SEVEN
‘THREE DAYS IN York isn’t much of a honeymoon,’ Shelley said with a sniff. ‘I thought you meant New York at first. I wouldn’t mind a weekend there myself. But York … I mean to say, even me and your dad managed a week in Torquay and we thought we were really splashing out, I tell you.’
Shelley had taken to popping round to Becky and Simon’s apartment quite often, whenever she was in town, in fact, on her days off. Becky, although anxious not to rush at things, had made a few changes to it, getting rid of the uncomfortable chair for one and buying gorgeous curtains for all the windows for two. As well as that, she bought fresh flowers every week, enough to fill the four large vases she had bought. Somehow, that more than anything signified her new status, being able to afford big blooms from the florist, lots of them so that now she had a regular weekly order and was regarded as one of their special customers. Being called Mrs Blundell and given the special treatment was something she rather shamefully adored. A few further feminine touches here and there particularly in the bedroom and the place was beginning to look like a home.
Her home.
It was still a dream. She was still half expecting to land to earth with a bump. The whole wedding had been a soft-focus dream. Esther was a born organizer although clever with it for she had made sure that Shelley was consulted about everything and even took up some of her less outlandish suggestions. Becky was pleased about that for she didn’t want her mum to feel that it was all being taken out of her hands.
The caterers, two bright energetic young women, had done them proud with a delectable and definitely upmarket spread, her mum ditching all mention of fish and chips and individual custard tarts. It was a church wedding – Esther’s wish – at a pretty country church where Becky and Simon exited into a shower of rose petals. No white stretch limo this time, Shelley having been gently overruled on that one.
The Blundells’ house sat in a large garden and the weather had been kind to them so that guests could mill around in their finery before heading for the marquee. It was decked out in palest pink and white, circular tables for the guests with the bride and groom seated at the long table. Becky had felt a pang that her dad was not there to give her away and enjoy the fuss but her mother and Simon’s father Johnny, sitting together as tradition demanded, seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. Her mum’s portly brother Uncle Geoff escorting a bemused Esther had behaved himself, keeping his drinks to a minimum, and blessedly keeping the speech to a minimum too and surprising Becky when he spoke movingly of how proud her dad would have been today of his little girl. Looking across to her mum, they had exchanged a small smile and she knew that her mum was thinking about him too.
That was another day that was etched on her memory. Her mum was keen on telling the tale to anybody who cared to listen of how she had packed him off to work that day without so much as a kiss because, having overslept, they were all running late. And then, after he was gone, she realized he hadn’t taken his lunch with him so that when the police came to tell her, the first thing she had said to the policewoman was, ‘… But he can’t be dead. He hasn’t had his lunch and it was his favourite today. Tuna and tomato sandwich, a banana and a Mars bar.’
Thank goodness that this time round her mum had been persuaded to go for something simple and elegant, although she refused to compromise on the hat, which would not have looked out of place on Ladies’ Day at Ascot. Becky, too, had gone for pure understated empire-line traditional elegance this time round. Having successfully lost half a stone prior to the wedding, she felt and looked a million dollars.
Her choice of bridesmaid, just the one, met with some opposition from her mum but Marina had introduced her to Simon so you could say she was responsible for it all. But Becky knew the choice merely underlined her new status. She was moving on and up in the world, opting for a new friend instead of her old ones. She hoped the old ones would understand, the previous would-be bridesmaids, but it was telling that not one of them had accepted the invitation to the wedding as a mere guest.
‘You deserve your happiness, love,’ her mum had said that morning as she helped her get ready. ‘After all you’ve been through. The accident and all …’
Why she had been suddenly reminded of that was a mystery but it wasn’t the right moment to remind Becky for if Janet had been alive then she would have been here today. If Janet had been here then she most certainly would have been bridesmaid in place of Marina.
‘Mum …’ She had frowned into the mirror, hardly recognizing this woman in the beautiful ivory silk dress who was nervously looking back at her.
