The Family Trap (15 page)

‘Yes, but you need friends your own age as well, Stella.’ He pulls me into another hug, one arm wrapped around my shoulder. ‘You need some outside interests, give you a sense of perspective. You need to find time for yourself. Look at your mum and me,’ he adds, and I instinctively pull away. My mum and dad’s relationship? No thank you. But Dad has other ideas and huddles me closer. ‘Even after all we’ve been through, we still recognise that we need lives outside our marriage. Your mum’s got her job now, and her baking and her sewing, and I’ve got my new job and my cycling. With Bonnie in America, and Paul … Well, you really need to think about opening up your social circle some.’

He’s right, but I’m not about to admit it. Besides, where the hell would I start? I could join the bridge club at Twilight, but that’s about it. Instead I decide to tease him about his cycling. Because he hates it. Oh, I’m still a child at heart, and teasing my dad is still just about the most fun to be had without alcohol.

‘You know what they call men like you, Dad? MAMILs.’

‘Mammals?’

‘No, M-A-M-I-L. It stands for middle-aged men in Lycra.’

‘Oh, very funny.’ He smiles uncertainly while I crease up. ‘Your mum happens to think I look very sexy in my Lycra tights.’

Well, that sucks all the joy out of the moment. Yuk! There’s an image you don’t want in your mind on a Friday afternoon. On any afternoon.

‘What?’ he says, poking me in the ribs. ‘You don’t like me in tights or you don’t like the thought of your mum
really
liking
me in tights?’

‘Both, actually. I’m a normal person. That kind of stuff disgusts me.’

‘She really digs me in my padded cycling shorts too. She loves to run her hands up and down my–’

‘Stop!’ I shriek, prising him off me and running for cover.

He struts towards me, puffing out his chest. ‘I’ll give you MAMIL, young lady.’

This is what I love about my dad. Despite the fact that he’s clearly mad – and likes to wear Lycra – he’s so much fun.

I notice Lipsy smiling at me and shaking her head, and I raise my glass in a toast. She raises hers and then turns away. I wheel around, laughing, but my dad’s not by my side anymore. He’s crossed the room and taken up his former position, wedged against my mother, their hands entwined. I try to ignore the lump in my throat, and tell the room in general that I’m just popping upstairs for something.

No one hears me.

*

When I’ve pulled myself together enough to come back down, I find my dad holding court and tapping on his glass with a spoon. He clears his throat.

‘If I could just have everyone’s attention for a moment,’ he says, smiling broadly, ‘I’d like to say a few words.’

He has his arm around my mother, and Robert has his arm around Lipsy, and one of Lipsy’s school friends has an arm around Rosie. Her other friend is holding Phoenix, looking proud and terrified at the same time. I, however, have no one. This is, of course, all my own fault.

Dad starts talking about Lipsy and how proud he is of her now she’s a mum, and I try to catch my mother’s eye. She looks worried, a look I got so used to seeing last year I became immune to it, but one that’s been mercifully absent since Dad came home. But now her eyes are tipping down at the edges, and her fingers are twirling furiously at her hair. Is it my imagination or is she deliberately avoiding looking at me? We haven’t talked since she stormed out on lunch, which is clearly why I knew nothing about this party. Or maybe she did tell me and I just plain forgot. It’s not like I haven’t got a lot on my mind.

I’m about to wave my hand to get her attention when my dad clears his throat again and the room falls silent.

‘Maggie,’ he says to my mum, and then to my astonishment he falls down on one knee, grabs her hand, and holds it up to his cheek. ‘Maggie, I love you. Thank you for being mine, for everything you’ve put up with over the years. Will you marry me, Maggie, all over again?’

‘Yes,’ she whispers, and she leans down and kisses him full on the lips.

‘Get a room,’ shouts one of Lipsy’s friends. My dad smiles and stands up, and everyone starts to clap.

Everyone except me, that is.

‘You’re married already,’ I tell them, stepping forward. I’m pointing out the obvious, seeing as everyone else in the room seems to have gone a bit crazy.

Dad pulls my mum in a little closer. You couldn’t fit a razor blade between them. ‘It’s called renewing your vows, Stella. It’s a gesture, to show the world that we’re putting the past behind us, moving on.’

