True to form, from the moment she’d arrived, Pammie had dominated our very existence, from moaning about the flat’s temperature, to pulling a sulky face when Adam told her I’d made up the spare bedroom for her.
“But it’s a single bed,” she whined. “A put-you-up, no less. I won’t get a wink of sleep in that.”
I knew what was coming before Adam even opened his mouth.
“Okay, why don’t you go in our bed and Em can sleep in here?” I could feel him looking at me to gauge my reaction.
“Oh, no, I can’t put you out like that. Why don’t you just take me home? I’ll be fine there.”
I plumped up the pillows, willing myself to turn the conversation off in my head. I needed space. I needed to get out of here.
“Don’t be silly,” said Adam. “That’s not a problem, is it, Em?”
I shook my head, still not looking at him. I didn’t want to watch him as he pathetically groveled to her.
“But where will you go?” she asked.
“I can bed down on the sofa for a few nights. It’s honestly not a problem.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” she went on. “I really don’t want to put anybody out.” How ironic, given that it seemed that that was precisely what she was put on earth to do.
Three days later, after she cleared the top of my dressing table into a box and replaced my lotions and potions with her own toiletries, I turned up on Seb’s doorstep. “I can’t cope anymore. Can I stay at yours for a couple of nights, just till she goes home?”
“Of course you can,” he said, “but are you sure it’s the right thing to do? You’re a proper couple now, not just playing at it. You’re getting married, for God’s sake, so you need to work through this together.”
“There is no ‘together’ when it comes to his mum,” I complained. “It’s me against them. They come as a pair. He just doesn’t see what she does and how she behaves.”
Seb let out a heavy sigh. “Maybe he knows exactly what she’s like and chooses to ignore it.”
I slumped back into his sofa, laying my head on its orange upholstery, remembering the night before. “I do hope that’s organic mince you’re using?” she’d sniffed haughtily as she watched me stirring Bolognese. “It’s what Adam prefers, and is so much better for him.”
“It’s also three times the price,” I’d reminded her, wondering if “organic” had even been invented when Adam was still living at home.
“I’ve spoken to Adam twice today but I forgot to ask him what time he’ll be home.” She’d then laughed, underlining how close they were. It wasn’t lost on me that when I’d called him at lunchtime, he was too busy to speak, but not, it seemed, to her. Twice.
“He’s working late,” I’d said abruptly. “He’ll be home around ten.”
“Do you not worry about him working such long hours?” she’d said.
I knew I shouldn’t rise to it, and I was all too aware that I gave her what she wanted, but I almost wanted to test how much she knew. To see if she really did know more about Adam than I did.
“Why would I worry?” I’d said.
“Well, just that he’s doing what he says he’s doing.” She’d smirked. “You never know what these young men get up to, especially someone as handsome as my Adam.”
I silently mimicked “my Adam” as I continued to stir the Bolognese, more furiously than before.
What was I supposed to say to that? What did she want me to say? That, up until now, it hadn’t even occurred to me? But, hey, now you come to mention it, you could be right. Maybe he is screwing his twenty-two-year-old blond colleague.
Instead, I’d said, “He’s got a lot on at the moment, but normally he’s home by now.” Feeling as if I somehow needed to validate him, his work, and our relationship. To offer an excuse for something he so often did, which, until now, I’d not questioned. Largely.
“That may be so,” she’d said. “But you need to be careful if he’s feeling stressed. He only needs someone at work to turn his head and he’ll be gone. It happens so easily these days.”
I sank farther into Seb’s sofa, brought my hands over my face, and let out a frustrated scream.
“She’s undermining me in front of him all the time. But does he pick up on it? Does he say anything to her? Of course not.”
“He just wants an easy life, Em,” said Seb. “It’s probably his way of placating her. He’s known her a long time, so we’ve got to assume that he knows what works and what doesn’t.”
“But it’s not about placating her. It’s about standing up for me, the woman he supposedly wants to marry. Honestly, Seb, I’m really not sure I can go ahead if it stays the way it is.”
