She skipped up the steps and rang Malachy’s front doorbell. Six whole weeks, she thought, with only a measly couple of postcards signed ‘Best wishes’. He’s got some explaining to do! I shan’t tell him I didn’t go skiing though. She pushed her hair into place whilst she waited for him. I must get him to give me a key, she thought. Could I live here, or would I be better being independent to begin with?
‘A belated happy New Year,’ he said, opening the door and embracing her. ‘I’ve missed you. Mmm, you smell delicious! Good festive season?’
‘Actually, no,’ Elly said.
‘Me neither. Never mind, you’re here now.’ He stood aside for her to go up the stairs before him. ‘Would you like a drink first?’
‘Isn’t your mysterious American friend here? I thought we were going to talk about my career?’
‘Darling girl, I’m so sorry. He couldn’t make it after all. Pressure of work. You know how it is.’
‘What?’ Elly stopped abruptly halfway up.
‘He said to promise you he’d see you next time he’s over here. He’s a dear man, I’m sure he’ll keep his word.’
‘But… I was relying on meeting him,’ Elly began. ‘You prom –’
‘It’s a damned shame,’ Malachy agreed, patting her bottom. ‘On you go. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.’
Elly frowned but went up, and along the landing into the drawing room, where she stood in the large bay window with her back to him.
‘Don’t be vexed, sweeting,’ Malachy said. ‘There’ll be other times.’
‘But I’m selling my business!’ Elly protested. ‘I can’t just enjoy myself. I have to have some way to earn my living.’
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘A calm interlude as a kept woman wouldn’t do you any harm at all. You’re all tense and stressed out. You’ve even got a little pink quivering nose!’ He came forward and kissed the end of it gently and then stood back, regarding her gravely.
‘Would you really?’
‘Would I really what?’
‘Keep me?’
Malachy made a little deprecatory gesture with his hands. ‘Well, naturally I meant Paul, but yes I’ll certainly help pamper you, you know I will. I’m having a Campari and soda, how about you?’
‘White wine,’ Elly said automatically. He’s got no idea what I’ve done, she thought. How shall I tell him? What if he isn’t overjoyed? She didn’t know why she suddenly had doubts. She had been so confident. She stood in the window and hugged her arms around herself.
‘Poor love, you’re freezing,’ Malachy said, coming in with a tall half-filled wineglass and giving it to her. ‘Isn’t the climate just bloody these days?’
Oh God, Elly thought, he’s talking about the weather! He surely can’t be bored with me already.
‘This time of year is always a letdown, don’t you think?’ he said. Worse and worse.
‘I tried to phone you before you left,’ she said, ‘but you were never in, and you didn’t answer any of my messages.’
‘Damned machine,’ Malachy apologised, sitting down. ‘Somehow I can never bring myself to get to grips with it. Rob set it up for me, but all it does is to double the number of people I don’t want to speak to.’
‘Including me?’
‘Of course not, darling. Whatever’s the matter? You’ve been as perverse as a porcupine ever since you arrived! Come and sit down.’ He patted the couch next to him.
‘Something happened over Christmas,’ Elly said. She rested against the button-backed leather and closed her eyes.
‘Something bad?’
‘Yes and no.’ She opened her eyes again and took a gulp of wine. ‘Paul’s got some woman.’
‘I see.’ He looked for the first time like an actor playing for time, having forgotten his lines. He’s a fake, Elly suddenly realised. He never says what he truly thinks; even now, when he’s supposed to be in love with me! Her resentment made her strong. She thought, I’m not going to help him out. This is the ultimate test. If he tries to get some clues from me about what I want him to say, then I’ll know for sure that his attachment to me isn’t real…
‘So, how do you feel about that?’ Malachy put a sympathetic hand on her knee. Elly shook it off.
‘I thought you’d be pleased!’ she cried. ‘Paul’s leaving me. We could be together all the time. How do you feel?’
