The Calico Cat

by Amanda James

  James nods and wonders what his mother will say to that.

  ‘Hmm, I see. Well, it’s hard not to buy pink or blue though, these days. The shops are full of both.’ His mum stabs a roast potato with more force than is necessary and James can see the conversation taking another nose dive before very long.

  ‘Yes, but we must try to find some. If you want to buy something for the baby and can’t find neutral colours, please don’t bother. I’d hate to see them go to waste,’ Beth says in a polite but firm manner.

  His mum opens her mouth to reply and then just shakes her head in disbelief.

  James looks at his dad for help and is grateful that he takes the initiative. ‘So, what about names? Have you thought of any yet?’

  ‘One or two,’ James says. ‘Nothing definite yet.’

  ‘We had thought of some traditional Nigerian names, hadn’t we, love?’ Beth says to James but is looking at her mother-in-law.

  James feels his heart sink. They had discussed that possibility in passing but they hadn’t liked any so far. Beth is obviously hell-bent on winding up his mother. ‘Yes, we have looked at a few.’

  ‘Or perhaps Welsh ones,’ Beth says and crunches into a pudding.

  ‘What’s wrong with good old English names?’ his mum says quietly.

  ‘Nothing, Mum. We’re really just thinking of lots of names at the moment.’

  ‘And we thought it might be nice to be a bit different, too,’ Beth says.

  His mum sets her chin and looks at Beth. ‘I think you and Charlotte would get on. She’s always banging on about being different.’

  ‘I take it you don’t approve?’ Beth counters, pushing her plate to one side so hard the cutlery rattles.

  ‘I can’t see the point in being different just for the sake of it.’ His mum nods at Beth’s midriff. ‘And I’m sure your little one won’t like a name that’s so odd, he or she will get bullied at school.’

  ‘What’s for pud?’ James says kicking Beth’s foot under the table. ‘I bet it’s treacle sponge and custard.’

  ‘He’s a mind reader isn’t he, Jen?’ his dad says, jumping up and clearing the plates. ‘Come on, love, I’ll give you a hand with it.’

  His wife stays seated for a few moments staring at Beth. Beth folds her arms and opens her mouth to say something.

  ‘Home-made custard too, is it?’ James says, before she can.

  His mum gives a brief smile, picks up some crockery and follows his dad into the kitchen.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Beth hisses as soon as they’re out of earshot. ‘Why do you always pander to her nasty little swipes at my heritage?’

  ‘I’m not. I just don’t want a full-scale row at the dinner table. We’re here for Lottie, remember?’

  ‘Yes, but that was before it was so obvious that she didn’t relish the thought of a grandchild that would be part black. She covered it well, but it was there in her eyes alright.’

  James had to admit to himself that thought had crossed his mind when his mum’s smile hadn’t quite met her eyes earlier. In the end they wouldn’t know for sure unless they asked her outright and even then, she’d not tell the truth. ‘I can’t see the point in guessing at what goes on in her head. Let’s just do what we set out to do.’

  ‘We don’t have to guess.’ Beth affects his mum’s manner and accent and says, ‘What’s wrong with English names, the poor child will be bullied if you give it a smelly old Nigerian one.’

  ‘Shh, they’ll hear you,’ James says and tries to keep a straight face. Beth had really got his mum off to a T.

  ‘So how are we going to bring Lottie’s situation up?’ Beth says.

  ‘Leave it to me.’

  James has three helpings of treacle sponge to avoid bringing up his sister, but then Beth kicks him under the table and he knows he has to go for it. ‘So the thing is, Lottie has – had – a boyfriend who told me some stuff that she’d told him about what happened when I came back into all of your lives.’

  His dad comes in at that moment carrying a tray full of rattling cups and a coffee pot, which gives James time to weigh up the expression on his mum’s face. He guesses at a cross between shock and anger. His dad sets the tray on the table and begins to pour out coffee.

  ‘I’m sorry. Can you repeat that? I’m not sure I heard it all because of your dad rattling the cups.’

  James knows full well that she heard every word but repeats it anyway.

