Days Like These

by Sue Margolis

  “You know what I want to talk about.”

  “I’m assuming it’s about Sam and Seb… .”

  “That’s the second topic on my agenda. Let’s start with my father.”

  “Your father?” It sounds daft, but with everything that’s going on, it hasn’t occurred to me that she’s here to talk about my relationship with Mike.

  “You’re sleeping with him.”

  “I wouldn’t put it quite so crudely. Other activities are involved.”

  “You seduced my father to get back at me.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake … I did nothing of the sort. And there’s no way your father told you that.”

  “He didn’t need to. It’s obvious. You offered yourself as bait and then just reeled him in.”

  “And I did this to make you jealous. To get my revenge. Seriously?” I hear myself laughing.

  “You’ll be laughing out the other side of your face when you find out the truth. The fact is he’s using you just like you’re using him. He only wants you for sex. Don’t think for a minute that he sees anything else in you.”

  “And he told you that?”

  “No. But why else would he be interested in you?”

  I want to slap her. “I think you had better leave.”

  “I’m going nowhere.” She folds her arms. Dr. Connell, therapist and bestselling author, has morphed into a petulant, jealous child.

  “Fine. So let me ask you a question. How did you find out about your father and me?”

  “It’s none of your damn business.”

  “So let me guess… . You were discussing your son and my grandson and the issue of the stolen iPad and your father accidentally gave the game away. Am I right?”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “And while we’re talking about Sam,” she says, unfolding her arms, “you need to know once and for all that he is an angry little boy, desperate for attention. I was afraid he might end up doing something like this. And now he has. Seb is not lying. Sam is. And you and I both know that none of this would have happened if you’d taken notice of his cries for help.”

  “OK—I think we’re done here… .” I’m already on my feet.

  “Stay away from my father,” Claudia says, getting up. “Stop using him as a pawn in your pathetic battle with me. I’m warning you: it’s a battle you will never win.”

  “Oh, get a grip, you stupid woman. You sound like you’ve stepped out of a Jackie Collins novel. Your father isn’t a pawn. He’s a highly intelligent man who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions.”

  “You can’t bear it, can you,” she says, “that I’ve been proved right about Sam?”

  “You need to go.” I’m aware that my hand has formed a tight fist.

  “I’m going. I’ve said what I came to say.”

  • • •

  I have three missed calls and a couple of texts on my phone. They’re all from Mike. The first text reads: Claudia knows about us. On warpath. Call me.

  I call. “You’re too late. She just paid me a visit. It wasn’t pleasant.”

  He asks me if I’m OK.

  “I wasn’t. But Mum sat me down and made me a cup of sweet tea. I’m better now.”

  “Christ, I’ve made such a mess of everything. I called round to discuss this whole Sam and Seb situation and I let the cat out of the bag. She didn’t take it well.”

  “You think?”

  He invites me over to his place for dinner. “Let’s discuss everything over a bottle of wine and a pizza.”

  Mum says I should ignore Claudia. “She thought she had her father to herself, and now her nose has been put out of joint. She’s probably like this with all her father’s girlfriends. She’ll come round.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Well, if she doesn’t, it’s her loss.”

  “What makes you think that Mike would choose me over her? She’s his daughter.”

  “She’s also crazy.”

  “Makes no difference. When it comes to it, she’s his blood. I’m not.”

  I don’t leave until the children are asleep. Mum was anxious for me to get them down because Estelle is coming over. She’s bringing strudel (“Of course it’s not a patch on mine”). The plan is to sit, drink coffee, force down Estelle’s second-rate strudel and go window-shopping for possible suitors for my mother.

  But come bedtime, both kids played up. Sam said he was too upset to sleep. Rosie—who has come out in sympathy for her brother—said the same. Earlier, when Sam told her why he had been sent home early from the Dorset trip, she set sibling rivalry aside and sprang to his defense. “Sometimes I don’t like you because you hit me or you make fun of me, but I know you would never steal. Only bad people steal, and you’re not a bad person. You should beat Seb up for being a big fat liar.”

