Wonder Women (42 page)

‘I suppose it might take them a few goes to get used to me. Maybe I'll have a T-shirt printed that says, “Freelancer, not unemployed layabout”.'

‘So the one I'm having made for you that says “Kept man” won't do?' Jo smiled and slipped her arms around his waist.

‘Do you reckon “Gigolo” would be too much for the Baby Chickens Toddler Group?'

‘Oooh, if you had a gigolo T-shirt, would it be white, and
very tight?' asked Jo, running her hands over his arms and shoulders.

‘Well, if that's what my sugar mommy bought me, that's what I would have to wear,' said Lee, smiling down at her.

‘Aren't sugar mommies supposed to be older?'

‘Details, details,' he said, and kissed her.

He and Imi went to another toddler group on the Thursday, and there a few mums did at least try to talk to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were just being polite. They asked after Jo, and asked how he was managing with Imogene, and then smiled indulgently when he played with her, as if he was doing something rare and unusual. When he got out a baby wipe and cleaned her face and hands after snack time, one of the women said, ‘Look at that! So clever!' As if he was a small child himself. He couldn't believe that they all still lived in a society with such divided gender roles. Did their husbands not play with their kids? Was a man caring competently for his child such a rare thing that it merited comment?

That Friday afternoon, he took both kids to the park. He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little bored, and while they played he caught himself surreptitiously checking Twitter on his phone. He'd always thought parents who stood around in the park staring at their phones were terrible people, but he was beginning to understand that watching Zach climb the wrong way up the slide and then launch his way back down head-first over and over, or pushing Imi endlessly on the swing was not the most stimulating thing he had ever done. He was relieved when he saw Holly's sister
Miranda come into the playground with her kids. At least here was someone he could talk to.

He hadn't seen her for ages, and he was surprised at how thin and pale she looked. She'd always been quite round, even a bit dumpy, but she had lost quite a lot of weight – maybe two or three stone – and not in a good way, Lee thought. It didn't look like healthy exercise and diet-inspired weight loss, more like the weight had fallen off because she wasn't eating, or sleeping. Her clothes were hanging loose, and she had dark shadows under her eyes. He knew it must be worry and strain about her mum. Her kids seemed unaffected, and he saw that little Oscar had just started walking. He was barrelling around the play area with that slightly forward stance and lurching walk brand-new toddlers use. He was a dear little chap, built like a prop forward, and he was cackling away to himself with pride at his new achievement. It was enough to make anyone smile, and Lee looked up and caught Miranda's eye and grinned. She managed a weak little smile, but looked as if tears weren't too far away. Lee went straight over. ‘You look like you could use a coffee.'

‘Do I look that bad?' she said, shocked. Lee could have kicked himself.

‘No, not at all,' he said quickly. ‘Sorry, that definitely came out wrong. You look a bit tired, that's all, and I know you've been having a tough time.' She managed a weak smile.

‘I'm sure I look rough as anything. And I'm knackered. Yes, I would love a coffee, but we've just got here, so I can't really drag the kids off …'

‘You stay here,' said Lee. ‘If you wouldn't mind keeping half an eye on Zach, I'll go and get us a couple of takeaways.'

She smiled gratefully and nodded. Imi was playing in the little sandpit, so he scooped her up and popped her in the pushchair, then made a dash to the coffee shop and returned with two lattes and a couple of chocolate brownies.

The kids all seemed content to get on with their own thing and he and Miranda sat side by side on the bench, sipping their coffee. She held her cup with both hands as if she was cold. Lee didn't say anything, just sat quietly beside her. After a few minutes he took the bag with the brownies out of his jacket pocket and slid them across the bench to her. She peeked inside and managed her first real smile of the day.

‘My favourite. How did you know?'

‘You ordered one when we had coffee ages ago, that time I was looking after the kids when Jo went on her business course,' Lee said. ‘I remembered you liked them.'

