by Rosie Howard
‘This isn’t about Patrick. This is about my father. And Maddy’s.’
‘Well then it is about Patrick, isn’t it? He’s Maddy’s father, as I’m sure you now know.’
‘So it suits you to currently say,’ said Ben acidly. ‘So if Patrick’s now the daddy – which is all very convenient, isn’t it? – then how do you explain cheating on him with my father twenty-five years ago.’
‘What?’ she said incredulous. ‘I’ve never cheated on Patrick. For all his sins I never would, and I don’t even know who your father is.’
‘Mike? Motorbike Man? Ring a bell … ?’
Helen looked at him uncomprehendingly, for a moment, and then her face fell. ‘Good Lord,’ she whispered, ‘what have I done? What have I done … ?’
He looked down at her for a moment and then, quietly, he pulled out a chair and sat heavily next to her at the table.
‘You’re Mike’s child?’ she said wonderingly, her eyes roaming over his face. ‘He had two sons, didn’t he? I remember the older one … Andrew.’
‘He died.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Her face crumpled and she reached out to put a hand on this arm. ‘I didn’t know. You poor boy. Losing your father and then …’ Her eyes welled in sympathy. She reached for a piece of kitchen towel and rubbed them impatiently. ‘Ben, I have done a terrible, terrible thing to you – I know I’ve hurt and confused you and I am so, so sorry – but, you have to believe … your father never cheated with me. To my knowledge he never cheated with anyone. He was a decent, lovely, honest man who loved his wife and sons dearly and was a loyal friend to Patrick. That’s my memory of him. We were all devastated when he was killed. It was weeks before I left. My memory of those last few days here is of this deep, deep sadness …’ She stared into space, remembering. ‘I think that’s why he popped into my head when Maddy was asking before she came here. I’m so sorry to have lied. It was just … I was wanting to protect her. It was spur of the moment and I panicked. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I’m sorry I have.’
‘But me and Maddy, we must be brother and sister,’ said Ben. ‘We’ve both got Dad’s green eyes; Patrick’s are brown.’
‘Mine are green,’ said Helen, impatient now. ‘Look,’ she said, leaning forward and pointing, quite unnecessarily, at her eyes, bloodshot with crying. ‘Green. It’s not so desperately unusual, you know.’
‘So,’ Ben was processing slowly, hardly daring to believe, ‘if Patrick really is Maddy’s father … then …’
‘You poor darling,’ said Helen. ‘You’ve been torturing yourself all these weeks. No wonder she says you’ve been behaving oddly.’ She looked at him with such pity and compassion Ben nearly laid his head in her lap.
‘I care about her so much,’ he said, his voice cracking.
‘Makes two of us.’
‘I’m glad she’s not my sister.’
‘So am I,’ she laughed. ‘But I’m hugely glad you met. She loves you. You do know that, don’t you?’
Ben nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He looked at his watch. It was late. ‘I’ve got to go to Serena and Giles,’ he said. ‘They need me.’
‘Of course. But let me make you something to eat. Bacon and eggs? And perhaps have a coffee before you drive …’
‘That would be amazing.’
‘And then,’ she said, standing up and reaching for the frying pan. ‘You seriously need to talk to my daughter.’
Another nightmare woke her and she switched on the bedside light. It was four o’clock. Wearily Maddy dragged herself out of bed and into the shower. Putting on her scruffy but comfortably familiar clothes an idea came to her.
She shivered as she walked to the car. The freezing rain fell lightly and she hoped that, at Olympia, she would be able to unpack the car under cover. Glancing again at her watch – coming up to five o’clock – she drove through the gate and away, switching on her radio and the car heater as she went.
Soon, on the main road, with the warmth and the comforting familiarity of the shipping forecast, her spirits lifted. The roads were clear except for the haulage trucks and the occasional police patrol car. She would take no time getting to London at this time of day. As the dawn broke, she thought back to when she made a similar journey, driving at dawn, to see Patrick in the hospital those few short months ago. Fearful and not knowing what to expect, her anxiety had heightened as she got closer to Havenbury. This time, driving towards London felt like a relief, with every mile taking her further away from the pressure cooker her life had become there.
