by Susan Lewis
Emma was cautiously liking the sound of this. ‘I’d have to go in with a sample story,’ she pointed out, ‘or how will they know I can write? How do I know, when I’ve hardly done any since I left uni, or not of the creative or journalistic variety.’
‘I have every confidence in you, and even though I say it myself, I think I could be a pretty interesting start. If I tell you the story of what happened to Jack, and how I got myself back together, only to be floored again by this recession ... Well, I can think of worse options to get going on.’
‘So can I,’ Emma agreed, starting to run with it. ‘I’ll need to think it over some more, but in principle it could be a great idea. I could do the interviews in between looking for a full-time job, and if I do manage to start work, I might even be able to carry them on in my spare time. Polly, you’re amazing. I really think you might have come up with something here.’
‘Delighted to be of service. We can get together at the weekend to make a start, if you like.’
‘Absolutely. I might even splash out on a couple of steaks if you’d like to come for dinner.’
‘In that case, I’ll bring the wine. Or can we possibly stretch to dinner at the pub?’
Emma baulked. ‘I guess if it’s just the two of us ...’
‘The girls are bound to be going out,’ Polly reminded her, ‘though at some point I’ll have to get round to telling Melissa I won’t be able to go on funding her social life the way I used to – or her wardrobe.’
Already hearing the explosion, Emma said, teasingly, ‘Unless Mr Wood has a plan.’
‘Oh, don’t get my hopes up, please, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if he has?’
‘Fantastic, and I’m staying optimistic so you should too. Now, I have to go, I’m afraid. Someone’s been trying to get through for the past ten minutes so I ought to find out who it is.’
After clicking off and picking up again she barely had time to say hello before an irritable voice came down the line saying, ‘About time too, I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past half an hour. Who the hell have you been talking to?’
Tempted to slam the phone straight back down again, Emma somehow managed to keep her tone smooth as she said, ‘Hello Will, what can I do for you?’
With a grunting sound as he tried to get past his umbrage he said, ‘Lauren tells me there was a problem with her car. It’s still under warranty, Emma, so why didn’t you take it into a Peugeot garage?’
‘As a matter of fact I did,’ Emma retorted through her teeth, ‘and it turned out that the fault wasn’t covered. Does that satisfy your query? Good, I’ll ring off now then and next time you call ...’
‘Just a minute, I haven’t finished yet. I don’t want my daughter thinking I’m landing you with bills that ought to be mine, so if you can let me know the cost of the repair ...’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘I want to know.’
Remembering that she really did need the money, she was fleetingly tempted to double the amount. In the end she said, ‘It was just under a hundred quid.’
‘OK, I’ll send a cheque to cover it.’
Still wishing she could tell him where to stuff it, she said, ‘Do you have the address?’
‘As a matter of fact you haven’t seen fit to give it to me yet, so now might be a good time.’
‘I’ll text it,’ she told him and was about to ring off when he said, ‘So how are you settling in down ... What the hell is that?’
After waiting for the plane to go over she replied mildly, ‘The four ten from Corfu.’
There was a brief moment before he said, aghast, ‘You’re living on a flight path?’
‘We weren’t so far from one in Chiswick,’ she snapped irritably.
‘It was never anything like that.’
‘Well it is now. So, if you’ve finished I’d like to have my dinner ...’
‘Why are you always so tetchy?’
‘Oh, let me think about that.’
Sighing loudly, he said, ‘You know, bitterness isn’t attractive.’
Wanting to knife him, she said, ‘Nor are cheating, lying and stealing, but it doesn’t seem to have done you much harm, does it?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, I can’t talk to you.’
‘You were never invited to,’ and before he could say any more she banged the phone down so hard that the back came off the handset and broke.
Damn you, Will Scott, she seethed to herself as she picked up the pieces. She really, really didn’t need to be forking out for a new phone right now, much less did she need his preposterous, false-hearted attempts at cosy little chats. Why didn’t he get that she wanted no more to do with him? Which part of get lost, drop dead, disappear down a slimy plughole did he not understand?
