Not Quite Perfect (29 page)

‘Well obviously but sadly I was out with Julia Roberts that night,’ he retorts, a glimpse of the old Steve returning. ‘But seriously, I’ve been offered another job.’

‘Wow, that’s great! It is great isn’t it?’

‘It is actually. I was headhunted and it’s the same sort of job with more money and some international travel.’

‘That’s fantastic! Congratulations.’

‘I haven’t said yes yet. I wanted to speak to you first.’

Rachel feels a surge of hope at these words. At least she still figures in his plans. ‘I think if it’s what you want to do then you should go for it,’ she says trying to sound reasonable.

Lily runs into the kitchen and leaps into her father’s arms. ‘Ah my little Pica-lily, I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too,’ says Lily, resting her head on his shoulder and eyeing her mother with suspicion. ‘I thought YOU were going to Granny’s,’ she says accusingly.

‘Right, fine, I’m going,’ says Rachel, realising she’s not off the hook yet. ‘Daddy’s in charge,’ she adds as she heads for the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow and congratulations on the job again,’ she says to Steve.

He nods. ‘Give my love to Emma and your mum.’

Emma peers through the living room window, looking for signs of life. She contemplates phoning Rachel, who is predictably running late, but tells herself that she can deal with this. Suddenly, she has a nightmarish thought that her mother has killed herself, or had an accident and she contemplates phoning Martin. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she tells herself and takes out her mobile, scrolling to find her parents’ home number. She can hear the phone ringing inside the house and then it’s picked up.

‘Hello?’

‘Mother?’

‘Yes, is that you Rachel?’

‘No, it’s me, Emma and I’m outside the house. What are you doing?’

‘Having a bath, dear. I must have dozed off. What do you want?’

Feeling slightly squeamish about talking to her mother in her ‘nature intended’ form, Emma is keen to finish the conversation. ‘Just let me in, will you, Mum? It’s freezing out here.’ She can hear noises from within the house, sees lights being turned on and eventually the robed form of her mother coming down the stairs. She opens the door, looking quite irritated and Emma wonders if she is going to block her entry. She moves aside for her youngest daughter and Emma suddenly recalls something she read in a bereavement leaflet about forgetfulness.

‘Oh, you forgot we were coming,’ says Emma, making her way to the kitchen and plonking a bottle of wine on the table.

‘I did not forget,’ says Diana, pulling her dressing-gown up around her neck like a defence mechanism. ‘I told you, I fell asleep. I’m allowed to be tired at my age, you know.’ Emma looks at her mother, reaches forward and gives her a gentle hug. Diana bears it for as long as she can before pulling away. ‘What was that for?’ she asks.

‘I’m allowed to hug my Mum, aren’t I?’ says Emma with a smile. There’s a knock at the door. ‘That will be Rachel. I better get this open. I know what she’s like if she doesn’t have a drink in her hand fourteen seconds after she’s walked through the door.’

Diana leaves the kitchen and returns with a shivering Rachel.

‘All right, tart-face?’ says Rachel in greeting.

‘Yes thanks, slag-bag,’ says Emma in reply.

Diana pulls a disapproving face. ‘I haven’t got any food in. So we’ll have to have one of those takeaway things,’ says Diana. Rachel and Emma look at each other and giggle.

‘OK, Ma, do you have any menus?’ says Rachel. Diana looks blank. ‘You know, they drop through the door? Pizza, curry, that sort of thing?’ she continues.

‘Rachel, do I look like the sort of person who encourages hawkers and purveyors of junk mail?’

‘All right, Mum, calm yourself. I’ve got all the numbers in my phone. Do we fancy a curry then?’

‘Ooh yeah, curry would be good. Is that OK for you, Mum?’

‘Of course, order me a prawn jalfreezi, tarka dhal and a keema nan please.’ Rachel and Emma look at her in surprise. Diana shrugs her shoulders. ‘You young people don’t have the monopoly on these things, you know. Daddy and I used to have a curry once a month, but he was the one who ordered for me. He knew what I liked.’ Diana’s voice drifts off and she looks lost. Rachel and Emma exchange worried glances and then Rachel leaps in.

‘Christ, Em, haven’t you got that bloody bottle open yet. Mum, we’ll sort it all. You go and get dressed.’

