Between You and Me

by Margaret Scott

  Hardly.

  I shook my head. This was excruciating. It was none of his business but I was hardly in any position to tell him that after what he’d done for me last night.

  “She’s his boss, it’s complicated.”

  “It always is, Holly. That doesn’t explain why a seemingly intelligent girl like yourself would put up with being someone else’s bit on the side.”

  Oh, for the love of God, stop with the intelligent girl stuff. And anyhow, you don’t know the half of it.

  “It’s not like that!” I said.

  “Right. I’ll take your word for it. So when do you want to go?”

  Was that it? Was the lecture over?

  “Tomorrow evening?” I proceeded cautiously, not wanting to unleash a further torrent of abuse. “Dawn has offered to mind the kids.”

  I braced myself for his reaction, but he just nodded. “Right. I’ll talk to Fenton – see if there are any surgeries we can push back till Monday. I’m sure Dawn doesn’t want them all weekend.”

  “Right. Eh, thanks. I appreciate it. Really.”

  He didn’t answer. Just as I turned to leave the kitchen I remembered and, deciding it couldn’t possibly irritate him any more than he was irritated already, I asked, “Would it be okay if I took the new car?”

  “I think you should. I’m not coming to collect you this time.”

  I rolled my eyes behind his back, but there was a spring in my step as I left the room.

  A whole weekend with Oliver . . .

  No grumpy Mark, no children, no housework, no cooking.

  He could say what he liked, I couldn’t wait.

  As soon as I got the kids to bed that night I started the big preparation. My packing was mostly done, thanks to Dawn. After leaving the Community Hall that morning, she had insisted that we go shopping to the local town (where I’d purchased all the books). In the two hours we had before collecting Jamie, I’d purchased new underwear, a slinky nightie and a new black dress for dinner.

  “You can’t go wrong with a black dress,” she assured me, “and don’t go wasting your precious money on shoes. I have lovely shoes that should fit you and a bag that would be fantastic with them at home.”

  For a second I thought of my beautiful black Louboutins that I’d sent on to New York the morning I’d packed up my Dublin apartment.

  That reminded me.

  “Gosh, I’m here a month this Saturday!”

  “Really? Well, we’ll have to postpone celebrating your anniversary until Monday. I doubt you’ll be wasting too much time thinking about us this weekend!”

  Honestly, you’d swear I was going on my honeymoon, the giggles and innuendo that Dawn was spouting. But the excitement only added to the anticipation and it wasn’t long before I was just as giddy as she was.

  It was almost eleven before I finished exfoliating, moisturising and defuzzing myself, not to mention applying a liberal layer of fake tan. Then I painted my finger and toenails, getting lost in the absolute luxury of it all. However, when I went to pluck my eyebrows, I remembered I’d left the tweezers downstairs in the kitchen where I’d used them to take a splinter out of Jamie’s finger. Yes, that was about all my tweezers got used for these days . . .

  I tiptoed down the attic stairs and past the bedrooms. After all, I had no desire to meet anyone, in my dressing gown and slathered in fake tan. But as I crept past Jamie’s room I heard some noises within.

  I pushed open the door gently only to see Jamie jump from the floor into bed and pull the covers over him.

  “Jamie? What are you up to?”

  There was no answer so I walked over to his bed and gently tried to pull back the quilt. But he had a firm grip on it and all I could see was the top of his head.

  “Jamie, what’s going on?”

  Again, there was no answer.

  “Jamie, I don’t want to go and get your dad, but if this is something I can’t sort out then I’ll have to.”

  He released his hold a little and now I could see his eyes, guiltily looking up at me.

  “What’s up, buddy?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m going to sleep.”

  “Well, you should have been asleep ages ago. Now I’m going to give you one last chance to tell me what you were up to . . .”

  He let go the quilt and I pulled it slowly back, gasping at what it revealed.