Her mum seemed determined on darkening the mood. ‘I never know what to say to Janet’s mum,’ she went on, fussing with the veil. ‘If I catch sight of her, I’m ashamed to say, Becky, that I cross the road rather than speak to her. I mean to say, what can you say?’
‘Mum, don’t. I’ve just done my make-up.’
‘Sorry, love.’ Shelley sniffed. ‘Weddings do that to me. Make me feel morbid.’
The photographs had come out well. Looking at them later, her mum had shocked her by remarking, quite matter-of-factly, that Johnny Blundell had brushed his hand across her breast as they all struggled to get into position for the group one.
‘I’m sure it was an accident,’ Becky said, noting that her mum’s smile did look a bit forced.
‘I’m not,’ her mum said.
EIGHT
‘YOU’RE QUIET, LOVE,’ Shelley said. ‘What are you thinking about or shouldn’t I ask?’
‘The wedding and everything,’ Becky said, rousing herself and reaching for the plate of biscuits.
‘Honeymoon in York!’ her mum muttered, not letting it drop. ‘Three days in York of all places. I felt I had to apologize to people when they asked. In fact, I very nearly said you’d gone to the Maldives instead. That sounded better. After all, I keep telling people how well Simon’s done for himself and everything and it’s such a let-down.’
‘It was very nice. I like York,’ Becky said. ‘Let it drop, Mum, please. I was perfectly happy with it. We had a lovely time.’
‘I should hope you did on your honeymoon.’
The biscuits having been turned down, she handed her mum a cup of coffee, her mind still on the wedding and that little episode with Johnny and her mum. She hadn’t mentioned it to Simon and she sure as anything hadn’t mentioned it to her mother-in-law although she felt certain that Esther knew very well what was what. Esther was no fool.
After a brief respite, a few months in total, her mum was smoking again but Becky had asked her not to smoke in the apartment and, surprisingly, her mum had agreed with that.
‘I don’t know why I do it,’ she said. ‘It’s a filthy habit.’
‘Why did you start again?’ Becky asked her, irritated because she had seemed to be doing so well lately. ‘You know it’s bad for you.’
‘I’ve had a lot on my mind,’ Shelley said cagily. ‘I didn’t mean to start again but one morning I’d smoked two before I realized. Anyway …’ She gave her a look. ‘I’d thought you’d have some news for me by now.’
‘What news?’ Becky asked, although she knew exactly what she meant.
‘I was hoping you’d be pregnant right off. I was hoping you’d get pregnant in York. There’s nothing wrong with a honeymoon baby.’
‘Mum, please … we’re trying,’ Becky said, feeling herself blush. And how they were trying! She was trying not to start getting too concerned about it but, like her mum, she had somehow assumed that, without any sort of protection, it would happen first time round, the first month, and it had not. And then this very morning it had not happened yet again. She had been three days late and had been starting to hope. Simon had not said anything, being really sweet about it, but she knew he, too, was disappointed and she so wanted to give him good news.
‘Oh, sorry … Oh well, it takes a bit of time sometimes. Me and your dad were taken by surprise. It happened right away. You were
a honeymoon baby. Mind you, it never happened again and we could never work out why. I’d have liked more than one. With one you’re putting all your eggs in one basket if you get my meaning. All your expectations. All your hopes.’
‘Well, thanks a lot, Mum. I hope I haven’t disappointed you.’
‘Oh, come on, don’t go snotty on me. I didn’t mean that. We couldn’t have asked for a better daughter than you, love, and that’s a fact. Your dad was ever so proud of you. He knew you’d go far.’
‘Marry into money, you mean?’
‘No, I don’t mean that. Although why not if you get the chance? Some people, some of your so-called old friends, are just jealous of your good luck if you ask me. Living here …’ She looked round contentedly. ‘And getting your little car and everything. If your Simon was about sixty and as ugly as sin then they’d have some room to talk, people like Ivana.’ She sighed. ‘She gets on my wick, that woman. Fancy buying you a baby’s rattle for your wedding present. What was that supposed to signify other than that she’s a mean so and so? It can’t have cost more than a few pounds. She’d have been better off buying you nothing at all.’
