The Bad Mother (20 page)

After the last three days with Tamsin, Mitch felt there was nothing he couldn’t do if he set his mind to it. Before she came home for half-term, sex had been a furtive matter of spunk and used tissues, but now he understood what it was all about. Making love with her, he felt like a dragonfly nymph shedding its ungainly skin and basking in the sun as its warmth dried his silvery wings. Two days ago he and Tamsin had stood on a little wooden bridge watching the dragonflies dart back and forth, the kingfisher blue of their bodies iridescent against the reflective surface of the water. Mitch told her how Grandpa Hugo used to bring him here as a kid and they’d lie down, their faces right at the edge of the water, so they could spot the beetle-like nymphs emerging from the water. ‘Nymph’ had seemed like the wrong name for these awkward, wingless creatures, he explained to her, until Hugo had encouraged him to watch and wait and he had witnessed the transformation for himself. And now it had happened to him.

Mitch loved how he could tell Tamsin about the dragon-flies without her mocking him or thinking he was ‘dreamy’, which was how one of his teachers had described him to Tessa at the last parents’ evening. Just because he wasn’t tempted to get a fake ID and go clubbing in Ipswich, then throw up on the station platform coming home, didn’t make him a late developer. Even his oldest friend Chris, with whom he used to make dens and stuff when they were kids, and who’d been just as fascinated by insects and birds and shellfish, made out he thought it was lame to still enjoy the countryside. So for the last year or two, the only person he could share all that with had been Hugo. Mitch was sure Hugo and Tamsin would like each other.

He looked at her now, dozing beside him, the untanned white skin under where she’d worn her bikini on her Caribbean holiday, both laughable and awesomely private and precious. He felt no guilt about being here with her like this. In fact he was willing to bet that if Hugo could see them, or even knew what they had just done, in some deep, important way he would actually approve. Hugo understood what really mattered and what didn’t. The thought made Mitch feel grown-up and responsible, his dragonfly wings strengthening in the warmth of the sun.

Tamsin opened her eyes and looked sleepily into his, snuggling closer and kissing his shoulder. ‘Shall we get up?’ she asked.

Mitch turned to kiss her, wanting to make love to her all over again, yet part of him also wanted to savour the ordinariness that was nearly as exciting as the act itself.
The experience of simply standing beside her as she opened the giant fridge door, of taking the juice carton from her hands to pour her a glass, while his skin tingled and her eyes still had that surprised, dilated look, was wonderful.

‘Hungry?’ she asked.

Realising he was, Mitch twisted to look at the clock beside her bed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Lunch time.’

He got out of bed and picked his discarded T-shirt up off the floor. As he straightened up, he heard a click and a giggle from Tamsin. She was kneeling in the middle of the bed, holding out her iPhone so she could photograph him. He shrugged into his jeans as she took more pictures, then lunged at her, mock-fighting for possession of the device. Straddling her, he took a couple of photos of her naked on the crumpled sheet below him.

‘You’d better not stick any of these on Instagram.’

‘You’ll have to be extra nice to me, then.’ she teased.

‘No way!’

Laughing, he took her hand to pull her off the bed, stroking her warm back before she pulled lingeringly away. As he put on his shoes he watched her as she dressed, admiring the elegance of her pointed feet as she stepped into her knickers, her swan-like shoulder blades as she slipped a T-shirt over her head. Barefoot, she headed for the door. Mitch looked back at the bed. ‘Shouldn’t we tidy up a bit?’

‘Oh, Sonia will do that when she comes to turn down.’ She saw his incredulous look and laughed. ‘Daddy likes to believe he’s permanently in a hotel.’

Although Mitch shook his head over Charlie’s self-indulgence, uncomfortable images came to mind, and he hoped Charlie never saw his mum, like Sonia, turning down the guest beds. Hoped too that Tessa never laid eyes on Tamsin’s huge wooden sleigh bed, emperor-sized cashmere throw or claw-foot bathtub with the towelling-covered armchair beside it, and realised how meagre in comparison was her idea of luxury that she offered so proudly.

‘But won’t Sonia tell your dad?’ he warned. ‘If she guesses how the bed got so messed up?’

‘Oh, I see.’ Tamsin giggled. ‘I don’t think she would, but maybe we’d better hide the evidence.’ She went back and dragged up the covers to hide the rumpled sheets. Mitch straightened the other side, hating himself for seeing her carelessness as somehow more classy than his concern.