‘Well, why don’t you just go on a cruise, like normal people?’ I say sourly.

‘Not a romantic bone in her body, is there?’ Lipsy says behind me. I swing round to look at her.

‘That’s not fair. I can be romantic. But I don’t get this, is all. It’s just drawing attention to it all over again. Can’t we for once just put the past behind us? Why keep dragging it up like this?’

‘No one’s dragging anything up, Stella,’ says my mum. ‘Except you.’

‘What do you mean?’ But I know what she means, and I hate to admit she’s right. Is this what she was looking so worried about? My reaction? I’m sick of being the baddie in this family.

I decide to have one last attempt at sanity. ‘Look, I get it that you want to renew your vows, it’s lovely, really. But isn’t it better to do it quietly? Privately? Do you really want everyone looking at you, Mum? Thinking about what you did?’

‘Stella.’

‘No, Dad. It needs to be said. Why do you think Billy’s gone away again? Why do you think he’s so loath to come back? None of us thought it would be easy when you came home, but the last thing we expected was to keep having our noses rubbed in it like this.’

‘Keep your voice down,’ Lipsy hisses, and I look around to see multiple pairs of eyes staring at me. I take a deep breath and will myself to calm down. Getting worked up is not good for the baby.

My mum sips her wine and places it carefully on the window sill. ‘Howard’ she says, addressing my dad and ignoring the rest of us, ‘I’m not surprised Stella isn’t happy about it. After all, weddings aren’t going to be her favourite topic right now, are they? Not after the mess she made of her own.’

Chapter 14

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 16 March 2012 23:45

Dear Paul,

I know when you phoned me a few weeks ago I asked you not to call again, and I’m sorry if I was rude. Thank you for the birthday card and the money you sent. That was very thoughtful. I hope things are going well for you in Derby with the new job etc. I’m emailing because I thought you might want to know how my mum is. The thing is, she’s not too good. That job of hers is hard work, and she’s very tired and very sad. It was my birthday party today and I think she was missing you a lot. She got snappy with my granddad and grandma, who have just announced they are renewing their vows at the end of June. I think it’s because she was reminded of the wedding and feels bad that she called it off. I feel bad that she’s had to move out of the house, and I wondered if you are planning to stay up there permanently or are thinking of coming back anytime soon. Robert and I have been talking and we feel that if the two of you were to just sit down together and talk you could work things out. You always have before.

There are things you don’t know, Paul. But it’s not for me to tell you. I just wondered if you might be coming back to Milton Keynes, or if you have gone for good.

Lipsy

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: 17 March 2012 00:16

Dear Lipsy,

Thanks for your email. It was a surprise to hear from you, but I’m glad you got the card and the money. How is your baby? I hope you’re not finding it all too much, and are getting plenty of sleep. Please say hello to Robert from me. It’s something I regret very much that I didn’t get to say goodbye to you all properly.

I’d very much like to know what you are talking about when you say: “There are things you don’t know”. What things? Is it to do with the real reason your mum called off the wedding? I really think I should know, don’t you? It doesn’t seem fair to keep me in the dark. Does she have someone else? That’s the only thing I can think of. I did write to her at the address you gave me but I didn’t get a reply. Perhaps you could send me the address again, just in case I got it down wrong. In fact, I think I must have written it down wrong, because that part of Bletchley is a bit rough, actually. But if she got the letter and chose not to answer, that says it all, really, don’t you think?

I’d prefer it if you kept this to yourself, Lipsy
– can I trust you to do that? – but things aren’t going too well here. This job isn’t exactly what I thought it would be – I think Tom might have overestimated the need for rental housing in Derby. Really, it’s quite depressing, and I can’t seem to set my mind to it. It must be easier for your mum, being around her family and everything familiar, but for me coming here – where I should have been coming with my wife – it’s been very, very hard. I’m stunned that I haven’t heard from her, to be honest. At least a phone call or even a text to explain, never mind answering my letter.

Which only leads me to believe, despite what you said in your email, that she is perfectly happy with her decision and has no intention of changing her mind. Or even talking to me about it. If I hear from her, I might reconsider. But until I do, I don’t feel I can contact her again. And I think that’s what you were asking, wasn’t it?

