by Kit Eyre
‘No,’ Max interrupted.
‘It wouldn’t be for long –’
‘I’m not shackling myself to someone who’s ashamed of me. I haven’t had to feel like that since I left home. And a fine example you’re setting to Amy by keeping me a secret from her and everyone else. It’s like Drew said –’
‘Drew?’ Valerie cut in. ‘You’ve been talking to him about us?’
Max snorted and pulled her hand free. ‘There you go.’
‘That wasn’t me being ashamed, that was –’
‘Slip of the tongue?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t talk to Drew about this when he’s got all the emotional intellect of a cockroach. I doubt he told you to jump into a family –’
‘You don’t know him,’ Max warned.
‘I know what you’ve told me. Anyway,’ Valerie went on, groping for her hand again, ‘this isn’t about Drew. It’s about our family. Come on, Max. You can’t tell me you don’t want that as much as I do. You, me, Amy – we could be good together, couldn’t we?’
Somehow, the air was stifling, in spite of the breeze. Max took a step forward into the shadows and spooked the blackbird. It took off through the leaves, the worm it’d finally caught waggling in its beak. She watched it up and away then risked a glance back at Valerie. Her face was different, clouded by something like fear.
‘What?’ Max asked.
Valerie inhaled and managed a smile. ‘I’m frightened of losing you, that’s all. It’s strange. I feel comfortable and alive at the same time when I’m with you. Do you know how rare that it? I’ve had one, never both.’
‘What about Tim?’ she pressed before she thought too much about it.
‘Oh, I felt safe with him, yes. He was the first person I’d ever encountered who wanted to look after me and didn’t want something in return. For someone as self-sufficient as I’d learned to be over the years, that took some adjusting to. He left me financially stable so I’d never need anything and yet . . . Everybody needs something, don’t they?’
Max’s throat was tight so she just nodded.
‘I picked politics,’ Valerie continued after a few seconds, ‘and I believe I’m actually good at it, you know. Amy says that I am, but she means it in a derogatory way. I want to make a difference, and I think I’ve got a shot. This seat’s a marginal for a reason. No one keeps their promises, not the council or the current MP. It’s all about Westminster for him, not about anything thing going on here. I can win this.’
‘I reckon you can,’ Max muttered.
Valerie raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you been taking an interest?’
‘I’ve just been keeping my ears open. Some of the customers bleat on and I listen.’
‘What do they say?’ Valerie questioned, biting on her lip.
‘That you’re about, that you’re paying attention. Everything you’d want them to be saying.’
Satisfaction flashed across Valerie’s face. Then it was gone, replaced by that usual expression that made Max want to chuck caution to the wind and let herself get swept away. Everything that had gone on held her in check though, to the point where Valerie’s chin drooped.
‘I need you,’ Valerie said. ‘You’re good for me. And – I think – you’d be good for Amy. Now, I’m willing to give that a chance if you are. Just eight months to the election, Max. We can do this. As a family.’
Max reached a thumb forward and lifted her chin up. She was searching for some hint of that shame Drew was on about, but it wasn’t in Valerie’s eyes – or on her lips. Once they separated, Max kept their foreheads resting together so she couldn’t lose the connection.
‘Well?’ whispered Valerie. ‘Can I tempt you into meeting my daughter and seeing what we can make of that?’
Chapter 16
‘Is it an event you’re going to?’
Amy threw Biddy an indulgent look then focused on the two dresses spread on the bed. Blue stripes were more mature than red butterflies, but the butterfly dress was shorter. It was also her favourite. She put it to one side and returned the striped one to the wardrobe.
‘You’re being very cryptic,’ Biddy persisted.
‘And you’re being nosy.’
‘At my age, I’m allowed to be.’
‘I thought you didn’t agree with taking age-related liberties.’
‘I’m entitled to change my mind,’ she said as she loosened her collar. ‘It’s warm up here.’
Amy frowned and motioned her onto the bed. ‘You’ve been off-colour all day. Are you all right?’
