on. And my sheets – I hate not having my sheets changed.’
‘I can do it, if you like.’
‘Would you, dear?’Jean smiled for the first time since her daughter’s arrival, revealing the small pearly teeth of which she was still, justifiably, very proud. ‘That would be kind.’ She dabbed at the tight white curls of her perm, her blue eyes glistening with gratitude.
‘No problem.’ Charlotte could feel her patience running out, just as she had known it would. It did not help that she was feeling ill again, close to throwing up in fact. She pressed her half-eaten mash and fish to one side of her plate and laid down her knife and fork.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘Not very, I’m afraid. Actually, I’ve been a little –’
‘Jasper! Here, darling. Look what the naughty Charlotte has left for you.’
Charlotte bit her lip and folded her arms while her plate was scooped from in front of her and set on the floor. The dachshund clambered out of his wicker nest and trotted across to the treat, his too-long claws, splayed with age, scraping audibly on the lino.
‘I’ve got cake for pudding. A nice sponge – do you have room for that ?’
‘A small piece, Mum, yes, please,’ Charlotte muttered, trying not to watch the dog’s pink tongue work its way across the lumps of fish, despairing at how one could feel so trapped by someone one knew so well. ‘But I can’t stay that long, I’m afraid – Martin is dropping Sam back early today.’
‘Charlotte – forgive me – but is there really no hope for you two?’ Jean burst out, flinging both arms outwards to emphasize her exasperation.
Charlotte stared at her slice of cake, which was sizeable – much larger than her mother’s – with a gluey fissure of scarlet jam running through the middle. She thought, with uncharacteristic longing, of the Madeira to which she was usually subjected: plain, at least, not too sweet, though that, too, could stick in the throat.
‘Charlotte?’Jean had her cake fork poised. This, Charlotte knew, was her idea of a motherly moment.
‘Mum…’ She folded her napkin and ran her fingers along the fresh crease. ‘Our decree nisi has come through. Martin is living with someone else now.’
‘I know, dear, but…’
‘Someone with whom he had an affair during our marriage –’
‘Aha – but he always denied that, didn’t he? He said it was just friendship, didn’t he? That ridiculous little note, wasn’t it?’ She jabbed the air with her fork. ‘A child – a boy – needs his father…’
Charlotte could feel the dizziness coming back. She pressed the edge of her spoon down through her cake, forcing the jam to dribble from its seam.
‘There are ups and downs in any marriage, Charlotte.’
‘As you would know, Mum, wouldn’t you? Because –’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Charlotte tried to swallow. The cake was in clods at the back of her throat. Some deep protective reflex had snagged the rest of the sentence; a reflex connected to the expression on her mother’s face, now slack with dismay and something else… Fear. ‘I just meant… ups and downs… I… Excuse me – I think I might –’
She ran with her hand over her mouth, up the stairs and along the landing to the bathroom. Jasper, excited, scuttled after her, butting her heels with his nose. There was no time to shut the door or to think of anything but grippingthe rim of the lavatory to steady herself through the spasms.
‘Jasper, out.’
From the corner of her eye Charlotte saw the walking-stick nudge the dog into the corridor and the door close. I am alone, she thought, thank God. But a moment later the tap was running and then her hair was being held back for her and a warm flannel pressed gently to her forehead.
‘You poor child. There, better now. A sip of water when you’re ready. I thought you looked a little peaky. I hope it wasn’t the fish.’
Charlotte sat back on her heels, shaking her head as she blew her nose on some
‘I can do it, if you like.’
‘Would you, dear?’Jean smiled for the first time since her daughter’s arrival, revealing the small pearly teeth of which she was still, justifiably, very proud. ‘That would be kind.’ She dabbed at the tight white curls of her perm, her blue eyes glistening with gratitude.
‘No problem.’ Charlotte could feel her patience running out, just as she had known it would. It did not help that she was feeling ill again, close to throwing up in fact. She pressed her half-eaten mash and fish to one side of her plate and laid down her knife and fork.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘Not very, I’m afraid. Actually, I’ve been a little –’
‘Jasper! Here, darling. Look what the naughty Charlotte has left for you.’
Charlotte bit her lip and folded her arms while her plate was scooped from in front of her and set on the floor. The dachshund clambered out of his wicker nest and trotted across to the treat, his too-long claws, splayed with age, scraping audibly on the lino.
‘I’ve got cake for pudding. A nice sponge – do you have room for that ?’
‘A small piece, Mum, yes, please,’ Charlotte muttered, trying not to watch the dog’s pink tongue work its way across the lumps of fish, despairing at how one could feel so trapped by someone one knew so well. ‘But I can’t stay that long, I’m afraid – Martin is dropping Sam back early today.’
‘Charlotte – forgive me – but is there really no hope for you two?’ Jean burst out, flinging both arms outwards to emphasize her exasperation.
Charlotte stared at her slice of cake, which was sizeable – much larger than her mother’s – with a gluey fissure of scarlet jam running through the middle. She thought, with uncharacteristic longing, of the Madeira to which she was usually subjected: plain, at least, not too sweet, though that, too, could stick in the throat.
‘Charlotte?’Jean had her cake fork poised. This, Charlotte knew, was her idea of a motherly moment.
‘Mum…’ She folded her napkin and ran her fingers along the fresh crease. ‘Our decree nisi has come through. Martin is living with someone else now.’
‘I know, dear, but…’
‘Someone with whom he had an affair during our marriage –’
‘Aha – but he always denied that, didn’t he? He said it was just friendship, didn’t he? That ridiculous little note, wasn’t it?’ She jabbed the air with her fork. ‘A child – a boy – needs his father…’
Charlotte could feel the dizziness coming back. She pressed the edge of her spoon down through her cake, forcing the jam to dribble from its seam.
‘There are ups and downs in any marriage, Charlotte.’
‘As you would know, Mum, wouldn’t you? Because –’
‘I beg your pardon?’
Charlotte tried to swallow. The cake was in clods at the back of her throat. Some deep protective reflex had snagged the rest of the sentence; a reflex connected to the expression on her mother’s face, now slack with dismay and something else… Fear. ‘I just meant… ups and downs… I… Excuse me – I think I might –’
She ran with her hand over her mouth, up the stairs and along the landing to the bathroom. Jasper, excited, scuttled after her, butting her heels with his nose. There was no time to shut the door or to think of anything but grippingthe rim of the lavatory to steady herself through the spasms.
‘Jasper, out.’
From the corner of her eye Charlotte saw the walking-stick nudge the dog into the corridor and the door close. I am alone, she thought, thank God. But a moment later the tap was running and then her hair was being held back for her and a warm flannel pressed gently to her forehead.
‘You poor child. There, better now. A sip of water when you’re ready. I thought you looked a little peaky. I hope it wasn’t the fish.’
Charlotte sat back on her heels, shaking her head as she blew her nose on some
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