At last we reach Hayley. I try not to notice her perfectly toasted breasts and hourglass figure tucked into a neat white one-piece swimsuit. To me she looks more like a playboy bunny than a queen of bunny rabbits. The boys run towards her and hug her. She smiles at me, and her brown eyes spill into mine. I pull my eyes away. Men have to be so careful these days.
Maelstrom. Poseidon’s Peril. Aqua Splash. Stormchaser. We do all the slides twice. So fast, with their rotating strobe lights of many colours. I feel dizzy. I feel sick.
‘Come on, Dad, let’s go to the pirate ship now.’
The life-sized plastic pirate ship, Coralina, is guarded by water cannons. Bunnies forgotten now, the boys run around pretending they are pirates, having sword fights. Arguing about where to find treasure. I sense Hayley is staring at me. Wondering whether I am imagining it, I glance across at her. Her eyes meet mine and she blushes. Is she blushing? Or is her skin red because it’s eighty degrees in here?
‘It’s hot in here,’ I say.
‘So take off all your clothes,’ she replies with the same intonation as the cheeky song by Nelly that was in the charts years ago.
‘I thought you’d be too young to remember that song.’
Frightened she might notice the stirring in my crotch, I push my waist against the hull of the ship and watch a group of teenagers swim past. She comes and stands beside me.
‘My mother likes that song.’
Her mother. And I’m old enough to be her father. Even though I felt betrayed when you kissed Aiden, I’m not going to stoop to revenge sex. The last thing I want is to flirt with our nanny and upset you. And you seem upset enough right now. I value my marriage, my relationship, more than anything in the world. I must be careful with Hayley. I must not give her the wrong impression.
50
Caprice
I’m sweltering in Coral Reef’s café, because it opens onto the over-heated swimming area. Sweat pools behind my knees. It drips down my shoulders and clusters in the small of my back, fastening to my face like a second skin. I’m so bored because I’ve finished the crossword. The café has a showcase view of the revellers at Waterworld, and so unfortunately I hear the raucous sound of their laughing and shouting. Is everyone enjoying this place apart from me? The heat and the noise press against me – so intrusive, they could be solid objects.
Across the water I see Hayley and Miles standing together on the pirate ship, Harry and Ben frolicking in front of them. I wave across to them. If I can catch their attention I’ll gesticulate for them to come out of the pool immediately. My flesh is beginning to cook.
But they do not see me, so I have no choice but to read the newspaper. Again. And check I’ve got the crossword clues right. As I check the clues my mind plays tricks. For a second I am back in time doing the crossword with Rupert, sitting so close to him that our breath is entangled. I remember the feel of him. His scent of Old Spice mingled with tobacco that was always so reassuring, so comforting. My stomach lurches as I remember the way he would hold me in bed, hug me and love me. Every night and every morning. Old and alone, no one ever touches me now.
I watch you with Miles, taking him for granted, Saffron. Leaving him so often at evenings and weekends to pursue your own life. How is it fair that you still have your man, and I do not have my Rupert?
They are here, at last, walking across the café towards me, faces red and radiant, grinning broadly. Their wet hair slick against their heads like a pod of seals. They look so happy I determine not to complain about how uncomfortable I’ve been. I just won’t come here again. I’ve heard grandparents complaining about the artificiality of Center Parcs. But Center Parcs cannot be any worse than this, except for the fact you have to stay there overnight.
‘Hello, Granny,’ Harry says. Ben nudges him. ‘I mean Caprice.’
I ignore that mishap. ‘What can I get you for lunch? It’s my treat,’ I say and pause. I wrinkle my nose. ‘I’ve looked at what’s available. It’s a limp sandwich. Or something and chips.’
‘Something and chips,’ they reply, almost in unison.
‘Well then you’ve got two choices: fish or chicken nuggets.’
The boys bleat for nuggets. The adults fancy fish. I walk across to the counter, order and pay.
‘I’ll bring it across when it’s ready,’ a pale young woman wearing no make-up says. She really ought to do something to brighten herself up.
