by Hilary Boyd
Her brain told her that carrying on behind her back would never be Richard’s modus vivendi, but her heart refused to be certain as she unwillingly reran an image of his hands all over that woman’s breasts. She’d been so wound up in Daniel’s disappearance and her mother’s death that she’d had no time to feel the full extent of her jealousy. But it’s cruelly insidious, jealousy, and it must have sensed she now had space in her life to really suffer.
When he did come in, she lay still, eyes tight shut.
‘Annie … are you awake?’ He spoke in a dramatic whisper that even people three streets away would have been able to hear.
She gave up all pretence. ‘It’s after one.’ She hated the injured-wife pitch of her voice.
‘Sorry … sorry, darling, I did warn you it might be a late one.’ He flopped into bed. ‘It’s done! The deal’s done.’
‘Great … so who were you with?’
‘Oh, Kate, Larry, Mike … all the gang from the other team.’
‘Marie?’
There was silence. ‘Of course not Marie.’ His voice was hurt and suddenly sober. She felt his arm come round her, smelt the blast of brandied breath. ‘You don’t trust me, do you?’
She didn’t answer. She realised that, in fact, she probably trusted him more than she trusted herself.
‘Annie, please. I don’t blame you, of course. But I told you, it was just one night … a dreadful mistake I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I’d never, ever do it again.’ He pulled at her shoulder, trying to turn her to face him. ‘Look at me, Annie, please look at me.’
She turned reluctantly, feeling on the verge of tears.
‘But, Richard … what if, in the future, something else happens, something difficult that neither of us can cope with, will we both do the same thing again?’
There was a leaden pause.
‘Both?’
Oh, God. She felt a dull thud in her stomach and for a split second she was on the verge of confessing. But how could she ever explain what had happened between her and Charles? She didn’t understand it herself. It was so caught up with Daniel, with their past, with some fantasy about what they might have had together. Did she want to burden her husband’s brain with similar images to the ones currently tormenting her own?
‘I mean me being mad and obsessed with Daniel.’
His body relaxed and he laughed softly. ‘God, for a moment there, I thought you were going to tell me you’d had it off with Charles Carnegie.’ She heard him groan. ‘Boy, was I jealous of him. Jealous of Daniel too, but that wasn’t as bad as thinking of you falling in love with Charles again.’
She winced. ‘God forbid.’ And her words were heartfelt.
*
The Indian restaurant on the Holloway Road was almost empty when Annie and Richard walked in. Soft jazz played in the dim, red-walled room, rich with the aroma of fragrant Indian spices and sizzling meat.
‘Mmm …’ Richard sniffed appreciatively as he took his seat. ‘I’m famished.’
They ordered a bottle of red wine as they waited for Ed. It had been he who’d requested the meal.
‘He won’t bring Emma, will he?’
Marsha had told her what happened at the flat two days before, but Ed hadn’t talked to her himself, only texted to say he wanted to meet. And Emma had made no attempt to be in touch.
‘I somehow doubt it.’
Annie saw Ed’s familiar figure as he pushed open the restaurant door. He looked pale and strained as he sat down, his smile perfunctory. But she was so happy to see him.
Richard poured his son some wine and piled manfully into the silence. ‘How’s work?’
‘Fine. You know … yeah, not so bad at the moment. The end of the summer’s quiet because everyone’s still away. September’ll be mayhem.’
For a while they talked about roadworks in Islington, the refurbishment of Richard’s office, and a new TV series about celebrities in the jungle which Ed said was brilliant. Annie waited patiently for her son to tell them what he’d really come to say.
It was only after they’d ordered the food and the waiter had laid a plate of poppadoms and a selection of chutneys on the table that Ed drew a white envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket.
‘For you, Mum.’ He handed it to her.
