The Stepmother (16 page)

“I'm sorry,” I said. “We could have come back earlier.”

“Not that kind of date. I'm going with a bunch of mates to smash plates at a brilliant Greek restaurant in Soho, spend some pent-up sexual tension, a lot of money, drink too much, and flirt with handsome waiters. Then we're going clubbing.”

“Can I come?” I asked.

“No. You have to stay here and shag my brother.” She grimaced. “Rather you than me!”

“Pleased to hear it,” I said.

“So long, see you at Mum and Dad's for the baptism by fire and, Tessa, it was great to meet you. Thank you for putting a smile back on the miserable git's face.” She threw her patchwork bag over her shoulder and waved good-bye.

“I like her,” I said.

“You'll like all of them.” He frowned. “Now, what was she saying you had to do next?”

“Get upstairs, ‘Jimbean,' you handsome beast. I'll be up in a minute with your Valentine's present.”

“Can't I unwrap it here?” he asked, reaching for my coat belt.

I pulled away. “No. I unwrap it. You get to watch.”

His eyes lit up and he headed for the stairs. “I'm gone.”

 

I
HAD NEVER DONE A
striptease before. But, hell, I'd never got married and become a stepmother before either. Neither had I loved anyone so much that I couldn't even remember what it felt like to be inhibited, let alone shy. All the lights in our room were off, James lay on the bed, and I stood in a bright shaft of light that fell through the open bathroom door. It was all quite Jack Vettriano. I'd even prepared music and set my iPod to play quietly in the background. It was fun. Articles dropped to the floor and I could hear James moan occasionally but I couldn't see him. I stood in black lacy knickers, a bra, thigh-highs, and very high heels.

“Come here,” said James.

“No.”

The bra came off next, followed by each stocking, but the shoes and knickers stayed on.

“And now for
my
pièce de résistance,” I said. I peeled off the knickers, threw them over my head, then struck a very wicked pose.

“AAAAH!”

A high-pitched scream wasn't the reaction I'd expected. The room was suddenly awash with bright light and girls in nighties screaming.

James scrambled over the bed and dived into the jeans he'd only recently cast aside, and I stood frozen to the spot, back arched, a wet finger pointing stupidly to the heart between my legs. I say stupidly, because my pubic-hair art needed no more attention than it was already receiving.

“AAAAH!” Lulu screamed again.

Too late, my legs whisked me to the sanctity of the shower cubicle. There, I wrapped myself in a towel, crouched behind a rapidly bolted door, and vowed never to come out. Well, I thought, at least I have water. What on earth possessed me to trim my pubic hair into a heart?

T
HE HEART WAS NEVER MENTIONED
. J
AMES MUST HAVE HAD A WORD
with the girls, but he neither confirmed nor denied it when I asked him. I would have preferred a snigger to the stone wall I was faced with. At least I could have been part of the joke. I alone felt the uncomfortable itch in my pants. I alone experienced the night sweats. But I don't think I was alone in pretending to forget about it. James kept a respectable distance from me in the presence of the girls, but when I tried to talk to him about it, he brushed it aside. In fact, whenever I tried to talk to him about anything to do with his daughters and me, he said what he'd always said: they adored me and everything was fine. I didn't share his confidence and became clumsy with them, knowing I was trying too hard.

Regardless of my inner fears, James insisted on telling them we were getting married. He took the afternoon off, picked them up from school, and took them for ice cream. Then he told them we wanted, with their blessing, to get married. I wasn't there, so I have only his word that they were delighted. Maddy and Lulu were excited about being bridesmaids,
maybe even Amber, too, when she allowed herself to be. Or so it felt to me. One day she'd be quite enthusiastic, but then she'd become silent and sullen. I never knew which Amber I was going to get.

I would have loved to put it down to erratic hormones, but James told me Amber didn't have her period yet, so, despite my best intentions, I took it personally.

I had wanted to take things slowly, for her sake, but once news of our engagement was out, the momentum picked up and I had to face what I could no longer avoid. James's family.

“Come on, Tessa! I said we'd be there early.” James had now called up the stairs three times. But I was no closer to being ready. My Jimmy Choo shoes, which turned my outfit from elegant but reserved to elegant with a whiff of fox, had vanished. I heard him galumphing up the stairs.

“What about those?” he said, pointing at the floor.

“My court shoes? They look like a prison warden's.”

“You could wear wellies and still look great,” he said. “Let's go.”

Defeated by my own determination not to be “that kind of girl,” I slipped my stockinged feet into what felt like moon boots and left. What I really wanted to do was throw a major tantrum and refuse to go anywhere until my glass slippers were back where they should rightfully have been.

Tearing my eyes from the depressing sight in the foot well, I faced the girls in the back of the car. “Oh, Amber, I nearly forgot. I've managed to get an extra ticket to the private gig for the Belles, and there's a party afterward, too.”

“I hate them. Jo's a scheming cow for stealing her mate's boyfriend,” said Amber, looking at me, then at her father.

“You know I didn't—” I stopped.

“Yes?” asked Amber.

What was I going to say? Didn't steal James from your mother, or didn't steal James from you? But I had, hadn't I, Amber? And therein lay the rub.