He rose to his feet and walked deliberately over to the fireplace, where he poked at the glowing coals unnecessarily. Then he leant against it elegantly. ‘Startled,’ he said. He waved his hands expressively. ‘Concerned for you … This isn’t something one can react to instantaneously in some sort of slick sound bite, you know. It needs considerable thought.’
‘No,’ Elly said, getting up to leave. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong. It just needs a spontaneous response from the heart. But maybe, as I’m discovering, you aren’t any good without a script.’
Living with Rob seems entirely natural, Nell thought. Our lives fit together almost effortlessly on a practical level. Rob’s taken command of the woodburner and supplies it with regular firewood, and I do the cooking and… most other things, now I think about it. But if I put some of his dirty clothes into the washing machine with my stuff, it’s simply because it would seem petty-minded only to do half a load. I iron the odd thing of his too when doing my own, but then I quite like ironing.
‘Wonderful,’ he said, coming downstairs wearing a freshly laundered shirt. ‘The Mad Cow never ironed anything.’
Nell had felt obscurely from the very beginning that she was in some sort of contest with the aftertaste of Cassie, and only if she could win hands down would she feel even adequate. At the moment she was clearly doing all right on the domestic front, but the very fact that he was comparing her with his wife made her wonder whether he actually saw her in those terms. She began to feel a little put out that he hadn’t shown any interest in sleeping with her. She wasn’t that unattractive, was she?
She began to wear a little make-up at home to see if he would notice. Then she wasn’t sure if he had or not, because he didn’t mention it. She dabbed a spot or two of Anaïs Anaïs behind her ears. Still no comment. She thought of Martin and how, in Rob’s place, she would have had to fight him off, and smiled wryly to herself. But if Rob had been equally as keen, would she then have accused him of taking advantage of the situation? Perhaps he couldn’t win. She tried to see it from his point of view. Maybe he was unsure of himself; crushed by his experience with Cassie. Nell decided he needed some unambiguous encouragement.
An opportunity presented itself the following Saturday when Rob was sitting at the kitchen table opening his post. Nell had already discarded hers as being junk mail, and was about to put some soup on for lunch.
‘At last!’ Rob muttered under his breath.
‘What?’
‘My decree nisi has arrived. Only another two or three months and I’ll be shot of the bloody woman for ever.’
‘That’s great,’ Nell said with enthusiasm.
‘Of course, it won’t actually be like that,’ Rob said, making a face. ‘To be realistic, I shall still have to cooperate with her for the next God knows how many years, until the children are grown up and off our hands.’
‘But at least you won’t be married to her.’
‘No, thank the Lord.’
That evening Nell prepared a special meal, and set it out on the table with wine and candles and a background of Beethoven. Rob came in in his stockinged feet, having taken his boots off, and switched the lights on.
‘What’s all this?’
‘Turn them off again,’ Nell said. ‘I’m recreating that evening when we had a power cut. D’you remember?’
‘I remember being bothered about the Land Rover stuck in the snow,’ Rob said. ‘I was worried I’d buckled the axle.’
‘Sit down anyway. I’m just dishing up.’
‘Looks good.’
‘I hope it’s one of your favourites.’ Nell
handed him a plateful, and he helped himself to sprouts.
‘So, what’s all this in aid of?’
‘I thought we’d celebrate the beginning of your life as a free man.’
‘That’s nice. I’m pleased about it naturally, but I didn’t think … it would be any big deal for you.’
‘Well, that’s up to you.’ She said it deliberately.
Rob actually blushed. Even in the half-light she could see the colour rise in his cheeks. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘I had no idea.’
I’m out of practice at this sort of thing, Rob thought. Haven’t chatted up anyone for years. Makes me feel about seventeen again, and… flustered. Didn’t think she fancied me. Have there been other signs I’ve simply missed? I’ve been so preoccupied with the divorce and the kids … But it could be dodgy, with us living in the same place – what if it all goes wrong? Oh, to hell with all my puritan prudence. She’s lovely! I’d be crazy to pass up a chance like this. He finished his food and sat back, smiling at her.
