We started to walk together; I took a deep breath. “Listen, Mum. I … I'm sorry about what I said earlier.”
“Earlier?” She looked at me in surprise. “Darling, you shouldn't be sorry. You were right, Jess. Absolutely right. I've been a terrible mother. I am well aware of that.”
“No, you haven't,” I said, then bit my lip. “I mean, you know, you have a bit, but it wasn't your fault. I know that.”
“Really?” She looked at me hopefully. “You know, Jessica, I haven't fallen on my feet much in my life. I tend to find the rather big potholes and end up falling into them instead. I know I've let you down, but you've turned out so wonderfully. I don't think I'd have done half as well if it had been left to me.”
“Rubbish,” I protested. “You'd have been great. And I would have had much better dress sense.”
She smiled. “Yes, your grandma never really saw the point of clothes except to keep you warm.”
“Was she …” I looked at my mother hesitantly. “Was she as strict? I mean, when you were growing up? Was she always like that, or was it because …”
“Because of me?” My mother looked thoughtful. “I don't know, darling. I know she was fairly strict with me, but it didn't make much difference, because I didn't listen to her much. I was always the one climbing out of windows to go to parties.”
“The windows had locks by the time I was there,” I said ruefully. “Not that I never tried to climb out of one. I guess I don't have your rebellious streak.”
“You've got more ambition than me though,” my mother said with a little shrug. “You've worked hard and now look at you. You're a success. A huge success. You're marrying Max, you've got a great job, you've got lots of money …”
She shot me a sidelong glance and I bristled slightly. “I didn't work for the money,” I said. “I mean, that was luck. Kind of.”
“Luck doesn't exist, darling. We make our own luck, you should know that. In this case, you must have really won over that rich old lady. I'm sure you were very important to her.”
I frowned. “She was important to me, too. Grace was … She was a real friend,” I said, my voice catching, taking me by surprise.
“And now you never need to worry about money again.”
My frown deepened. “Sure, but money isn't that important. Not really.”
My mother smiled brightly. “Not when you don't need it, darling. Then it isn't important,” she said.
We had reached the reception area, but something was niggling at me. “The money Max gave you,” I said, putting my arm out to stop my mother. “What was it really for?”
She turned to look at me defensively. “Max was very generous. I needed some help, finding somewhere to live, that's all …”
“But where were you living before? I mean, what changed?”
My mother looked at me for a moment, then forced a smile. “Nothing, darling,” she said briskly. “Nothing changed.”
“Tell me,” I demanded, standing stock-still; reluctantly, she stopped, too.
She sighed. Then she took a deep breath. “Max was a dear. I'd told him about my problems, you see. And he was wonderfully helpful.”
“Problems?”
My mother bit her lip. “Darling, I have a few debts. Very old ones. Nothing too serious, but the people I owe money to—they can be very … tenacious. Unpleasant. And now that I'm … well, anyway Max helped me to rid myself of them for a little while. To give me a little space, that's all. I'll pay him back. Pay you back. Really I will.”
I stared at her. “I don't need you to pay us back. But he gave you over £15,000. Just how much do you owe in total?”
She blushed awkwardly. “Really darling, it doesn't matter. I can take care of myself. There's no need for you to get involved.”
“How much?”
She looked at me imploringly. “Jessica, please …”
“How much? I need to know.”
“Well, if you must.” She sighed and looked down at the ground. “It's a hundred thousand.”
“A hundred thousand?” My eyes widened.
“You see? Now I wish I hadn't told you. Jessica, look, this is really nothing to do with you. I'll pay Max back and I'll find the money myself. Can we change the subject now?”
“How will you find it?”
“I don't know,” she said defensively, starting to walk again. “But I'll get it somehow. I'll pay it all back, and then they'll leave me alone. Then I can settle down.”
“Settle down?” I grabbed her. “You mean you've been on the run?”
