A Most Desirable Marriage (18 page)

‘But otherwise your relationship is good?’

‘There is no “otherwise”. He’s become obsessed.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Yeah, well.’ He gave her a wan smile. ‘Sorry to dump on you like this, Jo. You’re the last person who wants to hear. Just all this stuff with Nicky, Arky badgering me, Cassie’s marriage teetering by a thread, money . . . it’s all very worrying.’

Jo was so familiar with that phrase. Lawrence was a Class A worrier. Things would get inside his head, even quite trivial things, like minor set-tos with colleagues or students, and make him fret for days and weeks, out of all proportion to the initial cause.

‘Matt’s allowing her to buy a fridge.’

‘Really? So things are improving?’

‘We haven’t had a chance to talk properly, without him in the background. But even that fact says something. In the past she seemed to be on her own most of the time. It’s a good sign I think.’

Her husband relaxed back in his chair. ‘That’s one thing off the list then.’

‘And Nicky and Amber will sort something out. They’re grown-ups, even if we don’t see them as such.’

He gave her a wry smile. ‘So that only leaves Arky.’

‘Yup.’ She sipped her drink, the edges of the day worn quickly away by the alcohol. ‘But you still love him?’

It took Lawrence a moment to reply. ‘Love him? I . . . yes . . . yes, I suppose I do.’

And Jo found she didn’t want to hear that.

*

The pet shop that Donna had dragged Jo into as they walked along Notting Hill was empty of customers, the girl behind the counter texting on her mobile. Maxy immediately began snuffling around the various carefully placed toys on the floor – rope bones and chewable rabbits and rattling balls – like a kid in a sweet shop.

‘Look at all these things . . . it’s ridiculous,’ Jo whispered to her friend, casting her eye along the shelves and displays.

‘Yeah, I know. But I need to get Max a new winter coat. That one he’s got has lost its strap. It’s stopped being waterproof.’

‘He’s a Border Terrier, Donna. That means he comes from the Scottish Borders. He doesn’t need a coat in West Eleven.’

‘Yes, but he’s getting older. And that shed is like a tomb at this time of year.’ Donna was examining a quilted Barbour coat. ‘Isn’t this the cutest thing?’ She held it up for Jo to approve.

Jo grinned. ‘And check this out. A dog jumper.’ She waved a tiny red cable-knit garment with tiny sleeves. ‘Angora . . . blimey. And this tweed Sherlock Holmes hat. Oh my God, he’s got to have that.’

The girl glanced up at them. ‘The tweed’s very popular.’

Donna smiled politely. Jo knew there was no way Max would ever be allowed to wear a deer-stalker.

‘No! Look. A rawhide cupcake.’ Jo bent to stroke the dog, waving the cellophane packet in his face. ‘Things don’t get much better than this, Maxy.’ She turned to Donna. ‘I’m definitely getting it for him.’ Jo suggested they stop for a coffee on their way back home. It was freezing that December morning, the wind-chill making the air biting and painful. All the people on the pavement were scurrying along, heads bent, hats and scarves pulled close, suffering expressions on their faces.

‘Christ.’ Donna shivered as they closed the door on the blissfully steamy café. Max was allowed to come in as long as he was kept on his lead, and they settled by the window.

‘Maybe he was suggesting coming home,’ Donna said, once their lattes were in front of them.

‘He most certainly wasn’t. He said he still loved the bloody man.’

‘You shouldn’t have asked.’

‘I know, but he was clearly upset about something . . . and I was curious I suppose. I never ask about them, I don’t want to know. But I thought—’

‘You thought they might be in trouble?’

Jo shot her friend a rueful grin. ‘I suppose.’

‘You’d really take him back? Even after actor boy?’

‘I didn’t say that. And Travis has nothing to do with me and Lawrence. Nothing at all.’

‘OK . . . but answer the question. Would you take Lawrence back if the Russian were suddenly to default?’

‘No. How could I?’

‘By the look on your face right now, quite easily.’

Jo blushed. ‘That’s ridiculous.’ Then she sighed, deflated suddenly. ‘It was just the two of us, at the kitchen table, talking about stuff and drinking vodka, and yes, I suppose I did have a moment – just a moment – when I remembered what it used to be like.’

Donna’s face was full of sympathy. ‘And then you hear that Arkadius is playing up . . .’

Jo nodded. ‘Stupid, I know.’

‘Not really, darling.’

‘I know he’s gone. I do.’

‘Sounds like it’s not all a bed of roses back at that particular ranch.’

‘Yeah, but what do I care? I should never have let him start. I’m angry with myself. I was definitely moving on. When Travis was here I hardly gave Lawrence a thought. And I’ve been so absorbed in my book. This was just a lapse, and it mustn’t happen again.’

Her friend laughed. ‘That’s it, girl. You tell yourself.’

