Forget Me Knot (22 page)

She was still staring at them, tears trailing down her cheeks, when the phone rang. She looked at the kitchen clock. It was almost one. The phone ringing after eleven always frightened her. She tended to fear the worst—that somebody was ill or had had an accident. She felt herself starting to shake. Oh, God. No. Toby had crashed the car and this was the hospital phoning to say he was in intensive
care, barely clinging to life. Or worse. Eventually she picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Abby, is that you?” Jean’s voice singsonged. “Mum here.”

Abby had never felt so relieved to hear the familiar voice.

“Mum!… It’s you. Oh, thank God. The phone ringing so late scared the life out of me.” She paused. Her relief that nothing had happened to Toby turned to fear that her parents had finally succumbed to typhoid or something similar. She felt herself turn cold. “Mum, is everything all right? Is Dad OK?”

“Yes, yes, we’re both fine. Sorry to call at this hour, but there’s been a problem with the satellite phone…. Just to say, there have been some new developments this end, and I thought you should know what’s going on before you read about it in the newspapers.”

“Read about what in the newspapers?”

“Well, you see, the thing is, the sewage thing is still pretty bad. In fact, it’s getting worse. The lower decks are awash with mess and dirty shower water. We’re getting no help from the captain. He simply refuses to do anything. We’ve contacted the cruise line and asked for our money back and for compensation on top. They’ve agreed to the refund and to bring us home straightaway, but they’re refusing to compensate us.”

“But that’s a complete no-brainer,” Abby said. “They’ll never get away with that.”

“I know, but suing could take years. Anyway, I had this brilliant idea—I’ve persuaded all the passengers to stage a sit-in.”

“A what?”

“A sit-in. You know, like students used to do in the sixties and seventies.”

“Sorry, I’m still not with you.”

“OK—the ship is on its way back to Argentina. When it reaches Buenos Aires, we will refuse to disembark until a compensation settlement has been agreed upon.”

“Oh, brilliant. You’re telling me that the lot of you are going to sit in all that filth and put your health at even more risk—all for the sake of a few quid.”

“It isn’t just a few quid. It could be several thousand quid. And it’s the principle. These people took our money without checking that the ship was in an adequate state of repair, and now they’re shirking their financial obligation to their customers. They simply cannot be allowed to get away with it.”

Abby was shaking her head in disbelief. “And this protest thing is entirely your idea?”

“Yes. I don’t know where it came from. All I know is that I’ve never felt this angry in my life. I could feel this seething… this red-hot rage taking hold of me, and I simply couldn’t hold it in. For the first time in my life I knew I couldn’t run away. I had to stand up and fight.”

Abby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Jean hardly ever got angry. She certainly never seethed. And as for “red-hot rage” motivating her to take up a cause, it was unheard of. Abby simply couldn’t get over how fired up her mother seemed. Jean the meek and mild had turned into Jean the revolutionary firebrand.

“We’re all busy making banners out of sheets for when the TV cameras arrive.”

“TV cameras?”

“You bet. I phoned all the newspapers and the BBC. I think this could be a huge story. We dock in Buenos Aires in a few days, so look out for me. I’ll be the one leading everybody in ‘We Will Overcome.’ ”

Just then Hugh came on the phone.

“Hello, poppet—everything all right your end?”

Abby assured him all was well her end.

“Just to say, your mum and I are OK and not to worry. I simply can’t believe your mother. I never knew she had such a fighting spirit. You should hear how she’s been rallying the troops. I think maybe we’ve underestimated her and there’s more of Grandpa Enoch’s zeal in her than anybody imagined.”

“Could be,” Abby said, preferring to believe that her mother’s newfound passion had less to do with Enoch’s genes and more to do with finally releasing the long-suppressed anger she felt toward the old bugger.

By now Jean was back on the line.

