27

It was a beautiful day in Brighton. Freezing, but clear and sunny. The sea looked glassy. Smooth, and almost still. There were no boats anywhere to be seen. Or people, for that matter. The undercliff was deserted. Cass dug her hands deep into her pockets and crunched across the gravel towards the water. It was probably too cold, she thought. She was clearly the only person stupid enough – or adventurous enough – to think that a run along the front was a good idea in the sub-zero temperature.

She had been shivering non-stop since she’d left home, despite the layers she had piled on top of one another. She was going to have to break into a run just to get warm. Pulling up the hood of her sweat top, she struck out towards the marina.

She liked to run down here whenever she could. Twice, three times a week, maybe. She wasn’t a natural runner. It hurt every time. She had a drawer full of ankle supports and knee stabilizers and blister plasters, and she almost always had to walk part of the way, but nothing else gave her the same feeling of satisfaction. It was all about the moment she got back home, and the smug glow that stayed with her for the rest of the day.

It cleared her mind. That was the main reason she did it. Of course, there was the fitness factor, but she could have achieved that just as well in the gym at the end of her road. Running was all about blasting the cobwebs from inside her head. Making sure she was able to think clearly. It made her better at her job, she was sure of it.

Since Jen Masterson had invited herself into her life, Cass had been coming down here even more frequently. Sometimes just to walk, if she couldn’t face a run. She had thought she was reconciled to her place on the outside of her father’s family. She had had enough years to come to terms with it, after all. She couldn’t believe how much her meeting Jen had unsettled her. It was as if Jen had opened the door to the sacred Masterson family home just enough so that Cass could peek through, and now she couldn’t get the image out of her head.

One scene, in particular, had taken root and kept popping into her consciousness whenever she wasn’t being vigilant. She knew it was something she had created as much from vignettes in old 1940s films and department-store grottos as from anything that had any basis in reality, but she couldn’t shake it. She had never seen her father on Christmas Day. Both she and her mother had always known that that would be out of the question. Over the years, Cass had created the perfect mental video of his family Christmas, in the big Arts and Crafts house in Twickenham that she had once sneaked up to London and looked at the outside of, but had never entered.

She had tweaked the details every year to take into account the ages of his children. Sometimes she would make one of them fat, just to amuse herself. Or surly. She liked to imagine Charles surrounded by stroppy recalcitrant offspring, silently wishing he was spending the day in Iver Heath with his calmer, more compliant, eager-to-please youngest daughter. She hoped that he, at least, missed her.

It was funny, she hadn’t thought about that for years – not since her mum and dad split up, anyway. After that, she had just worked on maintaining a relationship with her father. She had been terrified she would lose him. The rest of his family became an irrelevance. But after her conversation with Jen every bauble, every fairy light she saw set her off. And now that she had the latest images of most of the family firmly lodged in her head, it was easy to reconstruct the whole scenario. She had even caught a glimpse of Amelia on a picture Jen had scrolled through rather quickly. She had looked nice, actually. Sweet-faced and maternal. Just add in a few random grandchildren, and the whole thing was complete. A warm, happy, nuclear-family Christmas.

Cass had seen how shocked Jen had been by her revelations about Charles. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. The foundations on which Jen had constructed her adult life were subsiding into the mud and her perfect existence threatening to go down with them. It had been clear from the look on her face just how much she thought she had to lose.

And then, when she’d called her the other day, she could sense the panic in Jen’s voice. She could understand why. But she had no intention of blowing the whole thing wide open and destroying her dad’s marriage to Amelia. She had never had a vindictive streak, despite all the many fantasies she’d indulged in where Amelia – and occasionally Jason, Poppy and Jessie – contracted terrible disfiguring diseases or conveniently fell under a very big bus. She just wanted to make contact with her half-siblings, that was all. Let them know she existed. She hadn’t really worked out what would happen then. Cass had never been a great one for forward planning.

One day, they might be all she had, that was the point. Surely they would understand that, would know that she wasn’t there to be a home-wrecker. They might not welcome her with open arms – in fact, she wasn’t stupid, she knew they wouldn’t. Quite the opposite, probably, but a door would have been opened. It might take years for one or all of them to come round, so she had to start laying the foundations now.

And if Charles decided he had to take it out on her and her mum, well, that was a risk she was prepared to take. And actually, seeing him at Barbara’s bedside, seeing how concerned he was, how close they still were, she didn’t believe for a minute that he would cut off contact. OK, so he might be angry for a while, but he’d come round. She had to look at the bigger picture, the long game.

The marina still seemed to be an impossible distance away. Usually, she liked to give herself a goal, set a target and force herself to achieve it. Today she decided to let herself off. She turned round and began a slow jog back towards town.

