Lara’s eyes widened. ‘Mummy, do you don’t like Imogen?’
‘No! Of course I do,’ I said, desperately trying to do damage control. Lara had a habit of repeating everything she heard at home. ‘I meant I can’t stand her to come here when we have no food in the house and it’s still messy.’ I pulled James aside. ‘Why didn’t you make up an excuse?’ I hissed.
James put up his hands defensively. ‘I’m sorry, Emma. Look, I was talking to Henry last night and she came on the phone and offered to call in. I couldn’t very well say no.’
‘Yes, you could. “No” is the easiest word in the world to say.’
‘It would have been rude.’
‘Imogen has skin like an elephant’s. She’s incapable of being insulted.’
James grinned. ‘That’s a bit harsh. She means well.’
‘No, she most certainly does not. She goes out of her way to be nasty.’
‘She’s just a little direct at times.’
‘She’s a cow,’ I muttered.
‘She’s my brother’s wife,’ James protested, a bit alarmed. I’d say he was worried about the reception Imogen would get from me.
‘Why are you talking all quiet?’ Lara asked.
‘We’re just discussing Daddy’s work,’ I said brightly. Then to James, ‘You can’t leave me now.’
James peered at his watch. ‘Sorry, darling. I said I’d meet the management team at nine thirty. I have to go.’
‘James, this is not a good start to our new life. You may come back to an empty house,’ I grumbled, my earlier positivity evaporating.
‘You never know, you may have fun.’ James winked at me, then legged it out of the door.
I was in the middle of a whirlwind effort to tidy the kitchen when I heard Imogen’s loud, horsy voice bellowing outside.
‘Come along, children, we have to visit poor Aunt Emma. She’s never been to London before so she needs our help. She’s not used to big cities. She won’t be able to manage at all.’
Yuri looked up from the jigsaw he was doing. ‘Is that Imogen?’
I nodded.
‘Do you think Thomas is there, too?’ He looked terrified.
I peeped out of the window. ‘Yes.’
‘Muuuuuuum!’
‘I know he can be a bit of a pain, Yuri. Why don’t you just try to stay away from him? Hopefully they won’t stay too long.’
The bell rang. Damn! No time to run up and change. I reluctantly went to open the door, with Lara at my side. My three-year-old daughter was dressed from head to toe in a frog outfit she’d found in one of the boxes when my back was turned.
Imogen was standing at the door in her usual uniform of white shirt, navy blazer, cream chinos and sensible slip-on shoes. She was all about smart, practical clothes. I’d never seen her in heels. She’d once told me that she thought my clothes were very ‘jazzy’ and that my ‘sky-high shoes’ were ‘utterly ridiculous’. Apparently I’d develop bunions from wearing them. Imogen’s idea of glamour was putting a scarf – probably dotted with horseshoes – over her navy blazer.
Her brown hair was cut in a short bob, which she held back from her face with an Alice band. She always wore one, even though I was pretty sure they’d gone out of fashion in the eighties. Mind you, I was in no position to criticize anyone: I’d answered the door in an old pair of tracksuit bottoms and the T-shirt I’d slept in.
Imogen’s children were dressed like clones of their mother: cream chinos and white shirts. I looked at Yuri, who was wearing a T-shirt that said I Hate Homework and red pyjama bottoms with bright green aliens all over them. I cursed James under my breath for landing this on me. ‘Hi, guys,’ I said, plastering a smile on my face while Imogen took in my unkempt, trailer-trash look.
‘Just up?’ she asked, brushing past me, followed by Thomas and the twins.
‘Uhm, kind of, yes. We stayed up late unpacking.’
‘Hello, Aunt Emma,’ the twins said. Thomas ignored me. Nothing new there.
I smiled at the twins, who were sweet girls. Luckily for them, they had inherited Henry’s sunny disposition and so far had avoided their mother’s sharp tongue and large posterior – we’re talking Kim Kardashian plus J-Lo and Beyoncé. I felt positively petite beside her. Every cloud …
I bent down to the twins. ‘Girls, please just call me Emma. “Aunt Emma” sounds so formal and makes me feel ancient.’
