by K. L. Slater
Despite the drama, we’ve managed to enjoy a hearty Sunday lunch that everyone seemed to relish, apart from Amber, who merely pushed a few vegetables around on her plate.
‘Noah’s favourite dessert, this one, and I even added cinnamon, too. How’s that? Now, Master Jukes, will it be cream or custard today?’
I wink at my grandson only to find he is looking warily at Amber. As soon as he arrived today, I noticed that the bandage on his hand had been removed. I decide not to mention it but I notice he’s still moving it a little gingerly as he rubs his eyes.
‘Remember what we said this morning about choices, Noah,’ Amber says quietly, maintaining eye contact with him.
‘Choices?’ Puzzled, I place the pie on the table mat and perch on the edge of my chair.
‘I chose to have Frosted Shreddies for breakfast,’ Noah says meekly, his eyes glistening.
‘And?’
‘The boys are eating too much sugar, Mum,’ Ben explains as Amber nods in agreement. ‘They’re allowed one sweet treat a day now, and they chose to have it at breakfast time.’
‘But I want some of Nanny’s pie,’ Noah whines, pulling at Ben’s arm.
‘I’ve made the pie now,’ I say reasonably. ‘And we always have dessert after lunch …’ I wink at Noah again and then smile at my son. ‘Maybe just this once?’
Ben turns to Amber and she looks back at him meaningfully.
‘No, Mum. Sorry.’ He turns back to me. ‘It’s for their own good.’
Noah bursts into tears and launches his robot toy into the air. When it clatters to the floor, he growls and kicks it away from him.
‘Well, the odd dessert never did you any harm growing up,’ I say to Ben, getting to my feet. I’m trembling. I refuse to stay in here trying to make them see sense any longer. ‘If the boys can’t have pudding then neither will anyone else.’
Henry avoids my glare. I’ve noticed he’s been quieter and is pleasingly wary around me since my recent outbursts.
I pick up the pie and take it through to the kitchen. I slam the white and blue tin dish down onto the worktop, and then a better idea occurs to me.
Flinging the back door open, I stalk out to the bin and throw in the pie, dish and all. I close the lid with a thump, feeling triumphant.
When I return to the kitchen, Henry is waiting, an incredulous look on his face. Ben and Amber appear, looming up behind him.
‘What?’ I throw my hands up at their open mouths. ‘If my grandson isn’t allowed dessert then none of us will have it. How’s that?’
I pull the back door closed behind me.
‘Mum, that’s just downright ridiculous,’ Ben says.
Noah squeezes through the cluster of adults and snuggles into my side.
‘You’re behaving like a child yourself, Judi,’ Henry huffs. ‘I was looking forward to a piece of that pie.’
‘Well, so was Noah,’ I say, ruffling his hair. ‘But as we’ve all learned today, you can’t always have what you want.’
I glare at Amber, my eyes glowing, and she looks coolly back at me.
A thought pops into my head, a kind of epiphany, if you like. This woman is like a cancer in our lives. She’s taken hold, been allowed to flourish and now we have a real problem.
At the surgery, Dr Fielder is fond of saying that there is only one attitude worth having when it comes to cancer, and that is to be prepared to battle tooth and nail. To have the best chance of surviving, you have to fight it with every fibre of your being.
48
Amber
The weekend had been just brilliant. She couldn’t have planned it better if she’d written a wish list of Judi’s emotions and reactions.
It was little wonder Judi had been put out by their engagement news, and what she’d said had been quite true.
It was crazy that they were getting married.
It was too soon and Ben didn’t know her.
He had never thought to question why she was suddenly here, in the middle of his life. Sometimes she wondered if he was frightened of losing her. Perhaps after Louise died, he’d convinced himself that he’d live the rest of his life alone. Just working, bringing up his two sons and calling at his mother’s for tea every day. A grim thought for anyone.
