A Mother Like You

by Ruby Speechley

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was a fresh chilly morning when Kate and James arrived in Southampton the following Friday. They drove straight to the marina to host a boat party event they’d organised for the local business community. All the way down Kate had been going over in her mind what to say to Paul when they met the next morning. How she could persuade him to let her off the full amount and end it now. If he didn’t, she’d have to look into taking out a personal loan. The money would never make up for her mistakes, but at least she’d sleep a little easier at night knowing she’d paid her fair share. The only problem was she had the feeling it would never be enough for Paul, that he’d keep coming back for more.

  James parked at Town Quay and they walked along the pontoon to the Princess Caroline moored a few metres away. The crew showed them round to make sure everything was in order before the guests started arriving. The upper deck had been closed off to the elements and the middle and bridge decks, where the restaurant and stage area were set up, were already laid out and decorated with fresh flowers. Kate visited the galley to check the food for the brunch buffet had been prepared. Flute glasses were lined up on the bar for the welcome drinks of Prosecco, Buck’s Fizz and orange juice.

  On her way back up to greet the guests she checked her phone was on silent, but immediately wished she hadn’t. A notification was on the locked screen. @BammerGirl21 had tagged her in a tweet. She couldn’t help clicking on her notifications. There was a GIF of a drunk girl crying to another girl: why am I so ugly? in dancing words underneath. The message read:

  You’re so ugly how can he bear to look at you every day?

  This wasn’t random. It felt personal, like they knew her, but maybe she didn’t know them, which meant it could be anyone. She immediately blocked the account and switched her phone off.

  The first guests arrived at 10.45 a.m. promptly. James invited each guest on board, shook hands with them, then ticked the business off his list. A crew member showed them to a table full of business name badges. Kate shook their hands and introduced herself. She scrutinised their faces for any sign of someone who was out to get her. The waiter offered them a drink from his silver tray. By 11.15 a.m., almost everyone had arrived, except a few who’d had to cancel due to sickness. But minutes before they were about to begin the first speech, Kate spotted a man in a navy suit hurrying towards the boat. She alerted James, who rushed over to greet him.

  ‘P. L. Gardening Services,’ the man said, looking past James, straight at Kate. She blinked back at him and slowly the penny dropped who it was. Paul. Hair slicked back, designer stubble, just like he used to have it. Shit. How could she not have realised he was on the guest list? Of course, his business would be in this county: Hampshire and Wight. It hadn’t even occurred to her. Part of her had assumed he’d been exaggerating about owning a gardening business, that he was more of a casual odd-job man. But here he was, grinning at her, looking almost unrecognisably dapper in a sharp suit, gold cufflinks and a crisp white shirt open at the neck.

  ‘Are you okay, do you want to sit down?’ James asked as he rejoined her on the small stage.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she whispered and passed him the microphone.

  ‘You look very pale,’ he said before he spoke to the audience.

  And she felt it – as though all the blood had been sucked out of her. How was she going to survive a whole day with Paul here? Somehow she had to keep him away from James. What was he up to?

  After James’s speech welcoming everyone and announcing the details of the day ahead, he introduced the local mayor who had joined them for brunch. The plan was to set sail around the Solent and moor off the coast of the Isle of Wight for afternoon tea. There would be an opportunity for guests to have a ride in the speed boat, if they were feeling brave enough, which Kate wasn’t.

  When everyone had finished brunch, the mayor stood up and thanked them all for coming then spoke about the value of the local business community. He thanked Hampshire and Wight Council for organising such an excellent business networking event. After a few minutes, Kate zoned out, her mind too scrambled with the next phase of the trip and trying to fathom how to manage Paul being here. Every time she glanced in his direction his eyes were fixed on her.

  Despite the cold weather, the day was bright, sunny and calm. Kate and James mingled with the guests as they set off on the mini cruise, making sure everyone was fed and watered and in good spirits. All the time Kate tried to watch where James and Paul were, ready to spring between them if they got too close. Paul seemed to know several of the other business owners, so he was suitably occupied chatting to a group, glass of bubbly in hand.