  Sam couldn’t bring himself to look his sister in the eye.

  “I should tell her the truth,” he whispered when I finally got him to bed.

  “OK, but not now. I’m not sure you could handle Rosie being angry with you as well. Leave it until all this other stuff has blown over.”

  When I arrive at Mike’s, he hands me a glass of wine and tells me again that he’s sorry. “I should have told her weeks ago. You were right. I was burying my head in the sand. I fucked up.”

  “I agree that it wasn’t ideal, but to be honest, I’m not sure she would have reacted differently however you handled it. We always said it wasn’t going to be easy.”

  “So you’re not angry?”

  “Not with you. But you should know that Claudia accused me of using you as a pawn in my battle with her. She also said that you only wanted me for sex and warned me to keep away from you.”

  “She really said that?” His lips are tight with fury. “Right, where’s my phone? I’m not having this.”

  I grab his arm and beg him not to confront her until he’s calmed down. “You’ll end up yelling, and it won’t achieve anything.”

  “But how dare she march into your house and say those things to you? It’s outrageous.”

  “It is. But I coped. No real harm was done. You should have a night’s sleep and call her tomorrow. Better still, go and see her.”

  Mike starts pacing. “She’s only behaving like this because you stood up to her. She feels threatened by anybody she can’t dominate, and it’s about bloody time she got over it.”

  We eat our pizza without much enthusiasm. Neither of us is very hungry. We manage a couple of slices each and then we’re done. Afterward we sit on the sofa finishing the wine.

  “So, how’s Sam doing?”

  “Not great.” Because I’m tired and a bit drunk, what I say next leaves my mouth uncensored by my brain. “He simply can’t understand why Seb lied. He thought they were friends.”

  “So you’re calling Seb a liar?”

  “I don’t think he makes a habit of lying. But I think he’s lying now and we need to find out why.”

  Mike puts his wineglass down on the coffee table and moves down the sofa. In a second, the intimacy between us is gone. The atmosphere has become confrontational.

  He says he thinks we need to get one thing straight. “I am the first to admit that my daughter has her issues. But she’s a good mother. And Laurence is a great dad.”

  “I’m not accusing her or Laurence. Good parents have children who lie.”

  “I agree. So Abby and Tom could have a child who is lying.”

  “Sam isn’t lying.”

  “Neither is Seb. Claudia has spoken to him… .”

  “I don’t doubt it. And of course she’s going to defend him. She’s defending her reputation. Who’s going to take advice from a child expert whose kid lies and accuses an innocent boy of theft?”

  “This isn’t about Claudia’s reputation. It’s about Seb. I’ve spoken to him, too. We had a brief chat on the phone, and I can tell you that he’s distraught about telling on Sam—so much s
o that he’s been throwing up. But he felt it was the honest thing to do. This isn’t a child who’s lying.”

  “Let me speak to him. Let me see what I can find out.”

  “No. I’m not having you interrogating him.”

  “I don’t want to interrogate him. I just want to ask him a few questions.”

  “Fine,” Mike says. “Then you have to let me ask Sam a few questions.”

  “Why are you being like this? Sam is the victim here, not Seb. All I’m doing is defending my grandson.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re being obstinate and pigheaded. Despite everything, Claudia happens to be a damn good shrink, and to be frank, she makes a perfectly good case for Sam having problems. He stole his sister’s necklace. The boy has demonstrated he is capable of theft. I think you’re in denial.”

  This echoes what Ginny was saying. But it feels a hundred times worse coming from Mike. I feel betrayed. “Where has this come from? Whenever we’ve discussed Sam’s bad behavior, you’ve always agreed with me that it’s been about him being stressed from too many after-school activities. And the thing with the fireworks wasn’t his fault.”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not saying Sam’s a bad kid. He isn’t. But his parents have been away for God knows how long and he’s probably pissed off. And who could blame him? To be honest I don’t think Sam is the only one with the problem. You have a problem, too, because you refuse to see what’s going on.”

