The Stepmother (26 page)

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Authors: Carrie Adams

BOOK: The Stepmother
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“You're invited, Dad!”

“Yes. But a father-of-the-bride speech isn't much good without an audience. So, ladies and gentlemen, without any further ado”—he looked at his notes—“I'd like to thank the vicar for—Oops, sorry, old version.” He chuckled and put the paper away. People chuckled with him. Couldn't help it with my dad. It was something about the youth that came through his eyes and voice, even though his skin was old, and his bones were a little more bent than I'd have liked them to be. “Tessa was born very quickly. We never even made it to the hospital. Our daughter wouldn't wait and I think it's safe to say we've been trying to keep up with her ever since. Her curiosity was my gain. From the moment I caught her, and, I mean, literally
caught
her, to now, she has made me turn away from age and walk back to meet her, in her youth. The more she does, the more she grows, the more I gain. I honestly feel that the day she came to tell us she was marrying James was the day we finally met as true equals. Father and daughter. No longer parent and child. I'm so proud of you, Tessa.” His voice choked a bit. A lump the size of a piece of coal came to my throat. “Proud of your friendships, which I know you hold so dear. Proud of your tenacity
and refusal to give up. Proud of your mind, your wit, and your beauty, which you have never abused. And, of course, your excellent synchronized swimming.”

There was a ripple of bemused laughter.

“James, I know you know you're a lucky man, and since she never stops talking about you, I feel confident in saying she feels the same. But, Tessa, I want you to know that luck is only one tiny part of marriage. Love, respect, humility, kindness, selflessness, and pure grit make up the rest. And then there is the final, secret ingredient that gives us the strength to jump the hurdles, cross the ravines, scramble up the slopes, and survive the desert. I used to think it was magic. But maybe it's hope. So, I would like to raise a glass to hope.”

“Hope,” echoed the smiling room.

“To James and Tessa.”

“To James and Tessa,” they called back.

“To the Kents and the Kings,” people were shouting now.

“The Kents and the Kings!”

“I feel a great union coming on,” said Dad, taking a sip. “And finally, but most important, to my beloved and brilliant wife Lizzie, who gave me two great gifts in this life. Her love and our daughter. I thank you for them both. Good night.”

Well, what can I say? The crowd went wild and I ruined my makeup. I hugged Dad hard, he hugged me harder still. Over his shoulder I saw Amber. Watching us, watching James kiss me now, and I thought perhaps Claudia was right. If someone had come along and claimed my dad, how would I have felt? As isolated and miserable as she looked, probably. Excusing myself, I walked toward her, but people kept coming up and congratulating me, kissing me, complimenting me, and it was difficult to get away without seeming rude.

By the time I'd crossed the room, she'd gone. I made a mental note to find her, but the party took over time and space and, before I knew it, we were well into the early hours.

We hit the dance floor. My mother did a slow dance with Ben to a funky Beyoncé number. I danced with Luke. Then Mum. Then Ben.

Then James tapped me on the shoulder and I danced with him. It was more of a medley by then anyway. “Seen Amber anywhere?”

I shook my head and kissed him.

“I can't find her,” he said, his eyes scanning across the bopping heads.

“I know Caspar was in search of her. Maybe they've escaped to a dark corner.”

“I very much doubt it.”

“Come on, James, she's nearly fifteen. She's allowed—”

“It's not that. They had a fight, if you must know, and he upset her a lot.”

“Here at the party?”

“No, before. That's why she was…Anyway, I don't want to ruin our night.”

“They didn't have a fight. We called. He said everything was great.”

That stormy look passed over James's face. “What is it?” I asked, worried.

“Really, Tessa, I don't want to talk—”

“For God's sake, tell me!”

“He tore her dress. She wouldn't tell me exactly how but it doesn't take a genius and now I can't find her anywhere.”

“No way, James.”

“She showed it to me.”

“That doesn't mean Caspar—”

“You're saying Amber's lying?”

