‘I’ve been catching up with Esme’s news.’ Vanessa sits down, still clutching on to Cordelia. She reaches out for Esme’s hand. ‘This is wonderful. My two enchanting girls.’
Cordelia glances at Esme and her sister gives a surreptitious wink. When they were younger, they would count how many times in a conversation their mother used the word enchanting. ‘Six,’ Esme would say when they escaped to their room. ‘No!’ Cordelia shrieked triumphantly. ‘Seven. I counted seven!’
‘I’ve ordered some pasta,’ Vanessa says. ‘Hope that’s okay.’
‘Fine.’
‘What time is visiting?’ Esme asks.
‘Three. Your father’s so excited about seeing you both again.’
Cordelia forces herself to smile. ‘It’s been a long time.’
‘I worked it out,’ Esme says. ‘I was about twelve last time I saw him, so you were sixteen, Cordelia.’
‘I guess so.’ The memory of those other later meetings burns Cordelia’s insides like an ulcer.
The waitress arrives with their food; parmesan cheese, salt and pepper occupy them. Cordelia swallows but the pasta settles like glue in her chest.
‘You must be prepared for the change in your father,’ Vanessa says.
‘You mean he’s going to be warm and loving and reliable?’ Cordelia asks.
‘Darling, this is going to be difficult enough, without – ’
‘I said I’d come to see him; I didn’t say we’d play happy families.’
‘Can’t you let the past rest?’ Vanessa says. ‘Forgive him? He’s an old man.’
Cordelia’s fork clatters on to the plate. ‘Why are you on his side suddenly?’ She glares at Vanessa. ‘I begged you to take him back. We could have been a family again, but you said – ’
‘It wasn’t easy then. For a start there was Andrew…’
‘Is it really the time for all this?’ Esme asks. ‘We’ve agreed to see him. Let’s – ’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’
‘What do you mean?’ Two spots of colour have appeared on Vanessa’s cheeks.
‘I’m not coming.’
‘But Cordy – ’
‘Don’t call me that!’ The words slice through the air; Vanessa’s head jerks back as they hit her.
‘Cordelia, come on,’ Esme pleads. ‘Let’s go to the hospital and get it over with.’
Cordelia shakes her head.
‘What am I going to tell him?’ Vanessa asks. ‘He was so pleased.’
‘Whatever you like. But I don’t want to see him. He’s messed up my life and – ’
‘All the more reason to see him,’ Esme says. ‘Tell him how you feel while you’ve got the chance.’
‘No.’
Vanessa orders some coffee. They drink it in silence. Cordelia catches Esme’s eye and Esme gives a little shake of her head. Her sister thinks she’s wrong, Cordelia can tell, but Vanessa’s smugness was unbearable when she thought she was going to get them all together again. Was she hoping to pretend the past hadn’t happened? She’d be asking for a group hug next.
‘There is something else I wanted to mention,’ Vanessa says.
Here we go, Cordelia thinks. Your father blah blah blah, very ill blah blah blah, don’t know …
‘It was something Savannah told me about Patrick. Something I think you should know.’
Cordelia stiffens. Patrick? This is a new tack. What can Vanessa have found out about Patrick? ‘If it’s about him changing his name, then I know all about that.’
‘Ooh, has he changed his name?’ Esme asks. ‘Why was that?’
‘It’s not about that, as it happens,’ Vanessa says. ‘But I would be interested to know why.’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Maybe not.’ Vanessa pauses. ‘But it is my business that he’s encouraging my granddaughter into modelling.’
‘What sort of crap is that? What makes you think Savvy wants to be a model?’
‘She told me.’
‘When?’
‘When I was staying with you. I know this isn’t a good time to mention it, but I’ve been waiting for a chance to talk face to face.’
‘She’s fifteen. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’
‘She seems very determined. Apparently Patrick’s got contacts in London and he’s going to introduce her. I really think you ought to look into it, darling. How much do you know about Patrick?’
Cordelia slams her coffee cup into the saucer. ‘Everything I need to. I knew you didn’t like him.’