‘From Emma.’ She opened the card. It had a pretty, neutral pen-and-wash illustration of three poppies on the front. Inside, Emma had written:
Dear Annie, Richard and Lucy,
I am writing to apologise to you all. I have explained to the others what went on between me and Daniel at the party, so I’m sure you don’t need to hear it again. There is no excuse for the lie I told, or for expecting you to believe me.
I know that everyone has been hugely upset by what I did, and that your relationship with Daniel and with Ed has been badly affected. I can only apologise again.
Please, if you want to talk to me, yell at me, whatever, I am happy to meet up. Your family has been amazing to me over the years – supporting me through so many difficult times – and you don’t deserve this sort of behaviour from me. I know that I have forfeited your respect now, and I’m not asking you to forgive me.
Love, Emma
Annie closed the card and passed it to Richard. Ed was looking at her expectantly.
‘It’s a heartfelt apology,’ Annie said.
Ed sighed. ‘She’s her own worst enemy.’
Annie looked at him closely. ‘What does this mean for you two?’
‘Oh, it’s over, Mum. I … well, I suppose part of me never believed in it as a long-term thing … a girl like Emma sticking with me.’
Annie was about to object, but he held up his hand. ‘And oddly, I think I could have got past her coming on to Daniel when she was drunk and half-asleep.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Not easily – I’m not pretending the thought didn’t make me feel sick at the time. But it was the lie that really scared me. And that she could keep it up so convincingly and for so long, even when she could see the consequences.’
Richard laid the card down on the table. ‘She’s not a bad person.’
‘She’s not, but she’s potentially a very dangerous one … as we’ve all found out to our cost,’ said Annie.
‘What will Marsha do?’ Richard asked. ‘Can they still be friends and flatmates?’
For a moment they all sat in silence, considering the implications.
‘I hope they can get back on track, now that Emms has finally confessed,’ Ed said.
‘I suppose it’s not as if Marsha doesn’t know her, and, to a certain extent, know what she’s capable of,’ Annie commented. ‘And you? Can you be friends?’
Ed gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m doing my best to get past what she did. I mean, I’ve known her all my life, practically. So maybe … in time.’ He paused. ‘But I’m not in love with her any more.’
Annie tried not to let the relief show on her face.
‘I think she should write to Daniel too,’ Richard said.
‘She has, but she needs his address, if you could give it to me.’
When Richard got up to go to the loo, Ed turned to Annie. ‘Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive her, Mum?’
Annie didn’t answer for a moment. ‘I probably already have, but an incident like this changes the way you think about someone. I know she’s got what they call “issues”, and I’ve always had sympathy for her because of her background. But it’ll be hard to trust her after this.’
She reached across the table and put her hand on top of his for a moment. ‘It’s great to see you, darling. I’m so sorry about all this. I handled everything so badly.’
Ed stared at her, then dropped his eyes, but she could see the emotion in them.
‘I’m sorry too, Mum. I’ve been vile to you. I just got so jealous of him, I didn’t know what to do with myself.’
‘It’s understandable.’
He shrugged. ‘Is it? I’m not proud of myself.’
As
Annie and Richard walked off to look for a taxi, after dinner, she took her husband’s arm.
‘I’m so relieved she wrote,’ she said.
‘Me too. It was a proper apology.’
‘And at least Ed’s over her,’ Annie added. ‘I was worried he’d soldier on, making the best of it and being thoroughly miserable.’
Richard laughed. ‘God, it’s not easy being a parent, is it? Watching them make mistakes you can’t do anything about.’
‘No … you just want them all to be perfectly happy, every minute of every day, forever and ever,’ Annie heard the wistfulness in her voice, but she felt at least the family had achieved a resolution of sorts. There was still a note of fragility in the reunion between her and Richard, between her and Ed, between her and her elder son. But it was, nonetheless, a reunion.