  “Your daughter really does have you wrapped around her little finger, doesn’t she?”

  “That’s not true and you know it. But I will support her if I think she’s right. And she happens to be right about this.”

  “Bollocks she is.”

  I’m on my feet, gathering up my bag and coat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home. Claudia wanted me to stay away from you, and after this outburst, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

  “Don’t be so ridiculous. Can’t we have a simple disagreement? This is about kids.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s about your relationship with your spoiled, arrogant daughter.”

  “How can you say that when five minutes ago I wanted to read her the riot act for the way she treated you?”

  “Yes, but when the chips are down, when it really matters, you will always choose her over me.”

  “I haven’t chosen her, you daft woman. I’ve agreed with her. Are you saying I’m not allowed to agree with my own daughter, who happens to have a doctorate in child psychology?”

  “What you’ve done is side with a jealous crazy woman, who by your own admission feels threatened by me. You can call it agreeing. I call it choosing. Now I’m leaving.”

  • • •

  When I get home, it’s gone ten. The lights are out, which means Mum is in bed. I’m grateful. I can’t face having to tell her why my eyes are puffy and my face is streaked in mascara.

  As I reach the landing, I hear voices coming from Rosie’s room.

  “It’s OK, Sam. I get why you did it. You wanted the star for luck because you were feeling scared, just like I was scared of the Hitlers. But if you’d asked, I would have let you borrow it.”

  “Grandma and Nana wouldn’t have. They’d have been scared about me losing it. So you’re not angry with me?”

  “A teensy bit maybe.”

  “I can give you compensation.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s when a person hurts another person and they pay them money to say sorry.”

  “I don’t want money.”

  “What, then?”

  “I want four Kinder Eggs.”

  “Three.”

  “No. Three wouldn’t feel like a proper sorry. I want four.”

  “And then you won’t be angry anymore?”

  “Correct.”

  “OK. It’s a deal. Right, I’m going back to bed. Grandma will be cross if she finds us up this late.”

  Grandma, who just about managed to stop blubbing by the time she got home, has started all over again.

  CHAPTER

  nineteen

  Mike calls first thing. “Look, this is ridiculous. We both said things we didn’t mean… .”

  “So you’ve changed your mind. You think Claudia’s wrong about Sam. You don’t think I’m part of the problem… .”

  “It’s not as simple as that.”

  “Yes, it is. If you haven’t changed your mind, there’s no point in us talking.”

  “Of course there is. It’s daft, us falling out over our grandchildren.”

  “Mike, I told you last night. This isn’t a simple falling-out over grandchildren. It goes deeper than that and you know it.”

  “But I don’t want to lose you. I love you. The other evening I promised your mother I would never hurt you, and now I have and I don’t know how to put it right.”

  I want to feel sorry for him, but I’m still too angry and upset. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. I’ve got too much on my plate just now. I need to get to the bottom of this thing… .”

  “I can’t help thinking you’re obsessing. Hasn’t the time come to accept that Sam stole the iPad?”

  And I lose it. “No, it bloody hasn’t! Sam did not steal the iPad. Now, go away and leave me to help my grandson.” With that, I cut him off.

  Mum can’t believe how she misjudged Mike. She says all the irritation has made her IBS worse. She decides to clean the oven.

  While Mum gets busy with Mr. Muscle, I arrange to meet Ginny and Tanya in the coffee shop around the corner from school.

  When I arrive they’re already there, drinking lattes and talking about Edith.

  “Well, I think you’re being very brave,” Tanya’s saying to Ginny.

  I pull out a chair. “So you’ve decided to move in?”

