Perfect Daughter (17 page)

Gina smiled at her friend. ‘You always look okay. You just don’t know it. You’ve got a killer figure.’

Jacks ran her palm over her thighs. Her bootcut jeans were snug. She had carefully chosen a silky white T-shirt with a waterfall neckline; it was flattering and smart but not overdone. She had teamed it with a turquoise pashmina and a large turquoise-coloured ring that she’d found in a charity shop. The inside of it turned her finger green, but she doubted anyone would be examining her fingers that closely. She had put make-up on: peachy blush sat on her cheeks and tinted gloss made her full bottom lip shine.

‘I mean it, Jacks. You are one sexy woman.’

Jacks waved her hand as if to shoo away the compliment. ‘Must be all that running up and down the stairs!’

‘Well, whatever it is, you look fab and you look pretty and happy. You don’t always look happy, but you do today.’

Jacks nodded into her lap. ‘I still really miss my dad a lot and that’s like a sadness that is always there.’

‘It’ll fade, Jacks.’

She looked out of the window at the trees and hedgerows rushing by. ‘He was lovely, wasn’t he? More than my dad, he was my mate, the person I called if the washing machine flooded or the car wouldn’t start. Even now, I wish I could grab the phone to ask him a question – he just seemed to know stuff. Or to share something that the kids have said. And the shock when I remember that he’s not going to answer… it leaves me speechless, every time.’

‘I know you were close to your dad and I bet you must really miss him. But I think…’ Gina paused.

‘You think what?’

‘I think taking on your mum was a noble thing to do.’ Gina sighed. ‘But I’ve known you since primary school and you and your mum were never close. She wasn’t that type of mum, was she? Not the sort of cuddly, make-it-all-better mum.’

Jacks shook her head. ‘I suppose not, no.’ Gina was right. Ida had never been the kind of mum to invite Jacks’ friends home for tea, or make her room cosy or put her arms around her after a crappy day and tell her everything would be okay.

‘And you’re being the best daughter you can be, I know that, but you’re going above and beyond. You’re knocking yourself out every day and it would be better for her and for you if she was somewhere she could get twenty-four-hour care. Then you could get your life back and Martha could get her room back. It’s important.’

‘I know it’s important, G! Do you think I don’t?’ She sniffed back her tears; she wasn’t going to cry, not there on the train, in public, and not after having so carefully put on mascara and eyeliner. She didn’t want to arrive at the Boat Show looking like a soggy panda.

‘Of course you know, but you’re my best mate, Jacks, and watching you run yourself into the ground is horrible. It’s like you’re serving out a sentence. But it doesn’t need to be like that. Ida doesn’t know whether it’s bed time or the January sales, she is in her own little world. It makes no difference to her who cuts up her food or helps her in the shower, but it would make a huge difference to you and the kids.’

‘Actually, G, it makes a huge difference. She can get very flustered if I’m not there.’ Jacks hated having to explain.

‘But she didn’t this morning, did she? Maybe when you tried before, when everything was a bit new and strange, that was the case, but now she’s not as with it as she was, maybe things might be different? She’s slipped quite a lot in the last eighteen months.’

‘I know. But I made a promise, a promise to my dad.’

‘Jacks, I’ve told you what your dad would think. And not only that, he was very poorly, whacked out on painkillers when he died.’

Jacks shook her head, trying to erase those last moments on that dreadful day. She recalled the sound of his laboured breathing, the gap between each breath growing longer and longer, and her sense of confusion as she’d simultaneously prayed it was and wasn’t his last.

Gina continued. ‘He wouldn’t have been too aware of what he was saying. He might have meant look after her that day, or at his funeral. You don’t know what he meant, not really, not literally, but you’ve taken his words as some kind of law and it’s ruining your life!’

‘It’s not only what he said, it was the way he said it. And besides, this is a chance to…’

‘A chance to what? Get close to your mum?’

Jacks nodded and stared out of the window, hearing her mum’s words.
‘You can be selfish and selfish people are very hard to love…’

‘Can we please change the subject?’ she asked.

‘Sure. Tell me about Gideon Parks.’

‘Oh God, do I have to?’ Jacks raised her eyebrows.

‘Pete told Rob he was a smasher.’

‘Did he now?’ Jacks laughed at her husband’s summary. She could hear him saying it. ‘Truthfully, G, he is. I know you think I don’t like him, but it’s not that. He’s lovely, but he’s not what I want for Martha.’

Gina snorted. ‘Well, that might be too bad! What about what Martha wants for Martha?’

