One Night in Italy (40 page)

All the same, would Emily ever forgive her for it?

‘So what happened? Did he go?’

‘Yeah.’ It was the next day, and she had driven over to the allotment after a sleepless night, hoping that some hard work and fresh air would sort her out. The weather was unexpectedly mild and she was helping George dig over a vegetable plot. ‘The only problem was, she went too.’

‘Your daughter? What, they both just upped and left?’

‘They’d gone by the time I got out of the shower. Didn’t even eat their breakfast.’ She leaned heavily on her spade, remembering the shock of the empty house, her running from room to room calling Emily’s name, the bacon abandoned in the pan. Too late. ‘I feel terrible, George. The first proper boyfriend she’s ever brought home and I bollocked him and sent him packing.’

‘And you were right to, by the sound of it,’ he told her. ‘The guy sounds a total jerk.’

‘He was. The sort of jerk I married, so I should know.’

‘Well, then, I reckon you did her a favour.’ He turned the fork in the soil vigorously a few times. ‘What has she said about it since? Have you made up?’

‘Me and Emily? No. She won’t even answer my phone calls,’ Catherine said unhappily. ‘Honestly, George, it’s so unlike me, shooting off at the mouth like that. I don’t know what came over me.’ Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t strictly true. She’d known exactly what had come over her: a terrible premonition of the future, of Emily going down the same wrong path she’d done, letting a man crush her spirit until she hardly recognized herself.

‘Give her a few days,’ George advised. ‘You probably dented her pride, blowing your top in front of this bloke. Called her allegiances into question.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about: that she’s decided her allegiance is with
him
, not me. You know what it’s like at that age – passions run high. And parents know nothing, obviously.’

‘I’m sure deep down she knows you were only trying to protect her,’ George said, and she smiled at him gratefully. He was so easy to talk to; she was so glad she’d decided to come here today. ‘Just like I’m sure deep down you know you’re meant to be helping me dig this vegetable plot over.’

Catherine laughed, despite her anxieties. ‘Sorry.’ She plunged her spade into the hard ground, standing on it until it sank all the way in. She hoped George was right and that Emily would know in her heart that Catherine had acted out of love. Surely she would?

The sun chose that moment to peer out between two thick cotton wool clouds and Catherine turned her face to the sky, appreciating the feeble warmth it provided. In a few weeks it would be spring, she thought, digging at the soil with a new burst of energy. The days would become longer and lighter, the trees would be in bud, snowdrops and primroses would give way to daffodils and blossom. It had been a long old winter, all in all.

‘You know, you’re a really nice person, Catherine,’ George said, out of the blue.

She glanced up in surprise to see him leaning on his fork, smiling at her, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘Oh! I am? Thank you,’ she said, taken aback.

‘I hate imagining your husband treating you in the way that you’ve talked about,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re not with him any more.’

‘Me too,’ she said, feeling self-conscious.

‘And I was thinking,’ he went on, ‘maybe we could go out some time. Just the two of us.’

Just the two of them . . . Oh my goodness. Was he asking her on a date? Her initial feeling was one of panic. ‘Well . . . I . . . Gosh,’ she said stupidly. Colour rushed into her face. ‘I’m a bit out of practice,’ she said, and then blushed even harder. Oh God. That sounded like she was talking about sex. ‘With going out, I mean. Going out with men.’ As opposed to what? Badgers? ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Well, you don’t have to go out with
men
,’ he pointed out mildly, ‘just me. And only if you want to.’ He unearthed a huge bramble root and chucked it behind him. ‘We could go for a drink tonight if you fancy it.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Yeah, if you’re not busy.’

Of course she wasn’t busy. She was never busy. But going for a drink, with him? Tonight?
I’m not ready to go on a date
, she thought uncertainly. Would she ever be ready for it?

She glanced across at him and he smiled – a proper, warm smile. She smiled back. Well, why not? It was George. He was lovely. And in the next moment, an unfamiliar girlish excitement began spiralling up inside her at the thought of going out with him to a pub somewhere. Talking. Having a drink. Getting to know each other.
It’s just like getting back on a horse
, Penny had said. ‘Okay,’ she blurted out.

