Nadia Knows Best (29 page)

“What?” said Jay. Oh God, and here he was, doing it again.

“Just wondered where you got your shirt,” Nadia lied. The shirt was dark green with a fine red stripe. “It's my dad's birthday soon. He might like something like that.”

“Try again.”

“What?”

“The truth, this time.”

“OK, he probably wouldn't like it. But we're desperate to liven up his wardrobe. If I bought him one like yours, he might feel obliged to wear it a few times, then we'd all compliment him like mad.”

“Come on, you know what I'm talking about,” said Jay, and Nadia's mouth went dry.

Oh, she did, she did.

Then his mobile burst into life.

For a moment they both listened to it ring.

“I hate these things,” sighed Jay.

Taking a gulp of champagne, Nadia thought, don't answer it then.

Less than two minutes later she thought,
shit
.

Jay slid the phone back into his pocket. “That was Belinda's mother. Belinda's having the baby.”

Nadia nodded. Under normal circumstances this would have been good news. But she'd already seen Jay check his watch and heard him say, “I'm setting off now. I'll be there by ten.”

Which was, frankly, not what she wanted to happen. It was completely pain-in-the-bottom news.

Although not so painful in the bottom for her as it would undoubtedly be for Belinda.

Oh well, time to put on a brave face.

“You're going down to Dorset.”

“I promised Belinda I would. She asked me. It means a lot to her,” Jay said evenly. No longer smiling, it was clear that he was reliving his brother's death. The birth of Anthony's child would be an emotional, bittersweet experience.

“Just as well you only had time for one glass.” Nadia indicated the bottle on the table, still two-thirds full. “You should go now. Don't want Belinda having it before you get there. Sometimes they pop out like champagne corks.”

“I'm sorry.” Jay's mouth twitched. “This seems to keep happening, doesn't it? Every time we…” He paused, then shook his head. “Well, never mind. If Anthony was still alive, I'd have something to say to him about his timing.”

Except if Anthony
were
still alive, Jay wouldn't need to be rushing off now, would he?

As he stood up, searching his pockets for his car keys, Nadia was appalled to realize she was actually jealous of Belinda. It had suddenly occurred to her that it wasn't uncommon for women who'd loved one brother to transfer their affections to the other. Advice columns were full of such cases, except most of the women writing in hadn't bothered to wait until the first brother was dead.

Even more appalled by the direction her thoughts were taking, Nadia gave herself a brisk mental shake.

“Will you cut the cord?”

Jay looked squeamish. “Absolutely not. I won't be in the room. Bit too personal,” he said with a shudder. “Belinda just wants me to be there at the hospital. I'll see the baby once it's washed and wrapped up, thanks very much.” Jangling his keys, he added, “Better make a move. I'll drop you home.”

It was only eight o'clock, still warm and sunny outside. Nadia shook her head; it would be an easy walk back across the Downs.

“No need, I'll be fine.”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.” She did her best to breathe normally as Jay dropped a fleeting goodbye kiss on her cheek. “Good luck.”

He pulled out his sunglasses. “I'm going to be an uncle.”

“You'll have to set a good example,” said Nadia. “Think only pure thoughts, do only good things.”

“How dare you?” Jay's dark eyelashes cast shadows on his razor-sharp cheekbones as he smiled briefly down at her. “You know perfectly well I've never had a pure thought in my life.”

Nadia watched him go with regret. Another chance blown. Honestly, these selfish sisters-in-law who just
launch
into labor whenever it suits them, popping out babies and wreaking havoc on completely innocent people's lives.

***

Nadia was queuing up for popcorn in the cinema foyer when someone pinched her bottom. Whirling round, she said, “Bernie!”

Bernie Blatt, clearly recovering nicely from the recent traumatic breakup with his fiancée, grinned at her, then at the dustbin-sized cardboard bucket of popcorn the assistant was waiting to hand over to Nadia.

“Feeding the five thousand?” Peering about him, Bernie said, “Who are you here with, the bastard or the boss?”

