*
I had to confess to Mum pretty much straightaway. It was hard to continue the pretence of wealth when the pantry was bare – except for con-flakes.
Mum took it like she’s always taken everything – stoically.
‘But Scarlet, if you are so unhappy, come back with me, to England. I am sure we can find some space on the ship for the three of you. I can apply for extra credit on my card; you can pay it back when you find a job. After all, you have a degree.’
Another lie about to be exposed. I choked back tears.
‘Darling, what is it?’
‘Mum, that was a lie too. Carson is a teacher who barely earns enough to feed us, his family are horrible and no help at all. I flunked out of college, because I was rubbish at fashion design, and the only decent job I’ve been offered in all the years I’ve been here was the window display I’ve been doing. But now I find out I was offered the assignment because the guy wanted a threesome with me, him and a transsexual club singer.’
To my embarrassment, I began to bawl.
Mum held me tight. ‘Oh my poor darling. Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I just couldn’t face telling you the truth; that I was living far away from you and it wasn’t even worth it.’
Mum pulled my head into her lap. ‘Nothing ever works out the way you think it does, Scarlet. But the question is, are you happy with Carson as he is? Because if you’re not, then you need to do something about it. Lying to me and your dad is one thing, lying to yourself is quite another.’
‘I love my kids, Mum. And I think I still love Carson. I’m not completely sure that I trust him, but I love him. Things might be okay if all the rest wasn’t so difficult. It’s his awful family that really makes things unbearable. They’re the real reason I started lying to you in the first place. Like you said, maybe by lying to you, I was lying to myself, telling myself it was okay to put up with people like that.’
‘Are they really so bad?’ Mum asked, stroking my head.
‘You saw Cecily 2 with your own eyes,’ I cried. ‘How is she not so bad? The mother is about ten times worse. She calls me Scarface.’
I felt Mum stiffen. Mental note: do not let Cecily and Mum meet. Ever.
‘If you don’t have to see them too often, maybe you can forget they exist – at least for long enough to ease the tension.’
What exactly was she saying? I cranked my neck to look at her face, but when I did, I saw she wasn’t looking at me, but off out the window, at the mess of buildings on view in the distance.
And there was a solitary tear running down her left cheek.
‘Mum,’ I said gently. ‘Do you know?’
I promised myself that if she said ‘Know what?’ I would forget the whole thing about Dad and that woman and make a joke about me going senile.
But she didn’t say that.
Instead, she just said, ‘Yes.’
*
‘Right,’ I called to the assistant in the midtown Chocolato, ‘switch them on.’
Instantly, a thousand little twinkling lights lit up the navy backdrop of the window. Three huge chunky arks, cleverly created by Uncle Rabbit, hid large blocks of ice in insulating blocks, ensuring that the hundreds of chocolate animals weaving their way around the window on various levels into the ark remained chilled. It had taken me hours to arrange those animals, particularly as they had to sit on insulating bags that had to be placed in the exactly the right positions from the start. If I made a mistake, or wanted to make a change, I had to start the whole placement again.
‘Oh Scarlet, you are a genius,’ Mum exclaimed, hands thrown up in wonderment.
Since our conversation the night before, Mum and I seemed to have a renewed spring in our respective steps. Having cleared the air of secrets and lies, I was thrilled to have her in New York, and pleased to be able to share my moment of triumph with her.
Immediately, a crowd gathered outside the shop.
‘This is as good as that window at LollyBliss,’ a young woman in an elegant grey suit told her friend.
‘My daughter did that one too,’ Mum told her proudly.
‘Mum,’ I said, embarrassed, but the two women nodded their congratulations before moving on.
Robert marched around the corner. On seeing a tiny, elderly woman with the same frizzy hair as me (only white) Robert skin went paler than his eyes.
‘What do you think?’ I asked him as he approached. Before he could reply, I turned to Mum. ‘This is the owner, Mum. He’s here to pay me, aren’t you Robert?’