“Well, then, you’ve got to talk to him. Tell him exactly how you feel and how you need his support and backup on this issue.”
I nodded sagely.
“It’s important, Em. This should be one of the happiest times of your life. You’ve got a great new flat together, he’s gone and put a ring on it, and you’re supposed to be planning your wedding. This is your happy time.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I will talk to him. I have to. But can I stay here? Just for tonight?”
He nodded and went off to fetch another bottle of wine from the kitchen while I called Adam.
“What do you mean, you’re staying there?” he barked down the phone.
“I don’t want to argue,” I said wearily. “We’re busy chatting and it’s getting late. I’ll pop back in the morning to get ready for work.”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “There’s no need for you to stay there.”
“Adam, I’m tired, and to be honest, I need a break, just for tonight. It’s gone ten already so it’s not as if you’re going to miss me.”
“Get yourself home now,” he said, before putting the phone down.
A burning sensation raged in my throat and hot tears sprang to my eyes. I battled to hold them back, but as soon as Seb walked back in the room, they sprang onto my cheeks.
“Hey, what on earth’s the matter?” he said, pulling me toward him, the bottle still in his hand. “What’s happened?”
“He just … doesn’t understand,” I said between sobs.
“Come on, now,” soothed Seb. “Stay here tonight and everything will feel better in the morning. I promise.”
“I can’t … I’ve got to go home…” I stuttered. I would have given anything to stay in Seb’s embrace—it felt safe—but I had to go home. Adam was right.
Two days later, I still didn’t have the guts to say anything. Not because I was worried I was wrong, or I was scared of Pammie finding out, but I just couldn’t call which way Adam was going to go on this. How crazy was that? That I honestly didn’t know how the man I loved, more than life itself, was going to react. And therein lay the problem: however long I’d known him and however much I loved him, I’d never be able to compete with his own mother. They had a bond like no other, one that simply could not be broken or even tampered with.
“Emily, Emily.” I could hear her calling but needed to take one more deep breath before I answered.
“Yes, Pammie?”
“Be a love and pop the kettle on. I’m parched.”
I’d literally just walked through the front door. I was still in my coat, drenched from the sudden downpour that had started the minute I got off the train. She must have heard me as I struggled with the lock. I’d have to get the landlord to take a look at it before it seized up altogether.
I counted to ten and walked into the kitchen. All I wanted to do was pull out every sodding piece of crockery and smash it all over the floor. But, instead, I carefully placed her favorite cup onto the granite worktop and silently wondered how easy it would be to administer cyanide.
“Oh, you are a dear,” she said, shuffling in, much slower than I was sure she was capable of.
“How’s your day been?” she asked, but I didn’t have time to answer. “You’ll see I did the washing up that was left from last night,” she went on, picking up a cloth and wiping down the spotless surfaces. “If you leave that sort of thing lying around for too long, you’ll end up with all kinds of pests, and I doubt your landlord would be too happy with that. He’s probably got enough on his plate with that Italian restaurant downstairs. The mess and rubbish they leave out back is shocking. They’ll have rats running amok all over the place.”
I gave her a fixed grin. It had been a long day, and all I wanted to do was have a bath, get my pajamas on, and chill out on the sofa with a box set. Sex with my fiancé, for the first time in almost a week—in fact, since he’d proposed—would have been high on my to-do list as well, but seeing as he was out on a work do, and we had the devil incarnate sleeping in our bed, the chance of any intimacy was highly unlikely.
“Oh, you’ve got your hair different,” she said, as if seeing me for the first time. “What have you done to it? Ooh, no, I don’t like that. I prefer it the other way. The way you usually have it.”
“I just got caught in the rain,” I said wearily. “It goes a lot curlier when it’s wet.”
She gave a little snigger. “Don’t be letting Adam see you like that. He’ll wonder what on earth he’s let himself in for.”
My coat still on, I poured myself a glass of wine from the fridge and headed to the bathroom.
“It’s a bit early for that, isn’t it?” was the last thing I heard before I slammed the door shut.