The Stepmother

by Carrie Adams

  I stuck to my resolve until teatime. But the fear of fish fingers and peas overwhelmed me. My stomach juices growled inside their tripy cage; I needed to tame them. One shot of vodka is only ninety calories, which is quite a lot. I could have two apples for that, but vodka’s appetite-suppressing qualities are equal to none. It was just one, after all. I wouldn’t have any wine later. Enough to kill the beast. Or quiet it until the plates were empty and the leftovers had been masticated by the metal teeth of the waste-disposal unit. I didn’t trust myself to scrape them into the bin anymore. I had discovered that that was not enough to stop me returning to them later and stuffing them into my mouth when no one was looking. Strange that when I was standing up and eating alone, I could convince myself that the calories didn’t count. “Waste not, want not,” my mother used to say. Her steely words had the opposite effect on me. Waste not, want even more. Amber was right. I had eaten off the floor. Cramming crumbs into my mouth. Always, always trying to fill the hole.

  I WAS CLEANING THE OVEN when the phone rang. I peeled off my gloves and answered it.

  “Mrs. Kent, so sorry to bother you, it’s Mrs. Hitchens.”

  The ballet teacher? “Hello, how’s exhibition day going?”

  “Good, thank you, so far, except Lulu doesn’t seem to have her kit here.”

  “She’s like her father. It’s on her peg.”

  “Well, actually we sent them home with their uniforms on Friday and—”

  So, perfect Tessa King wasn’t so perfect, after all. “I know what’s happened. She was at her father’s this weekend. Let me see what I can do.”

  “Can I tell her it will be here by this afternoon? I’m afraid there have been some tears.”

  Well, life’s tough, honey, get used to it.

  “Of course.”

  “That’s wonderful, Mrs. Kent, thank you. Lulu has worked so hard on this performance.” Good grief, it was a nine-year-olds’ ballet class, not fucking Covent Garden. By the way, that’s the “First Mrs. Kent” to you. Didn’t you know. There’s a second coming. “Let me see what I can do,” I said gaily.

  “Thank you so much. I’m sure Lulu will appreciate it.”

  Well, I haven’t been thanked for the thirty-two hundred and eighty-seven times they’ve gone to school with clean ballet clothes before but, sure as eggs is eggs, she’ll remember this one life-shattering moment and dangle it in front of me accusingly every time something goes wrong in her world. Poor Lulu, she had a terrible mother, you know.

  Well, damn it, I wasn’t taking the rap alone. I hung up and called Jimmy. He was at work, but I caught him just before he went into a meeting. He promised he’d go home, get the kit, and drop it off at the school by two-thirty. I thanked him profusely and ignored the strong sensation that I knew it was never going to happen. I finished the housework and then went to the supermarket. I told myself I may as well stop at the bottle bank. I could have waited for the recycling collection, but since I was going. I averted my eyes until each bottle had shattered inside the giant urn and the boxes were empty. The phone was ringing as I carried through the last of the shopping bags.

  “It’s not here,” said Jimmy.

  “It must be,” I said, placing the bags on the sideboard.

  “Bea, it isn’t. I’ve looked everywhere.”

  Through a locked jaw, I said, “With all due respect, you’re not really very good at—”

  “Bea, I’m telling you, it isn’t here!”

  “Please don’t get cross with me. Your daughter didn’t call you up in floods of tears. You haven’t had the teacher on the phone. They sent her home with it on Friday to be washed.”

  “Then Tessa would have washed it, ironed it, and sent it back with the other stuff.”

  “Well, she didn’t, because I unpacked everything that night. Sorry, Jimmy, it’s still with you.”

  “It’s not her fault, Bea. It’s mine. I’m hopeless at keeping up with the girls’ things. I’m sorry, it’s just not one of—”

  “Your fortes?” I said, forcing a laugh. “Jimmy, I think I know that by now.” But if your little au pair isn’t up to it, then someone has to take charge. “You’ll have to call Tessa and ask her what she’s done with it.”