‘It is your mother you’re seeing, isn’t it? You’re not trying to fool me and go off with some unsuitable boy, are you?’
‘Biddy –’
‘I know the signs, Amy. Your father was the same before he brought your mother home. Oh, this is where we need him. I couldn’t bear for you to take the wrong path –’
‘I’ve got a feeling Mum’s seeing someone,’ Amy interrupted.
Biddy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, is that the game? Are you going to meet him? Is it John Foster, after all?’
‘No, it’s not John Foster, I’m sure of that. It’s just that Mum wanted to have dinner with me so maybe we’ll . . . I don’t know. Maybe we’ll talk.’
The half-truth stung on her lips, but she ignored the gnawing in her stomach and continued packing her bag for the rest of the weekend. The jeans and pink camisole top she’d selected for her café trip tomorrow were already stowed in the bottom of her rucksack, although her make-up was still strewn all over the dressing table. She settled for bunching it all together into her case, despite knowing she’d need it to get ready for her meeting with Max.
‘Well, I’m glad,’ said Biddy suddenly.
Amy turned around. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You need to be on the ground floor with something like this. People aren’t as friendly as they first appear. I’m not implying your mother’s a silly schoolgirl, but she’s got to keep her wits about her and you can keep her on the straight and narrow.’
‘Mum knows what she’s doing, I think.’
‘Gold-diggers hide in plain sight. In her position, she’s a prime target for that, or someone selling their story to the papers for that matter. If she was to meet a man like John Foster – now, that would be ideal. An independent income, a position of his own to maintain. That’s the kind of man we want.’
‘It doesn’t always work like that though. What people think is unsuitable isn’t always wrong.’
Biddy rolled up her sleeves. ‘More often than not, it is. All I’m saying is that we should be careful for her. We both know the kind of background she comes from, it’s no wonder that she struggles between right and wrong. She doesn’t have it ingrained in the way you and –’
‘Stop,’ Amy snapped then she grimaced at the expression on Biddy’s face. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I didn’t mean to – Wait there. Do not move.’
The pallor of her cheeks was enough to send Amy racing through to the main bathroom for the glyceryl trinitrate spray. She fumbled with the cap on the way back then skidded over the rug beside her bed. Biddy was leaning heavily on her arm, although her brown eyes were alert.
‘Don’t fuss,’ she said.
Amy passed her the spray. ‘I’m not. Two puffs and I’m calling Mum to cancel.’
‘You are not.’
‘I’m not leaving you alone. Two puffs, Biddy, come on.’
She sprayed underneath her tongue and closed her eyes, a series of deep breaths rattling her slight frame. Amy watched, ready to insist on another round, but experience told her they’d forestalled a full-blown attack. She unclenched her fist and sat down on the bed, waiting for the air to settle around them as it did every time.
‘There’s no need to cancel,’ Biddy said eventually. ‘I’ve invited Millicent and Roberta over for supper so I’ll have company. This could be important for your mother, dear. You need to be there.’
‘It’s probabl
y nothing to do with her seeing someone,’ Amy lied.
Biddy tapped a hand on her arm. ‘All the same, you’re going.’
‘Are you planning on telling me what’s wrong or do I have to guess?’
The trees skidded by in a blur. It took a few seconds for Valerie’s words to permeate, and even longer for Amy to drag her eyes across to the driver’s seat.
‘Let’s just get there,’ she said.
‘Well, no, actually,’ Valerie replied. ‘It’s important to me that this evening’s successful. If you don’t feel as though you want to meet Max right now then we can –’
‘Biddy had a mild attack earlier,’ Amy cut in.
Valerie eased off the accelerator. ‘Is she all right?’
‘She says she’s fine.’
‘Do you want to go back? Max won’t mind if we postpone because of Clarice –’
‘No, she insisted I come. I think she’s finally noticed we don’t spend any time together.’
