I Think I'll Just Curl Up and Die (6 page)

It had been great at the crèche. Surrounded by all those little ones, doing finger painting and playing in the sand had reminded her of the days when Jemma was little. And lovable. And biddable. But Ellie, the regular girl, had got over her bug and was back in full swing. Where do I go from here? thought Claire.

Similar thoughts were weighing heavily on Henry Joseph's mind that morning. He had just shown a couple barely out of their teens round one of the new starter homes on the Ibstock estate, and become increasingly depressed as he listened to their excited chatter. It reminded him of when he and Anona got married, and lived in that poky little flat at the top of an old Victorian house. But they had thought it was paradise.

He had had such hopes, such aspirations. Oh, he knew that by many people's standards he had done well – senior member of a respected firm of estate agents, nice house on Billing Hill, son at private school. But what was it all for? What did it mean? And if he died tomorrow, what mark would he have left on the world?

Even the hopes he had cherished for Jon seemed to be coming to nothing. Once Henry realised that his own
career was never going to hit the heights, he'd hung all his hopes on being the father of Jon Joseph, renowned barrister. This art school idea of his was, Henry feared, no mere flash in the pan. The lad spent all his spare time sketching and painting and designing and now his mother was launching herself into this design lark, they would probably both be in huddles talking about Rembrandt and Andy Warhol and he'd feel left out.

He couldn't bear the thought of being shut out of Jon's life. He had always assumed he and Anona would have a whole brood of kids but it hadn't worked out like that. He had to hang on to Jon. He had to think of some way of strengthening the bond, of remaining a big part of his life.

As it turned out, fate was due to give him a helping hand.

By Saturday afternoon, Mrs Turnbull knew she couldn't put it off any longer. Laura was going out to The Stomping Ground for the evening and Melvyn was coming for Sunday lunch the following day. If she didn't tell her the news now, she wouldn't get a chance and
Melvyn was in such a state of excitement that he would be bound to let something slip and that would be a recipe for disaster.

She tapped on Laura's bedroom door.

‘Can I come in, love?' she asked.

A muffled grunt emitted from the other side.

Laura, her ginger hair scooped back in a hair band, was sitting in front of her dressing table mirror, frowning, open-mouthed, and wielding an eyeliner pencil.

‘Are you OK now?' Laura enquired. Her mother had been sick again that morning – but then, she'd been out with Mrs Gee the evening before, so they had probably been drinking vast quantities of wine. She couldn't be properly ill because she was always fine by the time Laura got home from school.

‘Well, not really, that is …' Oh gosh, this isn't going to be easy, thought Mrs Turnbull, flopping down on Laura's bed and running her fingers through her hair. Where do I begin?

‘What is it? You're not
still
ill, are you?' said Laura accusingly.

‘No. Yes. Well, sort of,' began her mother, ‘the thing is …'

‘Oh my God,' interrupted Laura, dropping her eyeliner pencil on the floor and turning to her mother. ‘You've got one of those awful diseases, haven't you? That's why you keep throwing up. You've been given weeks to live, and I'm going to be an orphan – oh my … '

‘NO! No, of course I haven't. Don't be daft – there's nothing wrong with me. Well, not like that anyway,' said Mrs Turnbull. ‘The thing is – well, actually -' she took a deep breath, ‘I'm pregnant.'

Laura stared at her mother in disbelief.

‘You're – WHAT?' she exclaimed.

‘I'm going to have a baby,' said her mother, smiling in what she hoped was a confident and relaxed manner. ‘Sometime early March, I guess.'

‘A baby – YOU? But you can't – I mean – that's disgusting!' shouted Laura, knocking over a pot of foundation in her fury. ‘You – at your age – having a baby! Oh Mum, how could you?' Laura's eyes filled with angry tears. ‘I suppose that jerk Melvyn is responsible?'

‘Well, yes, he did have something to do with it,' said Ruth wryly. ‘Who do you think?'

‘But – that's disgusting!' she cried. ‘You'll have to get rid of it!'

‘LAURA!' Ruth exploded. ‘That's a terrible, terrible thing to say. I want – we want – this baby.' Yes, she thought in surprise. Yes, I really do. She took a deep breath. ‘I admit, it took me by surprise at first, but now I'm delighted. And when you get used to the idea, you'll be thrilled too. Just think, a little brother or sister.'

