The Stepmother (36 page)

“Tell him.”

“And feeling like a second-choice bride?”

“He'd be horrified. Tessa, he couldn't love you more.”

“I worry he won't be as interested in our children as he is in his first ones?”

“Have you talked about children?”

“I've been too afraid to. I say it's because I don't mind, but really I'm terrified about what he'll say. He's had three, could he do it all over again?”

“Wouldn't you rather know than live in fear of an imagined outcome?”

“I suppose so.”

“Stop giving him a hard time over things he doesn't deserve a hard time over because you don't have the courage to tell him what's bothering you.”

“You are way too smart for an old man,” I laughed.

“Your fault for introducing me to Open University. Everyone's so worried about keeping their hearts healthy. I've been more afraid of losing my marbles.”

“No chance of that, Dad. You're my career adviser, bank manager, accountant, and therapist all rolled into one.”

“All for the price of a pint,” he chuckled. “Go home and call him. Mum's right, there's no need to come rushing back here.”

Dad was right too. On all counts. The aging process is a bastard, but wisdom comes no other way. “Dad,” I said, standing up, “will you talk to me for a bit longer? Just while I get off this scary towpath and find myself a cab?”

“It would be my pleasure, my beautiful girl. I'm simply longing to talk to you about fish…”

 

I
T WAS TEN-THIRTY WHEN
I let myself into the Hampstead flat. Although mine was closer to the office, I wanted to go home and this was my home now. Where James was. Or wasn't. But where he'd come back to. Our team headquarters. I threw off my work clothes and dumped them on the chair in our bedroom, cleaned my teeth, and climbed into bed. I left a message on James's phone, asking him to call me when he was through with his meetings. Whatever time that was. I left all accusations and recriminations out of my voice. I just wanted to hear his.

Despite my ruminations, I was soon deeply asleep, but reared up like a stallion when I heard the phone. “James?”

“Everything all right?”

“I miss you. Come home.”

“Oh, Tessa—”

“It's okay. I know you can't, but I just wanted to tell you that I wish, wish, wish you were here.”

“You know I would be if I could.”

“I do.” I wrapped myself up in the duvet. “I'm sorry I got cross before.”

“Totally understandable.”

“Really? I don't understand it.”

“They're my children. You have enough on your plate without having to deal with them and Bea.”

“You do understand,” I said, slightly taken aback. How did he manage to simplify everything?

“I'm not stupid, Tessa.”

I clung to the phone. Actually, I would have liked to crawl into it and magic myself down the line, across the mid-Atlantic ridge, down Route 66, into room 1238 at the Château Marmont. “James, can I say something?”

“Anything.”

“Really? Because sometimes there are things I feel I can't say.”

“Like?”

“Anything to do with the girls.”

“Come on.”

Okay, I thought, here goes. “Too much attention goes Amber's way to the detriment of the other two,” I said. “Lulu needs serious help with her reading and writing. But she's not getting it. You never sit and read with her.”

“There isn't time.”

“James, you're doing it again.”

“What?”

“Slamming me down. You do that whenever I try to talk to you about anything that's a bit difficult.”

“That's not true.”

“It is. I told you there was a problem between Amber and me, but you didn't want to talk about it. You wanted to think Bea's drinking was a one-off. You wouldn't even entertain the idea that someone other than Caspar ripped that dress—”

“But Amber told—”

“And so did I. But you believed her! Can't you see that puts me in an impossible position? You make me feel like a second-class citizen when you put Amber first all the time. I get jealous and that makes me feel insecure, and insecurity can turn even the most level-headed woman into a fruitcake. A dangerous one at that. It's easy to see why stepmothers can become so evil. Our husbands have a love interest who is half our age and twice as beautiful.”

“Please, Tessa, tell me you're not jealous of Amber?”

I closed my eyes. This was harder than I'd thought it was going to be. “I'm sorry, but if I lie to you now I'll regret it in the future.” God, I could be Bea talking. “I am jealous. Less so now that I understand her animosity, but I worry that I'll always feel threatened by the relationship you two have.”

