Things I Want My Daughters to Know (35 page)

By mutual agreement, they changed the subject when Hannah came in, refreshingly chatty for a change, full of the school play and the audi-tions that had been scheduled for the following day, and she hadn’t noticed that anything was up. She’d assumed Lisa had come home to hang out. Kids took everything at face value. She didn’t notice the puffy eye-lids because she wasn’t really looking. When boys went through pu-berty and their voices were breaking, there was that disconcerting period when you never knew whether it would come out deep and chocolatey or smurfy and squeaky. Hannah was like that. Sometimes very much a kid. Sometimes not. She and Lisa were downstairs watching TV now. Hannah was sitting on the floor between Lisa’s knees, and her sister was putting her hair in small, tight braids, so that it would be curly for her audition. He could hear Hannah shouting at Alan Sugar on
The Apprentice.

As he often did, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine what his wife would say. It occurred to him that this thought process was definitely different now, because he knew now that Barbara had been unfaithful once, too, even if it wasn’t while she was married to him. Whatever the back story, and however he felt about it, it meant she was capable of it, 258 e l i z a b e t h

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once. You became a trespasser on the moral high ground after a trans-gression like that. It had to affect the way that you judged everyone else.

He realized he’d forgiven Barbara in an instant. Because he wanted to.

He wondered if Andy wanted to forgive Lisa. It was different, of course.

But also the same. You made new rules for the people you loved. They weren’t subject to the same judgment criteria you reserved for the rest of the world. In some ways you were way easier on them, and in others, much harder.

At 10:0 0 p.m. the phone rang beside the bed, and he picked it up on the second ring.

“Mark?” It was Andy.

“Is she there?”

“Yeah. She is.”

Andy sighed. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to get her for you?”

“No. I don’t want to talk to her. I just wanted to know . . . that she was okay.”

“She’s in terrible shape.”

“Not okay like that. Okay—safe. As in not lying in a ditch.”

“She’s safe.”

“Okay, then. Thanks, Mark.” His voice sounded tight. There was nothing of the warmth their relationship had had for years.

“Andy?”

He clearly wasn’t going to get into it now. “Do me a favor—don’t tell her I called. ’Bye.”

He hung up before Mark could say another word.

Downstairs, Lisa had finished Hannah’s hair, but the two of them were still sitting in the same position. Hannah had dropped her braided head onto Lisa’s lap.
The Apprentice
was over, and now they were talking.

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“How is life with you, little sis?” Lisa was glad of the distraction and wondered if Hannah might confess to her. Mark had told her, before Hannah came home from school, that he was having a few communication problems with her. Nothing specific, he said. He just thought she might be holding back from him. She knew he hoped Hannah might open up to her. “You only have to tell me if it’s illegal,”

he’d half joked. “I just want to know she’s not doing anything too wild.”

“Brilliant.”

“In your O level summer? That’s highly suspicious. I had hives and cold sores at this point. What’s so brilliant?”

Hannah turned her head, and her eyes sparkled. “Promise you won’t tell Dad?”

Lisa nodded.

“I’m in love.”

“You are?!”

“I am.”

“Who with?”

Excited now that she had decided to confess, Hannah scrambled onto her knees and began. . . .

Five minutes later, she stopped extolling Nathan’s virtues. Lisa couldn’t help smiling broadly.

“Are you laughing at me? What’s funny?”

Lisa shook her head. “Nothing’s funny. I’m not laughing at you. I’m smiling. It’s nice, Hannah, honestly. I’m happy for you. He sounds
great.

Really.”

Hannah nodded in agreement. “He’s perfect.”

God. Perfect. What a word. If nothing else gave away Hannah’s age and inexperience and innocence, it was the colossally absurd notion that anyone could be perfect. Life was going to slap her around the face a few times in the next few years, just like it did to everyone. Had she ever thought Andy was perfect?

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“So why won’t you talk to your dad about him? Have they even met?”

“God, no!” Hannah sounded like she’d just suggested the earth was flat. She shrugged. “Nathan isn’t into parents.”

Lisa nodded. “Right.” She bet he wasn’t. “Does he actually have some of his own?”