“No one. Just me.” Nadia enjoyed coming to the cinema on her own. Which was just as well, seeing as no one she knew shared her taste in films. Laurie, whose all-time favorites were
Star
Wars
,
Spider-Man
, and
Dumb
and
Dumber
, had groaned when she'd arrived home from the property auction and started studying the listings in the
Evening
Post
.

“Oh God, she's off again, more arty-farty bollocks with bad subtitles. Nad, don't do it. Why don't we go bowling instead?”

“No. There's a film I really want to see and it's only on for two nights.”

Laurie winked at Clare. “Wonder why.”

“You can both come along if you want to,” Nadia had offered, safe in the knowledge that they wouldn't.

“Hmm, let me see. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to watch a crap film where nothing happens and it never stops raining. In a foreign language, so I can't understand what's going on. Color?” said Laurie. “Or black and white?”

“Black and white.”

“Thought so. Making it in color would have been far too lifelike. Phew, what an offer. I'll have to give this some serious thought. Clare?”

Clare said, “I'd rather eat a raw toad.”

Laurie grinned and said, “So that's raw toad for two.”

“You can't watch a film on your own,” Bernie said now. He looked shocked.

“I can. I like it. You get to eat all the popcorn yourself. Anyway,” said Nadia, checking the huge clock up on the wall, “film's about to start.” She didn't want to miss anything, not even the ads.

“What are you seeing?”

Nadia pointed to the poster behind him. “The new Roberto Benigni.”

“You're kidding!” Bernie's face lit up. “Me too!”

This was startling news. Nadia would have had him down as a
Dumb
and
Dumber
man if ever there was one. Poleaxed, she said, “Really?”

“I'm mad about Benigni. He's a genius.” Bernie shook his head in admiration, then whipped out his wallet. “Wait here while I pick up my ticket. We can watch it together. That is, if you want to.”

“Fine, as long as you buy your own popcorn.” Nadia hugged her bucket possessively to her chest. “Because you're not having any of mine.”

***

They emerged from the cinema two hours later, picked up a pizza, and went back to Bernie's flat in Clifton. It was a hot night. They sat on the stone steps leading down to the garden, divided up the pizza, and washed it down with lager from Bernie's fridge.

“That's the brilliant thing about popcorn,” said Nadia. “You can eat masses, but it never fills you up. That was a fantastic film, wasn't it? I really hope he gets another Oscar. I've got
Life
Is
Beautiful
at home on video and I still cry buckets every time I watch it.”

Bernie chucked a curve of pizza crust, boomerang-style, into the yew hedge separating his garden from his neighbor's. Black and white foreign films with subtitles and no discernible plotline weren't his thing at all. His favorite actor was Arnold Schwarzenegger. You knew where you were with a chap like that. Still, no need to wreck Nadia's illusions now.

“Me too.” Swiftly, before she could start rattling on about the funny-looking Italian bloke all over again, he said, “So how's it going with you and Laurie?”

Nadia peeled off an anchovy and fed it to Bernie's cat, Titus, who was purring and weaving around her legs. Titus promptly spat it out in disgust. “OK. I'm just not rushing into anything. Laurie buggered off to the States for over a year. Now it's my turn to keep him waiting.”

“And the other one? The bloke you're working for?”

Nadia briefly wondered what kind of films Jay liked to watch. “He can wait too. God, your cat's fussy,” she complained as Titus sniffed at a mussel before declining it and stalking off.

“So are you,” Bernie pointed out. “Know what I think? I think you should chuck 'em both. They aren't the only men on the planet, you know.” Clearing his throat, he mumbled, “I've always liked you.”

Nadia spluttered with laughter. Then she began to cough, which was the wrong thing to do. Having thumped her on the back several times, Bernie somehow managed to leave one arm draped round her shoulders while the other one slid round her waist.

“I'm serious,” said Bernie. “You could do a lot worse.”

Oh dear, time to go. Extricating herself from his octopus arms, Nadia said, “Bernie, thanks. I'm very flattered, but we both know you're only saying this because you just broke up with Paula.”

“But I'm
not
.”

“Yes you are.” Breaking into a grin, she stood up before he could try to kiss her—there was a tell-tale pucker around his mouth that indicated this was on the cards. “Bernie, we're friends. Let's not spoil it. And it's late”—she checked her watch—“I really have to go.”

