by Jenni Keer
‘I promise to take good care of them,’ Maisie said.
‘Mind you do, young lady, because what you don’t understand is it’s irrelevant who owns the set – the key is it shouldn’t be split. Mother paid no attention to Gamma’s wishes and now it’s too late. The damage was done to the Mayhews a long time ago.’
As Essie’s cups and saucers, undamaged and unblemished, stood on her draining rack Maisie noticed, for the first time, a tiny black mark on the bottom of one of the saucers. She peered closer. It was a symbol or letter of some kind, so she turned over all the cups, including the ones on her shelf, and realised they also had similar, but not identical, symbols on the bottom. If they were a maker’s mark, surely they would match? Perhaps it was a batch number or something. Did china even have batch numbers?
Maisie horseshoed six cups around the teapot and stood back with a satisfied sigh. The doorbell buzzed and she skipped down the hall to see who it was, not expecting anyone, but always happy to receive guests. Quite frankly, not even a three-month written warning could have prepared her for the sight that greeted her when she swung back her glossy Oxford blue front door. Because there on the doorstep stood her parents.
Together.
Chapter 25
There were no weapons of mass destruction, no obvious hostage situation and no UN peacekeeper hovering in the background ready to take down the first aggressor. In fact, both parents were smiling; her mum still with the name badge pinned to her bosom from her last shift and her dad, as ever, dripping charm and charisma like a melting ice cream in the hot summer sun.
‘Surprise,’ they chorused.
Hashtag massiveunderstatement. She couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d opened the door to Meredith – and she was dead. Maisie stood in silence, unable to articulate anything coherent, as she waited for the catch.
‘Aren’t you going to let us in, love?’ her dad asked, arms across his chest and rubbing fiercely at his bare upper arms. ‘It’s a bit nippy out here and we didn’t want to freak you out by letting ourselves in the back.’
Still silent, she headed towards the kitchen, allowing her parents to follow.
‘Now, don’t be getting too excited,’ her mother gabbled, as she followed her daughter into the kitchen. ‘We’re not a couple or anything, but I thought it was time to bury the hatchet, and this time not in his head, like I’ve been threatening to do these past few years.’ She tossed her coat over the back of a kitchen chair and Maisie resisted the urge to pick it up and hang it on a coat hook in the hall. How hard was it to put things in their proper place? She’d walked right past the hooks, for goodness’ sake. Her mother pulled the chair out and slipped into it, as Maisie’s dad stood behind his ex-wife in an unnervingly protective way. She was hardly the threat here.
‘We bumped into each other by the mere …’ he began.
‘Quite literally.’ Her mum gave a girly giggle that wasn’t age-appropriate as Maisie still struggled to find any words for the astonishing situation. Instead, she slid into the empty pine kitchen chair – Verity’s tea set catching her eye as she did so.
‘Your mum was reversing a lady up the low steps in a wheelchair and I was hurrying down, glued to my iPhone, and we collided. Luckily the little old dear didn’t roll out and into the water …’
‘And he was so kind and charming that he quite won her over. And then he manoeuvred the wheelchair to the bottom for me – which was hysterical because I was actually trying to get her to the top – but he did it in such a chivalrous manner that I couldn’t bring myself to be cross,’ added her mum, continuing this game of verbal ping-pong.
‘So we stood there chatting and giggling like a couple of loons and it felt like we’d been transported back in time.’ Her dad looked down at his ex-wife, his eyes glued to her soppy face.
‘And then we both stopped, didn’t we, David?’ He nodded. ‘And there was this moment of silence, and I said, “It’s lovely having our Zoe back. Family is important,” and he said, “Bev, despite the cock-ups I’ve made in my life, I do consider my family as my one great success.” We both smiled, acknowledging that truth if nothing else. And then he asked if I wanted to grab a quick drink after my shift. We’ve been sitting in the Tattlesham Arms for three hours. I don’t know where the time went.’
No wonder they both looked so rosy-cheeked if they’d been necking alcohol since mid-afternoon.
‘We’ve talked some things through and decided no recriminations, no point-scoring. We’re grown-ups. We can do this.’ Her dad’s hand gently squeezed his ex-wife’s shoulder and she put her hand up to enclose his.
