Mothers & Daughters (11 page)

‘No, we're fine.'

‘Something to eat?' I couldn't seem to stop myself.

‘Mum,' said Jaz.

We positioned ourselves round the room like the Stations of the Cross.

‘So the reason we're here,' said David, compère for the
afternoon, ‘is to talk through how you move forward from this – from this. Whether or not you decide you want to stay together, or part, we want to provide an opportunity for you both to have your say. So you know where you stand.'

Ian's face was set and pinched with acceptance, but Jaz sprang up out of her seat, immediately on the defensive. ‘I thought we were just here to discuss access rights,' she said, looking from one of us to the other. ‘I'm sorry, that's the only reason I'm here. Not for any kind of reconciliation. Mum?'

‘Well,' I said. ‘It can't do any harm. Since you're here.'

Can't it
, said the expression on her face.

‘Please,' said Ian. ‘Please, Jaz, just let me talk to you.'

I wondered what the three of us looked like, poised on the edge of hope, while we waited for her to deliver her verdict.

David said: ‘Don't you want the chance to tell Ian exactly what he's put you through? Don't you think he should hear it?'

Her face worked as she considered. After a few moments, she sat, but grudgingly. ‘He knows,' she said.

‘I don't believe he does,' said David. ‘Not really. Only you can tell him that. Isn't there anything you want to ask him?'

When she didn't reply, he carried on.

‘My plan was to create a safe forum, if you like. To let each of you speak for two minutes, uninterrupted, and say what you feel most needs saying. And have us here for back-up.'

Let each of you speak?
I was thinking. It sounds like bloody speed-dating. She'll never buy that. Any second now, she's going to swear in his face.

‘Neither of you must interrupt the other,' he said. ‘That's essential. The person speaking has the floor, but for two minutes only. That should mean the most important things rise to the top – all the rest of it, you can deal with in your own time. But it's the most productive starting-point, trust me.'

To my utter amazement, she did.

‘So you mean, get him to face up to what he's done.'

‘I have faced—' Ian began, but David waved his hand.

‘Just give it a shot.'

Something passed between them, which Jaz missed because she'd closed her eyes and was pulling her hands through her hair. I knew she was gearing up for an outburst. David had no idea what he was about to unleash.

‘Jaz?'

‘Is it my “go”, then?'

‘It is.'

‘Right,' she began, her hands still busy. ‘Right. OK, OK. I can't
get
why you did it. I mean, I
can't get
it. What in God's name did you think you were doing? When you had everything you wanted, I can't— Was she pretty? Was she worth it? Was she a
good fuck
? Because, you know, everything's ruined now, everything's gone, you've thrown everything away so I fucking hope she was worth it, and I swear to God if I ever
ever
meet that bitch I'll tear her fucking face off, then we'll see how she does stealing other people's husbands, sad fucking
cow
who can't get a proper boyfriend of her own.

‘Did you not think? Did you not stop for one minute and think about me? About Matty? Everything we've been through together, that time you had those chest pains and you thought you were fucking dying, and I was running you up to hospital and you were practically making your fucking will in the car. And when I told you I was pregnant, and you
cried
because you were so blown away by it, and you said how you'd never truly been happy till you met me.

‘And I could understand it – no, I couldn't understand it, but I could maybe get my head round it more if it was definitely just the once, just a complete one-off, but
how do I know?
Oh, I know what you
said
, but that counts for nothing, does it? Fucking damage limitation's all you're concerned with now.
Trouble is, as soon as you start lying to people, they stop trusting you, yeah? I'll never be able to believe another fucking thing you say. Any time you're late home, any time you're – anywhere. How could you not have thought that through? And me and Matty, and everything we had – how could you have blanked it? Was she so fucking fantastic that
the whole of the rest of your life went out of your head?
'

Ian had his fist against his mouth, and at that point he took his knuckles away and made as if to speak, but Jaz carried on.