“Yeah. I mean, I haven’t met them. But yeah—course.”

“So are you just afraid Dad will be really uncool? Is that it?”

“No. Dad’s not that bad. I just, I mean, I just—it’s all a bit new and a bit private. You get me, don’t you? I mean, you didn’t tell your dad stuff like that, did you?”

“My dad wasn’t really around at that point.”

“What about Mum?”

“God, yes. Try not talking to her. She made the Spanish Inquisition look like casual questioners. Always wanted all the gory details, did Mum.”

“Yeah, well . . . Mum’s not around to pummel me for my gory details, is she?”

And wouldn’t she love to be,
thought Lisa.

“So . . .” Lisa did some gentle physical pummeling to emphasize her point. “Are there gory details you need to share with your big sister? Are there?”

Hannah laughed and pushed Lisa’s hands away. “One or two,” she said archly.

“Do we need to have
the talk
?”

“Ew. No, we do not.” Hannah looked like she’d been sucking lemons.

“Are you sure? We don’t need to talk about the special cuddle?”

Hannah giggled. “No!! We all know you don’t have the special cuddle until you’re married. Cee Cee told us.”

Cee Cee had, indeed, announced this scintillating piece of information to the whole table over Sunday lunch, the first time Lisa had brought her to meet them. Barbara had reached over and patted her
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hand. “Quite right, Cee Cee,” she’d said, winking at the others. “You listening, you lot?”

Later, in bed, Hannah hugged herself delightedly. Lying here, thinking about him, her heart was still racing. She didn’t feel at all sleepy. She felt . . . alive. She couldn’t think about anything much except Nathan. She would lie in bed, like this, at night, and go over every word, and every kiss and every touch. Last time, she let him take off her bra, under her shirt. There’d been a lot of fumbling. Not to see her, just to touch. It had felt amazing. She felt like a woman. He’d groaned, and she’d felt powerful and sexy. It had been almost shocking to her. She’d been right about him—he wasn’t pushing her into anything she wasn’t ready for. He was patient and tender. And anyway, she really did think she might be ready soon. Maybe she’d make an appointment to see a doctor about going on the pill. She’d use a condom, too, of course. She wasn’t an idiot. She was sixteen, wasn’t she? That was old enough. And she loved him. That made it different. It changed everything. . . .

She didn’t like lying to Dad. . . . Okay, that wasn’t quite true. It got easier each time. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She had the right to make her own decisions, didn’t she? It felt, to Hannah, like she was finally living her life. Mum being ill, Mum dying . . . that had all taken so long. And she’d put everything on hold. To be with Mum. To be with Dad, afterward. Now it was her time.

She hoped Dad might start something with Jane. Take the heat off her.

Amanda

“Blimey. It’s sweltering in here.” Amanda peeled off two of what appeared to be several layers of clothing. Mark looked at the thermostat.

Sixty-six degrees. She looked . . . bundled up, but lovely. She’d come on the train, and Mark had just picked her up at the station. Lisa and Hannah were at Waitrose.

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“Hannah can’t wait to see you!”

“How is she?”

Mark shrugged. “Typical teenager.”

Amanda grimaced. “The lesser spotted typical teenager. They’re pretty horrid. And I should know.”

“You weren’t so bad.”

“I was just breaking you in for Hannah.”

Mark put a mug of coffee down in front of her.

“So . . . how are you? You look great.”

“I am great.” She did. She’d put on a bit of weight, by the look of her, unless it was all thermal vest. She looked fresh-faced.

“I guess it worked out after all, with the mix tape guy?”

Amanda smiled shyly. “It worked out.”

“I’m so glad. Tell me about him?”

“You’d love him. Least I think you would. He’s gorgeous and smart and kind. And
so
nice to me. He’s going to be an architect. He’s got, like, a couple of years to go. He’s taking the rest of this year out, because his dad had this accident. Memento mori, and all that. His parents are
amazing
. His dad—Jeremy—he used to be a lawyer. Nancy, his mum, she was a nurse, but she stopped work to have her family. He’s got two brothers—I’ve only met one. He’s got a wife and two boys—great boys: a complete handful, but lots of fun. They’re incredibly close, and they live in this amazing, amazing house by the sea. It’s freezing, because they don’t believe in central heating, but it’s beautiful. They’re just this completely amazing family. I feel like I just fit in there so well.”

