Love and Devotion (39 page)

After unpacking the shopping and filling a hot-water bottle, he insisted she went to bed. They both knew they were minutes away from saying goodbye and not knowing if they would ever see one another again. ‘I’ll ring you tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘And don’t worry about the
Jennifer Rose.
I’ll arrange for her to be taken to the marina.’ He sat on the bed and hugged her briefly. It was a wrench to let go.

Her last words to him were: ‘Be kind to yourself, Bob. As kind as you’ve been to me.’

 

Harriet arrived home to find Joel and Carrie helping Eileen to butter some rolls. ‘We’re making hotdogs,’ Joel told Harriet importantly. ‘Granddad’s in the garden setting up the fireworks.’

She put her bag down on the worktop. ‘Anything I can do to help, Mum?’

‘That’s all right, love. We’ve got it all in hand. Carrie, a little less Flora; too much and the sausage will slide out. How was your day, dear? Oh, I nearly forgot, I’ve invited Will. I thought it was time we had him over for a drink. Dora said she’d pop in as well. We’ll be quite a little party. Oh, and there’s some post for you. It looks like estate agents’ details.’ She pointed to the microwave and the pile of mail on top of it.

Harriet wondered if she’d come home to the right house. Her mother was a different woman from the one she’d said goodbye to that morning. There was a sense of purpose about her that had been missing these last few weeks. Harriet hoped that by pulling out all the stops this evening, her mother wouldn’t feel too shattered tomorrow.

She took her mail upstairs and while she exchanged her work clothes for something suitable for standing around in the freezing cold, she checked out the house details two agents had sent her. One house in particular caught her eye; a small end-of-terrace cottage overlooking the canal, on the outskirts of Kings Melford and on the Maywood road. It was at the top end of her budget, but on paper it looked promising. It had already been renovated and had a small extension added onto the side. It was too late now to make an appointment to view it, but it would be first on her list of jobs to do in the morning. She finished dressing, grabbing a scarf and her favourite old black beret, then went downstairs to see if there was anything she could do to help.

 

With Marty’s news still fresh in his mind, Will wasn’t in the mood for a party, even a low-key firework party. But he reasoned it would be better than mooching around on his own.

‘Some things you never see coming,’ Marty had said to him when they parted in the market. ‘This is definitely one of them.’

‘You will keep me posted, won’t you?’ Will had said. ‘And if you fancy some company for any of the sessions with the consultant, you’ll be in touch?’

‘You’ll be uppermost in my mind.’

Marty’s stoicism really got to Will. If it had been him, he didn’t think he’d behave so calmly. It seemed worse, too, that Marty was going through this alone, not having a wife or girlfriend to fuss over him. But then who the hell would fuss over Will? When it came right down to it, apart from his mother, he had only Marty and Jarvis to count on. There were people in the trade whom he occasionally had a drink with, and even the odd couple from his married days who stayed in touch by Christmas card, but no one other than Ruby, Marty and Jarvis who he would want to call on if the chips were down. It was a depressing thought.

He’d been told not to bother knocking on the front door, but to go round to the back. It was there he found Bob lining up a row of rockets; with difficulty he was pushing the sticks into the ground. ‘It’s so cold; the ground’s freezing,’ he said.

‘No buckets of sand, then?’

‘Sorry, not that organised.’

Will looked around the garden, his gaze coming to rest on a children’s sandpit on the patio. ‘How about we move that to the middle of the lawn and stick the rockets in the sand?’

‘Already thought of that. The sand’s not deep enough.’

‘Nothing else for it: we’ll have to push them into the ground as best we can.’

They worked steadily together and had just finished the task, having only snapped one of the rocket sticks, when Carrie and Joel appeared, each carrying a can of beer. ‘Harriet thought you would like these,’ Carrie said.

‘Or would you prefer something else?’ Harriet said, following behind. ‘A glass of wine maybe?’

‘No, this is great,’ Will said. Better than great, he thought, unable to take his eyes off Harriet. She looked totally irresistible in that beret. Cute. Sweet. Sassy. But most of all, incredibly sexy. He popped open his beer and told himself to behave. Hitting on your host’s daughter was not the done thing.