Diana suddenly clicks back into gear. ‘All right, but don’t blaspheme, Rachel,’ she says disappearing upstairs.

By the time Diana reappears, the girls have laid the table and found some candles to light. Rachel puts on an old Stevie Wonder CD and pours the wine. Her mother walks in and Rachel is struck by how grief has aged her. Her eyes still sparkle and dart around the room ready to find and fix their attention on anything which displeases her, but her demeanour has a weary, resigned look to it. When she sees the candles and hears the music, she can find no fault.

‘This is lovely. Your father would have loved this,’ she says, and Rachel wonders if she is going to cry. She picks up a wine glass and hands it to her mother and clinks it with her own.

‘To Dad,’ she says. Diana smiles but doesn’t speak.

‘Here we are,’ says Emma returning with three bags of sweet-smelling curry. She plonks them on the table.

‘Not there!’ cries Diana. ‘I don’t want turmeric stains on my best table linen, thank you!’

‘Sorreeee!’ says Emma like a petulant teenager and Rachel laughs. She takes the bags from her sister. ‘I’ll dish up in the kitchen.’

‘Have you warmed the plates?’ demands Diana.

‘Of course,’ says Rachel still smiling.

As with all good takeaway curries they have ordered far too much so that by the time they have eaten their fill, the table is littered with half-eaten naans and several quarter-full containers.

Diana sits back and dabs at her mouth with a napkin. ‘That was delicious.’

‘Mmm, very good,’ says Rachel, stabbing her fork into the leftover mushroom bhaji. ‘I should take some of this home for Steve.’

‘No wonder he left you,’ says Emma with a grin.

‘You cow. That is out of order!’ cries Rachel.

‘That is a little unkind, Emma,’ says Diana. ‘And may I ask, Rachel, if this arrangement with Steve is a permanent one?’

Rachel mouths ‘Thanks a bunch’ at her grinning sister. ‘We’re working things out,’ says Rachel trying to sound as ambiguous as possible.

‘That’s a little vague if I may say so,’ says Diana. ‘What about Scotland and more importantly, what about the children?’

‘Oh, we’re definitely keeping them,’ says Rachel with a lame attempt at levity.

‘Rachel, I don’t think this is the time for humour. Your life is falling apart around your ears. You need to take action.’

‘Yeah thanks for that, Mum, but we’re sorting it. Actually Steve’s got a new job so Scotland is officially off the agenda.’

‘Well, that is a blessing,’ declares Diana.

‘You need to get a job,’ says Emma.

‘And you need to get a life,’ says Rachel.

Emma sticks out her tongue. ‘My life is fine thank you.’

‘Spinster!’ coughs Rachel with a grin.

‘Shut up Rachel.’

‘Girls please!’ cries Diana looking heavenwards. ‘What would your father say?’

Rachel and Emma look ashamed. ‘Anyway,’ says Emma after a pause. ‘I really think you should get a job, Rachel. It would do you the world of good.’

‘Aren’t you forgetting something rather vital?’ says Rachel as if addressing a very slow child. ‘The three small people I work for? I can’t exactly hand in my notice.’

‘Mum could look after them.’

‘What?’ chorus Rachel and Diana with equal measures of horror.

‘Well, you could at least think about it. I mean Mum needs something to do and she is brilliant with the kids and you really need to go back to work. You’re starting to become such a whinger.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ says Rachel staring at her sister. She notices that Emma and her mother are nodding at each other. ‘I am not a whinger.’

‘Well, you don’t always seem to be enjoying it, Rachel dear, and it would be good for you to have a break. Goodness only knows if I’d had your choices in my day, I might have gone back to work.’

Rachel looks at them both. ‘Well, thanks for that, family.’

‘Just think about it, sis, and now, who’s for pudding? I brought brownies!’ says Emma.

Later in the evening, Diana gets out some old photo albums and they look at the pictures together, laughing at the fashions of the seventies. Rachel stops at a picture of Diana at her wedding with her mother and father.

‘Were you close to Grampy?’ asks Rachel.

‘Not really. I think he and Mother felt they should have children out of a sense of post-war duty. I was something of a disappointment.’