She shook her head. “You make it all sound so dramatic, darling. I'm not on the run. I just haven't … haven't found a place, a permanent home, not really … I mean, I have a nice apartment for the time being. St. John's Wood. You must come by sometime. But it's not home. Not really …”
I blushed slightly, remembering how I'd hid outside her apartment just a few days before. “I thought you put all this behind you when you left me at Grandma's. I thought the whole point was that you could start over?”
She nodded tightly. “I did.”
“So why are they on your tail …?” I met her eyes and suddenly realized the truth. “It's me, isn't it?”
“No, Jessica.”
“No?” I looked at her intently and she smiled sadly.
“I'm not a very noble person, Jess. You can't afford to be noble when … well, it doesn't matter. The fact of the matter is, I'm not entirely proud of how I've lived my life, but I daresay I'd do it all the same way if I had a second chance. We can't escape our natures, you see. But I have always had one regret. I wanted to see you, Jessica,” she said. “To see what had become of you.”
“And they tracked you down?”
“I thought they'd have forgotten all about it. About you, I mean. I'd been Esther Short for so long. But it turns out they'd been watching you all along, waiting to see if I'd emerge from the dead. Turns out they were never convinced by the road accident after all.”
I decided not to dwell on the fact that people had been watching me. Even though it made my blood run cold. This was not about me, after all. “They found you again?”
“It's not your problem, Jessica. You're perfectly safe. It's me they want. So please, let's drop it, shall we?”
“I'm not worried about my safety, I'm worried about you. And I don't want to drop it.”
“You don't have a choice, Jessica,” my mother said firmly, then turned and started to walk again; I followed her in silence back to the changing rooms.
“Ah. You are here.” The changing rooms were fairly empty, other than Ivana parading around in a black thong and bra out of which her breasts were bursting.
“Good treatment?” I asked tentatively.
“Pah!” she said. “I tich her.”
“You what?” I looked at her uncertainly.
“She not so good at massage. I tich her.”
“You taught her?” I gulped. “Ivana, you realize this is a different sort of massage to … I mean, what exactly did you teach her?”
Ivana rolled her eyes. “You think I know only sexy massage? No. I know massage. I know getting into knots and meking good relexation. She no know. I tich her.”
I met my mother's eyes; they were twinkling with laughter. “Good for you,” she said to Ivana, taking off her robe. I didn't mean to look, but I did, and once I had, I couldn't look away. She looked up, feeling my eyes on her, and reddened.
“You're looking at my scar,” she said lightly. “Terrible, isn't it?”
I shook my head, embarrassed, but it was true, I was. My mother, who was tall, slim, elegant, beautiful even, had a deep rivet down her stomach, starting at her belly button and finishing at her panty line. I didn't know why I couldn't take my eyes off of it; it was just so unexpected, such an imperfection on an otherwise perfect body.
“You had an operation?” I asked, forcing myself to look away.
“Of sorts,” she said, pulling a towel back around
her. “That was you, Jess. An emergency C-section. They didn't do those nice little openings back then. It was quite an ordeal getting you to come out.”
“That was me?”
“Yes, darling.” She started to get dressed.
“God, I'm sorry,” I said. “I mean, really sorry.”
“No need, darling. What's done is done.”
“But it's huge,” I said uncertainly.
“It's a permanent reminder that I had a daughter. Have a daughter,” she said, biting her lip. “You see? I couldn't have forgotten you even if I'd wanted to.”
“And did you? Want to?” I felt myself welling up.
“Of course not,” she said, holding out her hand to take mine. Then she let it go. “Of course it means bikinis are out,” she said with a shrug. “But one-pieces are often more flattering.”
“I only wear bikini,” Ivana said darkly. “This is why I cannot have baby. Sean no understand what it mins. He no get fet.”
“But the weight goes eventually,” my mother said. “And motherhood's worth the sacrifice. I mean it, Ivana.”
“Really?” Ivana looked at her uncertainly. “But you give away bebe. You no like.”
