The Other Mothers' Club

by Samantha Baker

  “Not…?” Lily was temporarily aghast.

  Eve knew what she was thinking. She’d thought it too for a split second when Ian had first mentioned the family heirloom. “No!” she said. “No way. Caroline never had it.” And the unspoken implication—that Caroline hadn’t been as important, as significant, that Eve was special—made her grin all the broader.

  “Oh, my God,” Melanie gasped. “Is this man perfect or what?”

  “What? What’s going on?” Clare watched the other three look up guiltily and wondered what she’d missed. Eve, in particular, she thought, looked as though she’d been caught rifling through someone’s handbag.

  Clare’s train had been stuck in a tunnel on the Northern Line for the past twenty minutes. She was hot, she was sweaty and the bad mood that had settled over her since Will’s letter had arrived was congealing into a malignant shroud.

  She hated being late, and she was in no mood for the girly hysteria emanating from their corner of Starbucks.

  She also, for some reason she couldn’t pin down, felt excluded.

  This wasn’t how it was meant to be; this group had been her idea. Clare had been so pleased with herself, so happy when Eve and Lily had hit it off and had wanted to meet again. She’d even persuaded Eve to let Melanie in, but now the evenings were gaining a life of their own. That was what Clare had wanted. Only now that it was happening, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  “I got you a skinny latte,” said Melanie, a little nervously. As if she’d been caught stealing Clare’s seat. “I hope that’s right. If not, I can go get you something else?”

  “That’s perfect, thanks.” Clare forced a smile. Just because her life was shit right now—right now, that was a laugh—it didn’t give her the right to piss on everyone else’s party. And clearly there was a party going on here.

  Dropping her bag on the floor, she kicked it under the table, where it landed next to the Mulberry tote she knew had been handed down to Eve by her boss. M&S’s finest pleather might cut it in the staff room, but it didn’t stand scrutiny here.

  “What’s going on?”

  Lily beamed at her.

  Clare looked at Eve. Yes, she definitely looked awkward. Embarrassed, even.

  “If you don’t tell her,” said Lily, giving Eve a meaningful stare, “I’m going to.”

  Eve smiled. Now that she looked at her, Clare realized there was something different. Had she cut her hair? Dyed it? Been for some sort of miracle facial?

  “Ian proposed.”

  “You what?” Clare caught herself. “I mean, wow, congratulations. When did that happen?”

  “Recently.” Eve had obviously read Clare’s mind, or at least part of it, and she leaned forward, putting her hand on her friend’s. “I called you from Cornwall, several times. Your answering machine’s broken. There’s something up with your cell too. Where’ve you been? I’ve been desperate to talk to you.”

  Clare didn’t have the heart to tell Eve’s lit-up face that her answering machine wasn’t broken, it was turned off. It had been turned off since Will’s letter had arrived. Now she was terrified he’d call, or even worse, simply turn up on the doorstep. As for her cell phone, that was just old. Old and crap. The kind of phone that made teenagers smirk when she took it out on the bus.

  “So, it was obviously a good holiday,” Clare said tightly, a prickling in her nose threatening emotion at being the last to hear her old friend’s news.

  “The best.” Eve was glowing. It wasn’t a dye job, or a trip to the hygienist; she really was radiating happiness. Clare felt a pang of jealousy. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt like that. Not since…well, not for a long time. Trying to relax and shake off her black mood, she listened as Eve told them all how it had happened. Eve was her best friend; why couldn’t she just be happy for her?

  “So, when’s the big day?” she asked. “Or haven’t you thought about that yet?”

  “Oh, God, not for ages. Next year. Year after. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t bother at all, but it’s important to Ian. He wants the kids to understand it’s permanent. But we’re going to take things slowly, get them used to the idea first.”

  Clare noticed that Eve was carefully avoiding making eye contact. Not kids, she thought. Hannah.

  “So I’m going to move in,” Eve continued. “As soon as I can find a tenant for my flat. And we’ll take it from there.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Clare saw her sister mime sticking fingers down her throat. Eve had seen her too. So had Melanie, who looked appalled.

