‘Do you think I’m bigger since you saw me, Granny?’ Yuri’s brown eyes begged his grandmother to say yes.
Mum squeezed his cheek. ‘The minute I saw you, I knew you’d grown. Sure you’re flying up. But you need to eat healthy food.’
Lara hopped from one foot to the other. ‘Guess what? I can count to twenty. Claire teached me.’
‘Taught you,’ Mum corrected her. ‘Good for Claire.’
‘And she teached me how to do a jigsaw with twenty pieces all by myself,’ Lara added.
‘Claire sounds like a gem,’ Mum noted.
‘Why don’t you go and do your jigsaw now and show it to us when you’ve finished?’ I suggested. Lara ran out, keen to impress her grandparents.
‘Take your time, Lara, no need to rush it.’ Dad put his paper down and poured milk into the coffee Mum had made for him.
‘I can do a fifty-piece one,’ Yuri told his granddad.
‘Even better,’ Dad said. ‘Off you go.’
Yuri galloped after his sister.
I quickly tidied up the kitchen counter and wiped the table free of crumbs. ‘Sorry about the terrible welcome. We’ll go for a nice lunch later.’
‘What time is the match?’ Dad asked.
‘I think it’s a three o’clock kick-off, but I’ll call James and double check.’
‘Don’t be bothering him. I’m sure he’s in the middle of pre-match training. I’ll Google it here.’
Mum sniffed. ‘Google this and Google that. Since he got that annoying iPhone, he never has a conversation with me any more. He’s got his nose stuck in it from morning till night. And, of course, there’s no mention of the ozone layer when he’s charging it every night.’
I nibbled absentmindedly on a biscuit.
Mum looked at me closely. ‘You’re exhausted and a bit rounder about the waist. Lord, Emma! Don’t tell me you’re pregnant. You’re far too old to be having more children.’
‘First of all, I am not pregnant. Second, you’re one to talk – you had Babs at forty.’
Mum pursed her lips. ‘And look how well that turned out! I didn’t have the energy to discipline her and she’s wild.’
She had a point there. If only she knew how wild. I concentrated on sipping my coffee and steered the conversation away from Babs. ‘You can relax, Mum. I’m not planning on having any more children.’
‘Good. I don’t think you’d be able for any more. You seem to find two difficult enough.’
‘No, I don’t. I just –’
Mum cut across me: ‘Why do you look so shattered? Were you out gallivanting last night?’
‘No, I just slept badly.’
‘Two o’clock kick-off,’ Dad announced, waving his phone.
‘Plenty of time to smarten yourself up for your husband,’ Mum said to me. ‘Now, why don’t you go off and get your hair done? We’ll mind the children.’
‘Really?’ I was thrilled at the prospect of an hour to myself.
‘What?’ Dad didn’t like this plan. If I was gone, he’d have to do some actual childminding rather than being Grumpy Granddad in the corner.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, we haven’t seen the little dotes in ages. Get your nose out of that paper and turn your phone off,’ Mum snapped.
Before they could change their minds I ran upstairs, flung on tracksuit bottoms and a fleece jacket and sprinted out of the house.
When I got back from the salon, I found Dad watching Tangled, with Lara howling the songs into his ear. Mum was in the kitchen with Yuri, reading him stories from his Batman comic.
‘Much better,’ Mum said, when she saw me. ‘Now you just need to find something smart to wear. I see the diet hasn’t started yet.’
I sat down and stroked Yuri’s hair. ‘It’s been stressful settling in.’
‘Fair enough, but you’d need to get on with it. Be nice to lose it before Christmas – and it’s not that far away.’
I was tempted to tell Mum I was lonely but I didn’t want to worry her, especially as she was soon going to find out that her younger daughter was pregnant with a married man’s child.
‘How is James getting on in his new job?’ Mum asked. Yuri climbed down from her lap and carried his comic to his granddad.
‘Well, I think. He spends all of his time there – he’s always working late. He’s really uptight about this match, but maybe if they win today he’ll relax a bit.’
‘I can understand him being stressed. It can’t be easy training all those lads and managing all the personalities.’
