Forget Me Not (33 page)

The machine beeped twice then I pressed Stop.

‘I know your English isn’t great, but did you understand that?’ I asked her.

‘Yes,’ she replied quietly.

‘Have you been busking every morning?’ She nodded. ‘From what time?’

‘From 7.30 until 11.30.’

‘I see. Always at Tottenham Court Road?’

‘Also Oxford Circus or Bond Street. The busy stations.’

‘So you must have made a lot of money, then?’

She hesitated. ‘Yes.’

‘I paid for you to go to English school,’ I said. ‘And every morning you pretended that you were going, but you weren’t. You wasted my money and your time.’

She blushed again, then held out a sheaf of fifty-pound notes. ‘Here are fibe hundred pounds, Anna. I always mean to gib it back to you when I leave. I bery sorry,’ she added as she laid it on the table. ‘I feel bery bad.’ Her large brown eyes suddenly filled with tears. ‘You hab been bery kind at me, Anna.’

‘No, not kind
at
you, Anna. I’ve been kind
to
you.’ Milly had come into the room and was looking from one to the other of us, aware that a serious exchange was taking place. ‘And if you needed money you should have asked me,’ I went on. ‘I’d have helped you find a nice evening or weekend job, so that you could still learn English.’

‘Oh, but I no do it for money,’ she said, wiping her eyes.

‘Really?’

‘I bery surprise at how
much
money I make … But I only want be … notada … er … spotless.’

‘Spotted?’ I corrected her. ‘You hoped that you’d be spotted?’

She nodded, then sniffed. ‘A friend from Marbella, she busk in tube – violin – and she get job in string quartet. She play in Festibal Hall.’

‘I see.’ So these were the ‘better opportunities’ that Luisa had been hoping for in London.

‘But I worry that if you know what I do eaches days, you be bery cross to me.’

‘No, Luisa – I’d be very cross
with
you.’

‘I feel
bery
bad,’ she repeated tearfully.

That’s why Luisa had bought Milly the presents, I now realised, out of guilt; that’s why she’d seemed embarrassed when I’d suggested that she save her money; and that’s why she’d lost weight and got some new clothes – in case she got an audition.

‘And I worry that if you discober what I doing – you want to bag me.’

‘Not bag you, Luisa. Sack you. You were worried that I’d want to sack you.’

‘So …?’ She gazed at me dolefully.

‘I’m afraid that I do.’

‘I had to,’ I said to Jamie the next morning as we drove to Pippa’s and Gerald’s house in his blue pick-up – my car had gone to the garage. ‘She’d deceived me for six months. It was incredibly dishonest.’

‘That’s true …’ he said as we crossed the Hammersmith Road. ‘But it seems a shame as you liked her – and she’s repaid you for the course. When’s she leaving?’

‘I’ve given her four weeks’ notice so that she can find somewhere else.’

‘Milly’s going to be upset,’ he said as he indicated left and slowed down.

I felt a pang of regret. ‘I know.’ And with the present instability with Xan and Patrick it was hardly an ideal time for a change of au pair. ‘But I was furious with Luisa. I still am.’

‘But didn’t you ever see her leaving the house with her guitar?’

‘No, because she always left very early so that she could catch the rush hour commuters – among whom she hoped would be a few music industry executives.’

‘And she didn’t busk at weekends?’

‘No, because then all she’d get was shoppers and tourists – she wasn’t doing it for the cash.’

‘She must be good to have made so much, though.’

‘She is,’ I agreed as we drew into Eden Lane. ‘She told me that she’d usually make eighty pounds a morning – which with her au pair money meant she was making almost five hundred pounds a week. She’d take it to the bank and change it into large notes.’

‘Why didn’t she deposit it?’

‘Because she doesn’t have an account. Her English wasn’t good enough to fill in the forms and she was worried that she’d have to pay tax. But I’m going to help her open one. She wants to transfer half the money to her parents as they’re rather hard up,’ I said with a pang. ‘Anyway, what time are your guys coming?’ I asked as we drew up outside Pippa’s house.

‘I told them to meet me here in half an hour. But I just want to go round it with you first to check that I’m going to rip out the right things. Good, the skip’s here. OK … jump down.’

As he parked I looked at the rotovator and chainsaws that Jamie had got in the back of the pick-up, ready to start the clearing. I rang the bell and Gerald opened the door.

‘Good morning,’ he said, giving us both stiff handshakes.

‘This is Jamie Clark,’ I said. ‘He and his team will be starting work this morning but I’m just going to show him what’s to be removed and what’s to be cut back, and then I’ll come back at about three.’