As I step back towards the table, I look across at Miles, Hayley, Ben and Harry. They are chatting, heads together like a family. A family that has time for one another. A real family.
51
Hayley
‘Mmm, thank you, Caprice. That was delicious. Fish and double-cooked chips. Done well, there’s nothing better,’ I say.
Caprice looks across at me and smiles. She is a good-looking old girl. Smooth skin. Large round eyes. Pale blonde hair, so pale it’s almost white, shining in the pool’s halogen lights. Tastefully dressed as usual, like a model in a cruise catalogue. Slacks and a blouse. A beauty really. Hard to believe she’s nearly seventy years old.
‘Caprice,’ Ben says pointedly, ‘will you take me to the bathroom?’
‘And me?’ Harry adds.
‘I’ll go,’ I volunteer.
‘No. That’s fine, dear. I’m happy to go.’
I don’t think they need to go to the bathroom. I think they just want to walk their indulgent grandmother past the chocolate machine, without their father knowing. I heard them whispering about it on the way here. They skip off across the café, Caprice trailing behind them.
So it’s just you and me, Miles. I look across at you finishing your chips. Your hair is drying in the heat, returning to its usual dark blond. The hair that I would love to run my fingers through.
‘How did you meet Saffron?’ I ask.
The best way to disguise feelings for a married man is to ask him plenty of questions about his wife.
‘I fell in love with her at university.’
‘I rather guessed that from the photograph in the hallway.’
You grin. ‘So you’re a detective.’
‘Not exactly. Standing together in degree gowns. It’s a bit of a no-brainer. I meant more the exact moment you met. What brought you together?’
His face softens. ‘We were in a tutorial. Just the two of us. The tutor introduced us. “Miss Filby,” he said. And I looked across. Miss Filby was quite simply the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. As the tutorial progressed I realised she was also the cleverest.’ He shrugs. ‘We bumped into each other at a party that evening, and we’ve been together ever since.’
‘It’s funny how it works so quickly sometimes, isn’t it? As soon as you see someone you care about, you just know.’
‘You speak from the heart.’
I look into your warm eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘Do you want to tell me your story?’
‘No. Not right now. It’s an ongoing situation.’
You raise your eyebrows. ‘Well good luck with it then.’
‘I need it.’
‘Things happened fast between my mother and father too,’ you say.
‘She misses him – doesn’t she?’
‘Very perceptive. Yes.’
You lean across the table and put your hand on my arm. My stomach jolts with pleasure. Your eyes cloud. ‘She’s vulnerable. And we all need to be supportive towards her.’
We are interrupted by Caprice, Harry and Ben coming back. As you turn to greet them you pull your hand from my arm.
‘I want ice cream,’ Harry demands.
‘Say please then,’ Ben insists.
‘Please. Please. Please.’
‘My treat this time,’ I say as I leave the table.
I know Caprice saw you touching me. She’s looking at me. What is she thinking? She must disapprove of me. If Caprice disapproves of me, I’m stuffed. She’s the powerhouse around here.
52
Caprice
You w
ere back so late last night after gallivanting in Hereford, that your family hasn’t seen you over the weekend. Not a glimpse. You are a shadow of a mother. A ghost.
Monday morning; 6 a.m. I’m eating boiled eggs and grapefruit in the kitchen, when you pop in for a cup of coffee and a smoothie. You wince in your usual manner as I crack the shell of my first egg. You condescending bitch. How do you expect me to eat it? At 6.15 a.m., you leave. I sigh with relief, crack my second boiled egg, and sit listening to Today on Radio 4.
At 8 a.m., the kitchen door opens. Ben and Harry tumble in, school uniforms in disarray; Ben’s shirt is hanging out, Harry’s shoelaces spill across the floor. They’re followed by Miles and Hayley. Hayley looks clean and crisp and sharp. Miles is sporting his casual professor look. Loose-fitting cords, suede boots and a crumpled check shirt. He pushes his generous hair back from his eyes and smiles at me. My world lights up.
‘Good morning, Mum,’ he says as he lays the table.
‘Morning, Granny,’ Harry says with a giggle.