‘Really? Great,’ he said. He grinned at her and her tummy did a strange kind of flip that left her breathless. ‘You’re on.’

Driving home later, she felt elated by this new development. Who would have thought it? Her and George, going out for a drink together. She’d half-expected him to elbow her and tell her he was only joking, he hadn’t meant it like
that
, but the last thing he’d said as she’d kicked the mud off her wellies that afternoon was that he’d see her at eight o’clock in the Walkley Arms, a pub near the allotment. So it was game on. An actual
date.
Oh-Em-Gee, as her daughter would say.

Would he try and kiss her, she wondered, feeling hysteria bubble up inside her as she turned off the main road into the village. Would this be the start of an actual relationship? Would he want to go to bed with her? Were they going to fall in
love
?

Oh gosh. It was terrifying, frankly. She needed some advice from Penny or – no, not Penny. She’d only advise Catherine to pounce on him in the pub and stick her tongue in his mouth. The Italian class girls, then, Sophie and Anna. What would they say if they were here now?

She could almost hear their voices ringing through her head.
Yay! Go for it, Catherine!

She indicated left to turn into her road and then almost stalled the engine as she saw the forlorn figure sitting on her front doorstep. After the most atrocious, hurried bit of parking ever, she scrambled from the car. ‘Emily!’ she cried, rushing over. ‘I thought you were back in Liverpool! Are you okay?’

Emily burst into tears as Catherine wrapped her arms around her. ‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘Oh, sweetheart.’ She held her close, Emily’s face cold against hers. ‘Come inside, let me make you a cup of tea. How long have you been sitting there?’

‘About an hour. I forgot my key and Penny was out.’ She wiped her eyes on her sleeve as Catherine let them in. ‘Macca dumped me.’

‘What an idiot,’ Catherine said staunchly, her heart breaking at the sight of that tear-stained face and puffy cheeks.

‘I know you didn’t like him, Mum, but I really d-d-did. I loved him.’

‘Oh, darling, come here.’ Emily had always been one to wear her heart on her sleeve and now her face was twisted with raw pain and misery. Catherine just wanted to wrap her up in her own fierce love and never let anyone hurt her again. She could
kill
Macca, the bloody great oaf. She
would
kill him if she ever saw him again.

‘He said . . . He said I was too
ordinary.
’ She choked on the word, fresh tears spilling down onto Catherine’s jumper.

‘Ordinary? Rubbish! You’re the most lovely, special, beautiful girl on this planet,’ she said. ‘And don’t you dare let anyone tell you otherwise.’ She gave another fierce hug. ‘Ordinary indeed. As if! Now come inside this minute and let me sort you out.’

Emily blew her nose and trudged into the house, letting Catherine fuss over her with some hot chocolate and a packet of Jaffa Cakes. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said with a feeble, pink-eyed smile. A last shuddery sob shook her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry I just ran off like that yesterday. He was so angry I didn’t know what else to do. He said if I didn’t go with him he’d leave me there and then.’

Catherine sat down next to her at the table and stroked her cheek. ‘I’m sorry I put you in that position,’ she said. ‘I probably shouldn’t have bawled him out like that. It just got to me, seeing the way he was treating you. I didn’t like it.’

Emily blew on her hot chocolate. ‘He was really nice to me sometimes,’ she said defensively, eyes lowered.

‘Sometimes isn’t enough,’ Catherine said. ‘People who switch their niceness on and off are not to be trusted. Take it from me.’

There was a small silence as she thought of Mike. They hadn’t spoken since that showdown in the pub and she wondered uneasily if he’d kept his word about the money, or if he’d already changed his mind.

‘We didn’t have that much in common, I suppose,’ Emily admitted after a moment. ‘I mean, he’s really fit, but, you know . . . We never really
talked
, not properly. And he was always getting jealous of other men looking at me.’

‘Sounds like he was insecure. One of those people who put you down to make
themselves
feel better. Like . . .’ she said, then stopped.

‘Like Dad did to you?’ Emily prompted.

Catherine folded her hands in her lap. She didn’t want to slag off Mike to Emily; he was her dad, her hero. ‘Sometimes,’ she said quietly.

