by Cathy Kelly
It didn’t take her long to clean the bathroom, then she took a long shower before wrapping herself in her dressing gown. Her hair was wet too and her make-up was long gone. Better that she emerge from the bathroom like that, she told herself. Tynan would get entirely the wrong impression if she came out all made up and scented.
He had made himself at home and was drinking red wine and watching MTV. He’d taken his T-shirt off and was wearing what looked like one of her own ancient gym T-shirts, a merchandising one from a long-ago movie.
‘Terrible crap,’ he kept saying at the screen.
Pixie had set herself up on the couch far away from him on her own patch, and Leila felt a surge of love for the little dog. Loyal girl, she thought. Clever girl, too. Far cleverer than me. Pixie wouldn’t have fallen to pieces when Tynan had left – she’d never have married him in the first place.
‘So,’ she said, taking a seat beside the dog, ‘what are you here for?’
‘I told you: to see you and tell you I made a huge mistake.’ Tynan gave her his dazzling smile.
‘Did Diane dump you?’
For the first time, he looked taken aback.
‘No-o,’ he said, rather too slowly. ‘It was my decision. It was a mistake, leaving you.’
‘Really,’ said Leila, buying time. ‘Well, it’s over between you and me, obviously. I didn’t wait for you,’ she said coolly.
She had waited. Oh, how she’d waited, longing for his call, for his touch. Wishing she’d begged harder that morning.
‘You’re seeing someone else?’ His eyes widened in surprise.
Leila nodded, thinking of Devlin. She wished she really was seeing him: that would give her the strength to do what she knew was right. Tynan wasn’t good enough for her. He would never treat her any differently than he had that morning he walked out. He would leave again if he felt like it and come back again when the mood hit him.
She deserved more than that. Susie and Katy had been totally right on that score.
‘Who?’
‘Who what?’ she asked.
‘Who are you seeing?’
Try as she might, Leila couldn’t stop herself blushing at the thought of Devlin. Even with Tynan here, wanting to be with her again, the very thought of Devlin made her skin heat up. He was more of a man than Tynan was. He was kind, good, decent, passionate …
‘Bullshit!’ Tynan said triumphantly. ‘You’re a crap liar, Leila. Always were.’
In one fluid moment he was beside her, hands trying to undo the knot on her dressing gown.
‘Stop it!’ she said, pushing him away. ‘I’m not lying. There is someone else.’
They glared at each other, and then Tynan seemed to sink into the couch. She could almost sense him regrouping, trying to come at it from another angle.
‘I’ve messed it all up, baby. I’m so sorry. Can you give me another chance? Don’t we deserve that? We’re married, after all.’
Leila wanted to cry that she’d spent many sad hours on this couch thinking just that and wondering where it had all gone wrong. It wasn’t good enough to come here and announce that he was ready to be married again.
She stood up and then held up the hand where she’d once worn her wedding and engagement rings. It was bare.
‘I’m sorry, Tynan, but I’ve moved on. Now please leave.’
He caught the hand quickly and kissed her fingers.
‘I’ve hurt you, baby, but we can get over this.’
He got to his feet effortlessly, and Pixie growled.
‘Steady, girl – steady, girls,’ he added, smiling that charming smile of his. ‘I love you, Leila. Always have. I just had a bit of a meltdown, mid-life crisis, whatever. I will apologise any way you want, honey.’ He flicked a card on to the coffee table. ‘New number,’ he said. ‘I’ll call.’
‘Don’t call me,’ she said furiously. ‘You’re months too late.’
‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do,’ she said. ‘I waited for you, you little shit, and now you come back? Forget it.’
A gleam shimmered in Tynan’s eyes, and Leila was furious with herself for telling him the truth.
‘Get out!’ she yelled so loudly that Pixie jumped, startled.
‘Don’t forget, I love you, Leila,’ said Tynan, and blowing them both a kiss, he picked up his jacket and discarded T-shirt and left, shutting the apartment door firmly behind him.
Leila slammed the locks home, then looked at the still-wet Pixie, sank on to the couch and burst into tears.
