Skeletons (21 page)

She had travelled home from her father’s in a trance. She could hardly take in what she had heard. Could barely understand what was happening to all the safe certainties she had always relied on. The idea of her mum taking Rory to court – to
prevent him from ever seeing her – was almost incomprehensible. Her mother had always known that Jen had been devastated by her father’s apparent lack of interest in her.

She hadn’t intended to tell Jason what she’d learned, because that would involve telling him where she’d been, and she wasn’t sure he’d understand why she couldn’t have communicated her plans to him in advance.
Then she would end up saying something like ‘Because if I’d told you, you’d have told me not to go’ and they would have found themselves in another fight. But by the time he got home from work, she was so wound up, so desperate to confide in
somebody
, that
she could hardly wait until he’d taken off his jacket. If he hadn’t arrived then, she might well have gone next door, introduced herself to the neighbours she had never even spoken to, had studiously avoided for years, and told them the whole sorry story.

She couldn’t decide if she felt better or worse for knowing. It was too late to forge the bond with Rory that she’d been longing for all her life. There was a comfort in
discovering that he
had always thought about her, but she couldn’t shake off the overwhelming feelings of regret and resentment that that knowledge had been kept from her when she had needed it the most. The awful, nagging feeling that it was too late – there was no rewriting history, however much you
might long to.

Eventually, frustration brought tears to her eyes. She rarely cried. She hated herself when she did. And now, these days, it seemed like she couldn’t stop. Her life felt out of control. She had no idea which way was up any more; so many of
the stable pillars holding her upright had been knocked down.

Even if she had decided to make a promise to herself to keep her visit a secret, Jason would probably have got it out of her somehow, because the first thing he said when he walked into the kitchen was …

‘God, are you OK? You look awful.’

Jen tried to make a joke of it. ‘Thanks. You don’t look so hot yourself.’

‘What’s up?’

And then it all came out.

‘Jesus,’ he said, when she’d finished the whole story.

‘Part of me wishes I didn’t know, really, but it’s made me realize it wasn’t all one-sided. It wasn’t that my father was a villain and my mother was a pitiable victim. They both have things to answer for.’

‘Elaine must have had her reasons.’

‘I’m sure she thought she did. But she lied to me. She made me believe he didn’t care, when he did, all along.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Jason snapped. ‘You really think he cared?’

‘He said he really tried – cleaned up his act, tried to show he was reliable.’

‘You only have his word for that part.’

‘Why would he lie?’

‘I don’t know. Because he’s old and he’s realized he needs to get some sympathy quick, so someone’ll look after him in his dotage. Because he’s hoping you’ll take pity on him and give him some beer money.
You didn’t, did you?’

‘No,’ she lied. ‘Of course not. He didn’t ask. I don’t understand why you won’t give him the benefit of the doubt.’

‘If someone had told me I couldn’t see Simone and Emily when they were little, I wouldn’t have relied on the Royal Mail to ensure I had a good relationship with my kids.’

He rooted around in the box that Jen had finally brought inside, after steaming out to the car to get it. Exhibit A for the defence. He picked up one of the gifts with a flourish. ‘I wouldn’t have thought a pair of … sparkly
balls on springs … would make up for the fact that I never saw my daughter. I’d have been outside the house every day, making sure I saw her whether I was allowed, or not.’

‘Well, lucky for us that you’re so perfect,’ Jen spat back.

‘You’re going to forgive him now, after thirty-odd years of hating him? What, he’s going to start turning up for Christmas dinner and taking the girls on outings?’

‘Don’t be stupid. He’s an old man. What would it hurt, if I visited him sometimes?’

‘Fine. Just don’t bring him here. I don’t want anything to do with him.’

‘Jason, he’s
my
father. Surely, if I want to renew my relationship with him, then you should be happy to go along with that?’

