Never Too Late (14 page)

face was flushed from rushing around, beads of moisture

on her upper lip and tendrils of brown hair hanging

damply around her face.

Her expression was that tense, nervous one Olivia hadn’t

seen for many years. She was not looking her best, but then

nobody would beside the cool and poised Vida.

At the sight of her father and his fiancee embracing,

Evie went white. Olivia’s heart went out to her friend.

Poor Evie was taking it very badly. She looked confused

and lonely. Quickly dumping her glass on the kitchen

table, Olivia relieved Evie of her burden of dishes before

kissing her hello.

‘Your dress is so pretty,’ she said loudly. ‘I love black

velvet.’

‘Do you think it’s nice?’ asked Evie gratefully, turning

big sad eyes to her friend. ‘It was the only thing I brought

with me …’ She stopped, suddenly remembering where

she was. ‘You’ve met everyone,’ she said in a strained voice.

‘And you’ve heard the news?’

‘Yes,’ said Stephen. ‘Wonderful, isn’t it? When’s the

happy day? It’s not going to be a shotgun wedding, eh?’ He

poked Andrew in the ribs and guffawed at his own joke.

Olivia froze with horror at his comment, as did Rosie

and Evie. But Vida, who was obviously made of sterner

stuff, merely smiled graciously, still holding tightly to

Andrew’s arm.

‘February,’ she said. ‘We’re having a small reception at

Kilkea Castle. We hope you and Olivia will be able to

come, with your darling Sasha, of course, I’ve heard so

much about her. She sounds a little doll. Maybe she’d he a

flower girl? And we’d love to have you as a bridesmaid,

Rosie,’ she added-Vida’s assured expression faltered briefly

as she turned to Evie, who was looking bootfaced. ‘I did

hope you’d be one too …’ she began.

But before Vida could finish the sentence, Evie snapped

at her: ‘I doubt if I’ll be able to make the wedding. Not

that it’ll matter to you, Dad, since you didn’t consider me

important enough to discuss it with in the first place!’

She turned on her heel and ran from the room, rushing

upstairs as hot, angry tears flooded down her face.

‘I’ll go after her,’ Olivia said, and hurried past a pale

faced Andrew Eraser.

Upstairs, Evie sat on her single bed and wept.

‘Can I come in?’ asked Olivia, tapping gently at the

door.

‘Yes,’ sobbed Evie.

‘You poor thing,’ Olivia said, hugging her. ‘I know your

dad should have told you ages ago, but he was probably

nervous of saying he was going out with Vida …’

That’s what I can’t understand!’ Evie cried. ‘He did it all

without telling me. I feel so left out … how could he? It’s like he was never really close to me. All those years I

thought we were so close to each other and I was wrong.

She changes everything.’

Evie wiped away tears with her hands. “I was going to

tidy out his airing cupboard and sort out the kitchen

and … I can’t now.’ She started crying harder than ever.

They didn’t talk for a while. Olivia just sat holding one

of Evie’s hands until her sobs subsided. Finally, she

scrubbed her face dry with a tissue.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have run off like that, it’s

just…’ She grimaced. ‘I really hate that woman! Did you ever meet someone and loathe them on sight? That’s what I feel for her. She’s so smug and perfect. What’ll she be like

when she’s part of our family?’

‘She’s hardly a wicked stepmother,’ Olivia pointed out.

‘I know,’ Evie said wretchedly. ‘Part of me knows I’m

being silly about this - I’m certainly old enough to know

better. But it’s so upsetting, it’s rocked me utterly. I can’t

explain … I loved my mother so much, you see,’ she

added. ‘How could he want anyone else?’

‘But you were widowed and you wanted someone else,’

Rosie interrupted, appearing at the door. She sat down on

the bed beside her mother and slung one slender arm

around Evie’s shoulders.

‘Mum, you loved Dad but you’ve moved on, even if it is

on to Simon,’ she added in a disparaging voice.

Evie caught Olivia’s eye and the two friends looked at

each other for a second.

‘That’s different,’ Olivia said gently.