‘Do you not think
I've
had offers? Look at me. Look at me! Men are always coming on to me. That bloke at the garden centre who delivered the planters, I virtually had to push him out the door, he left his number and everything. The guy at the garage with the earring, he always chats me up. I could have an affair tomorrow if I wanted. But I wouldn't. See, that's the difference. I took my wedding vows seriously.'

‘
I
did,' Ian began. ‘It's—'

David's hand came up, warning. ‘Let her finish.'

For a moment Jaz sat with her head bowed, hands clasped in her lap. Then she said in a flat, soft voice, ‘I can talk for ever, but it won't change anything. You've ruined us. We can never go back. You know that, don't you? It's over, and it's your fault.'

After that there was a horrible silence. I could hear my heart thudding in my ears, so loud it must have been audible to everyone else.

‘Can I speak now?' said Ian.

Jaz shrugged. ‘I've nothing more to say.'

‘Go on,' said David.

Ian shifted, cleared his throat, ran his hand across his brow. ‘I'm not sure I can do this,' he said at last.

‘Oh, get on with it,' said Jaz.

He held his palms upwards, defeated.

‘I've gone over and over it in my mind, all the time you
wouldn't speak to me. Sitting there in the car with you, trying to hold it all back, and now I don't know where to begin. What can I say?'

‘Sorry would be a start.'

‘Of
course
I'm sorry!' The words exploded out of him. ‘How could you think anything else! Sorry? There's not one minute goes past, not one second when I don't wish like mad it hadn't happened. I know I've done wrong! I know how hurt you are! God, if I could turn the clock back, I would do anything, anything for it not to—'

‘That makes two of us, then.'

‘—been trying and trying for weeks to apologise and make things right again but you wouldn't let me.'

‘Because what is there you can say, Ian? How can you possibly make it OK again? That's what I've been telling you.'

‘Then I might as well give up now.'

It was shocking to see this white-faced young man staring at Jaz with his jaw clenched and his breathing fast. A stranger in my house.

‘No,' said Jaz. ‘I want to hear anyway.
Explain to me
what you thought you were doing. I want to hear
every
detail,
every
step. I have to hear it.'

Oh, love, I thought. You don't.

Ian swallowed. ‘It was nothing. It meant nothing. She was nothing. She is nothing.'

‘So
why
?'

‘Because. Because. What it was – she – it's hard to know how to—'

‘Jesus!'

‘Let him speak, Jasmine.' David twisted at his cuff. ‘Two minutes. You had your time, now let him.'

‘Fuck your two minutes,' muttered Jaz, but David ignored her.

‘I will explain,' said Ian. ‘But I can't do it in front of everyone. It has to be in private.'

I was on my feet in an instant, ready to leave them to it. David, though, stayed where he was. ‘As long as you get your say.'

When no one spoke, he stood up, unfastened his watch and handed it to Jaz.

‘Here,' he said. ‘You'll need this. It's got a second hand.'

I couldn't believe the boldness of the gesture, but she took it from him.

We left the room as swiftly as we could, and closed the door behind us.

From the kitchen we could see Laverne hanging out her washing, and further down the garden, the top of Josh's head. I guessed by Matty's shrieks that the remote-controlled jeep was still in play.

David came to stand next to me at the window.

Without looking at him I said: ‘It really is no good pushing Jaz into anything. If she feels cornered, she becomes very unpredictable. Softly softly catchee monkey, it has to be with her. She's been that way pretty much since she was a girl.'

He nodded. ‘And my son's always been – what do they call certain metals? – ductile. Does as he's told. Just as well, given the circumstances of his upbringing.'

A sudden breeze flapped Laverne's sheets. I watched the surface of my pond shiver and tried to picture Ian as a boy.

‘Has he told you why, yet?'

‘Why this other woman?'

‘Yes.'

‘Not really.'

‘Have you asked?'

‘Of course. But it's difficult for him. I'm not sure he can
articulate it properly. I suspect simple opportunity played a part—'

‘For God's sake! Are all men like that?' I snapped.