“Trust me,” he said sexily. “I love you in a completely different way.”

I managed a laugh but it was short, small, and shallow. Humor is a great elixir, but it isn't a miracle cure. “Whatever way you love us, there are still two of us and only one of you. And that's not to mention the other two.”

“Who?”

“Maddy and Lulu!”

“Tessa, I was joking!”

“This isn't a time for jokes.”

“Sorry. I didn't realize humor was banned.”

“Don't do that, James. Don't make me out to be the grouch. I don't want to be Bea.”

“Nor do I.”

“Are you sure?”

“Tessa, I was just trying to lighten the tone.”

“You're not listening to me. I don't want you to lighten the tone. I want you to realize how important this is to me.”

“Okay. I'm sorry.” I could hear him breathing down the phone. There was a knock on his door. “Hang on.”

I was tiring from the fight, heaviness creeping up my limbs. I closed my eyes. Then I heard a woman's voice and the tiredness evaporated.

“Jimbo, come on. It's drinks time.”

“Down in a minute. Just got to finish a call.”

The door closed and James came back to the phone.

“Who was that?” I asked, though I'd sworn I wouldn't.

“Agent from the L.A. office.”

“Drinks? Jimbo?”

“I'll miss them,” said James. “This is more important.”

I pulled the duvet tighter around me. “Is what I'm saying honestly making no sense to you?”

“I suppose Lucy and Faith have made the odd comment—”

“And Bea.”

James sighed.

“It's okay. You can say her name. It's when you don't that I get nervous.”

“Yes, and Bea. So everyone's telling me I'm making her into a princess. Like that's a bad thing. Isn't that what all little girls want to be?”

“Yes and no. It's complicated.”

“I've got three daughters. You'd better explain it.”

“Pretty dresses and being worshipped and adored is all well and good, but we've also got to be able to hike up the hem, climb down the tower, and slay the dragon for ourselves.”

“I wouldn't fancy the dragon's chances against Amber,” James said.

“No. You and Bea were a good balance. But you may have noticed Bea isn't around much when I am, so I'm left pretty unsupported, and Amber ends up being overindulged. I don't have the right to do what Bea does. And I don't want it. I'm not her mother. You've got to be stricter. Or at least fair.”

He sighed again. “You think I let her get away with too much.”

“It's for her own good, James. Being a daddy's girl is fine at four, but it's not such a good look at forty.”

“I know too much attention goes her way, it's always been like that. I was working when the other two came along but, to be honest, I used that as an excuse not to be so involved. God, this is hard to admit…It does get a bit boring by the third. Who cared if it was pear, banana, or squash? It was all mush to me. There was nothing exciting about changing another stinking nappy. I didn't spend as much time with Lulu, even less with Maddy, and then I felt guilty. I tell you, with kids you get out what you put in and they didn't welcome me home every evening with open arms like Amber did.” He cleared his throat. “So, naturally…” His voice faltered.

“And Bea tried to tell you?”

“I used work as an excuse to hide. I'd manage to come up with some inescapable meeting and skip the little ones' bath and bedtime altogether.”

“I don't think you're alone in that.”

“We ended up resenting each other.”

“Easily happens,” I said.

“I don't want that to happen to us, Tessa. I love you too much.”

“And I love you. That's why I need to say all these things. It's too important to fuck up.”

“I'm sorry, my love, I really am. I should have listened to you. I just want us all to be happy. We have so much to be grateful for.”

I wished so much he was lying next to me. I needed to feel his skin. But perhaps we had had to be separated by a continent for this conversation to take place.

“I'll deal with Amber,” he said.

“She needs you now more than ever.”

“We'll deal with Amber, then.”

I sighed. “I like the sound of that.”

“I'll do anything I have to. Anything. Give me a chance to change. I know how costly it is not to. We do this together. We're a team, right? I do not want to lose you, Tessa King. You. Not Bea.”

