Every Vow You Break

by Julia Crouch

Bella perched on a tall bar stool at the island counter. ‘Food smells great.’

  ‘I thought I’d treat you to a great American breakfast.’ Stephen stopped and smiled at her. ‘God, you’re like your mother.’

  ‘So they say,’ Bella said, feeling slightly awkward. ‘Did you know her well when she was younger?’

  ‘Yes.’ He turned back to his cooking, lifting out one batch of pancakes and pouring another into the pan. ‘I knew her a bit when she was first married to Marcus. Look,’ he said, tipping a handful of blueberries on to the puddles of batter. ‘Fresh eggs laid this morning make the best pancakes; the berries add sharpness and sweetness. I just picked them from my patch over the top of the hill.’ He motioned through the window with his spatula. ‘Maple-cured streaky bacon, fried to a crisp as is proper, and the whole lot topped off with a pat of whipped butter and more of my maple syrup.’

  ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘If I carry on with food like that, I’ll be the size of a house by the time I leave.’

  ‘I very much doubt that,’ he said, looking her up and down.

  ‘Morning.’ Lara appeared on the half-landing above the kitchen. She was showing every second of her age – her eyes were bloodshot and puffy and her voice croaked. A hangover, Bella supposed. The parents had been packing it away the night before.

  ‘Oh hi.’ Stephen smiled up at her, and for a second Bella wondered if he had once held a candle for her mother. But she dismissed it out of hand. Her parents were married when he knew her. He’d just said so himself.

  ‘Have we got electricity again?’ Lara asked.

  ‘It’s all restored,’ Stephen said. ‘Anyone else showing signs of life?’

  ‘I do need to be back by ten, remember, Mum,’ Bella said.

  ‘Jack’s up and in with his dad, so it’s only Olly to get up now.’

  ‘Help yourself to tea, Lara. It’s pretty fresh,’ Stephen said.

  She poured herself a mugful and went to stand at the open dining-area window, where she breathed in deeply. ‘It’s so fresh out there, after the rain. Less hot too, I think. Don’t you?’

  ‘It’ll warm up again pretty soon,’ Stephen said.

  Lara turned and smiled brightly at Bella. ‘Why don’t I go and wake Olly up, then you and me can slip outside for a turn around. Get some fresh air.’

  ‘All right.’ Bella shrugged. Her mother didn’t seem able to stay still for a moment.

  ‘Tell them upstairs breakfast will be ready in half an hour,’ Stephen said as Lara headed up the stairs. ‘I’ve got a stack of pancakes to make, but they keep well in the stove.’

  Bella watched him work. ‘Don’t you ever get lonely out here?’

  ‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘But then, after LA, it’s quite welcome really.’

  ‘It must be fun out there, though.’

  ‘Believe me, Bella. It’s mental.’ He smiled at her. ‘The best of times and the worst of times. There’s always someone watching you, wanting a piece of you.’

  ‘I think I’d quite like that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. Believe me.’

  Bella looked at him. She wanted to ask him more about his life in LA – who his friends were, what he did, where he went. And she burned to know the details of that breakdown and his run-in with the stalker. But it was all too indelicate. She wasn’t like Olly.

  ‘But,’ Stephen said. ‘I’m really, really glad you guys are here for the summer. It’ll be great just to do normal stuff with you lot and your mum. There’s loads to do hereabouts if you know where to go. I’ll be your guide.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Bella said. Being shown around by a movie star would be quite a treat. She wondered, though, how he’d manage it without anyone spotting him.

  ‘That was hard work,’ Lara said as she came back downstairs. ‘Like raising the dead. Come on then, Bell.’ She linked arms with her. ‘Take me outside.’

  ‘See you in a bit,’ Stephen said, as they went out the back door.

  ‘You’ll have to guide me,’ Lara said. ‘I didn’t come prepared for an overnight stay so I haven’t got my glasses or any more lenses.’

  The sun had already heated up the wet greenery, creating a haze around them, like the steam room at the Prince Regent pool, Bella thought. The air hung heavy with the smell of damp humus while the insects cranked up their din for another day.

  ‘This grass is so coarse,’ Lara said. ‘Not at all like the mossy stuff back home.’

  They wandered over to a vegetable plot in a sunny spot by the lawn’s edge.