‘Why?’ demanded Rosie.

Oh, God, thought Olivia, what have I said? ‘Er …

because you never knew your dad, that’s why. It’s different

when you’ve lost someone you remember.’

‘Mmm.’ Rosie didn’t look convinced.

‘Would you mind one of your parents getting remarried

if one of them died?’ she asked Olivia bluntly.

Olivia, who wouldn’t have been surprised or have cared

less if either parent married a Martian tomorrow, pretended

to think about it. ‘of course I would,’ she lied. ‘It’s

hard to explain. Anyway,’ she got off the bed abruptly, ‘we

should go back down, Evie. There’s nothing to be gained

by sitting up here. The rest of the guests will wonder

what’s going on.’ She meant that Stephen would wonder

what was going on.

‘They’re OK,’ Rosie said. ‘They’re all in raptures about

their new hunky male watercolour teacher, talking their

dentures off with excitement. I just landed in a couple of

bottles of wine and left them to it.’

‘What about Stephen?’ asked Olivia anxiously. ‘Is he all

right?’ He hated being left on his own at this sort of party.

It was a different kettle of fish when they were at his

friends’ parties. The talk then would be all about business

and Olivia often felt totally out of things, but she never

minded really. Stephen had to network to get on. Olivia

had to expect a certain amount of the conversations to go

over her head, he would always say.

“I prefer beauty to brains any day.’ he’d murmur in the

car on the way home, when Olivia was subdued and happy

to be leaving.

‘I’d better go down to Stephen,’ she said now, envisioning

him stuck in conversation with one of the inebriated

painting ladies. He’d hate that.

She gave Evie’s arm a squeeze. ‘Stick on a bit of

make-up and you’ll be fine.’

‘Don’t worry, Mum, nobody downstairs will notice

you’ve been crying, they’re all too sozzled,’ Rosie added.

‘You’d never think those little old ladies could put away

that much booze.’

Evie nodded. ‘I’ll be down in a few minutes,’ she said,

through a bunged-up nose.

Rosie and Olivia left together, Olivia hurrying down the

stairs, distracted by the thought of Stephen being bored.

She’d suggest going home, that was it. He hadn’t been too

keen to go to the party in the first place and offering to go

home early would placate him. They’d only been there

three-quarters of an hour, but Evie would understand.

She rushed into the kitchen but it was empty. Then she

heard Stephen’s distinctive laugh coming from the dining

room. Peeping round the door, she found him sitting with Vida, a bottle of red wine on the table between them along with a tray of sausage rolls. Vida’s elegant head was thrown

back as she too laughed uproariously.

‘Oh, Stephen, that’s a marvellous story!’ she said.

He had an audience, Olivia thought with relief.

‘Hello, darling,’ she said, going round to sit beside him. ‘I

wasn’t sure if you wanted to go home yet? I know you’re

tired after your flight. Stephen only flew home from

Frankfurt this afternoon,’ she told Vida.

‘Nonsense,’ he said briskly. ‘It’d be crazy to go home

when we’re having such fun. Vida’s been telling me about

the time she lived in Germany. There’s this gorgeous hotel

in Kronberg that sounds fabulous and she says I’ve got to

go there next time.’

‘It’s only ten or eleven miles outside Frankfurt and it’s so

beautiful if you get a chance to visit it,’ Vida added. ‘The

gardens are exquisite.’

Olivia felt her own twinge of jealousy. Here was this

gorgeous and well-travelled woman keeping her husband

amused with stories of her jet-set existence when Olivia’s

own travelling experience was limited to that of a boring

working mother. And her conversation never kept Stephen

amused for longer than it took to remove his clothes and

get into bed with her.

‘Do you ever travel with Stephen on his business trips?’

Vida asked pleasantly.

Stephen put his arm around his wife and answered for

her.

‘Olivia’s a bit of a home body,’ he said, squeezing her

waist. ‘She prefers to stay at home looking after Sasha.

You’ll have to meet Sasha, she’s beautiful,’ he added

proudly. ‘We’d love her to be a flower girl.’