They found Charlie, wearing a pristine grey tracksuit with a white towel round his neck, sitting at the enormous oak kitchen table reading something on his iPad while eating scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. Quinn sat close beside him, looking over his arm at the little screen. Seeing them enter she shifted demurely, hooking her bare feet up beneath her on the chair, but not before Mitch had noticed that she’d been playing footsie under the table with her employer.

Charlie nodded to Tamsin and returned his attention to the iPad, flicking rapidly as he scanned the information. Mitch glanced at Tamsin, but inured to her father’s
lack of interest, she thankfully did not appear to find anything amiss between him and the nanny. Mitch despised Charlie for jeopardising his daughter’s peace of mind. And wasn’t it also his job to keep watch over what she got up to with boys? Yet Charlie never asked where they disappeared off to for hours on end and, amazingly, didn’t seem to notice how glowingly different she was these days.

‘That looks good,’ said Tamsin, nodding at her father’s plate. ‘Shall we have the same?’

‘Sure,’ Mitch answered.

‘I’ll call Sonia to make you some,’ offered Quinn, starting to get up.

‘We can do it,’ said Mitch quickly, instinctively shielding Tamsin from being contaminated by whatever Quinn was getting up to with Captain Gorgeous. Catching Tamsin’s look of surprise, he laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you can’t even scramble an egg?’

‘No, I can,’ she protested. ‘I just …’ She looked bashful. ‘Show me?’

‘If you have any cream, I could do them the way my dad does. If you add the cream at the end, it stops the eggs cooking too fast.’

Passing behind Charlie, Mitch noticed that his hair was wet. ‘Have you been in the sea?’ he asked without thinking. ‘It’s great, isn’t it? Bet it was cold!’

Charlie looked at him with a vague frown, and let Quinn answer for him. ‘There’s a pool downstairs.’

‘Downstairs?’

‘In the basement,’ explained Quinn. ‘Next to the gym.’

‘How big is the basement?’ asked Mitch incredulously.

Quinn looked as if she didn’t understand the question, and Tamsin answered for her.

‘Not like a lap pool. An endless pool, so Dad can work out.’

Not wanting to show his ignorance, Mitch didn’t seek an explanation. ‘How many eggs?’ he asked instead.

Tamsin handed him things from the fridge and put bread in the toaster, while Mitch arranged the salmon and then spooned judicious helpings of perfectly textured egg beside neat triangles of toast. Laying the plates on the table with a subtle flourish, he looked to see if Charlie was impressed, only to realise with chagrin that in Charlie’s life, food was always served like this.

‘Really good!’ said Tamsin, taking a second mouthful. ‘Mmm, yummy!’ She looked at her dad. ‘Mitch’s father opens his restaurant tonight.’

‘Where?’ asked Charlie.

‘Here in Felixham. In the High Street.’

‘Oh. So not London.’ Charlie didn’t bother to disguise his immediately waning interest.

‘Mitch showed me round the other day. You know the place Mum loves in Santa Barbara? It’s kind of like that.’

Mitch brimmed with pride for his dad, but also saw Quinn tense up at the mention of Charlie’s wife, a reaction that disappointingly confirmed his suspicions.

‘Mitch and I are going,’ continued Tamsin happily. ‘You should come.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘I should check with my dad first,’ said Mitch. ‘It’s going to be rammed. There may not be space.’ If Charlie couldn’t behave well, Mitch didn’t see why he had to be polite, not even for Tamsin’s sake.

‘Oh, Daddy can always get a table anywhere, can’t you?’ teased Tamsin.

‘Yeah, I’ll come,’ Charlie announced. ‘See what it’s like.’

Mitch knew he was being as childish as Charlie to resent this arrogant abuse of power, but was also aware how the presence of Captain Gorgeous at the opening would be a big deal and give a boost to all Sam’s hard work. Unable to decide whether he was being craven or pragmatic, Mitch assured Tamsin’s father he’d be very welcome.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Tessa tried on three different outfits, each change accompanied by a mixture of increasing despair and absurdity. Throwing aside the rather expensive dress she’d liked so much in the shop, she decided there ought to be an etiquette manual that decreed what a spurned wife should wear to the first public meeting with her replacement! She did not want to look desperate, as if she were trying too hard, but neither did she want Nula to think her frumpy and frigid. In the end she settled on the little black dress. Everyone else at Sam’s opening would be in pastels or bright summer colours, but black was always smart and she could not deny that she felt a widow’s grief.

