by Vivien Brown
But maybe she was just trying to justify herself, make herself feel better about what she had done. What they had done. If she had been the one he’d abandoned, how would she have reacted? How would she have felt? It wasn’t surprising that Ruby had taken things so badly and decided to make things difficult.
If this had been a work problem she would have taken charge, negotiated, done a deal, made concessions if necessary, to get what she wanted. It was one of her main strengths, what she was good at, but this was different. This wasn’t business, this was real life, Michael’s life, and although she was a major part of it now, what to do next was his decision to make, not hers. But there was so much emotion involved, and that brought her back again to the knowledge that Michael was just not good at talking about the emotional stuff. That had been all too clear last night with his ‘go to sleep’ stance as soon as Ruby’s name, and those intimate questions about their life together, had come up.
‘Morning.’
She looked up as Michael’s head appeared around the kitchen door, his hair all messed up from sleep, little dots of stubble all over his chin, the rest of him naked but for a towel, far too small, that was just about wrapped around his waist and gaped open at the side. Oh, he was gorgeous. She’d pull that towel away and press him up against Geraldine’s fridge door right now if she had her way, even though the collection of tastefully arranged fridge magnets might just find themselves stuck somewhere they were not meant to go. But he had his serious face on, and it was pretty clear he wasn’t in the mood for any more passion at the moment.
‘I didn’t hear you get up,’ he said, looking around for his mother and realising she wasn’t there. ‘I’m just going to have a quick shower and a shave, and then I’ll ring Ruby again. I’ve tried twice already, but it’s engaged. God knows who she’s talking to. And no luck with her mobile either. As usual. I just hope it’s not one of her stalling tactics. She can’t put this off any longer. We should drive up there today, see Lily and get her down here for a few days. She’ll love a little holiday at Granny’s, and a chance to play on the beach. If Ruby’s even packed her stuff yet, that is. I told her what I wanted to do when I wrote, laid everything out as clearly and as fairly as I could, but I don’t suppose she’ll make things easy. Sorry, Pats, here I am rambling on. You didn’t have any other plans for today, did you?’
Patsy sighed inwardly. ‘No, no plans. Nothing that can’t wait.’
‘Good. We’ll take it slowly then, give Ruby another call, leave mid-morning, whether she answers or not, and maybe get a spot of lunch on the way. It looks like quite a nice day, for a change. Rain’s stopped.’
‘Yes, okay. Fine. But, Michael … driving there could be a problem. Your mum’s gone to work, and she’s taken the car.’
‘Right. I hadn’t thought about that. Train then. Or I might give Mum a call and see if she wants to shut up shop and come with us. I know she’ll see Lily when we bring her back later, but she might enjoy coming with us, and some time away from work will do her good. She seems a bit stressed, don’t you think? Not quite her usual chirpy self.’
Chirpy? Patsy couldn’t imagine Geraldine ever being chirpy. If she had to use any birdlike adjective, she’d probably have gone for beaky, or crowing, or even vulturine, if there was such a word.
‘It’ll give you two a chance to chat in the car too, get to know each other a bit better.’
‘Oh. Right. You don’t think it might look a bit like we’ve turned up mob-handed? Three of us? We don’t want to antagonise Ruby, do we? And, in her eyes, I must be public enemy number one.’
‘Hmmm. Maybe. Although you’re not, of course. What do you suggest?’
‘Leave me here. I don’t mind, really. Or drop me off somewhere in London. Oxford Street. Westfield. I don’t know. Somewhere I can just wander the shops for a while. I really think it would be better if it was just you today. And your mum too, of course, if she fancies going. We can hook up again later, after you’re done. Have dinner together somewhere. McDonalds, if you like. That’s what toddlers usually like to eat, isn’t it?’
‘You could be right, I suppose.’ He came across the room and took her hand in his, bending to kiss it. ‘I may love you to bits but you’re still a stranger as far as Lily’s concerned. It might be a good idea for you two to meet properly on neutral territory, well away from Ruby and her catty remarks. And a Happy Meal could just help to break the ice. Depending on what toy is on offer, of course! Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up and I’ll call Mum, see what she thinks.’
