Too Good to Be True

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  Freya’s smile was a little stronger this time. “I’m horribly picky,” she said. “That’s why Brian was so good to be with. I want my men to be there when I need them and to leave me alone when I don’t. I want them to be loving when I’m in the mood and to back off when I’m not. I don’t know how the poor bloke put up with me.”

  “Possibly because it suited him,” said Maude calmly. “Tell me about your mum and dad.”

  “They were difficult to have as parents,” admitted Freya. “Dad was very domineering and Mum always wanted to please him. She did everything for him, gave up her job and her friends…she didn’t seem to mind though.” She paused. “I know Dad wasn’t very pleased when me and Ben came along. He was fussy, he didn’t like kids much, and he was absolutely devoted to Mum. I don’t mean that he didn’t love us too, but in a distant kind of way. On his terms. But they were the most important part of each other’s lives. We were incidental. Then when he died she had nothing. No job, no friends, and somehow neither me nor Ben were able to keep her happy. Everyone says she died of a broken heart.” Freya twisted a lock of hair between her fingers, then looked directly at Maude. “I felt guilty when she died. I thought that if we’d only been better kids, then it wouldn’t have mattered that Dad had died; she’d still have had us.”

  “Oh, Freya.” Maude’s voice was gentle. “Don’t feel like that. Maybe she did love your dad so much that nothing and nobody else could fill the gap. But it certainly wasn’t your fault.”

  “You see, I already know that,” said Freya. “In my head I know that. But in my heart…”

  “I think she’d be very proud of you,” Maude announced. “I know I would be.”

  “You have your own daughters to be proud of,” said Freya.

  “Yes.” Maude sat back and grimaced. “I am proud of them. Even though they have me heart-scalded from time to time.”

  Freya smiled shakily. “How’s Carey?” she asked.

  Maude shrugged. “Getting on with things.”

  “I heard she bought an apartment,” said Freya.

  Maude nodded. “Which I’m glad about. It’s a new focus for her.”

  “It’s a pity it didn’t work out,” said Freya, “with Ben. I’d have liked us all to get to know each other a bit better.”

  “You know me now anyway.” Maude smiled at her. “And whether I’m family or friend, it doesn’t matter, Freya. You’re welcome to call and see me any time.”

  “You’re really nice,” said Freya warmly. “And you give such good advice.”

  This time Maude laughed. “But you’re the only one who’s ever even considered taking it!” she told her.

  They were having a second cup of coffee when the door opened and Sylvia arrived. She stood in amazement at the sight of Maude and Freya sitting side-by-side on the sofa.

  “Freya’s visiting,” said Maude simply.

  “I didn’t realize you kept in touch,” said Sylvia.

  “We met,” explained Freya, “and your mother invited me out.”

  Sylvia took in Freya’s red eyes and blotchy cheeks. “And is everything OK?” she asked.

  “Fine,” said Maude.

  “Sure?”

  “Yes,” said Freya. She smiled at Sylvia. “Nice to see you again.”

  “Well, you too,” said Sylvia uncertainly. “Mum, would you like me to go? I was just dropping off some shopping for you, but…”

  “Stay,” said Maude. “We’re having a right old chat. Freya was telling me about her childhood. Makes me realize how good I was to you all.”

  “Huh.” But Sylvia grinned and poured herself some coffee. “What’s she been telling you, Freya? That she was even-handed and generous, that she loved all her children equally?”

  “Actually, yes,” said Freya.

  “I did. I do.” Maude looked at her daughter with injured innocence.

  “Oh, really?” Sylvia smiled. “So when you gave Tony the money for his first motorbike, that wasn’t favoritism?”

  Freya looked anxiously between mother and daughter, but Maude simply grinned at Sylvia.

  “And didn’t I pay for you to go on that trip to Rome even though we were skint at the time?” she replied.

  Freya realized that the banter between the two women was well-worn and familiar. And that they weren’t going to argue or fight over things that had happened years ago. That they were, in fact, simply revisiting past times. Her brow furrowed. She rarely revisited past times with Ben. She never wanted to.