She stared at him like he was an alien who had emerged from his spaceship and come to sit on her bench. ‘You remember that? It was months ago. Maybe a year?'

‘Was it?' Lee said, a little embarrassed.

‘You're the only man I've ever met who would notice stuff like that,' said Miranda. ‘I've been married to Paul for twelve years. I don't think he could tell you what my favourite dessert was if you held a gun to his head.'

Lee glanced at her, a little surprised at how bitter she sounded. In his limited experience Miranda had always been gushy, a bit superficial perhaps, but always sweetness and light.

He sat quietly for another minute or so. Eventually, he said, ‘I'm sorry. What you're going through, you and Holly, and your family … it must be so hard. How are you coping?'

‘Holly is being amazing,' Miranda says. ‘She has it much harder than me. She's there all the time with Mum, and it's so difficult.' She stopped short, as if she might have said more but had thought better of it.

‘It can't be easy for any of you,' said Lee gently.

‘I just wish I could do more,' said Miranda. ‘I wish I could do anything. But every time I see Mum, I get so upset. She looks worse every time, even if it's only a day or so since I last saw her.' She took a sip of her coffee, and then the words started to spill out of her. ‘My time with her is so limited … I always have the kids to worry about, and getting someone to look after them while I drive to Ealing and spend time with Mum and drive back … I worry all the way there and all the way back and the whole time I'm there … what if they need me? What if I can't get back in time? And then I feel bad, because I'm worrying about traffic on the North Circular, not giving Mum my full attention, and then there's all the things I used to do … the groups I was in and the PTA at the school, and just running my own household … Paul's dry-cleaning and shopping and cooking … and sometimes I let things slip and I feel bad about that too …'

What the hell was Paul doing through all this? Lee found himself thinking. Was he moaning at his wife that she hadn't collected his dry-cleaning while she tried to care for her dying mother and his children too? A tear brimmed over and slipped down her cheek. She turned away, mortified. ‘I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to go on at you. You barely know me. Now there's another thing I can add to my list of things I'm doing wrong … ranting at strange men in the park.'

Lee put his coffee down and grasped her hand and held it on the bench between them. ‘Okay, firstly, I'm not a strange man. Because of Jo and Holly, I do know what you're going through and I asked you how you were doing. And secondly, you're doing amazingly well. You're doing everything you could possibly do, and more. Give yourself a break.'

She looked down at her hand in his, and managed a little smile. ‘Thanks. That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in I don't know how long.' She gave his hand a little squeeze, then took her hand away and busied herself with getting a tissue out of her handbag. Lee looked up and saw that over by the swings there was a little cluster of women who had obviously been watching them. One leaned over and whispered to her friend. Fine, he thought. Let them gossip. If they were going to read evil intentions into him comforting a woman with a dying mother, then they needed to go and get themselves lives.

Things at home continued to be difficult, but manageable. Judith's pain was better controlled, but she was very weak, and needed Holly on hand in case she needed to go to the toilet. Sometimes she even needed help to sit up in bed or roll over. Holly had never imagined she would care for another person's intimate needs until she was a mother. If you'd asked her six months before how she would feel about helping her mum pull her pants up, or wash in the shower, she'd have been horrified. But it had to be done, and in a funny way, it seemed like the most loving thing she had ever done.

Judith slept for long periods now, and often there wasn't anything to do but sit there in case she woke up and wanted anything. Because she was on morphine, her dreams were very vivid and she was often a little confused. She'd wake with a start and say something seemingly random.

‘We can paint them terracotta!' she once said brightly.

‘Paint what, Mum?' asked Holly.

‘What?' said Judith. ‘What are you talking about, Holly?' And when Holly tried to explain that she was answering
Judith, and asked more questions to see if she could find out what should be painted terracotta, Judith lay back on her pillows, and said angrily, ‘Well, I don't know. I don't know what needs painting, and what is terracotta anyway?'