Just thank God Lauren was getting older, thereby reducing the need for contact, or she might never be done with the thieving, sponging, double-crossing toad, and how much she loathed him. Had she really loved him once? How could that have happened? The truth was, she’d been so swept away by his charm and his looks and the way everything always seemed possible for him, that it had taken years for her to see how worthless and shallow he really was. OK, she was still being harsh, because they had been happy once, blissfully in fact, and if she dug through all the crap of the past few years she’d emerge into pastures full of wonderful memories, especially after Lauren had been born. And even today she was – albeit grudgingly – prepared to admit that he had some good qualities, though the only one she could think of right now was the generous allowance he paid Lauren each month which she, Emma, would never have been able to manage herself.
Deciding, for the sake of her own sanity, to put the last few minutes behind her or she’d be planning her ex-husband’s hasty dispatch until gone midnight, she carried her meagre dinner into the sitting room and turned on the TV. A quick catch-up with the news, maybe an episode of Corrie, then she’d return to her computer to see if she could conjure some enthusiasm or inspiration from the hundreds of jobs she’d already pored over at least a dozen times. There was always the chance, she supposed, that some little quirk of imagination would kick in to show her why she was just the right person for the position of construction site manager, or even a personal banking advisor – ha, ha, or lol as Lauren would say.
Polly’s suggestion was definitely feeling like a pretty good one, provided she possessed the skills to make a go of it, of course, and she was also going to give more thought to something she’d discussed with Berry earlier. She’d started her first little empire with nothing more than a sandwich round, so maybe she could pull it off again. There was a business park a couple of miles down the road, so perhaps she’d take a drive down there tomorrow to get the lie of the land. It had to be worth a try, anything did, if only to light a spark of optimism in the gloomy little backwater that her world now seemed to be.
‘Mum! Hey, it’s me,’ Lauren cried into the phone. ‘Have you been trying to get hold of me?’
Forcing herself awake, Emma said groggily, ‘What time is it?’
‘Just after half ten. Sorry, were you asleep?’
Emma’s expression turned wry as she looked around. ‘At the kitchen table in front of the computer,’ she admitted, wincing as she stretched her neck, ‘so you did me a favour. Is everything OK? Where are you?’
‘At Granny Berry’s. She’s decided to fly back from Italy tomorrow instead of next week, so I’ve come round to turn up the heating. Anyway, I’m ringing because we’ve just posted some new stuff on YouTube. I’ve emailed you the links already. There’s one of me and Donna on our guitars doing Suzanne Vega’s “Marlene on the Wall”, which is one of Granny’s favourites, so I’ve emailed her too. Then there’s a couple of Skye and Matilda doing their Brahms violin concerto in D minor, and they’re both absolutely brilliant. And wait till you hear Salina Buck singing “Ritorna vincitor!”, you know, from Aida. Mum, she is totally awesome. She is so going to blow us all away when we do our p
erformance exams.’
Smiling as she clicked on to the website, Emma said, ‘Did Melissa get hold of you? I think she must have been trying while you were recording.’
‘Oh yeah, I called her back about ten minutes ago. She wants me to pick up some strings for her guitar at the shop on King’s Road, which is fine. She also wanted to talk about what we’re doing at the weekend, but the thing is, Mum, I’ve got a ton of work to do, plus Dad’s offering to pay me to babysit for him and Jem on Saturday night, so if it’s all right with you, I thought I’d skip this weekend.’
Having feared this would happen, though not in the least prepared to face it so soon, Emma heard her voice shake slightly as she said, ‘That’s OK. I know how busy you are.’
‘Oh, you do mind, don’t you? I knew you would. It’s OK, I’ll come home like we planned.’
‘No, no, no. I understand how much revision you have and if you’ve already promised Dad ...’
‘Oh, Mum, I feel really terrible now. Is it awful being there on your own?’
‘Of course not. I’m so busy I hardly notice most of the time. And Polly’s coming over on Saturday. We’re going to work on a new project together.’