Oh, I know exactly what she’ll think, and what she’ll say, Patsy thought as she found herself alone again, sunlight pouring in through the window and making patterns of light on the glistening worktop in front of her. She won’t want me to be there, any more than I do. She’ll shut the shop or ask that assistant of hers to take over for the day, and she’ll agree that I should go off somewhere by myself, and she’ll be at Michael’s side, car keys in hand, like a shot.
For once, she and Geraldine would be in complete agreement. This was about family, and for now at least Patsy did not feel a part of it at all.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lily woke up to the feel of a warm body pressed against hers, the softness of hair against her cheek. She was in Mummy’s big bed. It felt warm and safe in Mummy’s bed. The body next to her stirred and stretched, and Lily opened her eyes. An arm unfurled and gently touched her face. But it wasn’t Mummy. It was a cat, the lovely big furry cat that lived downstairs.
‘Hello, Catty.’ Lily stroked his fur, and the cat rolled over onto his back and purred loudly in her ear. She wasn’t frightened of cats. Not like dogs. Dogs could bite you and growl at you, and that’s why Mummy never let her touch them in the park, just in case one wasn’t friendly. Cats don’t do those things. Or she hoped they didn’t.
‘This isn’t your house, Catty. Are you lost?’ It felt good to have someone to talk to again. It felt like she’d been a very long time on her own. Months, or maybe years. ‘I think my mummy’s lost too. But we can look after each other now, can’t we?’
She sat up in the big bed and reached out instinctively for Archie. She couldn’t see him at first. Then she spotted him, lying on the floor, where he must have fallen during the night. But the cat was lying across her lap now, paws outstretched, wanting her to tickle his tummy, and she couldn’t reach over the side without disturbing him, so she left Archie where he was. Archie didn’t move. He never did. Not by himself. He didn’t say anything either. Archie was pretend; just a toy. The cat was real. Warm and noisy, and comfortingly real. And, although she was feeling hungry again now, and she really, really, really needed a drink, she stayed exactly where she was, with the cat, all cuddled up together, his loud purring filling the room, the crumpled picture of Daddy beside her on the pillow, and started to feel just a little bit less alone.
*
The journey had been easy. The car, with its battery back in place, had started first time, the traffic had been light and William had been able to park right outside the house, but he realised now he was here that he’d completely forgotten to stop off for the freesias. Not that she seemed in the mood to care much about flowers. Agnes was frantically pacing the carpet, back and forth, back and forth, enough to wear a hole in it, all thoughts of arthritic knees forgotten, looking distractedly right through him towards the street outside the window and asking him absolutely nothing, about himself, or the drive, or the weather. Not even a ‘How are you?’ It wasn’t like her at all.
She was wearing an odd mishmash of things. A brown tweedy skirt with part of the hem coming undone, a pink blouse, a green cardigan with the buttons done up wrong. She’d dropped her coat and some sort of blanket thing on the back of her armchair but still had her ankle boots on, and a beige headscarf with pictures of horses all over it on her head, tied too loosely and slipping off to one side, revealing a tangle of grey, uncombed hair.
‘Right, Mother.’ He put his hands gently
on her shoulders and tried to guide her to the chair, untying the knot at her throat and removing the flapping scarf that looked so out of place indoors. She was obviously agitated, and nothing short of reuniting her with her missing cat as soon as humanly possible was going to make her happy. ‘Sit down, won’t you? Tell me all about it. When did you last see him?’
‘Last night, sometime in the evening.’ Stubbornly, she remained standing and started pacing again. ‘After nine, I think. He wanted to go out, so I let him.’
‘did he seem okay? Not sick, not off his food, or limping, or anything to indicate something was wrong?’
‘William, you’re sounding like someone off one of those detective programmes. Barnaby, or Morse. There’s no need to interrogate me, you know. I’m not a suspect. If anything, I feel more like a victim. You’ll be getting a notebook out next! But, no, everything seemed perfectly normal. Nothing wrong with him at all. He often goes out for a last stroll before bed, but he always comes straight back.’