“Didn't realize you felt so strongly about it.”

“Worst kind of girls, those. Real cows.” She spat the word so venomously that it left me in no doubt that the animal she was referring to
was in fact canine, not bovine. But Amber couldn't call me a bitch yet. Not to my face, anyway. She turned away and stared out of the window. I thought I saw pained confusion reflected in the glass, but I was mistaken. It was just another sulky pout.

When we arrived at James's parents' house, just outside Hatfield, the front door was flung wide, and a white-haired man, who could only have been his father, beckoned us in. He was James with more laughter lines and no pepper left. He was handsome like his son, had pale blue eyes and a Don Johnson smile. Behind him stood a striking woman in a black cocktail dress. The children ran to their grandparents. I hovered in the background, like the outsider I was.

“Mum, Dad,” said James, bringing me forward, “this is Tessa.”

Peter kissed my cheek. “Wonderful to meet you. I should think you need a strong drink. Martini?”

I grimaced. “Is that wise this early in the day?”

I got a big squeeze from Honor. “Imperative, I should think.” She smiled. “Don't worry, it's going to be fine.”

“I've got special fruit cocktails for you lot. Come and give me a hand in the kitchen. What about you, Jimmy? Martini?”

We followed them in. “Better make it a beer, Dad. I'm driving.”

“Won't be a minute, make yourselves comfortable. Tessa, it's lovely to have you here. We're so happy about your news.”

“Thank you.”

The girls disappeared after Honor and Peter, leaving us standing alone in the hall.

“Jimmy?”

“'Fraid so.”

I pulled a face. “Jimmy,” I said again. “That sounds weird. I think I prefer Jimbean.”

He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Don't worry, you can still call me Mr. Kent.”

We stood a little awkwardly.

“Two down,” I said.

“Three million to go.”

He took me through to a perfectly orchestrated shabby-chic sitting room. Soft white sofas, a lit fire, myriad colorful cushions, scented
candles, and big books on art and architecture—everything to make you feel at home—but we fell into an uncomfortable silence. Desperate that we should give the impression of a relaxed, happy couple, I filled the silence. I should have settled for quiet contemplation of my galoshes.

“What do you think of what Amber said in the car?”

“Impressive, I thought. Those sorts of girls are horrid, but in my day they were the popular ones. Never understood that.”

A lengthy pause. “You don't think the comment was a little”—I sought a less inflammatory word than “barbed”—“barbed?” I failed.

He put his head to one side, confused. “In what way?”

You know what “barbed” means. “Well…directed at me?”

“Don't be ridiculous, Tessa. She was talking about girls in a band.”

“You really don't see—”

“Jimbean!”

“Hey, Lucy.”

Thank God. The one I knew.

She turned to me. “You ready?”

I shook my head.

“Well, it's too late now, they've come en masse.”

A wave of noise erupted outside the door.

“Everyone was in the kitchen as usual,” said Lucy. “They can't wait to get their eyes on you.” The noise got louder. “Brace for impact.”

I felt a strong urge to put my hands over my face, but luckily I couldn't move. The doors opened, and there in front of me stood a family montage that would have made the Victorians proud. Mater, pater, Faith and Luke, and, in front of them, the children. They stared at me. Or, rather, at my shoes.

“Hi,” I said, “I'm Tessa.” They moved forward like a multiheaded amoeba, and the force of their presence knocked me back into the sofa. I was kissed a lot, someone gave me a drink, then another, Peter made a toast to the happy couple, everyone clapped, and I was kissed again.

“So, you're a lawyer?” asked Luke, my brother-in-law-to-be. God, that was weird.

“Entertainment lawyer, right?” answered Faith.

“Copyright, libel, that sort of thing?” asked Luke.

“That's the fun stuff. Mostly it's contracts,” I replied before his wife could answer for me.

“Got any brothers? I'm single at the moment,” said Lucy.

“Lucy!”

“What? No point being complacent about these things. It's good to share.”

“Sorry, Lucy. Only child. Got a couple of single mates I could hook you up with, though,” I said.

“Not that civil servant,” said James crossly.

“Is he dishy?” asked Lucy.

“Very.”

A little boy appeared and climbed onto Faith's lap. “Are your parents coming?” she asked.

“Sadly, not. Dad hurt his foot dancing. They couldn't get here.”

“Dancing?” said Luke. “I thought he was…” His voice trailed off.

“Luke! Honestly!”

“He is old,” I said, coming to Luke's rescue.

“But not infirm, by the sounds of it,” said Faith. She ran her hands through her husband's hair.

I felt Faith was trying to be my friend, but she was also protecting her patch. I also knew from Amber that she and Bea saw a lot of each other, so I wasn't sure.

“Tessa's father's amazing. At eighty-four, he could give me a run for my money,” said James, taking my hand.

“So could most people, old man,” said Lucy.

“What about your mother?” asked Honor.

My head was bouncing about, trying to keep up. I felt like I was at a doubles tennis match. “Unfortunately, she isn't well enough to drive at the moment either.” Ever.