‘They seem to like him. One of the players has been sending him texts saying “I really fancy you” and “You have a great bum”, that kind of thing. He’s going to nip it in the bud. You can’t be too friendly with the players – you need distance.’
‘That sounds very odd,’ Mum said. ‘Whoever is sending them needs to be told off. James is the boss. He should be treated with respect. Does he know which player it is?’
‘None of them owned up when he asked them. They all denied it.’
‘And you say the texts are about fancying him?’
I nodded.
Mum shook her head. ‘I don’t like the sound of that, Emma. I think someone else could be sending them.’
I looked at her in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’
Mum sipped her tea. ‘James is a very handsome, charming man. I’m sure there’s many a lady whose head would be turned by him. I’d keep an eye on that texting if I was you.’
‘Do you think James is lying to me?’
‘Of course not, but it’s possible that those messages could be from a woman who likes him.’
‘But he said –’
Mum shook her finger in front of my face. ‘Now don’t go off on one of your tangents and start dreaming up all sorts of problems for yourself. It’s probably nothing, but I’m just saying you need to mind your husband. A lot of women out there would gladly run off with him.’
‘I do mind him, Mum. I’m a very good wife, actually. Haven’t I just moved country for him?’
‘That’s what wives do, Emma. They support their husbands – and they don’t get medals for it,’ she said pointedly.
‘Not all wives, Mum. Lucy’s moved here to start a new job that’s going to make her millions. Donal didn’t follow her.’
Mum looked unconvinced. ‘Lucy would need to be careful, too. No man likes to be alone. Men are no good on their own – they always seek out a woman. They like to be minded.’
‘What about us? Don’t we women get a say? I’d like to be minded. I’d like to come home to a clean house and a cooked dinner every night after work.’
Mum shrugged. ‘You can say what you want about the world changing and equality and all of that, but it comes down to human nature, Emma. Men do not like being alone, and a wife who doesn’t look after her husband will lose him. Mark my words, I’ve seen it happen. And your forties are the most dangerous time of all.’
I hadn’t heard anyone say that before. ‘Really? Why?’
‘Mid-life crisis, I suppose. Your children aren’t babies any more so they don’t need you as much. You’re getting more sleep, you’ve got energy again and you know that the next big birthday is fifty, and fifty is old. People see their forties as the last hurrah. And not just men, women too. A lot of marriages go awry during your forties.’
I thought about my own friends. So far most of them seemed to be holding it together, except Lucy and Donal. No one had ever told me my forties would be a dangerous decade. ‘Did many of your friends have affairs, Mum?’
‘Some.’ She was being deliberately vague. I knew she’d never tell me who.
‘Did the partners forgive them or did they break up?’
‘About half and half, I’d say. Marriage isn’t easy, Emma. It’s a long, bumpy road and it’s not for the faint-hearted.’
So far my marriage had been quite smooth. We’d struggled to have children, but that had brought us closer. We’d fought, like mos
t couples, and when the children came along and we were up all night, we’d snapped at each other because we were tired. But I had always felt loved and secure. James came from a solid background, his parents had been together for almost fifty years, and he believed in marriage and family. I knew there were times when I drove him nuts, but I had never felt for a second that he’d leave me. When I heard stories of women finding out their husbands were cheating, I always assumed their marriages must have been in crisis, or the husbands were the cheating kind. James was so solid and steady. I had always trusted him … until the day I’d seen him with Mandy, but I was pretty sure that had been just a little flirtation. Hadn’t it? Now I was worried. I could hear Poppy warning me to be careful, too, just like Mum. Could those texts have been from a woman?
Mum patted my arm. ‘Don’t worry, Emma. I’m just saying that marriages need work. But keep an eye on those texts. Now, upstairs with you, and we’ll find you something decent to wear. I want you to give me that tracksuit. It’s going straight in the bin.’
We went up to my bedroom, where Mum riffled through my wardrobe.
‘Mum, I’m forty years old. I know what to wear,’ I objected.
Mum spun around, holding a pair of beige leather shorts I had bought in the sales the year before. ‘Clearly not!’