But then there were times when life ruthlessly dealt you your worst nightmare; some people had no choice in the matter. As she herself knew only too well.
Ben had followed his heart and acted rashly by almost anyone’s standards in proposing so early on, but Amber didn’t care about that. It more than suited her purposes.
She’d watched Judi carefully in the midst of all the engagement furore. She could see clearly that she was having a great deal of trouble processing what had happened, what had gone wrong.
This woman who’d got used to covertly controlling her family thus far.
It occurred to Amber that a less observant person than herself might easily assume it was that blustering old fart Henry who was the figurehead of the family, but that was just a smokescreen.
The selfless super-cook image that Judi had fostered over the years had certainly stood her in good stead, almost disguising the quietly domineering matriarch alter ego that operated from the shadows.
Denial was a better word to use to describe Judi’s reaction to the happy news … denial that she had finally lost the struggle to keep her son and grandsons firmly in her iron grasp.
Once they were married, the process would be complete. Judi’s hold would be gone, and she knew it.
And Amber had watched with great pleasure as the realisation had dawned on her haggard face like the sun finally setting at the end of a very long, troubling day.
49
Judi
Later, when they’ve all left, I run a bath and relax back into the bubbles, allowing the warm water to lap over my cramped shoulder muscles.
The day hasn’t been the success I hoped it would be; in fact it has been quite the nightmare. I feel like my son and grandsons are on a runaway juggernaut that moves further away from me every hour of the day.
Although I fully intended to enjoy our family afternoon without any concern as to what Amber made of proceedings, she has managed to poison our family time from here on in.
Of course, she couldn’t have done this without Ben deferring to her every time she makes one of her ill-considered judgements about what is best for the boys. She has grown in power and danger because Ben has every intention of making her his wife and therefore the boys’ legal stepmother.
I realise something worrying. Just lately, every time I think about my son, I feel a twinge of resentment that after everything we’ve been through together after losing Louise, he has turned out to be such a lightweight the second an attractive woman appears on the scene.
It’s so rare these days that I get to speak to him on his own, but the couple of times it’s happened, I can’t get past his passionate defending of Amber, no matter how unreasonable she’s being. Now I know why, after seeing the contents of her bedside drawers. She’s casting a well-planned, seductive spell on him and he doesn’t even realise it.
Ben is university-educated, a committed father who works with young people every day, and yet he’s taking advice on his precious sons from a woman who is … some kind of childcare expert? We don’t know. As with most things, we’ve simply had to take her word for what she tells us about her life before Ben.
Of course, I can understand there might be unresolved trauma in her past life according to the very scant details Ben told me, but she seems very well practised in changing the subject or feeling unwell every time something doesn’t suit. And my Sunbeam Lodge discovery goes some way to offering a possible explanation of why this might be.
I’ve given up hoping that Amber might furnish us with more information. I’m going to have to find out about her past for myself.
I don’t stay in the bath long. I’m antsy and finding it increasingly difficult to relax. I used to enjoy reading a novel whi
le I bathed, but my mind is too active for that now.
Thinking about a plan to find out more about Amber has excited me, given me a feeling of control again, which is a welcome change from the frustration and hopelessness that’s been the norm up until now.
I have two things particularly on my mind: a visit to Sunbeam Lodge and enquiring a bit more into Amber’s job.
I dry myself in the bathroom and slip on the unused cotton dressing gown that’s still hanging on the door from Fiona’s ill-fated visit on Friday.
In the bedroom, I comb through my wet hair and smear a little moisturiser on to my dry face. I used to take great pleasure in keeping a good skincare routine, but the last few weeks it’s gone to pot and now my skin feels tight and flaky.
I realise I’ve still got my earrings on, so I take them out and open my jewellery box to drop them in. And I freeze.
The gold and citrine necklace is back in there, sitting on top of everything else.
It’s as if it was never missing in the first place.
