Pieces of My Heart (14 page)

‘Charlie and Nadia have gone for a drink and Ali went off on her bike. She should be back soon. She was a total pain in the supermarket. Even Charlie nearly lost it with her.’

‘Why? What happened?’

Sarah filled me in …

Charlie parked in the disabled drivers’ section and got out of the car with a fake limp. Ali said she didn’t think it was fair to take up a handicapped space, but Charlie pointed out that there were twelve handicapped spaces and only two cars in them. ‘How many cripples can there be, wanting to do their shopping at twelve o’clock on a Saturday? Now, let’s divide this list up so we can get out of here as quickly as possible.’

They each went their separate ways and agreed to meet at the checkout in twenty minutes.

Sarah got the items Charlie had given her from my list and a few of her favourite things – hot chocolate drinks, smoothies, granola bars and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. She then went to meet Charlie.

He was looking around impatiently. ‘I hate supermarkets. They’re full of grumpy old people and screaming kids. Have you seen Ali?’ he asked.

‘No. You wait here, I’ll go and find her.’

Sarah found Ali sitting on the floor surrounded by packets of food. She was reading the labels on them and taking notes on a little pad. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked her sister.

Ali looked annoyed at being found. ‘I’m just checking to see what additives are in all these foods. Some of them are really bad for you.’

‘Why are you writing it in a notebook? Are you doing a project for school?’

‘No, I’m just making sure I don’t eat any crap.’

Sarah looked into her sister’s basket – low-fat cheese, low-fat yogurts, rice cakes, two chicken breasts and a box of Special K. ‘Is that what you got? It’s all gross.’

‘No, it’s healthy.’

‘Rice cakes? Come on, they’re like cardboard,’ Sarah said.

‘I like them.’

‘Since when?’

‘Since I decided to give up bad carbs.’

‘Well, you look like shit – like you have the flu. Maybe you should try eating some of the “bad” carbs.’

‘Go away. I need to concentrate.’

‘Charlie’s doing his nut. He wants to go.’

‘I need more time.’

Charlie came around the corner, furious. ‘What the hell are you two doing? Why are you sitting around writing in a book?’

‘Ali wants to write down the content of everything in the shop.’

‘I just want to read the labels,’ she fumed.

‘Read the labels?’ Charlie was incredulous. ‘In my day we ate pigs’ trotters. Now come on, before I get really annoyed.’

Ali glared at them both and stormed to the checkout.

‘She’s always narky these days, Mum. I’m sick of her snapping at me,’ Sarah said. ‘And what’s with all the sudden interest in cooking and food content? Why does she always have to be so intense about everything? When we got back she spent two hours in the kitchen making chocolate chip muffins and meringues.’

I rubbed my forehead. I had a splitting headache from the kids’ party. All I wanted to do was put my feet up and drink a glass of wine in peace. But every time I came through the front door there was always something to be done or fixed or dealt with. It was relentless. ‘Ali’s a perfectionist. She can’t do things in half-measures. It’s just her personality.’

‘I wish she’d chill the hell out. She’s so serious about everything, it’s a pain.’

‘I know, but be patient with her. It’s been a difficult few months.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not going to be her punch-bag any more. The next time she snaps at me I’m going to tell her what a pain in the arse she’s become.’

I let my head sink back into the cushion and stared at the ceiling. When had we all become so stressed out? We always seemed to be fighting or snapping at each other now. I was sick of it. I wanted some peace. I closed my eyes and pictured waves gently lapping on a sandy beach. ‘Maybe we all need a change of scenery. Why don’t we go away for a week?’

‘Yes! Let’s go somewhere really hot.’

‘Hot and sunny it is. I think it would do Ali the world of good and I wouldn’t mind getting Charlie out of Nadia’s clutches for a bit. It might get him to see sense.’

‘He’s happy – what’s the big deal?’

‘She’s obviously after his money and I don’t want to see him get hurt again.’

‘OK, fair enough. Why don’t we go just after Christmas? It’s so boring here between Christmas and New Year. Can we go to Morocco? I’ll get a brilliant tan. Everyone will be so jealous.’

‘That would be the best time to go, but then Dad might not be able to come. It’s a busy time in the pub.’

