by Jane Corry
Poor Poppy. I wanted to cocoon you! Wrap you up in my arms. You were the daughter I’d never had. You were the woman my son had chosen and with whom he was madly, deeply in love.
But then I began to suspect that there was another side to your grief. A heavy burden you could not share. I could tell that, although you loved Stuart in your own way, it wasn’t with that same intensity I knew he felt for you. When he reached for your hand, you often ignored it. When he padded across the corridor to your room at night, I heard you through the wall, telling him that it wasn’t ‘correct’ under his parents’ roof. True passion turns your mind upside down so it doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong. I know that all too well.
My intuition told me – don’t ask why – that you’d been in love with another man and that it hadn’t worked out. I didn’t know about the abortion then. And if I had, I would have understood. Of course I would have done. I might be from a different generation. But things like that went on in my day too, you know.
When Stuart announced that he was marrying you, I was elated but also scared for you both. Would you be happy with a sensible man like my boy? And would you hurt him down the line if (or when) you discovered that you needed the passion that I guessed you were missing? I suggested you asked your mother to the wedding but you were adamant. ‘I don’t want anything to do with her,’ you said. ‘But Dad will come.’
It seemed incredible when, a year later, you said you were pregnant. I’d never really thought too much about being a grandmother. But then when Melissa was born and we visited you in hospital, you asked if I wanted to hold her and I felt this rush of love and protection that I’ve never, ever felt for any other human being. Not even for Stuart. It’s hard to explain. Perhaps it’s because it felt magical knowing that my child had had a child of his own. I was also overawed that there was a little bit of me in this beautiful baby girl, even though she’d been conceived by two other people. One day, Poppy dear, if the girls have children, you’ll understand.
‘I’m always going to be here for you,’ I promised her. ‘You’ll want for nothing.’
Even Jock got a tear in his eye. ‘There were times when I never thought this would happen,’ he said, squeezing my hand. ‘We’ve come on a long way, haven’t we, you and I?’
Yes we had. More than I could ever have imagined. It’s why I knew, later, that you and Stuart still had a chance.
I felt the same outpouring of love when Daisy was born. To be truthful, I’d wondered whether I could ever love another grandchild as much as I adored Melissa. But I did. Was this how mothers with more than one child felt?
Jane would have made a good grandmother. She told me so in my dreams. ‘If it wasn’t for you,’ she would whisper, ‘I might have had a chance.’
Your girls, Poppy, reminded me of the children I had loved so much. What were Violet and Alice doing now? Had Gary married again? Sometimes I was tempted to look him up on the internet, but each time I stopped myself. What would be the point? I couldn’t risk stirring up the past. It’s the present that matters.
The grandchildren gave Jock and me a new lease of life. Milton Keynes isn’t that far from London and we were always coming up to see you on the train, weren’t we? You came to us too. Remember how we took them to Woburn Safari Park one day on our own to give you a break? The girls did Jock and me a lot of good. They gave us a new common ground. We even started planning a cruise round the Med to celebrate his retirement, which was coming up.
Then Jock died. None of us expected it. I never knew pancreatic cancer could be so quick. He must have had it at Daisy’s second birthday party but didn’t even know.
‘I’m sorry, my wee hen,’ he said to me at the end. Those were his last words. I didn’t have a chance to say that I was sorry too, for my part in it all.
At one point I would have longed to have had the house to myself. Instead it seemed empty. Cold.
You might have thought I’d feel relief now I could do what I wanted without a husband setting old-fashioned boundaries. But I didn’t. Jock and I had been together for so long that I couldn’t imagine life without him. We’d had some very bad times. Yet when all was said and done, Jock and I had reached an understanding. Besides, I’d spent the whole of my adult life with him. That counts for a lot.
