The Stepmother

  My heart ceased its war cry and settled into an even flutter. I slipped two pound coins into the meter. I couldn’t envisage staying for more than an hour. My heels clicked on the paving slabs. It had only been a few weeks, but I had traveled so far since I had met them last. I wondered if they would see it. Did I want them to? I looked down at my feet. The heels said a lot. I was wearing them, but it would take a discerning eye to notice I was not as steady on them as I seemed.

  “Bea! Over here.” Carmen rose from her chair. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll go to the bar. Anybody want anything?”

  She hugged me. “My God, you’ve shrunk.”

  “Wow, Bea,” said Angie. “You’ve lost masses of weight.”

  “Have I?”

  “Come, you, you must know,” said our resident fitness queen, Lee.

  In all the commotion of these last days, I had forgotten to weigh myself. “I threw away the scales. They were driving me mad.” Stick close to the truth and you may get away with the lie.

  “Well, you look fabulous. Congratulations,” said Carmen. “Sit down, Bea, it’s my round. What do you want?”

  I looked nervously around the table. Lee had a glass of red wine. Angie had vodka and tonic. Holly, too. Carmen was on champagne. I took a deep breath. “Lime and soda, please.”

  “With a chaser on the side?” asked Carmen, smiling.

  “I’m driving,” I said.

  “One won’t hurt,” she said.

  I didn’t reply.

  “I’ll have another. I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” said Angie.

  “Whoever made this plan is brilliant. We miss supper and bath time and you get to sneak out of work early,” said Holly. “Everybody gains.”

  “You sure you don’t want a proper drink?” asked Carmen, backing toward the bar.

  “Sure,” I said.

  “No wonder you’ve lost so much weight. That’s the trouble with my diet. I can’t survive without a drink at the end of the day,” said Angie. “Honestly, I’d rather skip supper.”

  “Me too,” said Holly. “I envy your willpower.”

  I smiled politely. “So, how’s everyone been?”

  “Great,” said Lee. “It’s lovely having the kids at home.”

  “Yeah, really good,” said Holly.

  “I find the holidays a bit hard,” said Angie, “but they’re all so social now, they don’t seem to mind me going to work as much as they did when they were younger. We’re off to Sardinia for the last week of the holidays, so they’re not too fed up with me. What about you, Bea?”

  “Jimmy’s parents have the girls at the moment. I needed a bit of time to sort a few things out.”

  “Like?”

  “Oh, you know, the house…” I scraped the barrel and came up empty. The women nodded sympathetically, but I wasn’t sure what they thought they were nodding about. It was a non sequitur. So I filled the gap. “Jimmy’s getting married.”

  “What?”

  “Shit! Carmen get back here,” hollered Angie. “Jimmy’s getting married.”

  Carmen came over with a tray of drinks. “I don’t believe it. Since when?”

  “How old is she?”

  “How long has he known her?”

  I held up my hands. Carmen sat down and passed around the drinks. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded.

  They exchanged a look.

  “Is she pregnant?”

  I laughed, remembering my own reaction to Jimmy’s news. The same assumptions. The same prejudices. Do all second wives walk into such a lion’s den? “Actually, she’s a pretty spectacular girl,” I said. Truthfully.

  My words were misinterpreted. I hadn’t thought I’d sounded sarcastic.

  “All tits and arse and tight—”

  “Carmen!” Lee hit her.

  “Sorry.”

  “No, I mean it. She’s a bright, nice-looking, insightful, generous person.”

  “Well, Jimmy always had good taste in women,” said Angie, touching my shoulder. “I just never thought he was over you.”

  “He follows you around like a puppy,” said Holly, agreeing.

  “We’ve always thought it a little unfair that your ex-husband paid you more attention than our husbands paid us,” said Lee.

  “Speak for yourself! My husband pays me plenty,” said Carmen.

  We pretended to block our ears. Carmen was prone to going into detail.

  “’Least we understand the diet now. To be honest, we were getting a little worried about you,” said Angie.