  “It’s all right,” Eve said, laughing. “I’m making myself want to vomit too! This is not like me at all, is it, Clare?”

  “Never met a woman less interested in marriage or babies….” Clare shrugged.

  That was true. When they’d been at university, Clare would have sworn Eve would do anything—anything—to avoid what she’d once been heard to call, with an entirely straight face, the subjugation of marriage. There had been boyfriends, but none had been around for long. And that had always been up to Eve. Low jerk threshold, she’d said. She’d preferred hanging out with the girls. She’d had better things to do than chase after jocks, stoners and pretty boys. Clare had always assumed this would change when Eve met The One. Although why she, of all people, should believe that…

  Clare had met The One, and look where that had gotten her.

  “That was me, too,” Melanie ventured. She’d been sitting quietly, sipping chai latte (not that she’d have admitted it to Clare) and taking in the conversation, watching Eve grow more radiant with each telling, and feeling pangs of envy tinge her pleasure for her new friend.

  That was what love did to you, she guessed, wondering if this was how she’d looked when Simeon had proposed; if her girlfriends had sat in the Gramercy Tavern and watched her radiate love, goodwill and happy-ever-after, like some sort of Jimmy Choo–shod fairy-tale princess.

  Not all men were like Simeon, she reminded herself. The way Eve told it, Ian certainly sounded like a decent guy, possibly even the real thing, assuming there was such a thing.

  When the others turned to look at her, Melanie wondered why she’d spoken up.

  “I just mean, I was Ms. No-marriage, No-kids, No-way,” she ventured, meeting their gaze. “Always had been. Ever since high school. My parents were devastated. Oh, they said they were proud when I got my place at Brown, graduated cum laude and was fast-tracked at Singer, Bartlett & Nash, the corporate law firm I joined, but my mom would be the first to tell you that she’d rather I’d just married a nice guy from Boston—a nice Chinese/American guy, obviously—kept house and had kids…. And then I met Simeon, and boom. Six months later I’m on a plane here. Honestly, in my high school yearbook, I was girl most likely to succeed—aka girl least likely to chuck it all in and follow some guy halfway around the world. My friends nearly died of shock when I told them I’d given up my job and the lease on my rent-controlled apartment to marry some Brit. They thought I was crazy. I guess they still do….”

  And they wouldn’t be wrong, Melanie thought. In fact, they’d be so far from wrong they’d be right. How had she made such a mess of her life?

  The mere thought of the tight-knit group who’d seen Melanie through her Manhattan years gave her an almost physical pang. How were they? Where were they? Far more than her ex, and definitely more than her family, she missed her New York girlfriends so much that it hurt.

  “And I did all that, only to get publicly dumped by one of the world’s richest men,” Melanie finished lamely.

  “It’s not your fault the guy’s an arse,” Lily said gamely. “I mean look at you—gorgeous, brainy and a successful businesswoman. Simeon’s loss is Vince’s gain. How is Vince, anyway?”

  “Oh, he’s fine.” Melanie didn’t feel like talking about Vince either. She was beginning to feel a fraud; she was here as a stepmother but still had to meet the stepchild in question—and she was in no hurry to do so. In fact, the thought made
her stomach lurch.

  “How’s Louisa?” she asked Clare, hoping the others would let her get away with the feeble attempt to deflect attention.

  “As fine as can be expected when everyone’s been on holiday except her. Everyone’s got an iPod except her. Everyone’s allowed to stay home alone except her….” Clare shrugged. “You get the picture.”

  The truth was they’d had another row before Clare had left the flat. The Northern Line had not been entirely to blame for Clare’s tardiness. It had merely compounded things; when Will’s letter had forced a panicked rethink, Clare had reneged on her promise to let Lou stay home alone—something she hated to do where Louisa was concerned and had promised herself she never would.

  Clare felt another rush of fury. Thanks a lot, Will, she thought. As if you haven’t fucked up my life enough already.

