by Annie Lyons
Saskia nods enthusiastically and bounces up and down in her chair like an excited puppy. Eve shakes her head and looks wearily at Philippa, who shrugs her shoulders.
‘And so, let’s turn now to our newest and probably most challenging title.’ Joel looks sideways at Jacqui and gives a little chuckle. ‘Emma can you give us an update?’
Emma almost jumps at the sound of her name. She looks at Joel and is suddenly struck by the pointlessness of all this. Why does she spend her life battling with this man? She feels strangely calm. ‘It’s finished,’ she says quietly.
‘Well, that’s lovely,’ says Joel with a mocking grin. ‘I’m glad we’ve got all the words in the right order. The question is, how do we pitch it to the market? I mean what’s the genre? Where does it fit?’
Emma takes a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll have no problem marketing it. I mean we all agree it’s a brilliant book, don’t we?’ Everyone in the room nods enthusiastically. ‘So, as long as you’ve read it and you understand it, Joel, which I expect someone who loves Don Quixote will have no trouble doing, there shouldn’t be a problem, should there?’ Joel looks at Emma, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. Is she flattering him?
‘Although if you’re struggling, I’m sure Philippa can give you a few pointers. She’s completely on message with the book,’ says Emma, parroting Joel’s marketing speak.
Emma can see a shadow of panic in Joel’s face. ‘I don’t think that will be necessary. I’m sure I can manage. Thank you for the update, Emma,’ he says, keen to end the conversation.
‘You’re more than welcome, Joel,’ says Emma with a saintly smile.
Philippa gives her a thumbs-up under the table and Joel leaves Emma alone for the rest of the meeting.
‘Daaaaa-deeeeeeeee,’ cries Lily from the top of the stairs, hurtling down to greet her father. Alfie runs straight into his leg and clings on, looking up at him with a grinning moon-face, and Will stands casually at the living room door, half-watching Ben 10™. ‘Hi, Dad,’ he says without emotion.
‘Wow, what a welcoming committee,’ says Steve. ‘I should go away more often.’
‘Are you staying here tonight?’ asks Alfie.
‘I am.’
‘Yessss!’ chorus the kids.
Rachel comes in from the kitchen, tea towel in hand, feeling a little shy, like a stranger at a party.
‘Hi there,’ she says smiling.
‘Hi,’ says Steve still with a child attached to each leg. ‘I would say hello properly, but I am a little bit tied down at the moment.’
‘So I see. Cup of tea?’
‘Please.’
Rachel returns to the safe territory of the kitchen and listens to the excited squeaks and giggles coming from the living room. Eventually, Steve extracts himself and makes it to the kitchen. He reaches for the mug on the table.
‘Lovely. Thanks, Rach,’ he says.
‘You’re welcome and thanks for coming over tonight. It will be good to see Mum. We haven’t really caught up properly since the funeral.’ Rachel pauses and then reverts to safer, practical matters. ‘So, there’s a lasagne in the oven and there’s garlic bread if you want to do that. Help yourself to whatever you want and –’
‘Rach?’
Rachel is piling plates, knives and forks on the table, but looks up to see Steve staring at her, his face a picture of worry.
‘What?’
‘Is this how it’s going to be from now on?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You handing the kids over for visits and me being a stranger in my own home?’
‘No, of course not. I just don’t really know what else to say. I’m sort of waiting for you to give the word, seeing as –’
‘Seeing as I’m the one who left?’
Rachel shrugs. ‘Well yes.’
Steve sighs. He looks weary and worn down somehow. ‘I miss the children,’ he says after a pause.
And me, Rachel wants to cry, do you miss me? She is standing by the sink, a tea towel in her hand. She realises that she’s squeezing the life out of it.
‘And there’s something else I need to tell you,’ he adds, picking up a piece of cucumber from the chopping board and taking a bite.
You forgive me. You want me back, You’re ready to trust me again, prays Rachel. ‘Kate Winslet heard you’d moved out and asked you out on a date?’ she jokes, trying to keep the conversation light.
‘Well obviously but sadly I was out with Julia Roberts that night,’ he retorts, a glimpse of the old Steve returning. ‘But seriously, I’ve been offered another job.’