  “You were?”

  “Well, you haven’t been yourself recently.”

  “Yourself” meaning the silent suffering mistress of school scrunchies or the “yourself” that predated that? The fun, happy, sexy woman I was before child rearing ate me alive? The former, of course. They’d never known the latter. I was the woman who’d scoop up their children at a moment’s notice when they couldn’t get out of work or their nannies were held up. I was the woman who ferried their children to and from parties, because I had nothing better to do. I was the woman who could be called upon to organize outings, fairs, shows, picnics, sports days…Maybe it was no bad thing not to be that “yourself” anymore.

  “Hey, Bea, what’s wrong?” Carmen leaned forward and took my hand.

  It was only then that I realized my cheeks were wet. “Sorry,” I said.

  “What on earth are you apologizing for?”

  I brushed the next tear away, but I’d sprung a leak. I laughed stupidly. A self-deprecating titter wasn’t going to nullify the fact that I was sitting in a bar with tears streaming down my face at five-thirty in the afternoon.

  “Let me get you a proper drink,” said Angie.

  “No!” I yelled. They froze. “Oh, to hell with it! I’m sorry, I seem to be in the grip of a nervous breakdown.” It was meant to sound funny, but it didn’t. I brushed aside another fast-rolling tear. “And, yes, I’d love a drink. I’d love one more than Carmen would love the latest Balenciaga bag. But I can’t. Because when I do, I can’t stop.”

  I watched the women I had called my friends take the audio equivalent of a double take. Yes. You heard right. I have a problem with drink. I had thought they were my lifeline. In fact, they were just a bunch of women with children the same age at the same school. They didn’t know me at all. It wasn’t their fault. What had I given them to go on? Nothing but an overriding need to bend over backward. Yes, I had been taken advantage of, but only because I’d let them. If I help you enough, maybe you’ll ask me to stay.

  Lee was the first to move. She leaned over the table and took my hand. “Oh, Bea, you poor thing.”

  “Brilliant diet…black coffee and booze.”

  She stared at my hand, rubbing it gently with her thumb.

  “Fucking stupid, eh?”

  “No more stupid than ruining your insides with laxative abuse,” she said.

  I blinked, not understanding. “You? But you’re so healthy and fit.”

  “On the outside. But if I go near an egg, it’s home-enema time for me. I’ve completely buggered my intestines. That’s why I’m so conscious about what I eat. Trust me, I understand black coffee and booze. I was in college in the States at the time and had no money. Laxatives were cheaper.”

  “So, what are you going to do? Cut down?” asked Angie.

  I shook my head. “Cut it out completely. It’s not just a couple too many and I pass out. I become angry and mean, and poor Amber gets the brunt of it. I can’t risk it. She’s been through enough.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” said Carmen, “why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Not an easy thing to tell, right?” said Lee, answering for me.

  “When did it all start?” asked Angie.

  “Good question,” I said. “A long time ago, except it wasn’t drink in the beginning.”

  Four faces frowned at me.

  “It was food. I used to binge. Nothing like a refined-sugar hig
h to get you through another lonely night.”

  Holly shook her head. “And there was I, always thinking how incredibly sorted you were.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “You kidding? It’s a relief.”

  “Yeah. Superwoman makes everyone else feel like shit,” said Angie.

  “Me—Superwoman? You’re the one who holds down an amazing job, brings up three kids, is still married, and somehow manages to make school concerts.”

  “I have a secret twin,” said Angie. “She’s called Chronic Exhaustion. My husband calls her Stroppy Bitch for short.”

  “It’s weird,” said Holly. “I’ve sometimes envied you your situation, time off every other weekend. Free to bring up children without interference.”

  “Or support,” I pointed out.

  “Take off the rose-tinted spectacles, sweetie. We all do it single-handedly,” said Carmen. “Sure, the men swan in for a kiss and a story, if you’re lucky, but the hard graft is down to us.”