‘But you don’t believe me.’

‘I believe you’re trying. And that’s what counts.’

*

Jo’s book was her obsession, Tess her only companion during the following week. While she was working she thought of nothing else, the problems in her life like a wash behind a vivid landscape. Late on a Sunday in mid-December, she sat on the sofa, a second glass of white wine in her hand, the printout of her book stacked neatly on the cushion beside her. The house was silent, dark except for the lamp on in the sitting room. Jo, worn out from the previous days of relentless work and slightly woozy from the wine, felt a combination of satisfaction that she had finished another book, and a predictable emptiness. She could sense the worries that she had gratefully put on hold in order to finish the book, hovering, waiting to flood back in. And the future seemed to stretch ahead like a vast expanse of desert; huge and empty and unnerving.

21 December 2013

‘Not sure what you’re saying, Jo,’ Maggie said. ‘The book is different in what way?’

‘Every way. Totally different. I couldn’t write the other one. And this one just popped up instead.’

‘ “Popped up”? OK . . . but it’s still Young Adult?’

‘Oh, yes. Listen, read it, and then we can talk. I know Frances wanted something else, but I think this works, and I’m sure she hasn’t done any pre-publication stuff yet. She wouldn’t until she reads it.’

She heard her agent take a long breath.

‘Well, it’s a bit of a risk . . . but if it works I don’t see why she wouldn’t go for it. Send it over and I’ll have a look.’ There was a pause. ‘Are you pleased with it?’

‘Umm, can’t say at this stage. I’ve written it very quickly and it seems to have energy . . . but whether it works as a book . . .’

‘I won’t get to it till after Christmas now. In-laws arriving from Dubai tomorrow.’ Maggie let out a long groan. ‘But as long as we deliver it by the end of the first week in Jan, when everyone’s back at their desks . . .’

Jo emailed the manuscript over as soon as she’d said goodbye to Maggie. Nothing more to do at the moment, she thought, the day stretching ahead blankly. Just Christmas looming.

She’d lied to everyone about her plans for the holiday. She’d told Donna she was probably going to Devon. She’d told Nicky she was spending it with Donna. She’d told Cassie she was too tired to travel to Devon. The thought of having to be jolly and festive – never an easy task for Jo – was beyond her this year. It would be the last Christmas in her home anyway. Tina, the estate agent, had been given instructions for mid-January, and she wanted to stay at home while she could, be curmudgeonly, ignore the celebrations for once. She was actually looking forward to the peace and quiet. It was just another day, why did everyone have to make such a fuss?

But it was not to be. Late on Christmas Eve there was a pounding on the front door, a finger pressed continuously to the bell. Jo was already in her pyjamas, a large jumper over the top and furry sock slippers on her feet against the cold. She’d been wrapped in a blanket watching
The Godfather
all evening – a comfort film for the whole family – and it was nearly midnight.

Shocked, she stood still by the sink for a moment, the tap running for her glass of water. Then she heard Nicky’s voice, desperate and pleading, ‘Mum . . . Mum! Wake up. Please, let me in . . .’

She opened the door to her son, who flew past her into the house, bringing with him a freezing blast of air. He was wrapped in a heavy donkey-jacket, a grey wool hat over his blond hair. It must have started sleeting, because his clothes were layered with a fine mist.

‘She’s gone! Amber’s gone.’

Jo, for a split second thinking her son’s girlfriend had died, stared at him, horrified.

‘What? What’s happened?’ She pushed Nicky into a kitchen chair. ‘Take your coat off.’

Breathing heavily, he struggled out of his coat, ripped his hat off, slinging both on to the table. Brushing his hands over his hair, clasping his head as if he thought he might lose it, he cast an agonized look at his mother.

‘Tell me,’ Jo urged.

‘She’s left me. Just gone.’

‘Wait . . . start from the beginning.’ Jo sat close to her son.

He took a deep breath. ‘We were going out tonight . . . with Rob, you know, my friend from school, and his Japanese girlfriend. Just a drink. I’d gone to the supermarket to get some last-minute stuff to take to Dad’s tomorrow. I was only out forty-five minutes, but when I came back she’d vanished. Just disappeared.’

‘Was there a note?’

‘Nothing.’

‘So how do you know she wasn’t called away urgently by someone . . . family for instance, and didn’t have the chance to explain?’

Nicky looked at her as if she were half-witted. ‘She doesn’t have any family, Mum. And she’s not answering her phone.’

‘Maybe she was just panicking about the baby . . . wanted to get away for a few hours. She’s probably at home right now.’

‘Then why isn’t she calling me? I left a million messages.’

‘Her phone ran out of juice? Or she might have lost it, had it stolen. It happens.’ She took his cold hand. ‘Honestly, darling, I think you’re overreacting. You didn’t have a fight or anything, did you?’