‘I’ve never worn them. They were a mistake.’
‘You can say that again.’ Mum kept rummaging. ‘Emma, there comes a stage in a woman’s life where anything above the knee just looks cheap.’ She turned again, holding a midnight blue wrap dress this time. ‘Here we go. This colour is good on you. It doesn’t clash with your hair.’
She was right. ‘Now I know where Babs gets her talent for styling from.’ We laughed.
‘She should be here soon,’ Mum said, looking at her watch.
‘What?’ There was no way Babs would be anywhere near Mum at the moment. ‘She isn’t coming, Mum.’
‘Oh yes she is. I sent her a text last night and told her to be here at twelve sharp or I’d go over to her flat and drag her out. I want to see her. I’m worried about her. She’s been avoiding me. She said she’d come.’
God, I hoped Babs would be able to hold it together and not give anything away. I’d been texting her every night after work to see if she was OK and had been getting the usual ‘I’m fine’ answers back. But that wouldn’t cut it with our mother, certainly not in the flesh.
I tried the dress on. It was a bit tight around the waist.
‘Have you got those suck-you-in pants?’ Mum asked.
‘Yes, lots of them.’ Sighing, I opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of flesh-coloured Spanx. I went into the bathroom and wrestled them on. When I caught sight of myself in the mirror, I stopped dead. I looked an utter fright.
Mum barged in. ‘Come on, we haven’t got all day. Your father’s complaining about being hungry. Lord, those are awful-looking things. Mind you, they do suck you in. My advice to you is to take them off privately. Men don’t need to know our secrets. A bit of mystery is no harm at all.’
I thought back to the day I’d bought them. When I’d got home, I’d put them on and stuck one of James’s gum shields in my mouth. When he arrived home, I had jumped out and paraded up and down in front of him, doing Sumo wrestler poses and laughing hysterically. He had laughed, too. But maybe he’d been thinking, My God, she looks a state. Maybe Mum was right: perhaps I needed to keep a bit of mystery.
Mum tied the belt on the dress and took a step back. ‘Much better. You look very nice. Now go and do your makeup. I’ll get the children ready.’
I layered my makeup, hiding the dark circles with concealer, giving colour to my pasty cheeks with a light pink blusher and opening up my tired eyes with mascara and eye-shadow.
Twenty minutes later, we were in the hall with our coats on. As we opened the front door to head out to a pre-match early lunch, Babs walked up the garden path.
‘About time you turned up to say hello to your parents,’ Mum huffed.
Babs was wearing her trademark dark glasses and a white fur jacket with skinny jeans and thigh-high black leather boots.
‘Interesting get-up.’ Dad took in the outfit. ‘Bit much for the side-lines, I would have thought.’
Babs patted his cheek. ‘Coming from a man wearing a brown duffel coat he bought in the 1970s, I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘Apparently these are very trendy now,’ Dad said.
‘In whose world? The golf-club gang’s?’ Babs snorted.
‘The boots are ludicrous. Take them off – you look like a street-walker,’ Mum ordered Babs. ‘Emma can lend you shoes.’
‘Emma wears granny-shoes. I wouldn’t be seen dead in flat boots.’
I was relieved to hear Babs sounding more like her usual self. I gave her a smile, and she smiled back. Then she grasped my arm and murmured, ‘Please don’t leave me on my own with Mum.’
‘Forget about the bloody shoes,’ Dad snapped. ‘For the love of God, can we go and get something to eat before I start gnawing my own arm off?’
We walked to the high street, aiming for a little restaurant called Cinnamon. On the way we bumped into Poppy, whose clothes would have given Babs a run for her money. She was wearing tight black leather trousers, high wedge-heeled ankle boots and a black fur gilet over a white shirt. She looked overdressed, but very sexy. I felt frumpy beside her. I introduced her to my parents and sister.
‘Very nice to meet you all,’ Poppy said, in her beautiful cut-glass accent. ‘I’m afraid I can’t shake your hands, I’ve just had my nails done.’ She wiggled her red nails. ‘Hot date tonight.’ She winked at me.
‘Good for you,’ I said, with a grin.