Becky smiled. ‘She’d wrapped it up very prettily. I suppose she was trying to say that she’s forgiven me at last for not letting her do my hair for the wedding. Don’t be too rough on her. The thought was there. I didn’t even expect a present from her. Maybe it’s something to do with tradition in her country.’
‘A fertility symbol perhaps.’ Her mum gave her a look. She didn’t have to say that if that’s what it was then it hadn’t done the trick. Not yet. Simon said it didn’t matter if it never happened. If they didn’t have children, he would still have her and that’s all that mattered to him. Yes, but all her friends, her old friends, had children by now, married or not, and she knew what they would be saying if she didn’t get pregnant before long. She couldn’t believe how bitchy some of them had become lately. It would suit some of them down to the ground if things went sour for her.
‘Don’t get too anxious, Becky, love,’ Shelley said, trying to smile her daughter’s worries away. ‘I’ve read that’s the worst thing you can do when you’re trying for a baby. Just relax. Why don’t you and Simon take yourself off on holiday, somewhere abroad? Relax by a pool, get some sunshine. Have a proper honeymoon this time.’
‘Simon’s very busy at work and he really couldn’t afford to take time off,’ Becky said. ‘We will go away later in the year, long haul somewhere or other. In fact, why don’t you come with us? You haven’t had a proper holiday for years. It will be our treat.’
‘No thanks.’ Shelley laughed. ‘I’m not playing gooseberry to newlyweds. I can’t believe it. Suddenly I’m very popular. Everybody’s asking me to go on holiday with them. Esther’s invited me to go away to Portugal with her and Johnny.’
‘Has she?’
‘Yes and don’t look so surprised. We get on very well, me and Esther. I forgot to tell you, we met in Marks & Spencer the other day, took ourselves off for a coffee. We had a lovely chat and not just about you and Simon. She took my advice and got those streaks in her hair.’
‘Yes, I noticed.’
Her mother put her cup down, and was reaching into a bag before she realized, zipping it up quickly with a sigh as she did.
‘I could murder a cigarette. Sometimes only a ciggy will do.’
‘Is something wrong, Mum?’
‘Oh love …’ She sighed again. ‘Now, I know she means well, Becky, asking me to go on holiday with them, but I don’t want to be too pushy. And, bless her, she has no idea what’s happening. She worships the ground that man walks on. That Johnny …’ She looked around quickly and lowered her voice as if the room was bugged. ‘There’s a bit of a situation there.’
‘What do you mean?’ Becky took a deep breath. She thought she knew exactly what her mum meant. She still hadn’t said anything to Simon, who was oblivious to it, but her father-in-law was without doubt a ladies’ man and, unfortunately, he had set his sights – what was he thinking of? – on Shelley. It was amazing that Esther hadn’t seemed to cotton on yet when it was plain as plain could be. The man was not one for subtlety, that was for sure.
‘You know what I mean. I should have known after what happened at the wedding. I mean to say, fancy picking a moment like that to touch me up when we were all harassed? It’s no better. You’ve seen him looking at me but don’t you worry, love.’ Shelley sat up straighter. ‘There’s no way I am allowing anything to happen. The bloody cheek of the man. As I say, I like Esther a lot and I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to upset her. Or you and Simon,’ she added with a small smile. ‘So, flattering as it is and I have to say he is a very handsome man for his age, it has to be hands off, mister. The trouble is the only way I can see my way out of it is to make myself scarce and put myself out of his reach otherwise it’s going to be so awkward. I’m keeping him at arm’s length but I don’t want to cause a fuss and he knows that. Esther keeps asking me over for dinner and I can’t keep coming up with excuses. So, that’s why I’ve come to a decision.’
‘Which is?’ Becky sighed, annoyed that her mother should be put in this position. It was sometimes hard to credit that Johnny Blundell was Simon’s father because, aside from a fairly obvious physical resemblance, they were like chalk and cheese as far as temperament went. Simon was much more like Esther, quiet and sometimes endearingly awkward, one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place. Sexy, too, or so she thought, so she really had the best of both worlds. He loved her to bits and nothing must spoil it. And she certainly had no intention of allowing Simon’s roving-eyed father to upset things.