  “Isn’t there another way we—”

  “If there was I wouldn’t have called you. Please, it’s so important to Lulu. I’ll wait on the line.”

  “She has this huge meeting today.”

  Bully for her, Miss Big Potatoes…“Lulu’s been practicing for weeks and you know how she needs all the confidence she can get at the moment.”

  I heard him swear under his breath. “You’re right, of course. Hang on…Tessa King, please…Yes, I know she’s in a meeting, but this is important. It’s her fiancé…” I winced. “Yes, hi—James, that’s right, yup, thank you so much…I know how important it is, but it’s an emergency.” James, was he?

  I waited in silence as he waited in silence. Another, less acerbic, thought drifted through the bile…This is a really bad idea, my friend, a really, really bad call. Get that person back. Don’t interrupt her if it really is important. You know what you should have done? Got your arse to a shop, thrown money at the problem like you do for yourself, bought Lulu new everything, sewn the elastic on yourself, however halfhearted, and delivered it all to school by two-thirty. But you didn’t even think of it, did you? And now…

  “Hi, Tessa.”

  Here we go.

  “So sorry to get you out of your…Yes, everyone’s fine…No, not your mum, God, no.” I confess I felt a bit bad at this point. What was wrong with Tessa’s mother? “It’s just, well, it’s Lulu’s exhibition performance at school…Yes, ballet…I know, but she’s very upset…In tears…I’m sorry you feel…I think you’re being a little unreasonable…No, I can’t just go and buy new…” ’Least she was thinking. “Well, this should be important to you…Tessa, just tell me where the fucking ballet kit is…” Oops. “Tessa? Tessa?”

  “What?” I asked. There was no reply. “What? Jimmy, where is it?”

  I heard him bring the house receiver up to his ear. “She put the phone down.”

  I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh. “Did you explain it was for our daughter?”

  Jimmy sighed heavily. “Yes.”

  “Lulu will be devastated,” I said, tweaking the blade.

  “I’m so sorry, Bea.”

  I had no choice but to fall on my sword. “I’ll ring around the mothers, see what I can put together.”

  “You’re a godsend. Thank you. Please apologize to Lulu for me.”

  “You can do that yourself.”

  “I will, I will, of course I will.”

  “I’ll call you back to let you know it’s all sorted.”

  “Thank you,” said Jimmy. “And, Bea, I’m so sorry. I know you do so much already…” I put down the receiver.

  It was about then that I remembered Amber’s old ballet things were kept upstairs, waiting for her siblings to grow into it. I went upstairs to her room. In the top cupboard there were boxes labeled with all sorts of clothes waiting to be handed down. There was a jumper box, trousers, summer stuff, swimwear, sports, and, of course, in such a female household, a huge ballet box. Everything was in age order. It was all clean, and neatly folded. I pulled out the pile marked AGED 10. It might be a fraction too big, but it would do. I got into the car and drove to the school. I handed over the already named uniform to Lulu and was rewarded with her huge hug, and grateful smiles from the teachers. They understood how hard it was to oversee three children, and one big one who caused more havoc than all the rest. I waved a hand, casual, in control. The cross we bear.

  “You’re brilliant,” said Mrs. Hitchens. “We’re not really allowed, but would you like to stay and watch?” Nothing would be nicer, I thought. When Lulu saw me, her face made me fill up. She is totally crap at ballet, but her enthusiasm wins everyone over. I clapped hard when she had finished, and took her smile with me when I left.

&
nbsp; Jimmy had left three anxious messages. I decided to call him later.

  I got into the car and drove home, humming to the radio. I went up to Amber’s room and replaced all the boxes in the order I’d found them. Closing the cupboard on the hand-me-downs, I wondered, still smiling to myself, why on earth I hadn’t thought of them before.

