Me and Mr Jones (29 page)

He was smiling, one step ahead. ‘Ah, but I’m not asking for a room here. I was thinking – if we got the holiday chalet finished, they could stay there. Self-contained, isn’t it? And I’ll be on hand to help them. I can do everything for her.’ Nobody spoke. ‘I
want
to do everything for her.’

Good Lord, there was such stubbornness running right through the boy. Determined, that’s what Charlie was. Well, at first anyway. He tended to peter out halfway through these grand plans of his, leaving a mess for somebody else to clear up. Not this time. though, son. She was going to have to put her foot down. ‘I don’t think—’ she began.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘
Please
, Mum. Just until she’s back on her feet. You won’t even know she’s there. I really like her. I just want to help her. I’d put them up at my place, but there’s not enough room. Please?’

Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Sounds like she’s had a rough time,’ he said gruffly. ‘What do you think, Lilian?’

‘They’ve been staying with Alicia until now – the girls, I mean,’ Charlie rattled on, sensing he might have an ally at last. ‘Good as gold, they are. No trouble.’

Lilian could feel the walls closing in on her. The argument was starting to wear her down. And while on another day she might have been able to dig her heels in fully and resist Charlie’s barrage of pleas, today was not that day. Today she was tired and anxious and vulnerable. Today she just wanted to eat her dinner in peace and not be pressurized any more. ‘Oh, all right,’ she said ungraciously in the end. ‘I suppose so.’

Charlie leapt up and kissed her. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Dad. Listen . . . David, I don’t suppose you’d be able to give me a hand getting the place finished tonight? With a bit of luck she’ll be out of hospital tomorrow and I want it to be really nice for her.’

David rolled his eyes comically. ‘Go on, then,’ he said. ‘Who am I to stand in the way of love’s young dream? You don’t mind, do you, Em?’

Mind? She looked like she might very well spit at the question. ‘Of course not,’ she muttered, not meeting his gaze. Her mouth twitched as if she was trying to control her feelings and then she drank the last of her wine in a single gulp. ‘Why ever would I mind?’

After dinner Charlie and David vanished outside with paint pots, hammers, drills, the mop bucket and Eddie’s toolbox. Emma went out to help for a while, but came sulkily back, claiming that they’d told her they didn’t need her.

‘Man’s work, eh?’ Eddie said jovially, putting on the television in time for
Casualty
.

Lilian was sure she heard a growl under Emma’s breath as she helped herself to another drink and sat at the far end of the sofa, feet tucked under her like a cat, but she made no comment.

The programme began and Lilian tried to concentrate. She and Eddie never missed an episode, but tonight she was finding it difficult to follow the plot. Her thoughts kept skewing back to the conversation over dinner, and the way Charlie had steamrollered blithely over her in order to get what he wanted. Typical. He didn’t even seem to have noticed that his father wasn’t himself. Didn’t care how tired or overworked they were – that clearly didn’t matter. And now this Izzy woman had turned his head, and the whole family was expected to fall in with his wishes!

‘Honestly,’ she muttered crossly. Emma shot her a look before pouring herself another large glass of wine, but Eddie was glued to the television and oblivious. Lilian wished Emma would go somewhere else so that she could have a good moan to her husband about Charlie’s thoughtlessness. She just wanted someone to tell her, ‘It’ll be all right’, and for her to believe it. Was that too much to ask?

The programme finished – goodness, she’d barely noticed what was happening tonight – and Eddie flicked off the television with the remote. Then he leaned back on the sofa and put his hands behind his head. ‘Be nice to have a couple of kiddies about the place,’ he said, to nobody in particular.

Lilian thought he was referring to the guests they had booked in for Monday, until she realized he meant Izzy’s girls. ‘Hmmm,’ she muttered darkly.

‘And that Izzy our Charlie’s so keen on, she seemed a friendly sort of lass, didn’t she?’ he commented.

Lilian gritted her teeth. ‘Goodness knows how she’s managed to wheedle Charlie into
this
,’ she huffed, getting out her knitting. ‘Sounds like trouble to me.’

