The Good Mother

by Sinéad Moriarty

  ‘How are the kids? How’s my goddaughter? Beautiful and lovely as ever?’

  Kate smiled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Actually, I know more about Jess than ever now that she’s allowed me to be her friend on Facebook.’

  ‘Good. You can keep an eye on her and let me know what’s going on. She refused to let me be her friend, needless to say.’

  ‘That’s normal, Kate. No kid wants their mother spying on them on Facebook. How are the boys?’

  ‘Good. Luke got picked for the senior cup team so he’s thrilled and eating every animal he can get his hands on, alive or dead. The whole diet thing is crazy. Honestly, Maggie, he consumes cows and chickens daily.’

  Kate could hear Maggie lighting a cigarette. ‘He has to, Kate. All those rugby guys have to build up as much muscle as they can. It’s to protect themselves from the opposition who, you can be sure, are also going around eating steaks for breakfast. How’s Bobby?’

  ‘Bobby is Bobby.’

  ‘Still spouting facts and kicking things?’

  ‘Yes. He’s kicked a lot of furniture in the last two days.’ Kate filled her in on the disastrous dinner with Nick.

  ‘Oh, for the love of Jesus, would Nick grow a pair of balls and stand up to that moany cow? She’s obviously sitting in that apartment, alone all day, with leaky boobs and a sore fanny, and wondering what the hell she’s got herself into. Serves her right for shagging your husband. It’s always the same. These men have their pathetic midlife crises, start screwing some young slapper, think it’s all going to be sex on the kitchen table and blow-jobs, until the woman decides she wants a kid and it all goes tits-up. Then they realize that the wife they had was actually fantastic.’

  Kate laughed. She loved Maggie. She always made her feel better about things. It was a gift. ‘That about sums it up. I was feeling a bit gloaty about it all, but the kids are upset so I’m hoping Jenny will get herself together and let Nick see them more than once every six weeks.’

  ‘He’s their father! It’s up to him to stand up to her. Poor Bobby, though. Not nice to be shouted at.’

  ‘No, and he’s so sensitive when it comes to Nick.’

  ‘I’ll send him something to cheer him up. How’s George?’

  ‘He’s great. It hasn’t been easy for him. Mum’s been gone six years and he was used to living on his own when we landed on him. I think he finds us all a bit much at times, but he’s really good with the kids, particularly with Luke, and God knows he needs a positive male influence. He loves Jess, but I think he finds Bobby a bit trying, and patience was never Dad’s strong point. Poor Bobby, no one really understands him.’

  ‘Except you.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Is George still being chatted up by the local widows and singletons?’

  Kate laughed. ‘Yes, but he doesn’t seem interested. Anyway, enough about me, how are you?’

  ‘Good. Crazy busy. Travelling to the States a lot since I last saw you, having good casual sex with younger guys, and spending a lot of money on Botox and fillers.’

  ‘You don’t need it. You’re lovely the way you are.’

  Maggie exhaled her cigarette smoke. ‘No way! Kate, a woman breaking glass ceilings has to keep herself looking good. If I walk into meetings with men of my age looking old and wrinkled with black bags under my eyes, I’m on the back foot. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that’s the reality. If I walk in fit, fresh-faced and ready to go, they sit up and take notice.’

  ‘Come on! What about Angela Merkel? She’s not having work done on her face.’

  Maggie snorted. ‘She looks like a bloke. I’m going for the Christine Lagarde vibe.’

  Kate was ashamed to admit she wasn’t quite sure who Christine Lagarde was. That was the problem with kids and working: there was never enough time to read the papers. Even when she did have a second to herself, she was usually so tired that she’d pick up a magazine or skim the headlines in the paper but never actually read the articles. She’d Google Christine Lagarde later. ‘Well, I still think you’re lovely without all that stuff.’

  To be honest, Maggie’s face seemed a bit pulled. Her forehead was frozen. She was like one of those presenters on American TV, glittering white teeth and flawless face. She looked fabulous but, close up, it was a little fake.