‘Life’s too short to bear grudges. I should know, I witness the regrets of the elderly all the time at work when they realise it’s too late to rectify the wrongs of the past. I don’t want to die a bitter old woman.’
And this from the lady who wanted to sprinkle grass seed over his carpets when he took his first post-divorce holiday, but the house had a security alarm. Maisie was bemused.
‘We wanted you to be the first to know we’ve built our bridges. What do you think, love?’ her dad finished.
Two heads looked across at Maisie expectantly. There was a long pause. Not one word had passed her lips since she’d opened the door and she was still amazed her parents were in the same room and both were breathing. Of course the bridges were impressive – they’d have to be nothing short of miraculous to traverse the violent and stormy waters that had rampaged down the valley between them. She knew her mum had even written instructions in her will forbidding her ex-husband to attend her funeral. The bitterness had curdled, and turned ever more sour – at least on her mother’s part. (To be fair, her dad had always been relatively philosophical about his ex-wife’s revenge campaign.) And now they were in her kitchen looking like two tipsy teenagers on a first date – whatever protestations of mere friendship came from their lips.
‘Tea anyone?’ Maisie finally found her voice, as her mum gave a giggly hiccup. ‘Or really strong coffee?’
‘Tell me about it,’ Zoe huffed. ‘They sat in the flat giggling like schoolkids.’ She bent down to pick up two turquoise, four-kilo dumbbells – one for each hand – and began a series of bicep curls as she listened to Maisie retelling the recent turn of Meadows’ family events. Both parents had visited daughter number two as well. ‘It was nauseating.’
A panting Maisie turned the treadmill down to its slowest setting, hoping this was the equivalent of dawdle on the dial. Two minutes of running had nearly given her heart failure. She was at the gym to spend quality time with Zoe – getting fit was an unnecessary by-product. As were her knee-length Lycra shorts and double-layered sports top.
Although the sisters had talked every few days when Zoe had emigrated, there was nothing like a face-to-face chat – conversations where you didn’t need to finish sentences and an eye-roll said everything you needed to say. Maisie wiped the back of her hand across her hot forehead and stepped off the machine.
‘I was as shocked as you, but surely it’s a good thing? Perhaps we can start to be a proper family again. Perhaps when Ben’s tour finishes in Croatia, Lisa could pop down?’ After the shock had worn off, Maisie tried to focus on the benefits of the unexpected situation. This time a couple of months ago she couldn’t have envisaged not only would she be hanging out with her youngest sister again but also that her parents would be talking to each other like rational human beings. Perhaps this Christmas wouldn’t be as dismal as her last.
‘I feel uneasy. It’s too much, too quickly. Apparently they are going to see a film together at the weekend as friends.’ The more agitated Zoe got, the faster she curled those biceps.
‘Stand still and stop bouncing about,’ Maisie said. ‘I’m trying to talk this over sensibly.’
‘I need to be active when I’m stressed, because I don’t believe all those years of animosity will fade into the background. Remember when Mum made that three-foot scratch along the side of his company car after seei
ng him with someone at the posh restaurant in town? How he didn’t throttle her, I’ll never understand.’ She placed the dumbbells on the floor, grabbing at a bottle of energy drink and flipping the top.
There were good and bad sides to having a highly emotional mother. She was the best at celebrations – you only had to announce a two-pound lottery scratch card win and she would be cheering and whooping, swiftly followed by all-embracing hugs and unbridled tears of joy. It could make you feel on top of the world in an instant. But over the years, on the odd occasions she stumbled across her ex-husband, her more primitive emotions won out. It was all small stuff, no actual death threats or physical violence – just some minor criminal damage, a degree of public humiliation and a touch of trespassing.
‘So … you and Oliver then?’ Maisie asked, changing the subject and daring to mention the impending divorce. ‘I’m desperately hoping you’ll remain friends.’
‘Of course. I told you at the party, there’s been no big fight, no illicit affairs. Poor Mum was inconsolable all evening – I knew she’d take it badly. He’s a great bloke but both of us recognised the romance element had dwindled away. We’d inadvertently slipped into more of a brother-sister vibe in the last few years.’