Instantly Pixie plonked herself down on her mistress and began to lick Leila’s face.
‘You smell lovely now,’ Leila told her, not caring that her dressing gown was getting wet.
And then she remembered. Tynan’s scent. She used to love it, and now she didn’t, not any more. His aftershave was a heavily advertised one, all male models with fake stubble and wearing tiny bathing shorts.
It wasn’t masculine at all, really. Not like Devlin’s …
At the thought of him, she stilled. If Devlin had been here, who knew what would be happening right now. She breathed out heavily. What had she done? Fallen out of love with Tynan, who hadn’t deserved her, and fallen in love with Devlin, who was definitely not the right man for her. Who barely knew she existed unless he was in a foreign hotel and desperate.
Yes, with her track record, celibacy was definitely the way forward.
Eighteen
There was never any heart truly great and generous, that was not also tender and compassionate. ROBERT FROST
The industrial kitchen of the Golden Vanilla Cake Shop was still redolent of the day’s baking – a scent that encompassed vanilla, the soft hint of cinnamon from one South American-inspired dark chocolate cake, and the comforting aroma of lemon from the lemon angel cake they’d made in vast quantities for a double silver wedding where two cakes were needed.
It was nearly half six and everyone else had gone home. On the board beside the kitchen phone was the list of tasks for the day, all neatly ticked off.
Vonnie was tired, but she had one more appointment to get through: a couple who needed a high-speed cake for a registry office wedding in March because they were moving to Brussels.
Most people booked their cakes well in advance, making it difficult to slip emergency jobs into the system without disrupting the natural flow of the business. Yet when Vonnie had received the email from one half of the couple begging for a speedy cake to be made, she’d found it hard to say no.
Making wedding cakes was such an emotive business in many ways. It was hard to turn down people getting married. She’d loved meeting that sweet young couple where the girl, Katy, was pregnant. She didn’t feel that ache in her heart at the sight of people in love any more. Ryan was responsible for that. Wonderful, kind, loving Ryan.
The couple were due in at six thirty and Vonnie had the kettle boiled and a platter of cakes ready to go. Ryan and Shane were shopping for dinner together and said they’d have it cooked when she got home.
It was their third day in Poppy Lane and it still felt exciting and new, despite all the work that had to be done.
Ryan had taken a week off and had finished Shane’s bedroom, which was now blue, with a spotted pale and dark blue beanbag and a lovely desk for homework.
Next he was starting on Shelby’s room, and then on Ruby’s.
‘Ours can wait,’ Vonnie had said. ‘Let’s sort theirs out first.’
She felt that it would take more than painting Ruby’s bedroom to sort her problems out, but she hoped that the following weekend, the first they’d all be living together, would give her the chance to tackle the teenager properly. There was something closed down about Ruby lately. Ryan didn’t see it.
‘She loves you, Von,’ he said, misinterpreting Vonnie’s anxiety. ‘She loves the house.’
‘It’s not that,’ Vonnie said. ‘She’s not coping and I don’t know what to do about it.’
‘She’s a teenager,’ Ryan reminded
her.
Was that all it was? Vonnie hoped so.
Shane was beside himself with excitement at the thought of being in charge of dinner.
‘Ryan says we can make pasta and stuff it with cheese,’ he had told her that morning at breakfast.
‘Did he now?’ said Vonnie, grinning over at Ryan. ‘Or you could make something easier like a four-course banquet including partridge pie …’
‘Or we could see what’s on offer in the supermarket,’ Ryan said to Shane, swatting Vonnie on the behind with the day’s newspaper as she passed.
The front bell of the shop buzzed and Vonnie left the kitchen and hurried to open the door.
To her surprise, it wasn’t a couple standing there but a heavy-set woman of about her own age with shoulder-length dark hair, eyes clouded with too much make-up and wearing a heavy black coat against the cold.
‘Er, come in,’ said Vonnie, unable to shake off the feeling that something was very wrong.
For a start, there was one person instead of two. And the email had given her the impression that Amanda and Larry were young, keen to marry at speed so they could be married when they arrived in Brussels where Amanda had a high-powered job waiting for her. Yet here was this forty-something woman who seemed strangely familiar and whose accusing eyes were openly surveying Vonnie from head to toe.