‘I have listened to you talk about how he let you down, how unhappy he made you, for twenty-two years now, I can’t just –’

‘Exactly. Because that’s what I believed, but it turns out I was wrong. Surely I owe it to him to at least get to know what he’s really like?’

‘You’re really telling me he couldn’t find a way to be a father to you, somehow? That Elaine just said “keep away” and he said “OK, then”, and that’s
all right
?’

‘No … what was he meant to do?’

‘You have to earn the right to be called a father, Jen.’

‘Like Charles?’ she said, sailing dangerously close to the wind.

‘Yes, like Dad. You have to be there and involve yourself and be a role model –’

‘You don’t think Charles has ever fucked up?’

‘I’m sure he has. But the difference is that he always put family first. He took his role as a father seriously.’

‘He certainly did.’

‘There’s no point talking to you, if you’re just going to be sarcastic. Honestly, I have no fucking idea what is up with you these days,’ Jason said and then turned and left the room.

She heard him storming up the stairs.

Jen sat at the kitchen table. She couldn’t be bothered to start on dinner. They could call out for a takeaway,
who cared? She didn’t know why they couldn’t seem to have a conversation
these days without it turning into, if not quite a fight, then an argument. An exercise in points-scoring. They had gone from being people who probably fought too seldom to be healthy, to people who fought at the drop of a hat. They seemed to have lost the middle ground completely. The safe
place where they could meet and be each other’s unconditional supporters club.

She had had no intention of bringing Charles into the conversation, of course. She certainly wasn’t ever in any danger of giving away what she knew, but she hated the way Jason still looked on him as some kind of hero. She had wanted to
topple his halo, snap it in half and stamp it into the ground. She had just wanted Jason to acknowledge that his father wasn’t the greatest in the world, and hers the worst.

The one person she knew would understand was Cass. She almost picked up the phone to call her, thought about it for a split second, and then came to her senses. She hadn’t had any communication with her since Cass had declared her desire to
get to know her siblings. There had been countless calls since they had last spoken, and Jen had simply ignored them. There had been no more messages after the first couple of days, but Cass’s number was sitting there, resentfully, in her phone’s history. A constant reminder of
the threat.

Meanwhile, down on the south coast, Cass was sleeping soundly. She had decided what she was going to do next.

Work on Monday felt like a respite. Time at the hotel was uncomplicated. It could be boring, tedious, repetitive, soul-destroying, but it was definitely uncomplicated.

She tried to tell herself that she was glad to be back, because her job gave her a certain satisfaction, and not just because Sean Hoskins was due to have checked back in yesterday.

She had remembered this while she was sitting on the bus, gawping mindlessly out of the window, trying to wake up slowly. She had smiled at the recollection. Having someone to share a few friendly chats with would make the week pass more quickly
– although, in turn, that would make next weekend come round sooner, and she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. She had no desire now to spend time with either her in-laws or her own mother. She hadn’t spoke to Elaine since her trip to see her. She couldn’t face it.
Couldn’t think of what she might say that wouldn’t feel like an accusation. Couldn’t imagine how she would ever trust her mother again.

And then, next week … well, she couldn’t even think about next week at the moment, or she’d slit her wrists.

Early mornings at the hotel were always quiet, even in the height of the summer holidays. Jen liked the luxury of having the time to check through future bookings, to make sure any special requests were catered for. Once
Neil had arrived, and they had exchanged a polite couple of words about their weekends, she was glad when he drifted off into one of his silences.

The lift pinged to announce it had reached its destination, and Sean stepped out, pushing a hand through his swept-back hair, and waving a greeting as he saw them.

‘Morning. How’s things?’

Jen and Neil both smiled their hellos.

‘Do you need help with anything?’ Neil asked, already waving to attract the attention of one of the doormen, who might be needed to flag down a cab.

‘No. Thank you. All my stock has already been delivered to the venue. I just have to go down and move it around a bit before we open. And the walk’ll do me good.’