David moved away from me and sat down at the table. ‘Well, I was never unfaithful to my wife, if that's what you mean.'

Bloody hell. ‘I didn't mean you, I wasn't thinking of you. The way it came out was wrong.'

‘Forget it. Really. I think we're all pretty wound up, aren't we? How about putting the kettle on? I could do with a very strong coffee.'

It was good to be given an everyday task. As I got the cups down, fetched out teaspoons, filled the sugar bowl, I tried to listen for any sounds from the living room. If Jaz and Ian were arguing, their voices would carry. But there was nothing. I flicked the water on to boil.

‘Busy lady.' David pointed at the wall calendar hanging up on the larder door.

‘You don't have to tell me.'

‘Beavers is for, remind me?'

‘Six-to-eights. Cubs eight to ten. Scouts after that.'

‘Are you an Akela, then, or whatever they call it?'

‘No, just general dogsbody. Orange squash-pourer, provider of fairy cakes, that sort of lark. They have so many rules now about adult-to-child ratios. I step in when they need an extra body.'

‘Woggle at the ready?'

‘I don't qualify for a woggle.'

‘Bad luck. How did you get involved? Jaz wasn't a Beaver, was she?'

‘Can you imagine Jaz joining any sort of organised brigade? No, it was the lad next door.' I came over and set the mugs down in front of him, and that's when I saw he was smirking.
‘Well, actually, the joke's on you, David Reid, because these days girls can join Beavers if they want to. It's equal rights.'

‘What – and boys Brownies?'

‘I suppose so. Though I'm not sure there's a vast take-up.'

‘Strange times we live in.' He lifted his coffee to sip, and paused.

‘What?' I prompted him.

‘Occasionally I have trouble negotiating this modern world of ours. I don't know if you ever feel that way, Carol.'

Just lately, all the time, I thought. David, there are mornings I wake up and I hardly dare get out of bed for fear of what the day holds. But I could tell he was trying to keep it light, so I said: ‘Josh next door's always having to explain things to me. He comes out with all this stuff, and I'm sitting there trying to make sense of it. Once he said he was having a Wii for his birthday and I almost crashed the car. Because when words change their meaning, no one tells you, do they? They should have it on public information films, stop you getting yourself into bother. Mind you, at least I never went round calling people a wanker like my mother used to do. She thought it was a pet term, like “little tinker”.'

‘Good God. What did she say when you told her?'

‘We never dared. The shock would have killed her.'

David drank his coffee and we both strained our ears for the sound of shouting. The longer this lull went on, we were thinking, the more hopeful it was.

‘I do worry about what sort of world Matty's growing up into, though,' I said. ‘When I was young – and I know that makes me sound about ninety – people knew where they were, somehow. The lines were drawn and you hadn't to cross them, and everyone benefited from that. Or so it seems to me.'

‘I agree.'

‘There are too many choices these days. I think that's at the
root of it. People think they want choice, but if they have too much it can make life over-complicated. And then they're always looking over their shoulder, thinking should they have done this or that, and comparing other folk with where they are, what they've got. Which makes them dissatisfied and restless. Sometimes it's good just to be told what to do.'

‘Well, it's human instinct to strive for freedom,' said David. ‘But I know what you're saying. Somewhere there's a golden land between PC madness and the bad old days of forelock-tugging and trial by community.'

‘I think we had it. I think that was our youth.'

There followed a silence which, under different circumstances, might have been companionable, but we were both too keyed up. I opened my mouth to speak – not sure what I would have said – but as I did so I saw something through the window that made me turn and look out. I was just in time to see my clothes prop, swayed by a powerful blast of wind, slide away from the washing line and fall with a metallic clatter across the pond. The top section struck a plastic planter which would normally have been stable enough, only I'd propped it up on a couple of bricks so the rim showed above the tops of the reeds. The planter toppled sideways, and lodged against a stone pot, spilling soil into the water.