We went into the kitchen where Pippa was giving the children breakfast. The table was a mess of boiled eggs, toast soldiers and scattered Rice Krispies.

‘Hi!’ she said, beaming at us. ‘Excuse the mayhem in here.’

‘It’s lovely mayhem,’ Jamie said. ‘What little beauts.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll take them all out when the work starts.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Jamie said. ‘It’ll be noisy as well as hazardous; and we’ll be coming and going through the house with stuff to put in the skip, so we need to have these little guys out of the way.’

Gerald opened the back door.

‘Streuth,’ Jamie murmured as we went outside. ‘I see what you mean, Anna. This is going to take two days,’ he added as I showed him the trees and shrubs which were to be removed, and those which were to be cut back.

‘It’s such a pity that it’s got like this,’ Gerald said as Pippa and the children followed us outside. ‘It used to look lovely.’

‘Really?’ Jamie said. He gently kicked a little blue football to one of the twins.

‘Yes, my late wife was a fantastic gardener.’ I discreetly rolled my eyes.

Jamie nodded. ‘I see.’

‘Oh, yes indeed, she’d never have let it get into this state.’

‘Right,’ Jamie said.

‘She kept on top of it.’

‘Great,’ Jamie replied in a bored tone. ‘But then she probably didn’t have three tinies to look after. Gardening’s very time consuming.’

‘That’s true, but she could grow anything. She won bronze at Chelsea in 1986 you know.’

‘Terrific. Now what about that tree peony, Anna? Seems a shame to lose it.’

‘We’re not. We’re going to move it to that corner.’ I showed him the plans again.

‘Right.’ Jamie nodded. ‘Good move.’ His mobile phone rang and he flipped it open. ‘Hi, Harry! You and Stefan are five minutes away? Good on you, mate. And have you got the earphones?’ He stole a glance at Gerald. ‘Because I’m going to need them.’

‘We’ll put down dust sheets in the house,’ I explained to Pippa. ‘But we’ll need to move the table out of the hall and take down the paintings. If you show Jamie where you’d like them put, he and the boys will do it.’

I left as Harry and Stefan arrived, and got a cab home. On the way I phoned Dad to see how he was. He didn’t answer, so I called his mobile.

‘I’m just leaving Charing Cross Hospital,’ he said. ‘My GP sent me for an X-ray to make sure my cheekbone wasn’t fractured.’

‘And?’

‘Luckily it seems to be fine. The nurse gave me painkillers and told me to rest.’

‘Why don’t you drop by and have a late breakfast?’ I suggested. ‘Then you can tell me what happened … if you want to …’

‘It’ll take about a month to heal,’ he said half an hour later as we sat in the kitchen with the back doors open, sunlight flooding the floor.

‘It does look nasty.’

‘It looks awful,’ Dad agreed, ‘and it’s embarrassing. People will think I’ve been brawling.’

‘You haven’t, have you?’

‘Not exactly,’ he replied balefully. ‘But I’ve been …’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been awfully silly really, Anna.’

‘In what way?’ I asked, though I knew.

He sipped his coffee. ‘Well, over the past two months or so I’ve been meeting a number of … ladies. I won’t say how I met them if you don’t mind.’

‘That’s OK.’ I passed him a Danish pastry. ‘But what were they like?’

‘Some were very charming – none of them was interested in me,’ he added quickly, ‘but then I guess I’m a bit old for the dating scene.’

‘I don’t think so; you just need to find someone of the right age.’

‘Perhaps you’re right. Most of these women were far younger then me. I was flattering myself,’ he added ruefully. ‘But I’ve always bought them dinner and got them a cab home.’

I passed him a paper napkin. ‘That’s decent of you.’ He must have spent a fortune, I thought.

‘I feel it’s the least I can do. They’ve spent the evening in my company – probably bored to tears I should think,’ he went on miserably. ‘An old codger like me.’

‘Don’t say that, Dad, you’re a nice man and you’re still very good-looking, black eye or not.’

He smiled. ‘Anyway, two nights ago I met one of these women – in Morton’s wine bar, in Berkeley Square. Her name was Tatiana.’

‘Russian?’

He nodded. ‘She was very glamorous – in her mid forties – but to tell you the truth, not very nice. All she talked about was how she wanted to find a man who’d buy her a flat and a Porsche. She was totally focused on it.’

‘I see.’