  “Did you hear that Carey’s bought an apartment and is seeing her old boyfriend?” Sylvia turned to her quite suddenly and jolted Freya out of her thoughts.

  “I — yes. He told me about the apartment. Not about the boyfriend. I didn’t know about that.”

  “Is she seeing him again?” Maude looked anxiously at Sylvia, who shrugged.

  “He took her out for lunch after she closed on the apartment,” said Sylvia, “and I just got the impression there was something going on.”

  “Oh.” Maude pursed her lips.

  “And did Ben tell you she gave him a sofa as a breaking-up present?” Sylvia returned to Freya.

  “Yes,” said Freya. “He told me.”

  “That was a bit odd, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, Sylvia, everything about them is odd.” Freya sighed. “When he told me he’d met her, he also said they’d patched things up, and at first I thought he meant they were getting back together. I nearly fainted. But I guess it just means they’ve stopped screaming at each other.”

  “That’ll be the day,” remarked Maude. “At least,” she added, “that Carey stops screaming and shouting. You know her, Sylvia, mouth runs away with her all the time.”

  “Ben’s a bit of a shouter too,” said Freya. “Gets it from our dad, I’m afraid.” She bit her bottom lip. “He wasn’t an awfully nice man really. I loved him, of course, but he was — difficult.”

  “So’s Arthur,” said Maude cheerfully.

  “I don’t think he’s difficult in the same way,” Freya said.

  “All men are difficult,” Sylvia stated. “It’s a penance women have to put up with.” She picked up the coffee-pot and refilled Freya’s cup. “Have some more and tell us all about your family. I love hearing about other people’s families. It makes me think that maybe my own isn’t completely dysfunctional after all.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  GINGER

  A warm and spicy oil which is great for a tired body

  Ben couldn’t remember when he’d ever been so angry. Not on any of the occasions when he’d fought with Leah, not when he’d had the blazing row with Carey, not ever before. But now, as he sat in the Herbal Matters van on his way to Brian Hayes’s house, he could feel the fury surging through his body so that it was all he could do not to put his foot to the floor and speed recklessly through the suburban streets.

  Freya had told him. The day after her afternoon with Maude and Sylvia (an afternoon which hadn’t ended until much later in the evening and which she’d enjoyed more than she could ever have imagined), she’d gone to lunch with Ben and explained about the early menopause — how she’d given Brian the choice and the decision he’d made. Ben hadn’t said anything, but had looked at his confident, capable older sister on whom he’d depended so much in the past and had suddenly seen another, more vulnerable side to her. And he’d wanted, there and then, to flatten Brian Hayes for making Freya cry.

  “I’m not crying because of him,” she’d sniffed. “I’m crying for me.”

  But Ben found that hard to believe. He’d liked Brian, got on with him even though he found the other man a little staid and boring, but right now he wanted to wring his neck.

  The lights changed to green and Ben turned up Orwell Road. He supposed Brian thought that it was fine to go out with Freya and sleep with her and generally treat her as though she was part of his life until the moment when there was something he wanted that she couldn’t give him. Things would have been dif
ferent if they’d married before, but now, because Freya had been so scared of getting married in the first place, Brian was able to discard her without a second thought. Ben tightened his grip on the gear lever as he shoved the van into fourth. Well, that bastard had made a mistake if he thought he could mess around with Ben Russell’s sister. A big, big mistake.

  Ben pulled into the kerb outside Brian’s house. At nine o’clock in the evening the porch-light was on, illuminating the attractive cobble-locked driveway in which two cars were neatly parked. Ben hesitated when he saw the pale green Micra alongside Brian’s shiny black BMW. It might not be a good time to confront him if he had visitors. Although it would never be a good time to confront him. And after all, his friends deserved to know what kind of shit he was. So what the hell, he said to himself as he got out and slammed the door of the van. He pressed the bell and held his finger on it so that he could hear the insistent buzz inside the house. The hall light came on and he could see Brian’s shadow behind the stained-glass panel of the front door.