‘How can she know what she wants? She’s a baby! She might make a decision now that’ll haunt her for the rest of her life and it’ll be too late, she’ll be stuck.’

‘Are we still talking about Martha?’ Gina stared at her friend.

‘Tickets, please!’

‘Ooh! Here!’ Jacks panicked and held hers in the air.

Gina laughed loudly.

The two women wandered along the busy platform at Paddington, marvelling at the station’s grand metal roof.

‘Isn’t this beautiful, G?’ Jacks looked skyward.

‘Course it is. Designed by old Isambard Kingdom Brunel, who also designed our very own Clifton Suspension Bridge. Come on, West Country!’ Gina shouted.

‘Did he help design the Leaning Tower of Pisa by any chance?’

‘Don’t think so. Why?’

‘No reason.’ Jacks smiled and thought about Jonty. ‘Actually, Gina, I could do with nipping to the loo.’

They navigated the crowds, ducking to avoid the wonky-legged pigeons that homed in on anyone eating food, and made their way to the toilets on the other side of Platform 12. Gina stared at the turnstile barring her entry.

‘Thirty pence for a wee? Are you kidding me?’ she asked at a volume that caused stares. ‘I’d rather wait till we get back to Weston and go for free!’

A businesswoman in a suit walked around the giggling pair and deposited her change in the slot.

‘Jeez!’ Gina wasn’t done. ‘This is daylight robbery! I don’t earn enough to wee in this city! Come on, you’ll just have to cross your legs.’ She took Jacks by the arm and marched her away.

‘I love London!’ Gina shouted as they stepped on to the escalator down to the Tube.

‘I’m a bit scared of the Underground,’ Jacks confessed as they queued for their one-day travelcards.

‘Why?’

‘I dunno.’ Jacks fidgeted with her scarf. ‘Apart from the fact that I might wet myself, I suppose cos it’s so busy and I always think I’m going to get lost or pushed on to the track!’

Gina laughed loudly, then removed her friend’s pashmina and used it to tie their wrists together. ‘There. Now you can’t get lost. You are tied to me and if you go over the edge, we go together. Happy?’

Jacks giggled at her mate. ‘Happier,’ she admitted, raising their joined wrists. ‘I feel like a toddler!’

‘Don’t talk to any strangers!’ Gina yelled, much to the amusement of everyone else in the queue.

The two made their way across town from Paddington, first heading east on the District Line and then changing to the Docklands Light Railway. The women were fascinated by the crowds of people huddled together in such an enclosed space; they made a plan in case they got separated.

The closer they got to the exhibition centre, the sicker Jacks felt. She placed her hand on her stomach and exhaled. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘No you’re not! I will not let you go in there smelling of sick. You are going to be fine and confident and cool and you are going to march up to him and say casually, “Well I never, Brains! Fancy seeing you here!” or something less crap, but make it sound as though you are just bumping into him, okay?’

Jacks giggled. ‘As if I’d just bump into him! I never go anywhere like this!’

‘But he doesn’t know that, does he?’ Gina squealed.

‘I’m not sure I want to see him, not now. Can we just not go in?’

‘No! We are going in. This is one of those things that might make you feel like pants before you do it, but afterwards you’ll be really glad you did. You just need to dig deep and find the courage, like diving off the high board.’

‘I never dived off the high board. I never got the confidence.’ Jacks looked at her friend.

‘Well, you should have, it was brilliant. And this is going to be brilliant too. Just go for it. You’ll be okay.’

Jacks nodded, feeling far from okay. ‘I feel like I did at the school disco, waiting for someone to ask me to dance, clinging to the wall while they played Dr Hook, trying to be invisible while you snogged the face off Richard Frost.’

Gina stared at her friend. ‘Are you stark, staring mad? What are you on about? Urgh! Richard Frost? I never did!’

‘You did so! I saw you!’

‘Have you seen him recently? He runs the arcade on the pier.’ Gina shuddered. ‘I mean, he’s nice looking in an Elvis kind of way, but the worst bloke to get off with in the world! Like snogging a double-mouthed octopus! Not that I would know, because I never kissed him.’ She coughed to clear her throat.

‘Just think, G, if you’d stuck with him, you could have had free rides on the waltzers whenever you wanted, you’d have saved yourself a fortune!’ Jacks laughed, forgetting her guilt, enjoying herself.

They joined the end of a snaking queue.

‘Oh God, I mean it, I really don’t want to go in!’ Jacks gripped Gina’s arm.

