‘You really thought he would do the right thing?’ Ivy looked exasperated. ‘Haven’t I taught you anything? Never expect anything from a bloke and you won’t be disappointed. And trust me: having no man is better than having a man who doesn’t want you. Having no man is better than having a no-good coward. You don’t want a yellow-belly in your life. He might think he’s something special, but a flying jacket and a pair of goggles doesn’t make you a hero.’
Ivy sat down in a chair, exhausted by her diatribe. She was nearly running out of steam, but she jabbed a finger at Jilly to emphasise her point.
‘In the meantime, you are not settling for second best or giving a damn that he can’t step up. He has no idea what he’s given up. He’ll never meet anyone as good as you.’
‘You’re right,’ said Jilly. ‘I know you are.’
Jilly knew that she had no choice. She would never be able to live with herself if she took the easy way out.
‘I am,’ said Ivy. ‘Only next time, take precautions, will you?’
‘There won’t be a next time,’ sighed Jilly. ‘Never ever.’
‘Yes, there will. You’ll meet your hero one day. I know you will. Someone who deserves you and will look after you.’
Jilly sat there, feeling a little bit dazed. She was going to have a baby, without a father, all on her own. Ivy took her hand in hers.
‘I’m proud of you,’ she said softly. ‘You’re the strongest person I know.’
‘I’m not strong,’ said Jilly. ‘I’m a wet blanket. I still cry every night.’
‘That doesn’t make you a wet blanket,’ said Ivy. ‘It makes you real.’
Jilly nodded, gripping her friend’s fingers. They were an unlikely coalition, the two of them, so different in background and attitude and ambition, but somehow they balanced each other out perfectly. Ivy gave her courage and helped her see the world for what it was, and she kept Ivy in check and gave her a sense of security. They would be friends for ever, she felt sure.
The two of them looked up as Helena walked in and broke the moment. She looked at them sharply, because they both looked guilty; complicit in something clandestine.
‘What’s up?’
‘Mind your own beeswax,’ said Ivy.
‘Actually,’ said Jilly, ‘she might as well know.’
After all, Helena had had three babies. Maybe she could give her advice. And what was the point of keeping it secret? It only added to the difficulty of the situation, and it would become pretty obvious before long.
‘Know what?’
‘The thing is …’ said Jilly, looking coy.
‘Oh,’ said Helena, waving her hand towards Jilly’s stomach. ‘That! That’s obvious, isn’t it? I’ve known for ages.’
‘How?’ Ivy was furious.
‘Yes, how?’ Jilly was curious.
‘You can see by how you carry yourself. Everyone starts to waddle a bit, even before they show. And I can tell by what you look like in the morning – all washed out and a bit green. And here.’ She patted her chest. ‘That’s always a giveaway.’
Then she smiled.
‘Don’t you worry about it. You’re going to be a lovely mum. Really lovely.’
There was obviously no question in Helena’s mind about whether Jilly would have the baby. Nor did she seem to view it as a catastrophe. This unspoken vote of confidence made Jilly feel a little stronger. Maybe the future wasn’t so terrifying after all.
21
Antonia and Dom weren’t supposed to contact each other, except in working hours about business. That had been the deal. But of course they did, because old habits die hard. Antonia called Dom because she cared and worried about him, and Dom called Antonia because he didn’t have anyone else to offload on.
‘Laura still won’t speak to me,’ he said. ‘What am I supposed to do? We can’t go on like this for ever.’
Antonia looked out of her window. The clocks had gone back and it was defiantly dark and chilly. For a fleeting moment, she debated getting Dom to bring round a takeaway. What harm would it do? She missed him and his solid warmth.
She walked away from the window and sank into the sofa. She wasn’t going to cave in. She must stick to her principles.
‘Tell her if she won’t talk to you, you’ll file for divorce,’ she suggested.
‘I can’t do that! It’s not true for a start.’
‘Well, someone’s got to make a move. You’re right – you can’t stay in stalemate indefinitely.’
