The Real Liddy James (6 page)

Liddy would have dumped all these things into the garbage.

“How do you spell
secession
, Mom?” asked Matty.

“One
c
, two
s
's,” said Liddy, glancing over at Rose, who nodded. Then she came back to the kitchen, to discuss her plans for her second, potentially best-selling, book.

“So this is the outline,” she was saying, gingerly scraping bits of potato out of the sink and peering into the drain as if unsure what might lie beneath. “It's called
How
to
Break Up without F**king Them Up: A Divorce Lawyer's
Guide to Successful Co-Parenting.
What do you think?” Liddy genuinely wanted to know. She intended to take advantage of Rose's considerable editing skills.

“Sounds good,” replied Rose carefully. “It's memorable and witty.”
And Peter's gonna go CRAZY!
she thought, but decided to keep quiet and listen as this promised to be a particularly fascinating conversation, especially if this book followed the format of the first and juxtaposed practical advice with personal experiences.

“I've got all the headings for the chapters. The first one is ‘Family Is Still Family'
—
have dinner together once a week, like we do—”

The expression on Rose's face stopped her.

“What?”
Liddy's right foot was tapping impatiently on the stone tiles.

“That wouldn't work for everyone,” Rose said, unconvinced.

“Okay, I'll put
month
, right? Family dinner once a month—”

“As long as no one starts shouting . . .” said Rose firmly, turning to tuck a blanket around Cal. He stirred awake.

“What did you do at school today?” she said.

“We had a field trip to the Museum of Natural History. I dissected a frog.”

“Gross!
” came Matty's voice from the other room.

“I didn't mind,” said Cal calmly. “I liked to see where all the bits went.”

“Surgeon!”
whispered Liddy happily. Then she scribbled a note on the page. “I've said meet at a restaurant.”

Rose smiled. She leaned over and kissed Cal on the forehead and he wrapped his skinny arms around her neck. The touch of his soft skin reminded her of a dream she had once had in which Liddy was killed in a car crash and she and Peter had adopted Cal. When she had juddered awake, she had been aware only of a feeling of pure maternal love, and because Rose did do guilt, she had then been appalled by the workings of her subconscious.

Meanwhile, Liddy had remembered something. “I went on a date last week.”

This was not unusual. For the last two years, Liddy had gone on the occasional first date, but as they never progressed to a second, Rose had a suspicion Liddy only did it to keep up appearances.

“That's great, Liddy. Who is he?”

“He bought the apartment below me last year. Lloyd Fosco. He's an actor on television. Pretty successful, I think, judging
from the financial statement he gave the co-op. He's big, and hairy, and a bit younger than me . . . but he is attractive.”

This was unusual. Normally Liddy was set up by work colleagues. Meeting newly single people was a perk of their job.

“What's he in?” she asked. Rose had never heard of him, but that meant nothing. Peter did not believe in watching television, so her viewing opportunities were severely curtailed.

“I can't remember the name,” replied Liddy. “It's some huge series set in a hospital. I really must catch up with it if we go out again. I can't tell him I only watch PBS, the E! network, and Rachel Maddow.”

“I love Rachel Maddow,” said Rose.

“So do I,” said Liddy. “In fact, Rachel is my imaginary friend. Sometimes when she's on, I close my eyes and I pretend she's sitting in the chair beside me making me laugh.”

Rose quickly returned to the subject of Lloyd Fosco and the date. “How did it go?”

“Okay, I think. We had drinks and he wants to see me again. He's booking dinner. He says he wants to talk.”

“He wants to get to know you. That's good,” said Rose. “Just be careful, because if it all goes wrong you can't hide from him. He lives in the building.”

“Oh, I've thought about that,” said Liddy seriously. “I persuaded the doorman to give me a key to the service elevator. Now . . . chapter two. Remember to enjoy the time you have with your kids, i.e., don't waste it droning on about table manners or homework. Ask them questions. How was
your
day? What do
you
think about climate change?”

