by Jill Mansell
She was determined to punish herself. More than ever now, Sam longed to confront Andrew and make him realise the extent of the damage he had caused. A mid-life crisis was one thing, he thought irritably, but this was wrecking people’s lives.
In response to his phone call, Izzy had arrived at Sam’s flat at seven o’clock. Judging by her outfit - a new, black-sequinned dress and ludicrously high heels - she wasn’t exactly prostrate with concern for her only daughter.
‘She’s moved into a bedsitter in Stepney and got herself a job in BurgerBest,’ he said shortly. ‘She also tells me she isn’t going to medical school.’
‘So?’ countered Izzy, still boiling with resentment towards him and hating the way he was now trying to make her feel like a wayward schoolgirl. ‘What am I supposed to do about it? Kidnap her and lock her up in a cupboard?’
‘How nice to see you taking your parental responsibilities so seriously.’ Sarcasm fuelled his own annoyance. Izzy’s laissez-faire attitude might have worked in the past, but it was the last thing Katerina needed right now.
As if she realised this, Izzy’s expression changed. Sinking down on to the arm of the settee, she stopped glaring at him and heaved an enormous sigh. ‘OK, OK, of course I’m not happy about it, but there really isn’t a great deal I can do to stop her. She’s almost eighteen years old and she’s been carrying on an affair with a man old enough to be her father, for heaven’s sake. Maybe a few weeks in a bedsitter will give her time to think it through.’
‘Izzy, this particular bedsitter had to be seen to be believed. It’s a health hazard.’ Handing her a piece of paper, he said, ‘Look, here’s the address.’
‘No.’ She shook her head, refusing to take it. ‘I won’t do that. I’m not going to approve of what Kat’s done.’
‘You’re making a mistake,’ Sam said warningly. ‘She needs you.’
Izzy’s eyes glittered, her temper flaring once more. ‘And you’re her long-lost father figure, I suppose,’ she retaliated, stung by the criticism. ‘Maybe when you’ve brought up a child of your own, on your own, I might listen to your brilliant advice. But until then, I’ll do what I - as a parent - think is best. OK?’
He had injured her pride. Too late, Sam realised that if he had urged her to disown Katerina, there was every possibility Izzy would have done the opposite.
‘At least keep the address,’ he said with resignation. ‘And if you should happen to bump into her, try and make her see that she can’t give up her place at medical school.’
Izzy cast him a derisive look. Comments like that only went to prove how little he really knew Katerina. ‘She might have said it, but she didn’t mean it,’ she replied in almost pitying tones. ‘Medicine means more to her than anything. It’s all she’s ever wanted to do.’
‘Cut!’ yelled the director, and with a gurgle of relief Izzy collapsed into Tash’s arms.
‘Ever felt overdressed?’ he drawled, helping her out of the full-length, dark green velvet coat which clung to her damp body.
‘Ever thought of hiring a hit man,’ Izzy countered, ‘to take care of whichever sadist dreamt up this idea?’
The set, upon which part of the video for ‘Never, Never’ was being shot, depicted winter in Moscow. In reality, the first week of August was proving to be the hottest of the summer so far and the temperature had rocketed to 90°F in the shade. Izzy simply couldn’t understand how forty seconds’ worth of video could possibly take seven and a half hours to produce.
‘You’re looking at your watch again,’ Tash observed drily. ‘What’s the problem? Supposed to be meeting your lover?’
It was a month since Izzy had even seen Sam, yet for some peculiar reason Tash continued to suggest that the two of them were indulging in some clandestine affair. At times he only appeared to be half-joking. Frustrated by the fact that - for once - she was innocent of such a crime yet at the same time touched by this evidence of Tash’s own unexpected insecurity, she reached up and kissed the corner of his mouth.
‘I told you this morning,’ she said patiently, aware of the fact that the make-up girl and lighting cameraman were eavesdropping behind them. ‘There’s a house in Wimbledon I’m going to look at. The estate agent’s meeting me there at six.’
‘What d’you want a house for?’ Tash frowned. Over the past weeks, they had spent most of their time together. Nothing had been said . . . no formal arrangements had been made . . . but it had just so happened that a number of Izzy’s clothes had gradually taken over one of his wardrobes. The almond-scented shampoo she always used was propped up on his bathroom shelf next to her toothbrush, and several spare pairs of shoes littered his bedroom floor. ‘What’s wrong with my house?’
‘Nothing, except that it is your house.’ Izzy grinned. It was possibly the most romantic thing he’d said to her, so far. ‘I want one of my own.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’ve never had one before. Not a decent one,’ she corrected, unscrewing a bottle of lukewarm mineral water and pausing with it halfway to her mouth. ‘Besides, it’s been over a month now since Kat left. It’s time to get that little matter sorted out, and since she can hardly move back to Kingsley Grove I thought I’d get us somewhere neutral.’
Initially attracted to Izzy by her determination and natural independence, Tash reflected now that such qualities had their drawbacks. He wasn’t used to being turned down in any shape or form, yet this was what she was doing to him.
‘She might not want to live with you,’ he retaliated, holding the dark green velvet coat towards her as the director signalled that they were ready to go once more.
