Valerie

by Kit Eyre

  ‘I’m not planning on keeping it from her indefinitely, if that’s what you’re asking. However, I happen to think she’ll understand. We’ve already experienced so many little hiccups and we keep getting through them. None of us are going to jeopardise what we’ve got as a family. Are we?’

  ‘No, but I don’t think it’s that –’

  ‘Look at you two hiding in here,’ Biddy interrupted. ‘Why aren’t you enjoying yourselves?’

  Amy jolted, spilling orange juice onto her sleeve. She hadn’t noticed Biddy wander in clutching a cocktail glass in one hand and a piece of shortbread in the other. She leaned towards the glass and sniffed.

  ‘What’s this?’ she questioned.

  ‘I haven’t the foggiest. Something young Paul mixed for me. He’s quite a whizz.’

  ‘Biddy, how much have you had to drink?’

  She clicked her tongue. ‘Oh, it’s Christmas.’

  ‘You won’t live to New Year at this rate. Please stop drinking so much. You know what the doctor said about that.’

  One of the cousins – Geoff, Amy thought – materialised from a corner and tucked an arm around Biddy’s waist. ‘You wouldn’t begrudge her a few drinks on Christmas Day. She’s fine, aren’t you, Aunt Clarice?’

  Amy opened her mouth but was checked by an elbow into her ribs. Under the guise of sipping her wine, Valerie had successfully silenced her long enough for Geoff to steer Biddy away towards the conservatory. Amy watched them go then kicked her heel back against the cabinet.

  ‘They wouldn’t mind if she dropped dead tomorrow. I’m just the killjoy granddaughter.’

  Valerie rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Steady, sweetheart. I know you care, but this isn’t the way.’

  ‘Yeah, I care – they don’t. You know, they think I live here because it’s closer to college; you think I live here because of you –’

  ‘I know it’s not only that,’ Valerie interjected.

  ‘I’m here because she needs me. She’s lost Dad and she needs me. What’s it going to be like when I go to uni? She’ll be isolated, she’ll have an accident or she’ll have to go into a home –’

  ‘Darling, calm down. Have another drink.’

  The direction of Valerie’s gaze warned her that people were staring. Usually, Amy would’ve assumed Valerie’s concern was for herself, but not in this crowd. She lowered her chin and waited for the flush to drain from her cheeks, aware of Valerie’s elbow heavy against her arm. It was working to calm her when a collective gasp from the conservatory hit her like a bolt of ice.

  Both she and Valerie abandoned their glasses and jostled their way through the throng. Biddy was crumpled up against the wicker sofa, everyone gawping and no one doing anything. Geoff had rocked back on his heels, as though he could lean far enough away to make the problem vanish from his orbit.

  Amy pushed past him. ‘Move. Get out of the way.’

  ‘Everyone,’ Valerie called, ‘I think it’s best if we call it a night. It’s late and you’ve got these children to be getting home so, if you don’t mind . . .’

  They shuffled around collecting their things, but Amy was too focused on scrabbling in Biddy’s handbag for her travel spray to pay them much attention. She pressed the tube into Biddy’s hands and allowed her to administer the first spray on her own, whilst wondering whether Valerie was sober enough to drive them to the General rather than risk a wait for an ambulance. The roar of whispers faded away and she studied the creases around Biddy’s eyes.

  ‘Another spray?’ she asked.

  She was grateful when Biddy acquiesced without complaint, and the knot in her stomach loosened as she saw it take effect. The touch of a hand on her shoulder made her flinch, but Valerie was gazing down at her with a compassionate smile.

  ‘Why don’t you get some water?’ she suggested.

  Although Amy nodded, her legs trembled when she tried to stand. Valerie hauled her up then pressed her towards the kitchen with a nudge into the small of her back. The silence of the house rang in her ears as she leaned against the worktop and closed her eyes. All she could smell were the pickled onions from the buffet table that tickled her nostrils and throat, threatening to make its way further and empty her stomach.

  ‘Amy? She’s fine, the second spray worked a treat.’

