Twenty-one

Vanessa was preparing mushrooms, cutting the end from the stalk and slicing through the fleshy texture, while Andrew fried the onions. Their tang hung in the air and although it was a cold day, Vanessa reached up and opened the window.

Andrew turned to her, wrinkling his nose. ‘They do pong a bit.’

Vanessa loved working together in the kitchen like this. One of them was usually the boss and one the skivvy: preparing vegetables, washing up, stirring sauces. Today Andrew was boss. ‘You’re bound to want time for prettying the house, flowers, candles – you know how you are when we have visitors.’

‘I like it to look nice.’

Andrew put his arm round her shoulders, leaving a floury imprint of his fingers on her jumper. ‘And I love you for it.’ He touched her lips gently with his.

‘Oops!’ He pulled away, as an ominous smell rose up behind them.

She watched his back as he bent over the saucepan. He’d had his long hair cut short and the skin of his neck looked unnaturally pale and tender. She wanted to press her mouth against that little hollow at the bottom of the hairline like she used to with the children when they were babies.

‘What time are they arriving?’ Steam spiralled around Andrew’s head.

‘Lizzie thought about six.’

‘Dinner at seven, then?’ He flipped the tea cloth over his shoulder and slid some cubes of beef into the saucepan. They sizzled and fizzed.

‘Okay. Cordelia’s going out, thank God – she’s in a vile mood today, and I’ve bribed Esme to play with Jake until he goes to bed.’

Andrew laughed. ‘What’s the bribe?’

‘A Queen tape.’

‘Did you have to?’

‘I wanted to make sure we got some peace.’ Vanessa went over and put her arms round Andrew’s waist. She rested her head against his back. The material of his thick cotton shirt was soft and fleecy. She rubbed her cheek against it.

He twisted round, and took her face in his hands. ‘Hey, you sound anxious. Are you worried about this visit?’

Vanessa screwed up her face. Andrew’s gaze was so direct, so honest, it was hard sometimes to meet it.

‘Come on, what is it?’

‘I think the meat’s burning.’

He spun round and shifted the saucepan to another ring. ‘That’s sorted. Now tell me what’s worrying you.’

She picked at imaginary pieces of fluff on his shirt. ‘My life was a mess when I knew Lizzie. I want her to see things have changed … how happy I am … how wonderful you are.’ She met his eyes. ‘That sounds goofy, doesn’t it?’

He bent forward so that he could reach her mouth. She tasted herbs, basil, on his lips where he must have licked his finger. She took his hand and lifted it to her face. Closing her mouth round his finger, she moved her lips gently up and down it.

‘Whatever goofy is,’ he said, ‘I like it.’

Vanessa went upstairs and took clean sheets and pillowcases from the airing cupboard. She and Andrew had a room at the back of the house. It was tiny – you had to inch your way between the wall and the bed to climb into it – but Vanessa loved the way the roof sloped low over the window and honeysuckle scented the room on summer evenings.

She plumped up the pillows and smoothed down the bedcover, letting her hand linger on its satiny material. She wasn’t sure she wanted to give it up for Lizzie and Sadie, but the Lizzie who’d returned from the States was even more determined than the one who had left: ‘I’d like you to meet my friend, Nessa,’ she’d said on the phone. ‘Her name’s Sadie. We’re lovers.’

‘Why do you think she announced that?’ Vanessa asked Andrew.

‘So there wouldn’t be any misunderstandings,’ Andrew said. ‘We’d better give them our room. If they’re lucky, some of our magic will rub off on them.’

Sadie was short and plump with blonde candyfloss hair. She was wearing a pink tracksuit and knee-high white boots. She was scarcely five foot and Vanessa had to smother a laugh when she saw her standing on the door step next to six-foot Lizzie, who was dressed as always from head to toe in black. During dinner, she cast covert glances at Sadie’s enormous bosom. She imagined Lizzie, who was skinnier than ever, disappearing into its soft mounds.

Sadie spooned up the last of her gravy. ‘That was divine, Andy. You’re some cook.’

Vanessa opened her mouth to correct the name, but felt Andrew’s foot meet her shin bone and shut it again.

