‘I won’t stop trying Lucy,’ she warns me. ‘And you can shut me out all you want but Charlotte wants me in her life and I intend to be there for her.’
I don’t get it.
I truly don’t get it.
Somehow, she’s turned me into the bad guy.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Gloria
I tell Paul what happened between Noel and Lucy.
Not straight away.
For days I keep it in, but it’s there churning and black inside of me.
I had no intention of telling Paul, I never discuss things like that, I just keep it all in. I hardly know him after all. Though I did go for coffee with him after slimming club last week and, when it was time for my daughters to go back to Australia, he offered to take us to the airport, as he’s got a seven seater, and he arranged a baby seat.
Noel’s moved out and Eleanor’s moved home and I’m left holding the baby.
We drive back from the airport after Alice, Hugh and Bonny leave and the house is quiet and it’s over now. Only, it will never be over – I learnt that a long time ago but at least it’s over for now.
After I settle Daisy down for the night, he offers to make me a cup of tea, but I tell him I’d prefer a glass of wine.
‘Do you really want that glass of wine, Gloria?’
It’s an in-joke between us; something Beryl from the slimming club says that we should ask ourselves.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I really want that glass of wine.’
‘So do I.’
He pours us both a glass and it’s nice to sit down on the sofa with him and know it’s just us.
Nice to sit and, for a little while, not have to get up.
‘How’s Eleanor?’
‘Supposedly sorting herself out.’
I’m cross with Eleanor. I’m trying to separate what I saw with Noel and Lucy. I’m trying to go to a cupboard marked only Eleanor and not busy it with everything else – and I am cross with Eleanor. I know you can’t help depression and everything, but I also believe, if Noel had been Daisy’s father then everything would be fine now. It would all have been brushed under the carpet. More than that, I think had Eleanor’s lover been white, he wouldn’t even have left. It’s that they can’t escape the fact that they’ve had problems in their marriage, that they can’t just pretend it away, is what is finishing them.
Eleanor’s looking after Daniel and Laura, which I should be grateful for I guess, but I think they’re spending an awful lot of time at Noel’s and his parents.
Poor Daisy is left with me.
We don’t just talk about Eleanor though.
Paul doesn't ask any questions at first, instead that's me. I want to know why his marriage ended. I can see he's uncomfortable but I really need to know, because I do think I could like him. I mean, now he’s not huge he’s a good-looking man, he really is. I know that sounds fattist but I'm sure he probably thinks the same about me. I’ve sort of watched him emerge from within himself as he’s lost weight- his work told him to apparently but now he's glad that they did.
Anyway, we really don't know that much about each other and, before we do, this bit I need to know, because I can’t be with another man who cheats.
I can’t.
‘She had an affair,’ Paul says and I swallow my wine and I feel relief first and then sympathy follows, because I know what that's like. ‘With another woman.’
Oh!
‘It’s disgusting,’ he says.
My face burns.
I actually feel a bit sick for a moment but I can’t tell him why.
Embarrassment floods every pore.
I don’t know what to say and so I breathe for a moment until I do. ‘Alice’s best friend is gay,’ I tell him. ‘She didn't want to be - she did everything she could to make her marriage work but Roz always knew she was gay.’
‘Then why did she marry him in the first place?’ Paul asks and tonight’s the only time I've ever heard him bitter.
‘Things were different then,’ I answer and Beryl’s not going to be pleased, because, yes I do want that second glass. It’s so nice to relax and to just sit talking, to have someone listen. ‘The same as me, she got pregnant and felt that she had to get married.’
It’s so nice not to have a full house.
I check on Daisy and she’s sound asleep.
When I get back downstairs we talk some more. I tell him a bit about me, about my marriage and my divorce and about the woman who took him from me. I tell him about Lucy, and her posh house and how gorgeous she is. It's my turn to be bitter, because I may be working towards forgiving him, but I've got my work cut out forgiving her. I tell him what I saw after the funeral, I tell him what she did, I tell him what I know I can never share with my daughter.
‘That’s her stepdaughter’s husband…’ Spite tightens my lips and I can hear my own hate. ‘What sort of woman is she?’ I ask. I’m on a roll now. ‘Aside from that, her husband had only been dead a week. What sort of woman would do that?’ I want him to agree with me, to tell me she’s the worst sort of woman but instead he goes really quiet for a while and then he takes my hand. He tells me that maybe I don't know what she's going through, that maybe his leaving her, was as hard for Lucy, as it was, at the time, for me.
‘Lucy?’ How can it be as hard for Lucy? It’s not as if he walked out, it’s not as if he simply turned his back on his family and left! She could have anyone – and that includes my son-in-law. She’s gorgeous; she takes care of herself, her home, her body. I’m furious with him for not supporting me. ‘Why would you defend her?’ I feel this surge of loathing, not towards Lucy; instead it’s devoted entirely to me. It comes up now and then, not so often these days, but when it does, I feel as if I’m going to choke.