  James’s dad frowns and sits down.

  ‘So this boyfriend—’ his mum begins.

  ‘Ex-boyfriend, his name’s Caleb.’

  ‘Right,’ she says slowly. ‘This Caleb tells you that Charlotte has told him things about our family?’

  ‘Yes. Things I didn’t know. Things that explain Lottie’s behaviour around the time she had counselling and was expelled from school.’

  His mum crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. ‘What’s she told him?’

  James feels on the spot and wonders how to proceed. He predicts that whatever he says won’t be met with a good response. ‘Er, that you didn’t handle my reappearance very well.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Well, Lottie says—’

  ‘Why Lottie? I used to want to call her that and she would never allow it – wouldn’t let anyone call her that.’

  ‘As I said earlier, she prefers it now,’ Beth says in a chirpy manner and smiles into her coffee.

  James ignores this and ploughs on. ‘She told Caleb that you were cruel to her, said vile things about her to her face.’ James tells her word for word what Caleb told him.

  There is a very uncomfortable silence and then into it his mum says, ‘Well, she would say something like that, wouldn’t she? If she’s landed herself a man, or had for a while at least, she might have opened up a bit about her past. She’d have to have made stuff up to justify what she did to me, wouldn’t she?’

  ‘You mean when she cut off all your hair and set the shed on fire?’ Beth asks in a quiet voice.

  ‘She didn’t cut all my hair off, just one side… but yes.’

  ‘So, you didn’t say all those terrible things?’ James asks.

  ‘Of course not. She was just spoiled rotten because we were making up for losing you, I suppose… our fault to an extent. But there’s something selfish in her, reckless, wayward, and she was insanely jealous. I told you all this at the time when she refused to meet you, James.’

  James looks at his mother’s trembling lips and pink face and can tell that the colour is blooming from lies and guilt. He looks at his dad, but his eyes are anywhere but on his son. ‘Dad?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Is that how it was?’

  ‘I’ve just told you how it was—’ his mum snaps.

  ‘I’m asking Dad.’

  His dad looks at the ceiling and sighs. Then he looks at his wife and shakes his head twice. ‘No. This Caleb has it right.’

  ‘Keith!’

  ‘Well, it’s true. I’m not going to sit here and lie to our son’s face. You’ve done that for too many years.’

  James hears Beth’s sharp intake of breath and watches his mum’s face crumple and morph into a Greek tragedy mask. She draws in a breath through the stretch of her downturned mouth and lets it out with a big sob; her shoulders heave and two mascara teardrops trickle down her cheeks.

  ‘Don’t get upset, Mum.’

  ‘Don’t get upset!’ she yells, a bubble of snot popping out of her right nostril. ‘How can I not?’

  ‘Come on, love…’ James’s dad begins and puts his hand on his wife’s.

  She flings her hand in the air as if his hand had an electric current passing through it. ‘Don’t come on love me! Why did you have to go against me, Keith?’

  ‘I just told the truth, that’s all…’

  ‘Nobody is going against you, Jenny,’ Beth says in a soothing tone. ‘We just want the best for Lottie, for everyone, and in order to get that we have to admit
what actually happened all those years ago, so we can move on.’

  ‘What’s all this “we” business?’ The woeful tragedy mask is quickly replaced by a hard-edged, sharp-eyed expression. ‘You weren’t even on the scene back then, so what the hell do you know about it?’

  James is sick of his mother’s nasty attitude to his wife and says, ‘Beth wasn’t there then but she is very much part of my family now and you’d better get used to it.’ He doesn’t hide the cold anger in his voice.

  ‘Yes, well you can’t know what it was like back then when I was sixteen. None of you can, well apart from Keith, but he didn’t go through the nine months of carrying you, giving birth to you, only to have you wrenched from his arms.’ The tragedy mask was back. So were the tears.

  ‘I bet it was awful, but then you had Charlotte. Surely you were happy when she came into your lives?’ James says and looks to Beth or his dad for help. They are both staring at the table.

