Guilty Feet (17 page)

Besides, although she was particularly quiet that morning, keeping her head down in the back kitchen, I kept getting the feeling that she wanted to say something to me, and I decided in the end that would be best. Let her do the talking if she felt like it.

Dulcie was very excited that lunchtime. She kept asking questions. She wanted to know everything—where Giovanna and my father were going for their meal, what she intended to wear, what time they were meeting—and poor Giovanna flushed and mumbled and altogether looked thoroughly miserable.

It was when Dulcie left that she finally opened up.

‘I can-a stand it no more, Joanna,’ she said unhappily, and as she did so I noticed that her moustache was gone. ‘What must-a you think of me?’

I was thinking that there must have been some Immac amongst that big Boots shop of hers, but I didn’t suppose that was what she meant.

‘I mean-a going out for a meal with your-a papa when he is still-a married to your-a mother.’

I was serving two cappuccinos at the time, and I waited until I’d taken payment from two young women who looked disappointed about being moved on. They were plainly intrigued by Giovanna’s outburst.

‘I don’t think badly of you, if that’s what you mean,’ I told her quietly and calmly, quite relieved that it was out in the open at last. ‘I was a bit annoyed with my father at first, but now that he’s explained the situation I’m fine about it.’

‘And your-a mamma?’ she went on anxiously. ‘How will she feel if-a she finds out?’

‘She’s not in a position to offer an opinion,’ I said with a shrug. And because she looked so doubtful, because she looked so unhappy, I told her everything. It took about half an hour in between serving coffees and biscotti, but I felt a lot better for it afterwards.

‘And so you think she is in-a love with this man?’ she asked gently of my mother, when I’d finished pouring my heart out.

‘I really don’t know.’ I shrugged. ‘But I can’t see my parents getting back together after this. She’s just gone too far, I’m afraid. And besides, I don’t think they should get back together. I haven’t seen my dad this pleased about life in years.’

She smiled fondly at me as she passed me a weak milky coffee.

‘You are-a a lovely girl, Joanna, a beautiful girl. And your-a mother—she did a good job on you, so don’t be too angry with her.’

I wanted to say that she didn’t know what a bitch I could be, which I definitely had my mother to thank for, but enough was enough for one day.

‘I don’t know about that,’ I did say, ‘but I do know that my dad’s very much looking forward to tonight, and I don’t want you feeling guilty in any way.’

‘I don’t-a. Not now’ She gave me one of her terrific hugs and then we knuckled down to clearing up. Giovanna had decided to close the place an hour early that evening, to give her the chance to go to the hairdresser, and I wasn’t complaining. I wanted to get back to have a long soak in the bath before Dad got back and hogged the bathroom.

***

Libby had been in the dress shop for about twenty minutes. It was in the Victoria Quarter and had the best view over the bagel stand which Aisling had suggested as her rendezvous point with the would-be buyer. But the would-be buyer was late, and Libby was beginning to get anxious.

In fact, as she moved hangers along clothes rails in a pretence of interest in what the shop had to offer, she seriously considered calling the whole thing off. Until a few minutes ago she’d managed to convince herself that it couldn’t possibly be Paul who was behind it all, that he wasn’t capable of such an elaborate deception. But now, in a complete turnabout in her thinking, she was sure that it was.

But it wasn’t him that was worrying her now; it was Aisling. She had been primed with a story that would convince most people that she was genuine, but how would she cope if Paul pressured her? How would she react if he told her the truth? Libby could have kicked herself for not thinking about this in advance, and the more that she thought about it now the more she began to panic. She looked out at Aisling, sitting there on the bench next to the bagel stand, and tried to imagine what she would think if Paul spilled the beans—especially after their conversation on the drive into town.

They’d been talking about Dan, and speculating on the damage to his CDs.

‘It seemed so...spiteful,’ Aisling said. ‘Like the sort of revenge a woman takes when she’s been hurt by a man.’

‘Do you think it could have been Jo?’ Libby said.

Aisling frowned at this. ‘I never thought of that. But why would she do that after all this time?’