If Mum thought my business acumen less than finely honed, she didn’t say. Holding out a hand, she waited for Robert to shake it.
‘Pleased to meet you – you should be paying her double for this. Look at the crowds!’
Clearly, people had never seen so many chocolate animals heading into an ark before.
‘Yes, well, Scarlet is certainly talented. Perhaps we will never know how much.’
What was he implying? I looked at him over the top of Mum’s curly grey head. He smiled – a nasty curl of thin lips.
‘You know . . .’ He took Mum’s arm and began leading her towards the nearby coffee shop, ‘. . . Scarlet and I have become quite close.’
I guess it was to be expected. I could outsmart Robert, but he wasn’t a successful banker and entrepreneur for nothing, was he? If I demanded money, he’d tell Mum we were having an affair.
It was nonsense, of course, but given she knew of all my other lies, there was no way Mum wouldn’t believe I was shagging Robert Simpson.
Not if he told her I was.
Moving quickly, I pulled Mum from Robert, and told him we would get together to discount the issues later. ‘Mum and I have a pressing engagement?’
‘We do?’ Mum was baffled by my behavior.
‘I’m sure you do,’ the nasty smile was still firmly in place.
So that was it.
No money.
But at least Mum didn’t think I was a slut on top of everything else.
At least not yet.
‘See you later Scarlet,’ Robert’s sing song voice called after us.
‘He seemed nice,’ Mum said.
Hmmm.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Christmas Eve, December 24
‘This year, pick a present that means something to you both;
a reminder from the past.
And make it sexy!’
Jocelyn Priestly
GRINNING TO MYSELF, I considered the calendar’s missive as I sat in the overheated mobile home of my in-laws. Trust me Jocelyn, Cecily will definitely feel the love when she opens my gift!
It was tradition to open a single present before the ‘big day’, as the Teesons called Christmas.
Howie lumbered over to the stack by the tree near the fridge, and chose the biggest one. It didn’t have his name on it.
‘Howie,’ Cecily 2 admonished loudly. ‘That’s for Jessie.’
‘No it isn’t.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Isn’t.’
‘Is.’
‘Isn’t.’
‘How come she gets the biggest one?’
‘Because Jessie and J come from a poor family,’ Cecily 2 said, burping loudly to underpin her point. ‘Now behave.’
‘No,’ said Howie.
‘Yes,’ said Cecily 2.
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
‘Yes.’
‘No.’
Cecily patted her favorite grandson’s head fondly, promising she would get him the very same gift as J’s when ‘Spike with the truck’ came around.
Then she told Howie to find her a gift to open. Seeing me watching her, she pointed out the wrapped circu-boosta. ‘Let’s see what Aunty Scarface has for me this year.’
Everyone tittered as they always did when she called me Scarface. It was a term of endearment, Carson whispered to me, silently pleading for me not to react. I ignored him, like I had been
doing since he arrived home at 3 a.m. the night before last. I had been livid, because Mum needed to be taken to the docks for her trip home, and I wanted to be able to relax and have a meal out with her alone (her treat, of course) before having to literally ship her off.
‘It’s from all of us, granny,’ J reminded her.
‘Of course,’ Cecily said to him, patting Howie’s head again.
J passed over the gift and with Rufus leaning in over her shoulder, jollying her along with ‘oohs’ and ‘what could it bes?’, Cecily revealed the re-gifted circulation booster.
For a good five minutes she was speechless.
‘That looks familiar,’ yelled Cecily 2.
‘That’s a shit present,’ Howie said.
‘Is not,’ said J.
‘It is J,’ I said, shutting both boys up.
‘Fuck me, I recognize it now!’ Cecily 2 said, taking a step back to avoid being trampled but a raging mother.
We all waited, but Cecily simply turned to me and Carson and smiled. ‘This is the nicest gift I’ve ever been given.’
