by Maeve Haran
‘Fuck off, Matthew,’ Suze greeted him. ‘That’s just another excuse for men to drop their drawers.’
‘I must admit, I’m surprised at Duncan,’ Debora commented, helping Stella look for ingredients for Fabia. ‘I thought he had more discrimination than to fall for someone so obvious. Connie was so subtle and sophisticated.’
‘And dead,’ reminded Matthew to a response of such universal outrage that he grabbed a bottle from the fridge and scuttled off.
‘I thought he had his eye on someone else altogether,’ Suze announced, not looking at Stella. ‘She’s just a posh casserole lady.’
‘What is a casserole lady?’ Debora asked, intrigued by this unfamiliar British jargon.
‘You must have them in America. They appear after death or divorce, whenever a man’s on the market. Oh, you poor thing, it must be so lonely, have this casserole I’ve lovingly prepared. Three weeks later, they’re in his bed and in three months, they’ve bagged him. I’ve seen it time and time again.’
Debora shook her head. ‘And fancy calling a boxer a silly name like Donleavy.’
The kitchen door opened and Amber appeared on the hunt for ice. ‘Is this a private coven?’ she asked breezily, unaware that she was the topic of conversation. ‘Or can anyone join in?’
Stella filled up the ice bucket and sent her back to summon Fabia.
Stella had to admit, Fabia was indeed a wonderful cook. The barbecue at the King’s Arms had been no fluke. Fabia really knew her stuff. The scallops with bacon and lentils were divine.
Throughout the evening Stella kept checking her phone for news of Jesse, but there was none.
Fortunately for her ragged nerves, the party began to disband fairly early.
‘Right,’ Duncan drained his glass and became businesslike, ‘from tomorrow we’re on the road again. I’ll be round at nine a.m. sharp to collect you, Cam. Do you think you can walk on stage without crutches? If not, we can always invent some funny story about you tripping over a roadie.’
‘Hang on, mate,’ Cameron protested, his pride piqued. ‘I’m as fit as you are. I could somersault onto the stage if you wanted me to.’
Duncan grinned and looked at Cameron’s foot sceptically. ‘Just ambling would be good enough for me. And Matthew –’ He turned to say goodbye to Matthew and found him gently snoring in a wing chair. ‘Good, at least he won’t be leading you astray. You’ve both had quite enough. Just remember what happened at the Roundhouse, will you?’
Cameron regarded him balefully. ‘I don’t see why you should harp on about one little slip.’
‘Jaysus,’ Amber demanded, trying to rouse her somnolent boxer, ‘so what happened at the Roundhouse?’
‘We had to bring Cameron back from the dead. He tried to drown himself in several gallons of cheap beer. Debora and Stella were amazing.’
‘Angels of mercy, were you?’ Amber managed to make it sound vaguely insulting. ‘I like a good session myself. Why do you think I called the dog Donleavy?’
‘No, do tell,’ Suze replied innocently. ‘Could it be after J. P. Donleavy, author of that classic tale of Dublin drunkenness and dissipation, The Ginger Man?’
‘Indeed it is,’ Amber replied, a note of sourness behind her determined gaiety. ‘Well spotted, ladies.’
‘So, Amber, have you had any shows on lately?’ Stella could see that Suze had taken one of her rare dislikes to Amber O’Riordan.
‘Oh I’ve dispensed with all that sort of nonsense. Only a mug would stand by and let galleries take fifty per cent just for providing some crap white wine for a private view and a bit of wall space. I only show on the Internet.’
‘Do you dispense with reviews as well?’
‘Who needs reviews? They’re only from old white men, anyway. When I want publicity I create it myself.’
‘And how do you do that?’ Suze asked sweetly.
‘I sat naked on a plinth in St Stephen’s Green for two days,’ Amber boasted, sticking out her considerable frontage. The men all watched her, fascinated.
‘I hope you didn’t frighten the pigeons. And did you get lots of publicity?’
‘I did till this stupid guard kept putting his coat over me. Some nonsense about reminding him of his daughter.’
‘How very inconvenient. I hope you told him where to get off.’
