The Mysterious Miss Mayhew (34 page)

‘Uh-huh,’ Hattie said, looking towards the gate, and Tom had to remind her about her manners and to say thank you for the ice cream. Fran waved the stilted thanks away and Tom wanted to kiss her, but felt inhibited by Hattie and the prospect of Steph reappearing.

When Steph did return, hands full of carrier bags, her path crossed with Fran’s.

‘Oh, are you going?’ she said. ‘You don’t need to. She doesn’t need to, does she, Hattie?’

Hattie made no reply and Tom saw Steph’s smile at that. He looked at the half-made ice-cream-carton caterpillar and the plank on the lawn, and it seemed like they belonged to a different world. Everything had changed now.  He remembered that look on Fran’s face when Steph had walked through the gate.

Steph settled herself in a chair, Hattie next to her, and arranged the bags. This was what she did best – the Lady Bountiful approach to motherhood. Each parcel offered to Hattie came with a commentary bigging herself up. ‘I had to go to a tiny shop on the outskirts of Milan to buy this,’ and, ‘I spent a lot of time persuading the designer to make this in a child’s version.’

Hattie, perhaps sensing that she was required to perform to some specific script, did not do her customary ripping at the paper, but picked delicately at Sellotape and tried to unknot ribbon.

‘Good girl,’ Steph said. ‘We’ll save the ribbon for your hair, shall we?’

Hattie nodded enthusiastically and Tom wanted to throw up. If he’d gone anywhere near Hattie with a ribbon she’d have done one of her karate moves on him.

He thought of Fran’s face again and picked up the pirate’s hat from the table and went into the house.

As he kept an eye on Hattie through the window, he got through to Fran’s voicemail. ‘Please believe me,’ he said, ‘I had no idea Steph was coming. Look, if you can, would you pop round after Hattie’s in bed? We can talk. Please.’

God, did he sound too desperate?

He went back to the garden and watched the great present-opening ceremony again. Hats, bangles, necklaces, a swimsuit, a T-shirt, a skirt with a frill, a glittery watch, a ceramic pot with a rose on top, some Italian sweets.

He could tell Hattie liked the hat and the sweets best, but there was a ‘Thank you, Mummy’ after each present. Steph took it as her due, while checking her phone.

He collected together all the wrapping paper and carried it to the recycling bin. When he returned, Hattie was wearing her hat, holding it on with one hand, while she struggled to get into the sweet packet. He took it from her, opened it and doled out a few bits of candy into her open hand.

‘Oh come on, Tom, don’t be so mean.’ Steph swiped the packet from him and poured a lot more sweets out.

‘She’s already had ice cream,’ he said, knowing as he did that he was coming over as Mr Grouch
vs
Ideal Mummy.

‘Oh listen to Daddy!’ Steph picked up one of the sweets
from Hattie’s hand and fed her it. ‘It’s a special occasion and it’s not going to do her any harm, Tom. Lighten up.’ She popped a sweet into her own mouth and the two of them did synchronised chewing which made him feel as if he was on the other side of a plate-glass window looking in.

‘Now, Hattie,’ Steph said, when she had stopped chewing, ‘why don’t you try the T-shirt on and the skirt?’ She pulled them out of the pile of presents. ‘Off you go and then come back and give us a twirl.’

With Hattie upstairs, Tom said, ‘Your sudden onrush of maternal love hasn’t got anything to do with the phone call the other night?’

Steph was collecting up the ribbon, winding it round her fingers. ‘Phone call?’

‘When I told you I wasn’t bothered what you do any more. Where I mentioned someone else?’

‘Oh, that phone call.’ She stopped winding the ribbon. ‘I must say, Tom, she’s quite young. How old is she?’

She could stuff her script. He didn’t reply.

‘And quite … individual too. Good hair. Did she ask you if you could remember those dresses the first time they were around?’

Hattie came back and Tom wanted to cry for her. She looked like a half-exploded sausage.

Steph tugged and smoothed at the clothes, trying to make everything look better. ‘And we can put your hair up too, darling.’ She selected a ribbon and started scraping Hattie’s hair up into a high ponytail.

Hattie took it all, enraptured by the attention.

‘There, look at you. Tom, isn’t she beautiful?’