The car juddered as Valerie decelerated further and looked around for somewhere to pull in. Once they were illegally parked across an access road in front of a pair of indifferent sheep, she twisted to face her.
‘Sweetheart, she noticed that a long time ago.’
Amy squinted at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You give her too little credit sometimes. If I was in her position and my only grandchild wanted to spend more time with me than her own mother, I’d be flattered to say the least. I might even be smug about it.’
‘You’re judging her by your standards,’ Amy muttered.
‘Am I? I’d say I’m treating her like a living, breathing human being, something you forget to do on occasion. Anyway, the offer still stands. You don’t have to meet Max tonight if you’re not in the mood. I’d rather we were all at our best when it . . .’
Her voice trailed off into a limp chuckle and Amy shuffled in her seat.
‘You’re scared,’ she said.
Valerie turned her attention to the sheep now snuffling near the bonnet. ‘I’d be a fool if I wasn’t, and you know how I hate fools.’
‘Stop with the riddles, Mum. Just be honest with me – even if it’s only for tonight. It’s not like you’re on the campaign trail and, anyway, I’m not going to vote for you.’
‘That’s a debate for another time. Yes, then, darling, if that’s what you want to hear. I’m scared. I can’t calculate how tonight’s going to play out and I don’t appreciate the uncertainty. For all I know, your big plan may be to waltz in there tonight and tell Max why – why you live with Clarice.’
Amy crossed her arms. ‘Is that seriously your biggest fear? That I’ll go in there and tell her the truth.’
‘I can’t risk that, sweetheart, not yet. I will tell her – I will. But it needs framing properly. I’ve already come close to losing her once this week, I can’t go through that again.’
Her sincerity was unequivocal. No amount of scrutiny was unmasking a lie, and Amy had plenty of practice in that. So, she relaxed her hands onto her lap and nodded towards the sheep.
‘I think if we don’t get going right now, we’ll have a few passengers,’ she said.
Valerie’s eyes flickered. ‘Amy –’
‘I won’t tell her. It’s your place to do that, not mine. And I don’t want to cancel either.’
‘Are you sure?’
Amy rolled her eyes and gestured to the nearest sheep. ‘Okay, I’m calling that one Karl. You get to name the other one. The alternative is that you get back on the road. What are you waiting for?’
The house smelled nice – nice yet different.
Dinner was cooking, so the scent of Valerie’s signature mushroom soup was drifting into the hallway, along with a main course that must’ve had a base in chicken. Amy hesitated in the hallway as Valerie pressed on into the kitchen, trying to identify the source of the unusual smell. Perhaps it was just the pair of scruffy grey trainers stuffed underneath the radiator or the Trespass jacket hanging beside the door.
It wasn’t only the smell of the place that was different. Hairbrush pop was echoing from the kitchen instead of lethargic jazz, and the upstairs lights had been left on. The dining room was visible through the open doors at the other end of the living room with the table already set for three and a jug of water resting on the tablecloth. It was nothing revolutionary, but Amy could still feel herself quivering as she followed Valerie into the kitchen.
She caught them mid-kiss and halted by the breakfast bar.
‘Sorry,’ she said as they separated.
‘I was just congratulating Max on not burning down the kitchen in our absence,’ Valerie replied, throwing a challenging look to her left. ‘It seems stirring mushroom soup is actually one of Max’s skills. She didn’t apply it effectively to tomato soup the other week though. I’m wondering if it’s selective.’
Max snickered and crossed to the fridge. ‘Your mum’s had a bottle of wine cooling. Do you want a glass?’
‘See how she changes the subject?’ Valerie queried.
There was a lump in Amy’s throat that she couldn’t clear away. She attempted a smile then took the glass of wine that Max offered a minute later. It was lucky that Cyndi Lauper was warbling in the corner or the silence would’ve been even more awkward as the three of them just looked at each other. Valerie finally moved to stir the soup, although Max remained motionless with her hands tucked into her pockets and a flush creeping up around her ears that probably had little to do with the warmth of the kitchen.