‘Where is it again?’ Jen felt like she didn’t want him to rush off, she wanted to keep him there for a bit, re-establish the easy way they’d had of teasing each other the last time he was down.

‘Regent’s Park. Have you not seen them building the marquees for it? The London Antique and Vintage Fair?’

‘It’s in a tent?’ Jen raised her eyebrows in mock shock.

Sean laughed.

‘No,’ Neil said. ‘A marquee.’

‘If either of you want to come down, I can give you passes. I wouldn’t want you paying the admission fee, it’s extortionate.’

‘It sounds just like being at Glastonbury again – only with people trying to sell you vases, instead of Ecstasy.’

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Or, in my case, a bit of costume jewellery from the fifties.’

‘Sadly,’ Jen said, ‘I don’t think my budget runs to antiques.’

‘Well, you’d both be very welcome, if you have an hour to kill.’

‘There’s a taxi here, if you’d like it,’ Dan the doorman called over.

Sean started to move towards the door.

‘Do you need any restaurants booking or anything?’ Jen asked as he walked away.

She felt like she wanted an excuse for him to have to talk to her later. She didn’t know why. Just a diversion, really, she told herself. A reason to think about anything other than home. She could feel that she was trying too hard, acting
a little too desperate for him to think she was fun and sparkly and witty. She told herself to get a grip.

Sean laughed. ‘Yes, if I want to humiliate myself this evening I’ll let you know.’

‘Ha ha.’

Once, years ago, she had accidentally booked the wrong restaurant, and Sean had turned up at Tamarind instead of Benares to meet some associates for a Michelin-standard curry, only to find there was no table available. He would have been within
his rights to be furious, embarrassed in front of his acquaintances, but he had chosen to take it graciously. He had never let her forget it, though.

In the afternoon, she hung around after her shift had finished, pretending she had work to do. She had hoped Sean might pop back during the day, or that he might come home early, and they could have another little flirty chat before she finished
her shift. It wasn’t that she was interested in Sean – or that she thought he was interested
in her – she told herself. It was just that the thought of home and spending a long evening tiptoeing around safe subjects with Jason was
exhausting.

She felt completely on her own. Cut off from all her support systems. Her head hurt with the responsibility of being the keeper of all the secrets. It was like a sick joke; find the person least comfortable with keeping things to herself, and
tell her
everything
.

In the end, she gave up and started on the long journey home.

She was being ridiculous.

She was walking along the road from the bus stop, past the shops, concentrating on avoiding the puddles, when she became aware of a woman sitting on the wall of their next-door neighbour but one’s house. Something was familiar – a
manicured hand pushing back long brown hair, a black pea coat.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she demanded as she drew close to Cass.

‘Waiting for you.’ Cass smiled, as if nothing was amiss, as if it was perfectly normal for her to have travelled up from Brighton to sit on a wall yards from Jen and Jason’s house in the drizzle.

‘You never answer my calls any more, so this seemed like the best way to get to talk to you.’

‘Are you psychotic? What if Jason sees you? He could get back from work any minute.’

‘He’ll have no idea who I am. As you well know. And anyway, he’s home already. I checked.’

Jen felt her heart stop. ‘You checked?’

Cass laughed. A laugh that made Jen want to slap her.

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t ring the doorbell. I mean, I saw him through the window. From the other side of the road.’

‘What do you want, Cass?’

‘I told you, to talk to you.’

‘I mean, what do you want here? Now? You’re not expecting me to take you home and introduce you? When he still doesn’t know you even exist? I don’t think that’s the way to give your relationship the best
chance.’

‘Stop being so melodramatic. I just wanted to say hello. See where my brother lives.’ She peered along the road. ‘I thought your house would be bigger, somehow.’

‘Well, much as I’d value your professional opinion, it’ll have to wait for another day.’

‘This isn’t fair, you know, Jen.’