Bernie gave up with good grace. “Oh well, it was worth a try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Giving it one last shot, he raised his eyebrows and said hopefully, “I'm quite a catch, you know. Sure you don't want to change your mind?”

Solemnly Nadia said, “Quite sure, thanks.” She hesitated on the doorstep. “One last thing. That film we saw. Did you really enjoy it?”

Bernie smiled. “You're joking, aren't you? I hated every single bloody boring black and white minute.”

“Oh well,” said Nadia cheerfully, “in that case, serves you right.”

Tilly was in bed trying to work through her muddled train of thoughts. The train didn't seem to know where it was going; she'd never been more confused in her life.

It was eleven o'clock in the morning. Outside her bedroom window the sun blazed down; it was another glorious day. Everyone else had gone out, giving her the peace and quiet she needed to think things through. Turning onto her side, she reached for Colman, her beloved battered teddy. Colman, who had faded yellowish fur, lopsided eyes, and a floppy left leg that really needed sewing back on, was no looker. Years of being cuddled had left him bald in places. Leonie had given Colman to Tilly on her fifth birthday.

Leonie.
Mum
.

OK, thought Tilly, here we go again.

She was completely and utterly torn. She may love her mother, but she didn't want to live with her. This was her home. She was happy here, happy with her school and her friends—especially Cal—and her family.

But was her family happy with her? For a start, they weren't even really her family. James and Miriam may have brought her up, but she wasn't related to them. And while she knew she loved them, what if they didn't love her quite as much as she'd always imagined? What if they were secretly hoping she
would
go and live with her mother?

How did she know they weren't secretly thinking, God, we've done our stint, it's about time Leonie took her turn?

Tilly blinked back tears. Of course, they hadn't said as much. They never would. But they had their own lives to lead. James had Annie now, and they were so happy together. As for Miriam, surely she'd done more than her share over the years. Bringing up two grandchildren must have been hard enough. And then to find herself saddled with yet another child… poor Miriam must have wondered what she'd done to deserve this much punishment.

Imagining it, hot tears dripped down Tilly's cheeks into Colman's threadbare fur. When she'd told her family about Leonie's plan, she had expected them to react with horror and dismay. She'd waited for Miriam to announce in her customary forthright manner, “What absolute nonsense! Darling, of
course
you're not moving to Brighton, you're staying here with us where you belong. Right, pass me the phone, we'll soon sort this out.”

But it hadn't happened like that. Taking the news calmly—a bit
too
calmly for Tilly's liking—Miriam had stressed that it was her decision and hers alone. If she wanted to live with Leonie, then that was absolutely fine. Not that they wanted to lose her, Miriam had hastily added, because of course they'd all miss her dreadfully, but at the same time Leonie was her mother. They would understand.

And that had been that. Hugging her, James had said much the same thing. So had Nadia and Clare, which had come as the biggest shock of all.

Tilly rubbed her eyes. Well, there wasn't really any dilemma, was there? Basically, she didn't have a lot of choice. Everyone might be telling her she did, but it wasn't actually true.

Like it or not, she was going to have to move to Brighton and live with Leonie, Brian, and Tamsin. New school, new town, new people. It was nice that her mother wanted her, of course. But if she was being honest, she found Tamsin a bit scary.

Oh well, so much for making her mind up. Pushing back the duvet, Tilly stumbled out of bed. She was seeing Cal this afternoon. At least she knew he didn't want her to move away.

Downstairs, Harpo greeted her with a squawk and a friendly flap of his electric-blue wings. Feeding him a corner of toast, Tilly said, “I'm even going to miss you, Harpo,” and felt her throat close up.

“I'll have a gin and tonic,” Harpo cackled. “Make it a double.”

“Bit early in the morning.” Tilly didn't even know why she'd bothered making toast, she wasn't the least bit hungry.

“That was the news. And now the weather,” squawked Harpo, who watched far too much television.

Tilly wasn't meeting Cal until two thirty. She still had a couple of hours to kill. Tomorrow, Leonie was driving up to talk to Miriam and James about the move before taking Tilly back with her for a few days. Since she and Cal were going to the cinema tonight, it would make sense to get her things together now.

