house, and to her relief they’d also fallen in love with it on sight. By the end of that day Graeme had accepted their offer, and since no mortgage was involved there was a good chance it would be theirs by the end of the month. In excited anticipation of this, Marcy was already driving about the countryside visiting antique markets and reclamation yards in search of original Georgian features such as cornicing, shutters, even pilasters. After photographing them she’d relay the shots to Claudia for a decision on whether or not to buy.
It was a whirlwind of activity on every level, and with the show home scheduled for completion in less than two weeks Claudia could feel the pressure building.
However, this evening, in spite of needing to catch up on some sleep, she’d happily set everything aside for a few hours so that she, her mother, and Jasmine could go to a party at Leanne’s. They’d been thrilled to receive the invitation, especially when they’d discovered that it was to celebrate Tom and Leanne’s engagement.
“We must get a card and take a gift,” she’d informed her mother as soon as they’d agreed they would go.
“But we hardly know them, what on earth would we get?” Marcy cried.
“That’s easy,” Jasmine piped up. “We can wrap a selection of Mum’s special scen
ted bags. You know, the ones that go in drawers and cupboards. Everyone always likes them.”
With that agreed they only had to decide what to wear, which was something Claudia didn’t give much thought to until she got out of the shower on the evening of the party and stood, wrapped in a towel, staring into her closet.
“Well, you can’t go like that,” Jasmine informed her as she passed the open door. “Are you in need of some help?”
Claudia was, and more than Jasmine realized, because wrenching her mind from the anxiety she used to feel before nights out with Marcus was making it hard to move.
Do your best to look glamorous. I know it’s hard, but don’t let me down.
Seeming to sense what was happening, Jasmine rapidly sprang into action, and less than twenty minutes later Claudia was standing in front of her cheval mirror amazed by the transformation her daughter had achieved. She was now wearing a knee-length black lace dress with long gauzy sleeves and discreet V back, suede pumps with three-inch heels, and the diamond earrings Joel had given her as a wedding present. She’d been in jeans and baggy tops for so many months now that it was like looking at a stranger, especially with the way Jasmine had styled her hair. She’d caught it up in an artful French roll at the back, held in place by a million grips and a single crystal-studded chopstick, while at the front several loose strands fell to each side of her face, creating an effect that was both casual and classy.
“You look sensational,” Jasmine declared, admiring her own handiwork in the mirror. “You know your neck is one of your best features, and with your hair like this it shows off how lovely and slender it is.”
Claudia smiled. “Dad always liked my neck,” she said, thinking of the way Joel would run his fingers over it and kiss it and tell her how beautiful she was.
Jasmine smiled, but then saw her mother’s expression suddenly change. “What is it?” she asked.
Claudia was trapped in another awful moment and couldn’t seem to escape it. Marcus’s thick hands circling her neck and squeezing . . .
“You’re thinking about him,” Jasmine stated, her eyes darkening with worry. “I can tell.”