Sadie wiped her lips with a napkin. ‘If I’d met a guy back home who could cook like this, I wouldn’t have needed to be a dyke!’ She opened her mouth wide and laughed.

Vanessa stared at her pink tongue.

Sadie elbowed Lizzie, who was putting a piece of carrot in her mouth. ‘What do you think, babe?’

‘Just because a man can cook doesn’t mean we’ve solved the problems of patriarchal culture.’

‘Patriarchy, matriarchy, wackyarchy … do you know she’s so clever, Ness, honey. I look at her sometimes up on the platform giving her speeches and I think, wow – that gal’s all mine!’

‘Vanessa and Andrew don’t want to hear that stuff, Sadie.’

‘Babe, lighten up. We’re with friends here.’ Sadie beamed showing a perfect set of straight white teeth.

Vanessa glanced across at Lizzie. She was biting her bottom lip, a habit Vanessa remembered. ‘Are you going to stay in the States permanently, Lizzie?’

‘It’s where the most exciting work is. I’m involved with the anti-pornography campaign at the moment.’

‘She’s a key member,’ Sadie put in.

Lizzie kept her eyes on a piece of meat she was chasing round the plate with her fork. ‘The main problem is the kids.’

‘Why?’

‘They’re not happy.’ Lizzie’s voice was flat. ‘I’m thinking of sending them back to the UK.’

‘Really?’

‘Alan’s been badgering me for custody. I might let him try coping with the three of them.’

Vanessa took a sip of wine. The old Lizzie would never have contemplated giving up her children. ‘What do they want?’ she asked.

‘Communication’s not their strong point. How about you and the girls? Do you get on?’

‘We have our moments,’ Vanessa said. ‘Esme’s fine; Cordelia’s usually angry about something, but she’s better than she used to be when we were in London. Too many memories there, I think.’

‘Say, this is heavy stuff,’ Sadie said. ‘I thought this was a party.’

‘And so it is.’ Andrew pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘More wine anyone?’

Sadie beamed up at him. ‘Great idea.’ She turned to Vanessa. ‘Honey, I adore this sweater you’re wearing. Is it designer?’

‘I designed it,’ Vanessa said. She had on a black jumper with a deep pointed V and a bold zigzag pattern in yellow running across it. ‘I call it the bumblebee.’

‘I’d love one like that to take home with me.’

‘I’ll knit you one.’

‘Can you do that?’

‘I knitted this.’

‘Gee, you’re some babe.’

‘You still knit then, Vanessa?’ Lizzie’s eyebrows arched higher than ever.

‘Yes, I’ve set up my own hand knits company. I do the designs and I employ two knitters.’

‘I didn’t realise you could earn a living from knitting.’

Lizzie’s tone made Vanessa bridle: ‘I think of myself as a fashion designer rather than someone who knits,’ she said and looked quickly at Andrew, who’d returned with more wine, wondering if she sounded too precious. He winked at her. ‘I love colour and shape. I’m into three-dimensional stitches at the moment.’

‘Where do you sell them?’

‘Various places.’

‘She’s too modest,’ Andrew said. ‘She’s got shops in Oxford, Bath and Cheltenham who take them. Can’t keep up with the demand.’ His hand found Vanessa’s under the table and squeezed it.

Vanessa and Andrew listened to the murmur of voices from the room above.

‘What do you think they’re talking about?’ Vanessa whispered.

Andrew turned on his side and nuzzled his nose against her cheek. ‘Probably saying how clever you are. Lizzie looked impressed when I said how popular your designs are.’ Andrew’s fingers circled the curve of Vanessa’s breast. ‘She’s scary, isn’t she?’

‘She’s got high expectations of people.’ Vanessa struggled on to her right shoulder – moving about on the inflatable mattress that was their bed for the night was like being enveloped in sponge. ‘Seeing her reminds me how badly I let Gerald treat me.’ From the dull glow of the streetlight through the curtains, she stared at Andrew’s face trying to make out his expression.

‘It’s okay.’ He rubbed his nose from side to side against hers. ‘I’m feeling strong. You can talk about the bastard if you want to.’

