‘Do you mind if I call in again?’
‘Why would I?’ She smiled.
‘You’re pretty cool, Sara,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you live here.’
He lifted his foot off the wall, and, standing up, he leant forward with his right hand. Gently, he rubbed his fingers over the skin of her forehead. ‘You’ve got a mark,’ he said. ‘Just here.’
Chapter Twenty
‘I hate her,’ the angry voice proclaimed. ‘I want to chop her up into little pieces and feed her to the fishes.’
‘Who?’ Sara asked, although she already knew.
‘Karina,’ Emily said. ‘You’ve no idea, Mum, what she’s like. She resents absolutely every tiny thing about me – Dad said I could have whichever bedroom I wanted in the new flat and I was free to stay over any time, but now she says I can’t because she needs my bedroom to keep all her bloody clothes and shoes in. She has millions, and she’s moved all the stuff I left with Dad out, just plonked it in a cupboard, not even folding anything. She doesn’t think about anyone else, ever. It’s just me, me, me.’
‘Not even Dad?’ Sara couldn’t resist saying.
‘Oh, she’s all over Dad,’ Emily spat out the words. ‘It’s sickening. I hate seeing her with him. She’s always pawing him, holding his hand, smoothing his hair, picking bits of fluff off his jacket. It’s all look, I own this person, he’s mine, not yours. Like we’re in competition or something. She’s so childish. And Dad just takes it. Well, he used to, but I think he’s starting to get fed up with her as well. She’s so self-centred, she spends hours and hours gazing at herself in the mirror and she’s always in the bathroom. The apartment is like totally covered in her stuff, not just clothes and shoes but beauty products and magazines. You know how tidy Dad likes everything, really anal? Well, he’s always picking things up after her. Can you imagine that? And she never cooks, when I go over we always have to eat out and Dad says he’s going to run out of money at this rate. And he’s bought her a car, a black Porsche like his. It’s enough to make you vomit.’
Sara had to stop herself laughing at her daughter’s sulky voice. She felt for Emily, she really did, but there was a hint of come-uppance. ‘Do they have matching number plates? His and hers? How charming.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me. And Dad looks really knackered, Mum. She wants to go out every night and stay up late and she’s always complaining that Dad isn’t enough fun, although she seems perfectly happy spending his money. They’re forever going to expensive restaurants.’
‘She does work for him,’ Sara pointed out.
‘Supposedly,’ Emily said, her voice full of venom. ‘She seems to spend most of her time shopping or having her bloody nails done. I’m not going to Mauritius. I told Dad last night. I can’t face it, it would be just so ghastly watching her drooling over him and there’d be no escape. Plus the fact that the last thing she wants is me tagging along, she’s made that clear. Actually, that’s about the only reason to go, just to piss her off. But I still couldn’t bear it. Lottie said I could go round Europe with her but that’ll be so studenty, staying in youth hostels and stuff, gross. And now it’s too late to arrange anything with my friends. Work is driving me round the bend. I’m doing ten-hour days and I earn a pittance. Honestly, nothing is going right at the moment.’
‘It’s your first job,’ Sara pointed out. ‘You can’t expect to earn a fortune, and journalism always means working long hours.’
‘I know, I know, don’t nag. Dad and I had a big row last night.’ Her voice dropped. ‘I said I was sick of seeing him running round after her and that she was the most selfish person I’ve ever met.’
‘I bet that went down well.’
‘Not very. Dad said it was none of my business, which is really rich, isn’t it? I mean I’m his daughter, I’m perfectly entitled to my opinion. But he won’t listen to me. I just hope he gets more and more irritated by her. And she’s so . . .’
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
There was a long pause. ‘Come on, Emily, spit it out. She’s so what?’
‘Such a baby,’ Emily said quickly. Sara realized that wasn’t what she had been about to say at all.
‘Emily, is there anything you’re . . .’
‘It drives me mad. She’s such a princess. I was working on a late shift yesterday so I nipped round first thing in the morning to see Dad before work. He took ages to answer the door – I still haven’t got my own key – and – well. She expected me to make her coffee, like I was her slave or something.’