  ‘Look at the courgettes.’ Bella bent down to reveal a mottled fruit half hidden by a prickled leaf. At its end a yellow flower hung, at an early stage of shrivel. ‘There’s thousands.’

  ‘That’s what you call a glut,’ Lara said. ‘And look – is that basil and tomatoes? We really should sign up for an allotment when we get back.’

  ‘Well don’t count on me to help you,’ Bella said. ‘I don’t like getting muddy.’

  ‘It’s nice to dream though. Isn’t it? About growing things?’

  Bella looked at her mum and noticed she had a tear on her cheek. ‘You all right there?’

  ‘Oh yes. It’s just me hormones.’ Lara picked a basil leaf and rolled it between her fingers, then held it up to her face. ‘What are you doing so we have to be back by ten, then?’

  ‘Meeting someone.’

  ‘Is it that nice boy from the party?’ Lara asked as they crossed the lawn to a garden bench in front of a fire bowl.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Swimming.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At his cousin’s place.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Lara said, sitting down on the bench. ‘Is it far?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Bella sat down next to her mother.

  ‘Is he driving you there?’

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Well tell him to take great care. And if he drinks anything, refuse to get in the car.’

  ‘Mum …’

  ‘I mean it. You’re precious cargo.’

  She always said that.

  ‘And just—’ Lara went on.

  ‘Just what?’ Bella was beginning to get irritated.

  ‘Just make sure he takes care of you. And be careful.’

  ‘I can take care of myself, Mum.’

  ‘I’m sure you can. I felt the same way as you when I was your age. But I was perfectly capable of making mistakes. And I did. Believe me.’

  Bella stood, picked up a stick and poked at the cinders in the fire bowl. Still damp from the rain, they had the smell of a burned house drenched by firefighters’ hoses.

  ‘Just keep your head, Bell, OK?’

  ‘Let’s go back in,’ Bella said, lobbing the stick up into the mist, where it turned itself around to land with a whip-crack on the grass near the trees.

  ‘I’m going to stay out here for a bit,’ Lara said. ‘Give me a shout when breakfast’s ready. And help Stephen lay the table or something, OK?’

  ‘I really don’t need you to tell me to do that, Smother.’

  ‘I know.’

  Bella left her mother sitting hunched up, pulling the shirt Stephen had lent her around herself as if she were cold, gazing at where the fire would have been. She was in an odd, pernickety sort of mood this morning. It got on Bella’s nerves, the way she wouldn’t just let her get on with things. She was nearly seventeen, for God’s sake. If she wasn’t old enough to look after herself by now, she never would be.

  She went back into the house to help the film star lay the table and serve up his pancakes and bacon breakfast.

  Twenty-Three

  BY NINE THIRTY THE WAYLANDS WERE BACK AT THE TROUT ISLAND house, where Dog awaited them on the lawn. Taking Jack’s hand, Marcus skirted around, keeping as much distance between the creature and the allergies as possible. When Lara opened the front door a blast of rotten-sweet air hit her, as warm as if she had opened an oven. The stench of the house seemed stronger t
han ever.

  Apart from Bella, who ran upstairs to get changed, they were all, for one reason or another, at a pretty low ebb. Olly grabbed his guitar and slumped on the sofa in the stifling living room, strumming out a plaintive Beirut song. Jack flopped around, whining about the heat.

  ‘I’m going to the garage to get some Diet Coke,’ Marcus said, grabbing a ten-dollar note from Lara’s purse. It was his favourite hangover cure: a couple of ibuprofen washed down with a can of what he called ‘the shit-coloured nectar’.

  Lara kicked off her clogs, found some fresh contact lenses, sorted Jack out with his colouring books then headed for the kitchen to get a bowl of water for Dog. She was just about to cross the floor in her bare feet when she realised it was covered in smithereens of smashed glass and splats of red wine. Marcus must have had a drink before they went out – for Dutch courage, perhaps? – left it half drunk, and somehow it had got knocked off. Now she had sour wine, splinters of glass and a trail of ants to contend with. Tiptoeing around the carnage, she fetched the dustpan and brush.