  Then again, what did Kate know about anything? She hadn’t even had a bikini wax in almost a year. What was the point? They couldn’t afford to go on holidays so she didn’t need to wear swimming togs and no man was looking at her. Half the time she didn’t even bother to shave her legs. She’d only plucked her eyebrows the other day when Jess said the way they were ‘meeting in the middle’ was a bit strange. It was only when she’d seen herself in the mirror that she’d noticed the very obvious monobrow.

  That was the problem. She never looked at herself now. Not really, not closely. She climbed out of bed in the morning, got everyone fed and off to school, then helped her dad in the café, did homework with the kids, had dinner and went to bed. She avoided mirrors when she came within their range, basically ignoring herself entirely. She just didn’t want to see. She had enough going on without owning up to how terrible she looked.

  When she’d been with Nick, she’d made more of an effort with her appearance, her clothes and her weight. She peered down at her stomach: too many late-night comfort muffins. She’d have to start walking again and watch what she ate. Things were better now – the kids were happier, settled into the house and set-up. It was time for Kate to find herself again.

  ‘So, do you think you’re ready to date again?’ Maggie asked.

  ‘I’m not sure. Not yet. Maybe. No. Besides, who’d be interested? I’m a broke, boring mother of three who lives and works with her dad.’

  ‘Kate. You’re a gorgeous, interesting, kind, lovely woman. Any man would be lucky to have you … young or old.’ She laughed her husky smoker’s laugh.

  ‘How old do you think I should consider?’ Kate said, curiosity now taking hold of her.

  ‘The oldest man I’ve ever slept with was ten years older than I am, but he was very fit – he had a Liam Neeson vibe.’

  ‘There aren’t any Liam Neeson lookalikes in our area, I can tell you.’

  ‘Keep an open mind – you could go younger. My youngest was twenty-eight.’

  Kate giggled. ‘I’ll be eyeing up Luke’s friends soon.’

  ‘Why not?’ Maggie chuckled. ‘Oh, shoot, my plane’s boarding. I’d better go. Big hi to the kids, especially Jess. By the way, she said on Facebook she’s had a couple of nose bleeds. Is she all right?’

  ‘I’m a bit worried. I think she might be anaemic. She’s very pale. I reckon she needs iron. I’m taking her to the doctor tomorrow.’

  ‘Good idea. Keep me posted.’

  They said goodbye and hung up. Kate finished her now lukewarm coffee and headed upstairs to shave her legs. Tomorrow she’d book a bikini wax. It was time to move on. She needed to take control of her life and shake herself up. She wasn’t past her sell-by date. She was still relatively young and, with a bit of effort, could be attractive again, maybe even meet someone. Why not? Why was she writing herself off? Maybe this was one of the blessings in disguise that her mother used to talk about, a new chapter in her life, a happier one.

  9

  Jess was glad they were going to the doctor because she felt awful. She knew Mum was worried – she kept asking Jess if she was all right, then got that worried line between her eyes when Jess said no.

  She was fed up herself: the bruises on her legs were big and ugly and the nose bleeds were a pain. Her gym teacher said she probably needed iron. She said Jess was probably going through a growth spurt and her body needed more vitamins. Jess actually hoped that what she had was growing pains – she’d like to be taller. Chloë was five foot five already, like a supermodel. Jess was still only four foot eleven.

  ‘Now, pet, there you go.’ George put a plate of homemade pancakes in front of Jess.

/>   ‘Wow, thanks, Granddad.’

  ‘Only the best for my favourite granddaughter.’

  Jess grinned. He always said that, even though she was his only granddaughter. Jess loved her granddad. He could be a bit grumpy sometimes, but most of the time he was lovely and kind, generous and funny. But, most of all, Jess loved the way he minded her mum. You could see that he adored her. Jess supposed it was because she was his only child, and the way he looked at her made Jess’s tummy all squidgy inside.

  It was how her mum looked at her, Luke and Bobby – as if they were the sun, the moon and the stars. It was unconditional love. Her mum had told her about it one night. Jess had been upset about her dad leaving and she’d shouted at her mum that she hated her. She’d said, ‘It’s all your fault! You’re always nagging him! He hates being nagged. He said so. You made him leave.’

