A Wild Affair (17 page)

“What does?” I asked suspiciously.

“Well, we often get upset with people who are too similar to us. You know, we don't like to see ourselves reflected—our bad points, at least.”

“I'm nothing like my mother,” I said indignantly, pushing myself up. “Nothing. We couldn't be more different. Completely, utterly …”

“Different. I get it,” Louise said, guiding me gently back down.

“I am. I would never cheat, not normally. It was my mother's fault. I thought he and she … I didn't realize she was my mother.”

“You made a mistake, you mean?”

I shrugged defensively. “I didn't trust him. And my mother acts like flirting is a good thing, like it doesn't matter at all. But it does. Max trusted me. Trusts me. And I let him down. I'm not the person he thinks I am. I don't deserve him …” The therapist was working deeper into my shoulders and I winced slightly.

“I'm sure that's not true. We all make mistakes from time to time, don't we?”

“Max doesn't,” I said quietly.

“But your mother does? Now, turn over please.” I did as she asked and she started to knead my upper back. It felt amazing and I started to cry.

“I'm nothing like my mother,” I managed to say through my tears. “She left her only child so she could keep on partying with rich young men. She left me. She let me think she was dead.”

“Have you asked her about it?” Louise asked, moving down my back. “Have you told her how you feel?”

I shook my head. The truth was that since meeting my mother, I'd barely had a proper conversation with her. And now I knew why. I'd been scared, terrified to discover the truth in case my worst fears were realized, in case she didn't really love me all that much after all, in case she hadn't really thought about me all those years I'd thought about nothing but her. “Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea,” Louise said. “Sounds like the two of you have got a lot to talk about, don't you think?”

“Yes,” I said, biting my lip. “Yes, I think we do.”

“And maybe,” she continued, “if you told your fiancé what happened, he might forgive you, too. Nothing like talking, you know,” she said, winking. “Now, that's the end of your treatment. After you've put on your robe, you can make your way back to the changing rooms. Okay?”

I nodded. “Thank you,” I said. “Really. Thank you so much.”

“Don't mention it.” She smiled, and glided out of the room as
she said, “Now make sure you drink lots of water. The oils are very detoxifying and you'll need plenty of fluids to flush out your system.”

“Fluids. Right,” I said, as the door closed behind her. I quickly stood up and pulled on my Sanctuary white robe. I looked at myself in the mirror on the back of the door. I was rosy-cheeked, my hair was hanging limp with oil around my face, and my eyelids were swollen from crying. But apart from that, I didn't look too bad. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door. To my horror, I saw my mother walking toward me.

“Jessica!” She smiled. “How was your massage?”

“Oh, great,” I managed to say. “You going back to the changing room?”

“Yes, darling. I have to say, mine was the best massage I've ever had. Really quite wonderful.”

I nodded. “Mmm. Mine too.”

We started to walk together; I took a deep breath. “Listen, Mum. I … I'm sorry about what I said earlier.”

“Earlier?” She looked at me in surprise. “Darling, you shouldn't be sorry. You were right, Jess. Absolutely right. I've been a terrible mother. I am well aware of that.”

“No, you haven't,” I said, then bit my lip. “I mean, you know, you have a bit, but it wasn't your fault. I know that.”

“Really?” She looked at me hopefully. “You know, Jessica, I haven't fallen on my feet much in my life. I tend to find the rather big potholes and end up falling into them instead. I know I've let you down, but you've turned out so wonderfully. I don't think I'd have done half as well if it had been left to me.”

“Rubbish,” I protested. “You'd have been great. And I would have had much better dress sense.”

She smiled. “Yes, your grandma never really saw the point of clothes except to keep you warm.”

“Was she …” I looked at my mother hesitantly. “Was she as
strict? I mean, when you were growing up? Was she always like that, or was it because …”

“Because of me?” My mother looked thoughtful. “I don't know, darling. I know she was fairly strict with me, but it didn't make much difference, because I didn't listen to her much. I was always the one climbing out of windows to go to parties.”

“The windows had locks by the time I was there,” I said ruefully. “Not that I never tried to climb out of one. I guess I don't have your rebellious streak.”

