Frisky Business (17 page)

‘But that’s just life, Romy. People die … and split up. Besides, your father dying is nothing like Danny and Paul. He died – he never stopped loving you.’

If only she knew!
Romy thought about telling her mother the truth now about how she had got Luke. If she told her, she would understand. She would tell her how she hadn’t been herself when she went out and fucked a stranger in a cupboard, and her mother would understand why nothing had seemed to matter to her then – why a connection with someone she had just met had seemed at once as precious and meaningless as a relationship with someone she had known her entire life. Because they could both turn to dust in seconds. It would be a relief to finally have it all out in the open. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to do it, but once again she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She looked at her mother’s kind, loving face and her courage deserted her. Because what if she didn’t understand? What if she looked at her the way her father had that night – with such hurt and disappointment, such anger and … hatred. She shuddered inwardly at the word.

‘Just don’t be afraid to grab whatever life offers, Romy. You never were before. It used to worry me sometimes how you threw yourself full-tilt into everything you did and gave so much of yourself to people. But that’s you, and now I miss it.’

Romy nodded, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ her mother said, patting her hand. ‘And this won’t be cheering Danny up,’ she added with an apologetic look at her son.

‘Actually,
I was just wondering if I could tie all the napkins together and fashion a noose for myself,’ Danny said.

‘Okay, change of subject. Let’s talk about celebrity gossip and trashy TV,’ Marian said gleefully, and both her children smiled. ‘There’s no one to disapprove of us now.’

She felt disloyal even thinking it, but Romy had to admit Sunday lunches were a lot more light-hearted now than they had been when her father was alive. He had always dominated the conversation, and they had discussed politics and current affairs, debating the big issues of the day. He would expound on the background behind the headlines – the stories about corrupt governments, foreign wars and economic crises that he covered. She hadn’t resented it. He knew how to tell a story, and he had lots of stories to tell. It was always interesting and stimulating. But lunch with her mother was different – it was
fun.

Maybe they were all more relaxed now, she thought, looking at Danny. Their father had been charming and charismatic, but he had also been something of a bully. He had always claimed to value independent thought, and encouraged his children to express their opinions, but Romy had seen the harangues that Danny and her mother were subjected to when they disagreed with him or put up a stubborn, emotional resistance to his rational, analytical arguments. Romy had always been on the same side as him. She questioned now if she had actually agreed with him or if she had been subconsciously trying to win his approval. It had made her feel special to be allied with her brilliant, incisive father. But now she wondered had he been coaching her all along, priming her to go along with whatever he wanted, whatever he thought was right – to trust his judgement and never question or defy him. Had he been training her to be his co-conspirator?

No, she mustn’t think that. She would drive herself crazy.

She
was being paranoid. He couldn’t possibly have known it would come to
that.
Her father wasn’t a monster – she shouldn’t make him into one now that he was dead. She felt even more disloyal for her thoughts in light of what her mother had said about Romy being his favourite. She wondered if it was true. He hadn’t always been happy with her choices, but like all bullies, he perversely had more respect for people who stood up to him, and she had always been less cowed by him than Danny. He had been disappointed – disapproving even – when she didn’t follow in his footsteps and go to university, but she had never had academic aspirations. She preferred doing practical things, and she didn’t want to study law or medicine just because she could, because she had the grades. He had reproached her for wasting her brains and doing what he had called ‘navvy work’. But she had stuck to her guns, and in the end he had come round. He had admired her energy and work ethic, and had respected her integrity and independence. She was glad that he had come to be proud of her for making a success of her chosen career, and glad too that she had stood her ground, not just for her own sake, but for Danny’s. Without her paving the way, Danny might never have had the courage to pursue his dream of becoming a landscape gardener, and could have allowed himself to be pushed into some line of work where he would have been miserable, his real talents wasted.

‘Jeez, does no one have any scandal?’ Danny said suddenly, shaking her out of her contemplative silence.

‘I don’t know who Luke’s father is,’ Romy said, looking at her mother. She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that – she hadn’t planned to say it
at all.
It had just popped out. She felt her skin get hot.

Danny turned to her with a ‘what the fuck?’ look. ‘I was thinking of something more along the lines of who’s Jennifer Aniston’s
latest squeeze. Is Lindsay Lohan back in rehab? That sort of thing.’

‘I just need to say this,’ she said to him apologetically. Her mother was looking at her confusedly.

‘But what about—’

‘It’s not Kit.’

‘
Kit?
’ Danny turned to her, his eyes theatrically wide, mouth hanging open.

‘I’ll explain later,’ she mumbled to him.

‘But …’ her mother began, her brow furrowed, ‘Luke is the image of him.’

‘You just think that because you thought he was the father.’ ‘You’re not just saying this because he’s come home now and doesn’t want to be involved?’

‘No. It really isn’t him.’

‘But you told me it was an old friend …’

‘I know – because I knew you were worried about me, and I didn’t want to tell you the truth.’ She took a deep breath. ‘The fact is I don’t know who his father is. It was a one-night stand – with a total stranger. I don’t even know his name.’

There, she’d said it. It was done. Her mother was looking at her in silence, and Romy wished she knew what she was thinking.

‘That’s not like you, Romy,’ she said finally. There was no judgement in her tone – it was just a statement of fact.