‘Too right! I don’t think he’ll be forgetting me in a hurry. Come on now, Donleavy. Time to get back to the hotel.’
Stella wondered for a brief moment if Amber and Duncan would be sharing a room. How bloody ridiculous. Of course they would. Perhaps it would be Duncan who would need waking in the morning for once. Amber O’Riordan looked like the type who would keep him up for quite a lot of the night.
Really she should be happy for Duncan. He wasn’t the kind of man who went into relationships lightly. Telling herself she’d thought quite enough about the subject, she made herself a cup of tea and decided to ignore the clearing up.
Cameron, to everyone’s surprise, was up bright and early. If the amount of alcohol he’d put away last night hadn’t affected him, God knows how much he must have drunk the time he’d been out cold. Matthew, on the other hand, was neither bright nor even conscious. He had burrowed beneath the duvet as if it were a tent pitched in a polar landscape so that no part of him was visible.
‘Matthew,’ Stella attempted, pulling the top of the duvet back and shaking him gently. ‘Wake up!’
Matthew only groaned.
His clothes littered the floor like one of those clichéd Hollywood movies where the couple have torn their clothes off to have wild sex. He had actually collapsed insensible and had proceeded to snore loudly for most of the night.
Since Matthew was clearly not going to move she dressed quickly and went downstairs to see Cameron off herself. A small knot of people, including the ghastly Mr and Mrs Husky from next door, had gathered to see the last of the Airstream.
The only problem was that Duncan had still not arrived to drive it. Damn that Amber woman. Duncan was always so quietly efficient. Stella realized her reaction to Amber was morphing from determined tolerance to active dislike.
She was just about to call Duncan when a car hove into view and disgorged Duncan and Amber, who was wearing an equally revealing ensemble, and ridiculous high heels of the kind that Naomi Campbell had fallen off. Stella watched hopefully for a similar performance.
‘Sorry we’re late,’ Amber smiled in a manner she no doubt supposed was roguish, ‘we overslept.’
She caught sight of the husky sitting obediently on the pavement and tottered over to stroke it.
In a rare burst of good taste, Shackleton growled. ‘He can probably smell my dog on me,’ she tittered, making even this simple statement sound faintly suggestive.
‘I don’t suppose Cameron’s up?’ Duncan enquired.
‘Been up for hours. I’ve fed him toast and coffee with lots of orange juice. Actually, he’s in an excellent mood. He’s watching The Simpsons in the sitting room.’
‘It must be The Glebe agreeing to the recording. It’s turned Cam into a spring lamb.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Stella grinned. ‘More of a happy ram.’
‘I’ll settle for that. How’s the gout? He has been taking his pills, hasn’t he? I’m hoping he might be able to walk on stage tomorrow without the crutches. So far the gout story hasn’t got out.’
But Stella was unable to answer this. She had spotted Emma’s hatchback speeding down the road towards them. Emma, still wearing her pyjamas, tumbled out. ‘Mum,’ she blurted, her face blotched with crying, ‘it’s Jesse. He isn’t with Dora after all!’
Stella put her arm round her daughter and shepherded her inside, away from the fascinated gazes of Amber O’Riordan, Mr and Mrs Husky and Shackleton.
‘The thing is,’ Emma sobbed as soon as they were inside, ‘we’ve no idea where he’s gone. And it’s all my stupid fault for having a go at him!’
She slumped down on the sofa nex
t to Cameron, who seemed so engrossed by the dilemmas of Homer and Mr Burns that he didn’t even notice.
Duncan and Amber followed them in. With his usual presence of mind Duncan suggested that Amber go and make some tea.
‘I’m not your bloody skivvy,’ she protested, her bosoms heaving inappropriately.
‘I didn’t think you were,’ Duncan replied calmly. ‘Stella and Emma need a moment together, that’s all.’
‘Why don’t you make the tea, then?’
Duncan very sensibly ignored her and she stomped off.
‘Where’s Dad?’ Emma demanded.
‘Still in bed. He and Cameron had a bit of a night.’
‘Oh great. Just when I need him he’s got a hangover.’
‘So what happened?’ Stella took her hand to try and calm her down.