‘Sounds interesting. Are you going to tell me what it is?’
‘It can wait. Is someone there with you? I thought I heard voices.’
‘Uh, it’s just the telly. Hang on.’ There were some muffled sounds as she presumably searched for the remote control, then she came back on the line saying, ‘So the car’s OK and Dad says he’s going to reimburse you for the repair.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Cool.’ Lauren started to laugh.
Puzzled, Emma said, ‘What’s funny?’
‘Nothing. No, it’s just ... Oh my God, stop ... Sorry, Mum, it’s ... Actually, I should ring off. Are you sure you don’t mind about the weekend?’
‘Of course not.’ What else could she say? Lauren was eighteen now, had a life of her own and a punishing set of exams ahead of her. ‘Actually, before you go, have you heard about these golden angels?’
‘These what? Oh God, Mum, I’m really, really sorry ... We’ll speak in the morning, OK?’ and she was gone.
Thrown, Emma rang off too and sat staring at the computer where Salina Buck, one of Lauren’s outstandingly gifted friends, was poised ready to sing. Not quite ready to hear it yet, Emma got to her feet and went to put on the kettle. It was so unlike Lauren to be abrupt that she still couldn’t quite get a handle on it. Maybe she should call back to make sure everything was OK, except she certainly hadn’t sounded as though anything was wrong. She’d seemed in quite high spirits, which was fine, excellent in fact, because why would she want her daughter to be any other way?
Picking up her mobile she sent Lauren a text. Are you sure no one’s there with you?
She didn’t get a reply until early the next morning. At Donna’s. Everyone’s here. Love you speak later.
‘You know your trouble, you worry too much,’ Berry told her when they spoke on the phone later in the day. ‘I’m sure there’s absolutely nothing going on with Lauren, other than the usual mayhem of being eighteen, talented and as popular as she is pretty. In fact, considering all she’s been going through lately, moving house, her appalling workload, I’d say it’s a bit of a miracle she’s coping so well. Of course, she gets it from me. I’ve never been easily fazed either, whereas you, my darling, are your mother all over.’
Emma flinched. ‘Beryl, that was just mean,’ she accused.
‘Beryl? Who is this person?’
‘The one who thinks she’s funny telling me I’m like a woman who can’t stand me.’
‘Oh, you do so exaggerate.’
Emma didn’t think so. ‘Anyway, the important thing is, you’re not worried about Lauren.’
‘Absolutely not. I admit I haven’t actually laid eyes on her since before Christmas, but from speaking to her almost daily I’d say the child is en pleine forme, as they say in Italy.’
‘That’s French.’
‘But it means the same thing. In fact, if there’s a teensy little problem at all, it’s that she’s worried about you, being down there all on your own in a house that I fear is too piccolo for me to get through the door.’
Emma gave a cry of protest. ‘I know she didn’t say that – and it’s not that small, nor are you that large. You just can’t bring yourself to be anywhere but Chelsea when you’re in this country, so be honest.’
‘At my age, and after all the travelling I’ve done, I know where I want to be, so why put myself through the torment of going anywhere else? Now, I want to hear that you’re coming to London for my exhibition. Oh yes, you already agreed, didn’t you? Must be getting Alzheimer’s. I shall pay for your rail ticket, of course, and the dinner we shall have afterwards. I’d let you choose the restaurant if I didn’t think you’d put me on a budget, so it’s probably best to leave that to me.’
‘Berry, you’re being too generous ...’
‘No, what I actually am is a very selfish sixty-something who very much likes to have things her own way.’
Emma had to smile, since her extremely unselfish grandmother was a very lively, and actually still quite glamorous, eighty-two and three quarters.
‘I really wouldn’t want my little masterpieces to be part of an exhibition if you didn’t come to see it,’ Berry ran on. ‘And having my darling Lauren around makes me happier than hashish, so you see it’s all about me really, and if it’s all about me, I think it’s only fair that I should pay. So I shall ask Lauren to go on to the website when she pops round later, and book your ticket. Are you feeling sufficiently bullied yet, or shall I go on?’