  Once they’d moored off the Isle of Wight, some of the more adventurous guests took rides in the speedboat, including Paul who was next in the queue for a ride. She imagined herself jetting towards the beach, Bond style with a briefcase of cash, and Paul standing at the water’s edge wearing Speedos, arms crossed waiting for her.

  As soon as Paul had gone in the speedboat, Kate left James in charge of who was next in line for a ride, while she went to the galley to check on afternoon tea with the chef. The finger sandwiches were being freshly made, but when she checked the numbers, there weren’t enough for the eighty or so guests. She went through the checklist again and the chef offered extra mini cheese scones and slices of quiche and fruit loaf.

  By the time she got back to the queue, the last person was climbing into the speedboat. Where had Paul gone? And James was nowhere to be seen. A feeling of unease crept through her. She searched up and down, politely checking on the guests as she frantically looked for James. She asked a couple of the crew, but no one had seen where he’d gone. Then at the far end of the deck, she spotted Paul’s head and shoulders, his back to her, deep in conversation by the look of it, although she couldn’t see who with. She squeezed through the groups of people chatting and drinking, a fixed smile on her face, hoping to bump into James on the way. How could he just disappear and leave it all to her? Maybe he’d gone to the bathroom. Afternoon tea was being brought out at any minute.

  But as she got nearer to Paul, she heard James’s laugh. Her body turned to ice.

  ‘There she is.’ Kate heard James say. And then she saw that he was the one who’d been keeping Paul so animated all this time. He’d been shielded by Paul’s body so she couldn’t see him, deliberately she was sure of it. Paul had literally cornered her husband. What the hell had they been talking about?

  ‘You didn’t tell me your Isle of Wight friend Paul was here,’ James said.

  Kate glared at Paul. He grinned back, hand shading his forehead, squinting at her in the afternoon winter sun beaming through the window.

  ‘Oh I get it; you didn’t know he’d be here either?’ James laughed. ‘Paul tells me you dated each other when you were teenagers. You didn’t say, darling.’

  Kate squinted. She wished she could disappear. She did not want to have a conversation about this or anything with either of them.

  ‘I’m sure Kate will tell you all about it. My lips are sealed. Never spill an ex-girlfriend’s secrets.’ Both men laughed. Kate wanted to throw up.

  ‘I need your help, James,’ she said with as little emotion as possible. She about turned and walked off. James followed behind, but she couldn’t speak until they were on their own on the top deck.

  ‘Why are you talking about me? What has he been saying?’

  ‘Nothing really, what are you so worried about? So you have secrets too, now we’re even.’ His smirk enraged her even more.

  ‘I don’t like the way he’s cosying up to you, talking about me, plus you’re leaving everything to me downstairs.’

  ‘Oh, I get it, you don’t like me catching you out. I told you about me and Susie, but you denied Paul was an old boyfriend. Why didn’t you want me to know? Any other dark secrets you want to share with me?’ He looked genuinely amused by her outrage.

  ‘Like what?’ For all she knew, Paul had told him every
thing about their lives together.

  He laughed. ‘Nothing.’

  Kate swished past him, unable to contain her anger. As she stomped back downstairs to the galley, she bumped straight into Paul.

  ‘You all right, Katie? You look a bit upset.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ She tried to squeeze past him, but he stuck his arm out to stop her.

  ‘You’re not worried I spilt the beans, are you?’

  ‘I don’t know, have you?’ She tried to calm herself, smooth back her hair, but she was flushed and sweating. He could have told James every detail, although she doubted it because he was still talking to her, laughing at her.

  ‘Come on, I’m not a bastard, am I?’ He stroked her cheek.

  ‘You can forget about meeting up tomorrow, I’m going home.’

  ‘Ah that’s a shame, because I was prepared to let you off the rest of the money.’

  ‘Oh. Really?’ Kate did a double-take, frowning at him. Did he really mean that or was there a ‘but’ coming? Perhaps she’d misjudged him. She searched his eyes for clues he was joking.