‘Doesn’t Dad mind her being so lazy? We all used to run around after him.’
‘He’s put up with it so far, it’s so weird, although she seems to realize she can’t push him too far. When he gets cross with her she has this way of looking up at him from under her eyelashes, as if to say, poor little me, and you just know she’s got him wrapped round her little finger. It’s like she has some kind of hold over him.’
Which she clearly does, Sara thought, sexually, but she could hardly say this to Emily.
‘So work’s not going well?’
‘No it isn’t. It’s so bloody boring having to be there all the time.’
‘But that’s what having a job is like,’ Sara said patiently.
‘Fat lot you know,’ Emily said rudely. ‘You never even worked full time.’
‘I did, actually, before you were born. I do know what it’s like.’
‘Yeah, but you didn’t face the prospect of years and years of this, endless crappy pay and hardly any holidays. Honestly, I’m going to find a rich man and marry him. Roll on the money from Dad’d trust, I say.’
‘But having a career is important,’ Sara said. ‘Trust me, I wish I’d spent more time establishing my career before I had you two. I’m glad I could be at home with you when you were little but I should have returned to work, even if it was only part time. It’s so hard getting back into the workplace after such a long time at home.’
‘Do you really wish you hadn’t given up work?’ Emily’s voice was surprised.
‘Yes, I do. I think it’s important you have something for yourself so you aren’t beholden to someone else. Stick at it, Emily. You can’t rely on Dad for ever, you know. You’re a grown-up, you have your own life. I thought Dad said he was going to buy you a flat.’
‘Hmm, that’s gone suspiciously quiet and I bet Karina has something to do with it, she doesn’t want Dad to spend money on anyone but her. I wish you and Lots weren’t so far away,’ she added suddenly.
But it’s been your choice not to come and see us, Sara thought impatiently, but didn’t say anything. You sided with Dad and you haven’t once asked me how I am feeling.
‘I think I’m going to go off travelling,’ Emily said sulkily. ‘Take a year off.’
‘What would that solve?’ Sara asked.
‘It would be fun.’
‘Undoubtedly, but you’re already had a gap year before university and you’d have to come back eventually and start all over again at the bottom, when everyone you left behind had been working their way up in your absence. Besides, when you go away for a long time, it is really hard to settle when you get back. Especially if you haven’t established a career properly.’
‘How do you know?’
‘A friend told me,’ she said.
‘Which friend?’ Emily asked suspiciously.
‘A new friend,’ Sara said.
‘What’s it like down there?’ Her voice was curious.
‘Noisy and dusty,’ Sara said. ‘I’ve got the builders in. You should have come before I started the renovations. You’d hate it at the moment, we’re camping in a cloud of dust and everything we eat seems to be covered in a layer of grit. I’m sure Lottie’s going to Europe to get away from all the mess.’
‘It’s good about Bristol, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, we were thrilled,’ Sara said. It suddenly struck her that saying ‘we’ was ludicrous. It was as if their
family had been split in half. ‘Do come soon, never mind the mess,’ she said. ‘We miss you so much.’
There was a pause at the end of the phone. ‘I really miss you, too,’ Emily said in a very small voice. ‘I hate this. You have no idea . . .’
‘We can’t change the situation, darling. You just have to make the best of it. It’s one of those things.’
Emily laughed. ‘That’s a very Granny thing to say. I’m sick of being a grown-up,’ she said. ‘It sucks.’
‘Don’t make any rash decisions,’ Sara said. ‘Look, Lottie and I are going to look at Bristol next week, before she goes on holiday, just to have a wander around and maybe look at halls, that kind of thing. Could you take a day off and meet us?’
‘That would be cool.’ She hesitated. ‘There is something I think I need to talk to you about.’
‘What?’ Sara asked, alarmed.
‘I can’t talk about it on the phone. It’s kind of – complicated. I’m not sure. I’d really love to see you both – could we make it Wednesday?’
‘That would be lovely. Are you sure you can’t tell me now?’
‘No.’
Chapter Twenty-one
‘I wish I could live here,’ Lottie said, looking up at the beautiful, honey-coloured Georgian terraced houses set around a square, with a leafy communal garden in the centre.