‘Who knows?’ Libby said, and then left it at that. She didn’t say any more because she wanted Aisling to think that the idea had been hers when she next spoke to Dan. It was clear that he hadn’t mentioned the scarf as yet—which she thought was strange—but he might if someone voiced any suspicions. And if Dan believed that Jo was responsible, then he wouldn’t be hung up on her any longer. He’d hate her for what he thought she had done, and then, at long last, he would be ready to move on to someone else. Someone very like her—

But the whole careful plan might fall apart if Aisling learnt what she had done.

It was then that she saw him. He was watching Aisling from the other side of the bagel stand, and his expression was puzzled and uncertain. He was dressed casually in jeans and a brown leather jacket, and just for a moment Libby’s stomach gave a little lurch of regret. She’d been crazy about him once, but he’d let her down badly and regret quickly gave way to self-preservation.

She saw that his expression had changed, as if he’d suddenly realised what was going on. He ran his hand through his fair hair and then made a move towards Aisling. At which point Libby bolted from the shop and intercepted him before he got there.

He looked confused for a moment when he saw her, and then he shook his head.

‘So it was you,’ he said.

Libby turned and glanced at Aisling. She hadn’t seen them, and was at that moment frowning as she looked for something in her bag. Without any further thought Libby took hold of Paul’s arm and led him quickly away from Aisling.

Chapter Fourteen

Dad, strangely enough, was at that moment attempting his own particular rendition of ‘Careless Whisper’ as he got ready in the bathroom. He’d already been through several Gilbert and Sullivan tunes that I recognised from my childhood, and he was giving the George Michael classic the same light operatic treatment. He was making it sound upbeat and cheerful, and if I hadn’t known better I’d never have guessed that its themes were betrayal and regret.

He’d been fretting about what to wear. He didn’t have all that many clothes with him at the flat—just work things mostly, that he’d crammed alongside my stuff in the inadequate wardrobe in my bedroom. There had even been talk about driving home to get some additional clothes, but I’d managed to persuade him he wouldn’t have time, that his best work suit would be just fine. I didn’t want him turning up unannounced and finding Brian Dick there, warming his guilty feet by the gas coal-effect fire.

I hadn’t heard any more from Nicola, and I didn’t want to. Not tonight, anyway. Not while my father was making ready for his big date. I didn’t want to spoil it for him, and if she phoned up while he was here it might be awkward. If I got the chance I intended ringing my mother once I’d packed Dad off on his date. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it, but I was determined to get some answers to my questions. If Brian Dick was moving into the family home then I wanted to know about it.

I was more or less ready myself for the off, but I wasn’t much looking forward to the evening. I’d already had Cass on the phone, complaining about the venue I’d chosen to meet up with her and Sid.

I was being a bit selfish, really. I didn’t fancy trailing across the city so I’d picked the Blue Tube, a new bar that had recently opened not far from my flat. It was handy for me, but a long way for Cass to come. I hadn’t told her that Sid was going to be there either. I didn’t want her thinking I was trying to play cupid or anything, which is what she always used to accuse me of when I brought a spare man along in the past. As if I’d do that now, when I didn’t even have a man myself!

I no longer had any high hopes of Sid persuading her to join us. Cass, I’m afraid, was just too stuck in her ways, and to be honest I wasn’t too bothered whether she came or she didn’t. So I gave her short shrift and told her it was the Blue Tube or nowhere, which surprisingly shut her up.

At that moment, as I listened to Dad murdering another good song from a previous era, I was trying to think how to respond to Dan’s latest message to Sarah.

Dear Sarah

The trip to London went OK, but sorry we didn’t get to meet up. I’ve been thinking about what you said about the break-up with your boyfriend. And I’m wondering if you are sure that it’s really over with him? Maybe if you phoned and talked to him—told him how you felt.

By the way, in reply to your question about what I am currently doing work-wise, I’m putting together a largely cut and paste biog on the boy band VantagePoint. Ever heard of them? I feared that you might have!!! Not particularly edifying, but it pays the rent.

Dan

It didn’t sound like a come-on to Sarah at all, but almost like an invitation for me to call him. And I was very tempted. Especially since he’d clearly come down off his high horse and was writing for profit these days as well as his
Art
! That had been another big bone of contention between us. I used to moan at him when he would turn down well-paid commercial offers in favour of doing a freebie for a low circulation jazz magazine. He wanted to get a name as a serious writer, and I could understand that, but I couldn’t see why he wasn’t prepared to compromise. And it looked as if that was exactly what he was doing now.