Liddy continued in her positive pitching tone, while ineffectually lifting things in the kitchen and moving them from one place to another, which she called tidying.

“Liddy. I think table manners and homework are quite important.”

“Pfft . . .”
said Liddy, the distinctive noise she made when questioned. “You know what I mean. No child wants to come through the door after a long day and be harangued about music practice. It's dull and a surefire way to make them resent you. It goes for adults too. I honestly believe that at least half the divorces I do are because someone got bored.”

Rose closed her eyes as an unexpected wave of nausea overwhelmed her. If Liddy was right, it was clear her own relationship was doomed. She had had a conversation with Peter the previous week about childproofing the house, during which he had fallen asleep.

“Three. Discuss money, politics, and/or religion with your children, but do not denigrate your ex's point of view. Even if it's why you separated.”

Thank goodness
, thought Rose,
Peter and I never
argue about those things.
And it was true. As career academics in liberal arts living in New York City, they both shared the same measured, careful (or “penny-pinching,” as Liddy had once referred to it) outlook and were committed to recycling, the Democrats, and godlessness.

“Then for tip number four I have to do something about ‘communication,' but I've got my own twist on that. Sometimes
decisions have to be unilateral. You can't hide behind the other parent once you've split. Or even if you haven't, frankly. Parenting can be a lonely business whatever your situation.There are things you just have to get on with.”

Rose was not sure now how helpful this book would be to anyone. It seemed to be turning into a Vindication of the Rights of Liddy. Rose lifted her right hand and examined her nails. Pregnancy had made them weak and split-y.

“Rose, I'm feeling good,” Liddy said, smiling happily. “This stuff is beginning to write itself.”

“Lucky you,” said Rose, and when Liddy asked her what she meant, she told her about Professor Sophia Lesnar and the situation at work, and that even thinking about it made her feel queasy.

“Don't worry,” Liddy replied briskly. “It's good timing, actually. You'll have to go to bed early every night, so you can put your laptop on a tray and bash the article out over your bump.”

Rose, suddenly ill, felt unable to take on Liddy one on one, exactly like Corinthia Jordan in the Style section. Of course Liddy would find a way to fit extra work in during pregnancy, in the same way that she viewed a colonoscopy as an opportunity for weight loss.

“Would you make me a cup of tea, Liddy? I'm not feeling well.”

She shivered, and Liddy stopped being sententious and became solicitous.

“Do you need a doctor?” she said calmly, pulling her cardigan off and wrapping it around Rose's shoulders.

“No,” said Rose, shaking her head vigorously, and motioning
for Liddy to carry on and fill the kettle, but a sudden pain in her belly overtook her and her hands clenched white over it and she cried out to Liddy, who knew the time for keeping calm was over.

Liddy immediately called Vince, her driver, and got Rose and the boys into the car. Within ten minutes they were at University Hospital, where Barbara, too tense for tears, ran over to them and took Rose down a corridor on a trolley, but not before Rose clutched Liddy's hand and said, “Pray for a miracle, Liddy, I used all mine up,” and Liddy kissed her forehead and did.

For He said
, Liddy whispered,
I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “Move from there to here,” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.

And then Liddy became aware of a high-pitched sniveling beside her and she turned to see Cal sobbing and crying out for Mr. Oz, the cuddly kangaroo he had left at Carroll Gardens, and Matty juddering with the force of his emotions, repeating, “What's happening? What's happening? Is the baby going to die?” and when Liddy did not say anything, just reached her hand out to touch his face to calm him, he told her to get OFF and hit her arm away so hard she yelped,
“Matty! Don't do that!”
and shook her hand, which hurt, but he looked up straight into her face, fearless.

“I'll do as I please,” he said, and walked over to the drinks machine, truculently scrabbling for change in his pockets as Liddy stood still, impotent, frozen first by the look on her elder son's face and then by embarrassment, as at least six people, including two health professionals, had witnessed the exchange.