  As she squatted to reach the last shards of glass, Bella appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking so lovely in her striped jersey vest dress and flip-flops that Lara felt a slight catch in her throat. She had her camera bag slung over her shoulder, and her sunglasses perched on her head, holding her hair back from her face.

  Lara got up and gave her daughter a hug. She had only just started to have to reach up to embrace her, and it still felt strange, as if some sort of tables were being turned.

  ‘Do be careful, Bell,’ she said.

  ‘Sigh,’ Bella said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘All I’m saying is keep your heart and your head. Be safe.’

  ‘I’m going swimming, Mother. In a pond. It’s not as if there are weapons involved.’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘Oh, Ma, do back off,’ Bella said. But it was good-natured enough for Lara to feel able to kiss her on the cheek. ‘I’ll be home by suppertime,’ she said, rubbing the spot where Lara’s lips had touched and turning to go. Lara went to the kitchen archway to watch her cross the living room, her little dress flipping to reveal the backs of her perfect legs.

  ‘Be careful, Bella,’ Olly said in the deep, whispering voice he used to imitate his mother at her most earnest. He placed his hand over the guitar strings and gave her a look that was decidedly unmaternal.

  ‘Fuck off Olly,’ Bella said to her brother. Then she slipped out of the door and was gone.

  ‘I tend to agree with her,’ Lara said.

  ‘Jesus,’ Olly said, and bent his head to his guitar again to play something a bit less laid-back.

  It was a testament either to Jack’s concentration on his colouring or to the everyday nature of such scenes for him, that he didn’t bat an eyelid throughout this exchange.

  As Lara at last filled the water bowl for poor, patient Dog, she thought perhaps she should make another attempt to talk with Olly. She was just carrying the full bowl through the living room when a ferocious barking from Dog made her jump and spill water down the front of Stephen’s shirt, which she was still wearing. She had left her linen top at his house and wondered if it was still soaking in Vanish. If so, the colour would have leached out of it by now.

  ‘Can you go and see what’s up?’ she asked Olly as she went back into the kitchen to dab at the shirt.

  ‘Fuck’s sake.’ Olly threw his guitar down, lurched up and got the door. ‘Dude,’ Lara heard him say in an altogether different tone. The greeting was followed by the slap of young male palms. Returning to the living room, she peered through into the hallway. Framed by the door, two baseball-capped shapes slouched in low-slung trousers.

  ‘What’s happening, dude?’ one of them asked.

  Olly looked over his shoulder then turned again to his guests. Their voices fell to a murmur as he leaned against the door frame, discussing something. Lara strained to hear what they were saying, but it was too quiet.

  ‘Hang there a second,’ he said, as he turned to go back to the living room. Lara darted into the kitchen. She didn’t want him to think she had been eavesdropping.

  ‘Hey Mom,’ Olly called. His voice had a strange colour to it – a slight American accent already. ‘I’m off with the guys. Cool?’

  ‘Um, OK, then. Cool.’ She went through to the hallway to be introduced to the ‘guys’, but before she got there Olly had followed his new friends out on to the porch, slamming the front door behind him so violently it made the painted-in window frames rattle, and the rotten stink of the house whirl about her.

  Watching the boys lope away down Main Street, Lara finally gave Dog his water. Then she went back to the living room, sat on the sofa and closed her eyes. At least they were both making some friends, she thought. At least there’s that. Then her mind moved from her children to what had happened the night before between her and Stephen and she shivered. But she had to fold all of that away. She had told him no, and he had apologised, and that was that.

  It just wasn’t fair that she had found Stephen here. Of all the bastard tricks fate could play on her.

  A shadow fell over her.

  ‘Coke?’

  She opened her eyes and saw Marcus standing in front of her, offering her a cold red and silver can.

  ‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ she said.

  ‘I’m trying to move a bit more lightly,’ he said. ‘I know it annoys you, my blundering about. And this house is a bit of a drum.’

  ‘I’m honoured,’ she said, taking the can. ‘It’s stifling in here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Tell you what. Let’s go outside while Jack the lad’s so engrossed in his colouring. There’s a nice breeze out front.’

  ‘OK.’ She held out a hand for him to pull her up.

  ‘Stephen was right, you know,’ Marcus said, looking at her.

  ‘What?’ She turned away to hide the redness that had crept up the sides of her cheeks.

