Skeletons (14 page)

‘Well, then, I’ll come and keep you company,’ Elaine had said, still beaming.

By the time they’d left, about an hour later, Jen had felt a righteous glow of having done the right thing. It was that easy.

Walking along Charlotte Street on Tuesday morning, she put her head down as she passed Masterson Property, just in case it was one of those days when Charles had decided to check up on his empire. Safely past, she let out the breath she
hadn’t even realized she had been holding on to.

She was behind the desk, congratulating herself silently on having crossed the bridge without the troll catching her, and trying to concentrate on allocating suites for the following weekend (when two equally big stars – one an actor, one a
musician – were checking in at the same time, and both their entourages had demanded they be given the best room), when a familiar voice startled her.

‘Jen …’

She looked up, and there he was, standing right in front of her.

‘Charles. What are you doing here?’

He smiled. It seemed like a genuine smile, a friendly, hopeful smile. Certainly not the smile of someone who was hoping to silence her by chopping her up into very small pieces and distributing her across the gardens of some of the most
prestigious properties in Central London. ‘I was walking past, so I thought I’d drop in on the
off-chance you had time for a coffee. We missed you on Sunday.’

‘Oh. I’m on an early, so I’ve already had my break.’

This was a lie. She had actually come in late. She shot a look at Neil, willing him not to contradict her, but he was absorbed in something and didn’t even seem to have heard. She was thankful he was there, though, so there was no chance of
her and Charles having to have any kind of heart to heart.

Charles pulled a mock sad face. ‘Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to wait for the weekend to catch up with my favourite daughter-in-law.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Jen said, forcing a smile.

‘It wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t,’ Charles said, with what seemed to be a twinkle in his eyes. It was impressive, the way he could pull it off. Still be Charles without really being Charles at all. Without ever
having been, come to that.

He looked tired around the edges, though. She could see why Poppy was concerned about him. There were dark rings under his eyes.

‘Have a good week,’ he said, waving goodbye as he went.

‘My wife says your father-in-law’s a fox. She keeps telling me I should ask for his autograph,’ Neil said, once Charles was out of sight.

‘He wouldn’t mind,’ she said, knowing Charles would love it. He was nowhere near famous enough for an incessant flood of autograph hunters to have made signing anything a chore, and he still got an obvious thrill from being
recognized.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she went out the back and got her phone out of her bag –

I hope your mum is still recovering OK.

– she texted, and then she pressed delete, quickly, before she could change her mind.

The corridors of King’s were starting to feel like home, Cass had spent so much time there. Luckily, Masterson’s was being completely cool about her having as much time off as she needed. She was keeping her hand in, anyway, huddling
outside by the front doors with the smokers, phoning her clients, checking up on how things were. She had had to clarify with her dad first that he wasn’t going to say anything to anyone at work about a close friend having had an accident, because that would have been a bit of a
giveaway. Of course he wasn’t. He had never publicly acknowledged Barbara in more than twenty-five years, so why would he start now?

He was cut up about it, though, she could tell. She had wondered in the past whether he had only stayed on friendly terms with her mum to stop her from blabbing his secret. Keep your enemies close, and all that. But, if any good had come out of
what had happened, it was that she now knew that he cared. He turned up at the hospital whenever he could, even if he could only stay for a few minutes each time.

The first time she had met him outside, and he had been clutching a bunch of flowers that she had had to break to him he would have to leave in the car or chuck away before he could go in. He had pulled her to him and, despite everything that was
going on, she had relaxed
completely in his embrace for a few seconds. She couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged her like that. Their relationship since she had become an adult – well, since he and her mum had split up – had become so
spiky and testy that if he’d ever even tried to embrace her she probably would have pushed him away most of the time.

‘She’s doing OK,’ she had said when they’d broken off.

‘Thank God. I got here as soon as I could.’

‘Sorry I had to ring you. I didn’t know what else to do.’

‘Don’t be silly, sweetheart. It was the right thing, of course it was. Apart from anything else, you shouldn’t have to be going through this on your own.’

He’d reminded her so much of the dad he’d been when she was growing up then. Strong and kind. Able to make her feel safe and protected. The thought that she might lose her mum – even though that had dissipated as soon as she’d
got to the hospital and seen the consultant, who had assured her that Barbara’s injuries, while bad, weren’t life threatening – had terrified her. Her two aunts – her mother’s sisters – had made it clear to Barbara long ago that they disapproved of her relationship with a
man who was not only a husband already but a father too. They had refused to visit while she lived in the house he paid for. Barbara, in turn, had announced she wouldn’t go to see them until they would accept her partner. The stalemate had meant that their contact had gradually
dwindled, their closeness fractured. It had never recovered. Even when Barbara and Charles had separated, she had steadfastly refused to get back in touch. They had shown their true colours. Consequently, Cass had never even met them.