At this moment, Peter burst through the glass doors and ran toward her.

“Where's Rose?” he asked.

“They took her off down there. Barbara's with her,” she said, and without thinking they embraced, and for a long moment all the enmity between them disappeared and they dissolved into each other's bodies in the way that only once-lovers can do. Peter pulled away first.

“Thank you, Liddy, thank you for getting her here.”

“I'm so sorry, Peter . . .” she began, but he had walked away as Matty silently linked his arm in his father's and the two of them headed up the corridor, searching.

Left behind, Liddy felt Cal's body wrapped around her leg, and grateful for his compliance, she lifted him into her arms and they sat down together, her promising to send Vince back for Mr. Oz. There were still tears on Cal's face, so she stuck her hand into the bottom of her purse searching for a tissue and pulled out the yellowing linen handkerchief Sebastian Stackallan had handed her almost three months ago and that she had not thrown away, though now she wished she had. It was a vivid and unpleasant reminder of another scene that had not played out according to Liddy's approved script, and a sudden and unwanted vision of Stackallan appeared in front of her now—his arrogant smile, the way he tilted his head as he prepared to make an argument, the fact that you could never tell from his tone of voice whether he was about to be nice or nasty. She shuddered and stuffed the handkerchief back beneath a stale and squashed York Pepppermint Pattie, and wiped Cal's face with her sweater instead.

She looked up. Barbara had reappeared, smiling thinly, but it was a real smile, and the news was good. It had all been very frightening and there had been some bleeding, but the baby was fine—so far. And the two women felt an urge to embrace, yet made the same decision to quell it. So instead they walked into the side ward together, Cal between them, Barbara unable to resist having a quick look at Liddy to see if she showed any evidence of the Vampire Facial around her cheekbones.

Peter and Matty were lying on either side of Rose, Peter on the right, his face buried in her hair, and Matty on the left, his arms wrapped tightly around hers, his head against her shoulder, eyes closed, smiling, so content that for a moment Liddy did not recognize him. Barbara sat down on the end of the bed and told them that Rose had gestational hypertension and that she must stay in the hospital for at least a week. Then, if her condition stabilized, the obstetric team would allow her home for bed rest for the next five months.

“Bed rest?” said Rose weakly. “That's like something out of
Gone With the Wind
. What does it mean?”

“It means bed rest, my love,” replied Peter, “where you lie in bed, day and night.”

“But I have to go to work,” said Rose, gripping his forearm. “My job's on the line.”

“For God's sake, forget about that!”

“What about income protection?” asked Liddy.

“It doesn't cover pregnancy,” said Peter, in the weary voice of someone who had waged innumerable unsuccessful wars against the university's Human Resources Department.

“Bullshit!
This isn't about normal pregnancy. Look at the state of her,” said Liddy, typically straightforward. “I want her contract couriered to my office tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll call them first thing and tell them I'm her lawyer.”

“Thank you, Liddy,” said Rose.

Liddy leaned over to her and stroked Rose's hair from her forehead. “If there's any trouble they can get ready for one of my
special
letters,” she whispered.

Barbara grinned and turned to Peter.

“Rose really mustn't leave the house. You'll have to look after her.”

“I'll look after her,” said Matty bravely, but Peter shook his head and stood up.

“No, son.” And then he looked at Liddy, who nodded.

“Matty, you're going to move in with me for a while,” she said.

There was a long silence.

Barbara got up and kissed everyone good night, including Liddy by accident, and those left around the bed all looked at each other as the clip of her heels disappeared down the corridor.

Liddy made an awkward stretching movement with her arms.

“I guess we'll head off then. Cal. Matty.” She looked at Peter. “I'll get Vince to drop over tomorrow for Matty's stuff.”

“But I want Mr. Oz
now
!” said Cal.

“Don't bother,” said Matty. “I'm not going.”

“Matty . . .”
warned Peter.

“You can't make me, Dad. I'm staying with you and Rose.”