Emily leaned her head against Catherine’s shoulder. ‘I actually kind of loved it when you shouted at Macca, you know, Mum.’

There was a lump in Catherine’s throat. ‘Did you?’

‘Yeah. I was like, Go Mum! for sticking up for me.’ She nibbled another Jaffa Cake. ‘I’m glad you were on my side, not his.’

‘I’m always on your side, Em. Always. Don’t ever forget that.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’ They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes and Catherine felt lightheaded with relief that they were together again. Allies.

‘I’m sorry it wasn’t a very good weekend,’ Emily said after a while, ‘but I don’t have any lectures until tomorrow afternoon, so I can stay tonight if that’s okay. Maybe we could go out somewhere together and have tea.’

‘That would be lovely,’ Catherine agreed, but then George’s smiling face appeared in her mind and she remembered that she already had plans. Her date. ‘Ahh,’ she said. ‘Um . . . I kind of said to someone I’d go out this evening. I’m sure I can rearrange it, though.’

Emily moved away from her – just a fraction but Catherine felt it. ‘Who?’ she asked. ‘Penny?’

‘No, not Penny. Just someone I met from the allotment. That’s where I was today.’

‘Oh.’ A new chill entered Emily’s voice. ‘Is it a man?’

‘Yes, but . . .’

‘Does Dad know?’

‘It’s not like that, Em.’

‘Isn’t it?’

Wasn’t it?
Catherine hated the coolness that had appeared between them all of a sudden. ‘It doesn’t matter. I can put him off,’ she said quickly.

‘I feel a bit weird, you going out with another man.’

‘I’m not going
out
with him.’

Emily studied her, a small frown appearing. ‘Isn’t it kind of soon? I mean, Dad was only here at Christmas. I don’t think you should rush into anything, Mum.’

Said the girl who had just thrown her heart at a moron like Macca. ‘I’m not rushing, Em. Anyway, me and your dad had already split up by Christmas, remember. He walked out the day you and Matthew left home.’

But Emily didn’t seem to be listening. ‘Have you kissed him? Have you
slept
with him?’

‘Emily! What sort of question is that?’

‘Does Matthew know? Has he met him?’

‘No! There’s nothing
to
know!’ Her tiny fledgling relationship, fragile as a dandelion clock, had been blown up into something ugly and sinister within seconds. ‘Look, it’s not a big deal. I’ll see him another time, okay? I’d rather go out with you anyway.’

‘Would you?’

Would she?
Catherine tried to block out that fluttery, excited feeling that had whipped up inside her as she came home earlier. Emily . . . George . . . Oh, it was unfair that she had to choose between them. Of course her daughter would win every time – especially when she was vulnerable and clingy like now.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Of course I would. Let me change out of these muddy jeans and we’ll have a lovely girly time together.’

Emily smiled – finally – and it all felt worth it. ‘Thanks, Mum,’ she said.

Text to: George

From: Catherine

Hi George, v v sorry but can we rearrange drink? Emily (daughter) has turned up, dumped by crap boyf, needs me here. Really sorry. Do you mind? C

Text to: Catherine

From: George

No worries. Hope she is OK. G

Text to: George

From: Catherine

Maybe we can do it some other time instead?

‘Mum? I said, are you going to have a pudding?’

‘Oh. Er . . . No. I’m full, thanks.’ Catherine checked her phone again as Emily deliberated over the menu. Still no reply.

‘Mmm, melting chocolate fondant, that sounds amazing. Sure you’re not tempted?’

‘No. But you have one. It sounds lovely.’

There was still no reply from George by the time they got home later. Had he gone off the idea already?

Text to: George

From: Catherine

Sorry again re tonight. And thanks 4 the chat earlier anyway. Really helped. See you at Italian 2moro x

Catherine and Emily sat down to watch a rom-com together with a bottle of wine, but Catherine couldn’t concentrate. Maybe his phone was out of battery. Maybe he was out of range. But maybe the silence was because he was cross with her for cancelling the date. She had explained though, hadn’t she? It wasn’t anything personal!

Her phone buzzed with another text and she almost spilled her wine in her haste to read it. But it was from Anna.

Text to: Catherine