  He was fully dressed in his school uniform. Right down to the neat knot on his school tie. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realised why he was always dressed for school when I went to wake him.

  Why he was dressed for football last Saturday.

  Why he was dressed for football every Saturday.

  “Jamie, what’s going on? You can tell Holly.”

  “Nothing!” he almost shouted. “I’m fine. I told you, I want to go to sleep now!”

  “Well, do you want to tell me why you’re dressed for school?”

  He shrugged.

  “Do you do this every night?”

  He looked at me and seemed to decide that there was no point in lying, and nodded.

  “Why, honey?”

  “In case we’re in a hurry, or in case you don’t get up.”

  “When have I never got up, buddy?”

  “Never.”

  “Have I ever even been a teeny bit late getting up?”

  He shook his head.

  “And, while I know sometimes it’s a bit mad down there in the morning, we’ve never, ever been late to school, have we?”

  He shook his head.

  “So maybe we’ll just put back on your pj’s, and I promise not to make you late in the morning.”

  He nodded and I helped him back into his pyjamas.

  Tucking him back into bed, I stroked his hair.

  “You okay now, sweetie?”

  He nodded.

  “And if you were worried about anything, you’d tell me, right?”

  He nodded again and, with a tiny smile, said, “I won’t worry any more, Holly, I promise.”

  I kissed him, left the room and continued downstairs in search of my tweezers.

  So distracted was I by Jamie’s disturbing revelation that I walked straight into Mark coming out of the kitchen.

  “Whoa!” he cried as I crashed straight into his chest.

  “Oh shit! I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking!” I looked in horror at the white T-shirt that was stretched across his broad chest and hoped there wouldn’t be a Turin Shroud-like image of my fake-tanned face on it in the morning.

  “I could see that.”

  I went to walk around him, and then stopped. “Look, Mark, could I speak to you for a second?”

  I could see his shoulders visibly stiffen but he turned and followed me into the kitchen where he stood, arms folded.

  “If this is about your boyfriend –”

  “It’s not. It’s about Jamie.” I told him about what I’d just witnessed.

  For a second he didn’t speak, but his lips were set in a tight line and a muscle in his jaw flinched.

  “Right. Well, thanks for telling me. I’ll have a chat with him.”

  “Oh no, please don’t! Well, not directly. I told him I wouldn’t say anything. And I wouldn’t have, but it’s sort of something I thought you should know.”

  He nodded. “I’ll deal with it.”

  “It was just so weird –”

  “I said I’d deal with it!” he said sharply.

  Something about his demeanour bothered me.

  “You know, Mark, you don’t look too surprised. Did you know he was doing this?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Okay. Right, well, you know now,” I said. I spotted my tweezers on the counter, scooped them up and turned to leave the room.

  “Look, Holly. He used to do this before. I thought he’d stopped but, to be honest, I haven’t checked in a long time. With Amber and stuff, I wasn’t really that worried about him.”

  “Well, have you any idea why he does
it? This is not normal behaviour.”

  It was the type of behaviour that would send the babyline ladies into paroxysms of shrieking and analysis.

  He seemed to think for a minute before answering. “I’m not really sure, he doesn’t talk much, as you know. But, well, I think it’s because Emma wasn’t always as organised as you. It wasn’t – well, it wasn’t really her fault but, you know, sometimes she just wasn’t able for it all. He worries a lot, that’s all. I’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.”

  For a second I thought of Mrs Murphy and her intimation that all wasn’t quite right with Emma. And of the time that Jamie had wondered who would bring him to training “when” I was sick.

  “So, you’ll get to the bottom of it then? Without having a go at him, or telling him I told you?”

  “I promise. I’ll suss him out while you’re away. Can we leave it at that?”

  I nodded.

  This house just got stranger and stranger.

  Roll on my dirty weekend with Oliver . . .

  Chapter 40

  “Oh dear God, no!”

  This could not be happening. Of all the days, in all the year, how could Amber have chosen this day to wake up covered in spots?