Olivia smiled weakly, instantly thinking that Evie would

see this as a betrayal and wondering desperately how she’d

explain to her friend that it had been Stephen’s idea.

‘I hope you’ll feel Sasha can be a flower girl,’ Vida said,

turning to Olivia. “I know that Evie’s your friend and I

don’t want to create trouble between you. I do so want her

to accept me but I can understand how difficult it’ll be.’

‘Oh, Evie will come round,’ Stephen said dismissively.

‘She’s being immature. She’s had Andrew wrapped around

her little finger for too long and she needs to grow up.’

Olivia shot him a furious glance. How could he say such

a thing about her best friend? It was so disloyal. Vida gave

Stephen a long slow look, as if she was thinking the same

thing. She missed nothing, Olivia reflected.

Vida filled a fresh glass of wine for Olivia, who’d left her

original one in the kitchen. Tell me about your job,’ she

said warmly. ‘Andrew says you’re a superb cook and that

you’re wasted teaching youngsters who have no interest in

food.’

Laughing at the idea of being wasted doing anything, Olivia opened her mouth to speak but Stephen got there before her again.

‘She is a wonderful cook,’ he said warmly.

Olivia glowed with pleasure.

Although I hate her teaching those delinquent children.

What’s the point when they all come from homes where

they just eat chips and burgers?’ he continued dismissively.

‘Olivia’s always had this fetish about working but she

doesn’t need to. It was different when we first got married

because we didn’t have Sasha. But now,’ he shrugged, ‘we

can manage perfectly well. She just likes being a career

girl. Wants “to make her contribution” as she puts it.’ He

made it sound as if Olivia was earning a paltry ten pounds

a week which wouldn’t have kept them in loo roll.

She wanted to hit him. How dare he discuss her like this

with a total stranger? How dare he insult her students?

There might be a few juvenile delinquents in her classes

but every school was like that. Burgers and chips indeed.

Stephen was such a snob. And how dare he relegate her

work to some whim of a pampered woman who could give

up work if she wanted to but amused herself by pretending

it was necessary?

Vida laughed infectiously, as if Stephen was teasing

Olivia and she had got the joke, an old and affectionate

joke between a perfectly-in-tune married couple. It’s

hardly unusual in this day and age for a woman to want a

career, is it?’ she said softly.

‘Exactly,’ Olivia said defiantly. She wrenched her chair

away from the table until she was out of Stephen’s reach,

facing him and Vida.

‘It’s a question of childcare,’ Stephen protested in a

more conciliatory tone, as if he sensed they were ganging

up on him.

‘Really?’ Vida didn’t look at either of them but toyed

with the bangle on her wrist. ‘I have worked all my life and

I feel it’s been marvellous for both myself and my son,

Max. I firmly believe he benefited from my working

because I wanted a job. I would have made a dreadful

full-time mother if I’d resented being at home all the time

when I wanted to work. A woman needs to be able to

choose a career if she wants one and not be made to feel

guilty. Women have enough to fee! guilty about.’

‘Oh,’ said Stephen, obviously astonished that a woman

like Vida had ever done anything more taxing than lift a

bejewelled hand to attract the attention of a passing waiter.

‘Just because women can bear children doesn’t mean

they’re unable to harbour the same sort of career ambitions

as a man,’ she said, this time giving him the benefit of

her crystal-sharp grey gaze. ‘Surely there are women

executives in your company who have children?’

‘Well, yes. That’s different.’

‘How is it different?’ asked Olivia, unable to take his

attitude any more.

‘It’s what you’re used to,’ Stephen argued, still talking to

Vida. “I want my daughter to have what I had.’

His daughter! thought Olivia-What about our daughter?

‘My mother never worked outside the home,’ he

explained pompously.

‘Goodness!’ laughed Vida throatily. ‘If we all confined

ourselves to doing what our parents did, we’d be in trouble,

wouldn’t we? My mother was a washerwoman in Hell’s

Kitchen, married to the most notorious drunkard in New

York who beat her every day of their married life when he