Forget Me Not (35 page)

‘Yes, Anna, but …’

‘What a horrible turn-up for Mum. I thought she’d simply disliked Carol because she was so much older than Mark and didn’t want more children.’

Dad shook his head. ‘That wasn’t the issue at all. Your mother – like most mothers – just wanted her kids to be with anyone who made them happy. But …’

I clapped my hand to my chest. ‘I’m so glad you’ve told me,’ I said. ‘I thought that Mum had been wrong to interfere, but now I can sympathise with what she did. But I wish you’d told me this before – I can’t for the life of me think why you didn’t.’

‘Anna, I haven’t …’

Suddenly my mobile rang. ‘Sorry, Dad.’ I rummaged in my bag. ‘Hello?’

‘Is that Milly’s mother?’ said a female voice.

‘Yes.’ I felt my heart begin to race.

‘It’s Lorraine from the playgroup here. Sorry to disturb you…’

‘That’s OK,’ I said anxiously.

‘But Milly’s not well.’

I stood up, my heart banging in my ribcage. ‘What are her symptoms?’

‘She has a rash on her face, she’s feverish and rather unhappy.’

‘Has she been given any egg?’ I demanded as I picked up my bag. ‘In the snack break? She can’t risk
any
contact with it, as I explained when we met.’

‘We don’t think it’s that,’ Lorraine said calmly. ‘In any case we ask the parents to exclude egg and nuts from their kids’ lunch boxes.’

‘But there’s an egg glaze on some types of bread, or the other children could have had egg on their hands from breakfast. It would only take a tiny bit.’ I felt sick with anxiety.

‘They all wash their hands before starting play.’

I scooped up my keys. ‘I’m coming right now, but if she develops breathing problems you may have to give her the adrenalin shot – the Epipen’s in the medical bag I gave you.’

‘I’ve had first-aid training in dealing with allergic reactions,’ Lorraine said camly, ‘and I genuinely don’t think it’s that – I think it’s chicken pox.’

I hoped she was right. ‘I’m on my way.’ I put down the phone. ‘Sorry, Dad. Emergency. But thanks for explaining things at last.’

‘But Anna …’ He was staring at me.

‘I must go – I’ll call you later.’ I sprinted to the minicab company in Shepherds Bush Road and within ten minutes was at the church hall. I gathered up Milly in my arms and sat her on my lap.

‘Mum-
my
…’ Milly looked floppy and flushed. But her lips weren’t swollen, her eyes weren’t closing up, she had no bumps on her face and her breathing wasn’t laboured. But on her chest and face was a scattering of red blisters.

‘I’m sure it’s chicken pox,’ Lorraine said.

‘Have any of the other children had it?’ I asked, my panic subsiding.

‘We did have a little boy here last week who had, but his mother said he was definitely past the infectious stage – but he may not have been.’ She looked at the other children. ‘We’ll soon know …’

‘That’s chicken pox,’ said my GP as she examined Milly’s skin under a magnifying lamp an hour later. ‘It’s good to get it at this age – she’ll have milder symptoms. There’s not much I can recommend except Calpol, Calamine lotion to prevent itching and tepid baths if she’s in any discomfort. Exclude anything acidic or salty such as oranges or crisps – do not give her aspirin –’

‘I never do.’

‘And of course she’ll need to be in isolation for at least ten days. Keep a check on her temperature.’

‘I will. Thank you.’ I picked Milly up, then my mobile rang again. It was Jamie. ‘How’s it going?’ I asked.

‘OK,’ he replied. ‘Apart from a certain person who’s driving me insane.’

‘I know – it’s ghastly. But just ignore him.’

‘Impossible. The man’s such a dingbat. But what time are you coming back?’

‘I can’t come back today, Jamie – Milly’s got chicken pox. But I’ll be there tomorrow at 9 a.m.’

FOURTEEN

Milly wasn’t too bad – she had a temperature and occasionally scratched at her face but seemed otherwise unbothered by her condition. Dad had offered to look after her in the morning so that I could work.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ I asked him as he arrived.

‘Not at all, I’m delighted, plus I don’t want people to see me with this shiner so I’m happy to be inside. Hello, Milly,’ he said as she ran up to him. ‘How about doing our letters this morning? Shall we do a bit of ABC?’

‘Yes,’ she said happily. ‘Do ABCs …’

‘Right,’ I heard him say as I looked for my keys. ‘So what’s “A” for then, Milly? “A” is for … ?’

‘
Agua!
’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Luisa will take over at twelve. She’s going to see another family this morning.’