‘We can’t go without Dad. It wouldn’t be a family holiday. And we can’t wait and go after New Year because Ali and me will be back in school. Just tell him to leave the pub for once – it won’t fall apart if he’s not there for a few days.’

‘I’ll talk to him. In the meantime why don’t I go and check what deals are available?’ I said, and went upstairs to hide out in my bedroom for some peace and quiet.

But as soon as I had sat down on my bed, Sarah barged in. ‘Mum, you forgot your laptop,’ she said, sitting beside me. ‘Come on, chop chop, let’s see what’s on offer.’

15

Nadia got the job at the pole-dancing club and Charlie kept saying how proud he was of her. You’d think she’d won a bloody gold medal at the Olympics, climbed Mount Everest and found a cure for cancer, the way he was going on. I know I was being childish, but he was praising her more than he ever praised me, and it got up my nose. Not only was I housing and feeding his latest girlfriend, but I now had to listen to how incredible she was.

Charlie insisted on following me around the house, going on and on about her. I’d just come in from work and tripped over a box of Nadia’s belongings that had been thrown down haphazardly in the hall. I was feeling claustrophobic anyway and I was also annoyed that Nadia had never thanked me for allowing her to live in my house with my family. She seemed to take it completely for granted.

Eventually I snapped: ‘What is so great about flinging yourself around on a pole? It’s not exactly rocket science.’

‘It requires extreme control and suppleness. She’s like a gymnast.’

‘It’s called stripping, Charlie.’

‘I don’t know why you feel the need to put down Nadia’s chosen career. She doesn’t belittle yours.’

‘There’s nothing to belittle. I run my own company. I don’t take my clothes off. And I certainly hope your girlfriend isn’t saying negative things about me, considering the fact that I’m housing her and funding her insatiable appetite.’

‘I never said she didn’t say anything bad about you.’

‘What exactly do you mean by that?’

‘She thinks you’re quite rude about her clothes.’

‘Because I asked her to put a dressing-gown on at breakfast, instead of having to eat with her boobs in my family’s face?’

‘Among other things, yes.’

‘It’s not healthy for my children and husband to have that woman prancing about in skimpy underwear all day long.’

‘They don’t seem to mind.’

‘I mind! It puts me off my food.’

‘She’s got a beautiful body – why should she cover it up? We’re all too repressed.’

‘Is that what she says?’

‘Yes – and you know what? She’s right. We’re far too uptight in this country. Nadia says that Irish people have no sex appeal. We’re too self-conscious. We’re always hiding our bodies instead of celebrating them. Look at Ali, always huddled up in big baggy sweatshirts. It’s ridiculous.’

‘Please tell me you’re not going to start parading around in your underpants.’

‘I’m too old, but you should get out of those thick polo necks.’

‘It’s December. It’s zero degrees outside. What should I be wearing? A bikini?’

‘If you’re going to be childish about it …’

‘Why eferybody is shouting? I am sleeping,’ Nadia complained, coming out of the bedroom in a tiny T-shirt.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Nadia, it’s half past six in the evening and I thought you might be awake,’ I snarled.

‘She’s tired from last night’s work,’ Charlie growled.

‘Yes, I fery tired from dancing. It fery hard work.’

‘I’m sure it is. Maybe you should consider some other form of employment that doesn’t require gymnastics or taking your clothes off.’

‘I like job. I fery good at it. I making good money last night.’

‘Great – so you’ll be able to find your own place, then.’

‘Now, now. There’s no need to hustle the poor girl out the door.’

‘I see few apartments yesterday, but they horrible. I waiting for nice one.’

‘Well, don’t be too fussy, will you?’

Ali came into the lounge.

‘Sorry, Ali, did we disturb your study?’ I asked.

‘No, it’s OK, I was just going to get some tea. Congratulations on your new job, Nadia. Are all the girls as toned as you? It must keep them really fit.’

‘Most girls are skinny but one girl not so skinny. She haff problems pulling herself up on pole.’

‘You must burn loads of calories – it looks really physical.’

‘Yes, it is. It like running marathon efery night.’

‘But a lot more fun, I’m sure.’

‘Ali, will you come help me get the dinner ready?’ I ushered her towards the door. I didn’t want her getting any ideas about taking up pole dancing as a hobby.

‘Why don’t I bake a cake to celebrate Nadia’s job?’ Ali offered.