‘But what do you want a baby for?' asked Laura. ‘You've got me.'

Her mother pulled Laura to her. ‘Look, love, it won't make a single difference to the way I feel about you, if
that's what's worrying you. I love you to bits and I always will – no baby in the world is going to alter that.'

‘God, what will my friends say?' cried Laura, wriggling free of her mother's embrace. ‘What will your friends say – Chelsea's mum will be disgusted.'

‘Actually, she's being very supportive,' began Ruth.

‘Oh I see – so you told her before you own daughter! See how much you care.'

‘I only told her because she was here and I was sick and she guessed,' sighed Ruth. ‘No one else knows – except Melvyn, of course.'

‘So you haven't told Dad?' demanded Laura.

‘No, no of course not. Not yet,' said Ruth.

‘Well, I should think he will be devastated,' shouted Laura. ‘His own wife – with that jerk –'

‘Laura, listen. I am not Dad's wife any more as you know full well. Dad and I are not a couple; we're divorced. What he does is no business of mine, and what I choose to do is no concern of his. And you are going to have to learn to accept that fact.'

Laura burst into hot tears. ‘You're ruining my entire life, you know that, don't you? First of all you dump Dad, then you go around with someone half your age … '

Ruth sighed. ‘Seven years younger than me, actually – and I didn't dump Dad, as you put it. He met someone else.'

Her daughter was in no mood to listen to reason.

‘ … and then you get pregnant. You'll be puking all
over the place and then you'll get all fat and gross and everyone will know what you've been doing. I HATE YOU!'

She stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door. A crack appeared on the landing ceiling. Ruth sat on the bed wondering whether entering the minefield called motherhood for a second time was such a good idea after all.

‘We'll talk about it some more tomorrow – Melvyn's coming for lunch,' ventured Ruth through the keyhole.

‘Then I shall be out,' shouted Laura. ‘I have no intention of being in the same room as that pervert.'

Ten minutes later, the telephone rang. It was Chelsea.

‘Hi, Mrs Turnbull, can I have a word with Laura, please?'

Ruth called up the stairs. ‘Laura, it's Chelsea for you.'

A red-eyed Laura appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘I can't talk to anyone,' she sniffed. ‘I'm in shock.'

‘Um, Chelsea, Laura's a little bit tied up right now … yes, tonight? All right, seven-thirty. Who? Oh, all right. Yes, yes I'll tell her. Bye, Chelsea.'

‘Mrs Gee will pick you up at seven-thirty,' said Laura's mum. ‘So you had better smarten up pretty sharpish and put a smile on your face.'

‘I don't think,' said Laura dramatically, ‘that I shall ever smile again.'

Laura turned to go into her bedroom.

‘Oh and Chelsea said … '

The door slammed. Oh forget it, thought Ruth. What's the point of my making an effort when she's in this frame of mind? I don't suppose it matters whether she knows Jon someone or other is going or not.

At seven-twenty, Mrs Gee rang the Turnbulls' front door bell.

‘Sorry we're early, but is Laura ready?' she asked when Ruth opened the door. Her friend was looking markedly less pallid than when she last saw her.

‘Yes I am,' Laura thundered downstairs, grabbed her bag and marched out of the house without saying a word.

‘I take it,' mouthed Ginny to Ruth, ‘Madam now knows of the new arrival.'

Ruth nodded.

‘I won't ask how she took it,' said Ginny.

Laura sat silently staring out of the car window all the way into town. Since her friends usually found it hard to get a word in edgeways when she was around, this was somewhat
noticeable. Normally, Chelsea's mum would have filled any awkward silences with a stream of bright chat but she was unusually subdued as well. I guess there's a first time for everything, thought Chelsea.

In fact, Mrs Gee was brooding on just what her husband was up to. He had left the house at eight thirty that morning, and when she had asked where he was off to, he had merely tapped the side of his nose and said, ‘Ask no questions, hear no lies,' and departed.

And he still wasn't back.

She just hoped it was a job interview, but she didn't think it was likely on a Saturday.

‘I can't wait to meet Bilu,' Chelsea said, trying to break the silence and wondering just what had got into Laura. She had thought she would be over the moon at the thought of seeing Jon again.

