Just a Family Affair (6 page)

 

Ten minutes later, Georgina collared Lucy in the pantry.

‘Mum, what’s the matter with Caroline? She looks really awful and she’s behaving like a spoilt child. And James is being a pig.’

‘She does give him a hard time.’

‘But he doesn’t do anything to help.’

‘James is old-fashioned.’

‘What sort of an excuse is that?’ Georgina looked outraged. ‘You don’t believe that lets him off the hook, surely?’

Actually, Caroline did look dreadful. Overweight, pale, spotty. Bloated. Her hair was lank and dull. Lucy remembered the voluptuous, flame-haired, feisty creature James had fallen in love with: karaoke queen, fearless horsewoman, career girl.

‘She’s got her hands full with the children.’ Lucy tried to reassure Georgie, who hated dissension of any kind. ‘It’ll get easier.’>

It was just a phase. And it would pass soon enough. Lucy remembered desperately trying to dry baby clothes on the Aga, getting up to feed Georgina in the cold of the night, then hoping to snatch some sleep before Sophie woke up at the crack of dawn. She remembered always feeling as if she had left her brain in another room, a permanent state of empty headedness. But before you knew it they were sleeping through, walking and talking, going to school, leaving home . . .

She knew that would be no comfort to Caroline. And Georgie wouldn’t understand either. Dear Georgie. So matter-of-fact and positive. Everything to her was black and white. She had no real clue about what lay ahead of her, the grey areas, the dilemmas, the compromises.

Lucy decided she’d have to talk to James, if it was so obvious even to Georgie that things were badly wrong. Lucy carefully unwrapped the Brie from its waxed paper and prodded it experimentally. Perfect. Runny, but not actually running away. Just how everyone liked it.

 

She managed to corner James half an hour later, just as he was coming out of the loo that led into the back hallway. She blocked his way, arms crossed.

‘James. I’m sorry, I’ve got to say it, but your behaviour towards Caroline is unforgivable. Can’t you see she’s struggling? Give the poor girl a break.’

James stared back at her, his eyes cold.

‘I never wanted three children. Two was enough for me. She’s made her own bloody bed.’

Lucy took in a sharp breath of disbelief. ‘You don’t mean that.’

‘I do. We don’t have the room. I don’t earn enough money. It’s bloody selfish.’

‘You’re not telling me you don’t love Percy.’

James looked irritated. ‘Of course I love Percy,’ he snapped. ‘But I don’t like being cornered. I didn’t get the choice. Percy was a fait accompli. I don’t feel good about resenting him, I can assure you. But the bottom line, Lucy, is we can’t afford three kids. Caroline isn’t going to be back at work for at least another four years at this rate.’

‘Hang on,’ said Lucy. ‘You’re the one who keeps an Aston Martin in the garage.’

‘Why the fuck should I give that up?’ James exploded. ‘I love that car.’

‘James . . .’ Lucy wasn’t quite sure how to get through to him. ‘Being married and having kids is all about compromise. And making sacrifices.’

‘Do you really think you’re fit to preach to me?’ James sneered. ‘If my memory serves me correctly, your marriage doesn’t exactly stand up to scrutiny.’

Lucy voice was low as she answered. ‘If my marriage wasn’t perfect, it’s because you Liddiards have no idea about anyone but yourselves.’

She glared at him as he raised a supercilious eyebrow. How could she ever have thought herself in love with him, even for a moment? She shivered in self-disgust as she remembered their frenzied coupling on the Aubusson rug in his oh-so-tasteful living room, that desperate revenge fuck, the payback for Mickey’s infidelity and feckless behaviour. She’d shut the memory out, as she and Mickey had gone on to mend their marriage, which to her mind had only been slightly damaged, not totally destroyed. She had forgiven him, and he had never known the full truth about her and James.

But now James was taunting her, reminding her that she had been weak. And perhaps he was right. Perhaps she wasn’t fit to preach. But Caroline definitely didn’t deserve the treatment she was getting. When had James become such an out and out sadistic bastard? He’d always been measured and self-contained, but he’d had a more gentle and sensitive side than Mickey, which was why Lucy had once been drawn to him. But that softer side seemed to have vanished into thin air. James was unrecognizably harsh. She tried desperately to see life from his perspective, for Lucy was always fair. OK, so they’d had three children in quick succession, and as James had spent the best part of his life as a rather sybaritic bachelor, pleasing himself in his immaculate house, no doubt the ensuing chaos was rather a shock to his system. But that didn’t mean he had to be cruel . . .

