by Jane Green
They were married, quickly, at Marylebone Register Office, a Mary Quant empire-line minidress and a large bouquet of creamy roses covering Linda’s growing bump.
Linda gave up her history degree, happy at the time to play at being a wife and mother, and when Dan was born she was quite certain she had done the right thing.
Dan still has pictures of Linda, gorgeous despite giving birth weeks before, cradling her tiny baby, gazing adoringly into his big blue eyes (now brown, just in case you were wondering).
Emma arrived three years later, followed three years after that by Richard. They were all living in the suburbs of London by then, Linda being the ideal housewife, befriending all her neighbors, hosting tea parties for her children.
Dan says she is the perfect mother. He says he adores her and that I will too. He says that while she is still strong, opinionated, outspoken, she is also warm, loving, kind.
In the pictures of Linda with her children, she is always beaming, but she is more reserved in the pictures with her husband. Dan says that the children are all the apple of her eye, but that his parents are still together, and still as happy as can be expected, which is something of a rarity these days.
I’ve asked Dan if he is the favorite, and he has shrugged. Richard, he says, is the baby, and Emma the rebel. Possibly he is the favorite, but that’s only because he’s the eldest. His mother calls him every day, sometimes twice, and he claims to tell her everything.
I don’t know if this is normal. I have nothing to compare it with, but if I had a mother who loved me and made me the apple of her eye, I am quite sure I would love her calling me every day. She would be my mentor, my best friend. I’m certain I would ask her opinion on everything, and so, in the very beginning, I never thought it strange, never caught even a whiff of anything odd.
I spent many hours quizzing Dan about his family, trying to learn as much about them as possible before meeting them, trying to work out who they were, what they were like, who they wanted me to be.
And eventually the big day arrived. Sunday lunch at his parents’. With Richard and Emma too.
My wardrobe crisis had resolved itself in a pair of classic black trousers and white shirt, a silver chain around my neck and flat black shoes on my feet. The perfect outfit for a warmish day in spring, but even for me, I looked conservative. How could they possibly not love me, I thought. I look like the girl next door.
At the last minute I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and threw a bright green sweater around my shoulders. “Ready!” I shouted down the stairs to Dan, who was impatiently tapping his foot.
I ran down the stairs and Dan started laughing.
“What? Do I look awful? Why are you laughing? Shit. I’m going back up to change.”
“No, Ellie!” Dan started to apologize. “It’s only that you look just like my mother. You don’t normally wear clothes like that, that’s all. I’m not used to seeing you look like that.”
I groaned. “Oh, God. That’s awful. I have to change.”
“No!” Firmly now. “We don’t have time. And anyway, you should take it as a compliment. My mother’s the most elegant woman I know, and you look gorgeous.”
“Really?” I started to relax.
“Really. You couldn’t be more perfect. They’re going to love you.”
I shouldn’t have been the slightest bit surprised when Linda, or Mrs. Cooper as she was to me then, opened the door in black trousers and a white shirt, a chain around her neck and an orange sweater around her shoulders. The only differences between us were that her clothes were clearly designer, her shirt silk, her sweater cashmere, and her necklace gold.
I stood back to examine her as she threw her arms around Dan and embraced him with an enormous hug.
Withdrawing, she turned to me, a warm smile on her face. I smiled back and faltered slightly, unsure whether to shake her hand or kiss her on the cheek, not wanting to do the wrong thing.
I’d brought peonies and held them out to her, saying how lovely it was to meet her. She took the flowers and thanked me, putting her arms around me to give me a quick squeeze, and I instantly relaxed.
“Ellie,” she said, taking me by the arm and leading me inside, “we’ve heard so much about you. And look at you!” She gestured to her clothes, and then to mine. “We look like twins!”
I laughed and followed her into the kitchen. “Dan’s here everyone!” said Mrs. Cooper, as Dan’s father put down a knife on the chopping board and came over to shake my hand.