What could he say? ‘No, she looks like a standard-issue Barbie doll’? He wanted to shout, ‘Stop it, stop using her like this.’ His frustration felt like a belt secured tightly round his chest.

‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.

There was a shift of her gaze to Hattie and then back to him. ‘Shall we tell Daddy?’ she said.

‘She’s staying here!’ Hattie shouted. ‘She’s going to see me at breakfast time and take me to school.’

‘We talked about it when you were in the kitchen just now, didn’t we, darling?’

He could say, ‘No, you are absolutely not staying here,’ but that look on Hattie’s face …

He was heading for the kitchen again.

Fran answered her phone this time. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘Did you get my message?’

‘I’m fine, Tom. And more worried about you. I could see the shock on your face.’

‘She’s doing it on purpose, Fran. I told her that I’d fallen
for someone when we last spoke on the phone. And Steph can’t bear to be beaten at anything – she’s turned up to have a look at you and try to ruin things. Hattie’s her weapon of choice.’ He checked on events in the garden. ‘And look … this is going to sound pathetic, but she’s managed to back me into a corner about where she’s staying. She got Hattie to agree to it first and … I just can’t have that fight now. Hattie’s beside herself with … excitement, happiness. God. It’ll just be the one night.’

Fran’s reply was a while coming. ‘I understand. She has you over a barrel. So, I have no visiting rights this evening?’

‘It would just get nasty.’

There was a sigh. ‘You’re right, and I’m not awfully keen on playing a part in “Two Women Fighting Over a Man”. I mean, I would fight for you, Tom, were there a knife-wielding maniac on your case, but not this nails and handbags thing.’

‘You’re too bloody nice, Fran. Have I told you that? And that I love you.’

‘Come and see me tomorrow after dropping off Hattie. Say it in person … No, show me in person.’

There were more endearments until he saw Steph coming towards the house with Hattie and he wound up the call.

Steph shivered dramatically as she walked in. ‘Getting a
bit cold out there. So, are you going to show me your bedroom, young lady?’

There was enthusiastic nodding and shouting from Hattie and she was pulling Steph by her hand towards the kitchen door. Too late for Tom to remove the designer clothes from the soft toys.

‘If you’re staying,’ he shouted after Steph, ‘you can help with bedtime.’

‘Of course,’ Steph said, slowing down her progress. ‘That would be lovely for me. Bathtime first and then we’ll snuggle up with a story.’

‘She has head lice,’ he shot back. ‘You’ll need to comb those out as well.’

It was the second time Steph’s poised demeanour had taken a hit and her hand went involuntarily to her own hair before she put her face back in order and said, cheerily, ‘Oh poor Hattie. Never mind. Mummy’s here to chase the horrible things away.’

Hattie curled into her mother’s body, luxuriating in the contact, and then Steph was chasing Hattie up the stairs, Hattie giggling and whooping.

Tom stood in the kitchen and felt as if the walls were coming in on him. He should be happy that, right now, Hattie was ecstatic – except if this was the
up
, how swift and bad would the
down
be?

Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut during that phone call?

He slowly went up the stairs, listening to the laughing and screeching, but stopped halfway and sat down. He was like the Grand Old Duke of York, neither up nor down, back in a state of limbo once again.

CHAPTER 48

Thursday 19 June

1) For something that started off as a joke, ‘Aunt F’ does the job. It makes me feel much older than Jamie, even though there is only a gnat’s wing dividing our ages.

2) If Edward Mawson were to give me a name, it would probably be ‘Aunt F-off’.

3) Having a small child put her hand in yours does weird things to your stomach and your tear ducts. Being ignored by that same child an hour later has the same effect.

4) What comes in through a side gate can kill a party quicker than someone peeing in the punch bowl (no idea where I got that phrase from, certainly not one of my mother’s).

5) First impressions can be the right ones. See Thursday 29 May. Point

6) It is to be doubted whether a person who needs to be
the centre of attention all the time is ever going to win prizes for Mother of the Year.

7) It is possible to look at the kind of woman the man you love, once loved, and wonder if you know him at all. Or perhaps you know the person he is now and not the one he was then.

8) Victoria and Steph may have been separated at birth – from any sense of decency and fair play.

9) The likelihood of Jamie and Natalie having had ‘words’ in the car on the way home is very high.