Upstairs Tilly crammed jeans, trainers, Rollerblades, and various tops and bits of underwear into her sports bag. If you didn't fold stuff, packing didn't take long at all. Having closed the bag with difficulty, Tilly promptly opened it again, stuffed in a nightie and a swimsuit and set to wrestling with the zip again.

Her nightie proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

“Oh bum.” Leaning back on her heels, Tilly gazed in dismay at the broken zip.

***

The loft was a bit of a memory lane. Thankful that there were no Indiana Jones-style cobwebs, Tilly eased her way past her own cot, dismantled now and propped against the water tank. James had always been the one who could never bear to throw anything away. He'd lugged her old tricycle up here, and the musical mobile that had hung in her bedroom for years. There was even a box containing spare rolls of wallpaper that Tilly only dimly remembered seeing on walls.

Squeezing between piled-up crates of gramophone records and old books—honestly, had James never heard of Oxfam?—she spotted Miriam's cases over in the far corner. Not the huge trunk, she wasn't going on a world cruise. Or the green Samsonite thing; far too posh and bulky.

Tilly strained to see past the Samsonite. There, that one would do. Miriam wouldn't mind. Reaching for the smaller squashy tan leather case, she hauled it over the others then straightened up and made her way back toward the trapdoor.

Back in her own room, Tilly unzipped the case and saw what had been rattling around inside as she'd made her way down the stepladder.

This time all her things fitted easily into the case and the zip fastened without protest.

But how strange. Why on earth would Miriam have left a DVD in there? Surely it couldn't be one of those rude ones?

Of course it couldn't. Turning the DVD over in her hands, Tilly was ashamed of herself for even thinking such a thing. Good grief, Miriam would never have anything to do with mucky videos. Her all-time favorite film was
Casablanca
.

In fact, this probably was a copy of
Casablanca
.

***

Except it wasn't.

Idle curiosity had got the better of Tilly and now she was wishing she'd never gone up into the loft in the first place.

She almost wished it
had
turned out to be a pornographic film.

Even a pornographic film would have been better than this.

Until she felt the drops soaking through the knees of her jeans, Tilly hadn't realized she was crying again. Rocking backward and forward with her arms wrapped tightly round her ribs, she watched the flickering black and white images on the screen and wondered if she was going completely mad.

How could she be seeing what she was seeing on this video? It was just bizarre, as impossible as going to the cinema to watch the latest Harry Potter movie and suddenly seeing yourself up there on the screen, acting in a film you knew you hadn't appeared in.

Tilly knew what Robert Kinsella looked like. He had been Miriam's husband and James's father. There were photographs of him dotted around the house. This was why it made no sense, no sense at all.

Because the man she was watching on the video certainly wasn't Robert Kinsella.

***

Jay phoned Nadia the following morning.

“Hi,” she said happily. “How are you?”

“Shattered. It's hard work, you know, this giving birth business.”

“You poor thing, I hope you had loads of painkillers.”

“Gas and air. Pethidine. I passed on the epidural.”

“Well done you. And?”

“A boy. Eight pounds, six ounces, fit and healthy, blue eyes, dark hair.” Jay paused. “And absolutely huge balls.”

Nadia laughed. She couldn't help it, he sounded so perplexed.

“He'll grow into them. What's his name?”

“Daniel Anthony. He was born at eleven o'clock. I've been phoning all the relatives.”

“I'm glad he's OK. How's Belinda?”

“Emotional. Happy. She swears he's the image of Anthony, but you know what newborn babies are like. They all just look red and squashed to me.”

Nadia said helpfully, “That's because you're a man.”

“So I've been told. Anyway, I may be home this evening. If you're free, do you fancy dinner?”

“Could do.” Nadia flushed with pleasure.

“Look, I don't know what time I'll be back, so I'll give you a ring,” said Jay. “You got home all right yesterday, did you?”

“Absolutely fine. No trouble at all. Actually, I went to the cinema.”

“See anything good?”

“The new Roberto Benigni film.”

“Who's he?” said Jay.

Nadia smiled to herself. Oh well, you couldn't win them all.