She fastened her arms round Andrew’s neck and wriggled closer to him: toes entwined, knees bony against each other, bellies pushed together until perspiration trickled between them, her breasts squashed against his chest. She felt his penis stir against her thigh.

‘I don’t want to talk about him,’ she said.

‘Good.’

‘But … ’

He made a noise into the pillow. She couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a groan.

‘I thought it was too good to be true,’ he said.

She drew his head towards her again. ‘Andrew, it’s you I love, you know that.’ She raised her fingers to his face, tracing the outline of his mouth.

‘I still feel jealous sometimes.’

‘Don’t be. I never think about him.’

‘Never?’

‘All right. Rarely. But seeing Lizzie again makes him -’ Vanessa felt Andrew’s hands cupping her face. His palms were warm and seemed to set her cheeks on fire.

‘Sometimes when I think about him …’ Andrew’s breath fanned against Vanessa’s mouth. His words insinuated themselves between her lips and burnt on her tongue. ‘I’m not a violent man but when I think how he treated you.’

‘Ssh!’ She ran her fingers down the hollow of his spine. ‘Don’t say it! Don’t think it!’

‘I don’t want anything to happen to us, Vanessa.’

‘It won’t. I promise.’ She stroked his hair back from his forehead, trying to soothe him as she did Jake when he was upset. She felt his limbs soften. His breathing grew slower and deeper. She began to drift off to sleep.

Suddenly Andrew gripped her shoulders.

‘What?’ She was wide-awake.

‘Listen.’

She lifted her head from the pillow. ‘I can’t hear anything.’

‘Exactly. They’ve stopped talking.’

‘Do you think they’ve gone to sleep?’

‘Or they’re hanging naked from the lampshades.’

‘You mean sex?’

‘You wouldn’t want to waste a bosom like Sadie’s, would you? I could get lost for a week in there.’

‘Andrew!’

‘Sorry, but you must admit it’s rather luscious. And talking of luscious breasts … ’ His head burrowed under the blanket, and she felt his lips close over her nipple.

An oak bench at the far end of the garden was screened by rose bushes in summer. A fence ran behind it, marking the boundary between the garden and a footpath. Clematis with white starry flowers swarmed over it, and a rambler rose scented the air. It was a private space – the children rarely went down there – and Vanessa liked to slip away at odd moments in the day and spend some time alone.

In winter the feeling of privacy disappeared. The bench was clearly visible from the cottage, and anyone walking along the footpath could see over the fence into the garden. Vanessa would stand at the kitchen window, gazing at the bench, imagining the spring and summer to come.

A day or so after Lizzie and Sadie’s stay, she arrived home after visiting the shops that sold her knitwear. She dropped the bag containing her designs in the hall, pulling off her jacket as she went into the kitchen. She crossed to the sink to fill the kettle.

Her eyes sought out ‘her spot’ at the bottom of the garden. She blinked. She turned off the tap and put the kettle down. She looked again. Yes, there was someone down there. She hesitated. An old woman in the village sometimes stood on the footpath, peering over the fence. Could it be her? Could she have unlocked the gate and got into the garden? She went to the back door and stepped on to the patio. From here, Jake’s swing and a buddleia obscured her view. A gust of wind tugged at her clothes.

‘Hello?’ Her voice sounded thin and reedy and she tried again with more authority: ‘Hello!’

Through the buddleia, she caught sight of movement. A man emerged on the path. In the twilight he seemed to be entirely black: long black coat, black hair, most of his face obscured by a black beard. He wasn’t very tall but he seemed stocky. He drew closer, and then he smiled.

‘My God!’ Vanessa whispered. ‘It’s you.’

‘Hello.’

‘What the hell are you doing creeping round my garden?’

‘There was no one in.’ He moved forward with that swaying walk she remembered so well. He was standing in front of her. He held out his hands and without knowing she was going to, she placed hers in his. The skin of his palms and fingers was rough, as it always was, and the touch propelled her into another time, another place.

‘Gerald.’

He put his arms round her and pulled her to him. That smell. His face was close to hers. It was a shock. She was used to Andrew, so much taller – their faces only on the same level in bed. He began to kiss her. His beard chafed her skin. His lips forced hers open.

