The Stepmother (30 page)

“What? Oh, damn it, I've got to get off the phone. I'm at Customs.”

“Okay,” I said. I held up the phone. “Say good-bye to Daddy.” They did. I didn't. I returned to the table and finished my spaghetti. Suddenly, I felt an insatiable need for a large glass of red wine, but knew better than to relax before lights-out.

“Zoo, playground, cinema,” I said. “Honestly, you lot are terrible at fibbing. I can't believe your dad fell for it.” While I handed yogurts around, I picked up the phone again. “Do you want to call Mummy and say good night?” I asked, as if the thought had just occurred to me. The younger ones nodded, then glanced at Amber. Something silent passed between them, but, not knowing the secret way of sisters, I couldn't decipher the code. “She'll probably have gone out by now,” said Amber.

“Oh. Okay.” Where? I wondered. And with whom?

“Yeah, she usually goes out with friends when we're not there.” Amber peeled back the lid of her yogurt.

“What about leaving a message? Or, if you want, you could call her on her mobile? She might like to hear from you.”

Amber stirred her yogurt intently. “We don't usually call,” she said. I knew Amber was lying. So did the girls. They became as intent on their plates as their sister. I could see the tension in Amber's body. I thought I understood why. Fibbing to Daddy was probably easier than lying to her mother about not seeing Caspar. I realized I had put her in a difficult position.

“I'll sort it out, Amber. Okay?”

She didn't respond.

“I promise.”

Caspar was watching Amber as closely as I was. She didn't take her eyes off the yogurt, but I could have sworn the tension I saw in her shoulders took on a furious form. Afraid it would ricochet back on me, I changed the subject.

I gave Maddy and Lulu a quick bath. They called home, but Amber was right: Bea had gone out. They left a sweet good-night message, which I tried not to listen to, be moved by, or jealous of. I failed on all three counts. But at least I was aware I was failing and told myself I was being foolish. Understanding the failure of James and Bea's marriage meant I no longer feared it. It wasn't very nice of me, but now that the perfect Bea Frazier had slipped off her pedestal, we were on a more equal footing.

By the time I came downstairs, Amber and Caspar had waded through the ads, previews, and warnings on the DVD and were waiting to start the film. I poured myself a glass of wine and sat in the armchair, leaving them sitting close together on the sofa. I had little interest in the film they had chosen on their way back from the tube station, and would happily have got into a bath with my wine and a book, but I wasn't going to leave the two unattended. I had to be able to look James in the eye and tell him nothing had happened on my watch.

About twenty minutes into the film, Amber offered to make peppermint tea. Caspar paused the film, and while she was out of the room, we stuck to the safe topic of his family. When we found ourselves on the subject of his sister's latest method of disruption, holding her breath until she went purple, I knew we'd been chatting for a while, because it's a subject he prefers to avoid. We thought the same thing at the same time. Now what?

“I'll go,” said Caspar.

“No. I will.”

Amber wasn't in the kitchen and the kettle had long boiled. I looked in the downstairs loo. She wasn't there. It's a tiny cubicle under the stairs, and I was about to close the door behind me when something stopped me. A memory. A smell. Something. It was too brief to catch,
but I looked around the room again, trying to locate it again. Caspar was on the threshold, watching me. I waved him back to the living room. Her bedroom was empty, so I tried the bathroom. It was locked. I knocked.

“Coming,” said Amber quickly.

“You okay?”

“Mum called. Sorry. Start the film without me.”

I would have, except I knew that Amber's phone was recharging next to the kettle in the kitchen, because I'd just seen it. And if she had been chatting to her mother, we'd have heard her. The loo flushed and the tap ran. I waited. A few moments later I heard the loo flush again. Still Amber didn't come out. I went back downstairs, and as I passed the loo, I looked in again. It wasn't the smell that had triggered the memory. The water was pink. I knew what pink water meant. Any girl of a certain age does. It means blood.

“Hey, Caspar, make tea, would you? Bea called.” I shouted.

His forehead creased. “Oh, God, Amber okay?”