The low groan escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“God, I wish I was there in bed with you,” he said.

“Not as much I do.”

“I'd watch you drift off to sleep, and just as the wave caught you, I'd slowly undo the buttons on my old pajamas.”

“How do you know I'm wearing them?”

“You always do when I'm away.”

“How do you know?”

“You never put them back.”

“Busted.”

“Ssh, I'm telling you what I'd do to you if I were there.” I sshed. “I'd slip my hand under the material and trace my fingers all over your body. First your breasts, your stomach, then your hips, and, finally, I'd ease open your legs.”

I groaned.

“You'd groan just like that. But you'd still be nestling on the edge of sleep.”

I put my hand down between my legs and imagined it was James. For a few short moments, it almost was.

 

T
HE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON
I
WAS
in my office, stifling a yawn, when Linda walked in. Without knocking.

“Number fucking one,” she said.

Whoop-whoop. I forced a smile. “Congratulations.”

“We're going to the pub to celebrate. You coming?”

“No. I'm going to finish off here and get a train to Oxford.”

“Oxford?”

“My parents.”

“How is she?” asked Linda.

“My mother?” I said coldly. “Well, her eyesight hasn't returned, but she seems okay. Thanks.”

“Fucking awful disease, MS. My nan had it.”

I nodded in a noncommittal yet sympathetic way. She wasn't going to get me to roll over that easily. She walked over to my desk and picked up a piece of paper that had nothing to do with her. Then she put it down. “Well, if we're all out, seems daft you sitting here all conscientious on your fucking tod. May as well go.” Then she left my office. That was as much of an apology as I was going to get. I wasn't proud, I'd take it. I closed down my computer, took my files with me, and left.

 

D
AD WAS WAITING FOR ME
in the doorway when the taxi pulled up. He came down the path to greet me. He looked wonderful. I glanced at my reflection in the side mirror. My hair was filthy, my skin looked gray, my clothes were crumpled, and I smelled of other people's paninis. But it didn't matter, because Dad helped me out of the car, enveloped me in his arms, and hugged me for a long time.

“Good news,” he said. “Mum has got a bit of peripheral vision back. Incredible woman.”

“That's great!” I burst into tears. “Sorry,” I said, wiping my eyes and laughing. “I don't know what's wrong with me at the moment.”

“You're tired,” said my father wisely. I was teetering on the edge after four broken nights. No wonder new mothers went mad.

“Come and have a cup of tea. Mum's wrapped up and sitting in the garden. Did you speak to James?”

I put my arm through his. “Yes. For hours.”

“You were supposed to stay in London for a good night's sleep.”

“Just doing what my daddy told me.”

“Everything okay?”

“Better than okay. Thanks to you.”

“Don't thank me. I can only make suggestions. The rest is down to you. Go out to the garden. I'll bring you tea.”

“You sure you're not getting tired, Dad?”

“Me? I feel on top of the world.”

 

M
Y MOTHER WAS LYING ON
the recliner normally reserved for summer. Her head was tilted back, her eyes were closed, and she'd been tucked tightly under a blanket. She looked so peaceful that I didn't want to disturb her. I took a seat at the other end of the terrace and watched her. That was what my parents were to me: a blanket, tucking me in against the elements. I closed my eyes and listened to the wood pigeons' guttural song. Someone was mowing a lawn in the village. I could hear the sound of the radio drift through the open kitchen window. These were moments to cherish. I heard Dad's footsteps on the flagstones, and a cup of tea floated into view. He looked at my mother.

“I think she's dozed off,” I said.

“The pace of life is so much more frenetic than it used to be. It's become a privilege just to stop and think occasionally,” he said, sitting down next to me.

“That's exactly what I was thinking.”

“It's why I loved the fishing. Me and nature. I thought at first I'd get bored, but my mind soon steadied and my soul opened up. I watched a water boatman skate across the water and was mesmerized.” I didn't speak.