‘You don’t look like I thought you would,’ said the woman slowly.
In that instant, Vonnie knew who she was.
Her face, the way she spoke, those dark eyes: she was the very image of Ruby. An older, heavier Ruby, but Ruby all the same.
This had to be Jennifer.
Vonnie had often wondered what she’d say if she and Ryan’s ex-wife ever met. So many words and ideas had clouded her head, many of them hot, angry accusations about the way Jennifer was deliberately making the whole business of separation far harder than it needed to be. About how she was clearly hurting Ruby by trying to force her to take sides – the opposite of what every divorce guidebook recommended; about how Jennifer had swiftly and totally absolved herself of any responsibility for the disintegration of her marriage; how she blamed everyone but herself.
Still, faced with Jennifer – who bore almost no resemblance to the smiling, curvy woman in the old photos Ryan had of them from when Ruby was a toddler – everything changed.
Vonnie had no desire to launch into an argument. There was, she realised with sudden and absolute certainty, no point.
The woman in front of her had anger and pain in her eyes in equal measure. Her hair was unkempt, she was wearing too much make-up and it had been carelessly slapped on. Vonnie could never imagine herself arriving at a rival’s business to tell her side of the story – but if she did, she knew she’d go into battle looking her best.
Jennifer was far beyond that place. She had no ‘best’ left, only anger.
Until that moment, Vonnie hadn’t grasped how hard it was for Ryan, Ruby and little Shelby. Only now that they were face to face could she see the anguish; it was obvious that Jennifer Morrison was utterly lost in her own misery. Some people couldn’t cope with life’s pain, and clearly Jennifer was one of them. They searched for someone else to blame because it was easier than either moving on or taking responsibility.
‘Would you like to sit for a moment, Jennifer?’ Vonnie said kindly, leading the way into the shop. ‘I had a couple of clients coming, but I am assuming that you are Amanda and Larry, that you made all that stuff about Brussels up and nobody else is actually due because they’d be here by now …?’
‘Yes. How did you know who I am?’
‘You look so like Ruby,’ Vonnie said. ‘You both have such beautiful eyes.’
Jennifer didn’t hesitate. She came in and sat on one of the floral armchairs. The showroom was still warm and she unbuttoned the coat, wriggled out of the sleeves uncomfortably and sat staring at the woman all the people in her life seemed to love.
Ryan loved her, for sure. Shelby did too, though she no longer let slip any little giveaway remarks about how nice Vonnie was – Ruby had trained it out of her. As for Ruby … Ruby said so little these days. But Jennifer knew that she liked Vonnie, and had done from the start.
Almost greedily, she took in everything about Vonnie’s appearance. The slimness was inevitable, wasn’t it? Jennifer Morrison, who’d battled with her weight all her life, stared in silence at Vonnie’s lean figure, the delicate ankles emphasised by flat pumps, the naturally blonde hair in a sleek ponytail, and the high, finely arched pale brows over silver-grey eyes.
‘You look different to what I expected,’ she said again. ‘Less obvious. I thought you’d be all red lipstick and a push-up bra.’
Vonnie’s smile barely touched the corners of her mouth.
‘A bit of a cliché, don’t you think?’ she said carefully.
‘Clichés become clichés for a reason,’ Jennifer replied smartly. She would not like this woman, she wouldn’t. Vonnie was ruining everything.
‘Why are you here, Jennifer?’ Vonnie thought she already knew the answer: Ryan’s ex-wife wanted to pour out her anger and recriminations, blaming Vonnie for all the things wrong in her world. ‘You could have come to meet me at the house, to see where your daughters will be staying. I told Ryan that you should come, so you’d feel happy knowing where the girls will be. We could have done this the formal way. It would have been good for Ruby and Shelby to see us together—’
She got no further.
‘Don’t say that you know what’s good for my daughters. I know what’s good for Ruby and Shelby!’ Jennifer said. ‘Me! I’m their mother. I know what’s good for them.’