  “It’s true,” said Angie. “Rob and I both work, but when I get home, I do supper, homework, bath, and bed. Rob opens a beer and puts on the telly. I organize the shopping, the holidays, the weekends, our evenings out…Everything. Drives me mad.”

  “And then they start coming home late…” said Carmen, and picked up her glass. “And you wonder, did it all count for nothing?”

  There was a lengthy pause.

  “But your husband’s amazing,” said Lee. “You guys are always so happy.”

  I watched disbelief pass across Carmen’s face. “That’s what I thought.” She was silent for a time. “Oh, shit, there’s a young woman at his work…I don’t know but I don’t think anything’s happened yet. I’ve no proof he even likes her.” She stuck her fingers into her solar plexus. “Except in here. I feel sick. He’s pulling away from me and nothing I do seems to stop it.”

  “Oh, Carmen, it’ll be okay. You’ve just got to hang on in there,” said Holly. “We all go through tough times. Alex and I went for counseling after our third was born, because I was so resentful.”

  “And?”

  “We’re still together.”

  “Talk to him,” I said.

  “I feel so stupid, though. I hate feeling so insecure.”

  “Tough. Make him realize what he’s jeopardizing,” I said. “Make him understand that you need him. I’m not the only Superwoman at this table. We all do it—pretend we can take everything on the chin. Bring it on—what else can you throw at me? We all say men need to be needed, as if it’s something pathetic, but you know what? Why aren’t we allowed to need a man? What’s so wrong with that? Isn’t that what a partnership is? My advice, go on holiday. Immediately. Just the two of you. He loves you. If his head’s been turned, turn it back.”

  “Sorry, Bea, I didn’t mean to commandeer the conversation.”

  “Angie’s right,” said Lee, “it’s a relief to hear your perfect marriage is just like everyone else’s.”

  “Well, fuck it,” said Holly. “While we’re on the subject, my eldest daughter and I haven’t managed a civil word to one another since the beginning of the year. She hates me.”

  “But you said you were having a great holiday,” I said, perplexed.

  “I lied,” she replied unapologetically. “It’s been hell.”

  I STAYED LONGER THAN AN hour, forgot about the meter, and got a ticket. But it didn’t matter, because for the cheap price of fifty pounds I had discovered something priceless. Those women were great, and I was lucky to call them friends. I offered to drive Lee and Carmen home. It was out of my way but they both accepted. They were using me, and that was okay. A little weakness went a long way. It made us each feel stronger, and a strong team was what you needed around you when you were shaky and unsure. We discussed Holly’s daughter, Carmen’s husband’s crush, imagined or otherwise, and, to lighten the atmosphere, we dissected Lee’s sluggish bowels. We shared our insecurities and felt more secure for it.

  I dropped Lee home first. She got out, then tapped on the window. I opened it. “Joking aside,” she said, “it took me a long time to stop taking laxatives. I tried and failed many times before I succeeded…You’ll probably think this is too American, but therapy helped.” She reached through the open window and took my arm. “I’m just saying, you fall off the wagon, you darn well tell us, Bea.”

  “And if you go anywhere near a laxative?”

  “I’ll tell you.”

  “Deal,” I said. Carmen and I waved and I pulled out into the traffic.

  “I feel better after two hours’ chatting to you lot than I have in ages,” said Carmen.

  “Ditto.”

  “I’ve been driving myself mad about that woman in the office.”

  “Easy to do,” I said.

  “Why don’t you come to mine? I think I’ve got some virgin piñacolada mix. We can pretend, and if you want, you can tell me why you started binge-eating in the first place.”

  “It’s quite a story.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she smiled, “it’s enlightened self-interest. I’ve got one for you.”

  I glanced briefly at Carmen, then peered through the windshield. For the first time in ages I could see the road ahead. It was then that it dawned on me that a spiral goes both ways.