It was seeing them together that had derailed Amy, just as she’d suspected it might. Even side by side, there was something alien about it that she couldn’t connect in her mind. She was still waiting for the punchline, but that thought disintegrated when Valerie turned back from the stove and glanced at Max with more honest affection than Amy had seen from her in years. The surprise caused the wine glass to slide along her fingers and she quickly put it on the breakfast bar to prevent it crashing to the floor. She winced as both Max and Valerie pivoted towards her.
‘Are you all right?’ questioned Valerie.
Amy shrugged.
‘Come on, you can do better than that. What’s wrong?’
‘This is weird,’ she muttered.
Valerie’s shoulders sagged. ‘Oh.’
‘No, I mean . . .’ She trailed off then met Max’s eye, anxious yet reassuring all in one. ‘Most people, when their parents start dating again, this new person comes in and they have to adjust. But you’re more comfortable here than I am.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ Max said.
‘The house smells more like you than anything to do with me.’
‘Okay, maybe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t tuck my elbows in when I walk into rooms.’
‘That’s right, you know,’ Valerie chipped in. ‘There was an incident with a vase.’
Amy’s lips parted. ‘The one on the landing? I wondered where that went. It was hideous, though, Mum.’
‘That’s what she said,’ replied Valerie, jabbing her thumb towards Max. ‘That’s why I don’t entirely believe it was an accident.’
‘I don’t buy fancy furniture for the same reason I don’t buy a Merc,’ Max said with a lopsided grin. ‘Well, that and I don’t know my arse from my elbow when it comes to it. But, honestly, that thing looked like a kid had chucked up on it.’
Valerie was unsuccessfully stifling her smile. ‘That’s a world-renowned artist you’re criticising there.’
‘You’re on my side, right, Amy?’
She laughed. ‘Oh, yeah. If you feel your elbows knocking near that porcelain monstrosity in the main bathroom, I’ll buy you a coffee or something.’
‘A coffee?’ Valerie repeated. ‘Is that the going rate for destroying unique pieces of my furniture these days?’
‘No, you’re right, that’s too much,’ Amy retorted.
‘That’s not how haggling works,’ said Max, pointing a finger at Valerie. ‘Didn’t rec
kon you were teaching her to be rude.’
Valerie rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I must make sure she’s more polite when she goes around committing acts of vandalism and destruction.’
‘Commissioning them,’ Amy corrected.
‘You spent far too long listening to your father’s legal arguments.’
The reference to Tim landed awkwardly around them all. Amy checked first to see if Max was unsettled, but she just leaned her hip against the countertop and looked at Valerie with that same affection she’d seen operating the other way. Then she shook herself and returned her gaze to Amy.
‘There are two bits of the house I haven’t seen,’ she said.
Amy exchanged a glance with Valerie. ‘Right . . .’
‘Your room and your dad’s study,’ Max explained as she straightened up. ‘It didn’t feel right even putting my head through the door so I said to your mum I’d wait until you wanted to show me. No pressure, I’m just saying. When I was a teenager, I would’ve kicked off if strangers had started going through my stuff like they had the right.’
‘Thank you,’ Amy said.
Max shrugged. ‘So, what sort of films are you –’
‘Come see the study,’ she interrupted. ‘How long have we got, Mum?’
‘Oh, about twenty minutes if you prefer your potatoes cooked,’ she replied.
‘That was once,’ Max returned on her way across the kitchen.
Amy smirked then motioned for Max to follow her. The smell as they passed through the hallway was more familiar now, and the lights gleaming on the landing were a welcoming sight.
‘Mum’s normally really pedantic about switching lights off,’ she said.
‘Really? She’s never let on. It’s not that I’m against the environment or anything like that, only . . . It’s nicer, having a light on in the house to say that there’s someone waiting. Then you switch it off after. My aunt was all like that, though it was probably half to do with the dodgy gin she was getting from the café down the road. Giving them signals to drop it off.’