‘Just grow up,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t be like your brother, shirking his responsibilities at every opportunity. Why don’t you break with the Liddiard family tradition and be a man?’

James surveyed her coolly.

‘Perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard,’ he drawled, ‘if the women we attracted didn’t see us as a meal ticket.’

Lucy had never slapped anyone in her life. But she was so incensed by James’s arrogance, his cruelty and, of course, the guilt he’d stirred up inside her, that before she knew it she’d dealt him a stinging blow. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away.

‘Get off me!’ she snarled. His fingers circled her slender wrist and he held her arm tightly as she struggled to get away. ‘I’m warning you, James—’

‘What’s going on?’

The two of them turned to see Caroline staring at them accusingly, swaying at the end of the corridor, her eyes wild and her hair even wilder. James let Lucy’s arm drop.

‘Lucy was just giving me some advice.’

Caroline’s eyes were swollen from lack of sleep, too much drink and the occasional bout of sobbing. They darted beadily from James to Lucy and back again.

‘About what?’

‘I was asking her if she knew anyone in the village who could give us some help in the house. I can’t afford Ginny’s rates, unfortunately. But I think it’s about time you had some help.’

‘Oh.’ Caroline seemed instantly mollified.

‘I know it’s been hard for you since poor Mrs Titcombe’s knees finally gave out,’ James went on robustly, referring to his old housekeeper. Mrs Titcombe had actually given notice because she couldn’t cope with the chaos Caroline left in her wake, but had been tactful enough to blame her dodgy knees.

‘I’ll ask around,’ Lucy added, playing along with this blatant lie, but thankful that a scene had been averted. ‘I’m sure there’ll be someone glad of some extra cash.’

She smiled at Caroline, and was rewarded with a look of pure malevolence. She turned and hurried back to the kitchen, feeling rather sick. Too much food, one too many glasses of champagne, and the guilt of her secret swirled round in the pit of her stomach. She swallowed down the bile, blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill, and steeled herself to go back into the chaos of the kitchen as if nothing had happened. But she couldn’t help wondering how much of their exchange Caroline had witnessed. She didn’t want her as an enemy. Lucy didn’t scare easily but Caroline was a frightening adversary.

Back in the kitchen, Patrick was doing magic for Henry. Utterly appalling magic that anyone over five would have seen through, but as Henry was only four and a half he got away with it. Georgie was walking round the kitchen with Connie balanced on her feet, and Ginny was bouncing Percy up and down on her knee. Kitty and Sasha had arrived, and were bubbling over with excitement at Patrick and Mandy’s announcement.

‘Can we be bridesmaids?’ demanded Sasha. ‘Because we’re almost related. I mean, Mum is practically married to Mandy’s dad. Which makes us almost sisters. And twin bridesmaids - hey, how cool would that be?’

‘For heaven’s sake, Sasha,’ protested Ginny. ‘I don’t suppose Patrick and Mandy have given any thought to bridesmaids yet. And even if they have, I don’t suppose you and Kitty are top of their list. There’s Sophie and Georgina for a start.’

‘No way!’ protested Georgina, who had been a bridesmaid when James and Caroline got married. ‘Sorry, Caroline, no offence. But first and last time. I can’t cope with the responsibility. ’

Caroline had come back into the room and claimed one of the comfy chairs by the Aga.

‘Quite,’ drawled Caroline. ‘Anyway, it would probably be terribly bad luck. Having a bridesmaid who’d already attended at a wedding that was doomed to failure.’

‘I think I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Lucy quickly. ‘I’m sure everyone’s gasping for a cup of tea.’

Mandy turned to Kitty.

‘Actually, Kitty,’ said Mandy, ‘I did want to ask you a favour. Will you do the dress?’

Kitty’s mouth dropped open. Mandy was always in the latest gear. She was always going off to Selfridges in Birmingham and coming back with Juicy Couture and Maharishi. Kitty was at the local college doing fashion design, and although she specialized in catwalk knock-offs for all her friends, she didn’t think Mandy would take her attempts at not-so-haute-couture seriously.

‘Do you mean it?’

‘Yes. I want a one-off. A total original. And you’ve got such great ideas.’

Kitty was overwhelmed. ‘Mandy - I’d love to. But if you change your mind, I understand. I thought you’d go for a real designer.’

