Daughters (17 page)

‘I shall have to be careful with my language.’

‘Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Yes, you did.’

There was a frisson. A cool one.

‘Do it,’ said Maudie, extra loudly.

‘Yes? No?’

She felt a clutch of panic.

Will it always be like this? This was the question she had asked the woman – the woman with an empty, grieving body – who had stumbled outside the house she used to share with Bill. The early-morning light streamed over London and she had stretched out her arms … to encounter nothing.

‘For God’s sake …’ Maudie’s voice was a whiplash.

Lara said, ‘Hold on, Robin.’ She covered up the phone. ‘Maudie, Robin is a
colleague.
’

‘Don’t link your past experiences to present ones. Think of them as entirely separate,’ she counselled her patients. ‘Just because you’ve failed in the past it doesn’t mean to have to fail again, and now.’

‘Robin, thank you but no,’ she said.

Eve’s email:

Wedding Plans: Engagement Party. DON’T BE LATE.

Andrew’s parents, Dorothea and Nigel Havant, would never be close friends. First off, Dorothea had the tact of a rhino. ‘Andrew tells me you worked when the children were young.’ For her own reasons, Dorothea was determined to make the point within minutes of meeting Lara. ‘Andrew and Isobel always had me around. We thought it best. It’s so important for a growing child.’

Second, and this was the gigantic elephant in the room, Lara was pretty sure they didn’t care for Eve. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, just an instinct. Possibly, this was because Eve didn’t much like Nigel and Dorothea. Eve pointed out, ‘I haven’t had time to get used to them,’ adding, in a slightly desperate way, ‘but I will.’

Still, they put on a good show. As Nigel confided, ‘We like to do things properly.’ The consequence was that a hundred and fifty guests were ushered into a pillared room in the – slightly stuffy – Kensington hotel. The choice of venue had been the Havants’, and theirs the starring roles in the receiving line.

‘A receiving line,’ said Maudie. ‘Now I’ve heard everything.’

Bill was in his place beside Eve. She looked wonderful and was wearing her mother’s diamond earrings, virtually Mary’s only legacy, which her daughters took turns to wear.

‘You ought to be in the line too,’ Bill had suggested to Lara, in a kindly, even-handed way.

‘Best not,’ she informed. ‘The politics are too complicated.’ Also, she didn’t wish to hurt Sarah or make her feel uncomfortable.

Instead, dressed in a Prada (bargain of the year) skirt and a short-sleeved black cashmere sweater, both of which she had swooped down on in a ‘Second Hand Rose’, she took up a pole position by an ivy-decked pillar to observe. She ticked off relations: middle-aged, old and older (the women tended to wear frocks with belts). Friends: young and very young. They were all clever-clever, sharp and making their way, and the girls tended to wear nothing much below the crotch. But, she thought, they looked as smart and confident as the younger generation should look.

Pretty soon Jasmine, in a short, tight Roland Mouret-inspired dress and pointed elastic half-boots, joined Lara and kissed her warmly. Lara pointed to the receiving line. ‘Enjoy.’

Dorothea alternated her greetings between a practised ‘Lovely to meet you,’ and ‘So wonderful you could come.’ In her mid-calf russet dress and string of pearls (so modest and yellow they could only have been real), she made no concessions to the anti-ageing lobby.

‘I rather admire her refusal to gussy herself up,’ Lara whispered to Jasmine.

Jasmine wrinkled her nose. ‘Yes and no.’

Every so often, Dorothea turned to her son and observed him with pride and an avid loving possessiveness that Lara understood perfectly. Watching a child on show and willing onlookers to bow down in the face of their beauty and superiority was one of the (many) facets of a parent’s vicarious and (precarious) existence.

The noise level climbed. Lara and Jasmine caught admiring comments about the décor and flowers. Eve had pinned down the florist, ordered bunches of cow parsley and asked her to mix into it dusty pink roses. Cow parsley, according to Eve, was known as the flower that ‘breaks your mother’s heart’. Not, she assured Lara, with a glimmer of a smile, that that was the reason she had chosen it. Lara couldn’t resist asking about the
feng
shui
. ‘Don’t be silly, Mum.’ Eve embarked on a short lecture. Excitement circled her like a halo and, to Lara’s fond, fascinated eye, she appeared to shimmer. ‘Since I have no control over the room, true
feng shui
is not possible. OK?’

Whatever, thought Lara, surveying the precise positioning of the vases and the pretty lights. The effect was magical.

