Another Mother's Life (16 page)

“That’s me,” Catherine said with a smile. She quite liked talking to Dave, as it happened.

“So it looks like we’ve been abandoned, then,” Dave said, nodding at Kirsty and Sam, who in the blink of an eye had gone from chatting to deep, deep kissing.

“I expected it,” Catherine told him.

“Well, why don’t we head off somewhere else, then, somewhere a bit quieter where we can get a drink and talk, what do you think?”

Catherine looked at him. She was fairly sure he was chatting her up. Either that or he just wanted to hang out with a still married yet single mother of two who was two inches taller than him.

“I … look, I have to go,” she lied. “I’ve got kids, two under eight—the babysitter goes mad if I’m late.”

“But it’s only just past ten,” Dave said, seemingly unfazed by her children. “Have one more drink with me.”

“I’m sorry,” Catherine said. “I can’t.”

And she raced out of the pub and back home as fast as she could until she was safe, back behind her own front door, where she could grow the hair on her legs and cook dinner for her ex, and where she could be safe and shut off and never have to worry about what to say to mildly attractive men in pubs or, worse still, what they might say to her.

M
um,” Eloise said through a mouthful of toast on Monday morning. “Can I ask Gemma to tea this week, can I, please? She said she’s going to train her puppy this weekend, so can I,
please
?”

Catherine looked at her daughter, who had twisted her long hair into her best approximation of a ballerina-style bun and secured it with some frou-frou nonsense that Catherine’s mother-in-law had probably inflicted on her during the girls’ last visit there. Catherine knew the scrunchie was a silent protest against what her daughter saw as a violation of her human rights: if she was not allowed to have ballet lessons on Monday afternoons, she’d do her best to look like the girls who were.

“Don’t talk while you are chewing,” Catherine told her. “And anyway, if you are so keen to see her puppy, you should be visiting her house. It’s not as if she can bring it here.”

Catherine knew something that Eloise didn’t, but just for the
moment she was refraining from telling her because she liked to be able to eat her breakfast in relative peace.

“Why not? And anyway she’s the new girl, like a guest at a party, and I am sort of the host. So I have to ask her first and then she’ll ask me back and I’ll get to see her puppy,
please
, Mum. You never let us do
anything
!”

Oblique reference to the lack of ballet lessons again reinforced how meager her request was to have one paltry friend back to tea, in the hope that it would elicit a return invitation and the chance to visit a puppy, another treasured wish that Catherine was not able to fulfill for her daughter. Feeling rather inadequate and depressed, Catherine wished she had told Eloise what she had known before this conversation had even started.

The new family was having a housewarming party and Catherine and her daughters were both invited. Lois had rung her yesterday evening just after the girls got back, telling her that all of the PTA and their families had been invited to attend on the following Saturday. Lois told her it was a shameful bid on the part of the mysterious new mother to buy her way onto the PTA committee, despite the fact that new applicants weren’t normally considered until September. Still, Lois pointed out it would be an excuse to nose round her house; she’d been dying to look round one of those new houses for months—she’d heard they were terribly vulgar inside. Gold effect taps. Then Lois told Catherine she had already RSVP’d on behalf of the whole committee.

A huge party like that thrown only a couple of weeks after they had arrived meant that Gemma’s family must have a lot of money. Catherine was as proud of her daughters as any woman could be, and she loved the ramshackle cut-price charm of her terraced cottage. But it was difficult not to wonder what some of the other parents thought of her when they brought their children to one of the smallest houses in Farmington, with its
secondhand sofa and only one loo. What did they really think of the thirty-two-year-old with a philandering long-haired, largely unemployed estranged husband and vegetable patch in the back garden?

Catherine never craved normality in the sense that she wanted
things
. She didn’t want things. She would just like sometimes not to feel self-conscious about who she was and the life that she had chosen, or rather the life that had chosen her when she wasn’t really paying attention. She supposed when she was a girl she’d had the same expectations as everybody else, that as plain and awkward as she was, one day somebody would love her and then hand in hand they would lead a normal life, get married in their twenties, have children, buy a nice home, and have a steady but modest income. When she married Jimmy she’d hoped for the kind of simple life that seemed to be the right of other people. But their marriage, though often wonderful and occasionally painful, had never been normal.

Farmington normality was a three-car family and a five-bedroom house. Catherine with her part-time job and reliance on tax credits was not anything like the norm. In this money-ugly town she was the oddity. Even so, she couldn’t deny Eloise a new friend with a puppy because of her own insecurities.

“Well, actually,” she said, bracing herself for the squeals of excitement that were sure to follow her announcement. “You
are
going to be Gemma’s guest, because her mum and dad have invited us all, and just about everyone else in Farmington, to a party at her house next Saturday night!”

“A party! A party at Gemma’s! Oh, thank you thank you thank you, mum!” Eloise jumped up and planted a buttery kiss on Catherine’s cheek before scowling. “We are going, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are going,” Catherine said.

“Are all of us going? Me too?” Leila asked from the other
end of the table, reserving her excitement until she clarified that point.

Catherine smiled. “Yes, of course.”

“And do we get to stay up late?” Leila asked happily.

“A little bit later than usual,” Catherine said.

“Thank you, God!” Leila grinned at the ceiling as the girls sprung up from the table and clung on to each other, jumping up and down.

“It’s going to be great,” Eloise told Leila, her eyes wide. “We’ll be able to play with Gemma and Amy as much as we like!”

“Will it be dark, though?” Leila asked.

“Pitch black,” Eloise replied.

“Ooooh, goody, goody, goody!” Leila shrieked.

“What’s going on?” Jimmy asked as he appeared through the back door. “I’ve never seen them this keen to go to school on a Monday morning. I’ll have to brush up on their antiestablishment training.”