When Henry gets in from his monthly local history group meeting just after nine, I meet him at the door. He doesn’t see me at first; he’s busy looking at his phone. All thoughts of continuing the silent treatment have now evaporated. I stand there, my hand drifting in mid-air.
‘What is it?’ He stuffs his phone back in his pocket and looks alarmed. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’
‘Sh-she put it back,’ I stammer. ‘It’s in there again.’
‘What?’ He frowns. ‘Who put what back?’
‘The necklace,’ I whisper. ‘It’s back in my jewellery box.’
He shakes his head and moves past me. ‘I doubt it was ever missing in the first place, Judi. You probably just didn’t look thoroughly enough.’
‘I did look, and I’m telling you, it wasn’t there,’ I protest, following him into the living room. ‘Amber put it back again. It’s the only rational explanation.’
‘Judi.’ He spins round and claps his hand to his forehead. ‘Enough of this. I can’t take it any more, this … this utter nonsense you’re constantly peddling. You’re about as far from being rational as you could be.’
‘I don’t care if you believe me or not,’ I tell him. ‘I know I’m right and before long you’ll realise that. I just hope Ben sees through her before it’s too late, before something really bad happens.’
‘Save it, will you? They’re to be married now.’ Henry sits down and flicks on the TV. ‘And frankly, I’ve heard enough. We’ve all heard enough.’
Despite Henry’s insults, and purely to keep myself busy, I make him a cocoa on autopilot, out of habit, and take it through. While he drinks it, I tidy round in the kitchen and set the dishwasher going before I head off to bed. I know I’ll be tossing and turning, probably for hours, before a nightmare-twisted sleep descends, but I crave the peace of being alone, away from Henry’s cutting words.
I’m finding it very difficult to make sense of the reappearance of the necklace. Even I am surprised that Amber would have the sheer audacity to firstly take it and subsequently replace it. Yet it’s the only thing that makes any sense at all, and she did go upstairs again on her own earlier.
‘Judi,’ I hear Henry call in a bored voice from the other room. ‘Your phone’s going off.’
I run through and manage to snatch it up, pressing the answer call button at the same time that I register it is Ben’s name on the screen.
I decide in a split second that I’m going to tell him about the necklace right away. Put an end once and for all to the spiteful games Amber is playing.
50
Judi
‘Mum?’ Ben sounds breathless.
‘Ben? Is everything all right?’ Henry’s head snaps up as I grab on to the back of his chair.
‘It’s Noah, Mum. He’s really ill, we’ve brought him to A and E. The doctor’s just seen him and says he’s got food poisoning. Probably E. coli, they say. Poor little chap’s severely dehydrated, so they’ve put him on a drip.’
‘Oh no!’ I think about the lunch he ate here earlier and swallow hard. ‘Are they keeping him in?’
‘For a while, but they say he’s lucky we got him here when we did, because the next stage could’ve been kidney failure.’
‘My God.’ I widen my eyes.
‘What?’ Henry stands up, holding out his hands in frustration. ‘What’s happened?’
I cover the mouthpiece. ‘It’s Noah, he’s got food poisoning,’ I say in a hoarse whisper, then return to the call. ‘What happened, Ben, how did you first know he was ill?’
‘When we left your house, he was a bit quiet all afternoon. Amber took the boys up to bed at their usual time. An hour later, Noah’s in the loo shouting for us. He had the most terrible diarrhoea, Mum, passing blood.’
‘Oh, my poor Noah.’ My hand flies to my mouth and I can feel my eyes starting to prickle.
‘They’ve taken a stool sample for tests, but the doctor is ninety-nine per cent certain it’s E. coli.’
‘And how is he now?’
‘He’s in a bit of a bad way. I …’ I hear my son’s voice crack. ‘They say he’ll pick up quickly once he’s rehydrated but I can’t stop thinking what might have happened, Mum.’
‘Oh darling.’ I wipe my face. ‘Dad and I will come right now.’ I look at Henry, who is still standing, and he nods with some urgency.