‘I think he’s really nice,’ Esme says, ‘but the modelling does sound a bit suspicious.’
‘That’s all I meant,’ Vanessa says.
Cordelia clutches her knees, pushing her legs into the floor to stop them trembling. ‘Just because you couldn’t keep your man, you can’t stand to see me happy.’ She stares at her mother and sees her pupils dilate. Vanessa’s eyes are dark as earth after rain.
‘That’s harsh, Cordelia,’ Esme says.
‘The truth sometimes is.’ The urge to hurt Vanessa is overwhelming, to pay her back for letting their father go. ‘Our wonderful parents – famous sculptor, fashionable designer, and we’re both completely fucked up.’ Cordelia hardly ever swears. Now, she enjoys the sound of the words as they come out of her mouth, the shocked look on her mother’s face.
‘I know I wasn’t the best mum ever,’ Vanessa says. ‘But you only get one go at motherhood. You can’t say, oops I made a mistake, can I have that conversation, make that decision again? Give a hug instead of a smack. Once it’s done, it’s indelible. But you can’t blame me for your father’s actions. I loved him and I did everything I could to make him stay.’
Cordelia phones Patrick to say she’s catching an earlier train and can he meet her. As far as he’s concerned the trip to London has been no more than a day’s shopping with Esme.
‘How’s Savvy?’ she asks.
‘Do you want a word? She’s right here.’
‘It’s okay. What are you doing?’
‘Savvy’s put some highlights in her hair.’ Patrick laughs. ‘I’m admiring it.’
‘Oh.’ Cordelia feels as if she’s going to be sick.
‘I’ll be at the station just before eight,’ Patrick’s saying. ‘What do you fancy for supper?’ He sounds happy, better than he has for ages.
‘I don’t mind. You choose.’ Why did he change his name? She’s never found the right moment to ask. And what is it about his parents?
‘Are you all right,’ Patrick asks. ’You’re very faint. It’s not a good line.’
‘I’m okay,’ she says. ‘See you soon.’ She ends the call. As soon as she gets a chance this evening, she’ll ask him about the modelling. Her mother’s obviously got hold of the wrong end of the stick.
Patrick’s waiting on the platform and he lifts her off her feet in a bear hug. He gives her a long slow kiss and somebody claps as they go by. Cordelia laughs breathlessly. ‘I feel as if I’ve come back from the war, instead of a day in London.’
‘Let’s get home,’ Patrick says. ‘The champagne’s chilling, I’ve got a little something bubbling in the oven and the house is ours tonight.’
‘Where’s Savvy?’
‘Mother Hen, worrying about her chick.’
‘Where is she?’
‘Gone to stay … I don’t know … Hayley? Jodie? She’s been on the phone to different people all afternoon. She’s left you a note.’
Cordelia feels herself relax. Vanessa’s got her worked up over nothing. Everything’s just as it should be. There’s no need to say anything to Patrick about the modelling. He’s almost like his old self.
‘You haven’t told me about your day?’ he says. ‘How’s Esme? You don’t seem to have done much shopping.’
‘No, I didn’t see anything I liked.’
Thirteen
Vanessa was giving Cordelia her
tea in the kitchen when they heard the front door slam. Gerald’s voice shouted from the hall: ‘Where are my two beautiful girls?’ His feet clattered down the stairs, and in that way he had of almost shifting the air in a room when he came in, filled the kitchen with his presence. ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ Cordelia shrieked and he lifted her up from her chair and swung her round his head until she screamed for him to stop. He put her on the floor, but she caught at his leg. ‘More, Daddy! More!’
‘Not now, Cordy,’ he said, coming over to Vanessa. ‘How are you, my darling one? What’s new?’ He tried to give her a hug, but her belly was so big that he couldn’t get near. He turned her round and she leant against him.
‘Daddy, let me show you my new dress.’
‘In a minute, Cordy. It’s Mummy’s turn now.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and with his thumbs massaged the muscles either side of her neck. ‘Relax,’ he whispered against her ear. ‘You’re so tense.’