‘Wow, that’s great! It is great isn’t it?’
‘It is actually. I was headhunted and it’s the same sort of job with more money and some international travel.’
‘That’s fantastic! Congratulations.’
‘I haven’t said yes yet. I wanted to speak to you first.’
Rachel feels a surge of hope at these words. At least she still figures in his plans. ‘I think if it’s what you want to do then you should go for it,’ she says trying to sound reasonable.
Lily runs into the kitchen and leaps into her father’s arms. ‘Ah my little Pica-lily, I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ says Lily, resting her head on his shoulder and eyeing her mother with suspicion. ‘I thought YOU were going to Granny’s,’ she says accusingly.
‘Right, fine, I’m going,’ says Rachel, realising she’s not off the hook yet. ‘Daddy’s in charge,’ she adds as she heads for the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow and congratulations on the job again,’ she says to Steve.
He nods. ‘Give my love to Emma and your mum.’
Emma peers through the living room window, looking for signs of life. She contemplates phoning Rachel, who is predictably running late, but tells herself that she can deal with this. Suddenly, she has a nightmarish thought that her mother has killed herself, or had an accident and she contemplates phoning Martin. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she tells herself and takes out her mobile, scrolling to find her parents’ home number. She can hear the phone ringing inside the house and then it’s picked up.
‘Hello?’
‘Mother?’
‘Yes, is that you Rachel?’
‘No, it’s me, Emma and I’m outside the house. What are you doing?’
‘Having a bath, dear. I must have dozed off. What do you want?’
Feeling slightly squeamish about talking to her mother in her ‘nature intended’ form, Emma is keen to finish the conversation. ‘Just let me in, will you, Mum? It’s freezing out here.’ She can hear noises from within the house, sees lights being turned on and eventually the robed form of her mother coming down the stairs. She opens the door, looking quite irritated and Emma wonders if she is going to block her entry. She moves aside for her youngest daughter and Emma suddenly recalls something she read in a bereavement leaflet about forgetfulness.
‘Oh, you forgot we were coming,’ says Emma, making her way to the kitchen and plonking a bottle of wine on the table.
‘I did not forget,’ says Diana, pulling her dressing-gown up around her neck like a defence mechanism. ‘I told you, I fell asleep. I’m allowed to be tired at my age, you know.’ Emma looks at her mother, reaches forward and gives her a gentle hug. Diana bears it for as long as she can before pulling away. ‘What was that for?’ she asks.
‘I’m allowed to hug my Mum, aren’t I?’ says Emma with a smile. There’s a knock at the door. ‘That will be Rachel. I better get this open. I know what she’s like if she doesn’t have a drink in her hand fourteen seconds after she’s walked through the door.’
Diana leaves the kitchen and returns with a shivering Rachel.
‘All right, tart-face?’ says Rachel in greeting.
‘Yes thanks, slag-bag,’ says Emma in reply.
Diana pulls a disapproving face. ‘I haven’t got any food in. So we’ll have to have one of those takeaway things,’ says Diana. Rachel and E
mma look at each other and giggle.
‘OK, Ma, do you have any menus?’ says Rachel. Diana looks blank. ‘You know, they drop through the door? Pizza, curry, that sort of thing?’ she continues.
‘Rachel, do I look like the sort of person who encourages hawkers and purveyors of junk mail?’
‘All right, Mum, calm yourself. I’ve got all the numbers in my phone. Do we fancy a curry then?’
‘Ooh yeah, curry would be good. Is that OK for you, Mum?’
‘Of course, order me a prawn jalfreezi, tarka dhal and a keema nan please.’ Rachel and Emma look at her in surprise. Diana shrugs her shoulders. ‘You young people don’t have the monopoly on these things, you know. Daddy and I used to have a curry once a month, but he was the one who ordered for me. He knew what I liked.’ Diana’s voice drifts off and she looks lost. Rachel and Emma exchange worried glances and then Rachel leaps in.
‘Christ, Em, haven’t you got that bloody bottle open yet. Mum, we’ll sort it all. You go and get dressed.’
