Just a Family Affair (43 page)

‘Have you talked to Caroline?’

‘God, no. She’s got enough to worry about. And we can’t exchange two words without it turning into a full-scale row.’

‘Well, I think you should. If you’re being beastly—’

‘Beastly?’ James gave a bark of sardonic laughter. It was typical of Lucy to use a word like that. Caroline would use more succinct, four letter words to describe him, he was sure.

‘You are being beastly, James. I’ve seen how you treat her.’ Lucy fixed him with a stern stare. ‘I think if you both went at this as a team, instead of fighting like cats and dogs, you might have a chance. But you’re at each other’s throats. Constantly.’

‘There’s just no respite. This bloody house is chaos. I can’t handle it.’

‘For heaven’s sake, James. I think you’re expecting too much.’

‘Too much?’ James exploded. ‘You always seemed to manage.’ He pointed around the kitchen. ‘You’d never let your house get into a state like this. There were never Cheerios down the back of the sofa and potties full of wee ready to trip over. You never ran out of bog roll. You never gave Mickey macaroni cheese made with a shop-bought sauce three nights running. You didn’t look like a bag lady . . .’

He trailed off miserably.

As he spoke, it struck him that Lucy was root of his problems. Lucy was the dream woman against whom he had compared his own wife. He remembered when Sophie, Georgina and Patrick were little. Honeycote House always had an underlying air of calm, even though there was always something going on. Lucy seemed to juggle parties and fun while always making sure the children were clean and fed and in bed at a decent hour. His enduring memory was of the three children in their pyjamas eating boiled eggs at the kitchen table while Lucy prepared a supper party for twelve. An hour later she would reappear looking impossibly glamorous, the children tucked up in bed, ready to greet her guests with a smile and a tray of home-made canapes. There was no way on God’s earth Caroline could pull that off. It was all she could do to get their own supper on the table, and that was usually inedible.

Lucy was an angel. Mickey didn’t deserve her. And James’s feelings for her were as strong as ever. She only had to crook her finger and he would come running.

She was talking to him now. That low, gentle voice that he loved.

‘I think you’ve got a rather romanticized view of things,’ she said quietly. ‘And it wasn’t quite the same for me as it is for Caroline. For a start, I didn’t give birth to three children in quick succession. Patrick’s not actually mine, remember. He was nearly at school by the time I married Mickey and had Sophie and Georgina. And I can assure you, there were days when I looked pretty dreadful. It wasn’t easy. Besides, I’m not a career girl like Caroline. I was quite happy to keep house and look after the children. I expect Caroline’s frustrated.’

‘Don’t I know it. She keeps ramming it down my throat.’

‘Then talk to her. Talk to her about the business. See if you can come up with a plan of action between you. She’s probably got some fantastic ideas, but if you don’t give her the opportunity, if you don’t tell her there’s a problem, then she can’t help.’

James tried to look convinced by Lucy’s argument. He knew she was talking sense.

‘Remember the girl you married, James. Caroline had a high-powered job when you met. She was incredibly successful. You’ve got to try and find that person and make her your ally. Not push her away.’

‘She pushes me away.’ James remembered the few times he had endeavoured to reach out to Caroline in bed, and her outright rejection. He could feel her recoil whenever he touched her.

‘All marriages have their rough patches. You’ve just got to decide to make it work, and accept that you can’t necessarily have things as you’d like them. Then try and enjoy what’s good.’

‘Easy to say.’

‘You have to. Look at me and Mickey. Our marriage hasn’t always been a bed of roses. But we got through it. Look at us now.’ She beamed. ‘We’ve had a fantastic weekend, just working on the house, getting ready for the wedding. Teamwork. That’s what it’s about.’

For James, time stood still. He stared at Lucy, standing with her back to the sink, in her jeans and an old Sloppy Joe sweat-shirt splattered in paint, her hands curled round her mug. Here she was, lecturing him in his own kitchen about how to run his marriage, holding herself up as an example, when she had no idea of the truth. She was totally deluded. Teamwork?

He had one second to decide whether to disabuse her. To tell her that her perfect marriage was a sham. For James hadn’t been fooled by Patrick’s charade for one moment. His brother hadn’t been able to meet his eye at the board meeting, when Patrick had confessed all. You didn’t grow up with someone and not learn to recognize signs of guilt. Kay’s illegitimate brat belonged to Mickey, and he was about to sell off his share of the brewery to pay for it. And Lucy didn’t have a clue.