Back at work on Monday, Jen breathed a sigh of relief. The good atmosphere between her and Jason had lasted the whole evening after Emily’s tearful departure, as they picked through the bones of the weekend, happy to be on common ground. She had a two-week respite before she would have to face Charles and Amelia again. Amelia had told her not to even think about their planned Christmas shopping trip while she was so busy at work, and Jen had hugged her tightly, hating how easy it was to pull the wool over her mother-in-law’s eyes.

On Sunday evening, lying in bed with Jason, feeling warm and safe and loved, she had thought, perhaps, that they might have sex, but Jason had simply put his arm round her, pulling her close, kissing the top of her head. She could have initiated it herself, of course. Back in the old days, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But things were different now; this wall had grown up between them, and she couldn’t remember how things had been before, couldn’t locate a sledgehammer to knock it down. She felt awkward, embarrassed, afraid of rejection. She had contented herself with snuggling into his chest, happy to feel some kind, any kind, of connection between them.

‘What the hell?’

Poppy’s voice jolted Jen out of her relative complacency. She didn’t sound happy.

‘What’s wrong?’ Jen put down the sandwich she was eating for lunch, and waited.

She racked her brain for ways in which she might have pissed Poppy off. She hadn’t even spoken to her in nearly a week, because she had been avoiding her calls. Ah, yes, she hadn’t spoken to her in nearly a week, because she had been avoiding her calls. That would be it.

‘I’ve been calling and calling. Where have you been?’

‘Sorry, I’ve been busy, and then Em came home … I’m here now, aren’t I?’

‘You’re supposed to be my best friend. But I went on a date with a strange man – who I met over the internet, as you know – a week ago, and you haven’t even asked me how it went. He could have been a psychopath. I could have been lying dead in a ditch for days, for all you cared.’

Jen always forgot that, deep down, Poppy shared some of Jessie’s tendency for melodrama when pushed. She usually kept it well hidden, too self-aware to let it show. Jen wasn’t in the mood to indulge her.

‘I knew you weren’t dead in a ditch, because I got your messages. I just haven’t had a second to call. I’m really sorry. How was it?’

‘It was fine. I think.’

‘This was Benji?’

‘It was. I’m seeing him again.’

‘You liked him, then?’

‘I don’t know. I have literally no opinion of him. He seemed nice enough, I just can’t really remember anything about him. He could walk in here now and I don’t think I’d even recognize him. That’s how much of an impression he made.’

‘Well, that sounds like a great start for a relationship.’

Poppy wasn’t intending to budge too far from her bad mood. ‘Like I said, he seemed nice enough.’

‘Hasn’t he got a daughter?’

‘Yes. Samantha, or Tamara, or Amanda. Something like that.’

‘There you are. That’s something. Almost.’

‘Anyway. I’m seeing him for lunch today. Star Cafe, one fifteen.’

‘Shit. If I wasn’t on early lunch, I could have come and checked him out through the window.’

‘No, well, you’re clearly too busy,’ Poppy said petulantly.

Jen resisted the urge to tell her sister-in-law that she had real problems weighing on her own mind. Things that carried much more weight than whether she liked a new man she had just met, or if she was getting enough attention. And that a big part of the stress of those problems was trying to protect Poppy from ever finding out about them. She knew that Poppy was feeling slighted. She could sympathize, but she just couldn’t do much about it at the moment. And she couldn’t risk explaining herself too fully either.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately, OK? I get that you’re pissed off with me.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Poppy said sharply.

‘No.’

‘Then what is it? And don’t tell me work.’

‘Nothing.’

‘So you’ve just not been calling me back because you couldn’t be bothered? And Mum said she’s hardly spoken to you too.’

Jen bristled. It wasn’t fair that she was being asked to explain herself, that she was the one being made to feel like the bad guy.

‘Poppy, I’ve been busy, OK? I know my job’s not as high powered as yours, but sometimes I do have to work long hours …’ Even as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say, but she was out of inspiration.

‘Wow. Have I done something to piss you off?’

‘No. Look, I really don’t have time for this. Everything’s fine, I’m just working extra hours, and I only have five minutes left on my break, and I still haven’t eaten my lunch.’

‘God forbid you make Neil or Judy wait five extra minutes –’

‘I have to go, Poppy. I’ll talk to you soon.’

‘Are you in this evening? I’m coming over.’

‘No. I’m not.’

‘When, then?’

‘Look, I’ll see you soon, OK? I’ll call you. Bye.’

She pressed the end button without giving Poppy the chance to say any more. Now all she needed was for either Poppy or Amelia to sympathize with Jason because Jen had been doing so much overtime. He’d give away in a second that he had no idea what they were talking about, and then where would she be? She was going to have to offer to do some extra shifts, just to cover her tracks. She wrapped up the remains of her sandwich and threw it in the bin. She had no appetite for it now.