  Jess had felt awful after shouting. She was sick to her stomach. When she’d gone downstairs later to apologize, Mum had put her arms around her and said, ‘It’s okay.’

  Jess had asked her if she hated her now for being so mean and her mum had laughed and said, ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing you can do will make me stop loving you. It’s called unconditional love.’

  After that Jess had felt all warm inside. But she also understood that unconditional love was only between parents and kids, not mums and dads. They did not love each other unconditionally at all.

  Jess had decided to stop wishing for her parents to get back together. It was a waste of time, Chloë said. ‘Your dad’s had a kid with another woman. He’s not coming back, Jess. I’m sorry, but it’s just not going to happen and, besides, would your mum even take him back? Unlikely. My mum said that if Dad ever had an affair she’d kick him out so fast his head would spin off, and then she’d smash his sports cars with a baseball bat. She said women have to be strong and show men that they can’t be messed around.’

  Jess thought this was good advice, but Chloë’s mum was a bit scary. She was super-nice to Jess, but Jess had heard her on the phone one day to someone who had forgotten to deliver something on time and, OMG, she’d ripped their head off. Jess decided then and there never to do anything to annoy her.

  Leaving their old house and moving in with her granddad had been a good thing, after all. She felt it sort of made things clearer in her life and everyone was happier – well, everyone except Bobby, but he was never really happy.

  Jess ate some of her pancakes, while her mum and granddad bustled in and out of the café. Nathalie arrived through the back door into the kitchen for her morning shift. Jess loved Nathalie – she was so cool and dramatic in a fabulous French way. Chloë thought she was like a French version of Emma Watson.

  Nathalie threw her bag down, plonked herself opposite Jess and began picking at her pancakes. Jess didn’t mind – she wasn’t all that hungry.

  ‘How are you?’ Jess asked.

  Nathalie pouted in the coolest way. Jess and Chloë had practised in the mirror but they couldn’t do it like her. ‘Life ees sheet,’ she said, chewing a tiny piece of pancake.

  ‘Sorry to hear that. Did something happen?’

  Nathalie shrugged. ‘Men. Irish men are ridiculous. They are so stupid and immature, like leetle kids. They don’t want to ’ave a beautiful connection, to talk about poetry and the meaning of life, they just want to get drunk and ’ave sex.’

  ‘That about sums it up.’ Kate bustled in. ‘Right, Nathalie, when you’re ready you might get up and go in to help my dad. Also, please try to remember that Jess is twelve. Tone down the sex chat.’

  ‘In France we talk about sex from a young age. There is nothing to be embarrassed about.’

  Jess was bright red and utterly mortified by the whole conversation. She liked Nathalie treating her as an equal, but she did find the word ‘sex’ really cringey and she was totally embarrassed by her mother coming in at that exact moment. She put her hands up to her face to try to cool her cheeks.

  ‘Well, in Ireland we’re less free and easy with the sex chat – hence the fact that men can’t talk to women without ten pints on them,’ said Kate. ‘So, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you kept that conversation for people older than Jess.’

  Nathalie picked up her bag. ‘Fine, but you should not ’ide your children from the conversation of the beauty of sex and the satisfaction of the body.’

  ‘Thank you, Nathalie. Off you go now. You can tell my dad all about it.’ Kate grinned.

  ‘All about what?’ George stuck his head around the door.

  ‘Sex,’ Nathalie said.

  ‘Mother of Holy God, will you keep that chat to yourself! The average age of the customers in here this morning is seventy – you’ll give them heart attacks.’

  ‘Or maybe I will wake them up from the coma they are living in.’ Nathalie half smiled.

  ‘With that bit of a skirt on you, they’ll be wide awake in no time,’ George grumbled. ‘Didn’t I tell you to wear something that reached your knees? Here, put this apron on or I’ll have to invest in a defibrillator.’

  Nathalie sighed dramatically. ‘Once again the Irish men and the body. You are afraid of the woman’s form. You are all totally suppressed.’