When she was awake and compos mentis, however, she wanted Holly to talk to her. She loved to hear about Holly's time in South Africa, about the markets where she worked, and the homes and gardens. She was fascinated to hear that many people had swimming pools in their gardens.

‘My goodness,' she said once, ‘It sounds as if the sun really does shine all the time there.'

‘Pretty much,' said Holly. ‘You could probably wear a sundress and sandals for eight months of the year.'

‘Oh my, Holly,' sighed Judith. ‘I do so wish I had come out to visit you when you were there.'

‘I wish you had too, Mum,' said Holly. At the time, she hadn't been surprised that Judith never made the trip, and she hadn't missed her particularly. But when she thought about it now, she'd have loved to introduce her mum to some of her friends, take her shopping, widen her perspective. Judith seemed to have lived such a small life, and now it was too late to change that. It was no substitute, but Holly put together a slideshow of photos from her time in Johannesburg (edited to exclude any shots of Damon). She put it on her iPad and sat on the edge of Judith's bed, her arm behind her mum's thin shoulders, going through the pictures with her. Judith sighed at the landscapes, wanted to know all about Holly's friends, and exclaimed with joy at the pictures of Holly's Doradolla designs. It seemed to give her so much
pleasure and pride. Why had Holly never done this before? For the life of her, she couldn't imagine.

It had been three weeks since she had last seen him, and Holly had not managed to have another date with Fraser. They had hoped to get together on the Sunday night after their first date, but Holly's mum had come home from the hospice that day. Since then, fate seemed to be conspiring against them. Whenever Holly could snatch some time away from the house, Fraser was working, or had Finlay with him. It was very frustrating not seeing him, but the anticipation made Holly want him more, and she was enjoying getting to know him better through their phone and text conversations. There was no doubt that the heat between them was still very real; they spoke on the phone every day, and sent a lot of text messages in between. These started out flirtatious and ended up downright filthy. They even shared a few late-night phone-calls which left them both gasping and desperate to be together.

Miranda helped with Judith as much as she could, but she could only manage a few hours on a weekday morning when her kids were at nursery and at the childminder's. Holly toyed with the idea of asking her to come one evening to sit with their mum when the kids were asleep, but she would have to explain why, and she somehow didn't think Miranda would be thrilled to mum-sit while she went out to shag a still-officially-married man.

David was no help at all. He hadn't even visited for the last few weeks. It wasn't as if he didn't care – he rang at least three times a week, and kept trying to buy things and pay for things, and he was always very willing to ring people
in the care system and yell at them – but when he did come, he just didn't know what to do. He seemed to find the sight of Judith intensely distressing, and he just couldn't sit quietly beside her. He wanted to do things, to bustle around and make things happen. Privately, Holly found it easier when he wasn't there. His agitation was infectious and she found herself more focused on him than on Judith's needs.

Christopher Benton, true to his word, came by twice a week and worked in the garden. Holly had given him a key to the side gate, and he would quietly let himself in, mow the lawn, trim the edges, weed and tidy, and then let himself out. When Holly was in her mum's bedroom and looked out of the window, she would see him working industriously and neatly. However, every now and then he would glance up at Judith's window, his face full of yearning and concern. It seemed to Holly as if Judith was a princess locked in a tower, and he was a humble gardener without a hope of rescuing her. Or maybe Holly was over-romanticising the whole thing. Maybe he was just short-sighted. If Holly was there and not busy with Judith, she would go out and offer him a cup of tea. He would sometimes accept, but he would never come into the house. ‘Don't want to track mud into your kitchen,' he'd say, and even though Holly protested that she didn't mind, he was adamant. She had told Judith a few times that Christopher was coming, but it didn't seem to have sunk in.

One day, however, Judith was slightly more alert and bright than she had been, and she asked to sit by the window. With a great deal of effort, they had got the enormous recliner up to her room, and it was a comfortable place for her to sit when she was up to it. She was enjoying the rays of spring
sunshine on her face when Christopher started up the lawnmower outside. Judith opened her eyes and asked, ‘What was that?'