Mandy shook her head.

‘Why line their pockets? I want all my friends and family to be as closely involved as possible. And everything else will be local.’

‘Just tell me you’re not going to get that awful Fleur Gibson to do the flowers.’ Sasha, who always said what everyone else was thinking, had got herself a Saturday job at Twig, the florist in Eldenbury, and had lasted precisely half a day before locking horns with the notoriously difficult owner and flouncing out.

Mandy made a face. ‘She is good.’

This was true. Fleur, or to be more precise the nineteen-year-old genius she kept locked in the back room, had a wonderful knack with arrangements.

‘She’s a bloody menace.’ Everyone looked surprised. Lucy never said anything nasty about anyone. ‘She’s not happy unless she thinks every man in the room fancies her. Which, of course, they do.’

‘Actually, I don’t,’ Mickey interjected. ‘She’s my worst nightmare. Clingy, manipulative, dangerous.’

‘She’s always reminded me of Kay Oakley.’ James swirled his wine round in his glass casually as he spoke.

There was an awkward silence.

‘Kay wasn’t that bad,’ said Lucy stoutly. ‘I always quite liked her.’

Which, given it was Kay that Mickey had had an affair with, was pretty loyal. But Lucy knew that James was just stirring, because he hadn’t liked being reprimanded, and she wasn’t having any of it. Bringing up the past when they were all intent on looking to the future was totally out of order.

‘Anyway,’ she said, trying to steer away from the subjects, ‘I think it’s up to Mandy to choose. Where are you having the reception?’

Patrick and Mandy looked at each other.

‘I don’t know,’ Patrick admitted. ‘We only thought of it this morning.’

‘I know it’s traditional to have it at the bride’s home, but our garden at Kiplington isn’t really big enough. Is it, Dad?’ Mandy turned to her father anxiously.

‘Not really,’ said Keith. ‘You’d be very limited on numbers. And parking would be tricky.’

‘I definitely don’t fancy having it in a hotel. It’s not very personal, is it?’ Mandy wrinkled her nose.

‘I can’t think of anything worse,’ said Patrick. ‘Lukewarm Bucks Fizz and ghastly waitresses with big arses.’ He shuddered.

‘Why not have it here, then?’ said Lucy. ‘There’s bags of room.’

‘You honestly wouldn’t mind?’ Mandy’s eyes were shining. ‘All those people traipsing through the house and ruining the grass? Although,’ she added hastily, ‘we are hoping to keep it small. Ish.’

‘Mind?’ said Lucy. ‘I’d be thrilled. I’ll help you organize it. I haven’t got anything else to do.’

Patrick was secretly delighted. Being a bloke, he hadn’t often fantasized about his own wedding, but now he’d given it some thought he couldn’t imagine holding it in some impersonal venue still warm from the previous incumbents, the confetti and cake crumbs hastily swept away in order to make way for the next arrivals. It seemed right to have it here at home. And now he knew the entire proceedings were being left to Lucy and Mandy, he could concentrate on the matter in hand. Getting the brewery back on its feet. He needed to speak to Keith as soon as possible. He was still very subdued, though Patrick was sure he was delighted by their announcement. And now they were officially engaged, Patrick could have a man-to-man chat about how each of them saw the future.

Realizing he’d drifted off, he drew his attention back to the rest of the room. James, Mickey and Keith were half-heartedly passing a bottle of port amongst themselves. Caroline was dozing in the big chair, Percy snuggled up against her having just guzzled his afternoon bottle. Ginny, bless her, was tackling the nasty pans that wouldn’t go in the dishwasher, despite Lucy’s protestations. Lucy was busy making the tea she had promised earlier.

The conversation had moved back to dresses, as it so often did. Patrick was relieved that he had little choice on the sartorial front. He had a morning suit. All he’d need to worry about was a new pair of shoes.

‘Gypsy punk,’ Kitty was saying, leaning back against the Aga, her hands gesticulating as she waxed lyrical on her favourite subject. She had wild curly hair, and was wearing a baby-doll dress over a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, dizzyingly high wedges and striped over-the-knee socks. For a moment, Patrick debated the wisdom of Mandy’s wedding dress being in Kitty’s hands. ‘Or Fifties starlet-harlot. Or flamenco? No. Those are all too . . . urban. We need something pastoral. Hardy meets Larkin. As in H. E. Bates, not Philip. With a bit of Midsummer Night’s Dream thrown in.’