‘Sorry. Look, sit down, take the weight off your feet, please. You’re making me feel all on edge. Let me get you some tea. Lots of sugar. Good for the shock.’
‘That’s all very well, I’m sure, but sugar is not what I need right now. He’s old, he’s been gone all night, and I need to be out there looking for him. I need to feel I’m doing something useful, not just sitting around like a spare part and, believe me, William, tea is not the answer.’
His mother might not want to sit, but he certainly did. He sank into a chair, feeling quite exhausted just from watching her, the tension in the room almost palpable. ‘Right! Down to business, then. Have you asked the neighbours yet? The other residents here in the house?’
‘No. I haven’t seen them. I rarely do. And why would they know anything? I let Smudge out onto the pavement, through the front door. And it’s a dangerous place out there, what with all the traffic …’
‘Yes, but he’s a wise old cat, and you’ve already looked out there, so we’re going to assume he has not come to a sticky end squashed under the wheels of a bus, okay?’ He saw her wince and realised he may have been a tad too insensitive, graphic even. ‘So, the house neighbours first. Any one of them could have seen him, passed him on their way in or out, maybe even opened the front door and let him back into the building. Then we’ll try some of the other houses down the street.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘But first, you’re having tea. We both are. I insist. I bet you’ve not even had any breakfast, have you?’
He went through to the kitchen and filled the kettle, leaning against the table as he waited for it to boil. The room was small and cluttered, with too many plants on the windowsill and not enough room in the cupboards. He pulled out the jar of teabags and chose two cups from the many lined up in rows.
There was a thin grey cobweb trailing across the ceiling and dangling down from the corner above the cupboard. He reached up and grabbed the end of it and watched it disintegrate into a mini dust cloud. The place could do with a spring clean. Could you call it spring cleaning when it was autumn? He forgot sometimes that she was old, that reaching ceilings and keeping everything going by herself was probably getting a bit too much for her. Should he find her a cleaning lady, or a home help of some sort? The place could do with a lick of paint too. He could offer to take care of that for her, now that he had more time on his hands. The once lemon-coloured walls were showing signs of fading into a nondescript shade of murky cream, and there was a funny shaped brown stain on the ceiling that he did not remember seeing before.
‘Mother?’ he called to her as he poured the boiling water into the cups. ‘How long has that stain been up there?’ He pulled a kitchen chair over and stood on it, not 100 per cent sure it would take his weight, and pressed a finger against the mark. ‘It’s wet! I think you have water coming through here. What’s up above you?’
‘What are you talking about? What stain?’ Agnes stood in the archway that separated her small hall from the kitchen and followed his gaze. ‘Oh, well now, where did that come from? I’m sure I have no idea.’
‘It’s soaking wet up here. There has to be something leaking from upstairs.’
‘I think the flats are all arranged the same way, so it must be from their kitchen. The young couple, with the little girl. Oh Lord, that’s all I need right now.’ Slowly she sank into the chair that William had just stepped off, and let out an enormous sigh. ‘Please, William, forget the stain. Forget the tea. I just want to get on and find Smudge. Everything else can wait, surely?’
‘We were going to start with the neighbours anyway, so let’s go there first, to the flat above you, shall we? We can ask about the cat and the leak at the same time. See what they have to say for themselves. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Come on, then. What are you waiting for? No time like the present. Coat back on, Mother, and don’t forget your key.’
*
The post dropped onto the mat with a loud thud just as Geraldine’s car pulled back onto the drive. Patsy could see her, and hear her, through the big glass panel in the front door, making some remark about the weather to the postman and him mumbling a reply as they passed each other briefly on the path. As Patsy bent to pick up the bundle of letters, Geraldine’s key turned in the lock and the door swung open, almost having her fingers off.