“I did like my baby,” my mother said quietly. “I just couldn't look after her. They're two different things. Very different.”
“Mebe I can't either,” Ivana said, not sounding very sure now. “Mebe I like, or not like. Mebe I tek my shower now.”
We both nodded as Ivana disappeared.
I looked at my mother carefully. “So … do you mind if I ask you something?” I asked tentatively.
She nodded, a slightly worried expression on her face. “Of course. Anything.”
I paused for a moment.
“What, darling?” she asked, looking apprehensive now. “What is it?”
“Grandma,” I said. “Your mother.”
“Yes?” She nodded. “What about her?”
I sat down. “Was she as bad when she was looking after you? I mean, did she tell you that if you wore makeup you'd be a hussy and no one would ever take you seriously? Did she ban you from leaving the house after 6 P.M.? Did she?”
My mother grinned, and I immediately felt a small sense of camaraderie. “Oh God, she was awful, wasn't she?”
“I thought if I took a puff of a cigarette I'd be addicted to heroin for the rest of my life,” I said tentatively, allowing myself a little smile. “And as for alcohol …”
“The devil's drink,” my mother deadpanned in a perfect “Grandma” voice.
She walked over and sat down next to me. “I'm sorry, Jess. I thought … Look, I know she was a battle-ax, but she meant well.”
“I know she did,” I said. “I mean, I loved her. She sacrificed …” I met my mother's eyes. “Well, you know, she looked after me.”
“I wish I'd been able to,” my mother said. “But then again, I'm not sure I would have been a very good role model. Mum—your grandma—she always said I was her first failure.” She smiled ruefully and I took her hand.
“You're not a failure.”
“Yes, darling, I am. Always have been, always will be. I'm weak, you see. Can't help it. I always …” She met my eyes, then looked down.
“Always what?” I asked gently.
“Always let people down.” She stood up and walked back to her locker. I thought for a moment, then dug out my bag and took out my checkbook.
“A hundred thousand pounds?” I asked.
My mother looked at me in surprise. “What?”
“A hundred thousand. That's how much you owe?”
She turned and shook her head. “No, darling. Please don't. I couldn't. I really …”
“You can,” I said flatly. “And you will.”
“Yes, but please, darling. I don't want your money. I don't want to owe you.”
“You didn't want a bloody great scar but you got that, didn't you?” I finished writing the check and gave it to her. “Pay them off. Pay them all off. Okay? For me. I'll sleep better at night. I want you to have it.”
For a moment she did nothing. Then, eventually, she took the check and put it in her bag.
“I can't believe I created something so … good,” she said, a tear glistening in her eye. “So unlike me.”
I looked at her searchingly “You're not a bad person,” I said quietly.
She smiled. “Not bad, no, Jessica. But I'm not strong like you. Not like you. You … you really seem to know where you're going, to know who you are. I'm really rather envious, if I'm honest.”
I pretended to look incredulous, but really I was glowing inside.
“But darling,” she continued seriously. “Are you sure about the money? You really don't have to. I'll find a way out of this little predicament. I'm very good at it. I've had a lifetime of practice, you see.”
I nodded firmly. “It's yours,” I said. “I don't know what to do with it all anyway.”
She looked at me for a few seconds; then she shrugged. “Well, in that case, I'm glad to help.” She smiled.
I found myself smiling, too. “Look,” I said tentatively. “Maybe after this we could go and get a drink. Have a meal—-just the two of us. What do you think? We could talk. Properly talk.”
“Just the two of us?”
I nodded. “If you want …”
“I do want, very much,” my mother said, squeezing my arm. “Thank you Jessica. You really are the best daughter a mother could wish for.”
“I am?” I turned away my cheeks hot all of a sudden. I was the best daughter. My mother said I was the best daughter she could wish for. I felt excited, as if I wanted to hug her. I mean, sure, she wasn't perfect. But then who was? And did it really matter? What was important was that she was here, now. What was important was that I made the best of it, that we gave it our best shot.