‘It’s awful. And I hate lying to the girls. Every time I speak to them I have to pretend I’ve just left the house or I’m on my way home. I’m living a lie.’ Dom hated the shame of hiding what had happened from his daughters. He’d always had such an open and loving relationship with both Jaz and Willow. Knowing he was duping them filled him with even more self-loathing than he already had.
‘What’s Laura said to them?’
‘Nothing. She’s adamant she doesn’t want them to know, in case Willow gets stressed.’
‘OK, then tell her if she won’t talk to you, you’ll tell the girls.’
‘Oh my God, no way! She’d kill me. They’d kill me.’
Antonia sighed. Didn’t he understand this was a game of chess and you had to make moves? Even if you were bluffing? She reminded herself he hadn’t had the benefit of her training.
‘And everything’s falling apart at Wellington Buildings,’ Dom went on. ‘The landscape gardener can’t get to me for another three weeks because she’s been held up on another job. The slate guy put the wrong template on for the basement kitchen but he says it’s my fault and because there’s no record I can’t prove it – that’s eight hundred quid down the pan.’
‘Can’t you repurpose the slate?’ asked Antonia, practical as ever.
‘Yes, but that’s not the point. I still have to pay him or he won’t do me the amended worktop. And I don’t know where to put the old one really. It’s all just stress.’
‘So why isn’t there a record?’
‘Because I’m fucking useless and I should never have taken this on.’ Dom sighed. ‘I feel like jumping into the river. Then at least the life insurance would cover it.’
‘Don’t say things like that.’ She knew he was joking but it wasn’t funny.
‘Well, it would if I had any.’
‘You don’t have life insurance?’
‘Nope. Too expensive.’
‘Oh for God’s sake.’ Antonia loved Dom, but he could be totally irresponsible. And of course Laura wasn’t the sort of wife who would badger him about things like life insurance. If Antonia was married to him …
But she wasn’t, and she never would be, and the more she discovered about him she realised it would never have worked. Their relationship had only thrived as a clandestine bubble, with neither of them responsible for each other.
Only she felt partly responsible for what Dom was going through. If it hadn’t been for her encouragement, right at the beginning, he might not be in such a precarious financial position, hugely stressed, with his marriage in tatters.
Ironically, what had gone on between them had had no impact on Antonia’s private life or career or financial position. It was as if Dom had never happened. She was carrying on as normal.
But then, he’d taken risks and she’d had nothing to lose.
Was it her fault?
Yes. She’d enabled him. She knew she had. She knew there had been moments he could have turned his back, both on Wellington Buildings and their affair, but she had egged him on. Yet again, she was aware she had the power of persuasion; that she’d been trained to take the facts and twist them to suit. She was an arch manipulator.
OK, she thought, maybe the time had come for her to use that skill elsewhere.
Antonia felt as if she was walking the plank as she went up the path towards the front door of Number 11. Crunch, crunch, crunch went her pristine white suede trainers on the chippings, the windows staring at her as she appr
oached, hostile and wary.
The house was as perfect as she’d imagined it. The house you would choose if you were offered any house in Bath. Imposing and impressive but not intimidating or unmanageable, it was tucked away with enough garden around it to stop curious tourists peering in.
A home. A family home.
The front door, which was to one side of the shuttered sash windows, was tall and wide and pale yellow. Antonia knew straight away she would never have thought of pale yellow for a front door, but as soon as she saw it she knew it was just right and the door could not have been any other colour.
She hesitated for a moment before pressing the white porcelain button of the doorbell. She jumped at the sound. It was loud and much more aggressive than she expected; she would have preferred a gentle ding dong to announce her arrival. But of course the house was huge – four storeys – so it had to reach every corner.
It was a while before she heard anything, but then a voice called ‘Coming!’ and there were footsteps and she thought about turning and heading back down the path. Or suddenly thinking up a lie. She could be a charity canvasser. Or have got the wrong house. She couldn’t do this.