If you and Stuart hadn’t taken me in, I don’t know what I’d have done. But waking up with Melissa and Daisy rushing into my room every morning and throwing their warm little arms around me brought a new meaning to my life. How I loved helping to bring them up; supervising their homework; taking them to school; playing French cricket in the garden. It suited me, to be honest, that you worked, Poppy. It meant I had something meaningful to do again.
And then you met that man.
29
Poppy
My mind is in such a whirl after leaving Matthew that I head off in the wrong direction and find myself walking along the Strand. Then I bump into someone, realize where I am and go back to Embankment Tube station. I take a moment to lean against the cold stone wall and attempt to clear my head. What have I done?
The more I think about it, the more I realize I can’t go to the police. It would mean involving Stuart, and that’s out of the question. The idea of me giving Matthew all of our savings is obviously ludicrous. How would I ever explain that to my husband? And the thought of giving in to blackmail makes me feel sick. But right now I’m struggling to see an alternative.
Suddenly I find myself unable to breathe with panic. I double over, my legs all wobbly, trying to draw in air like a runner who has just finished a marathon. Maybe I have. Perhaps this is the end of the road. Passers-by are staring at me. No one offers help. Once more I remind myself that London is a big place but you never know who is going to be walking past at any given moment. Someone might have seen me. Us. I’m in enough trouble already without that. So I head for home, still trying to breathe properly, checking my mobile constantly in case Matthew messages me again.
Perhaps I should have pretended to agree about giving him the money. That would at least have bought me some time and I wouldn’t be worried sick about Matthew’s next move. Whatever that might be.
As I walk up our garden path with its neatly planted wallflowers, I glimpse Betty’s silver head and Daisy’s auburn curls through the window, bending over a Ludo board. (My mother-in-law taught them to play ‘good old-fashioned games’ from an early age.) Coco is sitting beside them. Melissa is coming in through the door with a tray of something. She sits down on the sofa behind them. I watch them laugh. I’d like to tackle my daughter at some point about her online friendship with Matthew and the ‘acting tips’ he’s been offering, but don’t dare in case she smells a rat. Then Betty gets up to close the curtains – it’s nearly dusk – and she sees me. Her face appears anxious until I remember myself. Swiftly, I smile and wave.
She waves back and then comes to the door as I’m fumbling for my key.
‘Did you have a good time with your friend?’ she asks as I slip past.
‘Lovely, thanks,’ I reply breezily, and then, after taking off my shoes, I go straight upstairs so I don’t have to look her in the eye. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I perch on the edge of the tub, trying to order my thoughts. Yet again, a crazy part of me wants to confide in Betty, but what sympathy could I expect from the mother of the man I’ve cheated on? She might even tell Stuart. My mother-in-law is always declaring she loves me like a daughter but I’m sure that would quickly change if she knew what I’ve done to her son. The only course of action is to wait and see what Matthew does next.
Then my phone pings with a message. It’s Sally.
Are you free to talk?
I call her immediately.
‘Doris’s lawyers have called. If we agree to give her £5,000, she will settle out of court.’
Compared with the ludicrous amount Matthew is demanding, this seems like nothing. Then again, Doris is o
nly suing because Matthew put her up to it – something I don’t feel able to share with Sally out of shame.
‘Let’s just do it,’ I say.
‘But we haven’t got it. Not until next month anyway.’
Sally is the one with the head for figures. As anyone with their own business knows, keeping afloat is all a matter of cash flow. Although the Poppy Page agency is doing well, we’re currently waiting for quite a lot of money that is owed to us from various production companies.
‘I’ll talk to Stuart about borrowing it from our personal account,’ I say.
‘Are you sure? It seems so unfair. I can’t understand why Doris is suing us. I thought she was more loyal than that.’
‘Let’s just pay her off,’ I say quickly. ‘We need to insert a non-disclosure clause to say she can’t discuss it with anyone. We don’t want to get a bad name.’