Diana suddenly clicks back into gear. ‘All right, but don’t blaspheme, Rachel,’ she says disappearing upstairs.
By the time Diana reappears, the girls have laid the table and found some candles to light. Rachel puts on an old Stevie Wonder CD and pours the wine. Her mother walks in and Rachel is struck by how grief has aged her. Her eyes still sparkle and dart around the room ready to find and fix their attention on anything which displeases her, but her demeanour has a weary, resigned look to it. When she sees the candles and hears the music, she can find no fault.
‘This is lovely. Your father would have loved this,’ she says, and Rachel wonders if she is going to cry. She picks up a wine glass and hands it to her mother and clinks it with her own.
‘To Dad,’ she says. Diana smiles but doesn’t speak.
‘Here we are,’ says Emma returning with three bags of sweet-smelling curry. She plonks them on the table.
‘Not there!’ cries Diana. ‘I don’t want turmeric stains on my best table linen, thank you!’
‘Sorreeee!’ says Emma like a petulant teenager and Rachel laughs. She takes the bags from her sister. ‘I’ll dish up in the kitchen.’
‘Have you warmed the plates?’ demands Diana.
‘Of course,’ says Rachel still smiling.
As with all good takeaway curries they have ordered far too much so that by the time they have eaten their fill, the table is littered with half-eaten naans and several quarter-full containers.
Diana sits back and dabs at her mouth with a napkin. ‘That was delicious.’
‘Mmm, very good,’ says Rachel, stabbing her fork into the leftover mushroom bhaji. ‘I should take some of this home for Steve.’
‘No wonder he left you,’ says Emma with a grin.
‘You cow. That is out of order!’ cries Rachel.
‘That is a little unkind, Emma,’ says Diana. ‘And may I ask, Rachel, if this arrangement with Steve is a permanent one?’
Rachel mouths ‘Thanks a bunch’ at her grinning sister. ‘We’re working things out,’ says Rachel trying to sound as ambiguous as possible.
‘That’s a little vague if I may say so,’ says Diana. ‘What about Scotland and more importantly, what about the children?’
‘Oh, we’re definitely keeping them,’ says Rachel with a lame attempt at levity.
‘Rachel, I don’t think this is the time for humour. Your life is falling apart around your ears. You need to take action.’
‘Yeah thanks for that, Mum, but we’re sorting it. Actually Steve’s got a new job so Scotland is officially off the agenda.’
‘Well, that is a blessing,’ declares Diana.
‘You need to get a job,’ says Emma.
‘And you need to get a life,’ says Rachel.
Emma sticks out her tongue. ‘My life is fine thank you.’
‘Spinster!’ coughs Rachel with a grin.
‘Shut up Rachel.’
‘Girls please!’ cries Diana looking heavenwards. ‘What would your father say?’
Rachel and Emma look ashamed. ‘Anyway,’ says Emma after a pause. ‘I really think you should get a job, Rachel. It would do you the world of good.’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something rather vital?’ says Rachel as if addressing a very slow child. ‘The three small people I work for? I can’t exactly hand in my notice.’
‘Mum could look after them.’
‘What?’ chorus Rachel and Diana with equal measures of horror.
‘Well, you could at least think about it. I mean Mum needs something to do and she is brilliant with the kids and you really need to go back to work. You’re starting to become such a whinger.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ says Rachel staring at her sister. She notices that Emma and her mother are nodding at each other. ‘I am not a whinger.’
‘Well, you don’t always seem to be enjoying it, Rachel dear, and it would be good for you to have a break. Goodness only knows if I’d had your choices in my day, I might have gone back to work.’
Rachel looks at them both. ‘Well, thanks for that, family.’
‘Just think about it, sis, and now, who’s for pudding? I brought brownies!’ says Emma.
Later in the evening, Diana gets out some old photo albums and they look at the pictures together, laughing at the fashions of the seventies. Rachel stops at a picture of Diana at her wedding with her mother and father.
‘Were you close to Grampy?’ asks Rachel.
‘Not really. I think he and Mother felt they should have children out of a sense of post-war duty. I was something of a disappointment.’