  “Her father’s been in touch.” The words took Clare as much by surprise as the others; she hadn’t been planning to say them. Not being a stepmother-type problem, this wasn’t one for the group.

  “You’re kidding?” Eve leaned forward, her face full of shock. She clasped Clare’s hand. “Will? Your Will?”

  “Not my Will,” Clare said, freeing her fingers. “Very definitely not my Will.”

  “Oh, my God. Are you OK? What did he say?”

  Sensing that this was not a conversation for mere acquaintances, Melanie headed for the ladies’ room and another round of coffees, leaving Clare to fill Eve and her sister in on the letter.

  “How did he find you?” Lily asked.

  “I’ve been wondering about that,” Clare said, her chin in her hand. “You don’t think Mom…?”

  “Mom? No! No way.” Lily was emphatic. “So far as I know, Mom hasn’t so much as bumped into Will’s mother in the street for over a decade. And, if she did, she’d hardly just hand over your address. Apart from anything else, she knows you’d murder her.”

  “How, then?”

  “I hate to say it,” said Eve, “but it’s not that hard. You haven’t changed your name, and you live in roughly the same area, give or take a few postcodes. Even without Facebook, Friends Reunited or any of that stuff, there are probably people from home who know you’re still in the vicinity, know you became a teacher. And you’re on the electoral register, aren’t you? You vote. You pay council tax. I bet you’re not even unlisted.”

  Clare scowled. Why would she be unlisted?

  “Well then, the most basic search would probably throw up half a dozen Clare Adamses in their early thirties with your postcode.”

  “Is it that easy?” Clare knew she sounded appalled. It had simply never occurred to her that anyone would want to find her.

  “Pretty much,” Eve said. “Any vaguely competent journalist could find you in under an hour with the most basic of information. If Will was really determined to make contact and hired a private detective—”

  She held up her hand at Clare’s protest. “Calm down, hon. I’m not saying he did. I’m just saying if. It’s not hard to find someone if you know how to look. You don’t even really need to know where.”

  It was Lily’s turn for a question: “What did you do with the letter?” she asked.

  “Tore it up. What d’you think I did with it? Left it on the side for Louisa to read? Put it in a red velvet box with all his other treasured love notes?”

  Even Melanie, who’d just deposited four full mugs on the table, winced.

  Lily just stared.

  “Sorry,” said Clare. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to have a go.” She was staring down at a steaming latte, hoping the tears that brimmed in her eyes wouldn’t spill over. “It’s just…how dare he?”

  “God, what a nightmare,” said Lily. “What right does he have to come barging back into your life like this?”

  It wasn’t a question. Clare shrugged, her eyes fixed firmly on her coffee, wishing she hadn’t gotten into this. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t have the faintest clue where to go from here, other than outside for a cigarette she didn’t even smoke.

  “What are you going to do?” Eve asked gently. “Have you told your mom?”

  “No, and I don’t know,” Clare said sadly. “All I know is he gets to see Lou over my dead body.”

  Lily and Eve exchanged glances, silently negotiating whose turn it was to get shot. Somehow Eve lost. “Clare…,” she paused, hoping for divine intervention. None came. “I know you don’t want to hear this.”

  Clare glared at her. “Don’t say it, then.”

  Eve plowed on. “My love, I’m sorry, but it’s not that straightforward. And you’d know that too if you were thinking straight. I mean, private detectives or not, Will’s obviously determined. He’s made the effort to find you and Lou. I could be wrong, but I don’t think he’s going to go away just because you don’t respond to one letter. He’s going to get in touch again. And next time, or the time after, it may not be by letter.

  “At some point he’s going to phone.”

  Clare looked up from where her finger traced circles in the cooling froth. “I know.”

  She wasn’t stupid. Why else had she turned off her answering machine? Not that the others knew that. “And I’ll ignore him,” she said firmly. “Again and again. Until he goes back under whatever rock he crawled out from…”

  There was a long, hideous silence. The kind “cut with a knife” was invented for. It was enough to make Lily wish Melanie hadn’t bought that last round of coffees. Still, someone had to say something. And it looked like it was her.