‘Well, you are going in. I shall make you. So that’s your choice: you either stroll in and look confident or I’ll sling you over my shoulder and deliver you, fat arse first, on to his big posh boat, dumping you like a bag of eels. Which would you prefer?’

Once again Jacks was giggling. ‘Stop it, G! You know I need the loo!’

‘Anyway, if you feel nervous, just think of those horrible hand-knitted jumpers that he used to wear. He looked like a right plonker!’

‘Yeah, a right plonker who left Weston and has this amazing life! Bet he spends hours wishing he’d had a shop-bought jumper like everyone else and was now running the arcade on the pier like Richard Frost who you snogged the face off!’

‘Shut up! I never did!’ Gina shouted a little too loudly.

Both women collapsed against each other in giggles, for the second time that day, drawing stares from those around them in the queue.

The exhibition hall was much bigger than Jacks had imagined. Vast and echoey, with rows and rows of stands staffed by yachting types who all seemed to be sporting tanned faces and forearms with pale-coloured jumpers draped over their shoulders. They spoke loudly and confidently and seemed to know each other, gesturing and shouting over the heads of the throng. She felt as far out of her depth as it was possible to feel.

‘Right, this is where we split up. You go find lover boy.’

‘Please don’t call him that!’ Jacks glanced over her shoulder, although she had to admit that the chances of bumping into any of Pete’s work colleagues from the building site were pretty slim.

Gina laughed. ‘I’m only teasing you. You go find Brains and I’ll be in the bar in the middle. I’ll wait for you, no rush. Come there when you’re ready, okay?’

Jacks nodded. She felt sick and scared. Pulling at her T-shirt front, she smoothed invisible creases from it and adjusted her pashmina before wiping the sweat from her hands on the front of her jeans and swiping a finger under her nose.

‘You look lovely, mate. You really do. Be confident, be sexy and kick ass!’

‘Who do you think I am? Angelina Jolie? I’m Jacqueline Davies from Weston. I don’t do sexy or kick ass, I gather up the dirty washing and cook the tea!’

‘Go!’ Gina patted her friend’s bum as she half shoved her into the crowd.

Jacks studied the little map in her hand. ‘L34,’ she repeated out loud as she wandered up and down the similar-looking aisles. Stalls demonstrating the latest nautical navigation aids and others selling everything from deck shoes to life vests were packed side by side. Jacks wandered aimlessly, trying to get her bearings, only realising she was retracing her steps when something she had already passed caught her eye.

‘Shit,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘Need any help?’ A confident-looking boy in a pale blue Boat Show polo shirt was grinning at her and waving his clipboard.

‘Thanks, my love. I’m looking for L34, can’t seem to make head nor tail of this little map thing!’

‘Ooo arr, me hearties! You sound like a pirate. I love it!’

‘Sorry?’

‘Your voice! You’ve got a pirate accent!’

Jacks stared at the boy. It wasn’t a plum he had in his gob but rather the whole tree. She thought of what Pete would say:
‘And you sound like a proper knob.’
Jacks smiled and marched forward. Confidence stirred in her stomach. Pirate indeed!

With her head held high, she scanned the white signs above each exhibit, eventually reaching a large enclosure housing a vast yacht, marked off with a cordon of thick, royal-blue rope set into shiny chrome stands – the kind she had seen at film premieres on the telly. The whole thing shone under a canopy of twinkling spotlights.

‘L34,’ she whispered. She folded the map into her handbag and took a deep breath. For the first time she noticed all the pretty girls who were standing around, every one of them with long legs and long hair and wearing matching pink T-shirts and short white shorts. They held little silver trays filled with glasses of sparkling plonk and were handing them with a bobbed curtsey and a cute smile to the crowds of men gathered round the boat, all of whom seemed to be dressed in similar navy blazers and toffee-coloured chinos. Other girls had stacks of glossy brochures balanced in their arms, which they waved enticingly at visitors carrying plastic bags already straining under the weight of free booty.

Jacks had never been one for boats, despite having lived by the sea her whole life. Her maritime experience was limited to a quick circuit of the Marine Lake in Pete’s mate’s canoe every once in a while, but that was just to please Pete. Give her solid ground any day. This boat, however, was something else. Its sheer size was breathtaking. Her eyes counted fifteen shiny chrome-edged portholes along the hull and she wondered what lay within. She looked up on to the deck, where a clutch of shiny-haired people with toothpaste-white smiles raised glasses, trilled laughter and chatted. In that instant, something caught her eye. Her stomach dropped. She exhaled, her mouth dry as her hands shook.