‘Sorry. Didn’t see you there,’ Geraldine said, which seemed unlikely considering the size of the glass. She was wearing a pair of jeans, just a little too tight around the bottom but immaculately tailored, with an ironed crease down the front, and a loose silver-coloured blouse that swung around her hips as she breezed past, taking the letters from Patsy’s hand and carrying them into the kitchen, pulling the rubber band off them as she went.
‘Mum.’ Michael greeted her, pouring water from the kettle onto a waiting teabag in Geraldine’s favourite cup. ‘I’m so glad you’re coming too. I could do with the moral support, and I know how much Lily will love seeing you. Let’s have a quick cuppa and we’ll be off, shall we? Traffic should be good this time of the morning. I’ll drive if you like. I assume I’m still on the insurance policy? Oh, and Patsy won’t be coming this time. I thought … well, we thought, that it might not go down too well with Ruby, so we’ll drop her off somewhere on the way and meet up again later, okay?’
‘Michael, do let me catch my breath for a moment. I’m only just in the door and you’ve not let me get a word in yet.’
‘Sorry. I’m just excited, that’s all. I haven’t seen Lily for so long, and I can’t wait.’
‘I know, I know, but let me just open the post and drink my tea first, all right?’ She put her handbag down on the table and took a seat next to it. ‘And get me a biscuit, would you, dear? I haven’t had a moment to myself since I opened up the shop this morning.’ She fanned at herself with one of the envelopes, flicking a cool gust of air across her face. ‘Oh, I do hope Kerry will manage by herself.’
‘She’ll be fine. You shouldn’t worry so much. What’s the worst that can happen? She’s only got to sit and serve. It’s not as if you’re letting her loose on the accounts or sending her to the wholesalers …’
Geraldine didn’t look convinced, but she nodded slowly, blew on her tea and sunk her teeth into a garibaldi as she flicked through her mail. ‘Bills, bills and more bills,’ she muttered, sending a tiny spray of crumbs out as she spoke, casting each letter aside, unopened, as soon as she’d identified its sender. ‘Oh, and there’s one for you here.’ She turned it over and back again, looked at the childish handwriting on the front and the crooked strip of sellotape that held it closed at the back, then handed it across the table to her son. ‘Posted on Saturday. It has the look of your Ruby about it, if I’m not very much mistaken.’
Patsy flinched at the use of that phrase ‘your Ruby’. A slip of the tongue, or another sign of Geraldine’s usual thoughtless brand of insensitivity? She couldn’t help but wonder if Geraldine did it deliberately, acting as if Patsy didn�
��t exist, just to stir things a bit and wind her up. She stood back, in the doorway, not feeling a part of their little family tableau, and watched as Michael took the envelope and stared at it. The little muscle in the side of his face had started to twitch the way it did when he was anxious, or angry. It wasn’t always easy to tell the two apart with Michael. Either way, he went remarkably quiet.
‘Well, aren’t you going to open it?’ Geraldine sipped loudly at her tea, dunked her biscuit in it until it all but fell apart, and waited.
Patsy watched Michael’s chest rise and fall as he took in a deep breath and slowly let it out again, then he slipped his thumb under the end of the tape and prised the thing open, drawing out the single sheet of paper and reading through it, rapidly, silently, in his head.
‘Right!’ He slammed his fist down on the table, dropping the letter and making the teaspoon jump in his mother’s saucer. ‘It looks like war has been declared. If that’s how she wants to play it, so be it. Two can play at that game. Come on, Mum, get that tea down you, and we’ll be off.’
‘But I haven’t even changed yet.’
‘You’re fine as you are. It’s not a bloody fashion parade. Come on, hurry up. The nerve of the girl! No, I’m not having this. Ruby making all the decisions. What makes her think she can call the shots? Lily’s my daughter just as much as hers, and I’m going to see her today no matter what Ruby says. Sorry, Pats, but we don’t have time to mess about. Would you mind if we leave you here today? I’m not in the mood for detouring to some shopping precinct. There are places here in Brighton if you want to buy stuff, or you could just have a quiet day on the beach? You don’t mind, do you? Here, take my key so you can get back in. I’ll call you later, let you know how things go. That all right with you?’