  “Oh,” Lily said, her faux brightness fooling no one. “On an entirely different subject, there was one thing I wanted to mention.”

  “Don’t tell me Liam’s done it again!” Eve said.

  “No—well, yes, of course he has. He’s Liam, isn’t he? But that’s not it. I wanted to ask if I can bring a new member to the next meeting.”

  Eve didn’t look opposed to the idea. So Lily glanced at Clare to see how she’d reacted, but her sister was still engrossed in her froth peaks.

  “I mean, Melanie came,” Lily said. “And I don’t know about you two, but I think that’s been a good thing. It’s like we’re more of a group now.” She smiled shyly at Melanie, who smiled gratefully back.

  “And personally,” said Lily, “I’ve found it helpful. I mean, I know Liam has his faults, but he has good points too. And no”—she stuck her elbow in her sister’s ribs to get her attention—“they don’t all involve sex.”

  Clare managed a weak grin.

  “Anyway,” Lily continued, “I was talking to one of his neighbors, Mandy. I’ve seen her around, in the Indian newsstand on the corner, buying milk and such like, and we always chat. Then the other day she invited me in for a coffee. Anyway, she’s like, you know, a proper stepmother.”

  Lily grinned at Eve and Melanie. “No offense, but we’re just stepmothers in waiting. Me and you more than Eve now. But Mandy’s got a tough gig; she has three kids of her own, all boys between twelve and sixteen, and the guy she lives with has a girl and a boy, fifteen and twelve. His kids don’t live with them, but they’re there most weekends—”

  “Five kids?” Eve said.

  “Yeah, and none of them get on. Plus Mandy’s ex is a stingy bastard…excuse my French,” Lily added as she glanced apologetically at Melanie, who shrugged. She’d obviously heard worse in behind-closed-doors negotiations. “Since John—that’s her new bloke—moved in, Mandy’s ex has started refusing to pay maintenance. I mean, what a shit. They’re still his kids, and John is still paying his ex for his kids, of course. So, on top of everything, they’re really broke.”

  “Sounds grim,” Eve said.

  “Look,” Lily said. “I know Liam’s not going to win any awards for dad of the year, but he’d never do a thing like that. Frankly, after spending half an hour with Mandy, I was counting my blessings. That’s how I came to tell her about us. Although, to be honest, I was a bit embarrassed because I have such an easy ride of it compare
d with her. Anyway, Mandy seemed interested, so I said I’d ask you if she could come along.”

  Lily had prepared a speech, only that hadn’t been it. Ad-libbing was one of the things she loved about stand-up. It was all in the timing, and she was good at finding the right words on the fly. The flip side was she couldn’t stick to a worked-out speech if her life depended on it. That was probably why she’d never been able to pass a language oral exam either.

  “Any objections?” Lily looked at Eve, Clare and Melanie in turn. Each woman nodded agreement. Why not? their expressions seemed to say. In for a penny.

  Smiling her annoying kid-sister smile, which she’d perfected twenty years earlier, Lily beamed at Clare, who until that moment had been self-appointed chairperson. The boss of them, just as she’d been the boss of Lily for as long as Lily could remember.

  Slapping her hand flat on the table, Lily said, “Motion carried.”

  Twelve

  Number withheld.

  The phone was ringing. It had been ringing every half hour for most of the day. This had been going on for three days now, and Clare knew she couldn’t let it carry on. Apart from anything else, Lou was pissed off at not being allowed to answer the phone. Pissed off and downright suspicious.

  Eve had been right. Lily too.

  Clare had known that the minute Eve had opened her mouth. Before that, really. Will was back in her life after fourteen and a half years. And he wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. Maybe if she hadn’t said anything to the group it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if she hadn’t told them, it would all have gone away.

  Don’t be so stupid, she told herself.

  If she wasn’t going to answer it, the only thing to do was to put her answering machine back on. It might not be Will at all. It could be someone trying to sell her home insurance. How dumb could she get? Sitting here in fear of the phone when it was probably just some poor sod in a call center in Mombai.