A Wild Affair (13 page)

I nodded gratefully. “You think she'll mind?”

Max shook his head. “Esther, I think I'm going to take Jess out for some brunch. She's got quite a lot to take in, wouldn't you say?”

“What a lovely idea. I'm famished,” my mother said brightly. “How thoughtful, Max. So, where are we going?”

He faltered slightly. “Oh, right. Oh, you want to …”

My mother's face fell. “You weren't inviting me, were you? Oh, silly me. Of course. I'm not really
in the gang
yet, am I? I suppose I have to earn my place, don't I?”

Max shook his head. “No, Esther. No, I just thought … I mean …” He looked at me helplessly.

“Of course you're in the gang,” I said quickly, trying to swallow the disappointment rising up my stomach. “We'd love you to come, Mum. Honest we would.”

“Oh, how wonderful.” My mother smiled, linking arms with the two of us, placing herself firmly in the middle. “We all have so much to catch up on, now don't we?”

Max didn't even ask me where I'd been. That's how trusting he was. He kept putting his arm around me and squeezing me, and he didn't seem to notice that I couldn't look him in the eye, not properly. We went to Browns for brunch, an old school restaurant with dark wood tables and paneling on the walls, and I wasn't sure I was going to be able to eat anything, but my mother and Max seemed so enthusiastic about the idea that I didn't want to mention that. So I ordered poached eggs on an English muffin and a large latte and as the two of them made idle conversation about the terrible weather, I tried to regain my composure, tried to process the last twenty-four hours in my head, tried to calm my beating heart and racing mind.

The wedding was back on. I had to tell Giles pronto.

Max still loved me. There was no affair, no other woman.

My mother was alive.

I'd slept with Hugh Barter. Maybe. Probably.

I was the kind of person who didn't know if she'd slept with someone.

My mother was a flirt.

That last thought just wended its way into my head unannounced, but as soon as it did I knew that it was absolutely true. She was flirting with Max right in front of my eyes, and hadn't Ivana seen her draped all over him the other night? Mothers didn't do that, not usually, not with their future sons-in-law. And right now, she was flirting with the waiter, putting her hand on his arm completely unnecessarily. If she was so heartbroken to have lost me, why was she smiling at him for all she was worth?

“You have very white teeth,” I said accusingly. She looked at me strangely, then laughed.

“I should hope so. They cost me enough in whitening treatments.”

“Oh,” I said, slightly put out by her honesty. The waiter disappeared and I took a slug of coffee, surreptitiously digging out my phone and sending Giles a text.

Wedding back on. Not affair. Esther = my mother. Long story. x

“Coffee's the worst thing for staining teeth,” my mother said. “After tea, of course. And red wine's terrible, too.”

“So that blows any idea of me having white teeth for the wedding,” Max said, rolling his eyes in mock frustration.

Your mother???!!! Okay, in brief pls
.

“Who would give up those things for the sake of white teeth?” I asked. My mother smiled, refusing to look uncomfortable, which, I realized, was what I'd wanted her to do.

“I think it's a small sacrifice.” She shrugged. “People notice teeth.”

Not dead after all. She ditched me when I was baby. Saw wedding announcement. Max was keeping it as surprise
.

“Do they,” I said flatly. “Do they really.” It wasn't a question, I wasn't looking for an answer.

“Jess, are you okay?” Max asked concernedly.

Surprise? Coronary more like :) So is back on? Knew it would be. Your love shines like the sun. Am thinking sunflowers for ceremony. On invitations, too. How is mother? Must be so wonderful. Am welling up. Need handkerchief. x

“Me? Oh, fine. Absolutely fine.” I smiled brightly. I was fine. I was great. I was … I tapped my foot on the ground, trying to work out the complex mix of emotions that were flooding through me, trying to put my finger on the frustration welling up inside me, the anger. Anger at my mother. Because she wasn't dead, because all that time I'd mourned her and dreamed of her and wished she was alive so she could rescue me and look after me and love me, and now here she was, larger than life, with white bloody teeth and red lipstick and … and … And then I realized what it was I was feeling. I was feeling like a petulant teenager. Years of pent-up frustration were unleashing themselves on her, blaming her for everything from my lack of confidence to the fact that I'd kissed Hugh Barter. It was all her fault. I wanted to stamp my feet and slam doors and shout at her.