He shook his head.

‘And things were good between you . . . with the baby?’

Her son just stared at her, his expression bewildered as he blinked back tears.

‘Mum,’ he said quietly, ‘there is no baby.’

‘What?’ Jo found she was shivering. ‘What do you mean? Did she go ahead with the abortion?’

‘She wasn’t ever pregnant.’ His words sounded heavy and dull.

‘She wasn’t pregnant? You mean she . . . made it up?’

‘No, no, she was just mistaken. She thought she was, and the test said she was . . .’

‘Didn’t she see a doctor?’

‘She was going to but she didn’t want to till we’d decided what to do.’

‘But, but, her periods . . . other symptoms. She must have wondered why she didn’t have other symptoms.’ Although as she said it, Jo remembered a number of girls she’d known in the past who hadn’t realized they were pregnant till they were four or five months gone.

‘Amber’s not very worldly. She didn’t know what to expect.’

Jo shook her head. ‘So how did she find out she wasn’t pregnant then?’

‘She got a period . . . and she went to the doctor. And he said she wasn’t and hadn’t been.’

‘God. When did she find this out?’

‘Two days ago. She wouldn’t talk about it. I thought maybe she was just relieved and didn’t want to rub it in, knowing how attached I’d got to the idea. Or maybe she just felt a fool.’

‘Were you upset?’

Nicky sighed. ‘I don’t know what I feel. Relieved in a way, I suppose. And just sort of baffled. I can’t make the whole thing out. Did she really think she was having a baby, or was it a sort of fantasy?’ He threw his hands up in the air. ‘But all that’s kind of irrelevant if she’s left me.’

Jo thought for a minute. ‘Should we be worried about her . . . her safety, I mean. She wouldn’t do anything, would she?’

‘You mean throw herself under a bus or something? Christ, Mum . . . don’t wind me up.’

‘It’s just if she’s depressed . . . maybe she invested more in the pregnancy than you realized. She could be in shock.’

Nicky sat up, his bewilderment replaced by an anxious frown.

‘Well, what should we do? Call the police?’

‘I don’t know . . . has she got any friends she might have gone to?’

‘A couple of girls. But I don’t have their numbers. One, Bea, she works with, but her office will be closed now for days. I have no idea how to get hold of her.’

‘The police won’t pay any attention till she’s been gone more than just a couple of hours.’

‘But where can she be? It’s freezing out there. All the bars and cafés are closed . . .’

‘I’m sure she’s with one of her girlfriends. That’s the most likely scenario. She probably needed to process what’s happened, and you’re too close to it all.’

Nicky nodded. ‘Perhaps. Yeah . . . yeah, that does make sense.’

‘Shall I make some tea?’ Jo asked. She was putting forward a best-case scenario to calm her son down. And she genuinely did think it was the most likely explanation. But there was a nagging doubt that maybe Amber was more unstable than Nicky understood. That she was out there somewhere, wandering the streets, freezing and distressed, her mind temporarily unbalanced.

‘Thanks, but I think I should get back. She might be there. I don’t want her coming home to an empty flat.’

‘OK. Call me if there’s news, won’t you? Whatever the time.’

Nicky nodded, put on his coat, clutching his hat in his hand. He came over to give her a hug.

‘Thanks so much, Mum. So sorry for bursting in in the middle of the night . . . I didn’t know what else to do. I tried to phone you but you weren’t picking up.’

‘I left it charging upstairs in the office. Sorry. Listen, I hope you find her,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. ‘Love you.’

After her son had gone, Jo sat up for a while with a cup of chamomile tea. She was wide awake, and worried for Amber. All the meanness and jokes about her seemed so petty now. But she was definitely a strange girl, who clearly had problems, whatever the truth behind the baby fiasco. Yes, Jo knew it was possible, occasionally, to get a false positive on a test, especially if you didn’t do it right. But what girl these days doesn’t see a doctor when she thinks she’s pregnant? And that thing Nicky had said about her not having family? She must have some family, somewhere. Then there was the potential eating disorder . . . all very odd, she decided. When she finally got to bed it was gone three.

The phone woke her. Nicky, she thought, and grabbed her mobile from the bedside table.

‘Happy Christmas, Jo,’ Lawrence’s voice greeted her.

‘Thanks . . . Happy Christmas. At least I suppose it is.’

She heard Lawrence laugh. ‘Whoa, your best Eeyore voice. Try to sound a bit more enthusiastic. Did I wake you? It’s gone ten.’

She pulled herself up against the pillows. ‘I got to bed late. Nicky came round. Seems Amber’s gone AWOL.’ She explained what their son had told her. ‘I thought it might be him calling to say she was home.’

‘I’m sure she’s absolutely fine. Nicky’ll have to get used to the dramas if he’s going to stay the course.’

