by Kit Eyre
The words wedged in the air then Amy slid the dishwasher tray back with a click. She moved to rinse her hands and reached for the towel, trying to keep her gaze from Valerie. By the time she replaced the towel on the hook, she’d expected the mask to be back on, but there were still cracks in it.
Amy cleared her throat. ‘Thanks for dinner. I’ll text you during the week.’
‘Please do,’ Valerie murmured. ‘And send – send Clarice my love, will you?’
‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Night, Mum.’
Her first instinct when Asif asked where she wanted to go was to say the cab office.
Max had her head buried in a book when she arrived, showering the pages with crumbs from a pile of custard creams on the desk beside her. She glanced up then turned down a corner.
‘You look all dolled up,’ she said.
Amy exhaled. ‘Dinner party.’
‘What, with Clarice?’
‘No. Mum tricked me into a meal with him. Honestly, Max, he makes Drew look like a gentleman when he eats. It’s almost like he uses up his manners with important people and then wastes the . . . Sorry, you don’t want to hear this.’
Max shrugged and toyed with the edge of a custard cream. ‘How does he treat her?’
‘Don’t,’ Amy murmured.
‘I’m only asking. How he treats her dictates how he treats you.’
‘Yeah, but that’s not why you’re asking.’
‘I’m not like Drew,’ Max answered after a moment. ‘I can’t wish her pain.’
Amy rested her arms on the divide, pressing her nose against the glass. ‘That’s one side of it. But you don’t have to wish her happiness either.’
Chapter 35
A hot summer brought a lull in trade and Max split switchboard duties between Amy and herself. She was stuck in the office on the hottest day of the year when Drew came in late morning with a sheepish expression on his face. The last time she’d seen him with that look, he’d dropped a doughnut down the toilet and was trying to fish it out with a screwdriver.
He nudged the door shut and leaned against the wall. ‘Hiya.’
‘You’re not on for a couple of hours,’ Max said. ‘Elena kick you out again?’
‘No, she sent me.’
‘Why? What’s going on?’
‘If it was down to me . . .’ He trailed off and scratched his beard. ‘No, actually, I would tell you. Better you hear it from us.’
Max slid the headset onto her neck. ‘Hear what?’
‘Take it no one’s left a local today yet?’
‘No, not yet. Come on, Drew, what is it?’
He tugged a crumpled newspaper out of his back pocket, drumming it against his leg for a few seconds. Then he chucked it across at her and it landed skewwhiff on the switchboard.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled.
Every muscle in her body contracted at once. It wasn’t so much the headline – ‘MPs to Wed’ – as much as the picture of Valerie showing off her engagement ring next to a smirking Foster. All the words swam in front of Max’s eyes until she finally just screwed the whole paper up and launched it towards the bin. It caught the rim and bounced back along the carpet like a potato.
‘You all right?’ Drew questioned.
She pressed her knees together. ‘Thanks for the heads up.’
‘Does Amy know, do you reckon?’
‘No, no chance. She’s a good kid. She wouldn’t have wanted me blindsided, she’d have told me.’
Her stomach liquified as she raised her eyes to Drew’s.
‘Which means she doesn’t know. I’ve got to get to her.’
‘Hang on, the paper’s been out for a few hours. She probably knows by now.’
Max ripped the headset off and looked around for her keys. ‘She’s at her gran’s. They’re in a different area, they don’t get the paper delivered. The first she’ll know about it is when someone calls her gran. I need to get round there.’
‘Go on,’ Drew said, yanking the door open before she reached it. ‘I’ll cover the switch.’
This was the first time Max had gone all the way up to the house, though she’d been back and forth so much that she made the journey practically on autopilot. It was only when she crunched over the gravel in the driveway that her nerves caught up with her and she hesitated. The thought of Amy hearing the news from someone else spurred her on and she forced herself out of the cab.
Amy was stretched across a tartan blanket on the front lawn with her earphones in and a book under her nose. Next to her, in a chair shaded by a brolly, Clarice had her eyes shut. Max’s shadow fell across Amy’s book before she noticed her and tugged her earphones out.
‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered.
Max motioned her away. ‘I need a minute.’
She glanced first to Clarice to check she was still asleep then she gestured to the house. The difference to Geith Place was obvious from the second you got over the threshold, with walls and shelves littered with memories. Max followed Amy into the kitchen and took the glass of lemonade pressed into her hands. She downed it in one go and felt the tickle on her tongue.
‘Have you seen the local paper today?’ she asked finally.
Amy shook her head. ‘Not yours, no. Wait, it’s Mum’s column today, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, that’s right.’
‘What she said, Max? What has she done?’
Max scrubbed at her throat, trying to force the words up. ‘The column got wiped out. I’m sorry, they got engaged.’
For a moment, Amy just seemed to waver on the spot then she crumbled. All the blood drained from her cheeks as she groped for the worktop. Max made to grab her before she fell, only Amy flinched away. It took a minute for her to recognise the response as one of Valerie’s, with Amy just trying to keep a lid on everything going through her head.
‘And she announced it in the paper?’ Amy questioned.
Max nodded. ‘Figured she hadn’t told you, otherwise you’d have told me.’
‘But you came here to make sure I know she’s marrying the man she cheated on you with.’
‘Couldn’t let you walk into it blind.’
‘You could’ve, but you wouldn’t. Thank you,’ Amy said.
She managed a shrug then averted her gaze while Amy put herself back together. The kitchen had all the mod cons of Geith Place, only without the chrome sparkling everywhere. Valerie went in for comfort so long as it was stylish, whereas this place had mismatched lamps on the windowsill and a National Trust tea towel flung over a chair.
‘Are you okay?’ Amy questioned and she tried to smile.
‘It’s nice here, that’s all. I’d better get going before your gran wakes up.’
Amy’s eyes widened. ‘Oh, my God, I have to tell her, don’t I? She’ll be delighted. She thinks he’s this high-flying minister, but he’s just a drunken –’
‘You don’t have to tell her, it’s not down to you.’
‘So, what? I wait until she reads it in the paper?’
‘I don’t know,’ Max admitted, ‘but it’s not your responsibility. Let your mum do what she’s meant to for once. Stay out of it.’
‘I was trying to before you came along,’ Amy murmured.
Max grimaced, stretching out a hand then thinking better of it. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘No, I know.’
Amy bit on her lip and edged forward. Max exhaled, opening her arms and squeezing hard when Amy stepped into them. She felt better for a second, as if it was what they both needed.
‘Who are you?’ a voice demanded suddenly.
Max spun around as Amy jolted away and wiped her eyes. Clarice was blocking the doorway more effectively than an old woman with angina should’ve been able to. The only sign she wasn’t well came in the creases on her face, emphasised by her frown right this minute.
Clarice crossed her arms. ‘I asked you a question. Who are you and what are you
doing touching my granddaughter like that?’
‘Biddy!’ Amy said.
‘No, don’t try and defend yourself. If it wasn’t bad enough bringing home that man with more hair than a gorilla –’
‘This is Max,’ she interrupted. ‘One of my bosses at the taxi firm, remember?’
Even though Clarice’s mouth snapped shut, the suspicion in her eyes didn’t fade. It had been a while since Max had faced anything outright like this. There was the occasional loud-mouthed arse on a drunken night out, but that was just part of the job and it was mainly banter. This was visceral homophobia, the kind you grew up with and never grew out of.
‘I’m sorry for intruding, Mrs Smythe,’ Max said with a sidelong look at Amy.
‘I assumed you were a man,’ Clarice replied. ‘I was never given any indication otherwise.’
‘Well, I’m not keen on my full name, that’s all.’
‘Oh? What is it?’
She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right. ‘Maxine.’
‘That’s a lovely name for a woman,’ Clarice said.
Amy looked like she wanted a hole to swallow her up. Max knew how she felt. The silence stretched between the three of them until Amy stepped forward and cleared her throat.
