The Stepmother

by Carrie Adams

  “When Jimmy confessed he’d seen the letter, it was easy to let him believe the baby was the product of a foolish, drunken one-night stand.”

  “And he believed you?” asked Tessa incredulously.

  “It was easier for him to think I’d slept with someone else than aborted an eighteen-week-old fetus for no reason.”

  “But you’re not the type to have an affair,” she said. “You’re devoted to your family.”

  “Anyone is the type, Tessa. In the right circumstances.”

  “Didn’t he want to know who, when, where?”

  “No. Jimmy’s not like that.”

  I watched Tessa struggle with the implausibility of my story. How could I have let my husband believe I’d slept with another man, when I could have told him the truth? Because the truth was not acceptable for the modern woman. I couldn’t cope. I had failed. At the time, I wasn’t able to admit that to myself. So I left.

  I put my head into my hands. I was exhausted.

  It was Tessa who broke the silence. “Why did you keep the letter?”

  Interesting question. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you want to be caught?”

  “Maybe. If Jimmy punished me, maybe I wouldn’t have to go on punishing myself.”

  “Punish. Listen to yourself. You didn’t need to be punished. What you went through was horrific.” Tessa reached across the table and placed her hand on mine. I don’t know what I was expecting—the superior smile of the victor, a disapproving snarl, a blank, unforgiving stare? Instead, she squeezed my hand. “It’s not your fault.”

  We looked at each other, her hand on mine. The clock went on ticking. I couldn’t speak.

  “James has to take some responsibility.”

  I pulled my hand away. “James…I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”

  Tessa didn’t say anything.

  “He doesn’t know. Tessa, imagine what it would do to him. Do you have any idea how often the abortion debate comes up? Premature babies surviving younger and younger. Some only days older than—” my voice faltered. “No, he’d hate me.”

  “He could never hate you, Bea.”

  “I killed his son.”

  “Because he’d deserted you, left you alone with three kids. No wonder you couldn’t cope.”

  “Why couldn’t I cope? It’s pathetic.”

  “Because it’s fucking tough.”

  “Whose side are you on?” I asked.

  She paused. “I don’t know. Your children’s, I suppose.”

  “Thank you.”

  She looked as if my answer had amazed her. It had certainly amazed me. “And that’s why I’m going to say something now that I don’t think you want to hear.”

  I braced myself.

  “Bea, you have to stop drinking. And I mean completely.”

  “Oh, God…” I moaned. “I don’t want to go back to eating again.”

  “But alcohol is such a depressant, not to say personality-altering.”

  “So is being fat.”

  “Get help, then. I know it’s easy for me to say stop. I can have one drink and go to bed. I can also get pissed and have a laugh, then not drink for a few days. I can open a packet of Minstrels, have four, and leave the rest. I don’t have that addictive thing. God knows, I have others—”

  “I thought you were perfect.” I smiled at her.

  “I thought you were,” she replied. “The impossible act to follow.”

  “I wouldn’t try to do that.”

  “There’s always smack,” she said.

  “Leave that for the grand finale. I suggest prescription drugs to start with.”

  “Good thinking,” laughed Tessa. “I tell you, there have been moments in the last few weeks when we’ve had the girls where I’ve longed to get my hands on some Valium.”

  “So you’re not perfect.”

  “No. Deeply flawed. Like everyone.”

  “You look perfect.”

  “Bea, no one thinks they look perfect. I’ve got a huge nose.”

  “Actually, I’d noticed that.”

  “Thanks!”

  Weird. Here I was, giggling with the woman I assumed I’d hate. But why would I hate her? Unless Jimmy had had a major personality alteration, he was not the silly, vain, bimbo type. I wasn’t like that. And he’d loved me.

  “Seriously,” I asked, “what are your flaws?”

  Tessa thought about this. “I cling to people and make their lives my own.”

  “I guess I’d have to agree with that, since you’re about to marry my husband and live with my children.”