  “Ben.” Brian, casually dressed in a rugby-shirt and jeans but somehow still with the aura of a banker, looked at him in surprise.

  “Brian.”

  “Can I help you?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “It’s not hugely convenient just now.”

  “It won’t take long,” said Ben, and pushed past Brian so that he was standing in the tasteful, yet somehow soulless, hallway.

  “Come into my study,” said Brian. He opened a door to the left and switched on the light. The study was small, barely accommodating the old-fashioned mahogany desk with green leather inlay, the matching leather chair, and a half-size filing cabinet. The desk was laden with papers and files.

  “Busy?” asked Ben.

  “Very,” said Brian. “We’re advising on a take-over.”

  “Good for you,” said Ben.

  Brian rested against the desk and looked at Ben. “So what do you want?” he asked.

  “You know,” said Ben.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Freya told me.”

  “Ah.”

  “You miserable shit.” Ben’s voice rose. “How could you do this to her?”

  “Do what, exactly?”

  “You dumped her!” cried Ben. “Dumped her — because of her age.”

  “I didn’t dump her,” said Brian evenly. “I told her I needed time.”

  “Oh come on!”

  “That’s exactly what I did. I didn’t dump her. Not in the way you mean.”

  “You left her on her own in a fucking restaurant, you bastard!” This time Ben shouted. “You left her on her own when she was already upset and unhappy, and you phoned her to say that you needed some time because you had issues — for fuck’s sake, Brian, ‘issues’! D’you think you’re living some kind of pop-psychology life? Now Freya is devastated.”

  “Is she?” Brian looked guiltily at Ben. “I thought maybe she wouldn’t care in the end.”

  “How could you think that?” said Ben furiously. “When you know how much she loves you? Just because she doesn’t swoon in your arms all the time. Just because she has a career of her own. Just because —”

  “OK, OK,” said Brian. “I get the message.”

  “And you just left her there.” Ben’s voice rose again. “I can’t believe you did that. I really can’t. You utter, utter pr —”

  He broke off as the door to the study opened and a stunningly beautiful girl walked in. Ben reckoned that she couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Her strawberry-blonde hair fell around a flawless, ivory-skinned face, and her green eyes glittered behind enormous dark lashes. She wore a short black skirt, emerald-green figure-hugging T-shirt, and knee-high black suede boots.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “You total fuck!” Unable to stop himself, Ben clenched his right hand into a fist, raised his arm, and caught Brian a blow to the side of the face. Almost at the same time, Brian grabbed Ben by the collar of his well-worn navy fleece and began shaking him so hard that his teeth clattered off each other. Ben heard the beautiful girl scream as he lashed out again at Brian, this time missing him completely and losing his balance in the process. Brian took the opportunity to try to land a blow of his own, grazing Ben’s temple, but not inflicting any real damage.

  “For God’s sake, stop it!” The girl’s shrill cry burst through the air. “Dad, stop! You’ll kill each other.”

  As the words penetrated Ben’s head he stopped struggling and turned towards the girl, allowing Brian to finally land a retaliatory punch, which caught him on the nose.

  “Fuck.” Ben heard the crunch of tissue and felt the blood begin to flow.

  “Shit.” Brian turned to his desk and grabbed a bundle of tissues from the box.

  “You maniacs!” The girl stared at both of them. “What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

  Ben took the proffered tissues from Brian and held them to his nose, at the same time realizing that, in their struggle, some of the files had been knocked from Brian’s desk and now lay scattered across the floor, while the ones that hadn’t fallen were covered with a decorative spray pattern of blood.

  “Will I call the police?” The girl looked at Brian, her eyes wide and her face flushed.

  “No, Linnet, it’s OK. We don’t need the police.” Brian turned to Ben. “You all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” Ben’s voice was muffled. “Though I think you broke my nose.”

  “You didn’t do my jaw much good either.” Brian massaged it gently.

  “It’s swollen,” Linnet said, her voice accusing.

  “Sorry.” Ben’s eyes darted from one to the other.