But what would be the point of calling? He’d asked Sarah if she was really sure that it was over with her boyfriend—by which I presumed that he meant was there any chance of her and the boyfriend getting back together? And if I applied the same question to Dan and myself I couldn’t come up with an answer.

Maybe there was a chance, if we were as honest with one another as Dan and Sarah were, but would we be? Perhaps it’s easier to be honest with strangers, and besides, should I be even considering trying to get back with Dan when I kept thinking about other men? Marco, with his come-and-get-it sex appeal, and Tim, with his flattering happy-to-wait-in-the-wings allure.

It was all this stuff going on in my head that had taken the edge off an evening I’d been looking forward to up until now. I’d been really keen to find out what was happening with Pisus. Sid had some important news—
good
news, he said—and I should have been thrilled about everything—exciting new job prospects, a possible share in the business—but what with my flipping parents, and now this new development with Dan—

I’d got only as far as
Dear
Dan
, in my reply when I heard my dad call out to me. He sounded anxious, so I shut down the computer and went out to see him. He looked good for a man of his age, I supposed—apart from his tie, which I insisted he change.

He’d gone for the smart but sombre look, plain navy blue to match his suit, but I thought Giovanna would prefer something brighter. He didn’t have that big a choice, they were all pretty plain, but I opted for the red silk—a tie I’d bought him two Christmases ago and as far as I knew had never been worn.

‘Don’t you think it’s a bit showy for me?’ he said as he frowned at himself in the mirror.

‘Hardly, Dad,’ I said with a roll of my eyes.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he said, suddenly concerned that I was offended. ‘I love it. I’m just repeating what your mother said. She’s always refused to let me wear it.’ There was a silence and then an, ‘Oh dear.’ He turned to me and sighed. ‘Now I’ve offended you anyway.’

‘No, you haven’t,’ I said, straightening the tie. ‘I know what my mother’s taste is in ties,’ I told him wryly, ‘which is the very opposite of her taste in clothes for herself. You look great,’ I said, standing back. ‘You’ll knock Giovanna dead.’

‘You look pretty OK yourself, if you don’t mind me saying.’ I was wearing a flowery strappy number that didn’t suit my mood in the least.

‘Are you sure it’s only Cass and Sid you’re meeting?’ he said with a lift of his eyebrow.

I’d told him a bit about Sid and Pisus, but not too much because I didn’t want him getting his hopes up for me.

‘Very sure. Now,’ I said, glancing at my watch, ‘you’d better go or you’ll be late.’

And off he went like a nervous lamb. I felt like a mother sending her teenage son off on his first date.

By this time I was well and truly ready for my mother.

Amazingly, she picked up on the second ring—which afterwards made me suspect that she’d been sitting by the phone waiting for someone else to ring.

‘Mother!’ I said.

‘Oh,’ she replied gloomily. ‘It’s you.’

I doubted very much that Matthew would have got a response like that, but this wasn’t about sibling rivalry. ‘You didn’t answer my e-mail.’ I said.

‘Why should I? You were very rude and unkind.’

Oh, God, I thought, she’s in one of her sorry-for-herself moods. The worst kind. The sort that was deliberately and calculatedly designed to make whomever she was talking to feel guilty. But, hey, she was talking to the wrong person just at that moment.

‘I’ve had a good teacher, then, haven’t I?’

There was a shocked pause. Followed by a croak. Followed by full-blown noisy crying. Or something that sounded like crying. It went on for about twenty pence worth of call, and then it calmed down to the odd shaky sob.

‘Oh, Joanna,’ she managed, between sobs. ‘You really don’t know what it’s like.’

‘No,’ I said harshly, ‘you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to have a really good husband and a bit on the side.’

A banshee-like wail then emitted from my earpiece. This went on for some time, during which I held the receiver well away from my head, until it eventually subsided to a strangled groan.

Then I heard several choked words that might have been spoken in Swahili for all the sense they made. It took a while before my scrambling facility kicked into action, but eventually, after about ten seconds of so, the coded message finally deciphered itself.

My forty-nine-year-old mother had just told me that she was pregnant.