‘I bet you do,’ Sara said, consulting the directions the rental agency in the students’ union had given them. ‘But the halls we are looking for are not, unsurprisingly, in this area. We go to the end of this street,’ she turned the little photocopied map upside down, ‘turn left and keep walking for about a mile. But these houses are gorgeous, aren’t they?’
‘Fabulous,’ Lottie said dreamily, running her hand over the black railings. ‘I wonder if Dad would buy me a house here? Bugger halls. It would be like living in a Jane Austen novel.’
‘I doubt even Dad would run to a four-storey Georgian terrace in Clifton,’ Sara said sharply. ‘Anyway, there’s no point buying anywhere too soon, you need to be into halls to make friends. That was part of the problem last time, wasn’t it, you isolated yourself.’
‘It was mostly from being somewhere really crap and depressing in the first place,’ Lottie said, swinging on the railings. ‘This is totally different. I can tell I am going to be happy here.’
‘Come on,’ Sara said. ‘We’ve only got an hour before we’re due to meet Emily.’
Lottie saw Emily first, as they ducked their heads under a low beam at the entrance to the restaurant. She was standing at the bar, and, as Lottie called her name, she put the mobile phone she’d been checking for messages back into her handbag and turned towards them.
Sara’s first thought was that she had lost weight – too much. Emily was wearing a white and blue flowery halter-neck dress, and it was hanging off her. She had always been plumper than Lottie, although never fat. Now Sara could see her clearly defined collarbones, like little chicken wings poking through her skin, and her arms were like matchsticks. She looked very tired too – as Sara moved nearer to her she could see the dark shadows under Emily’s eyes. Although their hair was a different colour, she and Lottie now looked much more similar. But beside Lottie’s healthy tan and shining hair, Emily seemed pallid, fragile. It was only two months since Sara had seen her daughter, but the change in her appearance was remarkable. Sara felt a stab of guilt. Should she have insisted that Emily take time off work to come and stay in Cornwall? Or should she have come to London to see her? It was awkward as she had nowhere to stay, but she could have slept on the floor at Emily’s rented flat. What did comfort matter? I have been blinded by my hurt at your support of your father, Sara thought. Which is neither mature, nor the way a mother should feel. You come first, not me.
‘I love you,’ she murmured, pressing her lips against Emily’s cheek, breathing in her perfume, the fragility of her skin. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ Her heart felt so full she could barely swallow.
‘I love you too,’ Emily said, biting her lip. Sara looked into her shadowed eyes. With a trembling hand, she wiped the tip of a red-nailed finger underneath her eye, tears smudging the line of mascara. Sara leant forward and gently rubbed the mark away.
Emily rested in her mother’s arms, her body curiously lifeless, as if completely exhausted. Then she pulled away, blinking, and forced a smile which did not reach her eyes. ‘God, you two are so brown,’ she said. ‘You must spend every day sunbathing. It’s all right for some. Look at me. Not a hint of colour. I have to spend all week inside, slaving away. Honestly, Lots, I can’t wait for you to start work. It’s dreadful.’ At the end of the sentence her voice cracked, and she glanced away from them. Lottie looked at her mother in alarm, raising her eyebrows.
‘We have been lucky with the weather this summer,’ Sara admitted, keeping her tone light. She reached down to take hold of Emily’s hand, squeezing it hard. ‘I can even work in the garden if I want to, I just take the laptop and a mobile outside. We’re walking a lot, too – Hector loves it, we can go for miles on the cliffs. He didn’t at first, but he’s so fit now you wouldn’t recognize him. He looks years younger.’
Emily’s bottom lip trembled. ‘I miss Hector,’ she said. Rather than taking away her hand, she held on tight to her mother, and Sara thought, I must never let you go. Never again. I love you, her hand clenched around Emily’s repeated. Love you, love you. Do not doubt it.
Lottie looked sceptically at her sister. ‘Really? You used to say he was a useless waste of space and so smelly he must have his own eco system.’