Beyond the aunts and their children – whose names she
only knew through other, more distant relations with whom Barbara still exchanged Christmas cards – there was only her dad.

He’d followed her through the labyrinthine sour-smelling corridors to the side ward where her mum was already recovering from the first of what would turn out to be several operations. And then he’d sat there and held her hand while
they’d waited for Barbara to wake up.

It didn’t feel like the kind of thing you ought to admit to, but it had brought them closer.

Some of the nursing staff had been a bit twittery and overexcited when they’d recognized him. Not that they were unprofessional enough to let it show; you could just see it in their eyes. Charles had retained sufficient presence of mind to
introduce himself as Cass’s godfather, an old and dear family friend, and they had taken him on face value, because why wouldn’t they? That had hurt a bit. She understood why he had had to, of course, but she couldn’t help wishing it hadn’t come so naturally.

Still, she had told herself, he was there. That was really all that mattered.

Now her mum was most definitely on the road to recovery. She would have to stay in hospital for a while yet. There were still more operations to come, with pins and rods and God knows what else. But she was not in danger. The accident had made
Cass think, though. Anything could happen. You could lose your family in a moment. A flash. One day they were there, and then nothing. Gone.

She had called Jen on instinct. She’d felt she had a right to know what was happening, that she might be curious
or worried. Or maybe just eager to hear that the drama was over, that
Charles’s attention could refocus on his real family. She’d got the impression Jen had been keen to get off the phone, though. She had probably thought she’d never hear from her again. Swept her back under the carpet where she belonged.

Neil was checking the rooms list. Jen watched his finger move slowly down the printout, stopping on every line, hovering for a moment and then beginning its agonizingly arduous journey southwards again. It was like this every time. A job that
should have been a cursory glance at a computer screen to check the status of guests coming and going became a full-blown production in his hands. She watched, fascinated. She could never work out whether he was doing it to waste time – which really wasn’t Neil’s style – or just
because he liked to be thorough. Either way, she had to fight the urge to rip the piece of paper from his hands and throw it in the bin.

‘Hold 401 and 403 for the Clancys,’ she said, referring to a family of parents and two children who wanted rooms next to each other, if possible.

‘I’m just checking it.’

‘I’ve gone through the list. It’s fine.’

The finger was still poised, hovering. ‘I want to have a back-up plan.’

‘Neil, the hotel’s half empty tonight. There’s not going to be a run on double rooms before they get here.’

‘You never know,’ Neil said. Jen knew that, one day, Neil’s over-attention to detail would probably see him save the day in some kind of emergency. He would be hailed a hero and complimented for his meticulous work
ethic. Meanwhile, the rest of the reception staff would have developed twitches.

The phone rang and she left him to it, thankful for the diversion.

‘Fitzrovia Hotel.’

‘Ah,’ a voice she recognized said. ‘Is that Ms Jennifer Masterson or Ms Judy Sampson?’

Jen felt her mood lift a little. She glanced in one of the mirrored tiles behind reception and gave herself a quick once-over, patting down a rogue spiral of hair without even realizing she was doing it.

‘It’s Jen … nifer.’

The hotel insisted on full names on all the staff name badges, so Jen had had to accept that any of the guests who took the trouble to learn her name would use the hated long version.

‘Morning, Mr Hoskins, how are you today?’

‘I’m well. And it’s Sean. I hate Mr Hoskins. That was the name of my PE teacher and, well, you know … there have been years of therapy, that’s all I’m saying.’

Jen laughed. ‘Well, in that case, it’s Jen. I hate Jennifer. No reason. I just do.’

‘Good, I’m glad we got that sorted. How are you? How’s the faithless father-in-law?’

Jen shot a glance at Neil. There was no way he could hear Sean’s end of the conversation.

‘Oh, that,’ she said, as lightly as she could. ‘That’s got even weirder, actually.’

‘You’re kidding? What? Prostitutes? Animals? Oh, wait, I know … ladyboys?’

‘None of the above.’

‘Don’t tell me … vegetables? Or kitchen utensils?’

‘Not so far as I know. Now, what can I do for you?’

She knew she really shouldn’t have this conversation now. Not while Neil was right beside her.