***

‘You do realise that you could have gone to prison for what you did,’ Paul said with a sigh.

Libby was sitting with him in his car, under a streetlight on a road just round the corner from her flat. They’d been together for hours now, and still he seemed reluctant to let her go. It was as if he’d been trying to impress on her the seriousness of what she’d done. But if that was his plan then he was wasting his time as far as Libby was concerned.

‘What do you want?’ she said irritably. ‘A medal, or something, for not turning me in?’

‘An explanation would do,’ he said.

She’d been thinking about what she was going to tell Aisling. Why the would-be buyer had failed to show; why Libby had disappeared without giving a reason. Which seemed a lot more important than providing explanations to Paul.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘it’s getting late. You’ve got your property back, so what’s the problem?’

‘Not without a fight,’ he said cynically.

It was true she had not given up the vinyl with very good grace. It had only been when Paul threatened to tell Baz everything that she’d agreed to give the damn records back. He’d brought documentation along to prove that the collection belonged to him, and she’d been afraid that Baz would tell Dan if she didn’t cooperate. The vinyl was now stacked in the boot of Paul’s car, and the knowledge that thousands of pounds had slipped through her fingers made her feel deeply resentful.

‘I hope you don’t expect an apology,’ she said. ‘What you did today was just as bad as anything I’ve ever done. That was very devious of you, pretending to be someone else.’

He shook his head in disbelief.

‘Your brand of logic astounds me,’ he said. ‘And it’s not an apology I want, but a reason for why you stole those records.’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she asked.

‘Not to me, no.’

‘Because you dumped me,’ she said.

‘And do you know why I did that?’

‘Does it matter why you did it?’

‘It should matter,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I
dumped
you, as you put it, because you went around telling everyone that we were getting married and that wasn’t even on the cards.’

‘It was as far as I was concerned,’ she said, even though she wasn’t quite sure what she’d ever seen in him now. He was all right to look at, she supposed, but he was such a drip. OK, so maybe he had tracked her down, which was pretty smart after all this time, but if he had anything about him he wouldn’t just talk about turning her over to the police, he’d do it.

‘But we were only together for a few weeks,’ he said with a sigh.

Libby shrugged. She was getting really bored with this now.

He looked at her without speaking for some time. She couldn’t really see his face because the streetlight was not very bright.

‘Are you seeing anyone now?’ he eventually asked.

‘That’s my business,’ she answered stiffly.

He shook his head. ‘Well, I hope if you are that he doesn’t upset you—for his own sake.’

‘You make me sound like a crazy,’ she said. ‘And there’s nothing crazy about getting even.’

‘I don’t think you’re crazy,’ he said, and then he reached over her and opened her door.

‘Is that it?’ She sounded surprised.

‘Absolutely’ he said as he turned on the engine.

She hesitated.

‘How come?’ she said. Although she’d been desperate to get away she was curious to know what had made the difference. ‘Well, if you must know, the reason I didn’t inform the police is because I actually did believe that you were disturbed.’ She frowned at him heavily, uncertain how to take this. ‘And you don’t anymore?’

‘No,’ he said, looking at her as he waited for her to get out of his car. ‘I think you’re bad now, rather than mad, and I very much hope that you get your comeuppance.’

***

‘I didn’t realise you two knew one another,’ I yelled over the collective drone of the three hundred or so drink-fuelled young people I’d had to negotiate my way through to the bar of the Blue Tube. Above that particular sound I could just about make out some bluesy music that was presumably all part of the
blue
theme of the place. There were a lot of
tubes
involved as well—chrome tubes which had been moulded into seats and tables. It was as if the designer had taken the name rather too literally—either that or they were just having a laugh.

When I’d recovered sufficiently from my shock, I’d decided to phone them both to cancel our meeting. But that kind of shock takes a lot to recover from, and by the time I got round to making the call it was far too late. It was already well past the arranged meeting time, and I knew that Cass would kill me if I failed to show.

My mother had put the phone down on me when I’d let out an involuntary little cry of disgust, and for what must have been a good half-hour or so I’d sat looking blankly at the sitting room wall. When I began to come round a bit from my stupor I thought about phoning Matthew. But, although she hadn’t said that I shouldn’t, I knew it would be the last thing she’d want me to do. And I owed her that much, I supposed.