‘I see,’ Dad said sadly. ‘It’s a shame.’

‘It is, but she brought it on herself.’

‘True enough.’

‘Then Xan’s going to come over tonight.’

‘But I need to talk to you, Anna.’

‘Sure, Dad. We’ll chat later, OK? But I have to go now.’ I kissed Milly and picked up my bag.

I went to the garage in Ravenscourt Park to collect my car, grimacing as I wrote out the cheque for a new alternator; then I drove over to Eden Lane. As I parked I saw Jamie emptying gardening debris into the skip. ‘Hi, Jamie!’ He gave me a thin smile. I looked at him. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Tip-top,’ he replied. ‘I’m just … bonza.’ He didn’t look it. ‘How’s Milly?’

‘Bearing up – it’s good if children can have chicken pox when they’re small – they cope with it better.’

‘I’ll try and remember that,’ he said bitterly. I hoped he’d snap out of his odd, brittle mood.

I walked into the house, ringing the doorbell, then went through to the garden and waved to Stefan and Harry. ‘What a transformation,’ I said.

Now that the flowerbeds were almost clear, light seemed to flood the garden; it was as though an imaginary lid had been removed. ‘And where are the plants that we’re going to keep?’

‘They’re over there,’ said Jamie. ‘In that corner. We’ve marked them all.’

Pippa appeared in the kitchen doorway with the children. ‘It’s great,’ she said as she jiggled Kitty up and down. ‘It looks twice as big now.’

Suddenly Gerald appeared at her side. ‘A definite improvement,’ he said as he came down the steps. He thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘One can
see
the garden now. But you know it used to look such a picture when my late wife was alive. Yes, Ginny really knew her stuff. She was a fantastic gardener.’

‘Gerald,’ said Jamie quietly. He leaned on his spade and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Yes,’ Gerald replied with an air of surprise.

‘It’s a rather personal question.’

Gerald looked at him suspiciously. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘I want to know when you had your tact bypass.’

‘My what bypass?’ Gerald repeated. ‘What do you mean? Bypass? I’ve had no bypasses of any kind.’

‘Then in that case could you kindly
stop
talking about your late wife?’

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Gerald said.

‘I’ve been in this garden a day and a half,’ Jamie went on, ‘but in that time you must have mentioned the gardening skills of your deceased spouse at least a dozen times – often in front of Pippa.’

‘Yes, but …’ I glanced at her. She’d flushed a bright red.

‘I find it … ungentlemanly, Gerald,’ Jamie went on calmly, ‘if not downright rude.’

‘Jamie,’ I said. ‘That’s enough.’

‘In fact,’ he went on, ignoring me, ‘now that I’m getting it off my chest, let me tell you that if you don’t stop banging on about your dead wife in front of the gorgeous living wife you have here – with the lovely children she’s given you, you lucky
lucky
man – I will not work for you any more. Because I can’t stand it. Got that?’

Jamie picked up his spade and walked calmly away.

‘Well …’ Gerald expostulated. ‘What rudeness!’

There was a momentary silence. ‘Yes,’ Pippa said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, Gerald, but Jamie’s quite right.’

‘OK, Stefan, let’s carry on,’ I said breezily as Gerald went into the house, slamming the door behind him. ‘I’ll be back at the end of the day.’

My hands were shaking as I unlocked the car. I was pleased at one level – so much so that I could have flung my arms round Jamie and kissed him for his act of gallantry. But at a professional level I was appalled. I got into the driver’s seat and rang Jamie’s mobile. ‘Please don’t do anything like that again,’ I asked him. ‘I’m not sorry you said it – in fact, I’m glad – but if a client is obnoxious it’s better to ignore them.’

‘I couldn’t,’ Jamie replied quietly. ‘He was making me so angry I thought I’d be ill.’

‘Then … please don’t take things too much to heart.’

‘Oh, I’ve been trying not to,’ he said with a burst of mirthless laughter.

‘Are you all right, Jamie?’

‘I’m fine,’ I heard him say. ‘Never been better.’

‘That’s … good. Anyway, I’ll see you later.’

I put my phone away, then looked in my diary to check the time of my appointment in Maida Vale. I suddenly saw that I’d booked to have my hair cut at eleven. I glanced in the driving mirror, wondering whether to cancel, but my hair looked thin and lank; so at five to eleven I pushed on the door of Head Girls.

‘Sandra’s on holiday,’ said the receptionist, ‘so I’ve booked you in with Kelly, our new stylist. She’ll be with you in a few minutes.’

‘That’s fine.’