  ‘You need to meet me in the morning at 10.45 a.m. sharp, because we’ve got another boat to catch.’ He smiled and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Have we?’ A shiver ran through her.

  ‘Yeah. I think you can guess what the deal is.’

  Part of her wanted to pay him the money and get out of there as soon as possible.

  ‘There’s someone special who’s dying to meet you.’ He grinned, watching her as the words sank in.

  She started trembling uncontrollably as though she’d stepped onto a vibrating exercise machine. Now she could see clearly what he was doing, making her face up to what she did, what she’d been running from for two decades. The details of that day were filtering back to her every time she saw him, and it made her more ashamed of herself than ever. The passing of time hadn’t eased her guilt or shame: it had only amplified it.

  Chapter Thirty

  On Saturday morning, Kate sat at the front of the ferry, watching it skim through the water, Paul dozing across three seats next to her. She couldn’t sit still, shifting this way and that, checking her phone, zipping it up in her handbag then doing it all again a few seconds later. She’d hardly slept, going over and over in her mind how she was going to handle today, this meeting. Her stomach, in fact her whole body, was full of jitters. She scratched the eczema between her fingers. Paul was going to enjoy watching her squirm. It would be like one of those meetings set up after a crime, the chance for a victim to confront their perpetrator for the first time. Find out what made them do it, if their remorse was real or just for the benefit of reducing their sentence. Who’d get the most out of it? Could it really help a victim, or did it add the one detail that was missing from their nightmares? – the face of the monster that caused them harm.

  Her mobile beeped. She grabbed it from her bag and read the message:

  You don’t deserve to be a mother!

  Her body jerked forward as though someone had stabbed her. This was from a different number again. Clearly not from Paul as he was asleep. Who was it? Were they here on the boat? She scanned round her. Lots of people were on their phones: was it from one of them? She picked up her handbag and walked up and down the aisles. A woman glanced up from her phone and frowned. Was it her? But who was she?

  Kate moved to the lounge bar. The queue wrapped right round the corner, and every time she saw a frosted glass of wine or beer, she mentally moved a little closer to joining the line. What prevented her, apart from being pregnant, was knowing that the alcohol would make her sleepy and she needed to stay alert.

  She bought the last copy of The Times and tried to read, but her mind kept jumping from the words on the page to an image of Paul’s smug face, knowing he had the upper hand whichever way she turned. She thought of James in their hotel last night, talking so innocently about his school days and who he’d like to meet up with again and the worst person he could hear from.

  ‘If these people were your best friends, why didn’t you keep in touch?’ he’d asked. Always so trusting of her. Believing that she was going to a school reunion with Paul. She’d said as little as possible, that she couldn’t remember why, not wanting to complicate her lie any further, but now the question of why she hadn’t maintained some sort of contact floated untethered in her mind like a lost balloon.

  The Isle of Wight seemed an idyllic place to live. Paul always said he loved growing up near the beach. She remembered her fascination with the different coloured sand layered in anything from a miniature glass lighthouse to a teddy bear. The first time she’d visited was with her parents when she’d been about nine years old. The bed and breakfast they’d stayed in had neatly set tables, each with cotton napkins and a glass dish of butter curls. Every morning for two weeks, they greeted a woman who sat with her husband by the unlit fireplace. She couldn’t stop staring at Kate. On their last day, she handed Kate a small package and her parents allowed her to unwrap it at the table. Inside was a red purse with a long shoulder strap. On the front, printed in gold lettering was the name ‘Jennifer’. Elizabeth had squeezed Kate’s thigh under the table as a threat not to open her mouth. Kate smiled and nodded her thanks at the couple. The husband had passed his wife a cotton hanky and patted her hand while she dabbed her eyes. Kate hadn’t understood why she couldn’t tell them Jennifer wasn’t her name.