“How do you do?” he said, rather formally I thought, but then he smiled and I knew I liked him. “Sorry,” he apologized, wiping his hand on a tea towel. “They’ve put me to work with the tomatoes and I’m covered with the juice.”
I laughed as another voice said, “We’re just trying to prove to him that it isn’t all women’s work. Hi!”
Emma was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through a copy of Hello! and eating handfuls of honey-roasted nuts from a small ceramic bowl in the middle of the table. She glanced up and said hi to her brother, looking me up and down and making me instantly wish I had dressed differently, for I could see immediately she thought I was dull, conservative, middle-aged before my time.
And who could blame her, for Emma, a year younger than me, looked much as if she had stepped straight from the pages of a trendy magazine: skinny, low-slung trousers and high pointed boots, a tight shirt, and bright red streaks in her hair.
“I’m Emma,” she said, “obviously. And you, obviously, are Ellie. How weird,” she said, smiling. “You’re dressed just like Mum.”
Dan’s father looked me up and down and then looked over at Linda, and laughed.
“Good Lord!” he said. “What an amazing coincidence.”
“I know.” I made a face. “I feel slightly ridiculous, as if I’m trying to be ten years older than I am.”
“No. You look good. Classic. Mum would love it if I dressed more like you. She’s always telling me not to spend money on the designer labels because they’re only in fashion for a season and it’s a waste of money. ‘Buy a few classic pieces,’ she says, but that look just isn’t me.” I love that Emma is instantly chatty—she makes me feel immediately at home, as if I’ve known her forever.
“But you look great,” I said, smiling. “I wish I could dress more like you, but I’d feel like a fake. As if everyone would look at me and know I’m not really trendy; I’m just pretending to be.”
Emma laughed. “Part of this is for my job.”
“What do you do?” I asked, although I already knew.
“I’m a stylist,” she said. “Mostly magazine shoots. So I’m mixing with models and photographers all the time, hence the need to look the part. Dan says you work for Calden.”
I nodded.
“I was there last night! That’s a great job, what an amazing bar.”
“If you can get in.”
“I spent the opening week befriending the doormen,” she confided. “I now count Luke and Sean among my closest friends.”
“That would be until they make a pass at you and you reject them.”
“I don’t think they’d dare,” Emma laughed. “I think they just love all the attention from the laydeez.”
Dan came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “So what do you think of my baby sister?”
“I’m only your baby sister by age,” Emma snorted, throwing another handful of nuts into her mouth. “In terms of maturity I’ve got about ten years on you. Didn’t anyone ever tell you how much more advanced girls are than boys?”
“I’d argue with you if you weren’t wearing such pointed boots,” Dan chuckled. “I still remember that time you kicked me in the balls with those stilettos.”
Emma shook her head and looked at me. “Can you believe it? I was fourteen at the time and he still hasn’t forgiven me.”
“Children, children,” Mrs. Cooper admonished, walking over to the table and sitting down, pulling the magazine ove
r to get a better look at the latest pictures of Jennifer Lopez. “No rows today, thank you. We haven’t been together like this in weeks.”
“You mean two weeks.” Dan smiled as his mother shrugged. “So where is my errant younger brother anyway?” continued Dan. “Up to no good as usual?”
“Oh, don’t start,” Mrs. Cooper said. “He had to meet—”
“—a man about a dog?” Emma interjected, and their father suppressed a chuckle from the other side of the kitchen.
“Stop it, you two,” he said. “He had a meeting about a new Internet venture.”
“A meeting? On a Sunday morning? Are you serious?”
“You know Richard. His working hours never fit in with the rest of us.”
“That’s because he never does any work.” Emma shook her head. “Thank God he’s got you and Dad to bail him out or I’d be throwing him pound coins on a street corner every morning.”
