Stockings and Cellulite (24 page)

Outside it was gloriously hot. The sun’s rays filtered through the open windows as I beavered away in a pair of denim shorts and a tatty old T-shirt. With every stroke of the roller a sensation of peace stole over my soul. Life could be manic, but right now I was calm and in control.

At almost midnight I washed out the roller and paint tray. I was just folding up dustsheets when the doorbell shrilled into life. Given the late hour, I cautiously peered through the front door’s spy hole. Seeing Ben on the other side of the portal did nothing to calm my nerves.

‘Have you come to read the Riot Act?’ I asked warily, inching the door open.

‘Not at all,’ he gave a wan smile. ‘Sorry to visit so late but I saw the lights were still on.’

‘Where’s Nell?’ I peered over his shoulder.

‘In bed. She’s whacked. Not just from the pregnancy but from carrying the burden by herself. Can I come in?’

‘Yes of course, sorry.’ I ushered Ben into the kitchen. ‘Apologies for the paint pong.’ I sat down heavily on a chair opposite him. ‘Where have you both been these last few days?’

‘Away, just the two of us. We left Dylan with my mother-in-law and went off to do some frank talking. Mull things over without interruptions.’

‘I see.’

‘I want you to know Cass that I’m very grateful you tried persuading Nell to talk to me. She was wrong to keep everything a secret. Inadvertently discovering the truth was the best thing that could have happened.’ Ben steepled his fingers thoughtfully for a moment. ‘There’s no way I would have wanted my wife taking herself off to some backstreet abortionist, frightened and alone, bearing the burden single-handedly.’

I exhaled shakily. ‘Oh, thank God. I knew everything would be all right if Nell talked to you.’ I gave him a wobbly grin. ‘So how are you feeling about being a father again?’

There was a pause.

‘I’m not going to be a father again.’ Ben’s eyes bored into mine. ‘Nell will indeed be having a termination. But we’ll face it together. I’ll support her all the way through and at no point will she be on her own.’

‘No Ben, please don’t-’

‘Cass, stop right there. No, listen to me,’ he cut across my protests. ‘It’s important Nell goes into this operation in the right frame of mind. Currently she’s calm and focused and I don’t want anything knocking her off balance. Do you understand?’

‘What are you saying?’ I whispered.

‘I’m saying,’ he rubbed his eyes wearily, ‘that I want you to leave Nell alone for the time being. Don’t be offended by this request Cass – please. She can’t be distracted. Nell will come to you when she’s ready.’

I awoke the following morning at dawn, my sleep interrupted after nightmares of aborted foetuses swimming about in goldfish bowls. How could Ben be so detached? This was his
child
he was terminating. For all Ben’s assurances about being there for Nell and undertaking the procedure together, at the end of the day it was just his wife who would suffer the invasion of a surgical instrument removing life in one scrape. Just his wife left to pick up the pieces of hormonal havoc and wrestle with a ton of guilt.

I flung back the covers and slipped into my discarded old shorts and T-shirt. Padding barefoot down to the kitchen I found the coffee jar. Waiting for the kettle to boil, I levered open a tin of shiny gloss paint.

By lunchtime my eyes were sore and gritty but the reward was shining skirting boards and gleaming doors. The open windows permitted another fragrant summer’s day to creep into the house, diluting the stench of gloss.

Stomach rumbling violently, I headed back to the kitchen leaving decorating paraphernalia strewn over a dust sheet. As I ripped open a packet of ham I was aware of a car engine. Slapping some butter on a rather stale slice of bread I heard the car purr to a halt outside. I paused, mid-spread, as a door slammed. Did I have a visitor? The doorbell burst into life.

Abandoning the buttery knife, I hastened through the hallway and found Jamie standing on the doorstep.

‘Hi!’ he greeted me with a dazzling smile. He looked utterly divine. ‘I popped by to see if the twins wanted a lift to the stables. Petra and Jonas have been asking after them.’

Oh. So he hadn’t actually come to see me. I mentally slapped myself. Stop it Cass, the guy is way out of your league.

‘That’s really kind of you Jamie, but Liv and Toby are with their Dad at the moment. They’ll be very disappointed to know they’ve missed out on a pony ride. The pair of them are potty about horses at the moment.’

‘Never mind. Tell you what, why don’t I take you to the stables instead? We could say hi to Matt. And I know for a fact your chum is there.’

‘Morag?’