‘I could see from the word go that Johnny would turn out to be a right pain in the arse before long,’ Shelley said, saying what Becky was thinking. After a brief foray into classic elegance, her mum had reverted to normal, dress-wise, the skirt a fraction too tight and too short. ‘So that’s why I have to do something drastic. It’s all come to a head this last month. I had such a shock I can tell you. He didn’t even phone me, just turned up on the doorstep as if he’d never been away. He came over, you see, when you were in York. Wanted to catch up with me, he said.’
‘Who did?’
‘You know who.’ Her mum shook her head. ‘I’m not explaining very well but it’s hard to tell you, love. I don’t know how to say it. I know you’re going to be really upset.’
‘Come on.’ Becky smiled, realizing that her mum was not finding this easy, surprised and a little bemused by the faint flush on her cheeks. ‘For goodness’ sake, Mum, you needn’t make a big deal of it. You and Johnny don’t live that close to each other. Just avoid meeting him, that’s all – alone, that is. You’re safe in company.’
‘Haven’t you been listening? That’s easier said than done and I can tell he’s got the bit between his teeth. And, to be honest, I don’t quite trust myself if he did try something. As I say, I find him attractive. I’m a young woman still, Becky, well, youngish….’
‘Oh Mum. Are you feeling lonely on your own?’
‘No, I’m all right. It’s a bit extreme but I’ve decided there’s one sure way to get him out of my hair. I’m going to get married again. Alan’s been over from Australia, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, and he came to see me and …’ She shrugged. ‘You know how it is with him. And so … I know this will come as a shock to you, Becky, love, and there’s no easy way to say it but we’re getting married and afterwards I shall be moving back with him to Australia.’
NINE
SHE BROKE THE news to Simon as they sat down to a meal that evening. It was a simple weekday meal and they were eating as they often did in the kitchen, perched on stools at the breakfast bar. Becky had prepared a chicken curry followed by a bought chocolate dessert because she had long since learned that a sure way to Simon’s heart was via chocolate. Bribery had entered her head. She didn’t want to have to tell him the true reason for her mum’s sudden departure to
the southern hemisphere but, if it came to it, she would and she hoped the chocolate gateau would go some way to softening the blow.
The news rocked him as she had known it would. He got on well with her mum, teasing her that as mothers-in-law go, she was a cracker and he wouldn’t swap her for the world. She remembered the effort her mum had made to impress him that first time she took him home to meet her.
Shelley had had the afternoon off so that she could, as she put it, go through the house. She could bring a spot of housework to a new level when she had a mind to. The kitchen was sparkling, the bathroom had a fresh bar of soap and clean towels and, as for the catering, well, she had bought a selection of cold meats from the delicatessen and various salads in little pots and somehow found the time to bake an apple pie. The table was laid with a crisp white cloth and the best china had been brought out of the cabinet.
When they arrived, they stood a moment in a little boxed group in the tiny hall, Simon’s large frame filling it. Now that the moment had come, her mum’s anxiety had transmitted to Becky and she found herself looking at the house through his eyes. She could tell from her mum’s face that she had got herself into a right old flurry. You would think they were entertaining Prince Charles himself.
‘Pleased to meet you, Simon,’ her mum said, looking awestruck.
‘Pleased to meet you too,’ Simon said, shaking her hand firmly. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you, Mrs Andrews.’
‘Shelley, for God’s sake. Heard a lot about me? I was hoping to keep it quiet. I’m nowhere near as bad as she’s made me out to be.’
They laughed, the ice well and truly trodden through as she led them into the little living room carrying the flowers Simon had brought along – a big bunch of the bright blooms her mum liked, prettily packaged from the florists.
‘Australia?’ Simon frowned as he took it in. ‘How long has she known this guy?’
Rumours and Red Roses Page 7