‘Biddy, Max reminded me I’m meant to be working this afternoon. I agreed to cover a shift.’
‘I really don’t see the need for this job, you know. It’s not going to help you when you get to Durham, another internship would’ve been much more useful.’
‘We’ve been through this,’ Amy said.
‘Yes, and I still don’t understand. Your father would’ve been mortified –’
‘He would’ve encouraged it. He always appreciated people trying to make their own way in the world and earning their own money. Anyway, it doesn’t make a difference to the fact I have a shift to get to.’
Clarice turned away, brushing her fingers against the tiled wall. ‘Fine.’
With that, she stalked out of the kitchen. A door slammed a few seconds later and rattled the plates in the dresser.
‘You’re right,’ Amy said.
Max glanced over. ‘Am I?’
‘This is Mum’s mess so let her deal with it. But I do need to get out of here before that happens, and I’ve just lied to Biddy that I’ve got to go.’
‘So, where am I taking you then?’ Max asked.
Amy tilted her head to the side. ‘How about the pub?’
‘Have you two been out boozing it up while I’m sat here working my arse off?’
Max steadied Amy through the doorway before Drew jumped up to catch her. ‘Sat on your arse, more like. Besides, I’m the designated driver.’
‘Getting pissed without me’s not on,’ he said as he clicked his fingers in front of Amy’s face. ‘You need coffee, yeah?’
She just blinked at him.
‘Make us all one,’ Max said.
Drew snorted on his way to the kettle. ‘Bit of a lightweight, isn’t she?’
Amy blew a raspberry at him and Max steered her over to the sofa.
‘I’ve gotta sober you up. I can’t send you back to your gran’s like this, she hates me enough as it is.’
Once she was safely sat down, Amy kicked her heels together until Drew handed her a coffee and a ginger nut. She checked the biscuit for fluff before taking a bite, earning a chuckle from Drew. He settled back over on the switchboard and Max watched Amy from the other end of the sofa. It hadn’t been the plan to get her drunk, but she hadn’t wanted to talk about Valerie sober and then, by the time she’d had a few, she didn’t want to talk about her drunk either. Max waited until the coffee had a chance to hit before she coughed.
‘Ready yet?’ she asked.
‘I don’t understand her,’ Amy muttered.
‘That’s because you’re a normal human being, not like her,’ Drew replied.
‘Not helpful,’ Max said.
Amy hugged her mug to her chest. ‘No, he’s right. I think she’s lost it. They’ve only been dating a couple of months.’
‘If you believe her,’ said Drew.
‘Still not helpful,’ Max warned him.
He shrugged. ‘Just telling it like it is.’
‘I don’t understand her,’ Amy repeated in a whisper.
Max ground her shoes into the carpet. ‘Maybe she loves him.’
‘No,’ Amy said immediately. ‘Trust me, she doesn’t.’
‘Then it’s the job, isn’t it?’ Drew said as he wiped a ginger nut on his collar. ‘Power couple and all that crap. Wait till she gets a promotion over him one day. It’ll be handbags at dawn. You’re well out of it, the pair of you.’
Amy sighed and took another sip of her coffee. A call came through that at least distracted Drew from chomping on his pile of biscuits for thirty seconds, but then the silence settled over the office again. It was similar to how it’d been in Clarice’s kitchen, although Max didn’t feel any hesitation this time about budging up and wrapping an arm around Amy’s shoulder. Drew shot them a funny look, but she didn’t give a toss.
‘Max, what is she doing?’ Amy asked.
‘Whatever it is, there’s nothing you can do,’ she answered.
‘I need to do something. She needs to know she can’t do this and expect to get away with it.’
Drew coughed from across the room. ‘You could spill it, couldn’t you? Go to the papers, tell them your mum was practically shacked up with a woman for the best part of a year and that this traditional family crap is a load of hypocritical bollocks.’
‘You’ve had some stupid ideas in your time, but that beats the lot,’ Max said.
