by Carrie Adams
Linda leaned forward, plopped two fat saccharine tablets into the tar, and stirred it with her pen. “Look, you got yourself into this situation, you solve it. I need an answer by four.” She pressed a button and flicked back the microphone, like an airline pilot. “Fucking Americans,” she said. “What can I do for you, my precious? Need a good lawyer yet?”
“Ha-ha.”
“You will.”
“No, actually, I need a favor.”
“Christ, I hate those. I don’t have any sway with that boarding school anymore, if that’s it.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Trust me, you’ll come around to the boarding-school idea. So what have you gone and promised the little brat this time?”
“Nothing. I want it to be a surprise. Are we still keeping the studio free next week for the Belles to sort out their differences?”
“Yeah. But I’m expecting them back sooner rather than later,” said Linda, with a glint in her eye.
“Do you think I could take Amber down there? I’ve got the girls for a weekend on my own—”
“Christ!”
“James is going to L.A. for a work junket, and it’s the perfect opportunity for me to earn Amber’s trust—”
“Buy her trust, you mean.”
“No, earn it. I’m looking for an honorable draw, not an underhanded victory.”
“Fool. Look, I’d help you if I could but it’s a closed set, sweetie. You know perfectly well they can’t sing.”
“Oh, I don’t want them to be there. I want Amber to sing.”
“I’m not fucking reading you.”
“Amber has written this song for her father and I’d like to record it for a wedding present from the girls to their dad.”
“Still getting married, then?”
I didn’t answer.
“You’re not going to try and get me to sign her, are you?”
“No way. I’m trying to kill the beast, not create another.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Can I? We’ll be paying for the day anyway.”
“If it’s okay with Ca—”
“He said if it’s okay with you, then fine.”
“Well, fine, then. But just for the record, I think you’re fucking nuts.”
I laughed and walked to the door. She dismissed me with a wave and picked up the phone, ready to break someone else.
THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, JAMES AND his brother went to play in a charity football match. Faith called me up and asked me to have lunch with her, since Charlie was spending the day with his cousins. I nearly refused, having envisaged a hot bath and a good couple of hours with my foot-scraper, but now I was becoming part of a family, foot fetishes had to be put aside for the greater good. My instinct had been to like Faith, but I knew she and Bea were close, so it was with apprehension that I walked into the pub on Hammersmith Grove.
Faith was at a table, reading.
“Lucy is coming to join us. I hope you don’t mind.” Faith folded the paper.
I immediately relaxed. I liked Lucy a lot. She was one of the few in James’s family who didn’t seem wedded to Bea. “Not at all,” I said.
“I hear you’re having the girls to stay while Jimmy’s away.”
“You think I’m mad?”
“Brave,” she replied.
“Hi!” said a voice behind me. It was Lucy. She leaned over and gave me a kiss. I appreciated the familiarity.
“When did Jimmy last play football? Is he going to have a heart attack?”
“He’s pretty fit,” I said.
“We’ve heard,” said Lucy, cackling.
“Ignore her,” said Faith.
I shifted my chair to make room for Lucy. These two women were to become my sisters-in-law. I’d never had sisters before. I was suddenly quite moved. I wanted to like them. I really wanted them to like me.
The waiter came over and asked for our orders. Faith, who knew the place well, went for a Cobb salad. Lucy and I copied her.
“Chips with that, ladies?”
I nodded and shrugged simultaneously.
“Just to soak up the wine,” said Faith. “Bottle of house white, please.”
“And a jug of tap water,” said Lucy. She leaned forward on her elbows. “So, how’s everything with Amber? Given you an apple-pie bed yet? Spat in your coffee?”
“Probably.”
“Come on, Lucy, she’s not that bad,” said Faith, tearing into a baguette.
“I adore her, just wouldn’t necessarily want to become her stepmother. She’s always had Jimmy wrapped around her little finger.”
Faith looked at me. “You’re no worse off with Amber than my other friends who’ve become stepparents. Everyone finds it hard.”
“Yeah, but Amber’s had sole charge of Jimmy for the last four years and the first four he had sole charge of her. This is more than your average father-daughter thing. It drives Bea mad—”
“Lucy.”
“What?”
A small, uncomfortable silence followed.
I broke it. “James told me how he worked around Amber when she was a baby. It’s very sweet.”
The waiter arrived with our drinks, and Faith and Lucy busied themselves pouring out wine and water, an operation they seemed more intent on than the job required.
“What did I say? You don’t think it was sweet?”
Faith couldn’t quite look me in the eye. “He didn’t really work around her…” Her voice trailed off.
I frowned. “You mean Amber was dragged from pillar to post?”
“Oh, no, he was very disciplined about her routine, obsessively so, almost. No, he just didn’t work.”
“That’s not true Faith. He always had things in—”
“Development,” interrupted Faith. “Come on! That’s what drove Bea mad.” She looked compromised. Again. “Obviously he got a job eventually. When Maddy was born.”
“Only because his snob of a mother-in-law shamed him into it. Poor Jimmy, it sucked out his soul. Something Bea never understood.”