  “Ben, this is my daughter, Linnet,” said Brian, still rubbing his jaw. “Linnet, this is a friend of mine. Ben Russell.”

  “A friend!” Linnet looked at her father in astonishment. “A friend barges into your house and tries to beat you up?”

  “I had my reasons.” Ben took the tissues from his nose. It had stopped bleeding, but was now red and sore.

  “And those reasons were?” Linnet looked angrily at him.

  “I understand his reasons,” said Brian. “Lin, be a good girl and leave us alone for a bit, will you?”

  “Don’t talk to me as though I was five years old,” she snapped. “And I certainly won’t leave you alone. The two of you might start beating each other up again.”

  “I doubt it.” Brian opened and closed his mouth gingerly.

  “Don’t bet on it,” said Ben.

  “You see!” Linnet looked worried. “Maybe I should call the police.”

  “Don’t be silly,” said Brian. He turned to Ben. “Come into the living room,” he said. “I’ll deal with in here later.”

  Ben’s head was throbbing as he walked behind Brian and Linnet. He was trying to get his mind round the fact that Brian had introduced this absolutely stunning creature as his daughter. Ben had never heard Brian say anything about a daughter before and certainly nothing about someone as beautiful as this. Freya had never said anything about a daughter either.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  Ben nodded and set off a chain reaction of pain bouncing round his skull. Brian opened a rosewood cabinet and took out two crystal glasses and a bottle of Bushmills. He poured a generous measure into a glass and handed it to Ben.

  “We won’t start beating each other up again,” Brian told Linnet who was standing anxiously at the door. “I promise.”

  “You’re too old for this!” his daughter reproved him. “I really can’t believe I saw it.”

  “Don’t tell your mother, eh?”

  Suddenly Linnet smiled and Ben saw the resemblance between herself and Brian in the way her eyes crinkled. “Bloody maniac,” she said, although her tone was milder.

  “Leave us for a bit,” said Brian. “I’ll yell if he throws another punch.”

  “I don’t think I can,” said Ben. “I nearly broke my
fingers on your jaw. Must be made of cement or something.”

  “Feels like crumbling cement at the moment.” Brian rubbed it gently.

  “OK,” said Linnet after a moment. “I’ll go. But the slightest noise and I’m on the phone to the cops. And I don’t care if you spend the night in the slammer!” She walked out of the room and closed the door firmly behind her.

  Ben said nothing. Brian refilled both their glasses before sitting down in a maroon armchair. He waved Ben to the opposite one.

  “Some explanations?” Brian looked at Ben. “My daughter, as I said. From a brief but intense liaison with a rather gorgeous-looking woman twenty years ago.”

  “Clearly she didn’t get the looks from you,” Ben said rudely.

  “I know,” said Brian. “Every time I see her I can’t quite believe she’s mine. But she is.”

  “Where’s her mother?” asked Ben.

  “Marijka went back to The Netherlands ten years ago,” said Brian. “Took Linnet with her. I didn’t want her to go, but you know how it is with women. She got homesick.”

  “Does Freya know?” asked Ben.

  Brian shook his head slowly. “No.” He stared into his glass of whiskey for a moment, then looked up at Ben. “It wasn’t that I held it back deliberately. At first — well, at first when we were going out it was fun and everything, but I wasn’t particularly expecting it to last. And I didn’t see the need to tell her. Let’s face it, Ben, what woman wants to hear that the guy she’s dating has a teenage kid?”

  “But later?” asked Ben. “Why didn’t you say something later?”

  “I should have,” admitted Brian. “But it got harder and harder. Freya wasn’t into family stuff — she hardly ever talked about your parents, Ben. And she didn’t seem to care much for kids anyway. So I was afraid that the whole idea of me having a child would turn her off. It wasn’t as though Linnet was on the doorstep and was going to pop up at any moment.” He exhaled slowly. “Later, when things were getting more serious between us, I knew I’d have to tell her, but the right moment never seemed to come. And then it was too late. We were going out for a long time and I hadn’t said anything, and then it would be like confessing to a secret.”