Guilty Feet (14 page)

‘So she threw you out,’ I said, appalled.

He grinned at me and shook his head. ‘Little does she know what a big favour she did me.’

‘Does that mean you have no intentions of going back?’

‘I don’t know, Jo,’ he said grimly. ‘I really don’t.’

This was not what I wanted to hear now. I wanted my dad to be strong and stand up against my mother, but it wasn’t for me to say. ‘And what about Giovanna?’

He looked surprised. ‘I think you might be jumping the gun a bit there,’ he said. ‘I haven’t even spoken to her yet about us having a meal on our own. She might turn me down flat.’

But I think by the look we exchanged that we both knew she wouldn’t do that.

‘Let’s just see how things go,’ he said.

I felt uneasy when I eventually went to bed. I was just getting used to the fact that my mother and father were splitting up, and now I had this uncomfortable feeling that if she played her cards right she might get him back. And I know it was none of my business, but what was the point if they didn’t love one another? And I was certain they hadn’t for a very long time.

Then I had a really horrible thought. I remembered comparing Dan unfavourably to my flash new friends—people who mattered so little now that I hadn’t spoken to any one of them since Pisus folded. And I’d even accused him of being boring—the same accusation my mother had thrown at my dad.

So did this mean that Dan might be right after all? About me being like my mother.

They say the truth hurts, and that comment had stung me like hell at the time. It frightened the life out of me now.

Chapter Twelve

I didn’t sleep too well that night, and I got up very early the following morning. It was still dark outside and I crept around the flat as I made some tea, so as not to wake Dad. He was sleeping soundly on the sofa bed, and as I passed him on the way back to my room I moved the curtain a little and looked out of the French window over the river. I found myself wondering what had ever made me think that this was the place I wanted to be. In the weeks I’d been there I don’t think I’d ever got any actual pleasure from looking out over that murky stretch of water.

If I’m honest, I think the main reason I took the place was because it was so expensive. Because it was in the coolest part of the city and living there meant I’d
arrived
. Which was more or less the same reason that my mother had insisted on moving to Piper Hill. Because Piper Hill was the place to be
seen
to live—because Piper Hill was where the likes of the Dicks lived.

I took my tea to the bedroom and turned on my computer. When I read Dan’s message to Sarah I was relieved I hadn’t read it last night. At least now I could honestly say that Sarah didn’t receive the message in time. As well as everything else, I’d been giving some thought to what he’d said about
pride
stopping him phoning me, and I’d decided that was bullshit now. The truth was that he didn’t phone me because he was too busy with Aisling, and now it was over with her he was after Sarah.

I wrote back with a certain glee.

Sorry, but only just picked up your message (a.m. Thursday) so too late to set anything up, I’m afraid. Hope whatever brings you to the smoke goes well.

Sarah

I wasn’t sure where I was going with this anymore, but it still seemed important to keep it on track. Besides, I was curious about the book he was writing.

I wrote therefore:

What
are
you
working
on
at
the
moment?

I had to make another cup of tea before I could bring myself to aptly Hotmail my mother. I was so mad with her that my hands were actually shaking over the keyboard. Why couldn’t she just call, like other mothers? Why did we have to communicate through electronic mail, for God’s sake? I knew perfectly well that she’d deliberately left the message while I was at work so that she wouldn’t have to speak to me. If she’d wanted to do that she would have called my mobile. But there was one good thing about it, I supposed. At least I could be more honest about my feelings by e-mail. And I felt like being particularly honest with her that morning.

The sun was up now, and I could hear my dad moving about. I called out to tell him that he could use the shower first, and he grunted some sort of affirmative reply.

Dear
Mum
, I started, and that was about as friendly as it went.

How dare you tell me what I should and shouldn’t do regarding my father? Now we can go two ways from here on in. You can carry on being demanding and difficult, or you can phone Dad or write him a letter and try and sort things out. THIS IS NOT MY PROBLEM and I refuse to be your go-between.

Joanna

I sent it quickly before I lost my nerve, then I lost it anyway. The moment the ‘Message Sent’ sign appeared on my screen I felt like a gibbering wreck.

***

‘That got here quickly,’ I said when Giovanna produced a postcard from Marco. I’d felt a bit uncomfortable with her till then, but it sort of broke the ice between us.

It was a typical scene of a Spanish beach, and the words he’d written on the back weren’t particularly inspiring either. The usual ‘having a nice time’ scenario, and how much better the weather was there than in Leeds. He did mention me briefly. Just a quick, ‘say hi to Joanna for me’, but it was enough to bring a warm glow to my cheeks.

‘But it won’t be great,’ I said of the weather, to distract her attention from my blushes. ‘I mean, it is November. And I know you think he should have gone to Italy,’ I continued, going on a bit now, ‘but he’d have been better off in the Canaries or Florida if it was sunshine he wanted.’

Giovanna frowned at my garrulousness and put the card in her apron pocket.

‘He seems ‘appy and that is-a what matters.’

She grinned then, and gave me one of her sudden enveloping hugs, and it struck me that she was the very opposite of my cold, self-centred mother.

‘You look-a tired Joanna,’ she said when she let me go. ‘You don’t-a sleep too good?’

‘Things on my mind,’ I said, but I managed a smile.

She held her head quizzically on one side.

‘And you don’t mind-a your papa asking me to your place for dinner?’

I wondered then if I should tell her that he’d only just left my mother. But that would be to presume she thought there was something romantic about the invitation, so I decided it best if I left the explaining to him.

‘I don’t mind in the least,’ I said, truthfully now, ‘but I think the plans might have changed.’ I told her that I was going out and that Dad was going to ask her out for a meal in a restaurant.