As usual, there was a pile of trashy women’s weeklies in the waiting area, and as usual I read the lurid titles with a frisson of delighted distaste. ‘I Paid for My Husband’s Sex Change Op!’; ‘I Shopped My Own Son to the Cops!’ Good God! ‘I Had Sex with My Daughter’s Horse!’ I picked up I Say! magazine. ‘I Fell for My Own Brother!’ Yuck. I found the relevant page, then, as I read the sub-heading, I felt my mouth turn down with disgust.

Could YOU be attracted to your own brother? Fall in
love with him even? This is what happened to this
week’s
celebrity contributor
. I felt a shock of recognition as I read on.
Actress Carol Gowing, who stars in
The Midwinter Massacres,
due to be screened on Channel 5 in November,
talks exclusively to
I Say!
about the forbidden relationship
she had with her own brother. Some names have been
changed
…

I glanced at the photo of Carol, in her kitchen, looking lachrymose. What an exhibitionist the woman was, writing something sordid just to get publicity for some crappy TV show she was in. Thank God Mark hadn’t ended up with her, I thought as I began reading it.

‘I’d been divorced for five years, and though I loved mytwo kids it was no fun being a lone mum. But then in thesummer of 2003 my luck seemed to turn. I met thiswonderful man – ‘Luke’ – at a party. He was tall andblond, with these ice-blue eyes that seemed to pierce myvery soul. He was kind, considerate and a good listener.He was soon calling me every day and though we saw eachother a lot over the next month or so, we didn’t becomelovers – we both knew that the relationship was too importantto rush
.

‘This is bilge,’ I muttered, wondering what it had to do with Carol’s brother, whose name, I now remembered, was Peter.

I was eight years older than ‘Luke’
. So she made a habit of dating younger men evidently.

The age gap didn’t matter to either of us, but I had to tellhim that I didn’t want any more kids. To my amazementLuke said that having children didn’t really matter becauseall he cared about was being with me
.

‘Do you want to come through now?’ I heard a voice say.

‘What?’ I murmured.

‘I said would you like to come through, Anna? Kelly’s ready for you now.’

Still clasping the magazine, I allowed the receptionist to put a black gown on me and lead me to the washbasin where Kelly was waiting.

‘Put your head back, please,’ she commanded. I did so but continued to read the article, holding it aloft. My neck and arms ached but I didn’t care.

Luke and I had a wonderful rapport. He was a doctor, an
eye surgeon
. I sat bolt upright.

‘Put your head back please, Anna!’

He had just spent six months in West Africa doing cataractoperations for the Sight-Savers charity. Knowing this mademe find him even more attractive. Then, a month afterwe’d met, it was my birthday. He’d planned a surpriseand told me only that I should wear something smart.When he collected me, he was wearing black tie and hada picnic basket in the back of the car. We were going toGlyndebourne to see
La Bohème. It was utterly magical
and I was very happy. I couldn’t know that everythingwas about to be destroyed
.

‘Is the water OK?’ I heard Kelly say.

‘Yes. Yes, it’s fine,’ I mumbled, even though it was too hot. I returned my gaze to the magazine.

As we came out for the long interval, Luke suddenly sawhis parents on the other side of the lawn. So he took meover to meet them. They were all smiles – until he introducedme to them. Suddenly the atmosphere changed. Hismother seemed almost hostile to me now – yet I’d nevermet her before. Luke’s father was also very strained, thoughhe did at least try to make conversation
.

‘Would you like a nice conditioning treatment?’

‘What? Er … no … thanks.’

I could see how hurt Luke was by his parents’ attitudetowards me. As we went back inside the auditorium hewhispered to me that his mother was probably disappointedbecause I’d said I didn’t want any more children. But thatwasn’t the reason for her odd behaviour, as I would soondiscover
.

I felt a towel go round my head.

‘Over to the mirror, please,’ Kelly commanded. I trailed after her in a daze, still reading. ‘Just a trim is it?’

‘What?’ I said, wrenching my eyes away from the magazine.

She looked at my reflection. ‘Is it just a trim today?’

‘Yes. An inch. Please keep the layers.’ As she began to comb my wet hair, I read on:

The next evening Luke asked me to go his flat. He lookedterrible and he didn’t kiss me as he would normally havedone. He told me that his mother had come to see him afew hours earlier and had told him not to get involvedwith me. I protested that she had no right to do that. Thenhe said that she’d just told him something very important– something that I also needed to know – which was thathis mother had once known my father. This didn’t surpriseme as my father knows a great many people as he’s workedin TV for forty-five years
.