I give him my look, my I’ll put you on a spit and roast you look. Ben sighs sympathetically and shakes his head. He points his finger accusingly at his brother and laughs.
‘Good morning, Caprice,’ Hayley says, flashing her even teeth as she smiles. Everything about Hayley is even. Balanced cheekbones. Balanced figure. A girl with boobs and hips. ‘How’s it going this morning?’ she asks.
‘I’ve been up a while. I couldn’t sleep.’
She frowns in concern. ‘What’s the matter? I hope you’re not feeling ill?’
Miles is helping himself to Dorset Cereal, rattling it into his bowl. He looks up. ‘Yes. Are you all right, Mum?’
‘Just a bit of back pain. Stuff happens at my age. I took a few ibuprofen and it went.’
‘Well, let me know if I can do anything. Get you anything,’ Hayley says.
‘Thank you.’
‘Boys, what do you want for breakfast? The usual?’
They nod. Hayley puts a box of Weetabix on the table and they help themselves. She must be on a diet; she sits at the table sipping a black coffee. I sit watching the bad table manners of my grandsons. Harry isn’t holding his spoon correctly. He slurps the milk from around his cereal, sucking it up like a vacuum cleaner. Ben is chomping. There must be something wrong with his teeth for him to make so much noise. I’ll be sure to mention this to Saffron, when I next see her.
Miles is staring into the middle of the kitchen, in a daydream. No doubt contemplating one of his obscure philosophical ideas. His research is so obscure and irrelevant. He’s lucky to be paid for it. Is that why he puts up with Saffron? Because she’s the one who earns the money? I’m sorry he feels the need to stick with her. I have more than enough money to give him. My husband, Rupert, made so much. Surely he knows he doesn’t have to put up with a selfish bint for money?
Hayley is glancing across at Miles. She never takes her eyes off him for long. We watch my son finish his breakfast, gulp the end of his coffee, and suddenly snap his focus back into the room. He stands up, pulls the car keys from the drawer behind him, twisting them around his middle finger.
‘Come on, boys. Whose turn is it to sit in the front?’
‘Saffron doesn’t let anyone sit in the front,’ I remind him. Just to make sure he realises how difficult his wife can be with anyone who tries to help with the children.
‘You don’t need to tell Daddy that. You’re a spoilsport,’ Ben announces.
‘Me, a spoilsport?’
‘Yes, Granny. You always let me sit in the front so why do you have to spoil it?’
‘I rather think it’s your mother who’s the spoilsport,’ I snap.
‘Come on, Ben – no one’s a spoilsport,’ Miles says. ‘I’ll talk to Mum. I expect she knows you sit in the front. Mums have eyes in the backs of their heads.’
‘I love my mummy so much. I just don’t want to get in trouble.’
Miles puts his arm around Ben and holds Harry’s hand as they leave. ‘We all love Mummy and I promise she won’t be cross.’
Hayley clears the breakfast dishes and I help her. We listen to the radio in companionable silence. The Today programme is still on, repeating itself. Going around in circles. Not really designed to be listened to for the full three hours. But it is a comfortable background noise, part of my daily routine.
When the last bowl is in the dishwasher, and the kitchen is wiped clean, just as Hayley turns to leave, ‘Why don’t you come for a walk around the garden with me?’ I suggest. She hesitates. ‘Or are you too busy?’ I continue.
She shifts her weight awkwardly. ‘Well, Saffron has left a few chores for me.’
I put my head on one side and shrug. ‘I’m a chore, aren’t I?’
Hayley smiles. ‘I wouldn’t perceive you like that.’
‘How would you perceive me?’
‘Well, for a start you’re beautiful.’
‘No one has said that to me for a long time,’ I reply, my heart melting at her kind words. ‘Come on, humour me, come for a walk in the garden.’
She nods in assent. I smile and step towards her, threading my arm through hers. We step outside into a warm November day, bright sunlight sharpening the edges of the world around us.
‘It’s not the best time of year for the garden, but if you take note of what it looks like now, you’ll appreciate its summer glory all the more.’