  She clenched her jaw, unable to straighten her spine and turn around.

  ‘Sweetheart, it’s okay,’ Valerie repeated.

  Every muscle in her body seemed to sag. She used the worktop to lever herself around to face Valerie, willing the tears to stay trapped in her eyes. They didn’t, but the avalanche along her cheeks prompted no movement from Valerie. Amy squinted through the blur and recognised the fear colouring her expression, even as her hands worked themselves into a frenzy.

  ‘Mum . . .’ she whispered.

  Valerie swept forward and wrapped her up in her arms. ‘It’s okay, I’ve got you.’

  Chapter 21

  Come February, Max was spending most nights cocooned over at Valerie’s, whether that was on her own or not. Now they were on the wrong side of Christmas, the election was taking up every minute Valerie had, including stopovers in places Max wouldn’t have been able to find on a map if her life depended on it. That meant they spent less time with Amy, who was round at Clarice’s more since her last scare, though they still kept in touch through the week for coffees and whatnot.

  The last Saturday of the month was another cold one. Max was sat in the kitchen at Geith Place warming her hands round a cup when the door went earlier than she’d expected. She looked up as Amy walked in with her rucksack weighing down her shoulders.

  ‘Wasn’t expecting you,’ Max said.

  Amy hovered near the door. ‘I needed a break. Isn’t Mum back?’

  ‘Shouldn’t be too long. You want a drink?’

  ‘I’ve got work to do. I’ll be back down in a while.’

  Max watched her out into the hallway, noticing the way her legs didn’t altogether lift from the floor until she had to start climbing the stairs. The steps thumped through the house then finished off with a door slamming shut. From the sound of it, she’d gone into the study and not her bedroom, not that Max had ever disturbed her in either.

  Valerie came back in her usual whirlwind and launched into a conversation before Max had even stood up from the table.

  ‘Sorry, I know I’m late. The train down from Newcastle was delayed at York – again. But it was a fantastic day, we definitely won a few votes. There was the old man who hadn’t met a canvasser in years, let alone a candidate. I think he’s friends with everyone in the damn area! I brought Chinese –’

  ‘Amy’s here,’ Max interrupted and Valerie’s smile widened.

  ‘Is she? That’s brilliant, there’s enough to go around. You know me and Chinese. Why don’t you call her down and I’ll get the plates?’

  Since she was halfway to the cupboard already, Max didn’t have chance to argue. She only got a curt response from Amy when she tried shouting her, and they were polishing off their share of the spring rolls before she made an appearance. Valerie hadn’t stopped talking about what she’d been up to till then, but she trailed off when she saw Amy’s face.

  ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ she asked.

  ‘Busy, that’s all,’ Amy muttered.

  Valerie nudged the platter towards her. ‘Here, we saved you some. You’re allowed a night off, you know. With all the work you put in, you deserve it.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she replied as she took two pieces of prawn toast.

  The way she lowered her chin warned them both that conversation was off the table. Whereas every other night, Valerie would fill any silence with talk about the election, she held off tonight. Max saw her shooting Amy looks, as if what was wrong with her could be enticed out with chicken fried rice. It didn’t happen, and they were almost done before any of them spoke again.

  ‘You know, darling,’ Valerie said suddenly, ‘I was talking about you today.
’

  Amy glanced up sharply. ‘You were?’

  ‘Well, the business meeting this morning was held at Northumbria and quite a few of the faculty attended. I told them what your plans were and how exciting it was that you were so keen to follow in your father’s footsteps.’

  ‘You didn’t think it was exciting before,’ Amy said.

  Valerie shrugged and reached for her wine. ‘We’ve got beyond that, haven’t we? You’ve decided what you want to do and I’ve accepted it.’

  ‘And now you’re using it for political gain.’

  ‘What? No, of course not. I’m saying I’m proud of –’

  Amy snickered. ‘Right, yeah. You’re proud now, when it suits you.’

  ‘That isn’t how –’

  ‘Forget it,’ she snapped.