Ed lay alone in bed that night, and felt like shit. Part of him was relieved it was done, relieved that Emma had finally stepped up to the plate and apologised to his mother. Part of him was still shocked by her manipulation of him and everyone else. Most of him just missed her like hell. He’d seen the relief on his mother’s face when he told her he wasn’t in love with Emma any more, but that wasn’t quite the truth. The thought that she was gone, that he’d never make love to her again, never watch her beautiful face as she slept, never feel that swell of pride in just being with her …
He got up and went through to the sitting room to retrieve his mobile from the table. He punched in Marsha’s number.
‘It’s me.’ He kept his voice low.
‘I know,’ Marsha replied. She sounded half asleep.
‘Listen … just seen Mum and Dad. Gave them Emms’s apology card.’
‘How did Mum take it?’
‘She was good. Yeah … sort of calmer than I thought she’d be.’ He paused. ‘That’s not really why I rang, Mash. I … I wanted to say how sorry I am … for doubting you.’
He heard a tired sigh.
‘It’s OK. I know why you did. But thanks anyway.’
‘I should have trusted you.’
‘It doesn’t matter now, Ed. You did what you thought was right at the time. None of us were sure of anything.’
‘I miss her.’
‘I think she misses you too.’
He felt a sharp pain in his gut as the fact that she was gone hit him again. ‘Is she there now?’
‘No, she’s staying at her mum’s for a bit. We thought we both needed a break.’
‘I suppose we all make mistakes,’ he said. ‘The whole family’s been overheated by this Daniel thing. Perhaps she was just acting out for the rest of us.’
‘Don’t go all psychobabble on me, Eddie,’ he heard his sister laugh. ‘But maybe you’re right. It’s not such a daft idea.’
Annie rang Daniel the next morning. He took her call at once.
‘How was your trip south?’
‘Good … it was good,’ she told him.
‘We’ve had a fantastic review in Time Out for the play. It’s only short, but the guy clearly loved it. Gillen’s over the moon.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘I’m over the moon.’
‘You both deserve it. Send me the link and I’ll have a read.’ She was almost reluctant to bring up the subject of Emma, it seemed like old news. But he would want to be told.
‘Scary,’ he said when she’d finished. ‘But she’s young, Annie. I hope you’ll forgive her.’
‘Not that young.’ She was aware of the edge in her voice and took a deep breath. ‘But yes … yes, of course I’ll forgive her. I already have, I suppose. I’m just not sure I want to spend too much time with her. She makes me nervous.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Makes you nervous!’
‘Anyway, I wanted to let you know.’
‘Sure … it’s a massive relief that none of you will have any doubts about me on that score any more. Please give my best to the others …’
As she put the phone down, she felt a tide of relief flood through her body.
EPILOGUE
‘Hurry up, Annie!’ Richard called up the stairs. ‘We’re going to be late.’ She took a final look at herself in the long mirror: the fitted, knee-length black dress, heavy amber necklace, black satin pumps, and decided she didn’t look too bad. She patted her hair, sprayed a short burst of perfume at her neck and wrists and grabbed her evening bag from the bed. It was December and her birthday, but Richard had begged her to come with him to an important client dinner. ‘We can do the birthday at the weekend,’ he’d told her.
Annie didn’t mind. She had always dreaded the social pressure from the big, lavish birthday parties of her childhood. The only thing she remembered loving was the raspberry jellies in waxed paper cases.
‘What are they like … these clients?’ she asked Richard, as the taxi made its way south across London.
‘Oh, you know. Ken Turnbull’s an old-school entrepreneur. He lives to build up companies and sell them on. Rich as Croesus, of course. David, his partner, is younger and a bit on the shady side – shirt’s too shiny, tan looks fake.’
‘Should be a barrel of laughs,’ she commented.
‘Ken drinks too much,’ Richard added, ‘and never stops talking about himself. You just have to hang on his every word.’
‘At least we’re going to the Rib Room,’ she said. ‘Good choice.’
‘Not mine.’