We walk past my poky annexe. How they expected me to live there, I don’t know. Saffron must have brainwashed Miles. Left to himself, he would never treat me like that. Past the play area, past the swimming pool now closed for the season. Down the passageway between the swimming pool and the tennis courts, and through the thick line of spruce trees that Saffron insisted on keeping. And then the garden opens out. As we walk, I point out: asters, Japanese anemone, chrysanthemums, carnations, gentian, dahlia and calla lilies.
‘But … but … It’s full of colour. I didn’t expect that in the UK at this time of year,’ Hayley exclaims. ‘I loved the dahlias at Hampton Court, but this display is even more varied and impressive.’
‘I designed the planting plan,’ I tell her, shoulders wide and proud.
‘It’s amazing,’ she exclaims, eyes shining with pleasure. ‘It’s a pity you can’t see it from the house.’
‘I know. I told them that when the architect was designing the house, but Saffron overruled me.’ I pause. ‘Are you interested in horticulture?’ I ask.
‘Yes. I’m going to take a diploma in gardening in Auckland when I finally return home.’ She looks across at me and smiles awkwardly. ‘Not that I’m in a hurry. I’m very happy here, in my job. It’s just something I’d like to do long term.’
‘I’ll take you to Wisley one day. It’s the best place in the UK to learn about plants.’
We sit on a bench in the corner of the garden. Beneath the shade of a weeping willow, I squeeze her arm. ‘I need to tell you something, Hayley …’
53
Hayley
Caprice leans forwards, eyes gleaming. ‘I think Miles is strongly attracted to you.’
An electric shock runs through me. ‘But he seems so in love with Saffron,’ I protest.
‘His marriage is a sham. He just puts on a brave face.’
‘How do you know?’ I ask, still cautious.
‘A mother always knows.’ Caprice smiles. ‘I’ve lived with Miles and Saffron for four years now. I see things. I hear things. Arguments. Discussions. Every day I watch their antagonistic body language.’ She pauses. ‘And recently, I’ve seen the way Miles looks at you, with an expression on his face that I’ve never seen before. You mean something to him. Something new. Something big. I’ve been mulling over this for a while. I know I’m right. I’m always right about things to do with Miles. It’s a mother’s duty to help a son live the best possible life. To lead a perfect life, you need a perfect wife. You are perfect for Miles.’
54
Saffron
I go into
the office early, before Ted and Julie. Sitting down, I try to clear my head. What a weekend. Visiting James Shoestring’s home. James. Retired bond dealer from the City. Lending to those in difficulty with their global investments, he seems to have made more money since he left his job, than he made doing it. But he is such a difficult client. Despite his enormous mansion, I was given a small unheated room to work in. You’d think he could put the central heating on in December. What a skinflint. We had a meeting in his sumptuous dining room, with its de Gournay wallpaper, which he enjoyed boasting about. But I was so cold I wished I had brought my ski jacket. I made a suggestion, and he shouted; yelled at the top of his voice. His face went red. Spittle flew out with his words.
I returned home so late on Sunday night that everyone else in my family was asleep. I slipped into bed, naked, next to Miles, and lay against him, skin on skin. He stirred and kissed me. We made love. I smile inside as I remember. The highlight of my weekend. But after that I couldn’t sleep. Worrying about my firm.
I switch on my computer and check my emails. Joshua Cassidy. He’s sorry but he’s going to pass on me as his private client lawyer. He wants someone younger. More dynamic. More in tune with his persona.
Disappointment skitters inside me. I really need some new work. Ted and Julie have agreed not to take their salaries until the loan comes in. Julie has assured me that she and Conrad are still an item and he is very happy to support her for a while. So this is affecting him too. I suppress the surge of panic rising in my stomach. Turning my mind in on itself, willing the loan to come in. Wishing I was religious and believed that a higher being could help.
55
Aiden
Miles is here, in my Chelsea apartment. Sitting on my black leather sofa, cradling a whisky. Wearing jeans with holes in, and a baggy green jumper.
‘So how’s it going?’ I ask.
‘How’s what going?’ he replies, voice sharp. ‘My work? Or my marriage?’
The Unwelcome Guest Page 10