‘Lovely to meet you, but we must be off,’ Dad said, determined not to let anything or anyone sidetrack us from getting to the restaurant.
‘Excuse my husband.’ Mum was embarrassed. ‘He’s hungry, and you know what men are like when they want food.’
‘Of course I do.’ Poppy smiled. ‘Nigel would have stepped on my head to get to the fridge.’
Mum laughed.
‘Where’s James?’ Poppy asked.
‘London Irish play their first Heineken Cup match today and we’re going to watch it after lunch,’ I explained.
‘No wonder he looked so serious when I saw him this morning,’ Poppy said. ‘He’s usually so friendly.’
‘Come on, ladies, enough nattering.’ Dad ushered us away.
‘Seriously!’ Babs looked at me. ‘That MILF lives next door?’
‘MILF?’ Mum asked. ‘I thought her name was Poppy?’
‘MILF stands for Mother I’d Like to Fu–’
‘Babs!’ I stopped her.
Mum’s cheeks reddened. ‘Well, I never.’
‘It’s just an expression,’ Babs said, with a wicked gleam in her eye.
‘A crude one.’ Mum was unimpressed.
‘Poppy looks good for an older woman,’ Babs commented.
‘She’s much the same age as me,’ I pointed out.
‘Really? God, she looks years younger.’
Thank you, sister.
‘She seems nice,’ Mum said. ‘But I wouldn’t get too friendly with her, Emma. She’s a bit, well …’
‘Sexy?’ Babs said.
‘Available,’ Mum said. ‘You can see she’s dissatisfied with her life.’
I stared at Mum. ‘From a ten-second meeting you can tell all that?’
‘Of course. She’s completely overdressed for a Saturday afternoon, in clothes that are too young for her. There’s an air of desperation about that. She’s obviously craving male attention. The only reason a woman craves attention is when she isn’t getting enough at home and she’s bored with her life. She’s looking for excitement.’
‘I have to say, Mum, I’m actually impressed,’ Babs admitted.
I was too. Mum had completely summed up Poppy. She smiled. ‘When you’ve been around as long as I have, you notice things.’
‘Stop
talking!’ Dad roared. ‘I don’t care if that woman is humping David Cameron in her spare time, I need food.’
‘Calm down or you’ll have a heart-attack,’ Mum remonstrated.
‘What’s “humping” mean?’ Yuri asked.
‘Walking like a camel,’ Babs told him, as Dad stormed into the restaurant and threw himself down at a table.
‘Why is Granddad grumpy?’ Lara asked.
‘Because he’s old, and when you get old, you get mean and nasty and grumpy,’ Babs said.
‘Granny’s old and she’s not grumpy,’ Lara pointed out.
Babs and I burst out laughing.
17
We had to eat quickly as Dad wanted to be at the rugby ground well before kick-off. We hustled the children onto the train, scurried from the station and got there twenty minutes early – a long time to keep two young children occupied. I’d have much preferred to spend those twenty minutes in the comfort of the restaurant.
The stadium was packed with London Irish fans, wearing dark green jerseys, and Gloucester fans, in red and white stripes. The atmosphere was fantastic. I looked for James and eventually made him out: he was sitting down in his warm black jacket and tracksuit bottoms, surrounded by men all wearing identical kit. He had an earpiece and was talking to the guy beside him, who had a laptop that he was furiously pointing to.
‘I see James is coaching from the pitch,’ Dad said. ‘It’s great the way he stays down near the players.’
I waved at James, but he didn’t see me: he was too busy concentrating.
He really was handsome, I found myself thinking. Even though he looked tired and older, he wore it well. If anything, he was even more attractive in that older-guy way. My James, my lovely James. I wondered about what Mum had said. Were we entering a dangerous decade? I’d have to keep a closer eye on him. With me working all day and looking after the kids, I really didn’t know much about his day-to-day life or the people in it. We needed to go out more together and talk. Communication was the key to a happy marriage. I wanted this handsome man to stick with me. God, I hoped Mum was wrong: I hoped someone out there didn’t fancy him.
Mad About You Page 17