‘They address all of their aunts and uncles like that. I don’t see why they should make an exception for you.’ Imogen was looking around the hall, wrinkling her nose.
‘Come on in. I’ll put the kettle on,’ I said, praying it would be a flying visit. The older children went into the lounge, but Lara followed me into the kitchen. ‘It’ll just be black coffee, I’m afraid, Imogen, I haven’t had a chance to find a supermarket.’
Imogen lowered her oversized posterior into a seat and arched an eyebrow at the general clutter. I moved towards the kettle and clicked it on.
‘Ribbit,’ Lara said, hopping like a frog.
Imogen looked at her. ‘Oh, hello. Are you off to a fancy-dress party?’
Lara shook her head. ‘Ribbit.’
‘Is she still not talking?’ Imogen asked.
I took a deep breath and willed myself to remain calm and serene, two very alien emotions in my life. I’d have loved to be both calm and serene all the time. ‘I like you. You’re feisty,’ James said, when he first met me. ‘Feisty and spirited.’ I wasn’t sure how thrilled he was by my feistiness now, but in the beginning he’d thought it was great.
I was very touchy about anyone commenting on Lara’s speech because she had been late to talk. She hadn’t said a word until she was almost three, which everyone kept commenting on, of course. But once she started, she came out with complete sentences and hadn’t stopped since. We’d had five months of non-stop chatter and she had an opinion on everything.
‘Lara, say hello to Imogen,’ I said, desperate for my daughter to show Imogen how wonderful her vocabulary was.
Lara blinked. ‘Ribbit.’
‘Oh dear. It’s getting serious now, Emma. Have you considered that she may have –’ Imogen leant in and whispered loudly ‘– learning difficulties? I know a marvellous woman who deals with children who –’
I cut straight across her: ‘Lara does not have learning difficulties. She’s pretending to be a frog. She’s very creative.’
Imogen sat up. ‘How can you be sure if she doesn’t speak?’
‘She speaks perfectly well.’ I turned to Lara and eyeballed her. Keeping my voice neutral, I urged her, ‘Come on, sweetheart, talk to Imogen. Show her how clever you are.’
Lara stared at me, unblinking, then turned and hopped away shouting, ‘Ribbit.’ Right then and there, I wanted to kill my own child.
Imogen looked at me as if I was living in denial and her point had been irrefutably proven. ‘I’ll text you the woman’s number later. It’s useful to have.’
‘Lara is not – Oh, never mind.’ I slammed two mugs of coffee onto the table, slopping them.
‘It’s a pity you didn’t consult me before renting this place.’ Imogen took out a large handkerchief and wiped her coffee cup. ‘The other side of Putney is so much smarter. This road is a bit, well, mixed.’
Imogen had been in the house ten minutes and I already wanted to slap her. I fantasized briefly about wrapping a whole roll of masking tape around her mouth. ‘What are you going to do about the awful décor?’ she continued.
‘As we’re renting, there isn’t much I can do. But I’m going to cover the walls with paintings and photos and get some colourful rugs to put over the carpet. We’ll fix it up so it looks more homely.’
‘Have you put the children down for schools?’
‘They’re going to attend a Montessori ten minutes’ walk from here. I had a quick visit to it the last time I was over and it seemed nice.’
‘But isn’t Yuri five?’
‘No, he’s four and thre
e-quarters, so he can go to big school next year. I’m happy for him to be a bit old for his class – he had a difficult start in life.’
‘I see. I presume you explained to the teacher about Lara being different?’
I gripped the table to stop my arm shooting out and punching Imogen. ‘Lara isn’t different. She’s perfectly normal.’
As if on cue, Lara hopped in, grabbed a biscuit and said, ‘Ribbit.’
Thomas came in behind her, scowling. ‘I’m bored, Mummy, let’s go.’
‘Not yet, darling, I’m trying to help poor Emma find her feet. She has no idea what to do in London.’ Imogen put her hand on Thomas’s shoulder. ‘Thomas goes to St David’s College. They start aged six. And from nine years old they offer weekly boarding, which Thomas does. It’s one of the best schools in the country. It has an excellent equestrian centre. You should put Yuri down for it. Of course, it’s impossible to get into, the waiting list is never-ending, but …’ Imogen paused for effect ‘… I’m one of the governors, so I could get him a place next year.’