But instead, I just kept on smiling and I ate my eggs and English muffin—particularly the muffin, after my mother pushed her toast to the side and sighed that no one could keep their figure while eating carbs.

“You don't want your toast?” I asked. “Can I have it then?”

Sunflowers great. Mother okay
.

My mother opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again.

“Jess doesn't have to worry about her figure,” Max said proudly. “Do you, darling? The only girl I know who hasn't gone on some stupid diet for her wedding.”

“No,” I agreed. “No, I haven't.”

“Then you're fortunate,” my mother said, taking a sip of her green tea.

Just okay? No tearful reunion? Clutching each other? Do you need me to choreograph something?

“I think you make your own fortune in life,” I said. “Don't you?”

My mother looked at me hesitantly, then she smiled. “Did I hear from Max that you inherited some money? That was very fortunate, wouldn't you say?”

I stared at her suspiciously. “That's right.”

“Well, I hope you invest it wisely,” she said lightly.

“Of course she will,” Max said immediately. “Jess does everything wisely. She's quite incredible. Esther, whether you were there or not to raise her, you have produced a wonderful daughter. You should be very proud.”

I blushed and my mother smiled bashfully. “Oh,” she said, “I really can't take the credit for that.”

“But you must,” Max continued. “She is the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's funny, she's clever, she's thoughtful, she's beautiful, and she's the person I trust more than anyone else in the world.”

“You do?” I asked, a lump appearing in my throat. “Really?”

Got to go. Madly in love
.

“Really,” Max said, leaning over to kiss me. But instead of feeling reassured, I felt worse, felt like the world was caving in on me. My heart was pounding madly and I could feel beads of sweat appearing on my forehead. I had to talk to Hugh. Had to make it clear that nothing was ever going to happen between us again and, more important, that no one would hear about last night. Had to exorcise him from my memory somehow.

Desperately, I pulled away. “I need to go,” I said. “To the rest-room,” I explained when I was met by Max's baffled expression.

He grinned. “For a moment there I was worried. You said that with such finality.”

I grinned back, though my smile didn't quite reach my eyes. “Won't be long.” I got up and walked toward the ladies' room, not daring to turn around to see if Max and my mother were looking at me. I could barely walk in a straight line; it felt like the walls were crashing in on me. This was guilt, I realized. This was what it felt like to betray the person you love. The person who trusts you more than anything in the world.

I pushed the door open, ran to a sink, and leaned over it. I stood like that for a few minutes, just letting myself go, collapsing over the soothing, cool porcelain. And then, slowly, I pulled myself upright, splashed some water on my face, glanced warily at myself in the mirror. It wasn't too bad—my eyes were bloodshot but not scarily so; last night's makeup was actually making me look much better than I suspected I looked underneath. Pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I took a deep breath and then another. And then, once I'd composed myself, I pulled out my mobile phone and dialed Hugh's number.

To my immense relief, he picked up.

“Hugh,” I said breathlessly. “It's Jess.”

“Jess! What a nice surprise. Did you forget something?”

My mind
, I thought to myself.
My common sense
. “No,” I said firmly. “No, Hugh, I have to tell you something.”

“Sure. I'm all ears.”

“I was wrong. About Max. Completely wrong, actually. The wedding's back on. I'm …” I took a deep breath. “I'm hoping that he never has to find out. About us, I mean. Please, Hugh? You understand, right?”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hugh?” I asked tentatively. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Find out about what?”

“About last … Oh, right. Yes, exactly. About what.”

“No, really, sweetie, I've got such a terrible memory these days. What is it I'm meant to be not telling Max?”