If James told her the truth, he would be there to pick up the pieces. Just like he had been last time, when she had originally found out about Mickey’s affair with Kay. He remembered making love to her when she’d come to him for comfort, knowing she was vulnerable but unable to resist making his dream come true.

He gazed at her. Even in her scruffiest clothes, she was stunning. She should be his. He had the key.

But it wouldn’t work this time around either, for he knew that he had shown his true colours. In treating Caroline the way he had, Lucy had lost all respect for him. She would never want him now. He had seen the look of disgust in her eyes on more than one occasion. And she had made it clear to him what she thought of him, that Sunday they had all gone round for Mickey’s birthday. By telling her Mickey’s secret, he would only prove that he was not worthy, for he wouldn’t be doing it for the right reasons, but purely selfish ones.

He had a split second to make up his mind. Whether to blow everything apart. Or to put his obsession with Lucy to rest, and find a way to resuscitate his marriage.

He took a deep breath. ‘Do you think it’s too late for me and Caroline?’ he asked her.

‘Of course not,’ said Lucy stoutly. ‘You’ve just got to get your act together. Having kids is hard, James, but I can assure you, it goes all too quickly. Before you know it, they’ve gone. They’re getting married. The house is empty. And it’s shit.’

James swallowed. He could see the glimmer of a tear in her eye.

‘I’m just saying enjoy them,’ she croaked. ‘They’re beautiful. And so is Caroline.’ She stood up. ‘I’ve got to go. I want to put another coat of paint on the front door before lunch.’

She put her cup in the sink and walked over to the door. She was so perfect. So fucking unbelievably perfect. She should have been his. But she wasn’t.

‘Thanks, Lucy,’ he managed, raising a weary hand in farewell. And when she’d gone, he put his head in his arms.

A moment later, Henry came tearing in, skidding across the floor.

‘Dad, we’re bored. And Percy’s puked. Can we go somewhere? ’

James’s initial reaction was to refuse, to snarl at Henry to bugger off and leave him alone. But something in what Lucy had said sank in. Maybe he should try taking her advice.

‘Oh dear, poor old Percy. Let’s get a cloth, shall we?’ he said cheerfully, standing up. ‘And where would you like to go?’

‘Birdland!’ yelled Henry.

Great, thought James. Penguins, peacocks, pelicans. Fucking marvellous.

‘What a good idea.’

 

While Lucy went to see James, Mickey swept the whole of the stableyard until it was clean enough to eat his lunch off. He stopped for a breather, leaning over the stable door, staring at Pudding. He could feel his chest tighten, and a sharp pain under his ribs. It was difficult to breathe. He hoped he wasn’t having a heart attack. Not now. It would ruin the wedding. The sale of the brewery. Kay. Everything. He tried to keep himself calm, but the pain just intensified.

It was the pony that was doing it. Every time he looked at the little creature, he imagined Flora on his back. How the hell could he give him away when his own daughter, his own flesh and blood, would undoubtedly get as much pleasure from him as Sophie and Georgina had? For Flora was as much his as they were.

Mickey knew he couldn’t carry on. He couldn’t deny Flora’s existence any longer. He had to come clean to Lucy. He knew he would never be able to sleep at night if he went ahead with the plan as it was. Even though Kay wasn’t pressing him for recognition, it was the honourable thing to do.

Besides, he owed it to Patrick. He couldn’t let his son start married life with a slur on his reputation that he wasn’t even responsible for. OK, so it hadn’t been made common knowledge, but at the end of the day Mickey realized he had used Patrick shamelessly, taken advantage of his sense of honour. He couldn’t continue the deception. Even if he lost everything, Mickey decided, then at least he would know he had done the decent thing for once in his life.

Pudding lifted up his chin as high as he could and rested it on the stable door, peering over at him in a quizzical fashion. Mickey took another breath in, and the pain in his chest seemed to dissipate. Maybe he’d just overdone the sweeping.

‘Don’t give him his nuts yet. He’ll guzzle them down. I’ll give him a net of hay to be getting on with.’ Lucy was back. She was striding across the yard with a smile. ‘Puds, you’ve had a reprieve. It looks like we’re stuck with you.’

