Strings Attached (22 page)

‘She had lots of insecurities,’ Brian admitted.

‘I’ll make a start on the washing up,’ George offered, standing up.

‘No, don’t do that. I’ll do it later,’ Heather said abruptly.

‘Right then - I’d better catch up with the tournament. Let this chicken feast go down before pudding,’ Brian said, getting up from the table and scurrying towards the door to the lounge.

‘Sit down George, please,’ Heather told her.

Now she really wanted to go home. Her mother seemed to be in the mood for some sort of reconciliation and she didn’t want to have to react to that.

‘Mum, I’m going to Spain in a few weeks. Perhaps it might be a good idea if you asked Aunty Linda to come and stay with you for a bit,’ George suggested.

‘I know all about it. Adam told me. You’re catering the wedding of his favourite musician. It’s apparently going to be the event of the decade,’ Heather said.

‘Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far but
..
.’

‘It’s a fantastic opportunity for your business. You should be very proud. I am,’ Heather admitted her eyes meeting with George’s.

‘You’re proud?’ George said, checking she had heard right.

‘Of course I am George. You’re my daughter.’

‘But I let you down, I disobeyed you and I got pregnant.’

‘I know.’

‘I got drunk and I started fights and I brought the police to your door,’ George continued.

‘I know and Mrs Jessop from number eighteen always finds some way to bring all that back up when we get chatting over her carnations.’

‘You hated me,’ George said.

‘No I didn’t. I hated myself for making you like that.’

‘What?’

‘Because that’s exactly what I was like when I was your age Georgina. It was history repeating itself and I didn’t want that to happen,’ Heather blurted out.

Her confession made George retake her seat with a bump.

‘We’re not so dissimilar you and I. Of course it was Elvis in my day, not Billy Idol, but I was young once and keen to experiment with boys,’ Heather began.

‘Mum I don’t know why you’re telling me this now,’ George said, toying with her fork.

‘I’m telling you now, because I don’t want to see out my days and leave you thinking I don’t care. I do care, but I’m stubborn and proud, just like you. And as the years went by and we drifted further and further apart it was harder to get any sort of relationship back, whilst still saving face. I’m not so concerned with my face these days. Getting diagnosed with cancer makes you put things into perspective,’ Heather continued.

‘I don’t understand,’ George said.

‘I had a boyfriend my parents didn’t like. He was called Teddy. He had a quiff like Bobby Darin and he rode a moped. We used to go to all the dances, stay out past midnight, drink too much and because he was older than me, my parents put their foot down, forbid me from seeing him, just like I did with what’s his name
..
.’

‘Paul,’ George filled in.

‘Yes, Paul. Well, to cut a long story short, I ended up in the family way.’

George’s hand went to her mouth at this revelation. All the grief her mother had given her when she had been in the same situation came back to her now. She’d called her a ‘harlot’ back then, ‘cheap’ and ‘easy’. Her expression had been hard as rocks, her voice venomous, a tirade of poisonous words coming thick and fast.

And then George’s eyes widened further still. What exactly was she telling her?

‘Not me?! You’re not telling me thi
s baby was me! That Dad isn’t...
’ George exclaimed her heart palpitating.

‘No. No, it wasn’t you. You know you have your father’s eyes. Those soft
,
brown
,
caramel coloured eyes, with eyelashes to die for. Don’t tell him I said that,’ Heather said, smiling at her.

‘Then if you knew what I was going through, why did you react the way you did? Why have you been pushing me away all this time?’

‘Because I wanted the best for you and I knew you would never do what I did. I aborted my baby, I wasn’t given a choice and I didn’t have the relationship with Teddy that you had with Paul. When I told Teddy about the pregnancy he shrugged his shoulders. Shrugged his shoulders George! Well, I fell out of love with him pretty quickly after that, but it wasn’t like that with you was it? You really loved Paul didn’t you?’

George nodded her head, memories of him seeping into her mind.

‘But despite what you felt for him, he’d left and I couldn’t let a teenage pregnancy ruin your future like it almost ruined mine. I wanted more for you than that, so much more, and look at you now,’ Heather spoke proudly.

‘You should have tried to understand, when Paul left I had no one,’ George told her.

‘I did understand. In my own controlling and overbearing way. That’s why I did what I did with the baby,’ Heather said.

‘I don’t want to talk about the baby,’ George said immediately her hand reaching for the chain around her neck and the ring that hung there.

‘I know I didn’t handle things as well as I should have, but I still think we did the right thing,’ Heather continued.

‘I’ve got to go, I’ve got some prep to do for tomorrow’s events,’ George said hurriedly standing up and pushing back her chair.

‘George, sometimes we have to talk about difficult things no matter how uncomfortable they are. Like the fact that I might die from this disease,’ Heather said bluntly.

‘Mother you won’t die. You’re never ill. Our medicine cupboard only ever comprised Andrews Liver Salts and Vicks Vaporub,’ George reminded her.

‘I want to put things right just in case
-
with the baby,’ Heather told her seriously.

‘No,’ George said.

‘I think we need to.’

‘I said no. I can’t do this now. I’ve got to go. I’ll phone you, at the hospital. It will all be fine, you’ll see,’ George said
,
hurriedly picking up her bag and heading for the door.

‘George
...
’ Heather called after her.

‘Bye Dad,’ George offered into the lounge as she hurried past.

‘Oh bye love. Woods was
just
under par on that last hole.’

‘I read about it. It was all over the papers. See you.’