If there had been any doubt in his mind that he had imagined his attraction to Harriet, the matter was now settled. Now all he had to do was convince her that an older man in her life was just what she needed.

 

 

 

 

Maxine’s greatest regret in divorcing Will was the effect it had had on her relationship with his mother. Ruby Hart was one of the nicest and most straightforward women Maxine knew and had always gone out of her way to make her ex daughter-in-law still feel a part of her family. Initially Maxine had been reluctant to accept any of Ruby’s invitations to get together, convinced that they were made out of a sense of duty. She was, after all, the mother of Ruby’s only grandchildren. But in time she came to realise that the invitations were as sincere as Ruby herself. ‘Don’t be a stranger,’ she used to say. ‘You know where I am if you fancy a cuppa and a chat.’

Today, while Steve was at home watching the rugby, she and Suzie and Gemma were taking Nana Ruby out for afternoon tea. Maxine turned into the estate and parked in front of the neat little bungalow. Give him his due, Maxine thought, as she walked up the path with the girls, Will did his best when it came to his mother; he always kept an eye on her as well as doing whatever odd jobs needed doing around the house. She knew this because Ruby was inordinately proud of her son and was never shy in singing his praises to Maxine. Maxine had long since realised that it wasn’t an act of rubbing her nose in it, just an act of love. But as devoted to her only child as she was, Ruby had once told Maxine that she wasn’t blinkered when it came to his faults. ‘I’m not one of those silly mothers who thinks the sun shines out of their children’s behinds. Far from it. But I do believe Will’s a good son and an excellent father.’

Dressed to the nines in a smart knitted suit with a glittery brooch on the lapel, Ruby greeted them with hugs and kisses and her usual stream of compliments and keen-eyed observations: ‘Maxine, what a stunning trouser suit, but how tired you look! You must be working too hard ... Gemma, how colourful your hair is! How I wish I could be as daring.’ But the biggest whoop of pleasure was reserved for Suzie. ‘Ooh, look at you, Suzie! You must have doubled in size since I last saw you. You look just like your mother did when she was pregnant — wonderfully voluptuous, just as nature intended! Now sit yourselves down while I finish switching handbags.’

Maxine recognised the handbag that Ruby was exchanging for her everyday one, and was touched; it was the bag she’d given Ruby for Christmas last year, the price of which would horrify the older woman if she ever knew. Maxine never begrudged a penny she spent on Ruby, not when she’d been such a loving grandmother to the girls.

‘What do you think of this lipstick?’ Ruby was saying to Gemma and Suzie, while puckering her lips. ‘A bit too young for me, do you think?’

‘No way, Nana,’ Gemma said. ‘It looks great on you.’ The generosity of the comment gave Maxine a prickle of envy. Gemma never said anything nice about her appearance. But then rarely could Maxine think of anything nice to say about her daughter’s attire. Last night Gemma had spent an hour in the bathroom ruining her lovely blonde hair by applying garish pink streaks to it. And despite having asked her to dress appropriately this afternoon, Gemma had deliberately put on her worst clothes: an ill-fitting skirt that was so long it was practically dragging on the carpet and a raggedy old jacket that looked like something Che Guevara might have worn. Maxine just hoped the hotel where they were having tea wouldn’t turn them away.

Will occasionally accused her of rampant snobbery, but was it so wrong to want better for, and of, her daughters? Was it so wrong to wish that Suzie’s life didn’t now revolve around ante-natal visits and maternity wear, and that her youngest daughter wasn’t such a surly, ungrateful mess? In the coming months Gemma would be going for university interviews. What on earth would they think of her? What chance did she have of securing a place at a decent university? It was beyond Maxine how her daughters could be so wantonly careless with their lives. When she’d been their age she’d always striven to do her best and to be the best. What’s more, if she’d been given the opportunity to go to university she would have grabbed it with both hands and made her parents proud of her. She hadn’t cared at the time that her father wanted her to go straight into the business and forego her chance of studying, but just occasionally she had, over the years, experienced a tweak of regret that she’d missed out. As a teenager she had once harboured a dream of studying Art History and spending time travelling round Italy visiting galleries and museums. But it was not to be. Which was why she’d been so damned determined her girls wouldn’t lose out.