‘I’m not defending her, Gloria.’ I hear his voice and he’s calm when I’m not. ‘I just…’ he goes quiet, it’s as if he wants to say something but has changed his mind. I won’t let her ruin this too, I will not let Lucy, and my hate for her, ruin another thing in my life. I take deep breaths, I pour cool water, I can’t explain it here. I just pour cool water on the hate inside and then I look down and it’s his hand I’m holding. Paul’s hand. It’s warm and it’s holding mine back and I’m not alone with my fear. For the first time, I don’t feel so alone.
We’re on the second bottle by the time he kisses me but I know it isn't the wine that has lowered our inhibitions, it's the conversation, it's the trust – it's finding another person who gets you. For the first time in my life I feel wrapped in understanding.
The wine certainly helped in the bedroom though!
You try getting your kit off for the first time with a new man, when you’re in your fifties – I defy anyone to do it sober.
I’m not telling you about that though!
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Lucy
It is, Luke agrees, a shit time to sell.
I own an £800,000 house that used to be worth 1.2.
And yes, while I know a thing or three about real estate, for a long time, I’ve been trying to ignore that fact.
Still, whatever its value, it’s paid off now thanks to mortgage insurance, but it’s rather more complicated than that.
It would seem that he’s cashed in one life insurance policy without my knowing and there was a loan he had me take out a couple of years ago, he told me it was to do with tax and I just signed for it.
Well, I’m liable for that.
And, I have to then tell Luke about another loan I took out without him knowing, because he got so annoyed all the time about how much the pony was costing.
Then there’s my secret, secret credit card that stays hidden in my bag.
It’s not exactly a fun Saturday morning.
It soon gets worse.
‘You can use the money that’s been left in trust to Charlotte to pay her school fees,’ Luke says, ‘but does she really need to go to such an expensive school?’
‘She’s
not changing schools.’ I shake my head. ‘And why should those three get a lump sum, to do what they want with, while Charlotte has to pay her own school fees?
‘Because those three,’ Luke says with more than an edge of pissed offedness at my churlishness, ‘didn’t get private school educations. Nor did they get a pony a piece.’
It’s a mess, I know that, but it’s not unsalvageable I’ve decided.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in recent days – in an effort to not think about what happened with Noel and what Gloria may or may not have seen, I’ve been trying to sort out my life and I’ve come up with a solution.
‘I’m going to take out a mortgage on the house.’
‘And how are you going to pay the mortgage, Lucy?’ Luke just doesn't give me an inch. ‘With the money you borrow? You don't even work. Do you really think the bank is going to give you a mortgage just like that? You've got debt everywhere and more on the way if you keep this house.’
‘Luke!’ Jess fires another warning. We’ve been going for about an hour now and it’s just getting worse. ‘Go easy.’
‘And what will that solve?’ Luke frowns at his wife but he saves the big frown for me. ‘The trouble is Lucy, you want to carry on exactly as you did before but from what I can see, the pair of you were heading for a big fall anyway. You need to downsize.’
‘I know that!’ My voice is shrill and I struggle to keep it down but I have to because Charlotte’s upstairs in her room. ‘Do you think I don't know that? You carry on like I'm some greedy bimbo.’
‘He’s not,’ Jess attempts.
‘Yes, he is…’ I am just clawing with panic. ‘I have to keep things stable. I have to….’
‘You can’t afford to.’
To Luke it really is that simple – well what would he know? Nothing. He has no idea what I’m going through, what I’m really going through.
‘I went to see the GP about Charlotte.’ I drop my voice to a whisper. ‘She’s wetting the bed,’ I tell Luke. I just want him to understand. ‘Doctor Patel says to try and keep things as even as possible for her, for at least a year.’
‘What if you can’t?’
‘I have to.’
‘Jess,’ Luke turns to his wife. ‘Why don’t you take Charlotte to the park or…’
Jess looks at me and I nod, because I don't want to say things that Charlotte might overhear.
‘I know it’s not the same as losing her father,’ I say once we’re alone. ‘But losing Noodle really upset her and then it was her Dad…’
Luke nods.
‘I can't take her away from her friends at school. I know I might have to at some point but I just can't do it to her now. The same way I can't tell her that she's losing her home.’
‘Lucy,’ he remains unmoved. ‘There’s no shame in selling your home; you won’t be the only one. We’re in the middle of a global…
Don’t even go there, I snarl inside.
I don’t care about some global financial crisis. I don’t care if governments have fucked up - they can sort it out amongst themselves but I am not losing my home.
I tell him why.
I tell this cold, immutable man my reasons.
I’m never honest with anyone, no-one knows, well, my husband knew some it and he threw it back at me at times but, for my daughter I’ll be honest.
I’ll be honest if I have to be, because I am not losing my home.
‘I’m not leaving here, Luke,’ I tell him. ‘Charlotte’s getting her year of calm. I put up with enough of his shit over the years just to keep it.’
I see him frown.
