Tangled Lives (21 page)

Richard rolled his eyes impatiently.

‘It’s just it’d be nice to have the place to ourselves for once.’

She moved to make room for a Camden Goth, smelling strongly of incense and resplendent in black fishnets, leather choker and purple dreads. ‘He hasn’t been in for most of this week, but you wouldn’t know that since you’ve been out too.’

‘I haven’t been “out”, I’ve been working.’

‘Same thing,’ she muttered and turned her back on him, taking her free evening paper out and pretending to read.

In the end neither Daniel nor Lucy was home. But she was too tired to have it out with Richard and, anyway, what was the point? She knew why he was behaving in this way. And she knew he would go on denying it. So they sat through a drearily silent meal of fishcakes and salad, each being carefully polite, if they talked at all, sticking to neutral subjects that were least likely to spark a row. Richard went to his study immediately after supper, and she sat in front of a tiresome, overheated television drama about a child murderer. She hoped that Daniel might come home early – she had hardly seen him all week.
When he wasn’t back by eleven and she was falling asleep on the sofa, she gave up and went to bed.

But she couldn’t sleep. Richard was snoring peacefully, but she was wide awake. She crept out of bed and made her way downstairs in her bare feet. She got a glass of water, and on her way out of the kitchen she noticed the light was shining under the television-room door. She walked towards it and heard low voices: Lucy and Daniel. She was just about to open the door, but for a moment she hesitated.

‘I went for a drink with this guy from work, and I thought we’d eat,’ she heard Lucy say. ‘But the tight-wad only bought me one solitary packet of cheese and onion crisps.’

‘Couldn’t you have bought some more yourself?’ She heard the amusement in her son’s voice.

‘Not the point. He earns way more than me. And it’s not like he’s the most thrilling company in the world.’

‘So you only love him for his cheese and onions?’

‘Something like that.’

Annie heard Lucy giggle. Was she a bit tipsy?

There was silence for a moment, and Annie was just about to move away when she heard her daughter’s voice again.

‘Seen the parents tonight?’

‘No, they must have gone to bed early.’

‘Probably to cut the arguing time.’

‘They do seem to bicker a lot.’

‘Yeah, you got that right.’

‘I’m sure you hate it, but it’s better than my parents. Mum used to do her damnedest to pick a fight with Dad over something trivial, but he just refused to react. He’d give her the superior, silent treatment, as if she was an annoying child, then walk out of the room … then she’d cry for hours.’

Annie felt suddenly guilty, eavesdropping on this personal stuff that Daniel obviously hadn’t wanted to share with her. She began to tiptoe away when she heard Lucy go on.

‘I think both are just as horrible. Mum and Dad didn’t used to fight at all, ever.’

‘I hope it’s not my fault.’

Annie heard the edge of worry in his voice.

‘It’s never anyone else’s fault. People argue about stupid things – like your parents did – because they can’t talk about what’s really winding them up.’

There was another silence on the other side of the door.

‘Mum loves you being here. Finding you has been one of the best things that ever happened to her, Daniel.’

‘And your father?’

Annie waited for her daughter to reply, silently thanking her for telling Daniel how much he meant to her.

‘Dad’s never been one for the unexpected.’

‘Mine’s the same. A real dyed in the wool … traditionalist.’

He makes the word “traditionalist” sound like a dirty word, Annie thought.

‘Families, eh? They’re all the same,’ Lucy said. ‘Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without ’em.’

There was the sound of movement. Annie hurried away up the stairs. The last thing she heard, as the door opened and light flooded the corridor, was Lucy saying, ‘I’m off to bed. Sleep well.’ And Daniel replying, ‘’Night, Lucy. And you.’

14

‘Yes?’

‘You always sound so cross when you answer your phone,’ Charles said.

‘Only to you.’ He was the last person Annie wanted to hear from. She reluctantly tore herself away from the screen in front of her, where she was doing a lengthy invoice. Jodie was out getting a coffee.

‘That’s a bit brutal.’ Charles put on a wounded voice.

‘Sorry, but I’m really busy, and not in the mood for another will-I-won’t-I-see-my-son discussion right now.’

‘Whoa … you certainly got out of bed on the wrong side.’

‘Charles,’ she ignored his comment, ‘I’m really getting to know Daniel, now he’s staying with us. And I’m loving it. But it’s made me realise how insulting your position is. He’s your son. So see him or don’t, I really don’t care any more what your problems are on that score. But make
your bloody mind up about it once and for all so he knows where he is.’