  The mood changed suddenly. It was my fault. But that’s honesty for you. It isn’t always hard to swallow, but she’d been dishing it out for a wee while now.

  “Ex-husband,” said Tessa slowly. “My understanding was that you’d given him up.”

  I looked at her for a long time. Now for the moment of truth. “I want him back.” Briefly, I felt the most extraordinary affinity for the woman sitting opposite me. Why wouldn’t she want my life? It had been a great one until things had conspired against me. Jimmy was a good man. My daughters were good kids. Okay, so it wasn’t the perfect Prince Charming setup, and the baggage was heftier than she had probably envisaged, but it was a good package and she knew it. And that was why this time her response came as no surprise to me.

  Tessa shook her head. “You can’t,” she said. “It’s too late.”

  “Is it?”

  Tessa bit her lip, but didn’t reply.

  I stood up. “We’ll be out of your hair first thing.”

  The whistle blew and we returned to our trenches. I couldn’t tell you the score, but I think it was evening out. In my favor.

  IN FACT, TESSA LEFT FIRST. I was up early so she must have gone at dawn. When I came down, a woman from the village was restocking the kitchen. She’d made a breakfast tray for Liz. Out of politeness, I offered to take it up. A quick farewell, then my family and I would be on our way. I eased the door open with a foot, placed the tray on Liz’s knees, and went to open the curtains.

  It was a beautiful day. Spring seemed to have leapfrogged summer, and I found myself staring out at what looked like mid-August blue sky. I turned back and watched Liz as she felt around the plate for a slice of peach. She was making a valiant effort, but I could tell she needed help.

  “Careful,” I said, sitting down next to her and taking the tray. “The tea’s hot.” I prodded a piece of fruit with a fork and handed it to her.

  “Thank you.”

  “When are Hugh and Peter back?”

  “They’ve been delayed. Problem with the ferry.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Don’t worry. Tessa’s organized a rota of people to come in and check on—”

  “We can stay until they get here.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Liz, please, let me help.”

  “Did Tessa put you up to this?” she asked impatiently.

  “Did your daughter ask her fiancé’s ex-wife to look after her beloved mother? Let me think about that.” I laughed. “No. I don’t think we’re quite there yet.”

  “Maybe one day.” She stabbed about for a bit of fruit. I didn’t say anything. “Look, I’m getting the hang of this already,” she said, holding up a piece of peach victoriously.

  There was a knock on the door. Amber and Maddy came in.

  “Lulu says we’re going to Granny’s,” said Amber indignantly. “Is that true?”

  “Good morning, Mummy, good morning, Liz,” I reminded them.

  They mumbled a vague greeting.

  “We always go and see my mother during the holidays,” I explained to Liz.

  “Do we have to? It’s so boring there. I want to go home,” said Amber.

  “I wonder why,” I said.

  “It’s not that,” retaliated Amber.

  “Maybe Caspar could visit us at Granny’s,” I said.

  “Granny wouldn’t like him. He
’s not posh enough.”

  “She didn’t like your father for the same reason. Silly old trout.” Amber giggled. A beautiful sound. I pointed at Maddy. “Don’t you dare tell her I said that.”

  “I’m sorry you’re going. It’s been lovely having you all.”

  “Can we come back?” asked Maddy.

  “You’ll always be welcome,” said Liz. She wasn’t looking at me, but I knew who she was talking to. She had no idea how this was going to pan out, either. For me or her daughter.

  “Will you teach me how to make jam in the summer?” asked Maddy.

  “Of course. You can be my eyes.”

  “Don’t be silly. Your eyes will have stopped rolling by then,” said Maddy.

  “You think?”

  “Yes. They’re moving slower than yesterday.”

  Liz and I smiled at each other, though only one of us could see it.

  “Thank you, Dr. Maddy. Now, where is Lulu? She said she’d read to me before you left.”

  I was staggered. “She did?”