‘More wine?’ Nell asked.
‘No,’ he said, holding her glance. ‘I want to be totally compos mentis tonight.’ He put a hand out across the table and took one of hers.
‘Why?’ Her eyes looked darker than usual. Was it only because of the subdued light?
‘Because I want to know exactly what I’m doing.’
‘What did you have in mind?’ She took her hand back.
‘I’m not sure. What grabs you most: spontaneity or strategy?’
‘Mmm,’ Nell regarded him steadily. ‘Well, strategy can be a bit too inflexible maybe… but on the other hand, too much spontaneity can be disconcerting.’
‘What about honesty?’
‘Oh, honesty is absolutely essential.’
‘I’m glad about that.’
‘So, maybe an honest happy medium?’
‘Right.’ Rob took a breath. ‘Shall we go to bed?’
To his relief, Nell broke into a broad smile. ‘We didn’t mention finesse, did we?’
‘Never touch the stuff.’
‘So I see.’
‘Well then…’ Rob leant across the table and kissed her on the mouth. There was a sharp fizzing noise and the acrid smell of burning hair. ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed, slapping the side of his head. ‘Bloody candles!’
Nell burst out laughing and getting to her feet, switched on the lights. Then she blew out the candles, came round to his side of the table and took his hand.
‘Come on,’ she said, ‘it’s safer upstairs.’
Chapter Sixteen
Mic was coming to appreciate that she had finally met someone even more manipulative than herself, and she felt stumped. She now realised that whatever she did, Cassie would somehow top it. But she’s dependent on me, Mic thought, so how the fuck can she?
One incident in particular still rankled. She hadn’t wanted to hurt the children’s feelings way back on Christmas Day by saying, ‘No you can’t come. Me and Gav’s goin’ to me mum’s on our tod,’ which certainly was what she should have done, but which Cassie, of course, had banked upon her not saying … It had simply not occurred to her that Cassie would want to get rid of her own children on such a day. She, Mic Potton, was losing the plot! I’ve got to get out, she thought. It’s a nice warm house and everything, but it’s not worth selling my soul for. I could go back to Mum’s for a bit. I could maybe even get that council flat? I’ve been on the list long enough.
‘Mic?’ Cassie called from the front hall. ‘Did you do that ironing I asked you to?’
Right! Mic thought. Perfect opportunity. She walked to the top of the stairs and leant on the banister rail. ‘Nope,’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s too bad,’ Cassie said crossly. ‘I need that dress this afternoon. I thought you knew that.’
‘Ironing,’ Mic said, ‘is not part of me job. I fought you knew that.’
‘Oh, Mic,’ Cassie sighed, ‘you’re not having one of your moods again, are you? Is it the time of the month? It’s like trying to deal with a primitive trade union, negotiating with you these days. I thought we agreed we wouldn’t have who-does-what disputes.’
‘Fine ‘slong’s it’s fifty-fifty,’ Mic said, ‘but it ain’t, is it?’
‘Well, you’re so much better at doing –’ Cassie began, but was interrupted by a quarrel breaking out on the landing behind Mic.
‘That’s mine!’ Gavin complained.
‘No it’s not. Everything in this house belongs to us!’ Josh shouted. ‘You don’t really live here.’
‘Stop it!’ Mic cried, whipping round and nearly clouting Josh on the back of the head. ‘Don’t you never let me hear you say that again, Josh Hayhoe. You got that?’
Cassie ran up the stairs. ‘Did she hit you?’ she demanded of her son. ‘I saw that!’ She rounded on Mic.
‘Course I bleedin’ didn’t,’ Mic retorted. ‘Not that he wasn’t askin’ for a slap.’
‘How dare you?’ Cassie shouted. ‘He’s absolutely right. Everything in this house is ours. You’re only here on sufferance.’
Mic clenched her teeth. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘that’s it. Pack up your things, Gav, we’re off.’ She went into their room and began stuffing her clothes into her rucksack.