  By the time the ferry docked, it was approaching midday. The greyness of the sky and sea had merged into one. A seagull screeched overhead. The salty damp air and the faint aroma of fish was strangely reassuring. She followed Paul past a ruddy-faced man with an Asian woman, whose childlike frame was balanced on razor-sharp heels. Behind them were three elderly ladies in walking boots, each gripping their hiking sticks.

  ‘Let’s eat,’ he said over his shoulder, striding ahead of her. He pointed to the end of the causeway. Kate’s stomach wobbled at the thought of food, but she refused to let him know how nervous she was. She checked her watch for the hundredth time. What if she didn’t show up? She might have decided against coming or never had any intention of seeing her. But a tiny niggle she’d tried to ignore crept into her mind. What if she was the one sending the malicious messages? Maybe it was part of Paul’s plan to scare her. She felt the baby flutter. She lightly touched her bump, well hidden under her loose-fitting dress and swing coat. Was she safe coming here on her own with both of them out for her blood?

  They crossed the road and walked in silence to the bottom of Union Street, to the Italian restaurant on the corner. They had a good view of Ryde Esplanade and the sea beyond. The waitress greeted them as though they were family. She showed them straight to their table. Another couple about their age were sitting by the window sipping wine and chatting. Every sill was decorated with colourful bags of different shaped pasta and tall elegant bottles of olive oil.

  ‘Can I get you some drinks?’ the waitress asked.

  ‘Bottle of red?’ Paul nodded to Kate.

  ‘I’m not drinking; could I have sparkling water, please?’

  ‘Thought you’d be wanting a stiff one.’ He raised an eyebrow, took his suit jacket off and draped it over the back of his chair.

  ‘I’m fine with water, thank you.’

  The waitress came back with their drinks and a basket of bread then took their food order. Kate could only manage soup of the day.

  ‘Cheers.’ Paul held up his glass.

  Kate wasn’t sure what they were meant to be celebrating. The waitress brought his starter of deep fried calamari. Strange to be eating a meal with him again. It felt too intimate, his feet bumping into hers, the way he piled food into his mouth and wiped his lips on the back of his hand. The lightly spiced aftershave radiated from the warmth of his body. She thought of all the weekends she’d spent with him when they first moved in together, whole mornings in bed, and afternoons visiting galleries and exhibitions. She would make them a sandwich each, wrapped in foil, hidden in her du
ffle coat pockets so they could take a bite as they walked round and spent as much time as possible absorbing the paintings and sculptures. Most people spent about thirty seconds on each one before moving on to the next. But they would sit on the floor or a bench and examine them in detail, making notes on brushstrokes, use of colour and light and the uniqueness and beauty of each piece. Their passion for art had connected them so deeply it had run through their veins. How could this man have once been her whole life? Part of her missed the young girl she used to be, when life had been simpler because she was unafraid of being herself. Now she’d reinvented herself as a businesswoman with a practised public face, careful not to let the mask slip and reveal the real her hidden underneath.

  ‘Is this settled now, no more demands?’ She took a slice of crusty bread and ripped it into small pieces.

  ‘Up to you, isn’t it?’ Paul said, a huge grin on his face.

  ‘What else do you want from me? Can’t you let me get on with my life after this?’

  ‘Wow, still a hard bitch, aren’t you?’

  She walked straight into that. Her nerves were beginning to show. She needed to stay composed.

  ‘I want you to face her, look her in the eye, maybe even say sorry.’

  ‘How is she? You haven’t told me anything.’ Kate found it hard to say her name aloud after so many years of suppressing it.

  ‘You can ask her yourself soon enough.’

  ‘And you think meeting her will make up for it all?’

  ‘Of course not, but it’s a start.’

  The waitress brought their mains. Paul tucked straight into his venison steak in peppercorn sauce. Her tomato soup smelt rich and delicious. In other circumstances she might have enjoyed it. She scattered the pieces of torn bread on top and dipped her spoon into the well of red liquid.

  ‘Hasn’t she ever asked about me?’ She blew across the spoon and stared at the streaks of white above Paul’s ears which stretched further than she remembered all those weeks ago in her house.