‘Of course she will,’ said Izzy, who didn’t doubt it for a minute. There had been an argument, during which they had both said and done things they didn’t mean, but now was the time for it to be put behind them and for Katerina to come home. ‘She isn’t the kind to hold a grudge. By this time tomorrow the whole silly business will be forgotten. And don’t look at me like that,’ she added, as the snow machines started up and a flurry of polystyrene pips hurled themselves like wasps against her face. ‘She’s my daughter, for heaven’s sake. I’ve known her for years!’
Chapter 34
Katerina felt like a zombie, not like herself at all. Everything was so hideous she no longer stopped to think about it, to consider the awfulness of this new life of hers, because if she did she knew she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
But bear it she must, because this was her new life and it was what she deserved. Every day she worked gruelling shifts in BurgerBest, enduring the leers of the customers and the eternal smell of fried onions which clung to her skin and never seemed to wash away completely. Her feet ached, her head spun with the banality of it all and the money was poor. She didn’t have the energy, when she returned home each night, to do more than bathe, listen numbly to the transistor radio which was her only luxury and fall into bed.
And all because of Andrew Lawrence; that was the strangest part. Everything happened for a reason, Katerina would remind herself, and Andrew had been hers.
He still loved her, of course, and came round to see her whenever he could, but Marcy was deliberately making things as awkward as possible for him and had made no attempt at all to find herself another flat. Katerina, who hadn’t been lying when she’d told Sam she no longer loved Andrew, was half-grateful to Marcy for staying put, relieving her as it did from the necessity of making any further mistakes - which was what she now knew moving in with Andrew would be.
It was all such a muddle, though. Some evenings she found herself looking forward to his visits simply because of the comfort it gave her to know that someone still cared. Luckily, the old dragon of a landlady didn’t permit overnight stays so she was spared the difficulty of refusing to allow him to spend the nights with her. But while sex no longer appealed, hugs and sympathy were very much needed. Particularly when she reminded herself that her future no longer lay in medicine, but in chargrilled triple-decker cow-burgers
. . .
Katerina had thirty seconds’ warning of Izzy’s imminent arrival, thanks to Mrs Talmage’s passion for curtain-twitching.
‘Blimey, there’s an ’elluva car pulled up outside,’ her landlady reported, peering through the grimy glass while Katerina counted out the week’s rent. ‘Like somefing outta Dallas . . . ’ere love, come and ’ave a look at this! Some woman wiv a bloody great dog’s gettin’ out.’
Katerina’s hard-earned money disappeared in a flash inside Mrs Talmage’s apron pocket. Katerina, glancing through the window, said, ‘That’s my mother.’
‘Never! Wiv a car like that?’
Wearily, Katerina envisaged her rent doubling. Her landlady’s pale little eyes were alert with interest, her brain undoubtedly working overtime.
‘It isn’t her car,’ she replied in abrupt tones. ‘She’s just showing off, as usual. Mrs Talmage, could you tell her I’m not here?’
The pale eyes widened, registering astonishment. ‘What, you don’t want to see your own mother? Get away wiv you, girl. She’s come to visit, and the least you can do is offer her a cup of tea. Tell her you’re not ’ere, indeed. I don’t know . . .’
‘Darling!’ cried Izzy, just as Katerina had known she would. ‘Come here and give me a great big hug!’
It was absolutely typical of her mother, thought Katerina, to erupt into the room in a swathe of scarves and perfume, wearing way too much make-up and pretending that nothing at all had happened. Added emotional blackmail had been provided, of course, in the form of Jericho, who barked delightedly and leapt up at her in a frenzy of adoration.
But happy as she was to see Jericho again, she had no intention of allowing Izzy to bulldoze her into daughterly submission. When Izzy enveloped her in an embrace she submitted politely but said nothing, concentrating instead on remembering how bitterly her mother had attacked her when she’d needed her most.
‘Well, well,’ Izzy said, kissing Katerina’s cold cheek and gazing around the bedsitting room, with its badly painted walls and dreadful furniture. ‘We’ve lived in some Godawful places in our time, sweetheart, but this has to be the pit to beat all pits. And was that your landlady who answered the door just now? I thought her piggy little eyes were going to drop out of her head when she saw me.’
‘Probably because you’re wearing false eyelashes,’ Katerina observed, easing herself out of her mother’s grasp. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘What am I, some old great aunt?’ Izzy had already spotted the ancient two-ring stove, upon which stood a battered tin kettle. More than anything else, the pitiful sight of those two objects fuelled her determination to get her precious daughter out of this terrible place. ‘Sweet-heart, you’re looking thin . . . you need a splendid meal inside you. Grab some shoes and come with me to Langan’s.’
Katerina, who hadn’t been eating much at all recently, was almost tempted. Then she shook her head.
‘No, thanks.’
‘But I’ve booked a table for eight-thirty,’ protested Izzy, her composure beginning to slip. Outwardly cheerful and calm, no one could have guessed at the turmoil she’d been going through. This evening’s rapprochement was something she’d been carefully planning for days.