‘That would be lovely, pet,’ Charlie said.

‘I luff chocolate cake,’ Nadia said. ‘You fery nice girl, Aleeson, just like you granddaddy.’

I went into the kitchen with Ali. ‘Does having Nadia here bother you, Ali?’

‘No, she’s OK and she seems to make Charlie happy, so it’s fine with me.’

‘If it ever does get too much, let me know and I’ll have them both move out. You and Sarah are my priority. OK?’

But Ali wasn’t listening. She was poring over my cookbooks, staring at the pictures of the chocolate cakes.

‘It’s really nice of you to offer to bake a cake.’ I went over to stand beside her.

‘I love cooking.’

‘I’m delighted you’ve got a new hobby.’

She moved away from me and started opening and closing cupboards to get the ingredients she needed.

I stared at her. She was washed out and frail. Her sweatshirt seemed far too big for her and she had on the baggy black tracksuit bottoms she had taken to wearing every day after school. Despite the big lunches I was making for her, she was thin.

‘Ali, is everything OK in school? Is David still going out with Tracy?’

She tensed. ‘Yes, he is. Look, Mum, can you please forget about David? He’s in the past now so stop bringing him up.’

‘Sorry. You just don’t seem yourself, that’s all.’

‘I’m fine – everything’s fine. Please stop asking me how I am. It’s driving me mad.’

‘All right, but just promise me that if you’re worried about anything you’ll come and talk to me? OK?’

‘Fine. Now, can you just let me get on with making my cake?’

I wanted to say more, but I knew I needed to leave her alone. If I pushed her too hard, she’d totally clam up on me. I bit back all the questions I wanted to ask her – why do you seem so unhappy? Why are you so tense all the time? Why don’t you smile any more? Why are you so tired and listless? Why don’t you see how wonderful you are? How beautiful? Clever? Kind? Lovely?

The problem with teenagers is that you lose them. Gone were the days of sitting my little girls on my knee to hug and kiss away their pain. Then, if they fell down, I’d given them a cuddle, a princess plaster and a sweet and all was well with the world. But now when they fell down, they didn’t want my help. They didn’t even want me to know about it. Everything was secretive – whispered phone calls to friends, hidden diaries, monosyllabic answers, locked bedroom doors …

Gone were the days when the girls bounded in from school full of stories of fighting in the playground, bold girls getting into trouble, the teacher giving them a gold star for work well done, new songs to sing for me, poems to recite for me, drawings to give to me … With teenagers you got shrugged shoulders, sullen faces and raging hormones.

I wanted the girls to be well prepared for life because you never know what’s around the corner. I had been shocked when my mother died. It had been so sudden: one day she had a headache, the next she was dead of a brain tumour. I felt lost for years afterwards. I wanted to stay close to my girls: I knew what it was like to have no mother – lonely and frightening. They might think they didn’t need me any more, but I knew they did. When my mother died a huge gap opened up in my life that no one could ever fill. Ali was now the same age I was when Mum died and I wanted to protect her for as long as I could. It was hard out in the world.

There were so many times over the years when I’d just wanted to pick up the phone and talk to my mother. To ask her advice, or cry about something or just tell her that I loved her and she had two beautiful granddaughters whom she would have doted on. To tell her that Ali looked just like her but Sarah had her eyes. To tell her that I’d set up my own business and was doing well. To tell her that I’d married a good man. To tell her that I was doing the best I could but that some days were really tough. That I wasn’t managing to juggle it all. I wasn’t a great mum, great wife and great businesswoman, but I tried – I really tried. I wanted to tell her that sometimes when I was giving the girls advice I used her exact phrases. I wanted to tell her that I was looking after Charlie for her.

I wanted to tell her that I appreciated everything she did for me growing up and that she was the best mum in the world and I was really trying to be like her, but I was struggling at the moment. That I felt overwhelmed with everything that was going on. That I felt I was losing control and didn’t know how to handle it.

I wanted to tell her that I still missed her every single day …

16

The next day, Sally arrived in work wearing black leggings with a short-sleeved black woollen mini-dress over them and high black wedge-heel boots. She looked cool, stylish and gorgeous. ‘Morning,’ she said, putting her bag down and heading over to the coffee machine.

‘Hi,’ I replied.