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Dom and Jack transitioned effortlessly from getting up at five to sleeping in till noon as soon as the clock struck teenager. The sadist in me takes great pleasure now in waking them up for school, frequently with the aid of cold water, after a decade of being rudely bounced from my bed before sunrise. ‘I promised I’d go over and help your mother with the party this morning,’ I say. ‘Can you make sure the twins get to footie practice on time?’
‘What’s she need help with? The party’s not for weeks.’
‘She’s invited Andrew andthat woman,’ I say indignantly. ‘Someone has to talk sense into her!’
‘Ah. So not exactlyhelpthen. More like interfere.’
Sidney grabs at the TV remote. ‘Dad! Push play!’
‘Your mother and I are talking,’ Luke says, holding the remote out of Sidney’s reach. ‘Honestly, Min, it’s up to Mum who she invites. I wouldn’t get involved.’
‘I know you wouldn’t,’ I say crossly.
Luke Roberts is the very definition of a good guy. He loves his family, works hard – doing what, I’ve never quite worked out, something unfathomable in IT, I think – and buys me flowers for my birthday, our anniversary, and sometimes for no reason at all. I’ve loved him heart and soul for more than thirty years, ever since he walked into double biology and tripped over my backpack,literally falling at my feet. But he is aggravatingly neutral about everything.Nothingbothers him. He never takes sides, or voices an opinion. Which is all very well, but we can’t all be Switzerland, or the world would be overrun by Nazis.
I’m not saying Celia Roberts is a Nazi, of course. But she could run the Gestapo with one hand tied behind her back. God knows, she’s had to be strong to survive what happened to her family; not many women could go through a tragedy like that and stay on their feet. But that’s no excuse to let her get away with murder. This nonsense with Andrew has to stop. It’s beenfour years. It’s not healthy to keep giving Lou false hope. She insists she’s over Andrew, but she isn’t, not even a little bit. She hasn’t even dated anyone since he left her. We all know howintenseshe can get, and I fear Celia’s started something with this party that won’t end well.
I leave the boys to their dystopian television programme, feed the dog, and drive over to Celia and Brian’s. They’ve lived in the same lovely old stone property on the outskirts of Steyning for nearly forty years; Lou and Luke both grew up there. Celia’s very lucky her children both live so close to her – something my own mother, up in Yorkshire on her own, never tires of reminding me.
My mother-in-law is kneeling by a flowerbed in the front garden when I arrive. She puts down her trowel and stands up when she spots me. ‘Min, how lovely to see you,’ she exclaims, tilting her cheek for me to kiss. ‘Was I expecting you?’
‘I’m sure you were,’ I say dryly.
‘Lemonade, darling? I made it fresh this morning. We can sit on the terrace in the back garden and enjoy the sun.’
I follow her around the side of the house. Brian waves genially in my direction, but doesn’t come over. He’s perfected the art of fading into the background over decades, and, like his son, hasn’t offered an opinion on anything in years.
Celia pours a tall glass of fresh lemonade for each of us, and we settle into a pair of wicker chairs on the veranda, for all the world as if we’re in an episode ofDownton. My eyes water as the tart lemonade hits the back of my throat, but it’s delicious, especially on such a warm day.
‘You’ve got new tomato beds,’ I say, suddenly noticing the rectangle of dark, loamy earth enclosed by old railway ties at the end of the lawn. ‘How wonderful. You’ve wanted a raised bed for ages. When did you have it put in?’
‘Andrew came over last weekend and did it,’ Celia says.
‘Andrewdid it?’
Celia takes a sip of lemonade. ‘You needn’t look so surprised. He knows how to get his hands dirty.’
That’s not what I meant, and she knows it. ‘Yes, but why? What was he doing here?’
‘He often comes over when he’s down this way. He and Brian like to go down to the White Horse for a few beers on a Sunday afternoon. He offered to sortout the flowerbed a few weeks ago, when Brian had that bout of sciatica.’
I feel a rising tide of indignation. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit …odd?’
‘Why? He’s quite handy around the house. Did the whole thing himself in two days.’
She’s being deliberately obtuse. I love my mother-in-law, but sometimes she can beextremelyinfuriating. ‘I honestly don’t understand you, Celia!’ I exclaim. ‘How can you even bear to speak to that man after what he did to Lou? Anyone would think you’re on his side!’
‘Min, darling, it’s very sweet of you to care so much about Louise,’ she says firmly, ‘but I’m not sure that sort of attitude is entirely helpful. Andrew is still part of this family. We didn’t stop loving him just because he stopped loving Louise. He’s been very kind to Brian and me. We’re extremely fond of him. And he’s Tolly and Bella’s father.’
I can’t bear it. I justcan’t. Andrew is so charming and handsome and everyone’s taken in by him, even Celia, even now, after everything he’s done. If she knew what he wasreallylike, she wouldn’t want him and Lou to get back together. She’d stab him with her gardening fork and bury him in a bloody flowerbed.
‘It’s not fair!’ I say angrily. ‘Andrew can’t just dump Lou and still keep you! There should be some … someshame! Some consequences! You can’t destroy someone’s life and be allowed to carry on like nothing’s happened!’
Celia puts down her glass and takes my hot handsin her cool ones, and my vision suddenly blurs. She is truly like a mother to me: I’ve known her more than half my life, ever since I was a teenager, and have spent far more time with her than I have with my own mother, whose chilly, detached temperament is so different from – and incompatible with – my own. Outwardly, Celia may be the epitome of the composed, stiff-upper-lip Englishwoman, but I’ve known her long enough to understand how fiercely passionate she is about people and causes she cares about. I know she’d do anything for Luke or Lou or me; that’s the trouble. She doesn’t realise she’s just making everythingworse.
‘Min,’ Celia says, ‘I appreciate your loyalty to Louise. I do. But Andrew isn’t the devil incarnate. I’m not saying what he did was right—’
‘Well, at least we can agree on that!’