The last thing she wanted – she would ever have wanted – was to fall out with Poppy. Ordinarily, she would have loved to relive Poppy’s date with her. They would have cried tears of laughter as Poppy gave her a blow-by-blow account, and Jen teased her mercilessly about every aspect. They would have shared every last detail, however humiliating or personal. That was how they were; they told each other everything.

Not any more.

Jen could feel herself on the verge of tears. She splashed water on her face in the staff bathroom, and then had to patch up her make-up because she had made her mascara run. She looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. She looked gaunt. She knew she had been losing weight – stress always did that to her – but she hadn’t realized quite how much. She looked wired, too, as if she could do with a good night’s sleep and a week in rehab. She made herself as presentable as she could, and then walked out to reception.

David looked at his watch as she approached the desk. She was … what? Two minutes late.

‘I’m covering for Neil, because he had to meet someone for lunch.’

‘Sorry,’ she said quietly. There was no point getting into an argument about it.

‘It’s fine. I’m just telling you he had to leave on time. He couldn’t wait for you to get back …’

David had a passive-aggressive management style that sometimes drove Jen mad. She would much rather he just said, ‘You’re late, don’t do it again,’ and left it at that. But that wasn’t his modus operandi.

‘… and with Judy off sick, I obviously couldn’t leave the desk completely unmanned.’

God forbid. Someone might have wanted to complain about having no whisky in their minibar and had to wait thirty seconds for her to get back from lunch before they could do so.

She took a deep breath. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I was on an important call and couldn’t cut it short.’

‘It’s just that we can’t have the guests having to wait –’

‘Jesus, David, I know,’ she snapped.

In Hotel Top Trumps the general manager outscored the reception manager on all counts. She wanted to tell him to fuck right off, but she knew she couldn’t.

She caught her breath again. ‘I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

Thankfully, that seemed to appease him, and he walked off in the direction of the restaurant. Jen watched him go, knowing she could have handled that better. She put her hand over her eyes and willed herself to get through the day.

‘Are you OK?’

Jen jumped. She hadn’t noticed there was anyone in the reception area. Sean Hoskins was standing at the desk. She smiled her professional smile. Or at least, she tried to. It wasn’t coming out quite right.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.’

‘I was hiding. It looked like you were being told off.’

‘No. It was nothing. I’m sorry. Are you checking in?’ She was far too well trained to admit to any problems amongst the staff.

‘Yesterday. Really, though, do you want me to wait for him outside, when he’s on his way home, and do him over? I’m only offering because he’s clearly way smaller than me, and he looks a bit asthmatic.’

Jen actually laughed, it was such a ridiculous thing to say. ‘To be honest, if I thought it would help I’d do it myself.’

‘Ah, so he was ticking you off, then. Double booking? Angry guest? Cockroaches in the restaurant?’

‘No! Of course not. Nothing to do with the hotel. Personal stuff that I shouldn’t let affect me at work. It’s unprofessional.’

‘Father-in-law?’

Jen’s phone, which she had forgotten to switch to silent and which was lying on the desk beside her, began to ring again. No doubt Poppy following up with some more reproachful words. She glanced down, unable to ignore it completely. It wasn’t Poppy. It was Cass.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ she said, before she could censor herself. She picked up the phone and turned it off. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. Are you OK? Do you need to deal with that call?’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It wasn’t anyone important.’

‘You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t let your real life affect your work life. To be honest, that’s why I set up on my own – so I could be as grumpy as I liked, if I was having a bad day. You should try it. It’s very cathartic, actually, being rude to people who are rude to you first.’

‘It’s a nice idea, but I’d be sacked in five minutes.’

‘I’ll tell you what, you can start with me. I’ll be unforgivably dismissive to you next time I’m passing, and you can tell me where to go. Trust me, it’ll feel good.’

David was crossing back over the reception, a sheaf of papers in his hand. He smiled a smile of recognition.

‘Mr Hoskins. Glad to have you back. Is everything OK?’

‘Excellent. I was just telling Ms Masterson here that she is one of the most helpful and polite receptionists I’ve ever had the pleasure to deal with.’

‘Well, I’m glad to hear it.’

Jen waited until David had gone through to the back room, and then snorted. ‘That sounded so fake.’

‘Pleasure. Right, I can’t stay here all day trying to save your career. I’m going to be late.’

He waved a hand at her as he went. Jen laughed at his retreating back. It was so sweet of him to try to cheer her up. He made it seem as if it mattered to him, as if making her feel better was important. It had worked too. She felt herself relax for a moment.

And then she remembered Poppy and Cass, and she felt the suffocating weight settle back down on her shoulders, crushing her.