‘My blood pressure’s up again.’ She felt his beard tickling her cheek.
‘Not long to go now.’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘I’ll give Cordy her bath. You put your feet up.’
She turned her head, reaching backwards over her shoulder to kiss him. ‘Thank you.’
‘I thought I’d better make up for last night.’
It had been about two o’clock when he came home and slipped into bed, smelling heavily of whisky and cigars.
‘Where have you been?’ she asked, when his breathing deepened and it was clear he was going straight to sleep without saying anything.
She heard him sigh. He turned over and lay on his back, and in the half darkness she could see him staring at the ceiling. ‘At college. Why?’
‘Until this time?’ She hated herself for the question.
‘There’s all hell breaking loose.’
‘You said you’d be home by ten.’
‘The students are going to take over the college buildings.’
‘Why do you have to be involved?’
‘Christ, Nessa, what’s happened to you? This is about what colleges teach, the role of the artist in society … Christ … the future of art – things you used to care about.’
‘What about our future, Gerald?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Us. You’re hardly here any more. You’re either at college, or your studio.’
When they were first married he worked in the room at the back of the house as he’d always done. Then Cordelia’s crying got on his nerves; he couldn’t concentrate. ‘I’ll keep her quiet,’ she promised. ‘Please work here.’ But he wouldn’t. He rented a nearby empty shop and turned it into his studio.
‘You knew the score when we got together. Part of my appeal was that I was a sculptor.’ His voice had that mocking edge that he often used to others. ‘Together we’d set the art world alight, you said.’
She shifted uncomfortably, her hands on her belly. The baby always seemed to choose night time to kick. The hospital had told her it was lying low and the base of her spine ached constantly.
‘That’s not fair,’ she said, although the thought that she’d said those words made her go hot. Had she really been so naïve?
‘It’s true, though, isn’t it? You were going to be a famous artist too, but you settled for motherhood.’
‘That’s so cruel! Just because your career’s going from strength to strength.’
Earlier in the year, Gerald had an exhibition in New York and the critics heaped praise on his bronze statues – provocative depictions of the human form. Stuck at home, Vanessa tried not to be jealous, but it was hard not to wonder what she’d be doing if it weren’t for Cordelia. Sometimes she’d notice a particular colour, a pattern in the clouds, the curve of a cat’s tail, and her fingers would itch for her pens and paper. She tried drawing Cordelia, asleep in her cot, mouth open in a cry, chubby face bright with laughter. Gradually they all merged into one. There was no distinction, no definition, no character in a baby’s face.
‘I didn’t plan to have a child so soon,’ she reminded Gerald. ‘It’s not your life Cordelia’s changed. It’s mine.’
She listened to his breathing quicken and waited for him to throw back the bedclothes and storm off to the spare room. It wouldn’t be the first time. Instead she felt his arm slip round her. He cupped her breast in his palm. ‘I’m sorry, Nessa.’ His voice was muffled against the material of her nightdress. ‘I’m a selfish bastard. How do you put up with me?’
Her anger dissolved. He so rarely said sorry that the word on his lips had the magic of a rainbow. She lifted her bottom from the bed and shuffled towards him.
‘Can you manage to turn over?’ Gerald said.
‘It’s more comfortable on my back.’
‘But I can’t get close to you.’ He pushed himself on to one elbow. ‘Here … put this under your bulge.’
She heaved herself on to her side and manoeuvred the pillow into place. Gerald lay down and snuggled up to her back, so that she was cradled in his lap. His fingers fumbled with the flimsy material of her nightie, raising it above her bump.
‘Oops, there it goes,’ he said, as she felt a sharp kick. He laughed softly. ‘Going to have a little footballer on our hands.’ His hand swept across her stomach.
‘That feels good,’ she murmured. They hadn’t made love for at least a month and without the sexual connection, she sometimes felt he was drifting away. ‘We will be all right, won’t we, Gerald?’