“You've got more ambition than me though,” my mother said with a little shrug. “You've worked hard and now look at you. You're a success. A huge success. You're marrying Max, you've got a great job, you've got lots of money …”

She shot me a sidelong glance and I bristled slightly. “I didn't work for the money,” I said. “I mean, that was luck. Kind of.”

“Luck doesn't exist, darling. We make our own luck, you should know that. In this case, you must have really won over that rich old lady. I'm sure you were very important to her.”

I frowned. “She was important to me, too. Grace was … She was a real friend,” I said, my voice catching, taking me by surprise.

“And now you never need to worry about money again.”

My frown deepened. “Sure, but money isn't that important. Not really.”

My mother smiled brightly. “Not when you don't need it, darling. Then it isn't important,” she said.

We had reached the reception area, but something was niggling at me. “The money Max gave you,” I said, putting my arm out to stop my mother. “What was it really for?”

She turned to look at me defensively. “Max was very generous. I needed some help, finding somewhere to live, that's all …”

“But where were you living before? I mean, what changed?”

My mother looked at me for a moment, then forced a smile. “Nothing, darling,” she said briskly. “Nothing changed.”

“Tell me,” I demanded, standing stock-still; reluctantly, she stopped, too.

She sighed. Then she took a deep breath. “Max was a dear. I'd told him about my problems, you see. And he was wonderfully helpful.”

“Problems?”

My mother bit her lip. “Darling, I have a few debts. Very old ones. Nothing too serious, but the people I owe money to—they can be very … tenacious. Unpleasant. And now that I'm … well, anyway Max helped me to rid myself of them for a little while. To give me a little space, that's all. I'll pay him back. Pay you back. Really I will.”

I stared at her. “I don't need you to pay us back. But he gave you over £15,000. Just how much do you owe in total?”

She blushed awkwardly. “Really darling, it doesn't matter. I can take care of myself. There's no need for you to get involved.”

“How much?”

She looked at me imploringly. “Jessica, please …”

“How much? I need to know.”

“Well, if you must.” She sighed and looked down at the ground. “It's a hundred thousand.”

“A hundred thousand?” My eyes widened.

“You see? Now I wish I hadn't told you. Jessica, look, this is really nothing to do with you. I'll pay Max back and I'll find the money myself. Can we change the subject now?”

“How will you find it?”

“I don't know,” she said defensively, starting to walk again. “But I'll get it somehow. I'll pay it all back, and then they'll leave me alone. Then I can settle down.”

“Settle down?” I grabbed her. “You mean you've been on the run?”

She shook her head. “You make it all sound so dramatic, darling. I'm not on the run. I just haven't … haven't found a place, a
permanent home, not really … I mean, I have a nice apartment for the time being. St. John's Wood. You must come by sometime. But it's not home. Not really …”

I blushed slightly, remembering how I'd hid outside her apartment just a few days before. “I thought you put all this behind you when you left me at Grandma's. I thought the whole point was that you could start over?”

She nodded tightly. “I did.”

“So why are they on your tail …?” I met her eyes and suddenly realized the truth. “It's me, isn't it?”

“No, Jessica.”

“No?” I looked at her intently and she smiled sadly.

“I'm not a very noble person, Jess. You can't afford to be noble when … well, it doesn't matter. The fact of the matter is, I'm not entirely proud of how I've lived my life, but I daresay I'd do it all the same way if I had a second chance. We can't escape our natures, you see. But I have always had one regret. I wanted to see you, Jessica,” she said. “To see what had become of you.”

“And they tracked you down?”

“I thought they'd have forgotten all about it. About you, I mean. I'd been Esther Short for so long. But it turns out they'd been watching you all along, waiting to see if I'd emerge from the dead. Turns out they were never convinced by the road accident after all.”

I decided not to dwell on the fact that people had been watching me. Even though it made my blood run cold. This was not about me, after all. “They found you again?”

“It's not your problem, Jessica. You're perfectly safe. It's me they want. So please, let's drop it, shall we?”

“I'm not worried about my safety, I'm worried about you. And I don't want to drop it.”

“You don't have a choice, Jessica,” my mother said firmly, then
turned and started to walk again; I followed her in silence back to the changing rooms.

“Ah. You are here.” The changing rooms were fairly empty, other than Ivana parading around in a black thong and bra out of which her breasts were bursting.