  ‘That colour is really good on you.’

  ‘Well, isn’t this nice?’ Marcus said as they stretched out on the swing seat. He lifted his legs round to rest in her lap. Dog sat on the lawn, looking up at them.

  ‘Good boy,’ Lara said.

  ‘I don’t want him in the house,’ Marcus said.

  ‘Don’t worry. Stay, boy,’ Lara said, and the dog stretched out and lay down, resting his head on his front paws. ‘Have you managed to ask anyone about a car yet?’

  ‘I’ve asked,’ Marcus said. ‘Nothing definite yet.’

  ‘We’re going to have to do something,’ she said, but she knew she’d end up having to sort it out herself.

  They sat there swinging in the heat, swigging on their drinks.

  ‘I wonder if we’ll ever get used to this closeness,’ she said. A new layer of mugginess had placed itself over the fresher storm-cleared day. Lara felt the sweat trickle down the backs of her knees where they were weighted down by Marcus’s legs. Every pore on his face was pink, open and glistening.

  ‘What time do you start today?’ she asked him.

  ‘Two. James and Betty said they needed a morning off before they throw themselves in again. It’s only going to be a read-through. Nothing too strenuous, thank God.’ Marcus slugged back the last drop of Coke from his can and crumpled it in his fist.

  ‘One show opened, then straight into rehearsal for the next. It’s full on for them, isn’t it?’

  ‘Only for the summer months. Otherwise they just potter about, more or less.’

  They sat, swinging slightly, watching nothing happen on the empty street. Dog, who had fallen asleep, whimpered and changed position.

  ‘Could you live out in the middle of nowhere do you think?’ Marcus asked. ‘Like him?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She brushed a strand of hair out of her eye. ‘I don’t think I’d be too good if I ever had to be on my own. Too scared.’

  ‘Do you want to know a secret?’ Marcus said, putting his hands behind his head and stretching. ‘
When I first saw him at that party I thought I’d be too jealous to cope.’

  Lara held her breath. ‘How do you mean, jealous?’

  ‘Of his success. He got up there and I didn’t.’

  Relieved, Lara made a move to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  ‘It’s true. I work, but I barely make a living, and no one is obsessed enough to actually stalk me. But do you know? I really like the guy. I’d forgotten about that, not having seen him in person for so long. I really like him.’

  ‘That’s good,’ Lara said.

  ‘And, in a way, I feel sorry for him. He might be one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, but he hasn’t got half of what I’ve got. He hasn’t got all this.’ Absurdly, Marcus gestured towards the house. But Lara knew what he meant.

  ‘It’s taken me all this time to realise it, but I am far, far, luckier than Stephen Molloy.’ Marcus reached over and took her hand. ‘And,’ he went on, rubbing his finger up against her palm in the way she found so irritating, ‘who knows? If my agent manages to pull out the stops we talked about before I left, well then, some big Manhattan casting guy might well come up here, see me give my Mr Mack and say, “That’s the ginger cunt for us.”’

  Despite the weight in her heart, Lara laughed.

  ‘I’ve got a good feeling about this job. The lead in the Scottish Play! So many great lines. I might end up having it all with icing AND a cherry on top. You never know.’

  ‘You never know …’ she said. Her gaze trailed off to a vanishing point at the far end of Main Street. That was one thing you could say for Marcus. His optimism rarely deserted him.

  ‘Mummy, I’m bored.’ Jack slopped through on to the deck. ‘I’m hungry.’

  ‘I’d better get on with the old lines,’ Marcus said, swinging his legs off Lara and reaching for his bag, which lay on the porch where he had dumped it when they arrived.

  Lara got up and let herself be led by her youngest son, back into the kitchen.

  Twenty-Four

  MARCUS WAS AT REHEARSAL, BELLA AND OLLY WERE OUT, JACK WAS asleep and Lara had some free time to get on with her business plan. Instead, she tidied up. She marvelled at the mess her family could create in just a couple of days. Because she hadn’t yet designated a place for laundry, Bella, Olly and Marcus had gone native, leaving dirty underwear, stinking socks and T-shirts on the bedroom floors, dumped where they had been taken off. She thought there might be enough washing to justify a trip to the launderette, which James had told her was along Main Street, beyond the turning to the theatre.