  Ten

  Movie Night

  THE FOLLOWING WEDNESDAY EVENING, THE BELL RANG. THEY WERE LATE. And Amber, as usual, would rather get me up to open the door than bother to look for her keys. But they were here. And that was good. I pulled at my new dress and adjusted the neckline in the hall mirror. With a quick smack of the lips, I opened the door.

  “Honor!” I exclaimed. “Er…What—”

  “Hello, Bea. Jimmy asked me to collect the girls.”

  “Oh?” I peered into the street. “He’s not with you?”

  “No.”

  “Hi, girls,” I said.

  “Hi, Mum,” they chorused, and pushed past me.

  “Sorry I’m a bit late. We’ve been at the Science Museum.”

  “I wish Jimmy would tell me when he changes plans like this.”

  “Sorry. They’re all fed and watered, though.” She turned to go.

  “It’s not your fault. Please come in. I haven’t seen you since Luke’s party. It would be nice to catch up.”

  “I’d love to.” Honor came into my small house, closed the door, and threw her coat over the banister. “You look great, Bea. How much have you lost?”

  “I don’t know. A bit.”

  “Bea?”

  I couldn’t suppress a victorious smile. “Um, nearly fourteen pounds.”

  “That’s unbelievable. So quickly?”

  I laughed nervously. “Doesn’t feel quick. I’m told by my guide at Weight Watchers that the beginning is the easiest bit. I can’t believe that’s true. It’s been bloody hard. But the scales are moving in the right direction, which is an incentive to continue.”

  “So you’re doing Weight Watchers?”

  I escorted my former mother-in-law to the kitchen. “I couldn’t do it on my own. It’s all very controlled. I need that. Too many temptations in this house, too many chances to cheat, what with the biscuits and the children’s supper. Fish fingers are my downfall.” I laughed. “This way I have to stick to certain amounts of points a day, but if I accidentally inhale one of those evil orange rectangles, I can deduct the points and it doesn’t send me racing for the cheddar with the excuse that all is lost. Veggies are free, so I’m perpetually munching a carrot or something.” My God, it almost sounded healthy.

  “Well, congratulations, Bea. I’m very impressed.”

  Don’t be. I’m lying through my black-coffee-stained teeth. “I was going to wait until the girls were in bed before I have my two-point glass of wine, but since you’re here, would you care to join me?”

  “Love to. Your girls are delightful, but exhausting. Just one. I’m driving.”

  “That’s all I’m allowed,” I said, smiling broadly. Maybe I do know where Amber gets her acting skills from.

  “Lovely. Thanks.”

  “So what happened to Jimmy this time? Some big deal about to go through?” I asked knowingly.

  “Oh, this was more of a personal nature,” said Honor.

  “Really.”

  “Some tiff, apparently. They’ve gone away.”

  All right for some, I thought, and wondered who was paying. “A tiff?”

  “Something about a missing ballet kit. The poor girl might be finding the prospect of becoming a stepmother harder than she expected. Have you met her yet?”

  “Seen her through a car door, but I’m not sure that counts. I don’t think Jimmy’s quite ready for the full ménage à trois. We might start comparing notes.”

  Honor laughed. I laughed with her. Ha. Ha. Ha.

  “She seems a very nice girl, actually. Lulu and Maddy are clearly besotted, but Amber might be giving her a run for her money.”

  “Besotted. Yes. Lovely. I thought Amber liked her too. She’s always playing that Dumbbell record. I think Tessa works with them or something.” Obviously by now I knew exactly what Tessa did, and had Googled her several times, but I had to feign total disinterest or Honor would clam up. And with my children failing to keep me abreast of the gossip, I needed her on-side. No one could suspect a thing.

  “A useful perk,” said Honor.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “I think Tessa might have slightly overdone that one, though.”

  “Really?” I said again.

  “Well, Amber did mention feeling as if she was being bought off.”

  That’s my girl. “I almost feel sorry for Tessa,” I said, completely falsely.

  “Well, she’s quite a piece of work, that one.”

  I decided to assume Honor meant Tessa, though I knew she didn’t. I poured two glasses of wine.