  “Yes,” said Liz. “The whole of the Little Red Hen series.”

  “Lulu!” Maddy shrieked.

  I winced.

  Lulu appeared at the bedroom door with her books.

  “Are you really going to read to Liz?” I asked.

  She nodded shyly.

  “That’s great, Lulu.”

  Lulu shrugged. “Well, she doesn’t interrupt me when I’m trying to finish the words, because she can’t see them.”

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “Every cloud…” said Liz.

  Lulu climbed onto the bed, then looked at me imperiously.

  “You can go now,” she said.

  Funny. Now that I could, I didn’t want to.

  Seventeen

  Hold Fast

  “CHRIST, YOU LOOK LIKE FUCKING SHIT.”

  Ah, the dulcet tones of Linda first thing on a Monday morning. I forced a smile. “So would you if you’d had my weekend,” I said.

  “I told you the recording studio was a sodding bad idea.”

  The recording studio? Was that only two days ago? It felt like months. “That was the one good thing, actually.”

  “Yeah? I spoke to Carlos. He said your little step-minx was quite a find. I think he might have ideas for her.”

  “No way. You said it yourself.”

  “Looks like Lily Cole and a voice like Billie Holiday. Her curled-up naked in a big piece of amber, locked inside the angst of puberty, singing about how to make yourself an individual when all around are automata. Pushy mums will love it, horny dads will love it, and the kids’ll eat it up. I can see it. Huge.”

  “No, no, no, no. No. No.”

  “Well, think about it.”

  “Linda, no.”

  “Has she got an agent? Bounce some figures around.”

  “Christ, Linda, anyone ever tell you you’re a rottweiler?”

  She smiled proudly. “Why thank you, Ms. King.”

  “You are not getting your manipulative paws on James’s daughter. If she still wants to sing at eighteen, you can talk to her, but not a day before. I’ve seen what you do to the young ones and it ain’t pretty.”

  “Nice, stable family. She’d be all right.”

  Yeah, right. Mother a drinker. Father an ostrich. And future stepmother the archetypal witch. “Do you tell yourself these things so you can sleep at night?”

  “No. My very accommodating pharmacist helps me with that.” She opened a drawer. “You want a couple?”

  “No, thank you,” I said archly while making a mental note. Second drawer on the right.

  “You will.”

  “What I do need, however, is to take some time off.”

  “Darlin’, you’ve only just joined the company.”

  “I know. But my mother’s ill.”

  “Yeah, and the kids have a school play, a dentist appointment, and someone has to take the old dear to chemo. It’s the sad time we’re in, Tessa. Parents as demanding as the bloody children. And so cranks on the effing conveyor belt of life.”

  I assumed she was joking. “Two days, max. Until the medicine starts to work.”

  “Tessa, Janet’s mother’s in a hospice, Tony’s dad has Alzheimer’s and his mother had a car accident a few years ago and never fully recovered. Val’s son has Asperger’s and her mother has just had a stroke…I could empty the office like that,” she clicked her fingers, “if everyone took a couple of days just to see if the meds were working.”

  I should have explained the gravity of the situation from the start. “Actually, it’s a bit more complicated. Mum needs to go to a hospital and my father’s been held up. There’s no one—”

  “We have McCloud and Tanner this afternoon. You can’t go.”

  “But—”

  “No, Tessa. This meeting’s important. Someone else will have to take her.” My expression gave me away. Linda narrowed her eyes at me, picking up a scent. “And don’t think about doing anything dramatic like quitting, because your résumé isn’t looking as consistent these days, and you wouldn’t want another contretemps with a boss, would you?”

  “What’s happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “To you.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Why are you being so…”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Mean? Tessa, we’re not in the frigging playground anymore. I’ve always been like this. It’s just you’ve never had the pleasure of witnessing it firsthand. No time off. Sorry.”

  “I’m quite well versed in employment law and I know that after—”

  “I wouldn’t pull that one, darlin’. It might sour our relationship.”