‘What? It’d what I’d do.’
‘Yeah, because that’s a recommendation. If she winds –’
Amy stood up, wobbling like jelly. ‘I want Dad’s things. I want his pens, his cufflinks. I want everything she thinks she could get rid of and it wouldn’t matter. Even if she’s there – especially if she is – I want to take them. They’re mine.’
‘It’s not the last chance you’ll get,’ Max said.
‘You don’t know that. She won’t stay there, will she? Not when she can move into his mansion and have a wing to herself. It’ll all go. I want to get it, I want to get it now.’
Max rubbed her neck. ‘All right. Well, I’ll take you.’
‘No,’ said Amy and Drew in unison.
‘Foster might be there,’ Amy added. ‘It’s not fair on you.’
‘Yeah, I’ll take her,’ Drew said.
‘No way,’ Max replied, ‘you’re not getting in a scrap with her either. Raj is in the yard, he’ll take you.’
Amy leaned down and hugged her. ‘Thank you.’
‘Call the switch when you’re done and we’ll get someone down,’ she said as she opened the door. Once it had shut, she closed her eyes against Drew’s stare. ‘Don’t. Just don’t.’
Chapter 36
If she did this in stages, she’d get through it.
Amy opened the door, kicked off her shoes and went straight upstairs. She veered into Tim’s study and halted on the threshold, looking at the book spines glimmering under the fading sunlight. In the future she’d anticipated, all of those would’ve been coming with her to Durham and she would’ve honoured Tim every day by using them. It was only thanks to Max and Ed that she was coming around to the idea that he really wouldn’t have been disappointed by her change in plans.
A door opened downstairs and spurred her over the threshold. She began emptying the desk drawers, pulling out Montblanc pens and unused moleskin notebooks. Everything in here looked the same as the day after he’d died, with the circular photo frame showing the two of them together still stuffed behind an old diary. Amy’s fingertips lingered on the glass until a voice startled her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
She clenched one fist out of sight and used the other to continue rooting through the drawer. Then a hand grasped her wrist.
‘I asked you a question,’ Valerie said.
Amy shook her off. ‘Taking what’s mine. The things Dad wanted me to have before you turned into the Merry Widow.’
‘You’re not yourself. Wait, have you been drinking?’
‘Yes, Mum, well spotted. Wow, with those powers of observation, you could work for MI5. Yes, I’ve been drinking. Would you like to hazard a guess at why that is?’
Valerie’s lip trembled, just for a second. ‘I – I couldn’t think of a way to tell you without causing an argument.’
‘Oh, I bet. So, instead, you chickened out, thought you’d let me read about it in the paper of all things. What kind of mother does that?’
‘John wanted to –’
‘I don’t particularly care what John wants. Anyway, I didn’t read about it in the paper. Max saw it first and rushed round to Biddy’s to let me know. She thought I had the right to hear it from a human being, even if you didn’t.’
Something flashed across Valerie’s face then vanished before Amy could pinpoint what it was. She took a step away, running the tip of her ring finger along the mottled spines of the books until she reached the end of the row. The expression on her face when she turned back was impassive.
‘That explains the voicemail I received from Clarice. She congratulated me on my engagement then suggested she was concerned about your choice of friends. I assumed she meant Ed but, no, you’ve been with Max and she had the temerity to get you drunk.’
Amy let out a snort. ‘Don’t start down that track. I mean, does that make you feel better? Standing there all high and mighty because your ex took me out for a drink. She wouldn’t have had to if you’d had the guts to pick up the phone.’
‘That’s not the point –’
‘She cares about me,’ Amy interrupted. ‘More than can be said for you.’
‘Well, that’s patently untrue.’
‘Really?’ she shot back, crossing her arms. ‘Okay, how else would you spin it? Come on, Mum, be a politician. How would you spin it? Your phone ran out of battery and you couldn’t find my number to call me from John’s. Maybe you were hit over the head with a jack handle and you’ve got selective amnesia. That must be it – you forgot I existed. It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?’