‘Mmm,' muttered Laura. It'll cry all night and puke all day, she thought.

‘Is Rob going to be there tonight?' Jemma asked Chelsea.

‘Yes,' said Chelsea, with a dreamy smile on her lips. … I told you, he's coming with …'

‘Now listen,' interrupted Chelsea's mum, pulling up outside The Stomping Ground, ‘I'll meet you at eleven o'clock sharp. I don't want to be kept waiting.'

During those first awkward moments when you want to look as though you are with a guy even if you are not, Jemma and Chelsea grabbed a corner table and got some
Cokes. Laura sat moodily stirring her drink with a straw and planning various horrible deaths for Melvyn.

Just as she had got to the bit where Melvyn fell into a water butt and drowned, Rob turned up. Chelsea spotted him lurking by the door, and remembering her vow to go for it, she dashed over, planted a kiss on his lips and said ‘Hi, darling'. Rob turned an interesting shade resembling a lobster and scanned the room anxiously.

‘Come on, we're over there in the corner,' urged Chelsea, slipping her arm through Rob's and pulling him across the floor.

There was no sign of Jon but Chelsea thought it wiser not to say anything. Laura seemed moody enough without making things worse.

Laura's ponderings about the merits of poisoning by toadstool over death by electrocution were interrupted by the arrival of Sumitha and Bilu.

‘Hi everyone, this is Bilu,' said Sumitha, as proudly as if she had hand-crafted him herself.

‘Well, hi there,' said Bilu, flashing a detergent white grin at them all. ‘How are you doing?'

‘Hi,' they chorused. He was tall, lean and wore immaculately cut jeans that definitely did not come from a market stall. His dark hair curled into the nape of his neck without any of those straggly bits that lesser mortals get and his broad smile revealed a set of even teeth. His carefully managed casual pose against the wall suggested that he knew he was dynamite.

Nice legs, thought Chelsea.

Great bum, thought Jemma.

How could my mother do it to me? thought Laura.

‘So this is the infamous Stomping Ground,' said Bilu, surveying the dance floor. ‘What are you drinking, Sumitha?'

‘Coke, please,' she said breathlessly, aware that all her friends were pretty impressed.

Bilu laughed. ‘Yes, I suppose on teenyboppers' night that's all we're going to get, isn't it? Bye bye Bacardi.'

Sumitha looked surprised. ‘You don't drink, do you?'

‘Now what made you think that, my little one,' said Bilu in patronising tones.

‘Well, Dad said that Bengali boys …' began Sumitha.

‘Oh, your dad. Anyway,' interrupted Bilu, ‘let's show them how it's done,' and he whirled Sumitha on to the dance floor.

‘What do you think?' asked Jemma, after they had disappeared.

‘He's OK,' said Chelsea, grudgingly. ‘If you like that sort of thing.'

‘Which I don't,' said Rob shortly, looking at the door. Oh whoopee, thought Chelsea, he's jealous.

‘You're nicer,' she whispered to Rob. Rob swallowed and said, ‘I'll just go and get some crisps.'

‘Bilu's a bit big for his boots, if you ask me,' said Jemma. ‘What do you reckon, Laura?'

Laura was staring into space.

‘Laura,' said Chelsea, poking her arm, ‘what do you think?'

Laura blinked. ‘About what?'

‘Oh for heaven's sake,' said Chelsea, ‘you've been in a dream world all evening.'

‘A nightmare world, more like,' said Laura with a catch in her voice.

Chelsea appeared not to hear. She had to keep Rob's attention firmly on her. What was it Mum said? ‘Sometimes a woman has to take the lead.'

‘Come on, Rob,' she said and dragged a still bewildered Rob on to the dance floor.

Jemma tried to look interested in the contents of her glass and wished someone would ask her to dance. Laura sniffed noisily.

‘What's wrong?' asked Jemma.

‘Oh, just leave me alone,' snapped Laura. ‘I'm going to get another drink.'

She blundered across to the Coke bar, blinking furiously in an attempt to stop the tears which threatened to spill over any second.

‘Hey, look out!'

Laura felt something wet running down her arm.

‘Look where you're going, can't you? That's half my Dr Pepper down the drain.' That voice was familiar. It sounded like Jon.