  George held up his hand. ‘I’ll have to stop you there. Much as I enjoy these conversations about the uselessness of Irish men and their many failures, I’ve a business to run and people to serve. Now, hop it.’

  Jess and Kate giggled as Nathalie and George went into the café. Jess tidied her plate into the dishwasher, while Kate rushed around looking for keys and money.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, smiling at Jess. ‘Let’s get going while the going’s good.’

  Jess watched her mother’s face darken.

  ‘What do you mean, blood tests? Why?’

  Dr Willis smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s just a precaution. I’m a little concerned about the bruising and the nose bleeds. She might be anaemic or have a low-lying infection. I think it’s worth checking out her bloods.’

  Jess felt her mother relax. ‘Okay. She probably is a bit low on iron.’

  Dr Willis rolled up Jess’s sleeve and gently inserted the needle, chatting to Jess to distract her. He was a really nice man. Jess trusted him. He was the only doctor she’d ever been to – they’d always come to him when they were sick. He was nearly as old as Granddad and very kind. Mum had been seeing him since she was a little girl, too.

  The needle didn’t hurt as much as Jess had thought it would. It was all over quickly and they were able to leave. Her mum asked if she should give Jess iron straight away, but Dr Willis said it was best to wait and that he’d get the results as quickly as possible.

  Jess felt there was something he wasn’t saying. She couldn’t explain it exactly but she sensed that he was worried. She felt very tired, like super-tired. She wanted to go home and lie down. She hoped the blood tests would show what was wrong and that they could give her some pills and make her better.

  Kate paid and they left the surgery. Dr Willis promised to call as soon as he had some news.

  ‘Would you like to go for a hot chocolate before I bring you to school?’ Kate asked.

  Jess shook her head. ‘Actually, Mum, I feel really tired. Can I just go home and rest?’

  Kate frowned. ‘You’re very pale. You poor thing. I’ve been so distracted I haven’t paid enough attention to you. I hope you don’t have an infection, but it’ll be good to find out whatever’s wrong and get you better.’ She put her arm around Jess’s shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s get you home and into your pyjamas and cosy you up. It’ll be nice and peaceful with no Bobby to annoy you.’

  Jess leant her head into her mother’s shoulder. It was nice just being the two of them. Kate kissed her. They walked home across the village green and went through the back door. Kate went to check if George needed any help in the café while Jess went up to change into her pyjamas and dressing-gown. When she came back to the kitchen, her mum handed her a mug of hot chocolate, which she gr
atefully drank.

  ‘It’s quiet now, the lull before lunch. Can I get you anything else, pet?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. I might go up and read or watch Netflix.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  George popped his head in. ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘She had blood tests done and now she’s tired so I’ve let her off school.’

  ‘Good idea. You’re as pale as a ghost, Jess. A good rest will help. Would you like something to eat?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m going to bed to read.’

  Nathalie slunk in. ‘I am reading a fantastic book of poetry all about love and ’ow it can drive you crazy. I read one this morning on my way ’ere about a man who sets himself on fire because the woman he loves is a lesbian. If you would like to borrow it, I can lend it.’

  George threw his arms into the air. ‘Just what a twelve-year-old needs to cheer her up, a book about a fella frying himself over a lesbian. I tell you what, Nathalie, you’re going to make one hell of a psychologist when you finish that degree of yours. They’ll be queuing round the block to listen to your words of comfort and joy.’

  Jess tried not to giggle as Nathalie wagged a finger at George. ‘Irish people drink all this alcohol because they are so sad inside.’

  George put his hand on her arm. ‘This may come as a shock to you, but some people drink for a bit of fun. Not everyone who has a pint or a glass of wine is an emotional cripple.’

  Jess looked at her mum, who was smiling. It was lovely to be here with them all, listening to the funny conversations and feeling like she was a grown-up.

  Nathalie shrugged. ‘I prefer to talk rather than drink.’

  ‘I noticed that. I also noticed that you prefer to talk rather than work. Now come on.’