Mark was amazed to find that he was jealous. Sitting here, watching her so animated, enthusing about another family. He didn’t like it. He felt suddenly inadequate.

“Don’t you fit in here?” He didn’t even know why he said it. It was a bit cruel. Amanda’s face fell.

“I didn’t mean that, Mark.” See—that was it. He wasn’t Dad. He was
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Mark. He didn’t think he’d ever minded quite so much as he did at that moment.

“I’m sorry. I was being stupid.”

“Why would you say that to me?” She looked crestfallen and mystified, and he wished he hadn’t said anything. His conversation with Jennifer was an enormous elephant in the corner.

“I’m sorry. I’m a bit jealous, I suppose.” Then, before he could stop himself, “I know, though, Amanda. I know about your dad.”

“What?” Now she looked astonished. “Mum told you?”

“No, no. She never said a word!”

“Lisa told you?”

“No. Jennifer told me.”

“Lisa told Jennifer?”

“Yeah.”

“I asked her not to. I specifically asked her not to.”

Mark looked down at the counter. He felt as though he’d stepped off solid ground into conversational quicksand.

“I don’t think anyone told anyone anything in malice.”

That wasn’t true. Malice was the perfect word for Jennifer that night. She’d wanted to spoil something. A memory, a feeling . . .

“But you’ve all been talking about me.”

“Hannah doesn’t know.”

“Oh no. That wouldn’t do. We have to protect Hannah, don’t we?

The baby.”

“That’s uncalled for.”

“Everyone talking about me behind my back, that’s what’s uncalled for.”

“Why are you getting so angry? We’re your family.”

Amanda made a noise of triumph. “Sort of. I’m mad because they had no right. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

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fix it. “It didn’t hurt me. I admit, to begin with, I was shocked. But I’m okay. It really wasn’t anything to do with me. It’s you we’ve all been worried about.”

A car pulled up. Hannah came running in, Lisa following with her arms full of shopping. Mark moved to take the bags from her while Hannah hugged Amanda.

“Hey, stranger! It’s so nice to see you!”

If Lisa wondered why Amanda’s greeting to her was a little frosty, she was stopped from asking by Mark’s frantic eye signals. They made small talk while Hannah was downstairs. Eventually, Hannah said she needed to send some texts and get back to studying and went upstairs.

“What’s up?” Lisa asked her sister. “You seem cross.”

“I am cross. You told Jennifer. About Dad.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she told Mark?”

“She told you?” Lisa turned to Mark.

“You didn’t know?”

“No. You didn’t tell me.” Lisa looked accusingly at her stepfather.

“Blimey. I see only some of the lines of communication are running well around here. The ones that aren’t supposed to be.”

“Mand . . .”

“You shouldn’t have told her, Lisa. I asked you not to.”

“I didn’t think she’d betray the confidence.”

“What—like you did?” Amanda laughed. “Right!”

“I was concerned for you.”

“And that was going to help how exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Lisa looked a little shamefaced.

“And Jen told you, Mark, why? Out of concern for me?”

She told me to hurt me,
Mark thought, but dared not say out loud.

Lisa perched on a bar stool next to Amanda and spoke to her as gently as she could. “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. If you want to be upset about what happened, with Mum, then that’s fine, but I don’t un-T h i n g s I W a n t M y D a u g h t e r s t o K n o w 265

derstand why you’re making such a big deal about who knows. I really don’t.”

“I’m upset about the whole bloody thing. Don’t you see?” Lisa could see that her sister was close to tears. Amanda turned away and went upstairs without saying another word.

And Lisa felt like crying herself.

Lisa

Lisa couldn’t bear to call him on the phone. She was afraid of hearing the coldness in his voice, terrified of long, awkward pauses. At home, Cee Cee might answer. At work, it might be his secretary, or a colleague.

Who might know, or might not know. What she’d done, what had happened, how things were between them now. She couldn’t call him.