“Emma!” Mrs. Cooper looked annoyed. “Just because Richard hasn’t yet found his niche in life doesn’t mean he’s not going to. And I won’t have any talk about us bailing him out. You know nothing about it, and may I remind you of who bought you that laptop computer recently.”
“Only because you were buying one for Richard and you got a better deal if you bought two.”
The tension was building, and while it was interesting to see the family dynamic, I was starting to feel uncomfortable, so I decided to change the subject.
“Mrs. Cooper, is there anything I can do? Can I help at all?”
She turned to me, visibly relaxing. “No, Ellie, we’re all set. I’ve made Dan’s favorite, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.”
“I didn’t know that’s your favorite.” I looked at Dan. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made it for you.”
“Ah,” said Mrs. Cooper, standing up. “But it will never be quite like his mother’s, will it?” I sat, trying to digest this statement, wondering whether it was an insult or whether it was just an adoring mother, when she patted me on the arm. “And you mustn’t call me Mrs. Cooper. Call me Linda. Mrs. Cooper always makes me think of my mother-in-law.” She cast a glance at her husband and dropped her voice. “And frankly I’d rather not think about her if at all possible.”
“Mum!” Emma said. “She only died a few months ago. At least let the poor woman turn cold in her grave before you start bitching.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. God rest the old cow’s soul,” Linda said in a voice low enough for her husband not to hear, and Emma rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine.
“Aha!” Dan leaped up and gave his brother a big hug. “The prodigal son returns.”
“Richard!”
Linda bustled over and practically shoved Dan out of the way to hug him, after which he bent down and planted a kiss on Emma’s cheek, then shook my hand with a cheeky grin.
And I could see at once that he got away with murder. He was a thinner, younger, cuter version of Dan. I think Dan is charming, but this is mostly because I love him and because he is well mannered and polite. Richard, on the other hand, oozed so much charm that it was quite possible one of us would have to fetch a mop to clean it up off the floor.
“You must be the lovely Ellie,” he said, giving me a kiss, and despite myself I felt a faint flush. “Thank God, Dan seems to have finally inherited some of my good taste after all.”
“Good taste? Are you being funny? Your last girlfriend looked like she’d just stepped off a street corner in Westbourne Grove.”
“I take it you’ve met my bitter sibling.” Richard raised an eyebrow.
“I think you meant to say better sibling.”
I sat back and enjoyed the show. Michael and Linda were finishing the food, while Dan, Rich, Emma, and of course myself, the observer, sat at the kitchen table. I watched them bicker and laugh, with comments that could be construed as insults disappearing under the love that was clearly so strong and so true.
“Tell me, Ellie, do you have brothers and sisters?” Linda called from the kitchen.
I shook my head regretfully and walked over to her. “I always wanted a big family, but my mother died when I was a teenager, and my father’s remarried.”
Linda stopped, her face filled with concern. “Oh, how awful,” she said. “How did she die?”
“In a car accident when I was thirteen.” Naturally I omit the part about her being drunk at the time.
Dan’s father looked stricken. “Dreadful,” he murmured. “What a terrible thing to happen to someone so young.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” echoed Linda. “So young. Are you still close to your father?”
I shook my head. “He remarried and lives in Potters Bar, so I don’t really see that much of him. He has two children with his new wife, though, so officially I suppose I have two stepsiblings, although I’ve only met them a handful of times.”
“And that’s it?” Linda seemed horrified. “No other family? Uncles? Aunts? Grandparents?”
“Nope, and it’s fine. I’m used to it, but I always dreamed of having brothers and sisters and being part of a big family like this.”
“Good,” she said, putting an arm around my shoulders and giving me a squeeze. “Because you can now be part of our family. How does that sound?”
“It sounds great.” And it did.
Lunch was delicious. And long. And raucous. Dan, Emma, and Richard seemed to regress to their teenage years as the meal progressed, and I couldn’t help but join in, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl, giggling at private jokes that the parents couldn’t hear.
