by Susan Lewis
‘Let me think about it,’ Patsy said, sipping her wine.
Neve waited.
Patsy continued to think. ‘We know from this,’ she said, nodding towards the screen, ‘that his life has changed dramatically, but we need to know what that means. After all, your father’s life changed dramatically, and look what it meant for him. Sorry, but you get my point.’
‘It can’t be as bad as that,’ Neve responded, ‘because he’s obviously not banged up.’
Patsy spluttered with laughter. ‘True,’ she conceded, ‘but you don’t need me to tell you what a difficult time Mum’s had of it, so we need to be ultra-protective.’
‘Exactly, but you used to know him and if you ask me he sounds like he needs a friend, and so does Mum. OK, you’re here now, but you’re going off to Paris soon, and anyway, it’s not the same thing.’
‘Not at all,’ Patsy agreed, wondering if she could ask Neve to take her love life in hand. ‘You know what I think?’ she said, decisively. ‘I think we should go downstairs to that ludicrously posh dining room and brainstorm this over lobster and foie gras.’
Neve’s eyes boggled. ‘Never had either,’ she responded, ‘but I’m game for anything, so lead the way.’
‘OK, here’s what I think,’ Patsy declared, after a smartly uniformed waiter had finished serving them a terrine of ham hock with foie gras. ‘We need to find out, first and foremost, if Alan’s married, because if he is, he stays buried in history.’
‘Do you think he’d have answered if he was?’ Neve asked, trying not to stare at the people on the next table, because she was sure one of them was Heidi Klum, the supermodel.
‘Yes, it’s her,’ Patsy confirmed, ‘but try to stay focused, there’s a love. To answer your question, anything’s possible, so before we mention anything to Mum about her blast from the past we need to be sure. How’s your terrine?’
‘Fantastic. I could live on it. I don’t suppose they’d let me take some home for Lola?’
With a laugh Patsy said, ‘I’m not sure they do doggy bags here, but tell you what, we’ll pick up some foie gras from the Caviar House in the morning. It’s just along the road. Now, what we need to focus on next is our reply to Alan’s email asking him some direct questions, such as his marital status, if he has any children, exactly where he’s living – London’s a big place – and how rich he is.’
Neve choked. ‘You’re not seriously going to ask him that?’ she gulped.
‘Maybe not in so many words, but it’s important to find out, don’t you think? Anyway, if he’s a professional psychologist he should have a decent enough income, presuming he has clients, and his email indicates he has.’
‘I think we should ask for a photograph too,’ Neve suggested. ‘OK, he was dead fit all those years ago, but for all we know he might be really fat by now, or have lost all his hair, or his teeth.’
Laughing, Patsy said, ‘Good idea. I wonder if we should send one of Mum.’
‘No, not until we’ve seen what he’s like first. We don’t want him getting all excited about seeing her, then have to tell him he’s a muppet so he needs to forget it.’
Laughing again, Patsy finished up her starter and reached for her wine. ‘So, let’s move this on a stage,’ she said. ‘Presuming he does still have hair and teeth, and is suitably solvent, at what point do we fess up that it’s us and not Mum sending the emails? Or should we make a clean breast of it to her first, and let her decide how to go forward?’
Neve chewed a large mouthful of olive bread as she pondered. ‘I think,’ she eventually replied, ‘that we should make that decision after we’ve heard back from him.’ Then, appearing slightly less confident, ‘Do you think she’s going to be angry when she finds out? She’s always telling me that she never wants to get involved with anyone again.’
‘Oh, everyone says that when they’ve been hurt,’ Patsy broke in dismissively. ‘They never mean it, unless they’re me, of course, because I am definitely never going down that road again. It’s like being a hitch-hiker who keeps getting chucked out miles from where you want to be. It takes too long to find your way back, and even when you do you’re in a terrible mess. Mum’s different. She’s got much more to offer where a relationship’s concerned, and she and Alan were always very close when we were young. Did you know he was her first? Oh God, listen to me. I shouldn’t be telling you things like that …’
‘It’s all right, I already know. She told me herself.’