‘The very one and same.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ I gabbled. ‘I mean it would be wonderful to see Morag. And Matt of course.’ Steady Cass, don’t get all skittish.

When Matt opened the front door he looked distinctly bleary eyed, his clothes and hair thoroughly rumpled.

‘Thank God,’ he gasped. ‘The Emergency Services finally responded to my frantic call. May Day! May Day! Bring in a stretcher,’ he moaned in mock despair, staggering about and clutching his groin. ‘Morag’s a lovely girl Cass but she’s exhausting me. Come in quick before she wrestles me to the floor demanding to have her wicked way all over the Wilton.’

I giggled and followed Jamie in.

Morag was in the kitchen and clearly dying to show off her ability to entertain, even if it was in somebody else’s house. She set about producing hunks of fresh granary and an awesome tomato soup that definitely wasn’t Mr Heinz. Her attempt at cosy domesticity was a little spoilt by a T-shirt with
I swallow
emblazoned across her bosom.

For the next couple of hours I bathed in euphoria, revelling in the proximity of Jamie sitting next to me at the kitchen table, the closeness of his toned frame blotting out frets about Nell and last night’s fractured sleep.

Half an hour before the twins were due back, Jamie drove me home but this time Petra and Jonas were in the back.

‘See you Cassie,’ he said softly as the car pulled up outside my house. Tingles wiggled up and down my spine. I
loved
the way he said my name. He didn’t make a move to kiss me. I hesitated a moment, lest he should change his mind. He didn’t. Ah well. He had his children with him of course! Maybe he’d kiss me next time. Next time? Sighing ruefully I hopped out of the car.

‘See you.’

Inside the house I caught sight of myself in the hall mirror and let out a strangled yelp. Lank hair, dark circles under bloodshot eyes, a shiny face and a flourishing spot on a paint-speckled chin.

On the school run the following morning, Toby calmly announced he had discovered the meaning of the word
lesbian
. Swerving violently, I only just managed to avoid flattening a lollipop lady. I glanced at my son in the rear view mirror.

‘Is this playground tittle tattle?’

‘No Mum. George Newman’s mother has left his dad for another woman.’

‘No!’

‘It’s true.’

‘Good heavens. Poor George.’ Frankly I wasn’t altogether surprised. Mrs Newman bore a striking resemblance to Gordon Brown in drag.

‘And George is fretting about classmates finding out. I mean, imagine if his mum turns up at Parents’ Evening or Sports Day with her dyke in tow!’

‘I’m sure his mother will be sensitive to the situation. And don’t use words like
dyke
Toby. It sounds disrespectful.’

‘So? George’s mother wasn’t respectful about her son’s feelings on the matter. And now he has two mothers to contend with.’

‘Yes, I suppose he does. I wonder what he calls the other woman?’

‘I’ve already asked him. It’s
Bitch
.’

‘Right,’ I said faintly. This topic of conversation needed changing.

‘What are you studying at school at the moment?’

‘We did antonyms last week,’ said Livvy. ‘Opposites,’ she explained catching my puzzled expression. ‘For example, the antonym of
high
is
low
and the antonym of
bottom
is–’

‘Willie,’ interrupted Toby grinning.

‘Why do you have to ridicule everything?’ Livvy howled.

‘I am not!’ shouted Toby. ‘My willie
is
opposite my bottom so there.’

‘Enough!’ I bellowed pulling up outside the school gates on yellow zig-zags.

Throughout the week I kept a look out for Nell, but our paths didn’t cross. I didn’t even see Dylan so presumed he was still at his grandmother’s. And then one evening, just as I’d dished up the twins’ dinner, there was a knock on the door. Standing on my doorstep was Nell. We fell into each other’s arms.

‘I’ve been so worried about you,’ I sniffed into her hair. ‘I’m so sorry about the crass way Ben found out. Do you forgive me? Are we still friends?’

‘Yes and yes,’ Nell hugged me tight. ‘I know you had my best interests at heart Cass.’

I led her through to the kitchen. ‘Have you had the op yet?’

‘Not yet,’ she pulled a stool out and sat down.

‘You’re going through with it?’

‘Oh I’m definitely having a termination.’

I bit my tongue, determined not to say anything. Ben’s words were still ringing in my ears.

‘I look at Dylan,’ continued Nell, ‘and realise the child we already have must come first – not a child that isn’t yet in this world. We don’t want Dylan’s life turned upside down by the impact of a new baby, having to move from this house into something smaller. A flat maybe.’