There was that place between a rock and something harder I was getting so used to. “Of course not, but it must have been an accident or—”

James narrowed his eyes. “How do you rip a girl's dress by accident?”

I could see this escalating fast and furiously. I was sure that when Bea had proposed an engagement celebration, she hadn't wanted it to end with James and me at each other's throats. “You're right. Let's talk about it tomorrow.”

Ben filled the gap between us. “I was expecting a groom's speech from you,” said Ben jovially.

“Not very good at that sort of thing,” James replied. “Sorry, Ben, please excuse me, but I've got to go and look for my daughter.”

“Oops, did I say the wrong thing?”

I watched James go. “Is it just me or does the way he says ‘my daughter' evoke thoughts of pure evil?”

“Actually even I got a whiff of the sanctimonious just then—what's up?”

“I'm thinking of getting myself a large, oval, gilded mirror.”

“Ever thought of boarding school?” asked Ben.

“Frequently.”

Ben pulled me toward him and gave me a hug. “Everything will settle down, don't you worry.”

I leaned into him. “Can I tell you something?” Sensing the change in my tone, Ben immediately escorted me off the dance floor. Since I stuck out like a sore thumb in my flaming red dress, we snuck out onto the roof terrace to get away from the well-oiled well-wishers. It had been raining, and the teak boards glistened.

“What is it?” asked Ben, throwing his jacket over my shoulders to protect me from the cold.

“I watched their wedding video.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“It's been haunting me ever since. I don't know why I did it. And he isn't bad at that sort of thing, he's brilliant. His speech to Bea…” I could still hear the softly spoken words and see the love in his eyes. “It had me in tears and not just because it wasn't about me. I didn't want the same speech tonight. Actually, that's a lie, I do want the same speech, only different. Mine. Not hers. Instead he chickened out completely. I'm gutted.”

Ben put his arm around me. “But, Tess, you can see from the way he looks at you that he loves you. You can't be in any doubt about that.”

I stared at my feet. The leather straps were digging into the flesh. I only realized then my feet hurt. I wanted to sit down, but everything was wet.

“Saying anything to you publicly, in front of his children, is a slight to their mother. I'm sure he's just trying to preserve their feelings.”

“What about mine?”

“Tess—”

“I know, I know. The girls come first. I'm the grown-up.”

“Now you know why I've never wanted children. James is just doing what he has to do, and I take my hat off to him.”

“But they're his children. It's easy for him.”

“I'm not so sure about that, Tess. My colleagues with kids come into work on Monday morning and they look”—he scrolled through his extensive vocabulary—“beaten. One at a time, they admit to looking forward to coming back to work to get some breathing space. Biological ties or not, children sap the living daylights out of you.”

“So I'm not the wicked stepmother?”

“No. And I bet even Super-Bea dreads the school holidays.”

“Not the mistress of arts and crafts, the queen of the cupcakes—”

“Every woman I know who has children has been reduced to tears by their offspring. I make a point of asking them, so I can remind myself on those rare occasions I get drunk and broody.”

“What do you mean rare? You get drunk all the time.”

“I said drunk
and
broody.”

I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I lie awake at night taunting myself with images of a fire starting in the kitchen and then, like a computer-game, test who James would save first.”

“But, Tess, if Bea was lying next to him, he'd still run to save the girls first. That's the price you pay when you become a parent. It's a high price, I've no doubt.” He shrugged, making my head bounce. “Isn't that why their marriage failed in the first place?”

I straightened up. I had no real answer to that question. It was my turn to shrug.

“Find out. If you understand it, you won't fear it so much, and that wedding video won't haunt you anymore.”

“How can I, if James won't tell me anything?”

“He wouldn't. He's a decent man. And he loves you in all the right ways, which is the only reason I'm allowing you to marry him.”

“Sasha must sleep well at night, knowing you'd carry her out of a burning building.”

“Sasha?” Ben pulled a face. “No way. She'd be carrying me.”

I heard a noise behind us and turned to see a cold, wet, miserable Caspar. “Caspar! What is it? What's happened?”

“There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you.”