She looked just a bit embarrassed by this, but definitely not displeased.

Lunchtime was busier than usual, and Dulcie was agog to hear about my father. Between serving and clearing scores of bowls of pasta, I managed to tell her what was going on.

‘Do you know, that beautiful woman hasn’t been out with a man in years?’ she confided in me when Giovanna was in the kitchen. ‘It’s just been Marco and the café. And it’s not as if she hasn’t had her chances.’

I didn’t doubt that she’d had her chances for a moment. ‘Is it because of Marco’s father?’

‘Could be. He did hurt her very badly.’

‘Maybe nobody else has ever lived up to him,’ I said slushily.

Dulcie’s eyes flashed at this, though. ‘What? To a lily-livered swine who left her when she was pregnant?’ She was obviously not so sentimentally inclined as I was.

‘But she’s done very well for herself,’ I said, glancing about the café, not even sure as I said it what relevance it was supposed to have.

‘Of course she’s done well for herself; she works hard, but do you think that makes up for losing her family? Things might be different now, but Giovanna was a good Catholic girl and her family would never have accepted an illegitimate child thirty years ago.’ The anger died suddenly and she shook her head sadly. ‘What kind of man pretends to be free when he’s married to someone else?’

Oh, God, I thought. A man like my father, maybe?

But it was different with my dad, surely, I reasoned. He wasn’t some sort of...philanderer. He wouldn’t mess Giovanna about and then go back to my mother. Would he?

Then I thought of my mother and how determined she could be when she wanted something. And at the moment she wanted my father back. Not for the right reasons, of course, but what did that matter? It was all about saving face with her. And while it was one thing throwing her husband out of the family home for a while in order to teach him a lesson, it was quite a different story if he chose not to return. And Dad hadn’t exactly ruled out the possibility of going back.

I might love my mother, but at that moment I didn’t like her one little bit. I was even despairing of my father, who might be a much nicer person than she was but he could be such a drip at times. Just for a moment part of me thought that they deserved one another, but then, out of the blue, it occurred to me that maybe they both deserved better. I didn’t think for a moment that she loved him any more than he loved her, and if they got back together they might never get the choice to find something better.

It was my duty, therefore, to keep them apart.

Dulcie hardly got a word out of me for the rest of that busy lunchtime period as I thought long and hard about this, and when Giovanna started off on ‘Volaré’ I was glad for once, because it meant I didn’t need to talk to her either. I was thinking how I was going to deal with my mother, what approach I could take. Nothing presented itself very clearly, but I knew I would have to do it face to face. And when my dad turned up at the café that evening again, and Giovanna blushingly agreed to a meal à deux the following night, I realised that there was no time to waste.

‘You go back to the flat on your own,’ I told him as we left the Italian. ‘I’m going to meet Sid to discuss a few things.’ I didn’t like lying to him, but I preferred it to explaining why I was going to see my mother.

***

‘See you tomorrow, then,’ Libby said as she stepped out on to the pavement in the centre of Leeds.

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Aisling said with a smile. They’d gone over the plan on the way into town, and Aisling seemed quite excited about it all. Of course she wasn’t aware of the full facts, but that was her fault for being so gullible and failing to ask the right questions.

Libby closed the car door and waved as Aisling forced her way back into the rush hour traffic. She stood there until it was out of sight and then turned and headed quickly for the nearby taxi rank. She’d had no option but to accept the lift when she’d turned down Aisling’s invitation to attend a grand opening event on the grounds of a prior engagement. It might have looked strange, and as it turned out the lift provided her with a very neat alibi.

It would be touch and go with timing, of course, but it was still only six o’clock. She could be in and out again by seven and, fingers crossed, that should be all the time that she needed.

***

I just made the crowded six-thirty shuttle train. I wasn’t hopeful of getting a seat, but when I spotted a single space halfway down the carriage I made a triumphant dive at it. Only to find I was sitting right next to Nicola Dick.

I couldn’t believe my bad luck. Of all the spaces in all the trains...

She obviously felt the same way, by the look she gave me, and after our recent exchange she didn’t even put on a show of friendliness.

‘There must be somewhere else you could sit,’ she hissed.

‘Well, there isn’t,’ I said, ‘and I’ve been on my feet all day, so if anyone’s going to move it’ll have to be you.’

She gave me a withering up and down look, and then rearranged her legs to exclude me from her personal space—something I’d read in an article about body language. Then she drew the newspaper she had been reading closer to her face in order to complete the process. Which suited me just fine. For a while anyway, until the train got going and I remembered what my mother had put in her e-mail about Nicola’s recruitment firm.

‘I understand things aren’t going too well for you at the moment,’ I said pleasantly.

As she slowly lowered the newspaper an expression that was both puzzled and irritated revealed itself. ‘Are you talking to me?’

‘I’m not yet in the habit of talking to myself,’ I replied, keeping my voice steady and even.

‘Things are going perfectly well for me in every aspect of my life,’ she said coolly, but I could see she was troubled. I could see her mind working overtime, wondering what I could possibly know.

‘There’s no shame in admitting that your firm’s in trouble,’ I said sympathetically. ‘We live in troubled times, after all. And it’s just possible that I may be able to help you out.’

There had been no discussions with Sid about this as yet, but the way things were going it wouldn’t be long before we would need to take on some additional technical staff. He’d called me earlier and told me that two of Pisus’s former clients were definitely back on board—including Tim Bailey—and that he had high hopes of getting all of them by the end of the week. And he wouldn’t be able to handle seven projects all on his own.