‘You can still go.’ Katerina, struggling to remain calm herself, wasn’t going to fall for emotional blackmail. More brutally than she had intended, she added, ‘I’m sure you and Tash will enjoy yourselves there.’
‘Oh Kat, don’t.’ Izzy looked stricken. Fiddling with the emerald-green silk scarf around her neck, she backed away and sat down abruptly on the edge of the unmade single bed. ‘Sweetheart, we can’t carry on like this. I’ve missed you so much. We have to talk about it.’
‘We’ve already talked about it,’ replied Katerina coldly. ‘I know exactly what you think of me, and that’s your prerogative. I just don’t have to listen to you saying it if I don’t want to.’
This wasn’t going according to plan at all. Izzy, almost in tears now, wrenched off the stupid false eyelashes so painstakingly applied by the make-up girl earlier. ‘Listen,’ she pleaded in desperation, ‘I understand about Andrew. I won’t say a word against him. But Kat, you can’t carry on living in this terrible place . . . I came here to tell you I’ve rented a house in Wimbledon, just for the two of us. We can go back to how we always were before . . .’ In a hopeless attempt at humour, because it might win Katerina over, she forced herself to smile and added, ‘Only richer, of course.’
Katerina had never seen her mother beg before. For a second she wavered. But it was no good; the damage had been done and it was too late to try and pretend it hadn’t.
‘We can’t go back,’ she replied bleakly, ignoring the look of desolation in her mother’s eyes. ‘Everything’s different now. We have our own lives - and you’ve got the two things you always wanted: success and money.’
Izzy swallowed. Was that really how Kat thought of her?
‘What about medical school?’ she asked finally, to change the subject. ‘Will you be able to cope, living here and commuting to Westminster every day? You won’t be able to study and work in the evenings as well.’
Past caring by this time, Katerina went to the door and held it open in the hope that Izzy would take the hint and leave. ‘That isn’t going to be a problem,’ she said, her tone blunt, but at the same time almost casual. ‘Because I’m not going to medical school.’
‘But—’
‘And that isn’t a threat, it’s the simple truth. They wouldn’t accept me now, anyway. You see, I’ve failed my exams.’
When Andrew arrived an hour and a half later, Katerina was in bed.
‘You’ve been crying,’ he said, putting his arms around her and feeling - as Izzy had done - how thin she had become. ‘Angel, you mustn’t cry. Everything’s going to be all right. Marcy’s moving out of the flat on Monday . . . in less than four days we’ll be able to be together for the rest of our lives.’
Katerina, the brief outpouring of bitter tears behind her now, gritted her teeth and crawled back beneath the bedclothes. Today, it seemed, was her day for being offered somewhere to live by people she no longer wanted to live with.
But she wasn’t up to another argument tonight. What she most needed now after the fraught meeting with Izzy earlier was physical comfort and a bit of tender loving care. And here was Andrew, in his crumpled grey suit, sitting on the edge of her bed and wondering what on earth he could do to cheer her up.
Gazing around the cheerless little room in search of inspiration, he said anxiously, ‘How about a nice Chinese takeaway? I could pick up some chicken and pineapple with fried rice . . .?’
It must also be her day, she thought drily, for being offered food she didn’t even want to eat.
‘I don’t want Chinese.’ Slowly, almost absent-mindedly, she slid her hand beneath his jacket, running her fingers along the side seam of his shirt. At once, his breathing quickened and the expression in his eyes became hopeful. He understood that the past few weeks hadn’t been easy for her, but constantly being rebuffed whenever he made any kind of physical advance hadn’t exactly been the greatest ego boost in the world for him, either.They hadn’t made love for over six weeks and the strain of wanting Katerina as badly as he did - while in turn having to live with Marcy, who wanted him - was beginning to tell.
‘No?’ Proceeding with caution, in case he was reading too much into the tentative gesture, he held his hand up to her forehead with mock concern. ‘You don’t want a Chinese takeaway? Shall I phone for the ambulance now?’
Katerina smiled. ‘Not just yet.’
‘How about an Indian, then? Lamb Passanda? Chicken Tikka and Naan bread?’
With a pang, Katerina remembered that Lamb Passanda was one of Simon’s favourite Indian meals. Poor Simon, she hadn’t treated him very well either.
But she needed the comfort of Andrew’s presence, for now at least. And although she might be taking advantage of him, it wasn’t as if she was asking him to
do something unspeakably awful. For heaven’s sake, it would make him happy . . .
‘I don’t want an Indian takeaway,’ said Katerina, loosening his tie and wondering whether she would ever be truly happy again. ‘I want you to stay here tonight, with me. I want sex. I want you . . .’
Chapter 35
Since their last meeting hadn’t exactly been a raging success, Sam acknowledged Izzy with a cool nod and carried on talking to the Australian actor who was currently wowing audiences in a West End show, and who had turned up at The Chelsea Steps with a particularly fetching little blonde.
Not to be put off, however, Izzy simply stood at his shoulder and waited for the small talk to run out, glancing with disinterest at the underdressed blonde and ignoring the attentions of her companion.
‘Did you want to see me?’ said Sam eventually, turning and looking mildly surprised. For good measure, he scanned the crowd around them and added, ‘Not with your boyfriend tonight?’