Jen sighed. ‘It’s not that I don’t feel for you. I understand. I do. But you have to let me tell him in my own time. At the moment, honestly, I can’t imagine when that might be. It’s Charles and Amelia’s
anniversary coming up –’

‘And after that, there’ll be something else. I’m trying to do it the right way but I don’t know how long I can wait, in all honesty.’

Jen knew what Cass was saying, knew what message she was hoping to get across by being here, outside their home: I could just turn up any time out of the blue and knock on your door and introduce myself. If you don’t tell him, then I
will.

She could feel her heart beating in her ears. Her palms sweating. Panic.

‘I have to go in.’

‘It’s not going to go away. I’m their sister, and that’s it. Nothing can change that.’

‘Please, Cass.
Please
 …’

Cass stood up. ‘It’s OK, I’m leaving. I’m not threatening you. I just … you never return my calls, so how else am I supposed to find out what’s going on?’

Jen watched as she moved away along the road. Waited until she saw her flag down a taxi. She had no idea what to do.

Jason was watching the news in the living room when she let herself in.

‘That you?’ he called out as she shut the front door.

‘I’m late, I’m going to get on with cooking.’

She went straight through to the kitchen, dropped her bag on to a chair, took off her coat and sat down at the little table. She was finding it hard to breathe. There was no doubt in her mind that Cass’s visit had been a statement of
intent. She knew the truth was going to have to come out at some point, but she couldn’t face it. Didn’t feel strong enough to deal with the questions and the accusations and the hurt.

Did Cass really think that Jason, Poppy and Jessie wouldn’t go straight to their father to get the truth verified? That it wouldn’t become inevitable that their relationships with him would never be the same again? That Amelia
wouldn’t have to find out, eventually? That the whole family wouldn’t crash and burn around her?

Cass was naive, that was the thing. She was young, she hadn’t properly thought through the consequences. And
she might just be headstrong enough to detonate the bomb herself, if she thought Jen
wasn’t taking her seriously enough.

Jen tried to imagine the conversation with Jason, the collateral damage that would follow. She couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not now.

‘Are you OK?’ Jason was standing in the doorway, looking concerned.

Jen jumped to her feet, forced a smile on to her face. ‘Long day.’

‘Want me to cook?’

‘No. Thanks.’

‘Jessie called. I said you’d phone her back.’

‘Oh. Right. Maybe a bit later. I want to get started.’

Another one to add to the ‘Avoid’ list. Jessie didn’t have Poppy’s witchy senses – she had nowhere near enough empathy with other people to ever really worry about what they were thinking – but her favourite topic of
conversation, after herself, was the rest of the family and Jen was in no mood to indulge her.

Jason was hovering in the doorway. ‘You sure you’re all right?’

She forced herself to sound positive. ‘Yes.’

‘OK,’ he said, and moved back towards the living room.

Jen breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t feel able to stand up to his scrutiny, she was still shaking from her encounter with Cass.

They ate with the TV on, not talking. Jen couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t verge on dangerous territory.

‘I think I’m going to have an early night,’ she said, as
soon as the clock hit an hour Jason wouldn’t question. ‘I’m knackered.’

‘OK. I’ll come up in a bit. Night, love.’

‘Night,’ Jen said sadly, scared to go over and give him a kiss in case she tripped and fell into the ever-widening gulf that had sprung open between them.

It had occurred to her that she might be tying herself up in knots to save her relationship, when there seemed to be less and less of a relationship to preserve every day. That she might be fighting a losing battle. Flogging a dead horse. What
did that say about their marriage, that it could start to crumble so easily?

She tried to remember what they had had in common, when they first met – before the kids, before she had even met his family. They had shared a sense of humour, a few interests. They had wanted the same things. Was that it?

She still had faith, deep down, that they could get through this somehow, though. That they could emerge, if not unscathed, then intact. That, somehow, she could keep her family together. She had to. Because if the Mastersons fell apart, then
what would she have, what would be left? Who would she be?