‘Why would you have to move?’

‘To reduce the mortgage. Reduce bills. And that would entail being cramped with less living space and no garden. So you see Cass, I’ve got to go ahead with it.’ Her eyes suddenly brimmed but she kept the tears in check. ‘I’m going in this Friday while Dylan is at school and then I’ll have the weekend to recuperate.’

I nodded sadly. ‘If I can do anything to help. Anything. You know where I am.’

After Nell had left I felt both upset and disturbed. I needed to distract myself.

‘Tobes?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I’m going to start painting your room, you’ll have to sleep on the sofa tonight’

‘Cool Mum!’

It was therapeutic rollering paint over walls. And right now I needed to let my mind drift.

Spreading out large squares of plastic sheeting, I taped them carefully into place and bent down over a large tin of retro green paint. As I levered off the lid and peered inside, the colour momentarily took my breath away. It looked like something out of Steven Spielberg’s Special Effects Department. Hadn’t Mr Spielberg once employed it as the blood of that hideous creature in
Alien
?

I tipped the paint into a plastic tray, half expecting it to smoke as it rippled forth.

A little while later I washed out the roller and paint tray before repeating the whole process again, this time with electric blue.

When Toby peeked around the door to say good-night his face split into a huge grin.

‘This is brilliant Mum.’

‘Glad you like it,’ I smiled lobbing a paintbrush at the tray before standing back, hands on hips, to survey the finished result. Not bad. Not bad at all actually.

The week passed without incident until Friday late afternoon. I’d barely returned home from work and the school run when the doorbell rang. And rang and rang and rang. What on earth-?

‘I’m COMING,’ I yelled irritably. ‘Livvy? Toby? Why can’t one of you answer the door sometimes?’ No response. In the next room a television burst into life. I hastened down the hallway as the doorbell gave another spate of urgent rings.

As I opened the door Nell catapulted into the hall, tears streaming down her face.

‘Help me Cass,’ she implored. ‘Oh dear God please help me.’

She collapsed against me, wracked with sobs. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently steered her into the kitchen.

‘There there, hush,’ I patted her back as if comforting a small child.

‘I’ve run away Cass,’ she gasped.

‘Run away?’

‘From the hospital.’

‘Why?’

‘I realised I couldn’t go through with it. Ben went off to a vending machine for a cup of coffee. As soon as he disappeared I snatched up the car keys and raced out to the car park. Drove like a madwoman home. I saw your car on the drive. Needed to see a friendly face.’

‘Okay,’ I stared at her. Tried to collect my thoughts. ‘But running away isn’t the answer. You have to tell Ben you’ve changed your mind.’

‘I can’t do that Cass. And anyway, Ben will probably leave me now. It’ll be divorce. Oh Christ, what am I going to do?’ she collapsed over the table, head banging the fruit bowl, tears splashing all over the Granny Smiths.

‘Everything will work out,’ I said patting her hand, ‘one way or another.’ I sounded more confident than I felt. ‘Let’s have a coffee.’

I made to put the kettle on just as Nell’s mobile erupted into life. She ignored it. Moments later a merry jingle penetrated the heavy atmosphere announcing a voicemail message. Sniffing and wiping the backs of her hands across her face, Nell checked the display.

‘Ben again. That’s the seventh time he’s called now.’ She switched the mobile off.

‘Aren’t you going to listen to his message?’

‘No.’

‘Nell,’ I said gently. ‘This isn’t right. You will have to talk to Ben at some point. Without communication, nothing can be resolved.’

She looked at me miserably before nodding her head slowly. ‘I know,’ she mumbled. ‘You’re right. Can’t hide. Got to sort it out.’

‘Attagirl,’ I squeezed her hand.

Scraping her chair back she stood up.

‘I’ll just use your loo and then I’ll be on my way.’

Two minutes later Nell reappeared, white faced and stricken.

‘I’m bleeding,’ she croaked. ‘I think I might be miscarrying.’

Grabbing her mobile, I switched it back on and found Ben’s number. He answered immediately, distraught. Rapidly explaining the situation, I told him to be waiting for me. I then hauled the twins away from the television and bundled them into the back of the car, wide-eyed and incredulous, and drove an hysterical Nell back to the hospital.

It was very late when Ben knocked, hours later.