‘Stuart went round there last night but no one was in. We didn’t really think anything of it. Then he had to go in for an early meeting at Belmarsh prison, so I said I’d ring. I managed to get hold of Dora on her mobile. The thing is, Mum, he hasn’t been there at all!’ Emma began to cry again. ‘And Stuart doesn’t even know yet. I couldn’t get hold of him. Oh, God, Mum, what if something’s happened to him? He’s only sixteen. And he’s so trusting. He always thinks the best of people. I know I blamed Dora, but it was my fault too. I can see that now. And I shouldn’t have gone on about his exams.’
‘Have you tried his friends?’ Duncan asked. ‘When I ran away after a row with my parents, I went to my best friend’s.’
‘Did you?’ Emma asked, as if he’d thrown her a lifeline.
‘He wouldn’t be the first teenager to run away after a row.’
Stella glanced at him gratefully.
‘But didn’t they make you ring your mum and dad?’
‘They didn’t know. Neil just smuggled me in.’
‘How long were you away?’
‘A couple of days. When I got back, my dad went berserk, but I could see that they had been really worried, so we all sat down and talked about it.’
‘Tea, anyone?’ Amber plonked the tea down with a disgruntled air. It had slopped all over the tray.
Somehow her arrival made everyone instantly clam up. ‘OK, OK.’ She shrugged, in a rare moment of sensitivity. ‘I’ll go back and take Donleavy for a walk. He’s probably crapped on the hotel carpet by now anyway. How do you get a cab around here?’
They were saved by the arrival of Suze. Before she could even take off her coat or ask what was going on, Stella had given her a meaningful look and delegated the task of driving Amber back to The Glebe to her.
‘The thing is,’ Emma admitted, taking in the significance of this statement for perhaps the first time, ‘he doesn’t really have a best friend. Jesse’s always been a bit of a lone wolf. He doesn’t really go in for friends. Not till this Dora.’
‘She’s not exactly a friend, is she?’ Stella said gently. ‘He must have had someone, Em.’
‘Well, there was one girl, what was her name? Kirsty? But she’s moved to Brighton. I remember he was quite upset.’
‘Do you remember her surname?’ asked Duncan. ‘I’m sure we could track her down. I suppose the question is, do you tell the police?’
‘The police?’ Emma repeated, beginning to shake. ‘Yes, we really ought to, I suppose.’
‘Maybe you’d better get hold of your husband. It sounds as if he’s used to dealing with the authorities if he’s a human rights lawyer.’
‘Oh, God,’ Emma wailed. ‘I’m such a crap mum! He’s going to be furious with me.’
‘Come on, Em,’ Stella put her arm round her daughter, ‘don’t worry about Stuart. It’s Jesse we’ve got to think about. I’ll come with you so you can look for this girl’s details. You’re too shaky to go alone.’
‘I know,’ Emma brightened for the first time, ‘I’ve got the school lists . . . but they’ll be no use if she’s only just moved.’
‘There you are,’ Duncan reassured her. ‘Crap mums don’t keep school lists. Look, once we’ve done the last show in Glasgow we’ll be ending the tour in Brighton. If you haven’t found him by then, we’ll put out a Facebook appeal for him to come to the show.’ He saw her anguished expression and realized this was a mistake. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have him back long before then.’
Emma burst into tears again causing Cameron to suddenly take in the drama unfolding around him.
‘What the fuck’s going on? I never touched the girl!’
Duncan dropped his head into his hands. ‘Never mind, Cam. You just concentrate on Homer.’
‘Do you want me to stay for a bit?’ Stella asked when she drove Emma home.
‘Would you, Mum? I need someone to be home for Izzy and pick up Ruby from the childminder later on. She gave Stella a sudden hug. ‘And just having you there would be such a comfort.’
Stella stroked her daughter’s face, feeling unbearably touched. She wasn’t allowing herself to imagine all the appalling things lurking at the back of her mind that could happen to Jesse because that would be no help to anyone, least of all herself.
They had only been back at Emma’s a few moments when an unfamiliar car drew up outside. Stella’s heart soared when she saw it was Dora, accompanied by both her parents.
But the expressions on their faces soon put her right; the father’s angry, the mother’s sour as an under-ripe lemon.