  “Yep, and Emma’s coming, too. She said she’ll do anything to get the boys into a decent school—even if it means living with an old woman she’s never met and is supposed to hate, in that horrible old house. She’s already made an appointment to see the head.”

  “You really don’t hang about in your family.”

  “What’s the point? It all makes logical sense.”

  Tanya raises her coffee cup. “Well, here’s to it all working out. Good luck to all of you.”

  “We’re going to need it. I can’t help thinking we’ve bitten off a great deal more than we can chew. But as Emma says, it won’t be forever.”

  “You’ll be fine,” I say, patting Ginny’s hand.

  “Just keep telling me,” she says.

  I get myself a cappuccino and treat us all to chocolate brioche. “I don’t want to comfort-eat alone.”

  “And why are we comfort-eating?” Ginny says.

  I bring them up to speed.

  “He’s an idiot,” Tanya says. “Siding with bloody Claudia over you.”

  Ginny puts down her cup. “At the risk of making myself unpopular, I think Mike may have a point.”

  “What point?” Tanya shoots back. “Claudia is an evil bitch. He has no point. I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

  “I told Judy and I’m telling you … don’t let your hatred of Claudia cloud your judgment about all this.” Ginny looks at me. “Judy, you are my friend. You’ve taken care of me while my mother’s been in hospital, and I don’t know what I would have done without you. I would do anything for you. But can you really be sure that Sam didn’t steal this boy’s iPad? Surely it’s a case of Occam’s razor: the obvious answer is usually the right one.”

  “What can I say? I know my grandson.”

  “We think we know people. But the uncomfortable truth is that sometimes we don’t. You have to at least consider the possibility that Sam did this.”

  I explain how I overheard Sam confessing to Rosie about stealing her Star of David. “If that’s not an honest kid, I don’t know what is.”

  “I agree that it would seem that way. But even so, you can’t
be a hundred percent certain he didn’t do it. If there’s any doubt at all in your mind …”

  “There isn’t.”

  Tanya lets out a long breath. “Judy, you know I’m totally on your side …”

  “Oh God … I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming.”

  “Not exactly. All I’m saying is that maybe Ginny’s got a point. Perhaps you should press Sam a bit harder.”

  I feel browbeaten and weary, like the whole world has turned against me.

  I get home to find a voice mail message from Mrs. S.J. It’s a courtesy call to let me know that on Monday—during lunch break—she intends to question Sam and Seb about the theft. She thinks it would be appropriate if Claudia and I attended the meeting. Mrs. Gilbert will not be there, since she has already spoken to the boys and formed an opinion.

  Sam says there’s no way Mrs. S.J. is going to believe him. “Mrs. Gilbert didn’t, so why should she? I hate Mrs. Gilbert and I hate the school. I want to leave.”

  Rosie says that if Sam wants to go to another school, that’s fine, but she wants to stay because Cybil is her best friend and she doesn’t want to leave her. I tell them that nobody is going anywhere, and we have to wait and see what happens on Monday.

  Sam spends the weekend lolling in front of the TV or in his room playing chess. After his confession to Rosie, I felt I should return his chess set. Mum keeps telling him he needs to go out and get some fresh air. She suggests a walk on the Heath. But he’s not interested, and I decide not to push it.

  On Sunday night, while he’s getting ready for bed, he breaks down and throws a pair of trainers at the bedroom door. “I hate Seb. I hate him. When I see him tomorrow, I’m going to punch him.” He sits on the bed head down, arms folded, dragging his foot back and forth across the carpet.

  “You will do no such thing. I know this is hard, but there is to be no lashing out. You will keep calm and answer Mrs. S.J.’s questions truthfully. Do you understand?”

  He doesn’t say anything. Instead he kicks a book across the floor.

  “I said, do you understand?”

  “S’pose.”

  I sit next to him and put an arm around him. “It feels dreadful when people don’t believe you. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world. And tomorrow won’t be easy. It’s probably the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, but I will be with you. Never forget that I love you. We all love you.”