‘It might be too late for that,’ says Sally quietly. ‘Half an hour ago, I had a phone call from a production manager cancelling a booking. Apparently he’s using someone from Sharon’s agency instead. He said he’d heard ‘through the grapevine’ that we hadn’t been insured at the time of the accident. I tried to get him to change his mind but he was insistent on switching.’
By the time I get to bed that night – after catching up on emails and finalizing details with Doris’s lawyers, Stuart is already there. I hadn’t even seen him over dinner because I’d stayed up in my office working. He reaches out an arm. ‘Everything all right?’
‘No,’ I want to tell him. But I can’t. Nor can I sleep. My head is all over the place. If Matthew calls again, I’ve decided, I’ll declare that I’ve already told Stuart and that he’s going to report him for harassment. It seems to make sense in the small hours but when I wake up the next morning, I’ve lost my nerve. Supposing Matthew calls my bluff?
I make the girls their packed lunches and drive them to school because they’re running late. Betty has an early morning meditation session to go to. When I get home, I take Coco out for a walk, although Melissa did this first thing. I could do with the fresh air.
It’s drizzling right now but it’s doing me good to be away from my desktop.
Then I suddenly realize that with everything going on, it has been a good few days since I’ve spoken to Dad.
I scrabble in my pocket for my mobile and dial his number. But there’s no answer.
He’s probably at the social club, I tell myself. Or maybe he’s in the loo. I call the carers’ agency. ‘One of our ladies called round today,’ said the woman who picked up, ‘but your father said he was busy and didn’t need her.’
But of course he needs her. He can’t do much with that ankle of his!
I ring again. I’m just about to put it down when he picks up. ‘Dad?’ I say.
‘Hi, Poppy,’ The lightness of his tone reassures me.
‘The agency told me you’d cancelled the carer today.’
‘Well, that’s because I’ve got a visitor, isn’t it?’
He says this as if I should already be aware.
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘He just called round, didn’t he? I wasn’t expecting him.’
‘Who is it?’ I ask.
But even as the words come out of my mouth, I instinctively know the answer.
‘That young man of yours. The one you had before Stuart. Said he was in the area and thought he’d call round for old times’ sake.’
‘Matthew Gordon?’ I try to keep my voice steady so as not to frighten Dad.
‘That’s the one!’
‘He’s there? With you now?’
‘That’s what I said, didn’t I? You should listen more, Poppy. Then you wouldn’t get into a muddle.’
‘Let me speak to him,’ I say tersely.
‘He’s in the kitchen, putting the kettle on. Ah, here he is.’
I can hear Matthew’s voice now in the background. ‘Poppy, is it? Great. Just the person I want to speak to.’
Then he comes on the line.
‘What the fuck do you think you are doing?’ I hiss.
‘Lovely to hear from you too, Pops!’
‘Have you told him anything?’
‘Of course not!’ Matthew’s sounding falsely jovial. I’m beginning to know how he works now. ‘Did your dad tell you that I was in the area and thought I’d pop in? I remembered how to find the bungalow. Not a bad memory after all these years, don’t you think?’
‘Get out,’ I say.
Coco, hearing the tone of my voice, begins to growl.
‘You’re right,’ he says. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you too.’
‘I mean it, Matthew, I swear on your life that …’
‘In case you’ve forgotten the details, it’s Waterloo, the day after tomorrow,’ he says. ‘Six o’clock. That’s what we agreed, wasn’t it? Oh and remember your purse.’ He laughs. ‘Your dad tells me you’re doing really well, so you can treat me to dinner if you like.’
Clearly this is code for bringing the cash. All £50,000 of it. There’s no way I’m letting him get away with this. But the first thing I have to do is get him out of my father’s house. I don’t like him there. I run through the options in my head. Should I drive down? Maybe I should call Reg. And tell him what, though?
‘By the way,’ Matthew adds. ‘I’m sorry to find your father’s sprained his ankle. I was a bit surprised, frankly, not to see you here, looking after him.’