Patsy was impressed. ‘How thoroughly modern of her. What else has she told you about him?’
‘Not much else actually. The subject only came up because we were talking about a girl in my class who got pregnant.’
‘At thirteen!’ Patsy cried.
‘Actually she’s fourteen, but I know you’re going to say that’s still too young.’
‘Well, it is.’ Then, seeming less sure, ‘Isn’t it?’
Neve shrugged. ‘Legally speaking, but loads of girls my age are doing it. I don’t mean getting pregnant, I mean having sex. It’s no big deal.’
Patsy was watching her closely. ‘So are you?’ she dared to venture.
Apparently unfazed, Neve said, ‘I haven’t gone all the way yet, but I’ve snogged a few boys and done some other stuff. You know.’
Afraid she might know, and not really wanting it spelled out, Patsy said, ‘Have you told Mum how far you’ve gone?’
‘Oh yeah. I tell her everything. She’s really easy to talk to, but she doesn’t open up much herself. Or not to me, because she’s afraid it’ll upset me. I suppose that’s normal though, isn’t it?’
Patsy nodded. Yes, she guessed it was. ‘Do you have a special boyfriend?’ she asked.
‘Not at the moment. There are a couple I like, but I’m not actually going out with anyone. What about you? Mum told me about the Mike thing. He sounds a real waste of space.’
With a sigh, Patsy said, ‘Sad, but true. In fact I was only reflecting earlier that when it comes to choosing the wrong men your mother and I are in a league of our own. Having said that, she did get it right once, with Alan, so provided he proves to be as dashing and eligible as he sounds, and definitely was back then, I think, my darling, you can feel proud of the way you’re trying to help turn her life around.’
Neve’s cheeks glowed pink with pleasure, and as she looked at her lovely young face Patsy could only wonder why it had taken her this long to realise that it wasn’t just a partner for her mother Neve wanted, it was a father for herself.
* * *
‘There’s nothing I’d love more than to come and spend a weekend at the Ritz,’ Susannah assured Neve on the phone the following morning, ‘but once I’ve finished at the school I’ve got a thousand things to do before I go to work tonight …’
‘Oh Mum, please. This place is amazing, you’ll love it, and we’re really close to Bond Street so we can go shopping and have lunch at Nicole Farhi. I know she’s a designer, but apparently there’s a restaurant downstairs in her shop. And Pats is going to arrange for us to have our hair cut and blow-dried in a salon where all the celebrities go, and even highlighted if we want …’
‘Neve, will you put Patsy on the line please,’ Susannah broke in, tucking the phone under her chin to begin drying her breakfast dishes.
Neve let out a groan of protest. ‘You’re going to tell her I have to come home, aren’t you?’ she demanded belligerently. ‘It’s not fair. Why do you always have to spoil things? Just because you hate having a nice time …’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Now, let me speak to Patsy please.’
‘I’m not coming home.’
‘Did you hear me say you have to?’
A moment later Pats came on the line with a cheery good morning.
In spite of her throbbing head Susannah managed a smile. ‘I take it you two are having a ball,’ she commented.
‘Something like that. You’re not joining us?’
‘I can’t. Apart from everything els
e on my plate, Lola was sounding a bit breathless when I rang just now, so I’m going round there when I’ve finished at the school to check up on her. Don’t tell Neve, she’ll only worry, and she deserves to have a nice weekend if you’re sure you’re up for it.’
‘Of course I am. She’s great company, and who else have I got to spoil, apart from you two? Why don’t you just come along to the hairdressers?’
With a grateful smile Susannah said, ‘I know my hair’s not looking as good as it could, but truly I’m quite capable of doing it myself, when I have time, and the hairdresser on Lavender Hill does a very good cut for less than ten quid.’
‘Susannah, will you just ease up for …’
‘I’m not arguing about this, Pats. I know you mean well, and I really appreciate it, but I want to hang on to what’s left of my pride, and besides, it’s my responsibility to get us through this bad patch.’