It was time for a new start – but first she needed to tie up a few loose ends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Arriving in Chiswick at around half past five in the morning, Maddy needed to kill a little time. She stopped at the garage on High Road, filled up with petrol and bought a vending-machine coffee to drink in the car. She looked at the unappetising food on offer and grabbed a bag of wine gums instead.
It was still only quarter to six when she pulled up outside hers and Simon’s maisonette in their pretty little road off the high street. Miraculously there was a space directly outside the house, and she had a good view of the front garden and sitting-room window as she sat sipping her coffee. The scarlet geraniums she had planted in the window box had been allowed to die, a few withered leaves still clinging to skeletal stems. Behind them, on the windowsill inside, there was a large orchid with fleshy leaves and bright-pink flowers. Not Maddy’s sort of thing. And not Simon’s either, she would have thought.
Finishing her coffee, she looked at her watch. Just past six o’clock. That would do.
She checked her reflection in the driver’s mirror. Not good. Ah well. Getting out and locking the door, she walked confidently to the bright-red-painted front door and knocked. It seemed presumptuous to use her keys.
Nothing happened. She knocked again, rapping hard with the knocker three times. This time, she saw shadows moving in the obscured glass panels and the familiar rattle of the chain and locks.
The door opened and Simon was standing there, ruffled and bleary in his boxers and T-shirt.
‘Oh my God!’ he said, rubbing his eyes.
‘No need to deify me,’ she joked weakly. ‘Just “Maddy” will do.’
No kiss of greeting was offered.
‘You might have called.’
‘I might, but it was a bit of a last-minute thing,’ she explained. ‘May I?’ she added, gesturing. It was her flat too, after all.
‘Yeah,’ he said slowly, and then gathered himself. ‘Yes, of course, do. We – I – was in bed.’
She raised an eyebrow.
‘Well …’ said Simon defensively as they went through to the kitchen at the end of the hallway, ‘you can’t reasonably expect … We talked. Your email …’
She could hardly criticise. She may have failed to get Ben into bed with her, but it wasn’t for want of trying.
‘I’m not blaming you,’ she told Simon. ‘Look, I’m not here to be awkward … to make trouble … and I’m sorry for just showing up too,’ she said.
He nodded his head sharply. ‘Yeah …’ he said, clearly examining and liking the position of ‘aggrieved ex-boyfriend’ better than being cast as the guilty party.
‘Coffee?’
‘I’m fine, thanks. So, do I know her?’
‘No, don’t think so. We met through work. She’s the one I was telling you about. Alexis. She came in to help when you – er … became sort of “absent without leave”.’ He shot her a look.
Maddy nearly laughed. He had always been lazy. The idea of deciding the freelance worker could also slot into the absent girlfriend role to save him the bother of looking elsewhere was typical of him.
‘So clearly Alexis is a woman of many talents,’ she teased. ‘Sorry,’ she added. It was hardly the girl’s fault and – after all – she was taking something Maddy no longer wanted.
At that moment, there was a shuffling noise and a pretty, tousle-haired,
sleepy-looking woman wearing one of Simon’s T-shirts appeared in the kitchen doorway.
‘You must be Alexis,’ said Maddy, standing and holding out her hand. ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you both so early. I’m Maddy.’
Alexis immediately stiffened, halfway through the act of holding out her hand to shake Maddy’s. She shot a look at Simon and then back at Maddy.
‘It’s fine,’ said Maddy. ‘I appreciate it’s all a bit ad hoc, but I’m just really aware I’ve left people dangling a bit over the last couple of months and I’m here to sort things out.’
‘Are you staying in Sussex, then?’ asked Simon.
‘Actually no,’ said Maddy with a pang, blinking back the tears that sprang to her eyes. ‘I’m going to come back here.’
He shifted uneasily on his seat.
‘Not “here” here,’ she clarified. ‘That’s what we need to sort out. I’ll need to get my own place.’