Maisie took her sister’s calm resignation over the situation as a good sign. Unlike Lisa, who could make a drama over slightly over-cooked fried egg, Zoe was pragmatism personified. Perhaps this was why her sisters clashed so badly; Zoe analysed the facts and worked out logical solutions, whereas Lisa had inherited a more emotional response to situations, where facts came quite low down the list.
‘Talking of siblings, I’m thinking of organising a family get-together,’ Maisie said.
Zoe choked on her drink and embarked on a minor coughing fit, as Maisie leaped from the treadmill and gently rubbed her sister’s back.
‘And you think getting our dysfunctional family together is a good idea because …?’ Zoe spluttered.
‘Come on. We’re not that bad. We lived together in the same house for a number of years. Blood is thicker than water and all that.’ The bickering environment of her childhood had been stop-start, with some brief flashes of hope – that last Christmas Day together being a good example. Maybe without the teenage hormones and the enforced confinement, they could come back together as adults and re-create the good times. Maisie wanted to feel at the centre of something whole, not the overstretched bungee straps holding the fragmented pieces of her family together.
‘Why? We made a pretty shoddy job of it first time around. Leave it, sis. The logistics alone make it an onerous task, and then there’s the L factor …’
‘She’s not so bad.’
‘Not so bad?’ Zoe squeaked. ‘Maybe she didn’t set fire to your Sparkle Eyes Barbie or out you to your first serious crush, but there’s a lot she’s done I find very hard to forgive.’
‘It’s hard being the eldest,’ Maisie said. ‘People expect things from you and she’s under a lot of pressure at work. That can make you snappy and I’m sure she doesn’t want to let people down.’ She wanted to find legitimate reasons for her oldest sister’s reluctance to visit.
Tipping her head to one side and giving her younger sister a You’ve Got To Be Yanking My Chain look, Zoe snorted.
‘Her social media posts are full of her floating around life, attending glitzy work functions, pulling ridiculous pouty selfies, always with a glass of fizz in her hands, rubbing shoulders with well-known actors and name-dropping left, right and centre. Oh yeah – she’s got it so tough. Boohoo for Lisa. She’s not been down to Suffolk for months. Face it, Maisie, she’s moved on.’
‘A month ago, I would have said getting Mum and Dad in the same room would be harder to achieve than an Ann Widdecombe/Kim Kardashian girls’ night on the town, but now look at them.’
‘Rather not.’
Maisie persevered. ‘In theory though, if I could gather everyone together, would you come?’ She dug out a pleady face, one she had occasionally employed as a child when asking her dad for a tongue-staining cup of blue raspberry Slush Puppie – something her mum point-blank refused to buy her.
Zoe shrugged.
‘Thanks, sis,’ said Maisie, giving her sister a squeezy, but slightly awkward hug as Zoe’s arms hung limply by her sides, refusing to let the energy drink go.
‘Lisa better behave …’ Zoe warned. ‘Or I’m ramming this right up her—’
‘She will, I promise. And anyway, it’s only an idea at the moment. But you, me, Mum and Dad – that’s a start.’
Zoe grabbed the dumbbells and began pumping her arms up and down with renewed vigour.
‘Start of what though?’ she said, looking uneasy.
Chapter 26
‘Hi, Mum.’ Maisie skipped through the back door, which was always left unlocked if her mum was home. They were a back-door kind of family. It was only the vicar and meter readers who used the front door.
She hung her damp quilted jacket on the coat hooks in the utility and walked towards the living room, recognising a familiar voice, and her heart soared.
Oliver stood up as she entered. His good manners had earned him a whole heap of potential son-in-law points when her mum had first met him all those years ago. Some of the men Lisa had brought home over the years had been … less well-mannered. But then compared to Ben, even a postbox was sociable.
‘Maisie! Always good to see you.’ Taller than her by well over a foot, and very broad across the shoulders, Oliver gave her the most bone-crushing embrace, and then ruffled her hair as he stepped back. Maisie slumped as he let go, her ribcage and lungs recovering from the hug, and tried not to mind about the ruffling. She’d only been eleven when he started dating Zoe, so always felt like a schoolgirl in his eyes. She adored him then, secretly hoping she would one day have an Oliver of her own, and adored him still.