  But sure enough, the minute I entered her bedroom I could see them. Huge red spots all over her forehead, chest and arms, standing in stark relief against her pale skin. Her little eyes were in the back of her head and she started to cry as soon as she saw me.

  “Hollleee, I sore!”

  “Oh baby!” I ran to pick her up, guilty that my first reaction had been to scream in horror. “Holly will make you all better!”

  Feckity Feckity Feck.

  I took her up to my bed and sat her down beside me as I cranked up the laptop.I typed.

  Child with red spots

  It spat back at me.

  Chickenpox

  My heart sank.

  This was not good.

  Within minutes I had all the information I needed and had posted off a babyline request for any advice the girls could give me.

  But they were never going to tell me what I needed to hear.

  They were never going to say that those angry red spots would be gone by this evening. With a sinking heart, I resigned myself to the inevitable.

  The weekend was off.

  At eight thirty I rang Dawn.

  “She has what?”

  “Chickenpox.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m positive.”

  “Oh, Holly. What are you going to do?”

  “Stay at home. What else can I do? You can’t mind them now, that’s for sure.”

  “But maybe –”

  “No,Dawn. You have Daniel to worry about, and I know that she’s probably not that contagious anymore, now that the spots are out, but still I’m not risking it. Anyway, she’s like an anti-Christ. I couldn’t do that to you.”

  “Oh Holly love, I’m so sorry. Is there anything at all I can do?”

  “Well, would you walk Jamie to school and maybe pick him up for me? I wouldn’t ask but I don’t want to take her out of the house.”

  “Of course. And I’ll go to the chemist for you and get whatever you need.”

  “Great. A bag of Valium would be great!”

  I put down the phone with a sigh, looking at my watch. I needed to cancel my hair appointment but the hairdresser’s wouldn’t be open yet. There was nothing for it but to get Jamie ready for school, a harder task with a needy Amber clinging to my hip.

  The poor little child wasn’t well at all and was feeling very itchy. As soon as Dawn had picked Jamieup, I ran a hot bath, and cutting the leg off one of my good pairs of tights, I filled the foot with oatmeal, tied it off, and put it in the bath. When the water had cooled to lukewarm I put Amber in and, lifting the tights-foot full of soaked oatmeal, allowed the milky liquid to dribble over her skin. It helped enormously with the itching and, after I had patted her dry, she actually managed to have a nap.

  I’d asked Dawn to get me antihistamine in the chemist and, apart from keeping her temperature down, there was nothing left for me to do.

  Well, nothing left for me to do, except try and figure out what in God’s name I was going to tell Oliver.

  I broke into a cold sweat every time I went to pick up the phone. He was going to go crazy. I had no idea how I was going to explain this one. The best I could come up with was that I had been stricken down with a horrible vomiting and diarrhoea bug. To be fair, his potential reaction terrified me so much,that was fast becoming a reality anyway.

  At ten o’clock I dialled his number, but his phone was turned off. I tried twice more before sending him a text.

  Pls ring me. H.

  All through lunchtime I waited for the phone to ring. Eventually at almost two o’clock I got a text back.

  In meeting all day, will ring asap. So excited.O

  Oh God, this was a disaster. I quickly dialled his number but it was too late, the phone was off again already. God only knows what time he would get to turn it back on again. There was nothing for it but to wait.

  Good job I’d all the washing and cooking done for the weekend, I thought glumly, because all poor Amber wanted was for me to sit down on the couch with her and watch Barney. And that’s exactly what we had done for the whole day.

  Dawn dropped Jamie home and I gave him his snack and put him in front of a different DVD in the new playroom.

  Television was invented for days like this, I decided.

  At five o’clock I heard Mark burst through the front door.

  “Holly? Are you still here? Holly?”

  “I’m in here!” I called from the TV room.