She jerked away from him, but he was strong. His arms gripped her. She put her hands flat on his chest and pushed. He stumbled, his dark eyes wide. ‘What’s wrong?’

Her pulse thudded in her ears. ‘Why are you here?’

‘I wanted to see Cordy and Esme. And you, definitely you.’

‘You know I’m with Andrew now.’

‘At the moment.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I intend to get you back.’

It was as if a thunderclap sounded directly overhead. The air around her vibrated with his words: get you back … get you … back … back. The echo became jumbled with her own no … no … no, like crossed wires on the telephone.

‘Go away.’

He laughed. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Gerald phoned the next day. He wanted to take Cordelia and Esme out for dinner. The table was booked for eight o’clock.

‘That’s too late,’ Vanessa told him. ‘They’ve got school tomorrow.’

His laugh came down the line, the sound an intimate connection between them. ‘One day off won’t hurt.’

She could hear him breathing, and she held the receiver away from her ear. ‘Just don’t think you can turn up unannounced and take centre stage.’

‘You mean if I’d told you I was coming, you’d have fallen into my arms?’

Vanessa caught sight of her face. The mirror on the hallstand was old and speckled where the silver backing was damaged, but even so she could see the livid spots of colour on her cheeks. She imagined Andrew’s reaction when she told him: I knew he’d be back one day. She had to get off this phone. ‘It’s Cordelia and Esme’s decision,’ she said. ‘If they want to see you, I’m not going to stop them. But if they don’t – ’

‘They’re not going to turn down a swanky meal out, are they?’

‘You might not be able to buy them off as easily as you think, Gerald. You hurt them badly when you went.’ And me, she wanted to scream. Have you any idea how much you hurt me?

‘Why do you think I’m here?’ His voice was soft and glossy. She knew that voice, knew its tones, its cadences, spilling magic into her ear: Come on, my darling one … that’s beautiful … yes, oh yes … you’re coming now … I can feel it …

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her teeth were clamped together.

‘I want to make it up to you all.’ His voice was ordinary now, deep, that slight foreign inflection, but no magic.

She opened her eyes. ‘You can pick them up at seven.’

He arrived at six-thirty. The noise of the brass bell jangled through the cottage. Vanessa was upstairs giving Jake a bath, and Andrew was in the kitchen preparing supper. She’d planned to be downstairs when Gerald came, to hurry Cordelia and Esme out of the door, so that Andrew wouldn’t have to see him. She lifted Jake from the bath and wrapped a towel round him, all the time listening: to Andrew’s footsteps crossing the hall, to the creaking of the front door, the mingling of male voices. What on earth were they saying to each other? She towelled Jake’s hair and pulled on his pyjamas. ‘Play in your room for a few minutes,’ she said to him. ‘Mummy will be back for your story.’

She hurried across the landing. Laughter and the smell of perfume wafted from Cordelia and Esme’s room. Esme scarcely remembered her father and hadn’t been sure when Vanessa told them he was back and wanted to take them out, but Cordelia’s face had shone as if a light had been switched on inside her.

She was standing in front of the mirror, hand on one hip, head cocked to the side. Her hair was backcombed into a frizzy fan shape; dark blue eye shadow and bilberry-coloured lipstick made her look as if she’d been in a fight. Her eyes didn’t move from her reflection. ‘What do you think?’

Vanessa took in the skin-tight jeans covered in silver sparkly bits, the denim jacket, the white boots with their red stitching. She forced her lips into a smile. ‘Pretty, darling, you look really pretty.’

‘Do you think Dad will like it?’

It grated that Cordelia still referred to Gerald as Dad, while she had to make do with Vanessa. ‘I’m sure he will.’

She turned to Esme, dressed in the pretty blue skirt and lacy blouse they’d bought for a friend’s wedding. ‘You look lovely too, darling. Now you’d better go: your father’s waiting.’ She kissed them. Esme put her arms round her, but Cordelia pulled her head away, so that Vanessa was left kissing her ear.