I took a deep breath.

“That we had a drink together,” I said hesitantly. “And …”

“And the sleepover?”

“He can't ever know,” I said breathlessly. “Please, Hugh …”

“Next you'll be offering me money to keep quiet. What's the going rate these days?”

I frowned. “I'm sorry?”

“Oh come on, that's how it goes, isn't it? You offer me money and I promise not to breathe a word.”

I didn't say anything for a couple of seconds. Was he serious? Did he really expect me to pay him off?

“You're … I'm sorry, are you asking me for money?”

“I'm not asking for anything, Jess. It's you who called me, remember?” Hugh said evenly. He sounded angry. Had I insulted him by suggesting he was trying to blackmail me? Or was he insulted because I wasn't offering him any money? I felt myself getting hot and scratchy—everything with Hugh was so opaque. I didn't even know if we'd … done anything. I cringed at the thought.

“So you won't say anything?”

“To Max? Jessica, darling, as you well know, Max and I are hardly on close terms. I shouldn't imagine that situation will change in the near future, do you?”

“No,” I said, my throat suddenly very thick. “No, I shouldn't think it will.”

“Well then. Is there anything else?”

“No, I don't think so,” I managed to say.

“Then until next time.”

“There won't be a next …,” I started to say, but Hugh had already hung up. I shut my phone and stared at it, allowing my lungs to fill with air before breathing it all out again.

The door opened and, startled, I dropped my phone and stooped to the ground to pick it up.

“Everything all right, darling? You've been in here rather a long time.”

I stood up quickly to see my mother walking in and reddened immediately. “Um, yes. Yes, I … I just got a call.”

“Good. Your lovely Max is waiting for you. You shouldn't leave him unnecessarily, you know. He's quite a catch.” She walked to the row of sinks, then slowly took out a lipstick and started to apply it carefully. It was bright red, the kind of lipstick I'd never wear, the kind of lipstick Grandma had told me only sluts and tramps wore.

“Have you always worn that lipstick?”

She met my eyes in the mirror and smiled. “Yes I have, actually. Would you like to try some? It might work on you, although I'm not quite sure you have the coloring.”

I shook my head.

“There are other reds, though,” she said, pressing her lips together and smiling at her reflection. “Why don't we go out this afternoon and buy you some? You could look so pretty with a bit of blusher, a touch of highlighter just here …”

She reached out to my face and without meaning to, I flinched. She noticed and withdrew her hand immediately. “I'm sorry. I just thought …”

“Why did you need the money?” I asked. I realized it was the question that I'd wanted to put to her right from the beginning, the question I needed an answer to.

“The money?” She turned back to her reflection, peering at her face as she dabbed powder on it.

“The money from Max. What did you need it for?”

Her eyes flickered back to mine briefly, then returned to her reflection. “For setting up,” she said quietly. “Like Max said.”

I nodded, biting my lip slightly. “You don't have any more debts? You're not gambling anymore?”

“Of course not.” Her eyes flickered slightly and she snapped her compact shut. “Darling, Max is very generous. But you have no reason to worry about me. I'm fine. Haven't gambled for years.”

“Good,” I said, giving her one last look. “Good to hear it.”

BY MONDAY MORNING, I had managed to push all memories of my night with Hugh so deep into the recesses of my mind that I had almost convinced myself it was a dream. My mother, on the other hand, wasn't so easy to forget—she'd refused to leave all weekend and had followed me and Max around constantly. I'd had to bite my lip often because she wouldn't stop making little comments, offering suggestions, giving me advice when I hadn't asked for it, on everything from how my things were arranged in Max's apartment, to what I had for breakfast. I wasn't sure how or why, but my mother had unearthed the insolent teenager in me and now that she was out, she wasn't going anywhere. Max had been shooting me quizzical “is everything okay” looks every time I glowered at her, but I had just given him big “I'm fine” smiles. I couldn't face talking to him properly, not after the Hugh incident. And anyway, I was fine. Sort of.