 

Gemma had always loved coming to the Maywood Grange Hotel. Dad used to bring her and Suzie here when they were little. She didn’t know at the time that he couldn’t really afford it, but he’d always allowed them to have whatever they wanted. The waiters and waitresses would make a big fuss of them, explaining carefully what all the sandwiches contained and pouring out their tea, never minding if anything was ever spilt or knocked over. It was the first time she could remember feeling grown-up; she’d loved being treated as an adult.

Her mother could do with learning that. Gemma took a bite out of her scone and glanced across the table at her mother; she was boasting to Nana Ruby about the saleroom she’d recently bought and the building work she was having done. She doesn’t care about anything but work, Gemma thought bitterly. Suzie and I don’t mean anything to her. All because we haven’t conformed to what she thinks is perfect daughter behaviour. Well, tough luck. If being perfect means turning out like her, then no thank you!

Gemma couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mother happy. Even Steve was regularly getting his head bitten off these days. If Mum wasn’t careful, she’d soon be looking for husband number three. Not that Gemma had any intention of sticking around to see that. She’d be long gone. Once she got to university, that would be it. After deciding to read Philosophy and Politics, she had applied to universities not on the strength of their courses but on distance; she wanted to be as far away from home as possible. Her first choice was Durham followed by Edinburgh and then Exeter, where Suzie had gone. She supposed that she probably would want to come home now and then, but only to see Dad. Oh, and Nana and Suzie. And the baby - her niece, or nephew. She turned this thought over and looked at Suzie, who was sitting next to her and spreading great dollops of jam and cream onto yet another scone - she really was eating for two!

Gemma had written to Marcel, telling him about her sister being pregnant, and how she was going to be an aunt next year — ‘How totally weird is that?’ she’d written. He’d replied almost straight away, inviting her to come to Paris for Christmas. She hadn’t answered his letter yet, but she knew that there was no way her mother would let her go. But Christmas in Paris with Marcel would be just the coolest thing. She pictured the two of them walking through the Tuilerie Gardens eating hot chestnuts and then going to a bar and meeting up with Marcel’s friends. But it would never happen. Mum would see to that.

 

While Mum was off paying the bill and Gemma was in the loo, Suzie watched her grandmother dig around inside her purse for a tip for their waitress. She did it every time, despite Mum telling her that she would see to it.

‘So how are you, Suzie?’ Nana Ruby said, slipping a two-pound coin underneath a saucer.

‘I’m okay,’ she said.

‘Are you eating lots of spinach and broccoli? You must have plenty of iron.’

‘I’m taking supplements.’

‘Good. Now, I didn’t like to say anything in front of your mother, but I’ve been knitting some baby clothes for you. You won’t believe how many you’ll get through and how quickly the baby will grow out of them. You know, I’m so excited about this for you. I can’t believe I’m going to be a great-grandmother. My friends are all so envious.’

Suzie felt a rush of affection towards her grandmother. It was lovely to be with someone who wasn’t telling her how awful her life was going to be. She was sick of her mother’s comments and of the hurtful remarks her supposed friends from school and university were making, none of whom had shown the slightest effort to hide their shock. For a start they couldn’t believe she was pregnant, but mostly they wanted to know why she hadn’t done the sensible thing and gone through with the abortion. They were also all sickeningly desperate to know who the father was. Sinead had pressed her the hardest. ‘Go on, Suzie,’ she’d said on the phone, ‘you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. Not even Richard. Was it someone here?’

‘No,’ she’d told her friend. ‘It wasn’t a student.’ She would do anything to keep the truth from Sinead. And from Richard. She sometimes wondered if he’d put two and two together. If he had, he’d made no attempt to get in touch with her. She hoped he’d remain silent when the baby was born, that his conscience wouldn’t get the better of him or that he’d become curious about the child.

Running her hand over her bump, she said, ‘I wish Mum could be as pleased as you, Nana.’

Nana Ruby snapped her handbag shut. ‘Not to worry; she has a lot on her mind at the moment. She works so hard.’