“She’d carried that family for seven years, Lucy, had three kids. She was entitled to a break. If Jimmy had got off his arse sooner, she wouldn’t have been too shattered to take the Financial Times job.”
“She didn’t want it. She wanted to play house.”
“Lucy, you’re so sure about what you do that you don’t understand some people oscillate between choices. I know I do. When work’s slow I feel really guilty about not being at home with Charlie, and when it’s frantic and exciting I feel stretched and guilty about not staying late with the rest of the team. Can’t win. Bea wanted some time at home, but once you’re home it’s different. Bloody hard work for a start and no one says thank-you. I bet part of her misses the cut-and-thrust of the editorial room. She was brilliant at her job and now she spends her life cutting up carrot sticks.” Suddenly, Faith looked at me. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about this.”
Are you kidding? I was on the edge of my seat. I had momentarily forgotten we were talking about my Salt-and-pepper Man and his first wife. Instead we were talking about a couple called Jimmy and Bea, and, frankly, they sounded fascinating. I can happily sit in a pub with a friend and dissect the life of a person I’ve never met and be absolutely gripped. Not only gripped, but comment, too. We do it every day, Brad and Ange, Madge and Guy. I wanted more on Jimmy and Bea.
“The party was great,” said Faith, unsubtly changing the subject. “I thought what your dad said was so sweet. I can’t believe he delivered you. You’re obviously very close.”
“At least that makes it easier to understand Jimmy and Amber, I suppose,” said Lucy.
“It hasn’t,” I said honestly. “She was quite stroppy in the beginning, but now she just doesn’t seem herself.”
“I know what I said about her, but she’s all right. Puberty isn’t fun, is it?” Lucy grimaced.
“Do you think it’s that?” I asked.
�
�She’s fourteen—it must be,” said Lucy. “It’s not you. She loves her dad in a good way—she wants him to be happy. You make him happy. She’s a good kid, really.”
“They all are. Bea’s done a great job with them.”
“Faith! Jimmy’s done it too, you know, not just Bea.”
“With Amber, maybe, but the other two…He was completely absent. You’re like Amber, you’ve never been able to see his faults.”
“And you’re so discerning about Luke,” said Lucy, loaded with sarcasm. “He’s a lazy bastard. You do everything for him, then thank him for it. It’s crazy.”
Faith turned to me again. “Sorry. Families. You’re probably not used to this.”
I was saved from answering. “They’re a nightmare,” said Lucy.
“I suppose there are some advantages to being a one and only,” I laughed.
“We love each other, really,” she said.
“Of course you do. I didn’t mean—”
“Don’t be daft, I know you didn’t,” Lucy retorted.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” Faith was looking at me carefully.
“I don’t promise to answer it truthfully,” I replied. I was trying to be funny. I couldn’t work out whether this was going well or not. How personal was she going to get?
“Did you miss not having siblings?”
“Oh, so you don’t want to know how many people I’ve slept with?”
“Lots, I hope.”
I tapped my nose. She turned serious again. “It’s just Charlie…”
“No. I didn’t. Friends fill the space. Plus Charlie has something I never had. Cousins who adore him. The girls talk about him like he’s their brother.”
“That’s what Bea says.” I adopted my benign, we’re-talking-about-Bea-again silence and smiled. Faith stood up. “I need a pee.” She disappeared around the bar.
“That was nice of you,” said Lucy. “Faith tried so hard for a second. She likes to be reassured it was okay to give up. She had a horrible time. Both of them did.”
“Both of them?”
“Bea and Faith,” clarified Lucy. “That’s one of the reasons they’re so close.”
“Getting pregnant was a problem for Bea?” I was confused. Unless I was imagining things, I was looking at a trio of stepdaughters.
“For Faith it was. Bea’s problem was keeping them.”
“Between Amber and Lulu, you mean?”
Lucy scrunched up her face. “Poor thing had five miscarriages. Jimmy begged her to stop, Amber was enough, but she wanted a big family. Safety in numbers, I’ve always thought. Protect her from her mother…”
I swallowed some wine. I felt bad for Bea. I knew what a miscarriage looked like. I’d seen one. “Poor Bea.”
“Lulu was born at last and it was all worth it, and less than a year later out popped Maddy. God knows where she came from.”
I knew Lulu and Maddy were close in age. I’d done the math. Lulu would have been only a couple of weeks old when Maddy was conceived. Obviously, I found that hard to swallow since it meant James and Bea were back at it bloody quickly, which didn’t tally with my preconceived ideas about marriage failure, inhospitable deserts, and poor, neglected James. My mind had always got stuck on the image of a lithe, nubile, hormonally flushed Bea and proud-father James gleefully jumping back into bed without even waiting for the six-week checkup. I wasn’t thinking about the consequences. I was thinking about where I fitted in.
“I guess that would put a huge strain on any marriage.”
“A strain, maybe. Not an end.”
“Why did it end?” I asked. Lucy looked at me sharply. “Sorry,” I replied quickly, then thought better of it. “Bea did end it, though, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” said Lucy.