“No, silly, we’re not being anti-dish-table-is-went, we’re all going to a party!” Leila said, flinging herself at her dad’s legs, nearly knocking him off balance.

“Are we?” Jimmy asked, steadying himself against the door frame and smiling at Catherine. “Cool, any chance of a quick shower? I’m laying down that demo today and then Mick’s going to take some photos to put on the CD cover, and I have to look my best. When’s this party?”

“Help yourself to the shower,” Catherine told him. “The thing is I don’t think you are exactly invited to the party. At least not on my invitation. It’s for PTA members and their families.

“But Daddy is our family,” Eloise said.

“Yes, he’s our
daddy
,” Leila added, as if Catherine was being a bit thick. “ ’Member? Plus mankind is one big family, Mummy.”

“I know, darling, but …” Catherine looked at Jimmy, who clearly wasn’t going to help her out if he could tag along to a party where there would be free booze and free food, two of his favorite things.

“I’m just saying I don’t think you were specifically invited, it was an open invitation to the PTA and you are not on the PTA.”

“Well, I might as well be, the amount of discount I give that organization for my services. Look, if it’s an open invitation, how do you know if I was invited or not? Even the people who are doing the inviting don’t know who they’ve invited in that case.”

“It’s Gemma’s mum and dad,” Eloise told him with an air of pride. “She’s my new best friend and she’s getting a pony.”

“And Daddy, we’re going to stay up late in the dark!” Leila told him, making a spooky face.

“Are we?” Jimmy grinned down at his daughter as he disengaged her and headed up to the bathroom. “Cool. Give me five minutes and I’ll walk you to school.”

“Mummy, why does Daddy come here for a shower?” Leila asked as the sound of Jimmy’s heavy footsteps sounded on the bathroom floor above their heads.

“Because Daddy doesn’t have a shower on the boat,” Catherine said absently.

“Daddy practically doesn’t even have a
roof
on the boat, it’s so leaky,” Eloise mumbled.

“Yes.” Catherine looked thoughtful. “Daddy really needs somewhere better to live.”

“Like here?” Eloise asked hopefully.

“Like a house or a flat with a decent roof,” Catherine replied. “And some form of heating.”

“Like here, then,” Eloise added, and Catherine remembered her agreement with Jimmy.

“Somewhere like here, but either he’ll have to sign a record deal or I’ll have to win the lottery, because at the moment we can’t afford it.”

“We could afford it, if he lived here,” Eloise said, and Catherine decided it was impossible to argue with her because after all she was right.

“No,” Catherine said again as the four of them walked briskly to school, running a good five minutes late.

“But do we really mean no?” Jimmy asked her, striding along beside her. “Think of what an experience it will be for them, how much great music they will hear live.”

“No, Jimmy, no, you are not combining your tour of Oxford-shire with your turn to take the girls on holidays. You are not going to drive them around unsecured in the back of a van, make them stay up all night in pubs while you perforate their eardrums, and then put them God knows where while you do … whatever you do.”

“
Nothing
, I do
nothing
after a gig. I have a pint or two and then go to bed
alone
in whichever B&B we’re staying at,” Jimmy said, obviously offended.

“Well, even if that’s true, you can’t do that with a five- and an eight-year-old!” Catherine protested, flinging out her hand in exasperation.

“But the van’s just been serviced and I’d put car seats in the front for them to sit on; I’d even throw in a seat belt.”

“No,” Catherine repeated, throwing him her warrior-queen look. “It’s not going to happen.”

“But why, Mum?” Eloise asked her. “We could be roadies. Please? It will be fun.”

“Daddy said we could be back-up singers,” Leila urged her. “Plus the van’s just been serviced.”

Catherine narrowed her eyes at Jimmy. “I will never forgive you for bringing this up in front of them.”

“I’ll add that to the list, then,” Jimmy said in exasperation.

“That’s not fair, Jim, and you know it. I cook for you, wives do not cook for a husband if they still give a damn about … well, you know what. Anyway, this isn’t about us. It’s about our two
little
girls. Sometimes I think you forget that you are their father and not just their friend.”

“I know that,” Jimmy explained, hurrying to keep up with Catherine’s long strides. “That’s the one thing I definitely do know … look, okay. You’re probably right, taking them gigging isn’t my best plan. I suppose I thought it would be economical, like killing two birds with one stone. Multitasking. I know you dig that, right?”

“No.” Catherine had to raise her voice to be heard over the chorus of pleases that followed Jimmy’s suggestion. She suddenly stopped dead, which meant her disparate little family overshot her by a few steps before coming to a juddering halt.

“Jim, please, think about what you are suggesting,” she said, looking up into his eyes. Jimmy held her gaze for a moment or two and then dropped his eyes to his boots.

“It’s probably not a good idea, after all, girls,” he said, his comment greeted by a selection of groans. “Mum’s right. When you’re a bit older I’m definitely going to take you, but right now you
are
too young. We’ll think of something else to do. We could go and visit Nanna Pam?”

Catherine glanced at him before walking on, giving him that look of hers, her specialty, the look that said that he was more of a burden than a partner. It had become a frequent expression of hers during the last year or so they were living together. That constant unspoken disappointment was part of what had driven him to go with Donna Clarke to the ladies’ loos.

“Look,” Catherine said as she charged along at double-quick pace. “I know you love the girls, I know you do your best for them. But I just wish sometimes that you’d think further ahead than five seconds. You never seem to plan anything.”

“I’m more of an instinctive kind of guy,” Jimmy said with a half-smile. “Like a ninja.”

Catherine’s exasperation bloomed into a reluctant smile and Jimmy found to his immense surprise that he had been holding his breath until it appeared.