Emma – who appeared to have polished off most of the bottle of wine – made a scoffing sort of noise. ‘Nobody’s good enough for Charlie, are they?’ she said cattily.

Lilian narrowed her eyes. ‘And what do you mean by that?’ she asked. Try it on with me, love, and you’ll get it right back, she thought. Just you dare!

‘I
mean
,’ Emma slurred, ‘nobody’s good enough for your precious sons, are they? Kate bloody Middleton wouldn’t have been good enough!’

Eddie, to her annoyance, merely raised an eyebrow, but Lilian gripped her knitting needles so hard her knuckles blanched. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she said in her iciest tones.

‘You’ve never been nice to me,’ Emma stated, ‘you treat Alicia like some kind of skivvy, and now you’re writing off Izzy before you’ve even bothered getting to know her.’ She leaned forward, pointing a finger, like a spiteful, drunk harpy. ‘What’s your problem, eh? Why can’t you give us a break?’

The nerve of the girl, it almost took Lilian’s breath away. ‘How
dare
you!’ she managed to say. ‘I’ve never heard so much rubbish in my life.’

‘Now then,’ Eddie said mildly. ‘Let’s not argue. More wine, anyone?’

‘All I ever wanted,’ Emma went on, ‘was to love your son. All I have tried to do is make him happy, to be his best friend, his wife. Is that such a terrible crime?’

Lilian opened her mouth to answer, but didn’t get a chance. Emma ploughed straight on. ‘How do you think it makes me feel, coming here, when you’re always so unfriendly to me, so rude? Every single bloody time there’s some dig, some nasty little remark. Thank God you’ve stopped asking when we’re going to have a baby. Because – hello! Newsflash! – we’ve been trying and trying for a baby for nearly a year. And guess what? We’re finding it really hard, actually. If you’re interested. If you care!’

Lilian felt winded. ‘I—’ she began, but Emma was still in full flow.

‘I would love to be a mother. I am desperate to be a mother. I am trying my bloody hardest to get pregnant so that I can be a mother. And I’ve also been trying to help David get his life back together again. Okay? So don’t you dare look down your nose at me any more. Because all I’ve done is love your son the best I can.’ She was breathing hard. ‘Your boys might think you are the most perfect mum ever, but I’ll tell you something, you’re a bloody rotten mother-in-law. The worst!’

‘Now come on, that’s a bit harsh,’ Eddie said, just as David came striding into the room.

‘What the hell’s going on?’ he asked, looking from Emma to Lilian. ‘What’s all the shouting about?’

‘Your
wife
is just telling me what a dreadful mother-in-law I am,’ Lilian said sharply, trying not to show the wound Emma had caused. Her hands shook so violently that the knitting needles clicked against each other like chattering teeth; she was reeling from Emma’s rant. Each word had been spat out with sheer hatred.

‘
What?
’ David looked incredulous. He turned to Emma. ‘What have you said? What’s happened?’

Emma’s face crumpled and she got up, swaying. ‘That’s right, take her side as always,’ she shouted. ‘I knew you would!’

‘I’m not taking anyone’s side,’ he replied. ‘Not until I know what’s been said.’

‘Forget it,’ Emma spat. ‘Just forget it!’ And she pushed past him and out of the room, the door banging behind her.

Still stunned, Lilian clutched at her necklace, gripping it so hard that the string broke and a hundred small blue beads bounced down to the carpet, rolling everywhere. ‘Oh no,’ she cried, the words becoming a sob. She had never felt so attacked, so demonized. And in her own home too!

‘Oh, Mum,’ David said, coming over and putting an arm around her. ‘I’m sorry for her behaviour. She’s . . . I’m sure she didn’t mean it.’

She didn’t reply. What was the point? Because Emma
had
meant it, every stinging word of vitriol, that much was obvious. The way the diatribe had poured out of her with such ferocity, she had clearly been storing those words up, unsaid, for a long time.