“Just catching up on the day.”

I could see he didn't believe me, but I didn't pursue it. I went up to my room. I had made one shelf of the shower-room cabinet my own. I opened it and looked through my belongings. Nothing suitable for a fourteen-year-old girl. I returned to the corridor and knocked again. “Can I come in?” I asked.

Amber emerged, closing the door behind her quickly. She'd changed. “Fancied getting into something more comfortable,” she said.

“Listen,” I whispered, “I know I'm the last person in the world you probably want to talk to about this, but I can help.”

She frowned.

“Have you got your period?”

She looked painfully embarrassed but she didn't deny it.

“Look, I spent months trying to put those bloody Lil-lets in when I first had periods and I couldn't do it. It used to make me cry, trying to follow those hideous diagrams. Feet up on the loo, pants around my ankles. I fell over once and nearly knocked myself out.”

I put my arm around her shoulders and led her to her room. “The small Tampax are much easier in the beginning, because the applicator
does the work for you. Or good old-fashioned sanitary pads will do the job.”

I could see her swallow her shame and try to be the big girl she wanted to be. “But the boxes are so big,” she said.

That was true. There was no hiding a bag of pads. “So what have you been using?”

Amber gazed at the floor. “Loo paper.”

“Oh, sweetie. How long for?”

She gulped. “This is my second. I didn't know when it was coming. I didn't know what to do. I tried to buy them, but there was such a big choice and there were boys in the drugstore…”

“Couldn't your mum get them for you?” I asked. Now she looked like she was about to cry. I rushed on. “You know what? Stupid as it is, I still feel awkward buying them. Especially since I don't buy the smallest ones anymore. There's always a man on the counter when I go, guaranteed. Thank God for online shopping, frankly. Do you want me to wash some stuff? Those are your favorite jeans.”

The change of direction caught her off-guard and she nodded. Poor thing. Accidents like that are horrid.

“Is it on the sofa? Is that how you know?” she asked.

“God, no. I know because I know, and when it happens to Lulu, you'll know immediately too. That's the sisterhood, my friend. We look out for one another.”

Amber brushed away an imagined tear. “Thanks, Tessa.”

“You go downstairs. Caspar's making tea. I'm going to the corner shop to get some biscuits for us all.”

“We've got some.”

“I know that, but Caspar doesn't and he needn't know why I'm doing a bit of late-night shopping.”

“Oh.”

“Don't you worry, I'll find something. Start watching the film.”

“What about you?” asked Amber.

“Don't worry about that.”

“I'll tell you what happens.”

Caspar didn't even notice that Amber had changed, which made me smile to myself. He did, however, have a fairly hefty order for my shop
run—drinks, sweets, chocolate. Honestly, I'd no idea where that boy put it.

I forgot my keys intentionally so Amber had to let me in. I passed her a bag. A few minutes later, she was back on the sofa, the goodies on a tray, tucking into some Maltesers. She gave me a surreptitious wink, which I held to my heart and hugged.

Feeling confident that I could now leave her and Caspar alone, I put on a wash, put away the washing-up, and laid breakfast for the morning, as I had seen Fran do. I booked a cab to take Caspar home at ten-thirty and took myself upstairs to bed. I kissed him good-night, as I usually do, then hesitated.

Amber took the difficulty out of the situation and stood up. “Thanks for a great day,” she said, kissing my cheek. “And everything.”

It was the first time she'd kissed me, and I was startled by how happy it made me feel. I wanted to hug her and tell her that everything would be fine, but instead I said good night and went upstairs. I forced my eyes to stay open until I heard her close and lock the front door, take herself upstairs, clean her teeth, and go to her room. If she stayed up all night texting Caspar, fine. As far as I was concerned, my charges were at home, safe. I closed my eyes and slept.

 

T
HE RINGING WAS A DISTANT
bell calling me to church. I was late and the hem of my wedding dress was caught in the jaws of a digger. I yanked it free but found I couldn't run. “Coming,” I wanted to call, but I couldn't speak, either. The ringing continued.

