by Sue Margolis
“That’s all right,” Rebecca said. “I think it was very brave of you to come and talk to me. And your mum sounds like a really sensible woman. I’d like to meet her.”
“Yeah, she’s great. You need a psychobabble-to-English dictionary when you have a conversation with her, but basically she’s OK.”
Just then the buzzer went again. It was Max.
He stood in the doorway, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain streaking down his face. He looked more fanciable than ever, she thought.
“You’re wet,” she declared, a smile hovering at the corners of her lips. She let him into the hall.
“Couldn’t start the car. Dead battery. Had to get a jump start.” He paused. Then: “Rebecca, I am so sorry I lied. It was unfair to you and it was unfair to Amy, but she gets so bloody jealous whenever I have a girlfriend. Then, whoever I’m seeing gets jealous of her and the whole thing falls apart …”
“I know,” Rebecca said. “Amy’s just explained.”
He looked taken aback. “What? Amy’s here?”
“In the living room. She’s just been telling me how she sabotages your life.”
Max gave a half laugh. “That’s her mother talking. So has Amy actually accepted how difficult she can be?”
“Totally.”
“I can’t believe it. Her mother and I have spent months trying to get through to her. She’s not a bad kid. You’ll love her when you get to know her. She’s great with animals. She’s got this white rat called Plague.”
“Nice,” Rebecca said. “You should have trusted me, Max. I wouldn’t have run away.”
“I know that now, but I was so scared of frightening you off. It was bad enough convincing you I wasn’t seeing Lorna. I thought this would have been one strain too much. So, do you forgive me?”
“Not sure,” she said, arms folded. “You’ve made a puddle on the floorboards.”
She wiped the rain off his forehead with her sleeve. “’Course I forgive you.”
She hung up his wet coat and they went into the living room. The moment they walked in, Amy jumped off the sofa.
“Dad, please don’t be angry. I didn’t mean to interfere, honest.”
He put his arms round her. “I’m not angry. This is my fault. I should have been straight from the start.”
Rebecca suggested she cook them all breakfast while Max went to the bathroom to dry off. Amy followed Rebecca into the kitchen.
“You know,” Rebecca said as she stood frying bacon and eggs, “I had my dad to myself for years after my mum died. He’s getting married soon and even at my age I was really jealous for a bit. So I know how you feel.”
“Thing is,” Amy volunteered, “I try not to be jealous, but I just can’t help it.”
“Tell me about it,” Rebecca said with a half laugh. “But now that I’ve gotten to know my dad’s girlfriend, we’ve become really close.”
“Really?” Amy didn’t look entirely convinced.
“I don’t want to take your place with your dad, you know,” Rebecca said gently. “You’ll always be his little girl… .Listen, how do you fancy some hot chocolate and whipped cream? I think I might even have chocolate sprinkles somewhere.”
The moment she got the words out, Rebecca’s face fell. Christ, how patronizing was it possible to get? The girl was fifteen. She was probably into crowd surfing and skinning up and here she was offering her bloody hot chocolate—with sprinkles.
“Great,” Amy said. “I love hot chocolate.” She even said she’d whip the cream. “You know,” Amy went on, “I really do love your flat. Dad’s is so sad with all that pine and crap. It’d be great if he moved in with you.”
“You think so?” Rebecca said, feeling there might yet be hope for her relationship with Amy.
“Yeah, then I could bring all my friends back here. God, we could have a great party.”
“What?” Rebecca almost dropped the spatula.
“Don’t worry, Dad doesn’t allow any booze.”
“Well, we’ll have to see.”
“About the moving in or the party?”
“Both,” Rebecca said.
Amy was distracted by Harrison, who came wandering in, snout twitching at the bacon smell. “Omigod,” she squealed, bending down to stroke him, “doggy surfer shorts. Those are just so cool.”
After breakfast, Amy took Harrison into the living room and the pair of them sat curled up on the sofa while Amy gossiped to her friends on her mobile. Max and Rebecca began clearing plates and loading the dishwasher. He asked her what she thought of Amy.