  “It just soured.” I walked to the door and left.

  Outside, in the corridor, I started to shake. I walked straight past Matt and just managed to close my office door on his inquiring face before I burst into tears. Surely this wasn’t happening. Surely I’d just picked a bad moment. Surely she’d realize how unreasonable she was being and put it right. Surely we’d progressed further than this. I sat down angrily, in shock, but after a while came to the sorry conclusion that Linda had been deadly serious. I didn’t know what that crap was about not being in the playground, because right then it felt as though we’d never left.

  I THOUGHT LONG AND HARD before I called Bea, but in the end I decided she was my only choice. There were sweet people in the village who’d do it, but I needed someone to be my eyes, ears, and voice. And right at that moment, it felt as if I had more in common with Bea than with anyone else in the world. So I asked her a favor I had no right to ask and was filled with gratitude when she said yes.

  “I’m so fucking cross. I don’t know when Dad and Peter will be able to get a boat—” I was still reeling from my encounter with Linda.

  “It’s okay. I’ll do it,” said Bea calmly.

  “I’m so sorry to ask you.”

  “Tessa, you took care of my kids when I couldn’t. I owe you.”

  She sounded so kind and understanding, I only just managed to thank her before welling up again.

  “The benefits of having no life,” said Bea, and laughed a dry laugh. “Anyway, the girls like it here.”

  “I could quit.”

  “Don’t do that,” said Bea sternly. “Finding a new job is harder from the outside. I was going to go back to work after Maddy started school…Sorry, what am I talking about? Tell me what needs doing.”

  “When you get to the hospital, talk to a man called Mr. Evans. Please check that they’re administering the interferon—”

  “Hang on, let me get a pen.”

  When Bea came back on the line, I gave her a list of questions that I had been in too much of a daze to ask the day before. Exactly which nerves had short-circuited this time? What was the expected recovery time and when would we know if we were dealing with a permanent problem? Would she heal or would she be left with optic neuritis? Would we have to change her med
icine from weekly to every two or three days? What was the long-term burden going to be on Dad? Had she suddenly jumped to second stage?

  “Shit, I should be there.”

  “It’s okay, Tessa. I can cope. I’ll talk to them and call you straight away. I’ve got it. I understand the basics of this disease now.”

  She was a quick learner.

  “You’re wasted on the carpool,” I said.

  “You think?”

  “I’m so sorry about—”

  “Stop apologizing. To be completely honest, a stay with my mother was guaranteed to set me galloping into a bottle of gin.” Bea paused. “What news of Jimmy?”

  “He says he can’t come back,” I replied. “It’s not possible now but he’ll leave early. He’ll miss the final party, which I thought was big of him.”

  Bea was intelligent enough not to defend him, but I could tell she wanted to. I wondered in that moment whether she loved him more than I did. But I had other things to think about, so I put that alarming idea to one side with all the others, like my eighty-four-year-old father looking after my blind mother. And how far she’d bounce back this time. Could they afford full-time care? No. Could I? Not without a bloody good job. I had no choice…I’d have to commute. Bea could fill the gap, but not permanently.

  The meeting dragged on, as legal meetings do when lawyers are being paid by the hour. I managed a quick call to Bea during a break, but she was at the hospital and her phone was off. I thought I’d go mad when they ordered in the sandwiches. I had the most horrible sense that Linda was enjoying my discomfort. She kept asking me probing but irrelevant questions.

  Finally, at ten to nine that evening, the meeting was called to a close. Someone suggested drinks. I legged it, dialing home as I ran.

  “Hello?”

  “Mum, it’s me. I’m just running to the station now. I’m so sorry—”

  “Don’t be silly. Go home.”

  “No, I want to—”

  “Darling, we’ll all be asleep by the time you get here and still be asleep when you leave tomorrow morning.”

  “But—”

  “Honestly, Tessa. Go home. Get some rest.”