I saw Faith emerge from the side door marked TOILETS. It was now or never. “Do you think she’s ever regretted it?”
Lucy opened her mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again. “I don’t know.”
A waiter appeared at our table with a loaded tray.
“Great,” said Faith, coming up behind him. “I’m starving.”
“Another bottle?” said Lucy, looking away from me.
“Why not?” I said. The more we drank, the more I might glean, and maybe, somehow, in the absence of straight answers, I could fill in the blanks. But, after that, the conversation stayed off Jimmy and Bea. Purposely, I thought.
EARLY THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY MORNING I drove James to the airport. Of course I was nervous about a weekend alone with the girls, but I was excited too. Well, I was trying to be. Trouble was, James kept scattering seeds of doubt in my mind.
“Now, are you sure you don’t want me to call Bea and reorganize the weekend?” It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested it. “She won’t mind, you know.”
“I’m sure she could do with a few days off before the holidays start.”
“She won’t mind,” he said again.
“No. It’s all planned.”
“Well, I think you’re mad.”
“They’re your children.”
“Exactly,” he said, laughing.
“We’ll be fine. Anyway, I have a little something up my sleeve.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”
“Do we need Bea’s permission?” he asked. My anger spiked. “It’s not parachuting,” I said.
“My advice. Keep it as low-key as possible. Park, maybe, if it isn’t raining. Other than that, videos, puzzles, and drawing. Make it as easy as possible on yourself.”
I’d noticed that was his way of doing things. “What about cabin fever?” I asked. “They’ll get bored. So would I.”
He shook his head despairingly. “Ignore me at your peril but, whatever you do, don’t take them to a museum. They’re packed on weekends and it’s a nightmare. Or the aquarium or—”
“Anything fun. I’ve got it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s okay. We’ll play Guess Who? for forty-eight hours. It’ll be great.”
“I don’t play Guess Who? for hours.”
Yes, I’d noticed that too. “Stop fretting. We are going to have a fun girly weekend. Don’t you worry.”
“Nail polish isn’t allowed—”
I whacked him hard on the thigh.
“Ow.” He looked at me. “Do that again.”
“Pervert.”
“God, I don’t want to go,” he said, stroking my cheek. “I hate being away from you.”
I leaned into his hand, which was a bit dangerous, since I was driving, and kissed it. He groaned. “Come with me.”
“Then who’d look after your children?”
“Bea wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s about time we stopped asking Bea to pick up all the slack.”
James took his hand away.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s our exit,” he said, pointing.
“Oh.”
I signaled and pulled into the left-hand lane. “James, I wasn’t saying you’re slack, I was just saying—”
“I know. What do you want me to bring you from L.A.?”
A ring would be nice? “Um…Robert Downey Jr.—no, make that an Owen Wilson to go.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” said James.
We fell into silence. I negotiated my way off the motorway. A week holed up in L.A. at the infamous hotel Château Marmont didn’t sound that bad, actually. Things were always better between us when we were on our own. That was the easy part of being a couple. It was all the rest that made it difficult. I glanced across at him. But it was worth it. “All I really want is for you to come home safely.”
“I will,” said James.
“And no sampling the local wares.”
“Not my style.”
So you say, but how would I know? Stop it. Linda was polluting my mind. “James?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you and Bea split up
?”
“That’s a mighty curious question. Most people ask, ‘What terminal?’ at about this point.”
“What terminal?”
“Three.”
“Okay. Good. So, why did you and Bea split up?”
James frowned. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
“I want to make sure someone explained it to Amber.”
“She was ten, Tessa.”
“I know, but shouldn’t she—”
“The reasons are not important as long as the children know it wasn’t their fault.”
What scary book did you read that in? “How do they know that if you don’t give them a reason?”
James fussed with the volume button on the radio. Impatiently, I switched it off. “Please, James. I really want to know. Why?”
“What did Faith say to you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Nothing. This has nothing to do with Faith.”
“Well, something must have prompted this rubbernecking curiosity.”
I felt as if he’d slapped me. I wasn’t fishing for gossip here. I was agreeing to marry a man whose previous marriage had failed. Bea wasn’t some evil, neurotic cow. Everyone liked her. I couldn’t blame it all on her. Something had happened. Unless I understood, I would never know where I stood. With Amber. With any of them.
“Let’s not argue before I go away,” said James, putting his hand on my leg. Rather than soothing, it felt heavy. Guilty.
“We’re not arguing. I’m trying to ask you a question about something that affects our future. I don’t know why you can’t talk about this.”
“Divorce isn’t fun.”
“Of course it isn’t. I don’t dispute that. But I really think it might help things between Amber and me if I—”
“Things with Amber are fine.”
“James, they aren’t really. You must know that. She’s cold, aloof—”
“Well, it was hard on her.”
“Exactly, so tell me.”
James retrieved his hand and shoved it under his opposite armpit. “We did our best for the girls, in the circumstances. If you had children you’d understand.”
I was trying to be sympathetic, but that made me angry. “Don’t pull that one on me. That’s not fair.”