‘I lied,’ I say to him. ‘There were never going to be any more babies. You all think I trapped him by getting pregnant; well you’re all wrong. I have never been more terrified than I was when I found out that I was having a baby. I have never felt more scared than the first time I held her. I swore things would be different for her than they were for me…’
‘Lucy…’
‘No!’ I am outside of myself. For once I don’t care what anyone thinks of me. I don’t care what he sees just so long as he sees my reason. ‘Everyone loves Valerie,’ I snarl. ‘Everyone thinks I’m too harsh on her, well that bitch was absent for the first sixteen years of my life. We lived in the slummiest flat and I was the fat kid that smelt.’ I am so, so angry. ‘Because of her I went through hell. “I don’t think Lucy Jones wipes her bottom.”’ I tell him my shame, I tell him how I found out I smelt. I tell him how lonely and scary it was. I tell him how many different homes I lived in the many, many times Mum was taken off to dry out. I tell him how petrifying it was to go to a new foster home and to lie there at night, trying to stay awake, so you don’t piss the bed. I tell him that no, I’m not allergic to ice cream, it was my only friend. I forget to be posh; I drop my accent, as I shout. I drop the pretence. I’m every inch an Essex girl as I fight for what’s mine and Charlotte is mine and I’m keeping the house!
‘I am.’ I am standing there right in his face and he just stands there looking at me.
‘It’s okay,’ he says.
Just two words.
Two words that I so needed to hear.
‘It’s going to be okay, Lucy.’
I feel my terror leave.
We sit back down at the table and finally we’re actually talking.
While I want things to carry on as before, at some level I know that it can't. I just want this to be as gentle on her as possible, which is the one common ground between us. He crunches the figures as I try to find statements and we quietly work towards that goal.
‘It’s hard to get a mortgage.’ Luke looks at the numbers in front of him. ‘They don’t just give them out these days.’
‘I know that,’ I say.
I do know that.
I know something else too - I'm going to have to get a job.
I hear a noise and I stand and look out of the window - Jess's car is pulling up. I watch Charlotte climb out and she so doesn't deserve this. I look at her little face and she’s so pale and all that exuberance just seems to have left her.
She’s not losing her home; I won’t let her lose it.
I just need that year.
I’ll get another husband.
A richer one.
A younger one.
Anger fizzes inside me again and I spit it out with a single word. ‘Bastard.’
‘Because he didn't have enough life-insurance?’
Ah yes, I forget at times - Luke was his friend not mine. I'm the bitch, the gold-digger. I must remember his opinion of me.
‘Yes.’ I don’t even turn around as I speak. ‘I’m pissed off because he didn’t leave me enough money.’ I watch my daughter and I say it again. ‘Bastard.’
An hour of just us and Luke’s rapidly losing patience with me. ‘What are you so angry with him for Lucy? He didn't choose to die.’
I’m still watching my daughter through the window. She’s such a good girl, she’s laughing at something Jess has said but it’s a little too late and I can tell she’s pretending. My heart just squeezes. So much so, that again, for a moment, I forget to lie.
I forget for a moment who I am supposed to be.
The woman I invented.
The one with the perfect life.
I forget, so much so, that I answer him. ‘That smile on his face when he went out.’ I head for the door to greet Charlotte and I toss the words out over my shoulder but I don’t need to turn and see his reaction. I don’t care about Luke’s response. I say it out loud for the first time, purely for me. ‘He didn't get it from me.’
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Gloria
‘She’s doing well.’
It annoys me that the nurse just hands Daisy back to me and starts to fill in the book. Yes, Daisy’s doing well but what about her mum?
What about me?
I think I’ve been too nice about it, I think I’ve said that I’m coping too well. I’m starting to find out that a
lot of people are going through this. A few women at work, I’ve realised, are raising their grandkids. I just didn’t know and I never thought it might happen to me - that Eleanor would, if I let her, happily sign off on her child.
As I head out to the car with Daisy, I want to turn around and go back in. I want to tell the nurse that no, things are not okay.
She’s six weeks old and her mother is having nothing to do with her.
I’m sick of softly, softly.
I’m sick of my beaming smile when Eleanor deigns to give her daughter a bottle.
And I’m furious that Noel was round there the other day.
Laura told me.
He’s been round a few times.
It’s been churning inside me since I found out.
I’m sick of slowly, slowly because I’ve a feeling that this might take, oh, around sixteen years.
I’m not joking.
They’ll slot back into their perfect lives and just ignore their problem.
‘I’m going out tonight.’
I ring her while I’m still angry.
I sit in the car park and I call her.
‘Oh?’
‘So, do you want me to bring Daisy over?’
There’s silence, a long one and then she starts to cry. ‘Mum, please.’
‘Or, you can come over to mine and look after her.’
‘I’m not ready.’
‘Well guess what,’ I shout. ‘I’m not ready either. And,’ I am, I bloody well am, ‘I am going out tonight.’
I regret shouting when I hang up.
I know that I’m making a mess of things; I know that I’m being too harsh. I drive towards home and pass a take-away. I think about stopping there and getting lunch.
‘Do you really want that piece of chicken, Gloria?’ That’s what Beryl tells us to stop and do. Yes, I really want that piece of chicken. Some lovely deep-fried chicken and they do mashed potato and gravy too. I’m sick of my diet, it’s not working, I didn’t even lose a pound last week. I don’t want to go and get weighed tonight; I know I’ll have put on.
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