‘You’re probably right.’ She paused, unwilling to get into a forced conversation with him, especially as Arkadius might be listening. ‘What are you both doing today?’

‘Arky’s in Russia visiting his parents. He flew out yesterday. Nicky and Amber were supposed to be coming over for lunch.’

‘I doubt that’ll happen now.’

‘Not by the sound of it. You’re spending the day with Donna, Nicky said.’

‘I lied.’

He laughed. ‘Christmas was never your thing. I’d better ring Nicky and find out how it’s going, what his plans are.’

‘Yes.’

Silence.

‘Listen . . . if Amber hasn’t pitched up and Nicky’s in a state . . . maybe we should all be together today? For Nicky.’ He paused. ‘Not sure how comfortable you are with that.’

Not at all, was the answer. And yet . . .

‘Nicky won’t want to come over if she’s still missing,’ she said, avoiding the issue.

‘I think that’s exactly when he’ll need our support. He’ll be going crazy stuck in that grisly basement flat all on his own, worrying about her.’

Jo gave a mental sigh. He was a bulldozer, her husband. Once an idea had fixed in his mind, he was relentless. She knew she could resist, but was there really any harm in spending a day together for the sake of their son? What was she afraid of, exactly?

‘I haven’t got any food,’ she said.

‘I have. The lot. Only it’s a chicken instead of a turkey . . . but then you hate turkey. I’ll give you a call when I’ve talked to Nicks.’

As soon as she ended the call, she regretted what she’d done. The thought of Lawrence cosily ensconced in her space – as it had become – falling into the comfortable patterns of the past, pouring the wine, eating at the table, chatting with her and Nicky, while all the time in love with someone else, just waiting for him to come back from Russia so they could fall into bed together, was infuriating.

She rang Nicky. If Amber was home, maybe they could still go to Lawrence’s as planned, and she could make some excuse.

‘Hi, Mum.’ His voice was leaden.

‘Have you found her?’

‘Yeah, she’s fine. She texted me this morning.’

‘Where was she?’

‘At Bea’s, where I thought.’

‘So is she coming back?’

‘No.’ There was a pause. ‘She’s dumped me.’

‘Dumped you?’ Jo echoed.

‘Yup.’

‘Oh, darling. I’m so sorry. Why?’

She heard him sigh. ‘She said the whole baby thing freaked her out. Thought I was way too serious. Said she was too young to be so full-on in a relationship.’

‘Right.’

‘Mum . . . I don’t know what to do. I love her so much.’ At this stage Nicky began to cry and Jo had trouble understanding what he was saying.

‘Listen, come over. Your father is threatening to bring a chicken.’

‘I can’t. God, the last thing I want is a sodding Christmas dinner . . . sorry, Mum, don’t mean to be rude or anything.’

‘It’s OK. But you’ve got to eat at some stage. Anyway, it’ll feel better to talk about it, get some perspective. You shouldn’t be alone.’

‘I know you mean well, Mum. But I’m too gutted to think straight right now. And whingeing to you won’t help.’

But after some cajoling from Jo, he did agree to call her in a couple of hours and see how he felt.

*

In the end it was after five when Nicky slouched in, pale and unshaven, looking as if he’d slept in his clothes, and smelling strongly of alcohol.

Lawrence, however, had been round since early afternoon. He and Jo had started in on the cold Cava soon after his arrival, both awkward at being alone together, both tacitly agreeing to blur the lines.

But as they waited for Nicky, Jo found they had no trouble making conversation. As long as he doesn’t mention Arkadius, she thought.

‘Are you seeing your mum?’ she asked.

Lawrence pulled a face. ‘Tomorrow. She won’t know it’s Christmas anyway . . . probably won’t even know it’s me.’ He grinned at her. ‘You can come too if you like.’

‘Ha, ha. There’s got to be some benefit to being abandoned.’ She didn’t intend to get at him – the alcohol had loosened her tongue. But he looked thoroughly disconcerted. ‘Sorry, you asked for that.’

He gave a weary nod. ‘It’d be nice if Rick did his filial share once in a while. He hasn’t seen her in over two years.’

‘He’s in Borneo, Lawrence.’ His older brother was an anthropologist and spent most of his time in some rainforest or other, much to Lawrence’s annoyance.

‘So?’

She couldn’t help laughing at his peeved expression.

‘I’m going to cook,’ he said, unpacking two large supermarket canvas bags and laying out the contents on the work surface. Lawrence was a diligent shopper; he would take literally hours in the supermarket. He said he found it soothing. So everything was there, from the chicken and the stuffing to the chipolatas, bacon, the bread sauce, cranberries, sprouts, a pudding and cream. Jo was surprised. Lawrence had seldom done much in the kitchen – division of family labour was always along gender lines in the Meadows family.