The happy couple stood tightly together. Every so often, Andrew put an arm around Eve or said something into her ear. Once, Eve leaned against him in a soppy way that gladdened Lara’s heart. Where was Maudie? ‘You must be thrilled about Andrew,’ was a
frequent comment to which she almost grew sick of responding.

‘Lara.’ Bill materialized at her elbow. Clamped to his arm was Sarah, looking very attractive in lilac linen with gold bangles.

Jasmine said at once, ‘Lovely dress, Sarah.’

Bill drew Lara aside – and they regarded each other from across a great divide. He was looking well, with a fresh, vigorous tinge to his complexion. ‘I wanted to say thank you.’ He was referring to the new financial arrangement, which had now been formalized with the lawyers and signed off. ‘We appreciate it.’

Their final sundering had taken years. Now it had happened, she felt maddening and contrary pangs of withdrawal. Did he? ‘It was time to be financially independent of each other, wasn’t it?’

For a moment, they hovered on the brink of saying something.

He lowered his chin in the way that had so often made her angry – but which, once, she had also loved to distraction. ‘It’s been a long time, Lara. I am sure we could have managed better but we’ve made it.’

‘Certainly.’ She smiled. ‘Let’s not go there.’

‘No, let’s not.’ But he didn’t sound absolutely certain – which was new.

They exchanged a look. They did, and didn’t, want to venture further into that dark, sad place. It was too great a risk.

She steered them on to safer ground. ‘How are things shaping at Membury?’

A gleam lit up in Bill. ‘Hedges. They occupy me day and night. I’m trying to sort them out using, of all things, a billhook I found in the shed.’

She envisaged him using the ancient curved blade, stooping over to layer the roots and branches. Each hedge had different shapes and needs. Without being told, she knew Bill would be intent on finding them. He would make it his business.

‘I like the outfit,’ he said. ‘Looks expensive.’

The old defensive reflex kicked in. ‘What do you mean by that?’

There was a burst of laughter from a group standing close to them. ‘For God’s sake,’ said a male voice.

For a second or two, their accord was in danger of disintegrating. Then Lara forced a smile to her lips and said lightly and wryly, ‘If you mean I’ve been extravagant, let me assure you –’

‘No,’ he said, retrieving the situation. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. I meant –’

She took pity and rescued him. ‘I know what you meant.’ She thought of the second-hand shop with its discarded clothes on wire hangers.

Sarah caught her eye. ‘You will come down to Membury again, won’t you, Lara?’ Her blonde features reflected nothing but concern. Lara leaned over and kissed her cheek. Because Sarah believed in things turning out for the best, sometimes they did.

‘You’re a very good person. I’ll see you later.’

With Tess in tow, Maudie had now arrived, in a black linen shift Lara hadn’t seen before and her hair drawn
high on to her head in a tumbling ponytail. Black didn’t suit her, and Lara was sorry because she had wanted to show off her daughter.

If Maudie’s dress let her down, her manners (or was it conscience?) did not. She buttonholed Eve and exclaimed over her outfit – which, being Japanese, designer and incredibly chic, was everything of which Lara approved.

‘Glad you like it,’ she heard Eve say.

She and Jasmine went over to join them – only to collide with a pretty, frail-looking girl in a bright blue dress, who pushed past without regard. So hard and fast was the girl’s flight that she clipped the edge of the table. The glasses arranged on it wobbled, and a jug of cow parsley and roses fell over on the starched tablecloth.

Dusty pink roses scattered on to the floor and disappeared underfoot. Cow parsley lay on soaked linen. Eve gave a small, startled cry and swivelled around. On seeing the girl, on seeing what had happened, she gave a second cry: slightly wild, slightly shocked. Lara’s senses snapped into alert.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ said the girl. ‘I’m so stupid.’

‘Don’t worry.’ Eve was barely audible. She groped on the floor for a rose.

Andrew was immediately by her side. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, and pulled her upright. ‘
Nothing
to get in a state about. OK, Eve?’ He held on to her tightly.

Too tightly, thought Lara.

‘My lovely roses,’ Eve said, as if they mattered more than anything.

The girl in the blue dress vanished.

Andrew released Eve, grabbed a passing waiter and snaffled another drink.

Eve thrust the flowers at Lara. ‘Take them away. Bin them.’

Lara was alarmed by Eve’s expression. ‘I’ll deal with them.’

‘Just do it, Mum. Please.’