Rachel wonders if it’s the wine making her mother this unguarded, but is pleased that she is opening up to them. ‘For the record, Mum, I think Granny was out of order at the funeral and you were right to say what you did.’

Diana smiles weakly. ‘Well, it’s given Mother a lot of material to complain about, so I suppose some good came out of it.’

They turn the page to find photos of Diana and Edward when they were first married.

‘You look like film stars,’ says Emma, keen to carry on talking about the past and share memories of Edward. Diana looks lost in her grief and suddenly gets up from the table.

‘I’ll make us some tea,’ she says sweeping out of the room. Emma goes to follow her.

‘Leave her, Em,’ says Rachel.

Emma comes back to the table and picks up her wine glass. ‘I wasn’t being mean, Rach. I just get the feeling that you could do with a bit of a break from the kids sometimes. I mean Lily and Alfie will soon be at school.’

Rachel nods. ‘I know. It’s just that everything’s a bit up in the air at the moment’

‘Tell me about it,’ says Emma.

Diana returns with the tea. ‘Here we are. No, Rachel, don’t pour yet. Didn’t I teach you to let it steep properly?’ scolds Diana. Rachel smiles and sees Emma smiling too. Eventually, Diana carefully turns the pot and pours out three cups. Stevie Wonder’s ‘I Believe’ reaches a crescendo and they sit, nursing their tea, letting its joyous tones wash over them, each lost in a memory of Edward Darcy and wishing he were there to put everything right again.

Emma loves airports. Despite the endless queues and mile-long walks to the departure gate, she always feels a bubble of excitement when she enters one. There’s an air of expectancy and the phrase ‘all human life is here’ always echoes in her mind as she passes through. Really she would have liked to start this adventure on her own, but Rachel was determined to ensure her little sister safe passage to Heathrow. Will was devastated as he was unable to attend due to school commitments. He tried to persuade his mother that the trip would be educational but she was having none of it. Alfie opted to stay at home with his granny as he ‘doesn’t be liking the noisy planes’, so it is just Emma, Rachel and Lily who now struggle with Emma’s laden trolley, trying to avoid people’s ankles on their way to the check-in.

‘All girls together!’ chimes Rachel.

Lily looks at her mother with distaste. ‘I’ve only come because I want to see Auntie Emma off. I still think it’s your fault that Daddy left!’ says Lily with a determined pout on her face.

‘Very well,’ says Rachel, who has developed a rhino-thick skin over the last few months in an attempt to deflect Lily’s persistent jibes. ‘Well, you won’t want to go for a milkshake afterwards so I can tell you my big surprise!’ Lily looks at her as if to say, I don’t think you know what you’re dealing with. I won’t be won over with measly milkshakes. ‘Also, I saw that Hello Kitty rucksack in a shop over there and I thought we could go and spend some of your birthday money on it,’ adds Rachel with a grin.

Even Lily has a limit. ‘OK,’ she says with pursed lips.

‘Nice one, Rach. I thought the ice queen would never melt,’ says Emma. ‘Right, I need check-in numbers 42-45. Why don’t you go and grab us some coffees and I’ll take Lily for a spin on the trolley. OK, Lils?’ Lily nods her head and climbs aboard. Grateful for a break from her tormentor, Rachel heads for the nearest coffee shop.

‘So, Auntie Emma, why do they call New York, The Big Apple?’

‘I don’t know, Lils, but when I get there I’ll find out and send you a postcard, OK?’

‘Cool!’ says Lily, bouncing up and down on the trolley. ‘How long are you going for?’

‘Well, six months to start with, but maybe longer.’

‘I’m going to miss you.’

Emma kisses the top of Lily’s head. ‘I’m going to miss you too, sweet pea.’

‘Can I come and visit you?’

‘Of course you can.’

‘Auntie Emma?’

‘Yes, Sweetness?’

‘Do you miss Grandpa?’

‘More than I can tell you, Lils.’

‘I miss him. And I miss my dad.’

‘Ah, but you can still see your dad.’

‘I know. I hate my mum.’

Emma takes her niece’s face in her hands. ‘Lily, you mustn’t blame your mum. None of this is her fault.’

‘Of course it is. She kissed Tom.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I heard her and Daddy talking. I’m not stupid.’