Lilian rubbed her eyes. A rotten mother-in-law, Emma had called her. The worst. She wasn’t that bad, was she?
Was
she?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emma flung herself onto the bed and wept angry tears into the pillow, images of burning bridges flaming in her mind. She’d really gone and done it now; blown the situation sky-high with a heady combination of wine and pent-up frustration.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she cried and cried; emotions breaking over her like waves on a sea wall.
Stupid, stupid woman
, she raged. David would never forgive her for this. Never in a million years!

Eventually, when she was all cried out, she lay numbly on the lumpy eiderdown, gazing up at the shadowy ceiling. An owl hooted softly outside and the wind moaned around the chimneys. In the next room she could hear the couple who were staying – the burble of their television, the low murmur of their voices, occasional muffled laughter – and the sounds seemed to mock her. It seemed an age since she and David had done anything as ordinary and domestic as watch television in quiet togetherness. He hadn’t even bothered to come and see if she was all right. No doubt he was too busy comforting his mum, mopping up those crocodile tears. She’d walked right into Lilian’s hands this time.

Oh, Emma
, she groaned to herself, pulling on her night things and washing her face in the tiny en suite.
You and your big mouth.
All those angry words that had boiled up out of her.

But really . . . who could blame her for cracking? Friends of hers had long said how amazed they were that she’d lasted this long without retaliating to Lilian’s jibes. Sally had actually called her a saint at their wedding, when Lilian had a face on her more appropriate to attending her son’s funeral than marriage to his beloved. Frankly, she
had
been a saint the whole time they’d been together, ignoring the snide remarks, slapping on that brave face for the umpteenth time when asked yet again when she was going to give David a baby.

Still . . . She found herself squirming uneasily as her own words came back to mock her. She might have talked the talk about loving David as best she could just now, but really . . . had she? Did she? When she thought of her recent behaviour with Greg and Nicholas, she couldn’t justify the statement with any sincerity.

She spat out her toothpaste, rinsed the brush and met her gaze in the bathroom mirror. There were secrets locked away in her eyes; she looked shifty, not to be trusted.

Maybe she wasn’t such a saint after all.

The next morning Emma woke early to find David’s sleeping body next to her, his back decidedly turned against hers, even in sleep. She shut her eyes again, feeling hungover and tired, before deciding that she simply couldn’t face the repercussions today. Instead she’d take the coward’s way out, skulk downstairs without another word, jump in the car and just go.

Cooling-off time, that was what they needed. Space to think about what, exactly, they both wanted – and whether or not it was each other any more.

Bloody hell. How had things become so precarious that she was now sliding gingerly out of bed, washing and dressing in silence and scooping up all her belongings? It was hardly the sign of a happy marriage. She imagined the couple next door spooned dreamily against one another’s warm, slumbering bodies and tears sprang to her eyes.

She cast a last glance over her sleeping husband, slightly sickened at what she was about to do.
Lame, Em
.
Not very wifely.

Well, duh, she thought defensively. He hadn’t exactly been very husbandly lately, had he? Moving out, refusing to make plans for the future with her . . . The pair of them might as well be strangers.

She pulled the door gently to and crept downstairs. The house was still – it was only just past six o’clock. She knew that Lilian didn’t open the breakfast room for guests until seven-thirty on a Sunday, so she had plenty of time to make her escape. In fact, she’d have time for the quickest of coffees, she decided, setting her bag quietly down in the hall. A shot of caffeine might go some way towards stripping away one layer of her hangover, too.

But as she padded into the kitchen she froze in horror at the unwelcome sight of Lilian already at the table with a bowl of porridge. Damn. Emma’s armour and pride crumbled instantly, leaving her vulnerable, caught off-guard in enemy territory. Worse, she’d been spotted, so she couldn’t just turn and flee, however desperately she wanted to.

Lilian’s face was impassive. ‘Good morning,’ she said.

Emma hovered in the doorway. No, she simply could not go in and make coffee now. She couldn’t take another step towards her nemesis; she felt physically repelled, as if they were clashing magnetic forces. ‘Morning,’ she muttered. ‘I’m just heading off actually, so—’