There was no doubt whatsoever that Linda wore the trousers in this household. Michael looked vaguely bemused by what was going on, was jovial and sweet, but said less and less throughout the meal, mostly because he was constantly interrupted by his wife.
Dan and Richard were clearly adored by their mother, who couldn’t stop smiling every time she looked at them. She quizzed Richard on every aspect of his life.
“So do you think this Internet venture is going to work?” she asked.
Richard nodded, his face now serious. “I actually think we’re on to a big one,” he said. “The meeting this morning went really well and as soon as we’ve worked out the financing it’s a goer.”
“Um, I hate to be the one to burst your bubble”—Linda rolled her eyes as soon as Emma started to speak—“but has anyone told you that the dot-com boom is over?”
“Actually, Emma,” Linda answered before Richard had a chance to speak, “the good ideas are still surviving. Look at Amazon. Look at Google. What about eBay? It’s just settled down. People aren’t able to make the ridiculous amounts of money they were making in the early years, but if this is as exciting an idea as Richard thinks, then there’s no reason why it shouldn’t take off.”
“But that’s what you said about the concierge service thing he was doing last year. And what was it before that, some self-help motivational course?”
“There were bloody good reasons why those didn’t work out,” Richard said defensively. “And mostly bad timing. How were we to know competitors with more funding were setting up at the same time?”
“Um…research?”
“Emma,” Linda said icily, “can you just give your brother a rest for a change?”
“Yeah,” agreed Richard. “When your earnings fall into the six-figure category, then we can talk.”
“Why, so you can fleece me for your next business venture?” Emma grinned and Richard hit her playfully.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed. “Why would I try to fleece you when Dan is (a) much nicer than you, and (b) has more money than you?”
“And don’t forget Dad of course,” Dan said. “He’s the investor you need to really hit up.”
“Dad,” said Emma in a wheedling voice, “you know that car I’ve been talking about—”
“Forget it,” Linda said. “Your car is perfectly fine. Can we all stop talking about money now, please? Whatever will El
lie think?”
What I think is how lucky they are to have each other, to have all of this, to be able to fight, and bicker, and laugh, and push and shove, and know that at the end of it they all still have each other.
And of course they don’t know this, don’t know any different, much as I don’t know any different myself.
How lucky they are. And how unaware of how lucky they are. Especially Emma. I watched Emma with her mother, felt the tension between them, and felt saddened that Emma had no idea of how grateful she should be to have a mother, let alone a mother like Linda.
If I were Emma and Linda were my mother, I’d be so proud, and so grateful. I’d hang out with her and bring her with me on shopping trips. We’d meet for lunch and swap gossip, and I’d fill her in on man troubles and friendship dilemmas.
She’s the sort of woman you could go to a spa with, sit and have a makeover with, be terribly girly with, without feeling the slightest bit guilty.
And when things went badly, when I was dumped, or lonely, or life wasn’t going in quite the way I expected it to, I’d run home to be fed chicken soup, and beef stew, and roast beef and Yorkshire pudding by Linda. I’d want her sympathy and her friendship, her acceptance and her understanding.
If I were Emma, my mother would be my best friend, and, as much as I liked Emma, as easy as I found it to talk to her throughout lunch, I could see that the relationship was not an easy one, and I so badly wanted to show her what she had, to tell her about my own life, about having no one. Until I met Dan.
4
They loved you,” Dan announced the next day. “Not that I’m surprised.”
“They did?” I couldn’t hide the relief and delight in my voice.
“Absolutely.” And he grinned. “In fact my mother said you were perfect for me.”
“Uh-oh.” I pulled away from cuddling up against Dan on the sofa and gave him a sharp look. “You’re not one of those men who only goes out with women your mother disapproves of, and gets bored with everyone she likes?”
Dan started to laugh. “No, Ellie. I’m not going anywhere for, oh, I don’t know”—he looked at his watch—“at least an hour.”