“Well, I admit she’s a bit of a handful. But I like her. With a bit of time, I can really see us getting along. Mind you, she’s nothing like me when I was that age. I was a timid little thing in braces.”
“Funny, I had you down as a right moody cow.”
Rebecca went for him with a wet dishcloth, but he dodged her.
“So, how did you come to have a child so young?”
“Jo—that’s Amy’s mum—and I met on holiday when I was twenty-one. We fell in love, got married and had Amy a year later. A year after that the marriage was over. We realized we’d been way too young. The split was never acrimonious, though. In fact, when Jo got married again a couple of years ago she invited me and my mum and dad.
“So, Amy doesn’t make any difference?” he said. “To us, I mean?”
She had to admit that now that Max came as a package deal, she’d been wondering when they would have time for each other. With her new job, which was bound to involve long hours and trips away, all they’d have was weekends. How would she cope with a morose teenager hanging around? She suddenly realized how her relationship with Max now mirrored Lipstick’s relationship with Stan—except of course Rebecca wasn’t a pain-in-the-arse fifteen-year-old. On the other hand, she could see Amy’s point of view, too. The poor kid was feeling precisely the same emotions she’d felt when Stan announced he was marrying Lipstick.
She came over and put her arms round him. “Does this answer your question?” she said. Then she kissed him.
“I love you,” he said.
“Oh, by the way,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you that might cheer you up. It’s in my coat pocket.”
He went into the hall and came back with a slightly damp copy of the Standard.
“It’s yesterday’s,” he said, handing it to her. “I meant to show you last night. Page five.”
She turned the pages and started reading.
“‘Lorna Findlay sacked after Cabinet Caper.’ Lorna Findlay has been dramatically dropped from the Channel 6 flagship news program Tonight after reportedly being found in a compromising sexual situation with a married man, rumored to be a senior government minister. According to a statement from Channel 6, she will now cohost an afternoon homes and lifestyle program with the Sunday Tribune journalist Guy Debonnaire.”
Rebecca slapped the page and burst out laughing. “Bend down and kiss my toe cleavage, Findlay,” she crowed. “That’s put paid to your trips to Chequers.”
“Poor woman. You have to feel a bit sorry for her. Apparently she’s also been suffering from these disgusting warts.” He lowered his voice. “Apparently they’re up her bum.”
“Oooh. God, how awful,” she said.
“Yeah. Everybody’s talking about it. I assumed you knew.”
“No,” she said, looking the picture of innocence. “Haven’t heard a thing.”
Just then the door buzzer went.
“God, who is it now?” Rebecca sighed.
It was Rose.
“I was on my way to see Jack,” she said, kissing Rebecca. “You know—my friend with the colostomy bag who lives round the corner—the one we all call Semi Colon. Anyway, I couldn’t pass by without popping in to say well done on the new job. I’m so proud of you. Plus you never told me how it went with Alex, the hospital administrator. You seeing him again?”
She’d barely finished her sentence when Max came into
the hall.
“Ah,” Rose said, clearly taken aback. “So, you two … ?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Who’s Alex?” Max said.
“Oh, he bought me in an auction. Or at least his mother did. For seven and a half pounds.”
Max looked confused.
“I’ll explain later,” Rebecca said.
They all headed to the kitchen, then Rose decided she needed the loo. Rebecca had just finished filling the coffeepot when Amy walked in to say she’d decided to go and meet some friends.
“Where?” Max said.
“Well, we said Camden Market. I thought I might buy those jeans. Thing is I’ve only got a fiver on me.”
Max turned to Rebecca.
“Not enough allowance left at the end of the month,” he explained. Then to Amy: “Look, I am not a bottomless pit. You’ll have to save up.”
“Oh, Max.” Rebecca gave him a pleading look.
He hesitated for a few seconds and then took his wallet from his pocket. “Oh, all right, then,” he said, handing her three tenners. “Off you go.”