‘Fine,’ said Simon, with relief. ‘You’ll have to let us all know when you’re settled.’
‘Mm … sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but it’s a bit more complicated than that. I’m going to need to sort this place out with you. My name’s on the lease, remember, and half the deposit is mine too. I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid.’
‘Yes, yes, fine. I’ll have to deal with that. Next week do you?’
‘Brilliant,’ she said, relieved. Funds in her account were now so low, the deposit return was in danger of being swallowed up in living expenses.
‘And what about your stuff?’ he asked. ‘We could do with the space, to be honest …’
‘Sure, no problem. I was wondering if I could grab some of my clothes. I’ll arrange to collect the rest as soon as I can. You don’t have a couple of bin bags by any chance, do you?’
Alexis rummaged in a drawer and handed her a roll. ‘Let me give you a hand,’ she said.
It was odd going into the bedroom where she and Simon had slept for nearly three years. Alexis’s clothes were scattered around the room. Maddy was sure Simon would have a problem with that. The bedding was new, too – a fussy Chinoiserie print she couldn’t imagine he would have chosen. None of the make-up and other clutter on the dressing table was Maddy’s.
Alexis saw her looking. ‘Sorry, your stuff … Look, I just put it in this drawer.’ She opened it and they both looked inside. It was a pretty paltry effort in comparison with the top. Alexis was clearly a much more glamorous woman than Maddy was, or would ever be.
‘I don’t need this stuff right now,’ she said. ‘But the clothes … ?’
Alexis went swiftly to the wardrobe. ‘Here,’ she said, opening the furthest door to the right on the wall of wardrobe space, which Simon had been impressed by when they viewed the flat. ‘Plenty of storage,’ he had said to the letting agent, as if he was selling to her and not vice versa.
Maddy’s clothes were shuffled up, on hangers, to the far side of the space.
‘And here,’ she continued, lifting the lid of the blanket box at the end of the bed.
‘I’ll get all this out of your way.’ Maddy lifted armfuls out of the wardrobe and folded them into a bin bag, hangers and all. She then scooped the contents of the box into another two bin bags and she was done.
‘So,’ said Simon, who had now showered and got dressed, rediscovering his bullish demeanour, ‘thanks for your email about the pitch and the partnership. Obviously disappointed not to have you on board and all that …’
Alexis looked at Simon sharply. Maddy wondered whether he had shared the whole business plan idea with her. Probably not.
‘I appreciate your understanding,’ said Maddy. ‘I hope the presentation draft was helpful.’
‘Yeah, it was a start,’ he said ungenerously. ‘We’ll let you know how we get on, shall we?’
‘Do.’
‘And I’ll get onto the lease thing, pronto, and all that …’ He trailed off, looking around the flat vaguely.
‘I’ll leave you to decide whose is whose,’ said Maddy, who genuinely, she discovered with surprise, really didn’t care about splitting their possessions.
Her eyes lighted on the large wooden duck she had bought when they had both gone to Indonesia. They used it as a doorstop for the sitting-room door that had an annoying tendency to swing shut. Simon had pronounced it hideous at first sight. Maddy consequently haggled and bought it, defiantly lugging it around for the rest of their trip.
‘I’ll take this, shall I?’ she said, picking it up and tucking it under her arm.
‘Be my guest,’ said Simon, with a genuinely warm smile at last. ‘I really do wish you well, Maddy,’ he said, sweeping her into a cautious hug.
She hugged him back with the arm that wasn’t holding the duck. ‘So do I, Simon. So do I,’ she said, her smile wobbling only slightly.
He then crammed the bin bags of clothes in and around the exhibition stock and display materials. The duck had taken up residence on top of Maddy’s paperwork on the front seat, where it stared glassily through the windscreen.
Alexis and Simon stood in the doorway, arms around each other’s waists, to wave Maddy off. She could imagine them breathing a sigh of relief as soon as she turned the corner out of sight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
On the main road the traffic had increased substantially. Maddy looked at her watch. Already seven o’clock and she still had to get to Olympia, negotiate the unloading issues, set up the stand and change into clothes, which currently lurked in one or more of the bin bags.