“Good treatment?” I asked tentatively.

“Pah!” she said. “I tich her.”

“You what?” I looked at her uncertainly.

“She not so good at massage. I tich her.”

“You taught her?” I gulped. “Ivana, you realize this is a different sort of massage to … I mean, what exactly did you teach her?”

Ivana rolled her eyes. “You think I know only sexy massage? No. I know massage. I know getting into knots and meking good relexation. She no know. I tich her.”

I met my mother's eyes; they were twinkling with laughter. “Good for you,” she said to Ivana, taking off her robe. I didn't mean to look, but I did, and once I had, I couldn't look away. She looked up, feeling my eyes on her, and reddened.

“You're looking at my scar,” she said lightly. “Terrible, isn't it?”

I shook my head, embarrassed, but it was true, I was. My mother, who was tall, slim, elegant, beautiful even, had a deep rivet down her stomach, starting at her belly button and finishing at her panty line. I didn't know why I couldn't take my eyes off of it; it was just so unexpected, such an imperfection on an otherwise perfect body.

“You had an operation?” I asked, forcing myself to look away.

“Of sorts,” she said, pulling a towel back around her. “That was you, Jess. An emergency C-section. They didn't do those nice little openings back then. It was quite an ordeal getting you to come out.”

“That was me?”

“Yes, darling.” She started to get dressed.

“God, I'm sorry,” I said. “I mean, really sorry.”

“No need, darling. What's done is done.”

“But it's huge,” I said uncertainly.

“It's a permanent reminder that I had a daughter. Have a daughter,” she said, biting her lip. “You see? I couldn't have forgotten you even if I'd wanted to.”

“And did you? Want to?” I felt myself welling up.

“Of course not,” she said, holding out her hand to take mine. Then she let it go. “Of course it means bikinis are out,” she said with a shrug. “But one-pieces are often more flattering.”

“I only wear bikini,” Ivana said darkly. “This is why I cannot have baby. Sean no understand what it mins. He no get fet.”

“But the weight goes eventually,” my mother said. “And motherhood's worth the sacrifice. I mean it, Ivana.”

“Really?” Ivana looked at her uncertainly. “But you give away bebe. You no like.”

“I did like my baby,” my mother said quietly. “I just couldn't look after her. They're two different things. Very different.”

“Mebe I can't either,” Ivana said, not sounding very sure now. “Mebe I like, or not like. Mebe I tek my shower now.”

We both nodded as Ivana disappeared.

I looked at my mother carefully. “So … do you mind if I ask you something?” I asked tentatively.

She nodded, a slightly worried expression on her face. “Of course. Anything.”

I paused for a moment.

“What, darling?” she asked, looking apprehensive now. “What is it?”

“Grandma,” I said. “Your mother.”

“Yes?” She nodded. “What about her?”

I sat down. “Was she as bad when she was looking after you? I
mean, did she tell you that if you wore makeup you'd be a hussy and no one would ever take you seriously? Did she ban you from leaving the house after 6
P.M.
? Did she?”

My mother grinned, and I immediately felt a small sense of camaraderie. “Oh God, she was awful, wasn't she?”

“I thought if I took a puff of a cigarette I'd be addicted to heroin for the rest of my life,” I said tentatively, allowing myself a little smile. “And as for alcohol …”

“The devil's drink,” my mother deadpanned in a perfect “Grandma” voice.

She walked over and sat down next to me. “I'm sorry, Jess. I thought … Look, I know she was a battle-ax, but she meant well.”

“I know she did,” I said. “I mean, I loved her. She sacrificed …” I met my mother's eyes. “Well, you know, she looked after me.”

“I wish I'd been able to,” my mother said. “But then again, I'm not sure I would have been a very good role model. Mum—your grandma—she always said I was her first failure.” She smiled ruefully and I took her hand.

“You're not a failure.”

“Yes, darling, I am. Always have been, always will be. I'm weak, you see. Can't help it. I always …” She met my eyes, then looked down.

“Always what?” I asked gently.

“Always let people down.” She stood up and walked back to her locker. I thought for a moment, then dug out my bag and took out my checkbook.

“A hundred thousand pounds?” I asked.