I woke up enough to realize I couldn't run or speak because I was asleep. Then I reached the lid of sleep and discovered I was in bed and it was the phone ringing, not the bells of St. Clement's.

I picked it up. “James?”

“Tessa, darling, it's Mum.”

I squinted at my watch but couldn't see the time. It was dark in the room except for the orange glow that crept in at either side of the curtain. “What time is it?”

“I don't know, late, early.” I heard my mother take a deep breath. “It's the middle of the night.”

I burst through the surface, finally awake. “What's wrong?”

“I'm so sorry to—”

“Mum, what's wrong? Where's Dad? Is he all right?”

“He's fishing.”

Of course. He was on the Isle of Skye with Peter, bonding over maggots. “What's happened?”

“Well, the thing is…” She paused. “I fell asleep in front of the telly—”

“Mummy, what's happened?”

“I woke up and—oh, hell, Tessa, don't panic but—”

“Mum!”

“I can't see.”

I swore silently. “Where are you?”

“Well, I tried to get to bed…”

I held my breath.

“I'm so sorry, darling, I'm—I've knocked all the vases off the table.”

“What vases? Are you all right? Are you cut?”

“No, no, no—well, only slightly. You see, I was cleaning them and, well, there's broken glass everywhere and now I'm stuck.”

“Let me call an ambulance.”

“No. This isn't life-threatening.”

“You're surrounded by shards of glass and you can't see.”

“Please, sweet Tessa, you have a key. It won't take you long. They'll have to knock down the door otherwise.”

My mother would rather chew off her own leg than end up in a hospital before time. Though what “time” was, I no longer knew. But she was my mother, and her system worked for her. Who was I to take that away? “I'm leaving now,” I said.

 

I
SHOOK
A
MBER AWAKE
. S
HE
stared at me from behind a dream.

“I'm so sorry, I've got to get you home,” I said.

“Huh?”

“My mother isn't well. I've got to go and help her.”

“My mother?”

“No, mine.” I switched on the bedside light. She squinted at me. “I have to go to Oxford. Now. Can you help me get the girls into the car?”

“I'll get dressed,” said Amber, awake—oh, to be young.

I started James's car and turned the heaters on. I chose his because it had four doors and it was easier to get the sleeping girls into and out of. I ran upstairs, picked Maddy up, and, without waking her, had her in the car, belted and under a blanket. Lulu woke, but I took her pillow and rabbit with her, and she was asleep again by the time I'd locked the front door.

Amber and I got in. We were on our way within ten minutes of my mother's call. I handed Amber my phone. “Can you call your mother?” I said. “You'd better warn her.”

“Why?”

“She might have bolted the door.”

“You can't take us home,” said Amber.

“I can't leave you here to cope on your own. I know you could, but Daddy—”

“Can't we come with you? Mum will be asleep.”

“That's why you have to call. To wake her up. I can't take you, because I'll have to get my mother to a hospital.”

“What's wrong with her?”

“Please, Amber, call Bea.”

I heard the ringing tone in Amber's ear. “Try the mobile,” I said.

“I told you,” said Amber. “She went out.”

I glanced at the dashboard. It was nearly three. “Does she often stay out this late?”

“I don't know. We're not there.”

Fair enough.

“Do you know where she goes?”

Amber shook her head.

“Do you know who she goes with?”

Amber just looked at me.

“Well, let's go and see. She might just be asleep. Keep trying.”

I heard the mobile ring. At least that meant it was on. I drove to Kentish Town. It took seven minutes. I pulled up outside Bea's house. The lights were on and I was relieved until I saw Amber's expression.

“Let me go first,” she said, retrieving the key from her denim-jacket pocket. I was too worried about my own mother to hear the concern
she was trying to disguise about hers. She got out of the car and walked, not ran, to the front door. She appeared to puff herself up before she put the key in the lock, glanced back at me, then disappeared through the door.

I saw her silhouette walk into the sitting room through the net curtain that hung in the small bay window. I saw her leave. I saw her figure through the glass diamonds in the front door shrink from view. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, then looked at my watch for the umpteenth time.