‘I want to book in for a few days. Hold on, I’ve got the dates …’

When she got off the phone, Neil was still painstakingly studying the rooms list.

‘I’m putting Sean Hoskins in room 328 from next Sunday,’ she said, just to wind Neil up.

The only reason she answered the phone when it rang this time was because she was distracted. She was pottering happily around the kitchen, fixing dinner. She was looking forward to seeing Sean again, she had realized on the way home. It was
actually quite cathartic to be able to make light of her situation with someone, even if he didn’t know the half of it. Just to exchange an uncomplicated bit of chat with no hidden subtext or mines to avoid.

Jason had taken a glass of wine upstairs with him to have a bath. Jen could hear the radio on up there. Soon he would start singing along to Absolute 80s. She found the same station. Sang along herself, even though she had a voice that she had
always thought sounded like an ailing walrus.

She picked up her mobile and answered without even checking to see who was there.

‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Jen.’

She recognized the voice immediately. Took the phone away from her ear to check the name. Cass.

Cass sounded relaxed. ‘How are you?’

Jen turned the radio down, lowered her voice, even though she could still hear music coming from the bathroom.

‘Um … I’m fine. How are you? Is your mum still OK?’

‘Is this a good time? Can you talk?’

For some reason, this question made Jen nervous. ‘Not really. Well, for a minute … Jason’s upstairs.’

‘She’s still progressing. One step at a time and all that shit. Literally, in her case, actually.’

‘Right … thank goodness …’ She didn’t know what else she was expected to say, so she just waited.

‘It’s taken its toll on Dad, though, don’t you think? He’s aged.’

She didn’t have time for this. ‘I think Jason’s going to be down in a minute –’

‘Of course. Sorry. He’s why I’m phoning, actually. Him and Poppy and Jessie.’

Jen put her hand on the table to steady herself. Somehow, she knew she wasn’t going to like what came next.

‘Mum being so ill has made me realize how on my own I am. If anything happens to her … well, you know what that feels like. And what if it was Dad who got sick? I wouldn’t even know. He could be dying, and no one would tell
me.’

‘I’d contact you. Of course I would,’ Jen said weakly.

Cass ignored her. ‘And so I’ve made a decision. I need to get to know my family. I have three half-siblings. I think I want to … I’ve got a right to meet them.’

Jen felt her face go hot. She sat down. ‘No, Cass … I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Why? Because it might upset Amelia? That’s why I’m talking to you. She wouldn’t even have to find out. You could tell the three of them about me, and we’ll take it from
there.’

‘No way. If you want to be a part of Charles’s family, then talk to Charles. I don’t think anyone’s going to thank me for getting involved.’

‘You know he’ll never say yes. He’ll just be terrified his world is going to come crumbling down. And, besides, you involved yourself, remember? I’m not the one who made contact. I’m not the one who texted after we
met.’

Jen breathed in deeply to try to calm herself. It didn’t really work. ‘I just wanted to know what Charles was up to.’

‘Which was also nothing to do with you. Either you’re a part of their family or you’re not, Jen. Either you’re involved or you’re not, already. You can’t have it both ways.’

‘And what about your dad? How’s he going to feel, if you break up his family?’

‘Like I said, I won’t. Not if we handle it properly. Not if you explain to Jason –’

‘You don’t think he’d go straight to Charles and demand to know the truth?’

‘He won’t need to know it’s come from me. You could tell him you’d found out some other way …’

Jen could hear Jason stomping around upstairs. He’d be down in a few minutes, smelling of limes and basil.

‘You know where they are. If you want to meet them, I can’t stop you.’

‘But you can pave the way. Please, Jen, think about it. Would it be better for Jason for me just to jump out from behind a tree, shouting, “Surprise, I’m your little sister!” or
for you to break the idea to him gently?’

‘I can’t talk about this now.’

‘OK. I’m not trying to make trouble. I just need a family. Same as you.’

Jason was thundering down the stairs, whistling to himself.

‘I have to go. I’ll call you.’

‘Thank y—’ Cass started to say, but Jen cut her off.

By the time Jason breezed into the kitchen, Jen was chopping tomatoes to make a pasta sauce. She tried not to let him notice that her hands were shaking.

‘I think I should go and see Mum again on Sunday,’ Jen said later, when she and Jason were settled on the sofa, glasses of wine in hand.

‘We went last week,’ he said, more bemused than anything.

Jen rarely, if ever, suggested spending any more time with her mum than she had to. A combination of her feeling as if she really ought to make more of an effort, and the fact that Riverdale no longer felt like home, had shifted her perspective,
though.