I moved tentatively toward her, opened my arms to embrace her, but as I did the door swung open and my arms fell back to my sides just as Helen appeared.
“Oh wow,” she said. “Oh wow, that was amazing. God, I want to move into this place. Do you think they rent out those treatment rooms?” She sank down onto a bench, a blissful smile on her face, then looked up at us. “Tell me you enjoyed yours as much. You had to, right? I mean, this place is like heaven. Better than heaven.”
“Ivana taught her therapist how to massage properly,” I said, deadpan, catching my mother's eyes and smiling. Helen's eyes widened, then she grinned. “Of course she did. And you?”
“Good treatment,” I nodded. “She … got into my knots. You know.” Again I looked at my mother. My mother. It felt real for the first time. I couldn't wait to be alone with her, to ask her all the questions that suddenly filled my head, to get to know her, properly.
“I surely do.” Helen sighed. “Do we really have to leave?”
“ ’Fraid so,” I said regretfully, taking my clothes out of my locker and pulling them on. My mother, meanwhile, had wandered over to take a shower, ignoring Helen's protests that she was meant to let the oils sink in overnight.
I got ready quickly, my mind racing as I pulled on my jeans, put on my T-shirt. My mother and I were going to talk. Properly. I took out my phone and sent Max a text to let him know, then I started to think through all the things I wanted to ask her, all the things I wanted to tell her. My mother had a long shower, spent an age blow-drying her hair, then spent another age putting on her makeup. Every few minutes, her phone, which was next to me on top of her crumpled bathrobe, would vibrate. But I didn't mind. So she was popular—why shouldn't she be? She was my mother. And I couldn't be prouder.
Eventually, she emerged from the shower room, wrapped in a skimpy towel.
“So,” I said, as she started to get dressed. “Where shall we go?”
“Ooh, are we going out? There's this fab bar around the corner,” Helen said immediately. “Kind of underground. Great music.”
I smiled uncertainly. “Actually, it's just me and my mum,” I said apologetically. “
We were going to grab some food.” I looked over at my mother, but she had her phone clamped to her ear and was laughing softly. Eventually she put it down. “So,” I said again. “Where do you want to go to eat?”
“Eat?” she asked.
I nodded. “Or drink. Apparently there's a nice bar around the corner Helen knows,” I said. “We could go there first and then maybe find somewhere … What?” I frowned, catching her expression. “What is it?”
She took a deep breath. “Darling, I wonder, would you mind terribly if we postponed our little drink? I mean, I would love to, really love to spend the evening with you. But Chester has been texting me all day and he's just begged me to have dinner with him. I don't want to let him down, darling. You understand, don't you? Don't you, Jessica?”
I looked at her strangely. Was this a joke? Was she kidding me?
“Would I … mind?” I asked.
“You know I wouldn't ask unless … It's just that I think this might be important. That he might be important. I have a feeling about Chester, darling.”
“You have a feeling about him?” I felt my stomach clench. “A feeling that makes him more important than me?”
“Not more important,” she said, shaking her head emphatically. “Of course not. No one is more important than you. But Chester … he could be my … this could lead to … I have to think about the future, Jessica. I have to do that. You understand, don't you? Tell me you understand?”
“Sure,” I said lightly, trying not to let the fact that my world was crumbling inward show. “Sure, I understand completely.”
And I did, too. My mother didn't love me. She'd never wanted me. What she loved was men and money. Now she had money and all she needed was some arm candy to set it off. I'd been a mug. I'd been a pathetic loser, believing all her crap and thinking that she'd changed. But people didn't change. If I'd learned one thing in my life, it was that people never changed.
As we left the Sanctuary, trooping through the gift shop and out into the street, I could barely bring myself to look at my mother—I could feel her shooting little glances my way, but I just stared ahead resolutely.
Helen grabbed my hand. “Why don't the three of us still have that drink? Retox after all that detoxing?”
A Wild Affair: A Novel Page 13