It’s really up to her, Lipsy, not me. If she wants to get in touch she knows where I am. I’m sorry that she seems unwell and is working too hard. But it is, after all, only her choice.

Best wishes, Paul

*

‘Hold on, Stella. Just stay there and I’ll get help.’

‘No. No, don’t go anywhere. Could you just … could you just hold back my hair for me? That would be a real help. If you don’t mind terribly.’

Edie obliges, and I lean back over the sink with a groan. So much for the morning sickness ending soon. It seems to be getting worse if anything. And now I’m subjecting an old lady to my vomiting
– in her own bathroom, for goodness sake. Please tell me it doesn’t get any more humiliating than this.

‘Hello? Anyone home?’

‘In here, Franklin. Come on in.’

Oh, Jesus. You couldn’t make this up.

‘Stella? Is that Stella under there, Edie? What on earth is wrong with the girl?’

‘She’s being sick, Franklin, dear. Could you be a pet and pass me some of those baby wipes by the bed. I think I’ve got some on my slippers.’

I’m about to apologise when another wave hits me, and I’m doubled up and retching by the time Franklin retrieves the wipes. Wordlessly, he hands me one and I dab at my mouth and chin.

‘Glass of water?’ Edie asks. I nod, weakly.

Franklin helps me over to a chair, then stands back with his hands on his hips, a puzzled frown between his bright blue eyes.

‘Is she ill?’ he says to Edie.

‘Sort of,’ she replies. They look at each other. It’s like I’m not even in the room. Franklin nods and taps his nose.

‘Got it. Right, I’m off. Hope you’re feeling better soon, Stella, my dear.’ At the door he turns and gives me one of his mischievous twinkles. ‘In about six months or so, eh?’

Edie laughs, and I turn to her, incredulous. ‘What, are you two psychic or something? Do you talk with your minds?’

‘Oh, don’t be silly. It’s obvious, isn’t it?’

‘I hope not,’ I groan, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the hem of my tabard. ‘I can’t cope with Velma finding out.’

‘Why?’ asks Edie. ‘She can’t sack you, can she? I thought there were laws against that sort of thing these days.’

‘She won’t sack me, no. But she’ll make my life a misery. She’ll give me all the shitty jobs to do, the worst shifts and the heavy lifting. And you just know she’ll put me on bed pan duty for a month if she hears about the morning sickness. It would be her idea of fun.’

Edie tuts and returns to her slippers. There are little white marks on the navy velour where she’s rubbed at them with the wipes.

‘I’m sorry about the splashing, Edie. I’ll buy you some new slippers.’

‘You know what, Stella? I didn’t like them anyway. I’m going to upgrade to some of those slouchy knitted ones that are all the rage these days. I could do with something a bit trendier. Could you pick me some up next time you’re at the shops? You’re not to pay for them, mind. I’ll give you the money. No arguments.’

I nod, smiling. The thought of Edie in “trendy” slippers cheers me up no end. ‘Well, all right. But next time you just stand well back, OK?’

Edie agrees and tops up my water glass.

‘I’d better be getting back to work,’ I tell her, trying to stand. My legs are like jelly and I feel lightheaded. I wobble and then flop back into her easy chair.

‘Don’t worry. Franklin’s gone to create a diversion so you can have a rest.’

I look at her in amazement. ‘How do you know that? Did he tell you all that with just one look? You two are so …’

I trail off. What I was going to say might come across as inappropriate. I was going to say they are so sweet together. But if my suspicions about Edie’s true feelings for Franklin are correct, she might not appreciate my noticing.

‘Have you heard from Paul?’ Edie asks. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed with her hands tucked in under her legs. Her feet don’t even reach the floor. I shake my head.

‘Just that one letter.’

‘And you still haven’t answered it?’

‘What can I say? Besides, I can’t believe he practically accused me of seeing someone else. And told me I was old. Too old to have any more children, anyway.’ Edie and I both look down at my stomach. The tabard hides it well, as do the baggy clothes, but under all this I’m definitely starting to show.