‘As your daughter is standing right next to me I’ll let you get away with that,’ Patsy told her sharply, ‘but be assured I’ll come back to it if you try spinning that nonsense again.’
‘I’m sure you will, but my answer will always be the same, you can treat Neve to all the haircuts, lunches and fancy hotels you like, she’s your god-daughter and you have that right, but …’
‘Didn’t you just hear me say ease up? Now tell me, how was last night?’
‘If you’re asking did I keep my clothes on, the answer’s yes.’
‘Good. So why are you sounding so irritable?’
‘Just tired, and wishing I didn’t have to go in again tonight.’
‘Then let me cover what you’d lose in wages.’
‘No! Now, I don’t want to end up falling out with you, so I’m going to ring off before you start trying to wave your magic wand again. Just remind Neve that she still has homework to do, so she should be back here by four at the latest tomorrow.’
After allowing Pats the rich retort she expected, Susannah put the phone down and went into the bathroom to turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for the hot water to come through she took a couple of Nurofen, then stood watching the mirror cloud around her pallid reflection. It was like watching herself fade into oblivion, which was exactly where she’d like to be heading, she was so achy and tired.
An hour later, she was carrying a bundle of sheets down the stairs when the letter box flapped open and the post sailed through. Since this was never her favourite moment of the day, she was about to pretend it hadn’t happened yet, when she recognised the markings, and handwriting, on one of the envelopes, and felt her heart stand still.
Dropping the laundry she picked up the letter and sat down on the bottom stair, wanting to rip it to shreds rather than find out what Duncan had to say. However, slotting a finger under the flap she tore it open and started to read.
Dear Susannah, I know you’re probably wishing I was dead rather than littering your doorstep with letters …
How right he was.
… but my boat hasn’t turned up for the Styx just yet, so I’m still on the same bank as you, so to speak. This means that when I finally get out of here – and I’m hoping it’s now going to be sooner rather than later – I will need some kind of capital to get started again.
When I asked Hugh to talk to an estate agent about selling the house, it wasn’t to put it on the market right away, it was only to get an idea of what it might be worth if we did decide to sell. Unfortunately, he misunderstood, and that’s why the For Sale sign appeared out of the blue.
Knowing full well he was trying to cover his tracks, in case this serious tactical error ever went before a judge, she felt her bile starting to rise.
I’m sorry for the shock it must have given you. You know I would never want to cause you any more distress than I already have. There have been times when I’ve considered asking you to forgive me, but I guess we’re a long way past that now, so I’m resigned to the fact that I must make a new life for myself when I come out.
The last thing I want is to try and force you and Neve to move house, particularly as you’re close to Lola where you are, which I know is important to you. Also, the mortgage repayments are quite low for a house that’s been valued at half a million quid. (Who’d ever have thought our part of Battersea would become so desirable when we first moved in there?)
Anyway, what I’m getting round to is the fact that since the house is in my name, technically speaking, it belongs to me. Obviously, as Neve’s father, it’s my duty to provide a home for her, and I want to do that, so what I’m proposing is that you increase the mortgage to give me my share (I’m only asking for fifty per cent, which after the original mortgage is paid off should be around two hundred grand) and that way you can stay where you are. I hope you think that’s reasonable. If not, please let me have your thoughts so we can start trying to find an answer that will give us both what we need.
As for custody of Neve, I don’t intend to fight you for that – I’m not foolish enough to think I’d win, unless she wanted to come to me, of course – but I would like to have some visiting rights.
In your dreams, Susannah seethed angrily.
I guess she’s old enough now to decide for herself whether or not she wants to see me, so I’ll write to her once I know whether or not my application for parole has been successful.
OK, I think I’ve covered everything I set out to, apart from the fact that if I am released it’s my intention to start again in Scotland. It’s where I was born, as you know, and I have the possibility of working with a new theatre company that’s just started up in Glasgow. Wish me luck, because, as you know, I’ve been a bit down on it these last few years.