  Without giving them another look, she grabbed her wine glass and stamped across the room. Only when she’d gone all the way upstairs and the door had slammed again did Valerie finally turn to Max, her forehead creased.

  ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like that,’ she murmured.

  ‘She seemed a bit off when she got in. I’m not sure it was you she was having a go at.’

  ‘Did she say why she was here? I’m delighted to see her, obviously, but she hasn’t wanted to spend a night away from Clarice since Christmas.’

  Max stood and began stacking the plates together. ‘Yeah, I wondered that. I reckon she needed away from her for the night. How’d they seem on Thursday?’

  ‘The same.’ Valerie paused and rested her chin in her palm. ‘Clarice was perhaps more demanding, I don’t know. I find it difficult to judge. I know so little about their relationship when I’m not there and Amy’s still inclined to put on a mask for me, even after Christmas.’

  ‘That was a step in the right direction though,’ Max pointed out.

  ‘I’d thought so, but apparently not.’

  Valerie let out a low growl then jumped up and started collecting the plates herself. Max fell back, watching her harsh movements, until a nod told her to gather up the rest and follow her through to the kitchen. It was colder in here than it had been for a while, not that Valerie seemed to notice. Once she’d dumped her load on the counter, she spun around and paced past the breakfast bar.

  ‘I can’t have this right now,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Max asked.

  ‘That attitude, it’s dangerous.’

  ‘She’s just having an off night, that’s all.’

  Valerie shook her head. ‘It may start out that way, but these things escalate with Amy. I can’t afford any form of bad – anything that might rock the boat this close to the election. I just can’t.’

  ‘Then talk to her,’ Max said.

  ‘Oh, I can’t. That’ll just inflame the situation.’

  ‘I don’t get it. You’ve been doing so much better, the two of you. Go upstairs, just talk to her like you have been doing.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Valerie repeated.

  As if that was it, she walked out of the kitchen. Max assumed she was just going to the loo or something, but then the front door slammed. She stood still for a good minute with the house settling around her, not knowing what was going on. Then a flurry of steps on the stairs ended with Amy bursting into the kitchen, fists clenched at her sides. Her hands relaxed when she caught sight of her, not that Max was any less confused for that.

  ‘What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  Amy took a step back. ‘I thought you’d gone, that’s all. I heard the door.’

  ‘Yeah, your mum went – she went for a walk. She doesn’t know what’s going on with you, she’s worried.’

  ‘About herself, sure.’

  ‘That’s not how it is,’ Max answered.

  ‘So, why has she gone out? Why isn’t she chasing me upstairs asking me why I’m upset?’

  Short of fudging it, Max didn’t know what to say. She let the silence do the talking then grimaced as tears welled up in Amy’s eyes. The kitchen roll was closer to her, so she pulled off three strips and passed them across. Amy muttered her thanks and dabbed at her face. It didn’t seem to be doing much good from what Max could see – even if tears weren’t streaming down her cheeks, they were still absorbing into the kitchen roll faster than it could take. She went through three dollops of it like that, until Max cleared her throat.

  ‘Whatever it is that’s going on, you can tell me. Or your mum, if that’s what you want.’

  Amy sniggered through the tissue. ‘Yeah, that’ll work really well.’

  ‘I know she’s busy –’

  ‘Too busy to give a damn,’ Amy interrupted.

  ‘That’s not how it is.’

  ‘So, where is she?’ Amy demanded.

  Max shifted her weight and looked around the kitchen. The plates needed packing into the dishwasher, which was something practical she could do. She took a step forward then faltered and glanced back to Amy.

  ‘You came back here tonight to talk to her about something, didn’t you?’ she asked.

  Amy just shrugged.

  ‘Is it your gran?’

  ‘Biddy’s fine,’ she muttered.

  ‘Okay, what about Ed, then?’

  From the flush that settled on Amy’s cheeks, Max thought she might’ve struck oil, but that success was smothered under the prospect of talking to her girlfriend’s daughter about her love life. Maybe Amy saw how hesitant she was. She rolled up the tissues still clenched in her hand and dumped them in the bin on her way past.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Max questioned.