She was on the verge of tears, and Vonnie felt it keenly again: that Jennifer Morrison was not the monster of her imagination. She was lost, alone, unable to fix herself and desperately trying to get other people to do it for her.
Yet that couldn’t happen in the real world: as Vonnie knew, you had to fix yourself. Nor could you wreck other people in the process, people like Ruby, whom she was worried about.
She spoke bluntly, tiredness making her more brutally honest than she would have been otherwise.
‘Jennifer, this isn’t fair on the girls. You’re trying to make them choose between you and their father. That’s not good for them and you know it. They’re kids, they need love and support, not to be pawns in your game of chess. If you and Ryan would try mediation, perhaps, talk to someone about how to support the children—’
‘That’s none of your business,’ hissed Jennifer.
‘Of course it’s my business,’ said Vonnie in astonishment. ‘They’re Ryan’s children, and when they’re with us, I have a responsibility towards them. We, as the adults, have to help them through this. They didn’t ask for your and Ryan’s marriage to break up any more than they asked for me and Ryan to fall in love. We all owe it to them to manage this as best we can. I am a little anxious about Ruby, to be honest—’
‘I don’t want you having anything to do with my daughters! They’re none of your business. You think they like you but they don’t. Ruby hates you, hates you.’
Real weariness mixed with anger hit Vonnie. Ruby wasn’t coping and Vonnie could see it. But her own mother was oblivious to anything but her own feelings, and even though Vonnie empathised, Jennifer had to be a mother first, didn’t she?
‘I’m sorry,’ Vonnie said, ‘but you should go.’
There was no point continuing this. Jennifer was too upset, and soon, something really dreadful would be said, something from which there was no coming back.
She rose to her feet. She was taller than Jennifer and she knew she could look imposing if she chose. Drawing herself up, she said: ‘If you wanted to see me, you only had to say so. This pretending to be a client so you could hijack me here is not worthy of either of us. When you’ – with an effort she bit back the words grow up enough – ‘are ready to have a real conversation about your daughters and how to manage their future now that you and Ryan are no lon
ger together, come and see us by all means. But don’t try to bully me or play games, Jennifer.’
Jennifer glared at her and finally Vonnie’s patience ran out. This was the woman who’d made her and Ryan’s lives hell for a long time. The anger kicked in.
‘It’s time you grew up and accepted that what you want isn’t paramount when you have children. As soon as they’re born, it all changes: they come first. I’m sure you know that. I’m worried about what all of this is doing to Ruby and Shelby. Can you think about that? I have to close up now, so if you wouldn’t mind leaving, please.’
I’ve said too much, Vonnie thought suddenly. I should have held my tongue.
‘Think you’re in charge, don’t you?’ hissed Jennifer. ‘Bossing me around, calling all the shots. You’re not. I’m the mother of Ryan’s daughters, not you. I’m his first love, I’m the one he married.’
The bile and pain kept rushing out of Jennifer’s mouth and she couldn’t stop it. She didn’t care what she said as long as she could wipe the cool look off Vonnie’s face. How dare Vonnie accuse her of not being a good mother, how dare she?
‘Don’t forget, he walked out on our family,’ Jennifer went on as Vonnie stared at her stoically. ‘Me and the girls he says he loves. And our relationship hadn’t got any troublesome baggage either, like someone else’s kid and a dead husband to contend with. He might say it doesn’t matter, but I bet it does.’
Vonnie’s sharp intake of breath told Jennifer she’d gone too far.
‘Get out,’ said Vonnie, holding her body so tightly she thought she might break. ‘Get out of my store now.’
‘I’m going,’ said Jennifer, draping her coat around her like a cloak. ‘But you might do well to remember that men who walk out on one woman will walk out on another. It becomes a habit, apparently. They run when it all gets too tough.’
She fled then, the damage done, fumbling with the door because she was so wired with anger and the adrenalin coursing through her system.
Outside on the street, Jennifer started to run. She hadn’t run for a long time, but she was desperate to get away, to put some distance between her and what had just happened. Tears rolled down her face and she didn’t care who saw her: a tear-stained woman with her coat flying as she ran down the footpath on a cold winter’s night.