  WHEN I GOT HOME, I called Honor and arranged to collect my children the following day. Amber was visiting Caspar, but I expected her home soon. I could do soup and sobriety in the pleasure of my own company, but it wasn’t my life. It wasn’t real. I had to battle with Lulu over reading, then stay sober…That was the test. I had to hear about bridesmaids’ dresses and not sink my teeth into a Bakewell tart. I had to see a baby boy in the park and not want to swallow a razor blade. It helped to know I had friends I could call, but maybe Lee was right. Maybe professional help would be better. I thought about looking up Alcoholics Anonymous in the Yellow Pages, then decided to put on a load of washing first.

  I had just gathered up the contents of the laundry box when I heard a knock at the front door. “Use your key!” I yelled. I came downstairs with an assortment of dirty clothes, peered through the glass, then yanked open the door. “Jimmy! What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Bea.”

  “The girls aren’t in.”

  “Actually, I came to see you,” he said. “Can I help you with that?” He reached out to take some of the clothes, but the disturbance upset the critical mass and they tumbled about my feet.

  “Sorry. Made more work for you, as usual.”

  We both crouched down. My knee touched his. He was very close. I gathered up the tank tops, socks, shirts, and pants, suddenly nervous.

  “I’m afraid I haven’t got much to offer you except herbal tea.”

  “Herbal tea is perfect.”

  We walked through to the kitchen, me in the lead, Jimmy following, as we had done countless times before. On his territory, he always let me go first too, and I wondered why I hadn’t let myself see that all he had ever done was try to put me first.

  I racked my brain to work out why he was here. “I thought you’d be with Tessa at Liz’s,” I said, stuffing the dirty laundry into the machine, irrespective of color or creed.

  “I was,” he said, pulling out a pine chair.

  “Oh.” I filled the kettle with London’s finest. “How are they coping?”

  “A bit too soon to say. Tessa’s main concern is where Liz is going to live now. She wants to be with her mother.”

  “In the country?” I turned off the tap.

  Jimmy shrugged.

  “Are you moving to the country, Jimmy? Is that why you’re here?” I could feel my voice rising in panic. I didn’t want to be any more of a single parent than I already was. He let me down often and, yes, he did make more work for me, but the girls knew he was around the corner if they needed him. Jimmy was closer to his children than many of the other fathers I knew. He was a regular in their lives, not a visitor. I didn’t want him to become one. �
��Because that does concern us.”

  “I know, Bea. I don’t know where to start. Could you sit down, please?” I realized I was waving a full kettle in the air. I plugged it in and switched it on. Then I sat down. “What is it? What’s going on?”

  Jimmy reached out and took my hand. He held it gently, his thumb resting between the knuckles of my fore and index fingers. He closed his eyes.

  Please don’t tell me you’re dying. Please. Please, God, don’t tell me that. Don’t.

  “Tessa told me about the baby.”

  I snatched my hand away, repelled by the soft human contact. He took it again, firmer, and held it. “It’s okay,” he said. “You did nothing wrong.”

  I snorted. “No. There’s nothing wrong in murdering a perfectly healthy child because you couldn’t face a few more fucking pounds. Well, the pounds came anyway, so he died for nothing.”

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d slapped me. I had spat the words out with the sneering anger I’d heard in Amber’s voice many times, and hated its ugliness. I tried to pull away but he held on to my hand. I was shocked. I thought I was feeling better, but the poisonous anger hadn’t gone very far.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant you did nothing wrong in the circumstances. Bea, I’m not surprised that the thought of another baby sent you over the edge. You were right, it was too much, we couldn’t afford another, and if I’d had an eye on you we would probably have come to that conclusion together. I was in the wrong, Bea. Not you.”

  “You wouldn’t have recommended we get rid of it,” I said. Jimmy was too soft for that. “Not in a million years.”

  “You’re wrong, Bea. Another child meant being even more beholden to your damn mother, which I have always resented,” he said. “Somehow I think I blamed you for that.”

  “Me? I’m the one who hated it.”

  “I know. But you had the heart to put your pride and ego aside and do what was best for our children, knowing you’d be made to pay over and over again.” He stood up and went to the cupboard above the kettle.

  I had forgotten about my offer of herbal tea. I let him take over.