‘Blimey …’ Charles was laughing now. ‘That’s telling me. Well, you can stop berating me, Annie, because that’s why I phoned. I’d like to arrange a meeting.’

The wind was taken out of her sails. ‘Oh, good. What changed your mind? Or your wife’s?’

There was a short hesitation. ‘I haven’t actually told Louisa.’

‘For God’s sake, Charles!’

‘I know, I know. But she’s away for a few weeks in the French house, and I thought … if I saw him … I could say it happened by accident or something. And when the deed is done, she’ll probably be fine about it. She’s better with reality.’

‘Sounds like quite the reverse to me, but you should know,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it’s not my business – as long as Daniel doesn’t get hurt. He’s been abandoned once, Charles, and we can’t know how that’s really affected him. You must be very clear about what you’re prepared to do. Don’t make him any promises you can’t keep.’

‘You’re making him sound like a neurotic five-year-old. Can I still change my mind?’ She didn’t respond. ‘OK … joking.’

‘Right …’ She heard Jodie coming back with the coffee. ‘Let’s do it then. What about this Thursday?’

There was silence at the other end of the phone. Then, ‘Thursday it is.’

‘OK, I’ll check with Daniel and get back to you. You choose the venue.’ She wanted to get him off the phone before he changed his mind.

‘Fine by me. Talk later,’ Charles agreed.

Annie and Jamie sat in the upstairs bar in the Curzon Soho, waiting for the start of the sci-fi film Jamie had booked tickets for. Jamie was obsessed with science fiction, about which she knew nothing.

‘Not sure why I let you persuade me into this,’ she muttered, sucking her organic apple juice through a straw.

‘Come on, you’ll love it! Sci-fi’s still drama, just in a different milieu. Once you’ve accepted that, it carries you along like any narrative, but it has this other, magical dimension. That’s what makes it so compelling.’

‘But all the sci-fi I’ve seen just seems so stupid and unbelievable.’

Jamie’s eyes widened at her sacrilege. ‘You’ve never seen the good stuff though, have you? It
is
fantasy, but that doesn’t make it unbelievable. There is a distinction.’ His tone was indignant.

‘OK, OK … I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘So catch me up on the goss.’ His eyes twinkled expectantly until she said nothing, when he looked at her face more closely.

‘Annie?’

She pulled a face, irritation boiling up inside her. ‘Shall
I tell you what’s up? Men, is what’s up. I’m like a wagon being circled by the Sioux and it’s bloody stressful.’

‘O-ka-ay … you say “men” in the plural.’

‘Oh, yes. There’s more than one.’ She held up her hand to Jamie, her index finger pointing upwards. ‘One: that silly sod Carnegie has only just agreed – after weeks of prevaricating because of his demented wife – that he’ll see his son.’ Her middle finger joined the first one. ‘Two: my up-till-recently totally virtuous and supportive spouse is drinking like a fish, staying out late and may even be getting his leg over Kate-with-the-unreasonably-tanned-arms in the stationery cupboard.’ The third finger leapt up. ‘Three: my dear son Edward is treating me like I’m Judas Iscariot making off with the silver.’ Her indignation ran out, but she slowly brought her fourth finger alongside the rest. ‘Four: and this isn’t Daniel’s fault … but having him in the house is stressful, viz. points two and three already stated.’ And with that she burst into stifled tears.

Jamie rested his hand gently on her shoulder. When she finally focused on his face, he looked torn between laughter and concern.

‘Things do sound a little fraught.’

‘You always were master of the understatement.’

‘Hmm … maybe we should focus on number three.’

Annie sighed. ‘Three? Must we?’

‘Seriously, darling. Who is this tanned Kate person? Surely Richard isn’t playing away? I find it hard to believe.’

‘Well, so do I. But she’s pretty and young and, well,
there
… working with him day in, day out – maybe night in, night out.’

‘But has he mentioned her … significantly?’

She shook her head, reaching into her bag for a tissue. ‘He hasn’t mentioned her at all.’

‘And you’ve asked him.’

She sighed. ‘Of course not. Richard would never cheat on me, we both know that. Stop looking at me like that, will you.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like I’ve just told you I’ve got an inoperable brain tumour.’

‘Sorry, but I can’t work out how serious you are about Richard and this girl.’ He paused. ‘You know there’s no such thing as a man who would
never
cheat, Annie? Only some who probably wouldn’t.’