‘You’re certainly not that, Lils. Now listen, you have to understand that grown-ups aren’t perfect, so don’t be too hard on your mum. She loves you and she and your dad will always look after you and do their best, OK?’

Lily sighs. ‘OK, but when I’m a grown-up, I’m not going to lie to my children. I will always tell the truth and I won’t let things get complicated.’

Emma smiles. ‘Well, good for you, Lils. I hope you manage it.’

Rachel comes rushing back in a high state of excitement. ‘Guess what?’

‘You forgot to buy coffees?’ says Emma, staring with disappointment at her empty hands.

‘No, well yes, but this is much more important. I just had a call from Daniel!’ Emma looks blank. ‘Daniel? My old boss? You know how you told me to e-mail my old contacts to see if anything was going. Well, he’s got a project for me! He wants me to start next month and the best bit is, I can do it all at home. I just have to go into the office for briefing meetings. How fantastic is that?’

Emma folds her sister in a hug. ‘Rach, that is brilliant news. Good for you!’

‘Does that mean you’ll stop shouting at us?’ says Lily unimpressed.

‘Hopefully Lils!’ cries Rachel hugging her daughter.

‘Excuse me?’ says a slightly irritated voice behind them. ‘There’s a check-in desk free.’

‘Sorry!’ trills Rachel smiling manically.

Emma watches Lily and Rachel disappear towards the Arrivals Hall and wonders if she’ll ever have children of her own. She glances at her phone, half-expecting a text or a call from Martin but knows she’s probably being foolish. They have been exchanging e-mails over the past few months, ever since Miranda offered the sabbatical to the New York offices. She had been hesitant at first but Miranda had been encouraging. ‘I think you could do with some time away, dear heart. It is a great opportunity as well and much as I will miss you, I think you will adore it over there. But if you come back speaking like an American, I will have to sack you!’ When she told Martin of her plans in an e-mail, he had given her no reason to turn it down. ‘OK, let me know what you want to do about the house,’ he had replied without any hint of emotion. They had agreed to let it for the time being and Martin had cleared out the rest of his things one evening when Emma was out with Rachel. When she returned home, she found a photograph on the table. It was taken the day she, Martin, Steve, Rachel and her father had taken Will to a football match. Her father has his arm around his girls with Steve and Martin on the outside and a grinning Will standing in front of them all. Martin had left a note with it: ‘I found this and thought you might like to take it to New York with you.’ Emma had wept at the sight of them all and felt wretched with longing for the happy days she had taken for granted. She showed Rachel a few nights later and after a couple of glasses of wine, Rachel had made her e-mail Martin. Emma wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do but after she had written down how she was feeling and pressed send she’d felt better somehow. That was a week ago and she hadn’t heard from him since.

Suddenly, her niece emerges like a bullet from a gun, dragging someone by the hand.

‘Look who we’ve found. It’s Daddy! It’s my Daddy!’

‘Like a scene from
The Railway Children
,’ says Rachel, emerging alongside them smiling.

‘Hey, stranger,’ says Emma pecking Steve on the cheek. ‘And bye, stranger.’

He smiles. ‘Bye, Em. Good luck.’

Emma kneels down to kiss Lily. ‘Now remember, Lils, I’m relying on you to look after everyone while I’m away. You’re the only one for the job.’

Lily nods gravely. ‘I love you, Auntie Em,’ she says, wrapping her aunt in a tight little hug.

‘I love you too, Lils,’ says Emma, blinking back tears.

‘Hey tart-face,’ says Rachel. ‘No weeping.’ She clings on to her sister for a long moment and whispers in her ear. ‘I’ll miss you, Em.’

‘Me too,’ says Emma. After a moment she pulls away and cries, ‘Later, slag-bag, and don’t forget, you’re coming for a debauched weekend of Cosmopolitans,
Sex and the City
-style!’

Rachel smiles and nods, brushing away a stray tear. Emma gives them a final wave before turning and disappearing into the jostling crowd.

‘So,’ says Rachel. ‘Who wants to go home then?’

‘Only if Daddy is coming.’