‘I didn’t mean it. I miss him now. I miss . . . lots of things,’ she added, looking into Sara’s eyes. She took a deep breath, slid her hand out of her mother’s and rested it on the bar. Sara noticed it was shaking. ‘How’s your new job, Mum? Is it fun?’
‘Not fun, exactly,’ Sara replied. ‘Most of the time it’s like banging your head against a brick wall, trying to get money out of companies and convince them it will do their image good to sponsor the trust. I had planned to approach other charities but I’m so busy I haven’t time at the moment.’
Emily’s smile was brittle. ‘Really? Can we have a drink? I haven’t ordered one yet. I was waiting for you and you’re late.’
‘Mum’s gone all ecologically friendly,’ Lottie said grinning. ‘We have to, like, recycle everything and she threw away some of my make-up last week because she thought it might have been tested on animals.’
‘We must tread lightly on the planet,’ Sara said. ‘It’s my new mantra. Of course we can have a drink. What do you want? Wine?’
‘Mm. Just a glass though, I have to drive home . . . back to London.’
Lottie raised her eyebrows at Emily. ‘See? Mantra? We have a New Age mother.’
‘You do look different,’ Emily said, looking her mother up and down. ‘You’ve lost weight.’ She seemed to be regaining her poise, but Sara could not rid herself of the urge to snatch up her daughter, bundle her into the car and take her home where she could run her a bath, put a hot water bottle into her bed and feed her hot Ribena, as she’d always done when she was ill or off colour as a child. I need to take care of you, she thought. No one is looking after you. Perhaps, she thought, you only stop being a child when you have one of your own.
‘A little,’ Sara nodded. ‘Although not enough.’
‘And bought some new clothes, I see.’
‘Lottie helped me.’
A flash of jealousy crossed Emily’s face. ‘They suit you,’ she said generously.
‘A compliment?’ Sara smiled.
‘Don’t get carried away. I don’t mean you look ten years younger or anything, but you do look – good. Three glasses of dry white wine, please. Thanks. Dad . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Nothing. I’ve found us a table, by the way, on the terrace. I thought we’d sit outside, it’s so lovely and sunny.’ They each reached forward to take a glass, and Emily led them out of the bar.
<
br /> As they followed her, Lottie whispered in her mother’s ear. ‘There’s something up with Em. She’s being polite. And why is she so thin? She’s never been thin. I’m the thin one.’
‘Mum’s fallen in love with a young bloke,’ Lottie remarked casually, as their starters arrived. Emily looked at her mother in horror. The waitress, who was serving them at the time, smiled down at Sara as if to say, ‘Good for you, honey.’
‘No! Please tell me you haven’t found a toy boy. That would be gross.’
Sara smiled. ‘I have not got myself “a young bloke”, thank you, Lottie. There’s just a . . . a young man, in the village, who calls round occasionally and we chat.’
‘He’s dreamy,’ Lottie said, spearing a prawn. ‘You’d love him, Em. He’s got long dark hair and great big eyes like a spaniel, just your type. Fit, too, he’s an amazing surfer.’
‘How did you meet him?’ Emily asked.
‘We bumped into him. Literally.’ Sara said. ‘He stopped me from being run over in the street. He works in a café in Fowey, the pretty town where the trust is based. You’ll love it, Emily it’s very “you”. Then we found out he lives in our village. Anyway, Lottie’s exaggerating. We hardly know him.’
‘What a weird thought. You being friends with someone our age.’
‘He’s older than you, actually. Anyway, why?’ Sara asked. ‘Surely age is purely relative.’
Emily raised her eyebrows. ‘No it isn’t. How old is he, anyway?’
‘Thirty-one,’ Sara said.
‘I didn’t know that!’ Lottie was indignant. ‘You never told me you’d asked him his age.’
‘You never asked me. Besides, I don’t have to tell you everything, you know. I do have a private life,’ she smiled.
‘No you don’t,’ Lottie said. ‘You’re our mother. Actually, Em, there is a big difference in the old mother.’ She turned to look at Sara. ‘You’re more relaxed about things, generally, aren’t you, Mum?’
Sara smiled back at her. ‘I think I’ve needed to be, don’t you?’
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