  Amy spun around on the threshold. ‘Once she’s got something in her head, that’s it. Nothing else matters as long as she gets what she wants. I’m not stupid enough to get in her way. I wouldn’t risk it either, if I were you.’

  The dishwasher was long since finished before the front door went again.

  Max was lying on the sofa swilling around the dregs of her third glass of wine when Valerie appeared in the doorway. She hadn’t taken a coat out with her so there was a tinge to her face, as if she’d been coated in blue rinse. Max wound her legs round onto the floor, but stayed rooted to the cushion, waiting to see whether Valerie would stay put or walk through into the kitchen.

  ‘I needed to clear my head,’ Valerie explained after a moment.

  ‘You could’ve said, not just walked out.’

  ‘Because you always behave that maturely, don’t you?’ Valerie retorted.

  ‘That’s not fair. I’m still here now you’ve come back. I could easily have gone – Amy reckoned I had. She ran down here like a bullet when she heard the door go, in case it was me leaving.’

  Valerie blew into her palms. ‘I take it she hasn’t finished with the histrionics then.’

  ‘She’s a kid,’ Max argued, standing up. ‘I know she acts like she’s got it all worked out, but she’s eighteen, that’s all. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing at her age, and I wasn’t looking after an old woman either. There’s something going on –’

  ‘In which case, she needs to tell me,’ Valerie interrupted.

  ‘That’s what her being here tonight was all about.’

  ‘Well, that worked, didn’t it? I haven’t got time to decode everything, I can’t physically do it. Just for the next three months, the two of you need to be straight with me.’

  Max crossed her arms. ‘It’s not always as neat as that.’

  ‘For now, it has to be.’

  With that, Valerie stormed off towards the kitchen. Max listened for a minute, heard the cupboard open and shut then slowly followed her through. She found her at the patio window, staring into the darkness of the back garden, a whisky glass clasped in her hand. She’d heard her come in, or maybe seen her in the window, but she didn’t turn around as she carried on the conversation.

  ‘Days like today remind me why I’m doing this. Yes, I’ll concede it started as something to throw myself into, to rid myself of gr
ief, but it’s beyond that now. I had nothing to lose when I was first chosen to be the candidate, you know. That’s the reason they allowed me as much rope as I had at the beginning. It looked good for the local party to select a woman, especially since they’ve got such a poor track record regionally. But the landscape shifted – I helped with that. Before, if I didn’t win, they were just going to chalk it up to Labour safe seat syndrome. But now . . . If we don’t win the seat, I’ll be the one who lost it.’

  Max scraped her hand through her hair. ‘I get that. So does Amy.’

  ‘Then, please, let it play out. I need to win this, Max, I really do. It feels like the only tangible thing I’ll ever have accomplished if I manage it.’

  ‘Doesn’t Amy count?’ Max questioned.

  Valerie turned around, her forehead creased. ‘Now, I didn’t mean that. But Amy was good luck rather than good management. This is something I have control over, and I’m damned if I’m going to fail now because I’ve taken my eye off the ball. Three more months, Max. That’s all. Can’t we hold it together until then?’

  Her fingers were trembling around the glass, Max noticed. She crossed over and took it from her hand then rested her chin against Valerie’s head. It was a moment before she gave in and wrapped her arms around her waist. Then Max kissed her hair and caught her own reflection in the patio window.

  ‘Yeah,’ she murmured finally, ‘course we can.’

  Chapter 22

  The rain overnight had left the pavements puckered with patches of ice. For the most part, Amy dodged them as she trudged through the deserted streets, but she tested her heel on a few and felt it slip away from her. She always snatched it away right before propulsion took hold, although the instant just beforehand was tantalising. Knowing you were going to fall and it could be out of your control was one way of giving over to nature. Sometimes, human beings thought they could beat it at its own game; jump up again and carry on with the match. Then something like cancer came along and proved them wrong – the heel slipped and there was no stopping the slide or where it took you.