Annie stared at him. ‘You’re such a cynic, Jamie.’ It had been a throwaway line, the remark she’d made about Richard and his young colleague. But now she saw Jamie’s expression, she felt a stab of concern. Was that what was going on? Was Richard getting revenge by having an affair?

‘I’m bloody angry with him, Jamie. He’s not playing fair, even if he’s not cheating. We can’t seem to have a conversation these days without fighting.’ She remembered Lucy’s conversation with Daniel a couple of nights back; she wasn’t exaggerating.

‘Be patient. It’ll come right in the end.’ Jamie patted her hand.

‘You’re sure about that, are you?’ She blew her nose again. ‘Because my family is the most important thing in my life. Cakes you can do without. Family you can’t.’

Jamie looked at his watch. ‘We should go down, it starts in about five. If you’re still up for it, that is. I’m easy. But it might take your mind off the Sioux.’

She grinned feebly. ‘Bring it on.’

They wandered down the stairs to the basement level and took their places amongst the sci-fi ‘anoraks’ in the crowded theatre.

‘So when’s Daniel meeting his father?’ Jamie asked when they were seated.

‘Tomorrow,’ she said. ‘And then me and Richard have to go to bloody Cornwall on Friday.’

She hadn’t meant to whinge to Jamie, but there was a baffling emptiness at her core. She’d dreamed so often of meeting Daniel again. She’d known it would be complicated – Marjory certainly warned her. But she was facing problems she’d never envisaged, problems she didn’t know how to address.

That Friday, Lucy sat on her mother’s bed, watching her pack.

Annie stopped folding her sweater and looked over at her. ‘You’ll be OK while we’re away?’ she asked, but her mind was elsewhere, on the meeting the previous evening between Daniel and Charles.

Lucy laughed. ‘Yeah, Mum. I’ll be just fine, seeing as I’m a fully functioning, competent, even reasonably sane twenty-two-year-old. And you’ll only be away for three nights.’

‘Just checking. Daniel …’

‘And Daniel – for similar reasons – will be absolutely fine too.’

‘So I can relax?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Well, I doubt you’ll do that, Mum. But put it this way: don’t fret on our account.’

‘Try not to,’ Annie said with a laugh.

‘I’m envious. St Mawes is awesome. Remember that holiday we had when I was about nine? We swam every day in that bay, out to the blue raft.’

‘It was freezing in fact, but you didn’t seem to notice.’ Annie paused. ‘I wish we didn’t have to go. It’s not that I don’t want to be there for Enid, but there’s just so much going on. Still, nothing I can do about it. Only typhoid or a tsunami could save me now.’

‘Bags not get the typhoid,’ Lucy replied, which made Annie smile.

Two days of back-to-back socialising with people Annie hardly knew had taken its toll. Even between being present at the scheduled events for Cousin Enid – such as the Friday drinks party, the big birthday lunch on the Saturday or the final supper for the stragglers on Sunday night – they were ambushed by one or other of her enthusiastic
entourage (who peppered the Cornish seaside town from end to end) and required to explain Richard’s family tree and his relationship to his cousin yet one more time. Enid herself was tireless. She still swam in the sea every day from May till October, her energy and drive the stuff of local legend, and hardly stopped talking, thrilled to see her guests gathered around her, perhaps for the last time in such numbers.

But the real the strain for Annie was the tacit truce she and Richard had called on all things relating to Daniel. It’s what we needed, she told herself, as she smiled and smiled and smiled. Just to reconnect with normal things. But the tension sat like an unexploded bomb between them.

‘I’m going to get some air,’ she whispered to Richard as supper finished on their last evening.

‘Wait, I’m coming too.’ He looked panic-stricken that she would think of abandoning him. They scuttled out of the restaurant and walked to the end of the promenade, turning off the road onto the concrete slope leading down to the beach. Benches sat at intervals on the incline, looking out to sea; at this time of night they were all empty.

It’s like something out of a fairy tale, she thought, as they settled on the middle bench in silence. So romantic, I wish I could enjoy it more. A full moon, its nimbus glowing like a huge halo, washed the bay in silvery light. The sea swelled softly, hardly a breeze disturbing the black water, the foam of the breaking surf picked out brightly
in the moon’s rays. On the cliffs to the left you could just see the beam from St Anthony’s lighthouse, and across the bay Falmouth beckoned with rows of twinkling lights. She heard Richard sigh. It was a slow, sad sound.