The light June evening was warm and cloudless, and she crossed the road to walk beside the sea wall. Now that she had to arrive alone, she regretted refusing Hugo’s suggestion that they call for her. Entering under the nautical signage, she threaded her way through the crowd gathering in the cobbled courtyard and went into the packed main dining room. She immediately spotted Mitch
and Lauren, who were being paid tonight to work alongside the regular waiters. Both wore black trousers and aprons and new white T-shirts printed with ‘Sam’s Place’ in a stylish red script that she recognised as Nula’s work, and were carrying trays of food – mini-versions of all the regular items on the menu. She had seen Lauren’s excitement about the evening, and how delighted Mitch was that his dad’s months of hard work were about to pay off, and was certain that the event – and the brasserie’s future – would be a success. But she ached to participate in an achievement that was no longer hers to share.

Accepting a glass of wine from an unfamiliar young Polish waiter, Tessa took a good look around. It felt strange that this should be her first chance to see inside the finished interior, and she couldn’t help admiring the chrome-and-silver mirrors set against navy and white. She spotted Sam by the bar, looking rather glassy-eyed and rabbit-in-headlights, while next to him Nula wrote something on a card and handed it to the woman she was talking to, nodding enthusiastically and pointing out something in a menu, clearly already winning new business. Sam caught her eye and raised his head in greeting, but Tessa pretended not to see.

She toyed with her gold bracelet. Sam had sent her a card but, for the first time, no birthday present. Roy’s card, which had accompanied the bracelet, had been an ordinary greetings card but chosen because the photograph showed a rustic table spread with a blue-and-white gingham cloth on which stood a pretty bowl heaped with cherries; inside,
he’d written that he hoped she’d always have cherries in her cake, and would think of him as she blew out her candles and made her wish. She had no idea how he’d been able to find such an apt image, but treasured the gesture all the more for the effort he must have put into it.

She regretted that she hadn’t told Pamela about her meetings with Roy in a more measured way. She assumed Pamela had told Hugo, and was apprehensive about what they might say to her tonight. Yet if Roy was going to occupy his rightful place in her life, then her visits to the prison would soon have to stop being secret, even from the kids. And after all, if Nula had to be accepted as part of the family, then so did Roy.

Tessa was just beginning to feel conspicuous all by herself when she saw Lauren beckoning to her while clasping the heavy tray to herself with her other hand. Tessa went gladly, reaching for a kiss, but Lauren turned in a different direction. ‘Mum,’ she said, her eyes shining, ‘this is Tamsin Crawford and her dad!’

Tessa greeted a slim, straight-haired girl who smiled in reply while beside her a man in a rather incongruous baseball cap held out his hand. ‘Charlie Crawford,’ he said with the same perfect smile as his daughter. It lit up his face and made Tessa like him immediately. ‘You must be Tessa Parker, right?’

‘Right. How do you do?’

‘Good, thanks,’ he said. ‘And this is Quinn.’

Quinn – whom Tessa remembered hearing was the nanny – gave a meek nod.

‘D’you like it, Mum?’ Lauren indicated the restaurant with a twirling gesture of her head. ‘It’s so great, isn’t it?’

Tessa agreed that it was. Lauren’s excitement made her notice how Charlie Crawford at the centre of their small circle attracted heightened attention from different parts of the room. She rather liked the sensation of being included in their gaze. Charlie himself seemed unconsciously to absorb this and rise to meet it, as if the perception of his glamour increased its potency. Proximity to such unassailable confidence increased her own, and she felt her apprehension begin to dissolve.

‘These are yummy,’ said Lauren, holding out her tray. ‘Try one.’

Tessa inspected the chic little portions of fish pie, each served with its own small plastic fork. They reminded her of the treat-sized tubs of ice cream on sale at cinemas, but there were too many butterflies in her stomach to contemplate eating. ‘Maybe later,’ she told Lauren.

Mitch materialised beside Charlie Crawford, holding a tray covered with little pots of sausage and celeriac mash. Charlie gave it a fleeting glance and, without looking at Mitch, pushed his discarded dish onto it. ‘Bring me another of those hamburgers, would you?’

‘Daddy!’ Tamsin looked appalled and giggled nervously. ‘It’s Mitch.’

Tessa watched as Charlie glanced up, recognised the face above the waiter’s outfit, and nodded. ‘Oh, yeah. Hi. Sorry. Such fabulous food, I can’t get enough of it.’