The traffic crawled and Maddy’s stress levels rose. She switched on the radio to distract her but the jolly, high-energy breakfast programme felt too frenetic and the frequent traffic reports and time checks just added to the tension. She switched it off and concentrated on the car in front.
The dawn had given way to a gloomy winter’s day, with a steel-grey sky producing frozen rain, which fell intermittently, making her switch her windscreen wipers on, then off again, every few minutes.
At last, her satnav guided her into the exhibition centre where she was greeted by a jovial security man, who checked out her paperwork and explained where to unload and park.
Serena had done well with the stand position. It was to the left of the main entrance, opposite one of the cafes and far enough in not to fall foul of the human tendency not to focus on what you are looking at for at least the first few metres. It was small, though, just two metres deep and three metres across the front.
The aisle space in front of the stands was crammed with stock and materials, and people stepped over each other’s stuff to set up their own stands. Thanks to the Velcro dots Maddy had pre-stuck on the display boards, they all went up without a hitch and looked great. She took a quick picture on her phone and texted it to Keith the photographer and to Serena. Then, she got on with setting up the products. She was glad she had practised in Serena’s kitchen. She saw a couple of the other stand holders looking askance at her pile of cardboard boxes but, once they were carefully draped with the blankets and had the other products laid out on them, Maddy thought they looked just as good as the other stallholders’ much more elaborate and expensive solutions. The straw bales would have looked great, though. They could do that next time. If there was a next time.
Right, Maddy thought to herself, the stand was looking appreciably better than she was, with her hair on end and the scruffy jeans she had put on what felt like aeons ago. She made one last trip out to the car and, this time, rummaged in her bin bags. Extracting a charcoal-grey trouser suit and an uncreased burnt-orange camisole top that would subtly echo the Bespoke Consortium brand colours, she rummaged again through the one which contained her shoes for a pair of ankle boots with killer heels. She moved the car to the outside car park and trudged back with her bundle of clothes and her handbag through the icy rain to the ladies’ loos nearest her stand. In a tiny cubicle she shimmied her way into her smarter clothes, grateful that the suit trousers had a belt with sufficient holes in
it to stop them falling down. She tightened it three holes more than the mark showed she had before.
The orange camisole leant a little colour to her face, thankfully. As she put on make-up, smearing foundation to eliminate her freckles, she noticed her cheekbones seemed to have emerged, needing less blusher than usual to disguise her round face. Taking care to make up her eyes with sharply defined liner, several coats of mascara and a neutral eyeshadow with chestnut brown shaded carefully into the socket, she stepped back to assess the effect. A slick of a dark lipstick she hardly ever wore completed the look. Wetting her hair to get it smooth, she wrestled it into a small bun at the nape of her neck, pulling it straight so it came back off her face completely. This was the severe, polished look she had got used to wearing in her London life. It was time to reacquaint herself with it.
‘Wow,’ came a voice when she returned to the stand, tip-tapping on the floor with her killer heels. ‘You scrub up well.’
‘Camilla,’ said the owner of the voice, who was standing in front of the stand next to Maddy’s. She held out her hand and Maddy shook it with a smile.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I needed an overhaul after this,’ she waved her hand at her own stand.
‘That scrubs up well too,’ said Camilla. ‘Your first time?’
Maddy nodded. ‘Not my first exhibition, but this is a new thing. You?’
‘Third year running. It’s the only one I do – they’re all so expensive, aren’t they?’
Maddy nodded again. ‘But you come back,’ she said, ‘so this is worth it, presumably?’
‘I always get something,’ said Camilla. ‘I cover my costs and more,’ she said. ‘Still waiting for the big break, though, obviously. Got to be in it to win it and all that.’
‘So true,’ said Maddy, looking at Camilla’s stand.
‘Are these your designs?’ she asked. Camilla had a series of single wallpaper strips decorating her stand. There was a samples book on the table too. Maddy made a note to take a look later. ‘They’re great, and they do look familiar …’