I could see from her eyes that she knew.
She knew what I’d done.
And somehow, she was going to pay me back.
*
In the car on the way back home, Carson informed me he needed to collect exam results from work first thing tomorrow.
He had to be joking. ‘It will be Christmas Day and school is closed.’
How stupid did he think I was? If I wasn’t convinced he was having an affair before, I was definitely convinced now.
‘I won’t be long. The kids will want to know the results.’
Immensely stupid, clearly.
And that’s when I decided to take the initiative. ‘Okay, so go there now. No sense in dropping us home first, is there?’
If he appeared rattled by my suggestion, he didn’t show it. ‘Sure, but it might take a few minutes for Igo the groundskeeper to let me in. As you said, it is Christmas Eve.’
Then the kids began moaning – just like Carson knew they would.
‘No, Dad, come on. Mum, tell him. It’s too cold. I wanna go home.’
‘Me too,’ said Jessie.
‘Want to. You are starting to sound like Cecily 2.’
‘Please Mum,’ Jessie put a cold hand on my shoulder. ‘We need to chill after spending all that time with Howie.’
‘He only tried to stab you with a fork twice this year,’ J told her. ‘It wasn’t so bad.’
Jessie punched him and hair pulling and fisticuffs ensued.
There was nothing for it I had to let Carson take the kids home before they killed each other.
As he expertly parked the car, I mulled things over. There was a way to find out. Yes it was irresponsible, because it cost money we didn’t have, but one way or another, I needed to know.
And it was bloody well cheaper than a private investigator.
Tomorrow, I would hail a cab and follow Carson to wherever he was slinking off to.
If I had to, I’d take a photo with my phone – which would be almost useless because there was no zoom or flash – and confront him once and for all.
If he turned out to be a cheater, I’d get the kids British passports and take them back to Bath to stay with Mum.
Sod him, and the rest of the Teesons.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Christmas Day, December 25.
‘Today is the day to make peace with the past and embrace the future.’
Jocelyn Priestly.
I AWOKE WITH A start, and listened for what had caused me to leave a dream that involved the real George Clooney and a waterbed. Carson! Through the paper thin walls, I heard Carson on his phone in the bathroom, mumbling quietly.
Bastard.
It was only seven in the bloody a.m.
I stared at the calendar for a moment, then grabbed the page, scrunched it up and threw it across the room. When I left my darling husband for good, I would finally tell him what I thought of that stupid excuse for a gift.
Next I heard Carson sneaking out the door. The now familiar creak as the top caught where it hadn’t been hung property had me out of bed in an instant.
So he was planning on leaving to shag his mistress.
On Christmas morning!
Who did he think he was – Austin Bloody Powers?
Checking that the children were asleep (they were teenagers, so I figured we had a few hours before they headed in the direction of the Christmas tree), I raced upstairs, knocking loudly on my neighbor’s door.
Hammertro appeared to have come off worse in a title fight with some heavyweight. Saying he was fine – the other guy ‘had lost his shit’ and was in hospital – he tiredly agreed to look after the kids and sleepwalked his way downstairs to reconvene his slumber on our sofa.
I said to let the kids open their presents if they awoke.
After all, if Carson was screwing that disgraceful legal slut from his past, it might be some hours before they released me from jail after I attempt to kill them both.
‘No guns, no drugs, no calling Cecily 2,’ I told him sternly.
‘I still love her fierce arse,’ he murmured, sadly.
Cecily 2 had decamped and headed for home seconds after arriving and spying a rat under Hammertro’s sofa. I hadn’t bothered asking how she’d been in a position to see a rat under the sofa in the first place.
‘Then tell her you love her,’ I said.
‘You think?’ Hammertro’s bravado had vanished. The impossible had happened – Cecily 2 had ensnared another man in her web of horror.
At least Hammertro could defend himself rather more effectively than Rufus.
‘You’d be doing her long-suffering husband and cousin Rufus a favor, trust me.’