“You're soaking!”

“I need your help,” he said. “It's Amber.”

Wasn't I allowed to enjoy these warm, happy feelings a little while longer? “What happened between you two?”

He frowned. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Really? Then why isn't she wearing her dress and why aren't you doing your song?”

“She's not up to it.”

“Why not?”

“She just isn't.”

But why not? Because you got carried away. “If you think I can help, you're wrong. Amber doesn't really like me; I don't think I'm your best advocate here.”

“I don't need an
advocate
. I need you to help me get her off the fire escape before she freezes to death and get her back to yours without Mr. Kent seeing her.”

“Too late. He already knows.”

“About what?”

“About the…” I looked at my godson. “Fight.”

“We didn't have a fight. Oh, forget it, I'm getting Mum. I'm sorry I disturbed your tête-à-tête.”

“It wasn't a tête-à-tête,” I said.

“Where is she?” asked Ben.

Caspar hesitated.

“Where is she?”

He pointed to the corner of the roof terrace where a door was marked
FIRE EXIT
.

Ben set off at a run.

 

I'
D THOUGHT HE WAS BEING
a bit dramatic until I saw her. Huddled on the wrought-iron steps, Amber was wet, cold, and looked brittle enough to break. Her mascara was halfway down her face and her hair stuck to her thin arms and bony back. I temporarily forgot my fury.

“What's
she
doing here?” she spat.

“I couldn't find Mum,” said Caspar apologetically. “She can help. She really can.”

Amber put her head on her knees. Great. I wasn't even their first choice. There was an open champagne bottle on the step next to her.

“Is she drunk?” I whispered to Caspar.

“It's not that.”

“Is she drunk? I'm getting a little fed up with all this teenage melodrama.”

“Go easy, Tess,” Ben whispered.

“Tessa, I'm telling you, it's not that—” I brushed Caspar aside, knelt down, and placed Ben's jacket over the girl's shoulders. “What happened, Amber?”

She buried her face in her knees.

“What happened to your dress?”

“Tessa, don't—”

I turned to Caspar. “She told her father you'd ripped it. That's a serious accusation. Did you?”

He looked as if I'd thrown a javelin through his heart. Of course he hadn't. Amber started shaking. I thought for a moment she was laughing. I pulled her around to face me. She wasn't laughing. It scared me. “Do you want me to get James?”

She shook her head vehemently.

“Oh, my God, Amber, you're not preg—”

“Jesus, Tessa, she's fourteen!”

I looked at Caspar. “Hey, I saw you in the hydrangea. You're just as bad, so don't fourteen-year-old me.”

“Tessa, that was just a joke to wind you up. We knew you were spying on us from the kitchen. What do you take me for? We'd only just met!”

“Please,” I said incredulously.

“Amber said that's what you'd expect of her. I didn't believe her, but she was right.”

“Amber the slut. You going to rip my dress too?”

Ben and I were momentarily too startled to talk. We both stared at Amber, who promptly put her head back between her knees and hugged
her legs. Her body heaved and I thought she was going to throw up. I stepped back. I'd had a teenager fill my shoes before with vomit and didn't want to repeat the experience. But she sobbed instead.

“Amber, I wasn't calling you a slut—”

Caspar reached down and grabbed her arm. “Let's get out of here,” he said. She looked at him with such gratitude that I was suddenly uncertain. He lifted her into his arms, like a hero in the movies. He knocked over the champagne bottle in the process. It was empty. So she was drunk.

“I'm sorry, Caspar,” she said into his ear. “I couldn't, I just couldn't…”

“It's all right. I understand,” he replied gently.

Couldn't what? Go through with it? Lose her virginity? Tell her father the truth? I could see alcohol and exhaustion steal the last of Amber's fight. She buried her head in Caspar's neck and closed her eyes. He carried her up the steps and through the fire-exit door.

I knew one thing: I couldn't let Caspar take Amber anywhere in that state without risking the end of my short engagement. “I'll take them home,” said Ben, reading my thoughts.

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