“Oh, she hasn't got that horrible sick bug that's going around? Charlie puked for days. Everyone's been off school,” said Faith.

I'd assumed they'd know about the MS. I readied myself for the story I hated telling, but was always asked. When, how, what, where, poor you, I have a friend…But it didn't happen. There was a sudden shift in direction.

“Bea told me they'd closed the whole school down,” said James.

“Not only that. Health inspectors found traces of salmonella. We are forming a cleaning committee. They've been outsourcing it to some company…”

This was followed by a semi-discussion on underage illegal workers. Someone mentioned a fourteen-year-old Vietnamese girl found working at a supermarket, which led to a brief debate about whether Vietnam would be a fun destination for a Kent family Christmas.

Then Faith turned to me. “So, Tessa,” she said, “back to what we were talking about…” I was poised for my rehearsed speech about my mother's health. “Where's the ring?”

“The ring?”

“The ring! Yes, where's the ring?” Faith waggled her rock at me.

“Haven't got one yet,” I said, staring stupidly at my empty fingers.

“Couldn't prize Nona's ring off Jimbean's dead fingers,” said Charlie, the five-year-old sitting on Faith's knee.

I laughed, but no one else did.

“Charlie!” said Luke, his father.

“What, Dad? That's what you said in the car.”

“Luke?” It was James. I could see he was hurt. And it wasn't because this situation was awkward for me.

“Sorry, mate. Sometimes I forget we live with a human parrot.”

“Not really the point.”

Luke nodded, chastised.

“That ring is going to Amber,” said James. “We've discussed this. Bea's keeping it till then.”

Hang on. Bea? I thought we were talking about…Oh God. It felt like the room suddenly expanded then contracted. Jim Bean. Bea. He wasn't Jimbean. They were. Together.

“She was wearing it at Luke's fortieth, Jimmy.”

“So?” asked James, defending his ex-wife.

“Granny thinks she should have it,” said Amber, coming over and sitting on James's knee. “To pay her back for some of the school fees.” What? Pay
who
back? The ground beneath my feet shifted.

“Amber, darling, that ring wouldn't cover a single term these days,” said Honor. “It has sentimental value. That's all.”

“Which is why it's yours, my angel,” said James. “For when you get married yourself.”

“I'm never getting married,” said Amber, looking sideways at me.

I wanted to jump up and shout, “Barbed! Barbed!” but the fight had left me.

“'Course you will,” said Faith.

“Never.”

“Right,” said Honor, standing up. “Lunch is ready. Let's go through.”

Everyone started filing out. James put his arm around Amber. “So, will you look after your dad in his old age, then?”

“'Course I will,” said Amber.

“What a perfect daughter. Dedicated to her father and no boyfriends.”

“Who said anything about no boyfriends?”

James's jaw dropped. Amber laughed. “Cheeky monkey,” said James. They walked out together.

I hung back. Could this day get any worse?

Faith loitered at the door. “Don't worry,” she said. “It gets easier.”

“Does it?”

Her five-year-old came up and took my hand. He grinned at me. At last, a friend.

“Will you show me your bottom?”

I laughed.

“Charlie!”

“What? I want to see the heart.”

Was that Amber sniggering in the corridor?

“What nonsense are you warbling about now?” said Faith.

Charlie opened his mouth to reply.

“Not now, Charlie, go and wash your hands.”

“But, Mummy—”

“Now, Charlie.”

He scuttled off. Was I being paranoid or did I catch a suppressed smile as Faith turned away from me? I shut my eyes tight and breathed out. And I'd thought the shoes would be the sticking point. It took every ounce of strength I possessed to follow her into the dining room. But I did, a smile stapled to my face, despite everyone's eyes on my crotch.

 

I
HAD A LOT OF
time to digest what I had learned at lunch. My first reaction was to shout at James, but that was what Amber wanted, so I kept my fury, my fear to myself. I realized that if our marriage was going to work, I needed her on-side. She had the ear of the king, the eyes of her mother, and my neck on the line. Defensive was never going to work. It was time to go offensive. Cora had worked brilliantly on Maddy and Lulu, so why shouldn't Caspar, my seventeen-year-old godson, do the same on Amber? He could show her that I might be a cool addition to her life, not the feared man-eating, mole-ridden monster from the fairy tales. By the time we had the kids next, I was ready.

Naturally, it didn't go quite to plan. When I introduced Caspar to Amber, he fell in love.

 

I
ARRIVED AT THE FLAT
with Caspar and called up to Amber's room. I wasn't hopeful—that morning she'd been particularly monosyllabic and had retreated to her room with her cereal. However, she immediately came skipping down the stairs, her long hair flowing behind her. The Snoopy pajamas had been replaced with an off-the-shoulder,
Flashdance
-esque sweatshirt, her pert, braless breasts bouncing through the cotton, micro-shorts, and Ugg boots. Her thighs did the concave thing that Kate Moss's do. She was wearing lip gloss too, and her hair stuck to it. I shouldn't have told her Caspar was coming. I shouldn't have told her he was seventeen. I shouldn't have told her he was male. She jumped the last few steps and landed in front of him, smiling like Miss World.