Rachel wonders if it’s the wine making her mother this unguarded, but is pleased that she is opening up to them. ‘For the record, Mum, I think Granny was out of order at the funeral and you were right to say what you did.’
Diana smiles weakly. ‘Well, it’s given Mother a lot of material to complain about, so I suppose some good came out of it.’
They turn the page to find photos of Diana and Edward when they were first married.
‘You look like film stars,’ says Emma, keen to carry on talking about the past and share memories of Edward. Diana looks lost in her grief and suddenly gets up from the table.
‘I’ll make us some tea,’ she says sweeping out of the room. Emma goes to follow her.
‘Leave her, Em,’ says Rachel.
Emma comes back to the table and picks up her wine glass. ‘I wasn’t being mean, Rach. I just get the feeling that you could do with a bit of a break from the kids sometimes. I mean Lily and Alfie will soon be at school.’
Rachel nods. ‘I know. It’s just that everything’s a bit up in the air at the moment’
‘Tell me about it,’ says Emma.
Diana returns with the tea. ‘Here we are. No, Rachel, don’t pour yet. Didn’t I teach you to let it steep properly?’ scolds Diana. Rachel smiles and sees Emma smiling too. Eventually, Diana carefully turns the pot and pours out three cups. Stevie Wonder’s ‘I Believe’ reaches a crescendo and they sit, nursing their tea, letting its joyous tones wash over them, each lost in a memory of Edward Darcy and wishing he were there to put everything right again.
Chapter 28
Emma loves airports. Despite the endless queues and mile-long walks to the departure gate, she always feels a bubble of excitement when she enters one. There’s an air of expectancy and the phrase ‘all human life is here’ always echoes in her mind as she passes through. Really she would have liked to start this adventure on her own, but Rachel was determined to ensure her little sister safe passage to Heathrow. Will was devastated as he was unable to attend due to school commitments. He tried to persuade his mother that the trip would be educational but she was having none of it. Alfie opted to stay at home with his granny as he ‘doesn’t be liking the noisy planes’, so it is just Emma, Rachel and Lily who now struggle with Emma’s laden trolley, trying to avoid people’s ankles on their way to the check-in.
‘All girls togeth
er!’ chimes Rachel.
Lily looks at her mother with distaste. ‘I’ve only come because I want to see Auntie Emma off. I still think it’s your fault that Daddy left!’ says Lily with a determined pout on her face.
‘Very well,’ says Rachel, who has developed a rhino-thick skin over the last few months in an attempt to deflect Lily’s persistent jibes. ‘Well, you won’t want to go for a milkshake afterwards so I can tell you my big surprise!’ Lily looks at her as if to say, I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with. I won’t be won over with measly milkshakes. ‘Also, I saw that Hello Kitty rucksack in a shop over there and I thought we could go and spend some of your birthday money on it,’ adds Rachel with a grin.
Even Lily has a limit. ‘OK,’ she says with pursed lips.
‘Nice one, Rach. I thought the ice queen would never melt,’ says Emma. ‘Right, I need check-in numbers 42-45. Why don’t you go and grab us some coffees and I’ll take Lily for a spin on the trolley. OK, Lils?’ Lily nods her head and climbs aboard. Grateful for a break from her tormentor, Rachel heads for the nearest coffee shop.
‘So, Auntie Emma, why do they call New York, The Big Apple?’
‘I don’t know, Lils, but when I get there I’ll find out and send you a postcard, OK?’
‘Cool!’ says Lily, bouncing up and down on the trolley. ‘How long are you going for?’
‘Well, six months to start with, but maybe longer.’
‘I’m going to miss you.’
Emma kisses the top of Lily’s head. ‘I’m going to miss you too, sweet pea.’
‘Can I come and visit you?’
‘Of course you can.’
‘Auntie Emma?’
‘Yes, Sweetness?’
‘Do you miss Grandpa?’
‘More than I can tell you, Lils.’
‘I miss him. And I miss my dad.’
‘Ah, but you can still see your dad.’
‘I know. I hate my mum.’
Emma takes her niece’s face in her hands. ‘Lily, you mustn’t blame your mum. None of this is her fault.’