Twenty One

He wanted to call her. He wanted to hear her voice, even if it was just for a second. Since he’d got back to LA he’d barely been alone for a minute. It seemed like he was even being accompanied to the bathroom. He could hardly breathe, let alone get time to speak to someone he shouldn’t be speaking to. He ached for her, actually ached inside. He didn’t even have a photograph of her. He had never wanted someone so badly and here he was, stood in a flower shop while Taylor asked his advice on which shade of pink he wanted for the bouquets. F**k this situation!

‘So what do you think? For the wedding? The lilac maxi dress or the floral mini dress?’ Marisa asked, holding both items of clothing up against herself.

George, Marisa and Helen were in George’s living room, about to have
an
Indian takeaway. It was to celebrate an excellent afternoon’s work at Bowater Manor where they’d been catering for a charity fashion show. It was also the night before their flight to Spain for the wedding preparations. It was an early morning departure and the women, along with Adam, were staying over.

Heather’s
operation had gone well. Her left breast had been removed and she was at home recovering and waiting for the next tranche of treatment. George had visited a couple of times, brought her chocolates, told her about the intricacies of the wedding menu and refused to talk about the baby. She was saying anything about everything, just to stop her from having a long enough pause to even mention the baby.

She hadn’t heard from Quinn at all since she’d left him in the helicopter. She wasn’t surprised, but she was a little disappointed. She could have done with a distraction, something to take her mind off things for a while. She knew it needed to end, especially now the wedding was imminent, but she wished they’d had longer, been able to share some real time together, instead of rushed moments in a window of opportunity.

But in reality it had been a hot, urgent, tantalising affair that would never have lasted. Men like Quinn lived fast, hectic lives, travelling across the globe from event to event; she wouldn’t have been enough for him. Before too long he would have got bored with her and moved on. Perhaps that was what he had done already.

‘Marisa, you’ll be wearing your white shirt and black skirt for serving as soon as the reception starts,’ Helen reminded her.

‘Yeah, like I know that, but come on! Half the world’s press are going to be there, I can’t be seen in the wedding pictures wearing a white shirt and a black skirt. I will be a lot of things, but I will not be monotone,’ Marisa said horrified by the thought.

‘You mean monochrome,’ George told her.

‘I mean like boring and ancient.’

‘Marisa, waitresses are expected to wear black and white outfits, not maxi dresses or floral minis,’ George said.

‘Yeah but, just say I wasn’t waitressing or catering or anything, just a guest. Which one?’ Marisa wanted to know.

‘The maxi dress,’ George and Helen said at the same time.

‘God you are both like
sooo
predictable,’ Marisa complained sulkily.

There was a tap on the back door and George hurried to answer it.

‘That’ll be Adam with the food. Can you get some plates out guys?’ she called, striding down the hall.

She opened the door and greeted Adam with four bags of takeaway food.

‘Hey that van you’ve got now is awesome. I got it doing eighty, without breaking a sweat, down the high street,’ Adam said with a smile, taking off his beanie hat as he entered the house.

‘You better not have!’ George exclaimed as she took the bags from him.

‘He better not have what?’ Marisa wanted to know as she came into the room.

‘He’s trying to break the sound barrier with my new van,’ George complained.

‘Isn’t it cool? Sometimes when we’re at the traffic lights I think she’s stalled it the engine’s that quiet. Hey, I hope you remembered to tell them no tomatoes in mine, because I’ll be sick if I like even have them anywhere near my tongue,’ Marisa told Adam.

‘I remembered everything, I think. You did want a vindaloo didn’t you Marisa?’ Adam teased.

‘You have got to be joking? You are joking aren’t you? If you’ve got me a vindaloo I will like kill you. I am well starving,’ Marisa exclaimed.

Adam laughed and Marisa hurriedly whipped him in the chest with a tea towel.

‘So gullible,’ he joked, taking a carton from George and helping to dish up the food.

‘And you’re full of it,’ Marisa retorted.

‘Come on you two. I’m not having a week of you sniping at each other. This is a big occasion we’re catering for,’ Helen reminded them.

‘Yeah it’s like the most awesome event of the entire year and we’re going to be there, centre stage,’ Marisa said.

‘Not centre stage, in the background working hard,’ George told her.

‘Well, you two can be wallflowers if you like, but a wallflower I am not,’ Marisa replied, licking the fork she was holding.

‘Is Geraint OK about you going away for a week?’ George asked Helen, referring to her husband.

‘Yes fine. I stocked up the cupboards with meals for one and takeaway menus and he has the car to himself. He’ll be more than happy. I totally expect him to have RSI in his remote control hand by the time we get back,’ Helen told her with a chuckle.

‘Well I’m really grateful to have you all coming over with me,’ George spoke to the group.

‘Where else would we be if we weren’t with you at the event of the decade?’ Adam asked, grinning at Marisa.

‘It
sooo
is,’ Marisa insisted.

‘I know. But I appreciate your help and I know with the twenty or so staff we have to boss about and the state of the art catering wagon, the thought of which is really freaking me out, we’re going to make the sort of culinary impression the world has been waiting for,’ George told them.

‘Here here,’ Helen said, raising a poppadom in the air.

‘God, let’s go and eat before she makes any more speeches,’ Adam said, picking up some plates.

‘I am so going to get a tan. I can’t wait,’ Marisa spoke.

‘You will not be getting a tan. You have dark hair and fair skin, it
’
s factor thirty for you and I’ll apply it myself if I have to,’ Helen warned her.