‘You can’t do that,’ Cassie sneered, leaning against the doorframe. ‘You’ve got nowhere to go.’
‘Anywhere’s better’n here.’
‘You were grateful enough for my charity at the beginning.’
‘Charity be buggered!’ Mic almost laughed. ‘Slaves have done less than what I’ve done fer you. Anyway, you’ll be rubbish wivout me. Who’s goin’ ter pick up the pieces the next time you frow a wobbly? Eh?’
‘Please don’t concern yourself,’ Cassie said icily. ‘I’m not entirely without resources, you know.’
‘You must need ter make a lot of friends,’ Mic observed. ‘You certainly get froo ’em and spit ’em out again quick enough.’
‘What would you know about friends, a sponger like you?’ Cassie snorted.
‘You askin’ fer a fat lip or what?’ Mic advanced on her.
‘Oh, that’s right. Violence – the last resort of the incoherent.’
‘What, you mean like sarcasm – the last resort of the mental case?’
‘I’m not going to waste my time bandying words with someone like you,’ Cassie said wearily. ‘I’ve got better things to do,’ and she marched off, ushering an astonished Josh and Rosie before her.
‘Yeah, like the ironing fr’instance,’ Mic called after her.
‘Mum?’ Gavin asked, wide-eyed. ‘Where we goin’?’
‘To yer gran’s.’
‘Bu there isn’t r –’
‘Not anuvver word, right? I’ve had it up to ’ere.’
It didn’t take long to pack. Neither of them owned much. Mic took pleasure in leaving Cassie’s Christmas presents ostentatiously behind. She didn’t bother making the beds either, or unblocking the toilet. When they humped their luggage downstairs, Cassie was nowhere to be seen.
‘Good riddance!’ Mic shouted as they opened the front door. There was a howl and a scuffle. The kitchen door burst open, and Rosie came running out, crying noisily.
‘Don’t go… Mic!’ She clasped her round her knees and held on tightly.
‘Oh, Rosie …’ Mic very nearly wept too. ‘I’m sorry. I love you very much, yeah? This is nuffink to do wif you. It’s just your mum and me don’t get on.’
‘Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go,’ Rosie wailed.
Mic picked her up and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I’ll see you again soon,’ she promised. ‘Straight up.’
‘Put her down!’ Cassie ordered, out of sight in the kitchen. ‘And leave your key on the hall front table.’
‘Bye, love,’ Mic said to Rosie. ‘Gotta go, OK?’ Then she set the child on her feet again, shouldered her rucksack, and gave Rosie her front door key. ‘Tell you what,’ she said, ‘see how far you can sling that, eh?’
She and Gavi
n were halfway to the front gate by the time Rosie had stopped swinging her arm, and by the time the key had landed somewhere in a fallow flowerbed, they were walking side by side along the frosty pavement towards the town.
‘Knock, knock,’ Gavin said, after a while.
‘Who’s there?’
‘Ewan.’
‘Ewan who?’
‘You and me’s well outta there.’
Nell and Rob sat side by side in Nell’s big bed, propped up on pillows and drinking tea. It was Saturday morning and late, judging by the full daylight beyond the iced-up windows. Rob had on an old jersey to keep warm; Nell, the top of a pair of brushed cotton pyjamas.
‘You look like a cherub.’ He leant over to kiss her cheek.
‘I feel positively devilish,’ Nell said, ‘after last night!’
‘Was it all right?’
‘It was lovely.’ A little overemphatic?
‘But?’
‘Well, it was strange, wasn’t it? I suppose it always is, the first time you sleep with someone, especially if you’ve got into a routine with the person before. It takes time to adjust, to mesh… if that’s the word.’
‘To bed in?’ Rob suggested.
Nell smiled. ‘Mmm. I’m sure we will though, aren’t you?’
‘You haven’t had second thoughts?’
‘Certainly not! Why, have you?’
‘No,’ Rob said. ‘More tea?’
‘I’d love some, but you’ll have to get out of bed.’
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