‘Mrs Cope? My wife and I would like a word.’
Once they were inside they refused all offers of refreshment and even declined to sit down. ‘Mrs Cope, did you know that your son and our daughter have been having sex?’ Stella dreaded what was coming next. ‘It must have been down to your son because Dora would never do such a thing without pressure. She’s far too focussed on her exam results.’
‘Well, he isn’t here. Besides,’ Emma was morphing into a Tiger Mother before Dora’s and her parents’ startled eyes, ‘you can stop talking as if this was still the nineteenth century. Your daughter isn’t some little backstairs skivvy forced into it by the young master, she’s a highly competent young woman and it’s far more likely that if they’re having sex she’s been taking the lead.’
Dora’s father started to protest, but Emma was tolerating no interruptions.
‘As a matter of fact,’ Emma turned the conversation skilfully, ‘I was about to come and ask you, Dora, if you had any idea where he might have gone. Did you know Kirsty who moved to Brighton, for instance?’
‘It wasn’t really Brighton,’ Dora pointed out coolly, ‘it was outside. Somewhere near the Marina, not the cool bit up by Hove where the famous people live.’
‘And what was her other name?’
‘Kirsty Weatherall. Maybe the school could help.’
‘Has he contacted you at all?’
Dora shook her head.
‘So he isn’t here?’ demanded Dora’s father.
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Can you make it clear to him that Dora wouldn’t welcome hearing from him?’
‘Till after the exams,’ chipped in Dora.
Her father ignored her.
‘I expect you need to get back to your revision, Dora,’ Emma said briskly, leading them towards the door. At the last moment she clutched Dora’s arm. ‘You will let me know, won’t you, if you do hear from him?’
Dora’s parents hustled her out before she could reply.
‘I’ll pick up Izzy from school,’ Stella offered when they’d gone, ‘and make her tea. Do you want me to get something for Stuart and you too?’
‘Oh, Mum, you’re an angel.’
‘You’re my precious daughter,’ Stella replied simply. ‘And I really love my grandchildren. Though what I really wonder is what the hell’s happened to their grandfather when you need him.’
As soon as she was outside she rang him to find out.
Matthew, still sleeping it off in bed, woke with a start, unable to believe it was almost 3 p.m. ‘Stella, where are you?’ he demanded in an almost b
elligerent tone which made her want to kill him.
‘If you must know, I have been at Emma’s. Jesse is not with Dora. Indeed, Dora and her parents have just been round to break the happy news that Dora and Jesse have been sleeping together and it’s taking her mind off revising for ten A stars!’
‘They sound ghastly.’
‘Yes. Emma told them to get lost.’
‘Good for her.’
‘Yes, but what about Jesse? We may need her help. She may be all we’ve got. I wonder if this was part of the reason he ran away. It could have all been too much for him. Anyway, I’ve offered to make supper and help out. I’ll stay there if they want me. Suze can man the pet studio until further notice. She can organize the vintage market from there. How’s Fabia doing, by the way? Is she really up for all this stuff she’s taken on?’
‘I think she’s enjoying it,’ Matthew answered, sounding extraordinarily pleased with himself. ‘As a matter of fact, she’s asked me to be her permanent partner.’
It was only after she’d rung off that it struck Stella that that was a very odd phrase indeed.
Stella thought about his words. Should she be wary of Fabia? Fabia had seemed too exotic a bird to roost in suburban Camley. Yet it seemed that she was a sadder figure than anyone had suspected. There was vulnerability underneath that painted exterior. And that could be far more dangerous than outrageous self-confidence.
But today she was too angry with Matthew to care. He should be here supporting his daughter, not staying up all night boozing with Cameron. Had he always been this annoying, and in the everydayness of life, she hadn’t seen it? Or had she made too many allowances for an easy time? Whatever the reason, she didn’t feel like doing it any more.
Stella waited for her granddaughter outside the school gates as the exodus of school children began, the little ones first, skipping gleefully, then the older ones, inevitably on the phones they’d been deprived of all day, shepherded across the road by the lollipop lady, which was just as well since they might have been on Mars for all the attention they were paying to the traffic.