‘He’s popped around to reassure me that the divorce won’t be the end of everything,’ said her mum. ‘I got overly emotional the other day but then we’ve known him fifteen years. He’s practically my second son.’
Crikey – had she really known this hulk of a man for over half her life? As for the second son thing, there were times she’d have gladly swapped her brother for Oliver. Although, with hindsight, she felt for Ben, realising he’d been outnumbered by hormonal women for most of his childhood. Their father worked long hours and her brother had often been the only male in the household, drowning under an unstoppable tide of pink and mindless chatter. No wonder his music was so alpha male and macho-sounding. The band’s first hit, ‘Suffocation’, always made her feel guilty as she’d long suspected he’d written the lyrics, wholeheartedly embracing the phrase ‘write what you know’.
‘It’s an amicable separation so I can’t see any reason I’d lose touch with you all,’ Oliver said. ‘No big dramas, I guess we’ve both changed in subtle ways since we were sixteen, and being together in a foreign country, with only each other to rely on, we simply realised we had nothing in common any more.’ Zoe had said much the same.
He waited for Maisie to take a seat and then sat back opposite them both.
‘Zoe gets the Norwich flat – glad we kept it now – and she’ll buy me out. I felt sorry for the tenants, but they had several months’ notice …’
‘Oh, you knew months ago then?’ Her mum huffed, pulling up her shoulders ready for an outpouring of emotion. Oliver coloured, realising his error a fraction too late.
‘Zoe didn’t want to worry you but we’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I think she missed her mother too much.’ Maisie’s mum slumped slightly at Oliver’s attempt to appease and Maisie was pleased her sister’s need for family was as deeply embedded as her own. ‘We wanted to sort everything before we made any big announcement. So I’m shortly to be homeless and furniture-less, and flat-hunting as we speak.’
‘That’s heartless of our Zoe,’ said her mum. ‘Chucking you out.’
‘She isn’t – not really. I need to be further s
outh for my new job and it’s a long commute. Fingers crossed I might even have found somewhere. I’m going back for another look tomorrow.’
‘A couple of trips across to IKEA will soon have you sorted,’ her mum offered helpfully, piling more Hobnobs onto his plate, despite his shake of the head.
Oliver groaned. ‘Oh God, I’d rather eat my own internal organs. No offence, Bev, but visiting the store is a trauma in itself. I’m not even one of those compliant husbands pacified by the meatballs. And then there’s the queues, getting it all in the car, the assembling … I have many strengths, but DIY isn’t one of them.’ Oliver was indeed less practical than a Frank Spencer/Chuckle Brothers combo. He could work out a household budget spreadsheet in the blink of an eye but glossing a skirting board – not so much. Zoe always said he was so perfect in every other way, she could forgive him this one deficiency.
‘Or,’ said Maisie, realising there was an alternative for her impractical brother-in-law, ‘you could come to the auction and pick up some cheap bits and pieces. We often have decent second-hand furniture come in. If you’re not in a hurry and don’t mind pre-loved, I’m sure you can accumulate enough to furnish a flat over a few weeks. We get in all sorts – from washing machines to bunk beds.’
Oliver put his spade-like hand to his dimpled chin. ‘Hmm … might take you up on that. Although, despite entering singledom again, I’m not sure how bunk beds would go down with any future lady friends, Titch.’ He picked up a Hobnob but put it down again.
Urgh, that nickname proved he definitely still thought of her as about eleven.
‘Dare I ask how David is doing?’ he said, turning to her mother and moving the conversation on. ‘Zoe was pleased to hear you were on speaking terms again.’ Maisie would bet Nigel’s favourite bag of sweetcorn nibbles those weren’t Zoe’s exact words. It annoyed her slightly – almost as if Zoe wanted any reconciliation to fail.
‘It’s time I let all that go,’ her mum replied. ‘I held on to the bitterness for too long, but he really broke my heart. I can’t begin to tell you how much I loved that man. I could barely even look at him in the early days without wanting to rip off his clothes with my teeth and pin him naked to the floor.’ Maisie winced at the graphic image. ‘He’ll always be my one true love. I would have scaled the Empire State Building for him – blindfolded. Life has a funny way of taking you full circle,’ she pondered.