There’s a silent pause at the end of the line.
‘There’s no point you coming down, honestly, Mum. Amber’s here looking after Josh. She’s been brilliant, I honestly don’t know how I’d have coped without her. Noah is completely out of it, sleeping, but they seem confident he’s out of danger now.
‘But—’
‘He’ll be off the drip soon and they say he’ll probably be fit enough to be discharged. It’d be best if you come and see him tomorrow, at home.’
I hesitate, but then I just say it. ‘No, Ben, I want to see him. We can be there in fifteen minutes flat. I won’t sleep otherwise.’
‘We’re OK, Mum. It’s best you stay put. I just called because I thought you should know what’s happening. That’s all.’ He falls quiet for a moment. ‘Amber and I are coping just fine.’
I beg him to keep us informed, and end the call. Then I sit down heavily in the chair.
‘So what’s happening?’ Henry asks.
I can’t speak for a few moments. I think about Ben’s face when he was a young boy. Inquisitive and loving, always on the go and trying something new. I was the person he ran to back then when life didn’t go the way he’d planned. Bruised from a playground spat, or the time he found his pet rabbit cold and still in the hutch when he went to feed him before school. These were things I could help with, simply by wrapping my arms around him and holding him close.
As our kids get older and become adults themselves, there’s a stage we unknowingly pass, from which point forward our role as parents diminishes in their life.
Now Noah is very ill and Ben and Josh are with him at the hospital. Amber is there too. Only a matter of weeks ago, I would have been the one there, supporting them.
I don’t know how or exactly when it began happening, but my son has moved on. They are a family now.
I hear Henry speak again, but his voice sounds far away. I close my eyes and allow myself to properly feel the cramping pain that fills my body. Today I’ve reached a new understanding. A cold, grey place I didn’t even know I was headed for.
Today is the day when, finally, my son doesn’t need me around any more.
I don’t sleep, of course. Tossing and turning all through the night, I come up with scenarios I’ve read about, stories I’ve heard at the surgery.
All those times the medics believed a child was out of danger and then bam. Inquiries, investigations, excuses follow. What comes after doesn’t really matter any more, because the child is gone, leaving behind a maelstrom of emotions that the family will never recover from.
Twice I get up and get dresse
d. I go downstairs and look at the car keys. I stare out of the front-room window, at the dull sodium-orange street lamp that reflects up from the bottom of the driveway like a muted stage light. Both times, Ben’s voice, in that determined tone, echoes in my ears: Amber and I are coping just fine. It cuts deep but I can’t stop playing it on a loop in my head.
I lie on my back in bed and stare up through the darkness. The heat begins to churn in my solar plexus, writhing like a knot of vipers awaking from slumber. I can’t see the ceiling or the walls but I know they’re there, containing me, restricting me. Henry snores softly beside me and I listen to the backdrop of my own breath; a faint rasp, shallow and irregular.
As sleep tries yet again to claim me, David’s face floats in front of mine. Forever young and vibrant. To me, he is alive, preserved in that place and time. He can’t grow older and cast that vulnerable boy aside.
Nobody can ever take him away from me now.
51
Judi
I snap awake before it’s even light outside.
I reach across and press my phone screen, snatching it up when I see there’s a text from Ben, sent at one-thirty this morning.
Hi Mum, we’re home. Noah is OK, will ring later. x
A quick check of the clock tells me it’s five-thirty now, and that’s far too early to call Ben, but I can’t just sit here for hours wondering how Noah is. I just can’t.
I silently slip out of bed. The sheets are damp to the touch thanks to my tormented night. God knows how long this stage in my life is going to last. It didn’t count as a really bad episode on my personal hot-flush scale, though it was certainly bad enough to warrant changing the sheets. But I can’t do that now and risk waking Henry. The last thing I want is another lecture, telling me how everyone is saying there’s something wrong with me and I need to go see Dr Fern.