  ‘But she was always so wilful, stubborn. I didn’t feel like she was part of me somehow… not like you were, love.’

  James says nothing. He has no words. But his mum has plenty.

  ‘I felt like she’d been sent to punish us somehow for giving you away. Nothing we ever did was right for her, she wouldn’t do as she was told, always fought us, didn’t she, Keith?’

  His dad gives a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t know. I think you provoked her, to be honest, Jenny. You never cut her any slack.’

  His mum throws her hands up. ‘Oh, I see. It’s all coming out now, isn’t it? Big bad Jenny was to blame for us having an evil little witch for a daughter!’

  ‘For God’s sake, Mum, she was a child! Just a child.’

  ‘Like I was when I had you, people forget that! People forget what all that did to me!’

  ‘Seems like it was you who needed the counselling, not Lottie,’ Beth says.

  ‘How dare you!’ His mum bangs her fist on the table.

  ‘Beth’s right, she’s not being unkind, Mum. It was awful what you were pressured into doing by your dad and Dad’s parents too. It would have helped to talk to a professional.’

  ‘That’s as may be, but you think that Lottie didn’t need counselling for creeping into my room and cutting my hair off and then setting fire to our bloody shed?’ She addresses Beth.

  Beth puts her head on one side and looks at the ceiling, ‘That’s a tough call. I think it could have helped if she wasn’t trying to contend with your rejection at home all the time, I’m not sure. But I don’t think her actions were quite so out there, given what you said to her, how you treated her. It’s a good job your mother was there for her, that’s all I can say.’

  His mother opens and closes her mouth a few times and more mascara tears poised in the well of her eyes chase each other down her face. She looks at her son. ‘Don’t you understand how much I was hurting after they took you away, and how much joy you brought into my life when you returned?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Well, not really, but I can try to imagine what it must have been like for you back when it all happened. But having me back in your life shouldn’t have meant that Lottie lost out. There should have been room for both of us.’

  ‘I know you’re not keen on me, Jenny, but I honestly think you would do well to have counselling. It isn’t too late, and it might help to heal the terrible damage that was undoubtedly done to you all those years ago.’ Beth smiles at his mum. James can tell it is her professional smile, but he knows she’s trying her best to make things better.

  His mum puts a shaking hand to her mouth. ‘You think I was damaged by it all?’ She looks at James and Beth.

  ‘Of course you were, Mum. And now we need a new beginning. What needs to be done now is for you to apologise to Lottie, to acknowledge that you were wrong, and for us all to try and build a family from these bitter fragments.’ James surprises himself with that. He thinks he can see his mum soften.

  ‘Not sure I can – not sure where to begin.’ She looks at her husband. ‘We have spent the past few years trying to put it all behind us. Me and Lottie are fine now…’ Her words run out and she starts the silent sobbing he remembers from their reunion.

  ‘Things are not fine at all. Caleb told me how she feels about you, about all of it. You have done so much damage and need to put it right. The whole mess has damaged a brother and sister too. If you had handled it properly from the beginning, Lottie and I could be great friends by now.’ James stops and draws his hands down his face. ‘Oh, I’m not blameless. I could have tried harder, a damn sight harder.’ He looks at his dad. ‘And so could you, Dad. Yes, Mum is a strong character, but you should have stood your ground.’

  His dad sighs. ‘Yes. You’re absolutely right, lad. I was all for wanting a quiet life, pushed things to the back of my mind. And nowadays Lottie keeps in contact, we see her fairly often and, well, I thought everything was okay.’

  ‘Yes, well it’s time to make things right now. We have a new life coming into this family and we’d like it to have an auntie on the scene,’ Beth says, squeezing James’s knee under the table.

  There’s a round of smiles – even his mum manages a watery one. ‘This Caleb. Why have he and Char… Lottie fallen out, then?’ his mum asks.

  ‘Because he came to see me behind her back and tried to make an effort to get us together. They went on holiday last week and became closer. He told her that he’d come to see me and—’

  ‘She went bloody nuts and sent him packing,’ his mum says.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I know my daughter. That’s why I’m not hopeful that an apology will work.’ The button mouth is back.