As if I don’t feel guilty enough. ‘It’s none of your business,’ I say tightly. ‘Now just leave.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he says in a reassuring voice that not only ignores my previous sentence but also sets my nerves on edge. ‘I’ll look after your dad for a short time, although I’ve got to get back to London to attend to some business. Meanwhile, he needs to take care, don’t you think? Otherwise he might have another accident.’
Beads of cold sweat trickle down my chest. ‘Is that a threat, Matthew?’ I say quietly.
‘What’s that, Pops? The line is breaking up.’
I know the signal is fine, I haven’t moved. I think of Dad standing there, frail and vulnerable. Not long ago, it would have seemed impossible that Matthew would actually hurt my father. But now I am starting to think he’s capable of anything. That he’s mad. Unbalanced.
‘OK,’ I say tightly. ‘I’ll get you the money.’
30
Betty
If you want my opinion – and you won’t like it, Poppy – I blame today’s trend for ‘disposable relationships’ on the modern assumption that both parents can work while bringing up children. It might sound old-fashioned, but I reckon that the cracks in your marriage began when you and Stuart found your careers taking off at the same time.
‘Thank goodness you’re here, Betty,’ you’ve always said. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you.’
I was flattered, of course I was! But I was also worried. Yes – I was there for the children but they still needed you. I can’t tell you how many times the girls would ask for ‘Mummy cuddles’ when you were at a meeting or upstairs in your office. They needed their father too. Not just at the weekend but during the week after work. Yet often they didn’t see him from one day to the next because he’d come home so late.
It’s not good for a couple either. My son would return tired and slightly fractious. You began to snap at each other, each feeling that the other didn’t appreciate how hard they worked. Your worlds were so different. How could you begin to comprehend each other’s pressures? I didn’t get it at your age either, when Jock was working all hours and I was struggling with a small baby. But it takes time to understand certain things. And then, when you try to pass it on to the generation below you, they think you’re out of date or that they know more than you do! I was the same with my own mother. Melissa and Daisy will probably be the same when they’re grown up.
I tried to encourage you both to spend more time together. But as the years went by, I sensed that neither of yo
u wanted that. Your businesses had taken over. You no longer had shared interests apart from the children. So I took Stuart to one side. ‘You need to work on your marriage, son,’ I told him.
He’d looked embarrassed. ‘Don’t be silly, Mum. Poppy and I are fine.’
My boy never was one to show his feelings. But I want you to see that doesn’t mean he isn’t sensitive on the inside.
I didn’t think Stuart was the type to look at another woman. Yet you never know. Sometimes I’d pop into the surgery with the children ‘just to say hello’ but really to remind his attractive dental assistant that he had a family. I also got a bit concerned when I heard him talking to some woman he’s writing a paper with.
‘Janine!’ I heard him say on more than one occasion when he picked up the phone. He said it in a way that sounded as though he was definitely pleased to hear from her. People can get very close to others in a working environment. Of course, you might wonder how I know that, since I gave up my last job years ago when Stuart was born. But we covered it in one of my OU psychology modules.
Work can be just as big a rival in marriage as another woman or man. And my Stuart is driven by the need to succeed. To make a name for himself. I blame Jock and myself for that. We’d encouraged him all through childhood to ‘make something of himself’. We both wanted him to have the opportunities we hadn’t had. But I think Stuart took this as an order to work, work, work.
You were the same, Poppy, if you don’t mind me saying. I felt your pain when you told me that you had been desperate to be an actress but hadn’t made it. Broken dreams are as sharp as broken glass. But then I read a magazine article about a woman who had made a career as a walk-on in films. Do you recall the conversation? ‘Why don’t you set up an agency helping extras to find jobs?’ I said. I’m not bringing this up to take the credit. In fact, it’s the opposite. All this is my fault. If I hadn’t encouraged you to be a career woman, none of this would have happened. You and Stuart wouldn’t have drifted apart.