She scratched the pony between the ears and looked at Mickey ruefully.

‘James doesn’t want him. He’s really on his uppers, apparently. Practically bankrupt. Do you think there’s anything we can do to help?’

Poor, sweet, generous, naïve Lucy. She hadn’t a clue that the treacherous Liddiard brothers had already conspired to sell their birthright to get them out of their respective holes. Mickey pushed his hair back out of his eyes. He reeked of sweat from the morning’s work. He’d go and have a bath, get a bottle of wine out of the fridge, sit Lucy down—

No. That was another of his faults. Procrastination.

‘Lucy. I’ve got something to tell you.’

Her face went pale. ‘Don’t tell me Sophie’s not going to make it back.’

She was living for seeing her eldest daughter again.

‘No,’ said Mickey hastily. ‘Nothing like that.’

‘Oh. What, then?’

He could just say that the fridge they were using for drinks wasn’t going to fit into the stable because the extension cable wouldn’t reach.

‘Kay Oakley. She came to see me. A few weeks ago.’

‘I thought the Oakleys had gone to Portugal. Are they back?’ Lucy flicked back the stable bolt and went to get Pudding’s haynet. ‘Why did she want to see you?’

‘She’s got a daughter. A little girl called Flora. She’s . . . she’s . . .’

‘What?’ Lucy paused in the doorway. Pudding nudged her with his nose, reminding her of the task in hand.

‘She’s mine, Lucy. Flora’s mine.’

Lucy said nothing for a moment. She stepped out of the stable and shut the door, still holding the net in her hand.

‘How do you know?’

‘Well . . . Kay told me.’

‘Can she prove it?’ The tone of her voice had altered completely. It was flat, hard.

‘She doesn’t need to prove it. The dates add up. And . . . Lawrence was sterile, apparently.’

‘Was?’

‘He’s dead. He died in a car crash, a few months ago.’

There was a moment as Lucy took in this information. Then she started to laugh. ‘For God’s sake, Mickey. You haven’t fallen for that old trick? Surely you know Kay well enough? She’d say the Pope was the father if she thought she could get something out of it—’

Mickey spoke as gently as he could. ‘I’ve seen the child. I don’t need to do a paternity test.’

Lucy stopped laughing. She took in a deep shuddering breath. ‘You’ve seen her?’

‘She’s beautiful. She’s just like Sophie, but with a bit of—’

The words were knocked out of him as Lucy dropped the haynet and punched him in the stomach with all her might. ‘You bastard!’

Mickey slumped back against the wall, winded, gasping for air. Lucy stepped forward again, her fists still clenched, and he cowered, appalled by the extent of her rage.

‘You complete and utter shit. You knew I wanted another child. And all along you had your own. How could you do that to me, Mickey?’

‘Hold on. I didn’t know about Flora. Not until—’

‘Don’t waste your breath lying to me.’

‘It’s true. Kay came to me for money. Lawrence left her penniless.’

‘My heart bleeds.’

‘Lucy, we’re talking about a little girl. A little five-year-old girl. I can’t just cut her out of my life. I’ve got to support her.’

He’d told her this much. He had to get it all out.

‘I’m selling my shares in the brewery. And so is James. We . . . think Keith wants out as well.’

Lucy stepped back, brushing her hair out of her eyes. ‘You’re selling the brewery?’

‘Selling our share. It’s probably not as bad as it sounds. We’ve got someone who’s interested in investing. And Patrick will still be on board. We think it’s for the best, getting out now.’ Mickey spoke as fast as he could in an effort to convince her that the decision made sense. ‘The brewery needs heavy investment if it’s going to survive, and we don’t have the resources—’

‘Not if you’re having to pay for illegitimate brats. And houses you can’t afford. No.’

Mickey flinched. Lucy crossed her arms.

‘Well, you’ve obviously all discussed it. Does Ginny know you’re selling? Or Caroline? Or Mandy, for that matter?’

‘We . . . didn’t want to worry any of you. Until things were definite.’

‘How very emancipated of you.’

‘Lucy. Please. I’ve tried to do the right thing. For everyone.’

Mickey had never seen such a terrible expression on Lucy’s face. Disappointment, hurt, betrayal. Loathing. Disgust.