  “Oh, good. I mean, I just wanted to say have a good time,” he said, and for a second I thought I saw him blushing. Then he looked at me, still in my tracksuit, hair scraped back into a greasy ponytail. “Eh, why are you not ready?”

  I gestured to the sick child asleep in my arms.

  “Chickenpox,” I said.

  “What? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “There was no need, it’s all under control.”

  “Oh bugger. Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m sure.”

  “Did you take her to the doctor?”

  “I really don’t think there’s any need. I’ve bathed her, she’s on antihistamines and her temperature is controlled so I think I’m just going to monitor it for a while.”

  “Oh, right, well, you know the score. But hang on – you’re not going to go now?”

  “No, I’m not. But it’s fine. Honestly. There’ll be other weekends. I couldn’t leave her with Dawn like this.”

  “But what about what’s-his-name?”

  “Oliver. His name is Oliver. And he doesn’t know yet. He’s in a meeting. I’m waiting for him to ring me back.”

  He leaned over me and pushed a stray curl out of Amber’s eyes.

  Now this tender Mark was one I could get used to.

  “The poor little chicken,” he murmured. “I’ll be back in a second. Can I get you anything?”

  “A cuppa would be nice,” I smiled.

  “Sure, back in a tick.”

  In ten minutes he was back, minus the cup of tea. He did, however, have a big fluffy blanket in his arms and he gestured to me to lay Amber down beside me on the couch. Then he tucked her in.

  “Right,” he said quietly. “Go up, get ready and get on your way.”

  “What? Mark, it’s fine. Honestly.”

  “It’s not fine, you go get ready.”

  “But I can’t go and leave you like this!”

  “My mum is going to be here in thirty minutes. I can stay till she gets here. The only thing I need you to do is make up the bed in the spare room – I just don’t know where all the stuff is.”

  I looked at him in shock.

  “You rang your mother?”

  “Yes, that’s what grannies are for!”

  “Oh, Mark, I don’t know what to sa
y.” I was genuinely speechless with surprise.

  “Well, don’t get too soppy on me now – you know she’ll have the whole house changed by the time you come back.” He was trying to be gruff, but I knew he was pleased with my delight.

  “Are you sure this is okay?”

  “Absolutely, but Holly – and don’t take this the wrong way – you smell of Calpol and God knows what. I think you should probably go and get changed, and maybe do something with your hair.”

  At that Amber stirred and opened one eye. I went to go to her but Mark got there first. He scooped her up and sat back down on the couch with her on his knee.

  She looked up and smiled at him. “Dadda,” she whispered before falling back asleep.

  I smiled and for one bizarre moment it occurred to me that I’d far rather cuddle down on the couch with the two of them than get tarted up and drive miles to some fancy hotel.

  Good God, Holly Green, how the mighty have fallen . . .

  I wrenched myself away from the scene and ran up the stairs before I had any more ridiculous notions. I was definitely losing my marbles. How could the prospect of a weekend in a tracksuit with a sick child even marginally appeal to me? I put the thought out of my head before it formulated the answer I was afraid of.

  In thirty minutes I was ready to go. Okay, so my hair was not professionally blow-dried, but I looked a whole lot better than I had done.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked anxiously again when I went back downstairs to where Mark and Amber were still cuddled on the couch. “Do you want me to wait until Jamie is in bed?”

  “Holly. Go. Mum will be here in a minute. Actually,” he paused, listening, “there she is now – let her in on your way out.”

  I opened the door to a kindly-faced woman, much younger than I’d expected.

  “You must be Mrs Fielding,” I said, suddenly embarrassed that this nice woman was giving up her time to allow me to go on a dirty weekend with someone else’s boyfriend.

  “And you must be Holly,” she smiled. “I have heard so much about you from the children. And from Mark too, of course.”

  “Oh, nothing too awful, I hope.”The mind boggled at what he might have told her about me.“Mrs Fielding, I’m so sorry to put you out like this. Really, I was happy to stay . . .”