As if I would consider sending my angel boy to some horsy boarding school with his wretched older cousin. Did she think I was completely certifiable?
‘He wouldn’t last a day.’ Thomas snorted. ‘A midget like him couldn’t handle St David’s.’
‘Do not call him a midget,’ I snapped.
‘All right, dwarf.’
‘Yuri is not a dwarf!’ I was now sitting on my hands because I didn’t trust myself. I was definitely going to punch someone.
‘There’s no need to be so defensive, Emma,’ Imogen said. ‘The child is extremely small.’
I turned on her. ‘My son is not a midget or a dwarf. He had a shitty start in life at the orphanage, but he is growing all the time, and although he may never be ten feet tall, the doctors have assured me that he will end up being of average height.’
Thomas took a biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth. ‘Your house smells.’
‘It just needs to be aired.’
‘It stinks.’
So do you, you little brat, I thought darkly.
Yuri came in. ‘Mummy, can I have a biccie?’
I swept him onto my lap, inhaling the scent of his hair. ‘Of course you can, pet.’
Imogen leant over. ‘Yuri, wouldn’t you like to go to the same school Thomas goes to one day? It’s a boarding school. You sleep there from Monday to Friday. Doesn’t that sound like fun?’
Yuri shook his head vigorously. ‘Please don’t send me away, Mummy.’
I put my arms around him protectively. ‘I’d never send you away. You’re my lucky charm.’
‘Mollycoddling boys is bad for them, Emma, mark my words. You don’t want him to turn into a mummy’s boy. He’ll be bullied at school.’
I hugged Yuri closer. If I could, I’d never let him out of my sight. I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was the twins, followed by the hopping frog, who was beginning to look a bit sweaty in her polyester frog suit.
‘Uhm, Aunt Emma, we’re trying to play with Lara, but she doesn’t seem to be able to speak. Is “ribbit” the only word she knows?’
I shrugged. ‘What can I say? She’s a Method actor.’
After insulting my house and my children, Imogen left to take her own children horse-riding. Naturally.
I shut the door and breathed a sigh of relief. James’s sister-in-law would have to be discouraged from calling again. She brought out a very violent streak in me. Why couldn’t Henry have married a sweet English rose? How on earth had Imogen managed to get James’s brother, a lovely guy, to marry her? It remained a complete mystery to me. James reckoned she must be incredible in bed. I doubted it, unless she was very bendy from all the horse-riding. Maybe they did role plays: Imogen was the jockey and Henry was the stallion and they used props, like riding boots and hats and whips … The thought made me giggle and feel nauseous in equal measure.
‘Mummy.’ The frog finally spoke. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘Lara, why didn’t you speak when your cousins were here?’
Lara pulled her frog mask off. ‘Because frogs don’t talk.’
‘I know, pet, but now Imogen thinks you can’t speak.’
‘Actually, Mummy, I don’t like her, she’s very shouty.’
‘Me too,’ Yuri agreed, nodding emphatically. ‘And I don’t want to go to Thomas’s school. Promise you won’t make me go there, pinkie promise.’
I hugged them both. ‘I will never, ever, ever send you to the same school as Thomas, and we’re not going to see Imogen or your cousins often because we’re going to avoid her like the plague.’
‘What does “avoid like a pague” mean?’ Yuri asked.
‘It means that we’re going to be too busy to answer the phone or call over to her.’ I was rewarded with two grateful smiles. ‘Now, come on, let’s get dressed and go exploring.’
4
Several days later, when I had cleaned the house from top to bottom, hung the paintings and bought a big rug for the living room, I decided it was time to make an effort with the neighbours. I really needed to make some friends before the children started at nursery school so I wouldn’t go mad with loneliness.
I called into the house on our left, but there was no answer, so we went to the house on our right, number seven. I rang the doorbell. A supermodel opened the door. She was tall, slim, tanned, with cascading dark hair and green eyes. She was wearing teeny-tiny denim shorts and a bikini top.
‘Yez, can I ’elp you?’ she asked, in the sexiest French accent this side of Brigitte Bardot.