‘Of course we will.’ His breath was warm against her back. ‘Once this little beggar’s out, you’ll feel a million dollars. We’ll get someone to help in the house and you can start working again.’
‘Do you mean it?’ She caught hold of his hand and followed the path of his stroking movements.
‘We should have done something before. Carla asked me the other day what you were working on.’
‘Carla? I thought she’d left college.’
‘She has. But I see her for lunch or a drink sometimes.’
‘You didn’t say.’
‘I don’t tell you every time I breathe, my darling.’
The baby was born on the twentieth of June. It was a short labour and four hours after Vanessa arrived at the hospital, she was sitting up in bed, her dark haired daughter in a cot beside her. There was no sign of Gerald. He hadn’t been home the night before and when the pains started in the early hours of the morning, Vanessa woke Sabina who was staying with them.
‘I’ll look after Cordy,’ she said, going to the telephone and counting out ‘Nine … nine … nine’.
The dial seemed to take an eternity – round to the nine, clacking back to its resting place.
Vanessa sat on the stairs as another contraction took her breath away. ‘Get a taxi.’
‘Darling, don’t be silly. You’re having babee. You need ambulance.’
Vanessa clutched at her head. ‘Where’s Gerald? He must have had an accident. He would have phoned.’
‘Give me telephone numbers,’ Sabina said. ‘I find him for you.’
‘There’s only the college. He won’t have a phone at the studio.’
‘Don’t get upset. It’s not good for babee.’
‘What would you know?’ The pain of another contraction made Vanessa bend double. ‘You’ve never had one.’
‘Main thing is get to hospital.’
‘If you can’t get him on those numbers, try Carla, Carla Scott. Her number’s in the phone book on the desk.’
Vanessa walked up and down the hall, gasping at the pain of each new contraction. They were coming every ten minutes now.
‘Here’s ambulance,’ Sabina said at last from her post at the window. ‘You go. I find Gerald.’
The nurse put the baby to her breast, but it wouldn’t suck. ‘You’re too agitated Mrs Blackstone. The baby senses it.’
Vanessa kept her gaze fixed on the doors of the ward.
‘I want to see my husband. Something must have happened to him.’
‘He’ll be here soon. You know what these men are like.’
It wasn’t the first time Gerald hadn’t come home. Sometimes when he was in the middle of a major piece of work, he’d carry on for days, surviving on fruit and biscuits, snatching sleep on a camp bed in the empty room above the studio. But he’d never stayed away without phoning before.
In the afternoon Sabina brought Cordelia to see her and the new baby who still didn’t have a name.
‘Where’s Gerald?’ Vanessa asked as soon as they arrived at her bed. ‘Is Gerald coming?’
‘We can’t find Daddy.’ Cordelia pulled at the baby’s shawl. ‘Is this my sister?’
‘He’s not at studio.’ Sabina was pale, despite her olive complexion. ‘I try number you give me for college many times, but either engaged or it just ring and ring.’
‘And Carla? Did you speak to Carla Scott?’
‘There was no answer.’
The main ward lights were switched off. The babies were taken to the nursery and the nurses settled the mothers for the night. There was a noise in the corridor outside the ward. A nurse approached Vanessa’s bed.
‘Mrs Blackstone,’ she whispered.
Vanessa turned her head. What did the stupid woman want now? She’d better not make her try feeding again.
‘Your husband’s here.’
Vanessa sat up. The movement pulled at her stitches, and she sucked her bottom lip. ‘Where is he? I want to see him.’
‘Visiting time is over.’
‘If you don’t let him come in, I’ll never be able to feed my baby.’
‘All right, but only for a few minutes and tell him to keep his voice down.’
Gerald burst into the ward with a bunch of red roses in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. ‘Darling, I’m so proud of you! I’ve seen the baby and she’s gorgeous.’ He dumped the flowers and bottle on the bed and put his arms round her, almost lifting her off the mattress. ‘What do you say to calling her Esme? I had an Aunt Esme and I always thought it was a fine name.’ His eyes shone and his hair was more dishevelled than usual.
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