September Starlings by Ruth Hamilton Page B

for days. ‘Convalescence, then a month by the sea. How are the children?’
    He bangs two mugs on to the table. ‘Tom’s learning the viola. He’s sent Charlie almost completely bald. It’s onething having a parrot who’s a compulsive plucker, but it’s awful watching insanity move in on the poor creature. The noise is dreadful.’
    ‘And Melinda? Is she still missing her mum?’ Robert’s wife died four years ago, because the remedy did not come in time. I have just survived the very problem that deprived a little girl of her mother.
    He stands very still, studies me. ‘Ask her yourself. She likes you, needs someone like you.’
    Here comes the old argument. ‘I’m not moving in with you, Robert.’
    ‘Because of how it would look? Because the neighbours wouldn’t like it?’
    It’s hopeless. He’s so infantile, so determined and stubborn. ‘I don’t want to take Carol’s place. I couldn’t. And I am not suitable material anyway. Stepmotherhood is not for me, Robert. I’ve done my stint and I wasn’t terribly good at it.’
    ‘Rubbish.’
    My temper is grumbling like an appendix that threatens to burst. ‘I’ve three kids. One’s an inch from prison, another’s breaking his heart because his boyfriend doesn’t love him any more, while my daughter’s wandering about England trying to find herself. They’re not exactly steady.’
    ‘It’s not your fault.’ His voice raises itself. ‘You didn’t tell Gerald to go out and mix with fraudsters, and Edward’s homosexuality is nothing to do with you. As for Jodie, she’ll give herself the boot up the arse that’s sadly needed. Jodie will come good.’
    I sit and wait while he pours water on to the Nescafé. When he is seated, I try again. ‘Edward’s sexuality is not a problem. It’s the fact that he’s insecure, can’t settle. Edward doesn’t trust anyone to stay with him, and that’s because I didn’t give him enough love and attention. Gerald’s the same, uses money as a crutch. Jodie’s a law unto herself. She modelled herself on me, became selfish and self-indulgent. I do not want any more children in my life. And that is an end of it.’
    He isn’t pleased. It began as a friendship, developed into mutual comfort and companionship after our losses, got out of hand when he fell in love with me. I’m older, wiser, don’t need the kind of stability that Robert seeks. His lower lip protrudes slightly, makes him into a displeased child. ‘I love you,’ he insists.
    ‘Then let me go.’
    He drains the cup in one gulp, must have an asbestos palate. ‘Look after the cat,’ he says brusquely.
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘No, you’re not. This is a great trip for you, turning down a man who’d do just about anything for you. And don’t start the age difference crap, it’s boring. Ten years is nothing, nothing at all. You like me, you enjoy my work, could have a good time helping with the animals. My kids adore you …’ His voice tails away and a hand pushes its way through the tousled mop of hair. ‘I don’t mind waiting. Ben won’t get well, we both know that. And he told you to take a lover if he ever became ill—’
    ‘He didn’t tell me to go and start another life.’
    ‘But you’d still be there for him. You’d still visit him and—’
    Something snaps. ‘I will stay in his house until he dies, Robert. He’s my husband and my best friend. While Ben is in this world, I will be his and he’ll be mine. And that’s not romantic garbage, it’s elemental, a part of who he is, who I am.’ My yelling causes Handel to ruffle slightly, but the kitten slumbers on. Still, if she was born in a shed among a crowd of vicious cats, she’ll be used to noise.
    He is furious, hates my shouting. ‘You don’t bloody know who he is.’
    I should never have told him that. Pillow talk is dangerous, does not look good in the light of day. ‘I might have known that you would use that, Robert. Ben is one of the finest men I’ve