‘Don’t let him keep you out too late,’ she called down the stairs after them. She leant over the banisters. Gerald was standing in the hall staring up. He put his fingers to his mouth and blew her a kiss. The sensation of his warm breath seemed to skim across her cheek.

She listened to the sound of voices from the street outside, then the taxi pulling away. She went into Jake to read him his story. She nestled close to him on the bed, tucking her arm round his shoulders. She opened the book and began to read.

She’d got to the third line when he interrupted: ‘Have you been running, Mummy?’

‘No, why?’

‘You’re breathing all sort of funny and I can hear your heart beating.’

In the kitchen Andrew was at the cooker. He didn’t look round when she came in. She hesitated. Was he ignoring her deliberately? Punishing her for somehow making Gerald reappear? She stared at his back. One of his shoulders was raised where he was stirring something in a saucepan. It made his shoulder blades more pronounced than ever.

She crossed the kitchen to him. ‘Are you okay?’

‘If you count being patronised by that bastard as okay, then, yes, I’m fine.’ He continued to circle the saucepan with the spoon.

Vanessa slipped her hand under his shirt. His skin was warm and smooth. She rubbed the little hollow at the base of his spine. ‘What did he say?’

‘Some shit about admiring a man who’s confident in the kitchen, but he’s more of a bedroom man himself.’

‘He’s only jealous.’

Andrew let the spoon clatter into the saucepan. Flecks of tomato sauce spattered his grey shirt. ‘Precisely. And what’s he jealous of?’

‘He can see you’re making a success of your life. You’ve got a nice home and people who love you.’

Andrew shook his head. ‘You don’t get it, do you? He’s jealous of me because I’ve got you.’

Heat spread across Vanessa’s chest and up into her neck. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s probably got any number of women – ’

‘But not the one he wants.’ Andrew caught hold of her arms. She could feel his nails through her jumper. ‘He’s come back for you, Vanessa. And he won’t give up without a fight.’

Andrew went up to bed at nine o’clock. ‘I’m going to read.’

‘I’ll wait up for the girls,’ Vanessa said. ‘They shouldn’t be long.’ But Andrew had already disappeared. It was the first time ever he hadn’t kissed her goodnight.

It was eleven by the time Cordelia and Esme arrived home, full of their evening.

Cordelia perched on the kitchen table, swinging her legs from side to side, while Vanessa made some drinking chocolate. ‘Dad says we’re going to be a family again,’ she announced, her eyes wide, the pupils dilated.

‘Steady on,’ Vanessa said. ‘Don’t I get some say in this?’

‘Dad said you’d be sure to say yes.’

‘To what exactly?’

‘He’s going to buy a big house for us all.’

Vanessa eyed the ceiling. ‘Keep your voice down, Cordelia – you’ll wake Andrew. Anyway, we’ve already got a house.’

‘And he wants to take us on holiday. You will say yes, won’t you?’

Vanessa planted mugs of chocolate on the table. ‘Can you get off here? You’re going to knock the drinks over.’

Cordelia jumped down and pulled a chair close to Vanessa’s. She caught hold of her hands and squeezed them. ‘I’ll love you forever if you do.’

Esme stood behind Vanessa, arm draped round her shoulder. ‘Dad said we could go somewhere like Argentina. Lucy Bates would be dead jealous. She never stopped going on about her holiday in Majorca.’

‘What about Andrew?’ Vanessa asked, keeping her voice light. The last thing she wanted was for Cordelia and Esme to see the panic flapping round her brain like a captive bird. ‘How do you think he’ll feel if we go off on holiday with Gerald?’

‘He can come too,’ Esme said. ‘And Jake. It’ll be great.’

‘Don’t be stupid!’ Cordelia’s voice cut in before Vanessa had a chance to reply. ‘Course they can’t come. It’ll just be the four of us.’

‘I’m not going without Andrew and Jake,’ Esme insisted.

‘You idiot!’ Cordelia turned her back on Esme. ‘Vanessa, Dad said to tell you’ – she looked full of self-importance – ‘he’ll be here at eleven tomorrow.’ She kneaded Vanessa’s hands between her own. ‘He’s going to take you out to some posh restaurant.’