‘She said she was hungry, so we ordered dinner; and when it came to leaving she asked me to get her a cab home. When we left the bar I saw her make a quick call on her mobile phone, in Russian, and as we were walking along she said that the cab would cost twenty pounds – she lived down in Streatham – and could I give her the money now. I was a bit surprised, but I got out my wallet,’ – I suddenly knew what was coming – ‘and at that very moment, this … leather-jacketed thug appeared from nowhere and told me to hand it over. I said I’d do no such thing. So a tussle ensued, during which, I remembered afterwards, Tatiana didn’t call for help. She just leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Then I remember being punched and the wallet being wrenched out of my grasp. And as I lay on the ground I was surprised to see Tatiana and my assailant walk quickly away.’

‘Poor Dad,’ I said as I poured him some more coffee. ‘They probably do it every night.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s not the physical injury,’ he added, ‘or the loss of my wallet – I only had a hundred pounds in it and the cards are easily cancelled. It’s the thought that I’d spent the evening wining and dining this woman, trying to be charming, and all the time she was planning to
rob
me. I do find that aspect of it disheartening,’ he concluded miserably.

‘Did you report it to the police?’

He shook his head. ‘I know I should have done, but I feel so stupid. I simply want to forget about it.’ To my consternation, his eyes had suddenly filled.

‘Dad,’ I murmured.

‘I’m sorry,’ he croaked, swallowing visibly. ‘But my life is not going very well. In fact, to be perfectly honest, Anna, it’s …
shit!
’ I passed him a tissue. ‘I try to be stoical, but what happened last night has really shaken me. Any optimism I felt has all but gone.’

‘But at least, thank God, you weren’t badly hurt.’

‘And I feel I’ve betrayed your mother’s memory with my idiotic behaviour.’

‘She’d understand,’ I said. ‘She wouldn’t want you to be lonely, Dad.’

He looked into the garden, then returned his gaze to me, his eyes still shining with emotion. ‘That’s the problem,’ he croaked. ‘I
am
. It’s been four years now, but I still miss your mother so much.’

‘I know you do.’ I put my hand on his.

‘We all miss her, of course. But you and Cassie are young – and busy. And the distraction of being young and busy is a huge help with grief. Mark’s far away, so being at a distance must have made it easier for him – not having a memory of your mother round every corner. But it’s hard being bereaved when you’re old,’ he added bleakly. ‘Having so much time to feel sad.’

I nodded. ‘But perhaps you’ll meet someone else.’

‘I think it’s very unlikely, but would you mind if I did?’

‘Well, I suppose it would be a bit hard to start with, but how could I possibly object? We all have to grasp our chances of happiness in life, Dad. And I’d hate you always to be on your own.’

‘The problem is that your mother was irreplaceable.’ He sighed.

‘You wouldn’t
be
replacing her. Just finding someone else to be with for this part of your life.’

‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘Maybe … We had our ups and downs, though,’ he suddenly added.

‘Did you?’ I said disingenuously. I’d never heard Dad utter any criticism of Mum – he would have thought it disloyal – but it was as though he suddenly wanted to talk. ‘Well, all couples go through bad times,’ I added, ‘however happy.’

He sipped his coffee. ‘There were things that, well, tested us over the years. But whatever happened, we never wanted not to be married to each other.’

‘Mum was devoted to you. She often told me that you were her “hardy perennial” – that you were “always there” for her. She felt so lucky.’ With good reason, I reflected wryly as I sipped my orange juice.

‘Even so we had our difficulties,’ Dad said.

My heart began to pound as I saw the opportunity I’d been waiting for begin to unfold. ‘It must have been very hard when you were in Brazil.’

He nodded and looked out of the window. ‘It was hell. Those eight months apart nearly did end it for your mother and me.’

‘I know,’ I said quietly.

He turned his gaze to me. ‘You don’t, Anna, because I’ve never talked to you about it and I doubt that your mother did.’

‘She didn’t. Nevertheless I
do
know,’ I insisted as I passed him a muffin. ‘In fact, Dad, now that we’re chatting, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you – something very important. I don’t want to make you feel any sadder, but it’s been on my mind for several weeks.’

He rested his knife on his plate. ‘And what’s that?’

‘There’s … something I found recently and it’s been tormenting me.’ He gave me a quizzical look. ‘It was an old photo,’ I went on, ‘of Mum. I found it purely by chance – it just fell out of one of the old gardening books of hers that you gave me. It was taken in 1977, when you were in Brazil.’ I saw Dad stiffen slightly. ‘And in this photo, Mum’s sitting on a beach, in Chichester, with this … well, this …’ I felt my face burn with embarrassment. ‘With this …
man
. I hadn’t a clue who he was,’ I stumbled on. ‘And there was this letter with the photo – a letter she’d written to you – and … you see the thing is …’ My mouth had dried to the texture of blotting paper. I couldn’t go on.