And then the door opened and Laura was standing there. She was in jeans and an old sweatshirt, her hair half up, half down, her face pink from running to the door. She seemed to have paint on her hands and in her hair. She smiled with polite puzzlement, as you did when answering the door to a stranger you thought perhaps you recognized but weren’t sure where from.
‘Hello?’
Antonia stared.
She was startled by Laura’s beauty. The simple beauty peculiar to people who had no idea how alluring they were: plump smooth skin, shining hair, bright eyes. How had Dom described his wife to her? He’d said she had long dark hair and didn’t wear much make-up and was conscious about her weight, so Antonia had pictured someone dumpy and frumpy. She had always managed to resist looking at photos, because she wasn’t a clingy, needy mistress who wanted to make comparisons.
But now Laura was standing in front of her she wondered how on earth Dom could have chosen her over this creature. Then she remembered he hadn’t chosen her over Laura at all; he’d simply had his cake and eaten it. Laura was the cake, toothsome and moreish. Antonia was just the crumbs by comparison. The dry sponge to Laura’s thickly iced showstopper.
Laura was frowning. Then a look came into her eyes: recognition mixed with suspicion.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s you.’
Of course she knew who Antonia was. The power of Google. What woman didn’t do a search for her husband’s mistress online? Antonia wondered what Laura had thought when she saw her photo. She’d probably been mystified and wondered what on earth he saw in her.
‘Can we talk?’
Laura’s expression was hard. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’
‘No, of course not. I completely understand. But there is something I need to tell you. It’s really important.’
Laura leaned against the doorjamb with her arms crossed. ‘Go on.’
She was intensely hostile. She wasn’t even going to ask Antonia in. She couldn’t blame her. Why would she? She was surprised though – Dom had always described her as gentle and passive. Someone who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. She hadn’t expected to feel frightened of Laura herself, only of her reactions.
She swallowed, plucking up the courage to carry on, when all she wanted to do was run back down the garden path.
‘I’ve never been so ashamed of anything in my life. It’s not the sort of person I am—’
‘Oh God,’ said Laura. ‘Spare me. I honestly don’t care what sort of a person you think you are.’
She spat the words out with distaste. Antonia flinched.
‘I understand why you feel like that. I would too.’ Oh God, whatever she said sounded so limp. ‘But what I want to say isn’t about me. It’s about Dom. And you. Dom adores you. He absolutely does. Whenever he spoke about you, I felt jealous. Jealous because I knew I would never, ever make him feel like you do. You’re his world. You and the girls and this house. He wasn’t ever really interested in me.’
She looked Laura straight in the eyes. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do, because she was afraid of what she would see in there. Disgust. Distaste.
‘I am not worth you losing your marriage. Please don’t throw it all away because of me. I am nothing and no one. And you – you’re everything to him. Please believe me.’
‘Oh,’ said Laura in surprise. ‘Well. That wasn’t what I expected. I expected some sort of plea for me to let him go, so you could be together.’
‘Oh my God. No. No, no, no.’
‘Well, I hear what you’re saying. But if what you say is true, I don’t understand why. Why he did it. What was the point? I mean, really? What was the point?’
She looked Antonia up and down as if searching for a clue, but could clearly see nothing that shed light on the mystery.
Antonia looked miserable. She couldn’t give Laura an answer. Not without going into unnecessary detail.
‘I suppose,’ she ventured at length, ‘everyone makes mistakes sometimes.’
‘Hmmm,’ was Laura’s only response. Dismissive rather than thoughtful.
Antonia could see she wasn’t going to achieve what she came here to do without upping her game.
‘I made him need me,’ she blurted out. ‘I made out the legal problems he was having with his properties were much worse than they were. I promised him I’d sort them out. Sometimes I would make it look as if he was going to lose a deal. Then I made it look as if I was responsible for saving it. He was grateful to me. I took advantage of that.’