She turned away and Lara found herself cradling wet stems and crushed blossoms. Someone had bothered to strip the roses of their thorns, and the scars appeared very white on the green-brown woody stem. She touched one. She knew about scars.

Eventually, in the corridor, she found a bin, stuffed the flowers into it and returned to the room, which was now a heaving, buzzing mass. Movement was restricted. ‘Good,’ reported Jasmine, in Lara’s ear, casting her expert eye around. ‘All good. Trust me, when you get this level of noise, it’s going well.’

Holding a fresh glass of champagne, Lara edged through the guests and managed to corner the Havants. ‘A great success,’ she told them.

Dorothea’s lipstick had worn off, her nose positively ached for a dab of foundation, and she was in tell-like-it-is mode. ‘Eve did it all.’

Lara picked up the undercurrent.

‘Dot,’ said Nigel.

Lara thought rapidly. ‘Oh dear, are you feeling excluded too?’ She did the ridiculous thing of trying to clink glasses with Dorothea. ‘I’ll join the club. Eve and Andrew seem to have it all in hand. There’s nothing for me to do.’

Dorothea shrugged. ‘I’ve been given my orders. I expect you have too. I’m to research hotels for the guests overnighting after the wedding …’

‘Probably quite easy on the Internet?’

With enormous triumph, Dorothea said, ‘We don’t have a computer.’

Round One to her.

‘Best to talk to Eve, then,’ Lara said. ‘I’m sure it’s very simple to deal with.’ Dorothea looked doubtful. ‘Eve is very clear-headed – if there’s a problem, she’ll sort it out.’

Dorothea fingered the yellowing pearls. ‘She’s very … decided, isn’t she?’ Nigel cast a wild glance in Dorothea’s direction but his wife ignored him. ‘Of course, given the circumstances, you will see things more clearly.’

The bad press endured by stepmothers never ceased to amaze her (blame Snow White). If Lara had got this right, Dorothea was assuming that she, Lara, would be more inclined to agree with a criticism, however oblique, of a stepchild as opposed to a child. ‘Eve is organized and efficient and I admire her for it. I also love her more than I can say.’

Round Two to Lara.

‘I don’t think you understand.’ Dorothea lowered her voice. ‘I’m not used to being told what to do.’

Of course not. A lifetime of bossing was conveyed by that last sentence.

‘Neither am I,’ Lara said, sharpish. ‘But it’s their wedding.’

Dorothea tried one last tack. ‘Imagine ordering cow parsley from
France
 … but Eve wouldn’t listen to me.’

The maternal claws unsheathed. ‘Dorothea, this is not the moment. Why don’t you talk to her and sort things out?’

‘Good plan,’ said Nigel, who had been listening in cowed silence.

‘I’ll see you later at dinner.’

They moved off. At that moment, Eve swung round to Bill and said something to him. He replied. She looked up at him, smiling and – Lara could tell – a little anxious. He bent over and cupped Eve’s face with his hand. The likeness between them was peas-in-a-pod unmistakable – a likeness she could not possibly share. The light caught the diamonds in Eve’s ears. Mary’s earrings.

Mary, Mary, why did you have to die? You should be here. Time was, her feelings about Mary had been mixed – not particularly commendable. But at this moment she felt outraged on her behalf. Mary
couldn’t
see her daughters. There was a membrane between her and them, between her dead state and their living radiance.

That made her think about change. For that was coming too.

Fact. In marrying Andrew, Eve would be quitting the closed, intimate circle of the oddly shaped family, which, against the odds, Lara had held together. Think years of sticky furniture and disgusting spaghetti hoops, of fighting knotted hair, of scooping up endless pairs of knickers, of straining in the dark to hear puffy little breaths, of lying awake with the cares of the world heavy on her shoulders, thinking,
This is it?

She drank some of the champagne. Eve looked up,
spotted her. After a moment, she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. An old private signal.

That helped. Lara acknowledged the gesture and applied for reinforcement to the glass.

Ghettoed in a corner, Tess and Maudie were deep in conversation. At Lara’s approach, the conversation guillotine whooshed down and the two girls, silenced, turned bland countenances in her direction. Tess was sporting a nose-ring, a fake tattoo on her arm and scarlet streaks in her hair.

‘Sorry to interrupt.’

‘We were just talking about Thailand,’ said Tess. ‘Backpacking …’ She shrugged. ‘Do you think Vicky will let me go?’ She always called her mother by her Christian name, which Maudie admired hugely.