Even before I expelled the words were I realized that Cecily 2 and the argumentative Howie might move in upstairs if Rufus kicked them out of their mobile home.
Time for a quick back-track. ‘On the other hand, the husband is six five and built like a truck. He’ll pound your head into the concrete. And I hear,’ I added, ‘he works in concrete.’
The implication was clear. At least I hoped it was.
That should do it.
Leaving Hammertro pondering Cecily 2’s supposed Mafioso husband, I raced down the stairwell and out into the street.
Damn. Carson was already on his way to his assignation – our battered car was turning the corner.
Looking around frantically I saw that Joel, a Mexican cleaner from the building across the road who worked at Flindes, was heading out.
‘Joel, can I pay you to drive me somewhere?’
He looked at me suspiciously. Then again, he looked at everyone suspiciously. ‘Why?’
The truth was most expeditious at that point. ‘My bastard husband is seeing another woman – that’s him in our car. I want to catch him at it.’
In immediately appreciation of my predicament (‘My own mother was a cheatin’ bitch’), Joel told me to get in his tiny Ford Fiesta, and my door wasn’t even closed before he’d roared off in hot pursuit of Carson.
*
Carson’s first port of call was, ridiculously, LollyBliss.
‘Why he going right into Manhattan?’ Joel asked. ‘Nothing is open.’
‘He’s a cheating bastard,’ I said. ‘They go where the action is.’
But why was he pulling up the clapped out Toyota outside of LollyBliss?
Lolly hadn’t said she was opening.
Joel pulled up opposite him, illegally parking near a hydrant. ‘He’s going to get us both booked.’
‘I’ll pay, don’t worry.’
I didn’t concern myself with the where I would find money for a fine.
The door opened as Carson approached. Lolly must have been expecting him.
‘She’s having an affair with him?’ Joel said, sighting the satin sheet of blonde hair. ‘Man, she is a looker.’
‘She can’t be having an affair with him, she’s
a lesbian.’
‘Oooh,’ Joel said, now even more attracted to Lolly. ‘I should hang with you more often.’
Carson and Lolly? No, couldn’t be. Not when Lolly was so keen on her vacuous salesgirl.
Unless . . . that was just a ruse?
I remembered Lolly saying ‘the only person I’ve ever loved’.
Did she mean Carson?
Perhaps my friend had planned to tell me the sordid truth, and then changed her mind? At which point she’d come up with a stupid story about being gay.
Get a grip, Scarlet. This is Lolly, remember?
No, wait, Carson was already back out on the street again, carrying a wrapped bundle.
A present! He’d bought a present from Lolly.
For who?
It couldn’t be me. I received pathetic calendars from has-been gurus such as Jocelyn Priestly.
Joel and I slouched down in our seats until Carson had driven off.
‘You still want me to follow him?’
‘Yes, please. Thanks Joel.’
Joel was extremely adept at surveillance, staying a few cars behind but managing to turn where Carson turned and keep him in sight. It helped that it was Christmas Day and the traffic was minimal.
Soon he was heading downtown, and next we were in the trendy Meatpackers district.
‘I used to live here,’ I told Joel, ‘when it was a dive.’
Carson pulled up in front of a small, recently converted hotel. Joel snuck in behind a truck that had maneuvered cautiously out of a driveway and then stopped, blocking one lane of the road.
‘Engine trouble,’ Joel noted. ‘Excellent.’
We watched as the hotel porter came out, dressed in a slick navy suit. Carson had a brief discussion with him, after which the porter nodded, took the cash that Carson offered, and held the door for him.
A tip! When we can’t pay the electric!
I was seething at the sight of my husband wasting money on some bimbo. He’d probably got me a pair of bed socks that year as a gift – or something equally unromantic.
One year he gave me chocolates a kid from school had given him.
And had told me where they had come from!
The Great Christmas Breakup Page 12