10) It is very hard to take a step back when you know someone has already broken the people you have come to love and, most probably, is going to have a go at breaking them again. And may even try messing up your life too.

CHAPTER 49

Just before Tom fell asleep, the little red numbers told him it was 01:30.

At 02:04, he was woken by a small finger jabbing his shoulder. Hattie was out of bed and sniffing as if she had either been crying or was about to.

‘What’s up, big girl?’ he asked, trying to jolly her along.

‘I went to see Mummy, but her door’s closed.’

What, she’s not doing twenty-four-hour parenting?

He sat up to let Hattie get in beside him. She was normally like a little hot-water bottle, but she felt cold, particularly her feet which she placed on his leg. She must have been out of bed for a while. He pictured her standing outside Steph’s bedroom door and put his arm around her. He clocked the fact that Gummy was in her right hand.

‘Going to tell me what you’re sad about?’ he asked, knowing roughly what it would be.

‘What if Mummy’s not in her room? What if she’s gone?’

‘She won’t be,’ he said, but the sniffing continued and she was starting to gulp. ‘Stay there,’ he told her and went to look out of the landing window. He came back, going via the bathroom to get some toilet paper. He handed it to her. ‘Mummy’s car is on the drive. She’s definitely in her room, asleep.’

‘She will be here in the morning, won’t she?’ Hattie was running her fingers over Gummy.

‘She’ll be here in the morning.’

‘Can she take me to school?’

‘Probably.’ Steph was not famous for her early-morning starts.

‘Can she stay for ever?’

‘We’ll talk about it another time, Hattie.’

Gummy was now in the palm of one hand, and she was stroking it with the fingers of her other one. ‘I want her to stay.’

‘Hattie, let’s go to sleep now. I’m tired, you’re tired. This is a visit, Hattie. A visit.’

The hand holding Gummy was straying to her mouth and he gently reached across and stilled its progress. ‘Have a snuggle up,’ he said, ‘and just enjoy having Mummy here, don’t think about anything else.’

How could you make a five-year-old understand that concept?

‘I want to snuggle up to Mummy.’

Steph had been here less than nine hours and had already supplanted him in Hattie’s affections. He was trying to take it on the chin, but by God it hurt.

He had continued to sit marooned on the stairs during bathtime and hair-washing and delousing, during story-time and tucking-in and felt utterly excluded. ‘Mummy will get my drink. Mummy will sit here while I go to sleep.’

Steph would tire of this very soon. Trouble was, what would she have wrecked before she left again?

*

When Tom woke up next, he could smell cooking. He went downstairs to a scene of domestic bliss. Steph, her hair in a ponytail, was frying pancakes. Hattie, with an identical ponytail, was sitting at the table eating them.

‘There you are, Daddy,’ Steph said. ‘Isn’t he a sleepyhead, Hattie?’

‘Look, look.’ Hattie held up her plate. ‘Pancakes.’

‘Do you want this one, Tom? It’s nearly done.’

‘No. Thank you.’

‘Oh dear! Daddy’s a bit growly this morning, isn’t he? Growl, growl.’ Hattie’s response to that was to giggle and it felt like an early-morning kick in the teeth. Up ten minutes and he was already irritated, particularly by the way Steph talked to Hattie as if her synapses were not yet connected.

‘Perhaps Daddy would like some coffee?’

Yes, that was irritating too – talking about him in the third person.

‘I’ll do it,’ he said.

‘You used to like me making your coffee.’

He had, he’d liked anything she did for him, to him, with him. He had been besotted and amazed that someone so out of his league would bend down from the heights and choose him.

He let her make his coffee – watching her move easily around the kitchen. Today she had on some jeans and a white T-shirt and managed to look sophisticated rather than as if she was off for a trip round B&Q.

When she turned off the heat under the frying pan, she retrieved a silver bangle from the table and slipped it back on her arm.

‘Here you are,’ she said after she had poured the coffee and as she walked away, she ruffled his hair. It was done so quickly, he couldn’t stop her.

‘You always had lovely hair, Tom. Doesn’t Daddy have lovely hair?’

Hattie had her mouth full, but nodded. He couldn’t take this at breakfast. He told her what time they had to leave and that they couldn’t be late because he had two meetings early on (only he knew one of them was with Fran) and then went into the sitting room to check his emails.