Laughing, Emma said, ‘You know very well I’d rather miss my own wedding than one of your shows, but ...’
‘Hang on, I’m not sure that’s quite the right answer.’
Still laughing, Emma waved to Mrs Dempster as she passed the window, saying, ‘I just want you to know that one of these days I’m going to pay you back for everything ...’
‘I thought I’d made myself clear. I’m doing all this for me, not you, so shall we move on? Or back, actually, because I rang your mother earlier, to invite her to the show, and we ended up having quite a long chat.’
The light in Emma’s eyes dimmed. ‘Do I want to know about this?’ she asked sourly.
‘I’m not sure, but she was keen to hear about how well you’re settling in down there in Wales ...’
‘Berry, I’m in North Somerset – or Bristol, according to the postcode.’
‘I knew it was somewhere in the west. Anyway, it brings me on to the question of why she doesn’t have your address.’
‘What do you mean? I sent her an email at the same time as I emailed everyone else.’
‘Well, you know what she’s like. She probably didn’t appreciate being one of the crowd. Anyway, she has it now, because I gave it to her.’
‘Frankly, I’m amazed she wants it.’
‘Emma.’
Emma stayed silent.
‘It’s true, your mother does have a funny way of showing her feelings at times, but you have to believe me when I tell you I know she has them.’
‘You and I have had this conversation so often over the years that it’s bewildering to me that we’re having it again.’
‘OK, then we shall change the subject. Phyllis, be gone. What news on the job front?’
Coming to detest that question, Emma emptied her lukewarm coffee into the sink as she said, ‘Nothing’s new, apart from a couple of ideas I’m playing with, one of which we discussed yesterday. The other is something Polly suggested, which I’m also quite keen on.’
‘Excellent, and if you need a little boost to help get you launched you know where to come. Now, I’m wondering who this belongs to,’ she ran on. ‘I know it’s not mine, and it can’t be Lauren’s because she texted me earlier.’
‘What is it?’
‘A mobile phone I’ve just found down
the side of the sofa.’
‘Well, if it’s not yours or Lauren’s it must belong to one of her friends. Actually, I thought someone was there with her last night. Is there anything to identify it?’
‘No, the battery seems to be dead and there’s nothing on the casing. Oh well, I’m sure we’ll find out when its owner realises it’s missing. So, am I free to go now? Is your mind at rest about Lauren?’
‘More or less, unless you happen to know if she’s got a new boyfriend she’s decided not to tell me about.’
‘If she has then she hasn’t told me either, but looking the way she does and being as lovely as she is, I think we have to assume there’s always going to be someone. She is on the pill, I take it? At her age, she must be.’
‘Yes, she’s on the pill, but she only went on quite recently, I think because all her friends are on it, if only to be prepared.’
‘Mm, sounds wise. You know I was rather fond of Parker. It’s a shame she went off him.’
‘I think he’d agree with you on that, because he keeps texting wanting to see her.’
‘Poor love is probably totally heartbroken, and I fear he won’t be the only one to suffer such a fate at our darling girl’s hands.’
‘Not that we’re biased,’ Emma responded drily.
‘Not at all,’ Berry agreed.
Twenty minutes later, after making the bed and cleaning round the bathroom, Emma was back in front of her computer trying not to read too much into an unexpected message, and failing. Just wanted to recommend a charming little book called The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. If you haven’t already read it, I think you’ll enjoy it.
Once again he hadn’t signed his name, but it was obviously from Philip Leesom and she could only wonder, since she hadn’t read the book, if it might contain some sort of allusive message for her to decipher or respond to, perhaps in a similar way. How bizarre, and even romantic, it could be to use passages from favourite books as billets-doux, and what an exciting challenge it would be trying to find the right one to recommend next. However, even if she was right, and she almost certainly wasn’t, there was simply no way she could enter into any sort of flirtation with one of Lauren’s teachers.