“Some of the passengers already have the runs, but they’re not giving in. We refuse to let these people treat us like this. It’s time for ordinary people to rise up, seize the day and let these corporate giants know that the little man cannot be bullied. Power to the people! That’s what I say. Things have got to change. You know what, Abby—I have a dream…”

It was all Abby could do not to burst out laughing. “OK, Mum, you and Dad knock ’em dead, but promise me you’ll take care of yourselves and of each other and that if you get ill you’ll leave the ship.”

Silence.

“Mum, speak to me.” But the line was dead.

THE MOMENT
Abby woke up, everything that had happened last night came flooding back. To help her fight back fresh tears, she turned on the radio. It occurred to her that the
Bantry
story might have made the news. She managed to catch the headlines at the beginning of the eight o’clock bulletin, but there was no mention of it. Clearly the media were waiting until the ship docked and the protest got under way.

She went to take a shower. Afterward, while she was getting dressed, the phone rang. It was Toby. He sounded anxious and quite desperate. “Abby, we really need to talk. I made a terrible mistake over the ring, and I want you to know that I’m sorry. What I did was unkind and unthinking.”

“I’d agree with that,” she said.

“I really think we need to talk,” he went on.

She took a few moments to consider this. “OK, you’re probably right. We do need to talk.”

“Great. The problem is that I have to go to New York this afternoon. Some massive emergency has cropped up, but all being well, I’ll be back on Friday. We’ll talk then, OK?”

“OK.”

“I love you.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Abby, please say that you love me. I don’t want to go away and leave things like this.”

Her mouth tried to form the words, but they wouldn’t come. Then she found herself thinking about his plane crashing and how she would feel if he died thinking she didn’t love him.

“Love you,” she heard herself say, but there was no feeling behind the words. She felt numb and empty.

AT ABOUT
half past nine, Soph popped in on her way to the hairdresser. One Saturday a month she had a cut and blow-dry at TONI&GUY down the road. She arrived a couple of minutes after Martin.

“I just can’t get over what Toby did,” Soph said, giving her friend a hug. “What was he thinking?”

Martin looked blank, so Soph brought him up to speed.

“Hang on,” Martin said to Abby. “You’re telling me he gave you the same ring he gave to his ex-fiancée? Geddout…”

Abby shrugged. “It’s true. But what you don’t know is that this Claudia dumped him because they weren’t having sex.”

Martin and Soph exchanged knowing glances.

“All in all, Toby and I have some pretty serious talking to do, wouldn’t you say?”

Soph squeezed Abby’s hand.

“I always liked Toby,” Martin said, “but right now I’d like to throttle him with one of his Versace ties.”

Abby managed a smile. “That’s very sweet of you, Scozza. I appreciate the thought.”

“Ooh, it would be my pleasure.”

Abby asked if they could change the subject. “I don’t want to talk about the Toby situation anymore. It’s just too upsetting and I’ll only start blubbing.” For a few moments nobody could think of anything to say. It was Soph who broke the silence and asked about Jean and Hugh.

“Omigod,” Abby said, “you won’t believe what’s happened.”

She told them about the proposed sit-in. Soph, who had known Jean and Hugh since she was a child, couldn’t get over it.

“Your parents? Mr. and Mrs. Model Citizen? Well, good for them. It’s about time ordinary people stood up for themselves and refused to be bullied by these hoodlums.”

“I just hope they don’t get ill in the process,” Abby said.

Clearly not thinking, Martin said he had watched a TV documentary last week on the ease with which typhoid and cholera bacteria spread.

“Thanks for sharing that,” Abby said, and they all sat in glum silence again.

“OK, since we’re feeling down,” Soph said, “why don’t we go the whole hog and talk about my love life?”

Abby frowned. “Oh, God, don’t tell me something has happened between you and Lamar—who is a great guy, by the way. I really took to him.”