‘I know,’ she said, on the defensive already. ‘But we went to Charles and Amelia’s five weekends in a row before that.’

‘I thought you wanted to. You usually do.’

‘It’s not about what I prefer. I just feel like Mum’s getting older suddenly and I should do my duty, that’s all.’

‘Let’s go the following weekend, then. I’ve told them we’ll be there now. Jessie and Martin might be coming.’

‘You should have checked with me first. I’ve told my mum we’ll go already.’

This was yet another lie – she was getting adept at this, a skill she had never wanted to acquire. Something to put on her CV, maybe, she thought, if she ever decided on her dream job – ‘Special skills: fibbing and bullshitting’ – but
suddenly it annoyed her that Jason had just agreed for them both to spend Sunday at his parents’ without consulting her. Obviously, this hadn’t bothered her in the slightest for the past twenty years, but she had decided to take offence now.

‘Right …’ Jason said slowly.

For some reason, this irritated Jen beyond belief. Her light mood of an hour ago completely evaporated.

‘What? Right, what?’

‘Nothing. I’m just surprised.’

‘I just decided it wasn’t fair, that’s all. We spend five weekends out of six with your parents.’

‘Because that’s what you’ve always wanted …’

His weary patience was starting to drive her crazy. She knew the way it would go. Jason would acquiesce to her demands, but with a kind of quiet resentment that he would deny if questioned. They would be a little bit touchy with each other for a
day or so, but then everything would be back to normal – Jen and Jason, so grown up and committed that they almost never fought. She used to think this was a good thing, for some reason. A sign of their compatibility. They had been parents for twenty of their twenty-two years together. They
had put the girls first,
had a policy never to argue in front of them. It had worked so well that she was starting to wonder if, perhaps, they had forgotten how to fight at all.

‘Forget about it. I’ll go on my own.’

‘What’ll I tell Mum and Dad?’

‘That I’ve gone to see my own mother. What’s the big deal?’

‘Couldn’t you go to Elaine’s on Saturday? And then we can still do mine on Sunday.’

‘I’m not going to spend both of my two precious days off doing family stuff. There’s no way. I’m going to my mother’s on Sunday, and you can either come with me or not. It’s up to you.’

Jason sighed. ‘OK. I’ll ring Dad.’

The relief was immense, but even as she was celebrating her victory, she was feeling irritated that he had given in so easily. She found herself thinking, Stand up for yourself. If you think I’m in the wrong, then fight back. What’s
the worst that can happen?

They spent the evening watching TV in silence. Jen wanted to break it, wanted to tell Jason what was going on in her life – the reasons why she couldn’t face going to Twickenham this weekend, or any other – but she couldn’t, and she
didn’t know what else to say.

At one point, she snapped at him when he changed channels without warning.

‘Fuck’s sake, I was watching that.’

‘Sorry. You only had to say.’

‘I just did, didn’t I?’

She sat there fuming for a moment, and then realized
that the last thing she should be doing was taking out her anger and frustration about Cass on Jason.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘For biting your head off. Watch what you want.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said, turning back to the original channel and picking up the paper. ‘There’s nothing on, anyway.’

She kept waking up in a cold sweat. For a foggy moment she would wonder what was wrong, and then Cass’s voice would come crashing into her sharpening consciousness: ‘I’ve got a right to meet them.’ Jen would look over at
Jason, always sleeping peacefully, face down like a toddler, and wonder what she had started.

If she tried to think about it dispassionately, from the point of view of someone not connected to the family, she could easily understand Cass’s thinking. As Cass had pointed out herself, she was only a few years older than Simone. If Jen
put herself in Cass’s position, which wasn’t that much of a stretch, it wasn’t hard to see how scary the idea of being all alone in the world might be. She had avoided that path by grafting herself on to the Mastersons. Why shouldn’t Cass who, after all, had a much
more legitimate claim – to some of them, at least – than Jen, want to do the same?

But then she would always come back to the reality. What Cass thought might improve her life – the jury was totally out on this, by the way; Jen had no reason to believe that Jason, Poppy or Jessie would want to welcome her into the family, in
fact, quite the opposite – would potentially ruin five others. Six, if she included herself, because she would undoubtedly get caught up in the fallout. Not
Cass’s fault, admittedly. Jen knew that all the blame lay squarely with Charles. And
with Cass’s mum, obviously. But that didn’t make it OK. One wrong move wouldn’t cancel out the other.