As she said the words, she realised it was partly true. Not that she had ever quite lied, but she had played up her part in smoothing things over. Because she wanted to impress Dom. She wanted his gratitude. She loved seeing the relief on his face, and knowing she had brought that about. Oh God, she thought. She was a controlling psychopath. How had she not recognised how wrong her behaviour was? She’d enjoyed the power she had over him, and manipulated him to make up for her own insecurities.
And ruined his marriage as a result. It was a terrible thing to have done, and the only thing that mattered now was convincing Laura to forgive him.
‘He’s miserable,’ she said. ‘Utterly miserable. Don’t think for a minute he’s gone running into my arms. Quite the opposite.’
Laura was looking down at her fingernails, scraping a bit of paint off. She seemed almost bored. ‘Do people know you’ve got a habit of screwing your clients?’ she asked casually.
Antonia looked alarmed. ‘No. I promise you, it’s not common knowledge. I’ve never said anything to anyone.’ She paused, then added in a small voice, ‘And it’s not a habit.’
‘Kettle and Sons has been our family solicitor for three generations. I’d have expected more professional behaviour. I wonder what James would say if he knew?’
Antonia drew herself up and faced Laura. ‘I’m not sure he needs to know. How will that help?’
There was steel in her voice.
Laura chewed on her thumbnail for a moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I can’t carry on this conversation. I’ve got things to do.’
Then she shut the door firmly in Antonia’s face.
Antonia was left staring at the yellow door. She had never felt so humiliated in her life.
Laura ran back up the stairs to the rooms she was painting. By the time she reached the top, she was breathless. She felt sick. If only she’d ignored the doorbell, but she’d thought it might be a delivery: stuff had been arriving all week.
What a bloody nerve the girl had, turning up on the doorstep! It had taken her totally by surprise. Laura hated confrontation; hated being backed into a corner. She should have slammed the door in her face. It was an invasion of privacy. And totally unfair, to take her by surprise like that.
She plonked herself down on th
e top step to mull over what had happened – the two rooms were bare except for the bed frames and the odd bit of furniture, so there was nowhere to sit.
Her primary reaction was amazement at how un-mistressy Antonia looked. Laura wasn’t bitchy, but she was rather shocked by her nondescript appearance: she was even more normal and ordinary and mousy in the flesh than in her photograph. But perhaps that was an act? Perhaps underneath her neat navy-blue clothing she was wearing crotchless knickers and a push-up bra and did all the magical things in bed that Laura would never dream of nor initiate. Not that Dom had ever complained or looked bored or hinted at anything more risqué or daring than she felt comfortable with. She had her minxy moments. She smiled at the memories, then felt a bit sad. It hadn’t been enough …
Laura couldn’t quite believe how cruel she had been, mentioning James Kettle. It wasn’t in her nature to make people squirm. But she had hit a raw nerve. She could see by the anguish on Antonia’s face that she minded more about being called unprofessional than immoral. She wondered if everything she had said was true, about painting herself as some sort of conveyancing guru. Dom would have fallen for that hook, line and sinker, she knew. He hated the legal side of the job. He would love someone who took all that stress away from him.
As she sat there, she realised that was what Antonia had given him that she hadn’t. Reassurance. Something that Laura knew she couldn’t. She hadn’t a clue about any of it. She would just murmur ‘I’m sure it will sort itself out’ whenever there was an issue with a project; whenever he came home ranting about a loophole or a structural defect or a piece of missing paperwork. What help was that to a man under stress?
She’d neglected him. As a wife, it was her duty to take an interest and support him. But she’d been too wrapped up in Willow and hospital appointments and prescriptions to worry about indemnities and completion certificates. It wouldn’t have killed her to get more involved, would it? No wonder Dom had found solace with Antonia. She had given him the support he needed, and he was grateful.
Hang on a minute, thought Laura. Why am I suddenly taking the blame for this? Being grateful to Antonia didn’t give Dom the right to have an affair with her.
A Family Recipe Page 21