‘Of course Daddy is coming. It’s still his home too,’ says Rachel, looking up at Steve for backup. The last few months have been the hardest of Rachel’s life with Steve staying at his Mum’s, although he came round to see the children and help put them to bed as many nights as possible. Some evenings he stayed for a beer or a cup of tea and a chat but he always left at around nine o’clock. She hated it when he left and loathed going up to a cold empty bed. Some nights Alfie climbed in next to her and she let him stay, grateful for a human form in the bed beside her. She told herself that she had to give Steve time and space and let him sort things out for himself. It went against her usual analysing and problem-solving nature but she had this feeling that if she pressured him, she would lose him for ever. When he started his new job, his working patterns changed and he wasn’t always free in the evenings, plus he had to go on a few overseas trips. Rachel had always offered to pick him up from the airport but he had declined the first few times. Last week he had phoned from Singapore to speak to the children but they were all immersed in the television so Rachel had got the lion’s share of the conversation.

‘How’s Singapore?’ she had asked.

‘Sweaty. And busy,’ he said.

‘Sounds heavenly. Have you been to Raffles?’

‘Of course. Our client took us there on the first night. You would have loved it, especially the Singapore Slings.’

Rachel laughed. ‘So when are you back?’ she asked trying to sound casual.

‘Next Thursday. Actually –’

‘Yes?’ she blurted hopefully.

‘I wondered if you wanted to come and meet me maybe with Lils and Alf if you’re free?’

Yes I’m free, I’m free, I’ll be there!
Rachel wanted to cry. ‘We’ll be there,’ she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

‘I want to come home, Rach.’

Rachel couldn’t hold back the tears. ‘Oh Steve,’ was all she could say, her voice cracked with emotion.

‘I’ll see you on Thursday then,’ he said. She could hear the relief in his voice.

Steve picks up Lily and kisses her. ‘Yes, I’m coming home, Lils.’

‘For ever?’ says Lily with a furrowed brow.

‘Well, apart from when I have to go to work.’

‘Yay!’ she cries, squeezing him tightly round the neck.

He grins at his wife. ‘Let’s go home, shall we?’ he says.

‘Yes please,’ says Rachel, wrapping an arm round his middle and leading them towards the exit.

Emma finds her seat and is thankful to be by the window. She stows her hand luggage in the overhead locker and stashes everything she needs for the journey in the pocket in front of her. She retrieves her phone and checks for messages – still nothing from Martin. She feels a little hurt, although she knows she has no right. She flicks to her e-mails and notices that Miranda has sent out a note about her move to New York. She has received a raft of well-wishing responses. She scans them and is amused to find one from Digby addressed to Ella.

She clicks on a message from Joel:

All the best to you, Emma. Thought you might like to see the synopsis for the MBS title I am currently working on. Could be of interest to your new American colleagues. Regards, Joel
.

Emma clicks on the attachment and is taken aback to find a grinning picture of Joel under the title
Get A Grip On Your Life, Loser!
She immediately forwards it to the editorial team at Allen Chandler under the heading ‘Takes one to know one’.

She notices an e-mail from her mother, who is taking lessons on the internet from Rachel. She snorts with laughter as she reads:

Be careful and try to avoid as many Americans as possible unless they look like James Stewart. Come home soon, Mum x
.

Emma smiles at her mother’s attempt at affection and then switches off her phone and closes her eyes. She is just drifting off when she hears a voice next to her.

‘Excuse me, is this seat taken?’

She opens her eyes and is surprised and delighted to be looking up into Martin’s handsome face. ‘Martin! What are you doing here?’

He sits down next to her and gives a little cough. ‘Oh, you know, I was just passing,’ he says with a wry grin.

‘Martin, we are sitting on an aeroplane bound for New York.’

He nods sagely. ‘Well, I haven’t had a holiday in ages.’

She grins at him. ‘What does this mean?’ she asks.

‘You tell me.’

‘Did you get my e-mail?’

‘I did. Did you mean it?’ He turns to look at her, studying her face. She suddenly feels as if she’s looking at him for the first time in her life and she likes what she sees.

She leans forwards and kisses him and the feeling that surges through her body is warm and wonderful. She breaks away to look at him again and realises for the first time in her life that she is exactly where she wants to be.

‘I meant every word,’ she says.