The comment caused Soph to beam with pleasure. “I’m glad. No, nothing has happened between us. It’s my parents. My mum phoned yesterday. She’s come to the conclusion that since I seem so happy these days, I must be seeing somebody. I made the mistake of confessing that I was indeed seeing somebody, and now she and Dad are insisting that I bring Lamar home for dinner, and I don’t know what to do.”

Body image and sartorial matters aside, it was almost unheard of for Soph to let her vulnerable side show. Abby could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times her friend had ended a sentence with “and I don’t know what to do.”

“So, take him home,” Martin said. “You’re seeing a gorgeous Jewish doctor. Talk about fulfilling every Jewish parent’s dream. What’s your problem?”

“You know what the problem is.”

“That he’s black?” Martin said. “But they must know he’s black. How many white men are called Lamar?”

“I convinced them it was Hebrew. I said it meant apothecary.”

Abby and Martin burst out laughing.

“Well, I’d like to see the two of you come up with something better,” Soph said, making a hurt face and folding her arms like a defiant eight-year-old.

“I can’t believe they bought it,” Abby said, still laughing.

“It was easy. They know hardly any Hebrew, and I pointed out that Lamar sort of rhymes with
Shema
, the Jewish daily prayer.”

“But I don’t know why you didn’t tell them Lamar is black,” Abby said. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Your dad is always going on about how he despises all forms of racism. He told me that, before the war, his father fought the Blackshirts in the East End. On top of that, your parents lost family in the Holocaust. How could they possibly be racist?”

Soph shrugged. “They’re not. On the surface, at least. If one of my friends was seeing somebody who was black, they wouldn’t have the remotest problem with it. I’m just not sure they are going to feel the same way about me bringing a black guy home.”

Martin was leaning against the counter, thinking. “OK, maybe I’m overanalyzing this, but I can’t help wondering if you’re actually voicing your own doubts and anxieties about having a black boyfriend slash husband and transferring them onto your mum and dad.”

Soph bridled visibly. “Are you accusing me of being
racist? How can you say that? If I were, I would never have started going out with Lamar.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Martin said, straightening. “All I’m saying is that, even as a nonracist, you’re bound to be aware of the prejudice that white people with black partners come up against. I’m gay. I know a bit about prejudice. I know how it feels to walk down the street holding a man’s hand and see people pointing and sniggering. It’s not easy.”

Soph became thoughtful. “OK, maybe you’re right. If I’m honest, I have been thinking about how I’d feel if we got married and had children and they came up against racial abuse. I don’t think I could bear it. It would break my heart.” She turned to Abby. “You know me, I’m totally fearless about most things, and now suddenly I’m really scared. And there’s something else that frightens me, too. If my parents can’t accept Lamar, I would have to choose between them and him, and I know I would choose him.”

“Hey, it won’t come to that,” Abby said. “You’re getting this thing totally out of proportion. But you have to tell them—partly for Lamar’s sake. It can’t be easy knowing that the woman he loves is struggling to tell her parents that he’s black.”

“You’re right,” Soph said to Abby. “I’ll do it.”

“When?” Abby said.

“Soon, I promise.”

ABBY SPENT
the rest of the morning taking phone orders or serving customers. She was functioning pretty much on automatic pilot. Her thoughts weren’t really on work. They
were taken up with Toby. About midday, just as she was putting the finishing touches to a spring-flower centerpiece, she heard a familiar voice. “So, how do you fancy going out for lunch to celebrate?”

She looked up. The second she saw Dan’s face, her spirits lifted and her face broke into a broad smile. “Hi, this is a nice surprise,” she said. “What are we celebrating?”

“I’ve had the contract drawn up,” he said, waving an envelope in the air. “I thought you could sign it and then I’d buy you lunch to seal the deal. And if it’s OK with you, we’d like to start filming next week.”

“That soon,” she said, taking the envelope from him.

He tilted his head to one side. “You seem a bit down,” he said. “You OK?”

She made an excuse about orders piling up and not sleeping very well.