  “And that’s only two points?” asked Honor.

  I winked at her. “Well, I may cheat a wee bit on that.”

  “Don’t blame you.” She raised her glass. “To you. I’m very impressed. As always.” I remembered just in time not to drink as if I were alone, and sat down.

  Honor and I sipped our wine and had a nice, normal conversation while my children got ready for bed. What I really wanted to do was talk about the wedding plans. I had managed to play it cool for a while, but even I couldn’t hold out forever. “The girls are very excited about being bridesmaids. The promise of a new dress is the way to any girl’s heart.”

  “It’s not just them. Tessa has a lot of godchildren and wants them all to be involved. One of them already knows the girls. They’ve played a lot over the year. Funny name. Corky or something. Same age as Maddy, I think. So it’ll be those three definitely. Then there are two little boys, very sweet, who’ll toddle up behind. And a bigger boy who’s going to be an usher.”

  “Luke going to be best man again?” I asked wryly.

  “Oh, no,” said Honor. “That’s the best bit of their plan, I think.”

  “What?”

  “Jimmy asked Amber to be his best girl.”

  “Bet Tessa loved that.” I tried to sound lighthearted to hide my shock. How much was my darling daughter keeping from me?

  “Jimmy told me it was Tessa’s idea—she did it once, apparently. Don’t tell Amber, we’re not supposed to know. Tessa is refusing to take the credit. Nice girl. Sorry, is talking about the wedding plans getting a bit too much?”

  I shook my head and fixed the smile back onto my face. It was beyond too much. It was just the excuse I needed. I took a large swig of wine. I’ll give you nice girl.

  “Amber’s been chatting about it all afternoon. She’s so excited about it. Her idea is not to do a speech about Jimmy but to rewrite the words of ‘Can’t Help Lovin’ Dat Man’…Loving that Dad of mine…Sweet, isn’t it? She’ll bring the house down, as usual.”

  “Singing it, gosh.” No, no, no. This I couldn’t bear.

  “Well, they’ve booked the band—you know them, they did Luke’s fortieth. Amber’s already been on to them about rehearsal time. She’s incredibly tenacious when she wants something. It’s impressive for someone her age. She has real ambition. Most teenagers I know are sloths.”

  “They’ve booked the band?”

  Honor nodded.

  “So they have a date already?” Could this get any worse?

  Honor held up her hands. “I’m so sorry, Bea, I assumed you knew.”

  I brushed away her concern. Bluff now, fall to pieces later. “Jimmy can’t remember to tell me when he isn’t picking up his children, I don’t know why I’m still surprised. So, when’s it going to be?”

  “June the twenty-first. Midsummer night.”

  “No guessing who plays Bottom.”

  Honor studied me.

  “I’m kidding—so, a big summer wedding, then?”

  “About a hundred and twenty, I think. Tessa has a small family but a ridiculous numb
er of friends to make up for it. We’re going to Oxford for lunch to meet her parents, see the house and the lie of the land. Tessa wants to tent over an orchard.”

  “Sounds very grand.” Damn, was my glass nearly empty already?

  “Not that grand. Dwarf pear trees. It’ll be rather beautiful dining among trees, under a twinkly-light canopy, fairy lights up the tree trunks.”

  Sounded beautiful. “Sounds expensive,” I said.

  “Well, Mr. and Mrs. King only have one daughter so I imagine a little pot was put aside. They’ve been waiting long enough. Actually, I get the feeling that Tessa thinks it’s a bit quick, but Jimmy’s determined and, well, she isn’t getting any younger.”

  From what I’d glimpsed, she looked like a child to me. Childbearing, certainly. The hole opened again. I swallowed the last slug of wine to close it. “A hundred and twenty guests,” I said. “That’s”—the same as we had—“quite a statement, isn’t it, for a second marriage? I mean, don’t you sort of slip it under the radar for appearances’ sake?”

  “It’s not her second marriage.”