  ‘You will have to try bloody hard to make it work, then. Because I’ll tell you this,’ James says, jabbing a finger across the table at his parents, ‘I’m not giving up on my sister this time, and I’m damned if I’ll let you two, either.’

  Beth squeezes his hand and both parents look at him with respectful eyes. James thinks that the whole thing went as well as it could have done, and he makes a wish that he’ll be reunited with his sister very soon.

  19

  Days of Wine and Roses

  I have been at Little Petherick Vineyard for only one day, but it feels like I’ve always been here. The vineyard sits on the south-facing slopes above the tiny picturesque village of the same name and looks over the Camel estuary. The views are stunning, and when I stand on the brow of the hill outside Louisa’s cottage and look at the sweep of regimented vines down towards the river, I feel like I’ve somehow been transported to France. I never imagined a vineyard in England, and although this one is very small, it produces the most delicious sparkling wines and rosé. I know this because I had a wine tasting session last night. It can kick out a few bottles of red too, but Louisa says that the climate in England isn’t good at producing the rich full-bodied ones that some people prefer.

  Everyone is so friendly, too, and Louisa’s nephews, Jack and Ronan, have given me the grand tour of the crushing shed, as she calls it, where the wine making is done. There’s nothing in there at the moment though, because harvest time won’t be until the autumn. For now, all the vines are in flower, so delicate and pretty, and the scent as you wander through the rows is just heavenly. Louisa says I can come back and lend a hand at harvest time if I want to. It’s great that she wants to make me part of her life. I haven’t mentioned the big fat secret though, but I think I will tonight.

  I’m going to have a little look round the gift shop now before the tourists arrive. There aren’t coach loads, but Louisa says they get fifteen to twenty couples or so each day through the main season. That’s due to the leaflets in the guest houses round Padstow and the surrounding area, plus some of the shops in Padstow have little posters in their establishments advertising local wine. Ronan does a tasting tour, too, and that proves popular.

  Louisa’s sister Suzie is in the shop today as her husband Paul is off delivering wine to Padstow and around. They are similar to look at, though
Suzie is nine years younger, has raven hair and is plumper around her core. I guess that’s because she’s had children.

  ‘Morning, Lottie. Sleep well?’

  ‘I did, thank you. It’s so quiet and peaceful here it would be hard not to – plus the wine tasting helped to send me on my way.’

  ‘Ah yes, lovely stuff.’ Suzie picks up a brightly coloured bowl, dusts it and sets it back on display.

  I pick it up and turn it round in my hands. The sun angling in through the window highlights the smudges of russet and yellow as the colours run into each other. Suzie says the artist got his inspiration from the autumn hues of the vine leaves. I can see that now. As I look more closely I can make out the subtle blended edges of leaves and this makes me want to paint. I don’t know what exactly; I only feel the physical need to do it.

  ‘You’ve certainly made a good impression on my sister. I haven’t seen her as enthusiastic about a person since… well, I can’t remember.’ Suzie’s cheeks dimple in a smile.

  ‘I’m glad. I feel the same about her. We just gelled, I think you’d say. I’m so lucky to have met her.’ I place the bowl carefully back on the shelf. ‘And I can’t remember feeling at home so quickly anywhere, either.’ I turn around and draw in a breath of lavender, cheese and warm eggs on straw. ‘Everything here is just so… so…’ I look at Suzie and shrug.

  ‘Comforting?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it exactly. And Louisa is so strong and cheerful all the time – that adds to it, of course.’

  ‘It is indeed comforting. I’m glad we only live down in the village or I’d get withdrawal symptoms.’ She grins, and the dimples deepen. ‘And yes, Louisa is strong and generally happy. There was a time after Jagger died that I thought she’d crumble, though.’ The dimples flatten, and Suzie rearranges the eggs in the basket.

  ‘Not surprised, he was her soulmate, wasn’t he?’ I hope this sounds okay as I have no idea what that really means.

  ‘He was. I have never met a couple before or since so right for each other.’