Duncan
As Susannah’s fingers closed around the single page she could only wish it was Duncan himself she was screwing into a tight piece of rubbish that she could toss, burn or crush underfoot like a cockroach. How bitterly she rued the day she’d met that man; how impossible it was to imagine she’d ever loved someone she now despised with every fibre of her being. Merely to think of his connection to Neve made her feel murderous, and if he seriously believed he was ever going anywhere near his daughter again, then he’d better start applying for a frontal lobotomy because he had to be out of his mind.
* * *
‘Oh my God!’ Neve squealed excitedly that evening. ‘He’s come back to us already, and he’s sent a picture.’
Patsy came running in from the bathroom, still zipping up her jeans. ‘Let me see,’ she demanded. ‘What’s he like these days? Hair weave? Dentures? Nasal piercings?’
Neve’s jaw dropped as she opened the JPEG, while Patsy came to a standstill and blinked at the screen.
Neve looked up at her.
Patsy looked down at Neve and together they started to grin.
‘He is seriously good-looking, isn’t he?’ Neve commented. ‘I mean for someone his age.’
Patsy shot her a withering glance. ‘I’ll remind you of that when you’re thirty-six,’ she retorted. ‘You’re right though, he’s wearing disgustingly well.’
Neve turned back to study her mother’s first boyfriend again, and felt her heart trip with excitement. ‘He looks a bit like Beckham, don’t you think?’ she said eagerly. ‘I mean his hair’s longer, but it’s fair, and he’s got really kind eyes. Do you reckon he’s as tall?’
‘Probably, unless he’s shrunk since he was eighteen.’ Shaking her head in admiration for how well he’d kept himself together, Patsy said, ‘Well, I don’t think we’ve got any problem about taking this to the next stage, have we?’
‘Which is?’
Patsy thought about it. ‘Have you read his message yet?’
‘Oh no, I forgot about that.’
‘And who says looks don’t count?’ Patsy laughed as Neve quickly clicked back to the email and enlarged it to full screen.
Dear Susannah,
To say I was delighted to hear back from you so soon is something of an understatement, and please don’t feel the need to
apologise for asking so many questions. I don’t blame you for being cautious, particularly now I know how badly Duncan Cates let you down. It pains me a great deal to think of all you’ve had to suffer because of him, and I can only feel glad that he is out of your life now. At least as far as he can be, given that he’s Neve’s father.
I’d love to hear more about your daughter. If she looks at all like you then I know already she’s very beautiful. It saddens me to say that I have no children of my own. When I married, just over seven years ago, it was to a woman who was quite a bit older than me and who already had two daughters and a son. As one of them was nearly a teenager by then, and the others weren’t far behind, I didn’t have the joy of being present at their births, or of watching them grow. Please don’t get me wrong, they brought a great deal of happiness to my life anyway, enriching it in ways I won’t have to explain to you as a parent, but I still carry the hope that one day I’ll have a son or daughter of my own.
You might wonder why my marriage broke up, and to some extent I’m still asking myself the same question. I guess Helen and I just stopped loving one another. Not in a bitter or angry way, it was simply a fact we both became aware of about a year ago, and after talking it through we decided we should part. That’s making it sound a lot easier than it actually was, because the trauma of the break-up was hard for us all, particularly the children. In the end, after talking it over with Helen, I decided to leave Manchester and start a new life back in London, in the hope that they might also be able to begin again if I was no longer around.
I’m living in Clapham now, close to the common, and my practice is in Bayswater, where I took over the clients of a colleague who was wanting to retire. You asked for news of my parents: sadly my father’s suffering with Alzheimer’s these days so he’s had to be moved into permanent care, and my mother passed on just over ten years ago. My brother Grant is in Yorkshire with his wife and three children.
I hope this thumbnail is informative enough for the time being. Obviously I’ll be happy to go into more detail if you’d like me to. I’m going to dare to suggest that might happen over coffee, or even dinner should you feel up to braving it. If nothing else, we can talk about the old days, and have a few laughs about who we were and the kind of things we got up to then.