“Thanks, Dad. Love you.”
She mouthed a thank-you to Rebecca. Just then, Rose reappeared.
“Gran, I’d like you to meet Amy. Amy is Max’s daughter.”
Rose’s eyes couldn’t have gotten any wider.
“A daughter?” she whispered to Rebecca. “He has a daughter?”
“Hi,” Amy said, holding out her hand to Rose.
“Hello, Amy. I’m Rose, Rebecca’s grandma. My, what a beautiful girl you are. I can see you’re going to break a few hearts. Now then, why don’t you come and sit down?” She patted the seat next to her. Amy shot her dad an uneasy glance and then sat.
“So, tell me, sweetie, how old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“Ah, wonderful age. What I wouldn’t give to be fifteen again. And, do you have a boyfriend yet?”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. Max said he’d pour out the coffee.
“No, not yet,” Amy said.
“Gran,” Rebecca hissed.
“Listen, Amy, I have a friend with a grandson about your age—maybe a year or two older. Lovely boy. Tall, very good-looking. He’s into that singer. Oh, you know … what do they call him, Enema, is it?”
They were saved, quite literally, by the bell. This time it was the telephone. Rebecca picked up. Her face fell almost instantly. “What? … What’s happened? No, don’t worry, we’ll be there as soon as we can.”
Rebecca could hardly breathe, let alone speak.
“OK, OK, take it easy,” Max said, putting his arm round her and helping her to a chair.
“No, I don’t want to sit down. We have to go. That was Lipstick phoning from the salon. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, she was in such a state, but Dad seems to have collapsed. She’s called an ambulance.”
Rose’s hand flew to her chest. The color drained from her face. “My God,” she whispered.
“OK,” Max said, taking charge, “where do you want to go, the salon or the hospital?”
“I’m not sure where they’ll take him. Let’s go to the salon.”
Max turned to Amy. “You going to be all right?”
“Yeah, after Camden I’ll go back to Mum’s. We’ll go out to eat another night.”
He nodded.
She got up and gave Rebecca a quick, rather awkward hug. “I hope your dad’s OK,” she said.
“Thanks,” Rebecca said, managing a weak smile.
Max drove like a lunatic to the salon. Nobody spoke for the entire journey.
The door was opened by a woman whose entire body was swathed in white bandages. She looked like she’d escaped from some ancient B movie about mummies. Nobody bothered to ask why.
“My dad, is he OK?”
“He’s fine,” the woman said. “He’s in one of the beauty treatment rooms at the far end.”
Rose and Rebecca charged to the back of the salon. Max had said that since he wasn’t family, he would wait in reception with Mrs. Tutankhamen.
Stan was lying on the couch, looking pale, but otherwise OK. Lipstick was standing on one side of him. A young woman paramedic was standing on the other side, taking his blood pressure.
“Dad? You OK? What happened? We’ve been frantic.”
“My God,” Rose said. “Look at him. My friend Cissie had a better color when she’d been dead for two days.”
Lipstick moved out of the way, so that the two women could kiss him.
“It’s nothing. Really,” Stan said, taking his mother’s hand. “I choked, that’s all. And I stopped breathing for a few seconds.”
“A few seconds?” Lipstick piped up. “It was over a minute. I thought I’d lost him. Then one of my clients heard me screaming and came rushing in.”
“What, the Mummy’s Curse woman?” Rebecca said.
“Her name’s Maggie and she’s wearing a seaweed wrap. Anyway, thank God she knew how to do that Heimlich maneuver thing and was able to clear his windpipe.”
Rose turned to the paramedic. “Is he going to be all right?” she said. Her voice trembled and she was gripping Stan’s hand so tight, his fingertips were bright red.
“I’m sure there’s no permanent damage,” she said. “But I think he should come along to the hospital anyway, just to let the doctors take a look at him.”