She left her coat with the girl at the reception desk, and was ushered by the maître d’ ahead of Richard to their table. She had thought, when Richard had said the Rib Room, that it would remind her too much of her mother. She hadn’t been here since her mother’s birthday. But she found herself silently greeting the restaurant like a long-lost friend; it was good to be back.
Then she saw them.
‘Mum!’ Marsha leapt up from the long table and hugged her mother, laughing with pleasure. ‘Happy Birthday!’
Lucy, recently back from Africa and tanned and thin from her months at the orphanage, followed suit. Then Ed, wrapping his mother in a long, insistent embrace. And it was then that she noticed Marjory Best, resplendent in emerald green, Jamie grinning broadly in his sharp Tommy Hilfiger suit, and sitting between her two friends, Daniel.
She closed her eyes momentarily, to push back the tears. In the months since the summer, she had seen Daniel whenever he was down from Edinburgh. He’d been round to the house too – sometimes with Gillen – and the rest of the family were gradually beginning to relax with him. She knew that her three would never be as close to him as they were to each other. And she’d also accepted that she felt differently about Daniel to the way she felt about the others. No less strongly, but in a different way. She knew that when she’d first met Daniel again she’d unconsciously tried to make up for the lost years, and it seemed to the rest of the family that she loved him more than she loved them. But none of that mattered now; she was lucky, it had worked out for them all.
It had been much easier with the family since Emma and Ed had broken up. Marsha was still in touch with Emma, but their meetings were awkward, Marsha said. Emma had stayed at her mother’s house and Marsha now had a new flatmate. Annie knew it would take time to rebuild their friendship.
‘I … I can’t believe this!’ She turned to her husband, who was grinning from ear to ear, his cheeks pink with excitement. ‘Ken Turnbull? David with the shiny shirt and the dodgy tan?’
Richard shrugged happily. ‘I did know a Ken Turnbull once. He was a drunk too.’
She moved to kiss the others, then was told firmly by Marsha to sit down. In front of her place was a pile of presents and cards. She felt completely overwhelmed. Nothing had prepared her for the experiences she had gone through in the last year, but she realised in that moment that she was happier than she had ever been. She had survived, and so had her family, warts and all … her family that now, however tentatively, included Daniel as a welcome guest.
‘Here’s to my mother,’ she said, raising her glass of champagne and realising, finally, that w
ith all she had, she no longer cared to be angry with Eleanor Westbury.
After the second course there was a pause. Annie was a little drunk by now, but it was as much from an overload of pleasure as from the champagne. Richard whispered to Marsha, Lucy winked, Ed waved to the maître d’. And suddenly the lights of the restaurant dimmed a little, and Annie saw Jodie and Carol, dressed in their best, walking slowly towards the table, carrying between them a large cake glowing fiercely with scores of candles. The cake was in the shape of a huge rose. Pink and melting, the sugar petals glistened temptingly in the candle-flames.
Faintly, as if from another room, Annie was aware of voices singing an enthusiastic ‘Happy Birthday’. But she was far away, her eyes resting in turn on the people round the table, all there specifically in her honour: her three dear children; the woman who had shown her what mothering was really about; her best friend; her loving husband; the two capable women she worked with … and Daniel, the beautiful son she had thought she would never see again.
She realised as she watched them that they had all, in their separate ways, taught her something vital. It was that she, Annie Delancey, despite her mother’s lifelong efforts, wasn’t perfect. She could never be; it was pointless to try. But they loved her anyway, as she loved them. She pressed the knife through the soft crunch of the pink sugar petals, her eyes closed tight as a child, and wished she would always remember that.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Tangled Lives would not be the book it is without the generous help and support of the following people: Jane Wood, Robyn Karney, Katie Gordon and the whole team at Quercus, Laura Morris, Don Boyd, Clare Boyd, Kate Boyd, Jane Bow, Barbara Roddam, Shelley Borkum, Judie Sandeman-Allen, Paul Hallam, Jonathan David, Carmen Wheatley and Suzie Ladbrooke. Thank you all very much.