‘No, it’s not like me. But it happened. And it’s okay.’ She looked at her mother steadily, trying to convey reassurance with her eyes.

Her mother nodded silently. Then suddenly she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘Oh my God, the other day at your house! Poor Kit must have thought I was some kind of loon!’

‘What did you do?’ Danny asked.

‘I was – oh God.’ She put a hand to her forehead. ‘I gave him
Luke to hold, and I was going on about them needing to spend time together to bond.’

‘It’s okay, Mum – I told him why you were acting like that. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about. It was all my fault.’

‘Did he go apeshit?’ Danny asked.

‘No.’ Romy smiled. ‘He was really nice about it, actually.’

‘See, I told you I liked that boy,’ Marian said, smiling at her.

‘Okay,
now
can we dish the dirt on Cheryl Cole and Victoria Beckham?’ Danny asked, and they all laughed.

‘I was at the hairdresser’s this week, so I’m all stocked up on celebrity gossip,’ Marian said, topping up all their glasses. ‘Ask me anything.’

And just like that, everything was back to normal.

‘Do you think Mum seems different these days?’ Romy asked Danny later as they shared a taxi home, Luke asleep in his car seat beside her. She felt mellow from the wine and boneless with the relief of having finally told her mother the truth.

‘Happier, you mean?’

‘Well … yeah,’ she admitted reluctantly. It seemed wrong to say it.

‘Yeah, I think she is – some of the time anyway. It doesn’t mean she wasn’t happy then. She just has a different sort of happiness now.’

‘You know what she said …’ she hesitated.

‘About you being Dad’s favourite?’

‘It wasn’t true, you know. At least not—’

‘Hey, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t help being perfect.’ He grinned at her.

Romy gave a little moue of dissatisfaction. ‘I wasn’t perfect. That’s a horrible thing to say.’

‘Anyway,
you weren’t
always
his favourite.’

‘No?’

‘No. I had my moment in the spotlight. There was the time I came out, don’t forget. I was his favourite for at least a month after that.’

‘Oh, at least,’ Romy said, giggling. Her father had revelled in the cachet of having a gay son, wearing it like a badge of pride, further testimony to his liberal credentials.

‘Most of my gay friends put off coming out to their parents because they were afraid of how they’d react. I just didn’t want to give Dad the satisfaction.’

‘You brat! No wonder I was his favourite.’

‘I knew he’d be unbearable about it,’ Danny said, rolling his eyes. ‘And he was. Anyone would think it was all his idea.’ Romy smiled fondly. ‘Pity he missed me becoming a single mum.’

‘He’d have been so proud.’

‘He really would.’ She sniffed. ‘He’d want to kill Paul.’

‘I know.’ Danny’s smile faded and he looked out the window.

‘I
want to kill Paul.’

‘Mum wants to kill Paul,’ Danny mumbled without turning around.

‘We
all
want to kill Paul.’

‘I miss him.’ Danny turned to her, his eyes shining with tears.

‘Paul?’

He shook his head. ‘Dad. I still miss him so much sometimes.’

‘I know.’ Romy put her hand over his. ‘Me too.’

‘And then sometimes I don’t,’ Danny said, ‘and that’s worse. Sometimes, I’m kind of glad he’s not there, and I feel So …’

‘Guilty,’
Romy finished.

‘Yeah.’ Danny sighed.

‘I think it’s the same for Mum. I know she misses him. But she seems … more relaxed. More herself or something.’

‘Freer,’ Danny said.

‘Yeah, freer,’ Romy said, almost to herself.

Romy sighed and looked out past her reflection in the car window into the darkness of the night. That was how she felt too, now that the truth was out. Free and ready for a new start – no more lies. Her mother was right: she had shut herself off from life for too long. Maybe this secret had been holding her back and now she would be able to move forward again. She already felt that life was opening up, full of possibilities. Suddenly, she felt like anything could happen.

Romy
had arranged to drive down to Wicklow with Kit to look at his house the following day. It was a cold, wet day, rain coming down in slanting sheets. She had already been out and left Luke with her mother when Kit called at ten o’clock.

‘Do you want a cup of coffee before we go?’ she asked as he shook himself in the hallway like a wet dog. ‘I just have something I want to finish first.’

‘Yes, please. That’d be good.’ He took off his coat and hung it on the coat-stand in the hallway, and followed her into the kitchen. Romy already had a mug of coffee sitting on the little table alongside her laptop. She poured Kit a mug from the coffee pot and he sat down opposite her.

‘Sorry,
I just want to get this done,’ she said, clicking the mouse. ‘It’ll only take a few minutes.’

‘What is it?’ Kit peered at the laptop.

‘I’m trying to word an ad for the flat downstairs. I want to get it up on Daft this morning.’

‘You have a flat to let?’

‘Yes,’ she said absently, as she started to type. ‘One of the basements.’

‘Um, Romy …’

‘Yes?’ she said, without looking up.

‘Well … I’m sort of looking for somewhere …’

‘Oh.’ Romy raised her head, catching the hopeful tone in his voice. He was looking at her expectantly and her heart sank. ‘The thing is, the rent on that flat is really cheap—’

‘That wouldn’t be a problem,’ he said, smiling.

‘Well, yes, but the reason it’s cheap—’