“I should think so, too,” Rose said. “And if you ask me, he should have a CAT scan. Oh, and if he needs an anesthetic at any stage, don’t give him a local. My son can afford imported.”
The paramedic wrapped her stethoscope round her neck and smiled. “I’m sure a CAT scan won’t be necessary. They’ll just want to check that his heart is all right.”
“Mum, I’m OK. Really,” Stan butted in.
Rose shrugged as if to say, “Well, I’ve said my piece. If you drop dead, don’t come crying to me.”
The paramedic said she would wait outside to give Stan a couple of minutes with his family, but then they really should get to the hospital.
“So what were you doing to choke?” Rose said, sweeping back his hair to cover his bald patch.
“Sucking on a Fisherman’s Friend,” Stan said.
“You’re lucky he didn’t hit you,” Rose chuckled.
“So did you just choke by accident,” Rebecca said, “or did something specific cause it?”
Stan and Lipstick exchanged a look.
“Will you tell them?” Stan said. “Or shall I?”
“You,” Lipstick said.
“OK, I’d just popped into the salon to let Bernadette know I was back from Manchester. Straight away she drags me in here to tell me her news. First she tells me about the shop extension. Then she drops the real bombshell. I’m so shocked, I choke on the sweet.”
“What bombshell?” Rebecca and Rose said in unison.
“I’m pregnant,” Lipstick declared, her face beaming.
“Can you believe it? I’m going to become a father again. At my age.”
Rose was speechless.
“But,” she spluttered eventually, “I thought you had a tracheotomy.”
“You mean a vasectomy, Mum. I had it reversed.”
“What? They can do that?”
The hugging and the kissing seemed to go on for ages.
“I should have guessed,” Rebecca said to Lipstick. “That’s why you were off your food. You had morning sickness.”
“Yeah and I have to say, it’s not getting any better.”
She took Rebecca to one side. “So, you and Max, you’re OK again, then?”
“Yes, we’re OK,” Rebecca said. “He’s outside. The only thing is, I just found out he’s divorced with a fifteen-year-old daughter.”
“What? You are kidding.”
“No. I’ll tell you about it later.” She paused. “Thanks, Lipstick. For Paris, for getting me back with Max, marrying Dad—everything.”
Lipstick laughed. “My pleasure,” she said. “Now, why don’t you bring
Max in and introduce him to Stan?”
Rebecca walked Stan to the ambulance. Lipstick said she’d catch up to him. As she was leaving early for the day and the girls in the salon would be on their own for the rest of the day, she wanted to make sure they remembered how to set the salon burglar alarm.
“I like Max,” Stan said. “He’s clever, good-looking. Your mother would have adored him.”
“You reckon?”
“I know.” Then he put his arm round her and gave her a squeeze.
“I think she would have approved of Lip—”
She stopped herself. As far as she knew, Stan had no idea about Lipstick’s nickname from school.
He smiled. “It’s OK, I know about Bernadette being called Lipstick. And she’s told me all about how horrible she was to you at school. I can’t tell you how sorry she is. I’ve met her mum and dad. They’re lovely people. They’d have to be to approve of her marrying an old fart like me. But they spoiled her, gave her no discipline when she was growing up. She was a pretty mixed-up kid.”
“I know. We talked.”
“And you don’t hold it against her?”
“Not anymore. I really like Lipstick. I have a strong feeling the two of you are going to be really happy.”
“You know something?” he said. “I do too.”
Max and Rebecca dropped Rose at Semi Colon’s.
“You know,” Max said later, as they lay beside each other on Rebecca’s pink sofa, “that could be us one of these days.”
“What, with colostomy bags?”
“No, you dope. Pregnant. After we get married, of course.”
“Oh, of course.” She was giggling quietly to herself.
He turned toward her. “You do want to get married, don’t you?”
“I can think of nothing I’d like more,” she said, snuggling up to him and kissing him on the cheek.
“Good. That’s settled, then. And babies? You want them, too, don’t you? I mean ideally I’d like three.”