‘Hi, I’m Emma. I’ve just moved in next door. Do you live here?’
‘Yez. I am the au pair of theez family.’
‘Oh, right, OK.’ Thank God for that. I didn’t fancy befriending a mother whose thighs were the same width as my middle finger. ‘Is the mum around?’
‘No, she eez shopping. She like to shop very much. I think she will be back at about five o’clock, but I am not definite about theez.’
‘No problem. Will you just tell her I popped over to say hi?’
‘OK.’ The supermodel closed the door.
‘Mummy, she looked like a princess!’ Even Lara was impressed.
‘I know. But she’s not the mummy, she’s the minder.’ I didn’t want Lara thinking that any mother looked like that.
‘I want a minder like her,’ Lara said.
‘Come on, let’s go home and have some ice-cream.’ I wanted to distract Lara from the stunning au pair. I wanted to distract myself from her, too – she had reminded me of someone I’d rather forget.
I’d always felt really secure in my marriage. James was solid, steady and devoted to me. He was very English – reserved and measured – and had always loved my Irish lack of restraint and impulsiveness. I felt safe with James. But then one day, about five months ago, I’d called on him at work at the Ireland training ground. I wanted to show him a painting I’d bought. When I arrived I saw him talking to a young woman. She was wearing tight leggings and an Ireland sweatshirt – not very flattering, but you could tell she had a killer body underneath. Even from a distance, I could tell he was trying to impress her. I could see how animated he was. He was telling some story and she was laughing hard. I knew it couldn’t have been that funny, because James is no comedian. She had her hand on his arm and she was leaning into him and he was leaning towards her, too. You could tell from a mile away that they liked each other. There was an intimacy about them that stopped me in my tracks.
Lucy did point out that it wasn’t as if I’d found him having hot sex with someone in the storage cupboard, but I still felt sick. I could see he was flirting with her. You know when your husband fancies someone … because he acts the way he did when he used to fancy you.
When I came up behind them, James jumped and then went a bit red in the face. He hadn’t been expecting me and was suddenly flustered. He introduced me to this Mandy person. She was at least ten years younger than me and a whole lot mor
e pert. Her boobs still stood up and her face was almost devoid of lines.
I put out my hand and shook hers very firmly – if I’m being honest, I crushed it a bit. Well, a woman has to stand her ground. I wanted Mandy to be under no illusions as to who she was up against. ‘And what do you do, Mandy?’ I asked.
‘I’m a physio,’ she said, shaking her bouncy ponytail.
‘Really? And how long have you been working with James?’
‘About two months,’ she said. ‘He’s been so great to me, showing me the ropes and making sure I feel included in the squad. And he’s so funny – you must laugh all the time at home. You’re so lucky.’
Two months! Two months this flirtation had been going on and James had never mentioned any new physio coming into the squad. And who the hell was Mandy to tell me how lucky I was? And James wasn’t that funny. He could be amusing sometimes but not hysterically so, like she was making out. I was furious and, actually, I felt threatened and suddenly very insecure.
‘Well, I’d better go. I’ll see you later at training, James. Nice to meet you, Emily.’
‘It’s Emma,’ I said.
‘Oops, sorry.’ Mandy bounced off, leaving me seething with a shifty-looking James.
I turned to my hilarious husband. ‘So how come you never mentioned Mandy before?’
He shrugged. ‘What’s to say? She’s one of the new physios, that’s all.’
I glared at him. ‘I think there’s a lot to say, actually. She seems to find you very amusing. Apparently you went out of your way to make sure she felt at home. You seem to have taken a very keen interest in her.’
James dug his hands into his tracksuit pockets. ‘I always try to make new people feel comfortable.’
‘Oh, she seems very comfortable to me. You’re doing a great job there. She looks very at home.’
‘She’s a good physio and fun to be around. All the guys love her.’
I bet they do, I thought grimly. ‘Is that right? Well, bully for her.’ I tried to keep my voice neutral. I didn’t want James to see how rattled I was. I wanted to be calm … but, unfortunately, that is not in my nature.
‘Do you fancy her?’ I blurted out.
Mad About You Page 3