Best Laid Plans (9 page)

‘Long time no see,’ she echoed. ‘You look well, Mike.’

‘Wish I could say the same. You look knackered, sis. You work too hard, that’s your problem.’

‘Don’t call me sis,’ she felt irritation bubbling up already and they had only spoken a few words. ‘And you would be knackered, too, if you’d been working non-stop for the past two weeks. A department store in the run up to Christmas is not the place to be, believe me.’

‘Oh I don’t know, it’s been fairly hectic for us, too.’ Mike glanced at their father. ‘Hasn’t it, Dad? I went down to Kent with the guys to help with a big move. It was a two-van DBDA affair because they had a lot of antiques and two crates of fragiles. They were a crusty pair, eagle-eyed, standing over us as we unpacked and we didn’t want any cock-ups. It was a tricky one, terrible staircase, but we got them installed without any problems.’ He looked again at his father, maybe expecting a nod of approval but not getting it.

‘DBDA?’ Brian queried.

‘Don’t bloody drop anything,’ Mike replied with a grin. ‘Or we’d be onto insurance claims even before you picked it up.’

‘Did you get a decent tip?’ Frank asked. ‘You can usually suss out the folk who are going to be mean buggers when it comes to the tip.’

‘That would be me then. I don’t agree with tips,’ Brian said, the remark sinking like a stone as Frank’s raised eyebrows showed his surprise. ‘On principle, I never give tips.’

Amy had, somewhat to her embarrassment, already noticed that. At a restaurant recently she had surreptitiously found a crumpled ten pound note to deposit on the table as they left after she realized that a tip was not forthcoming from Brian. The service had been excellent so she saw no reason at all to withhold one. It was a little
thing but somehow important. If Brian noticed the sudden change in mood of the other two men he pretended not to, carrying on blissfully.

‘So you do a bit of hands-on stuff then, Mike?’ he asked, stretching out an arm as if to put it round Amy’s shoulders. A little annoyed at the way he had reacted to Monique she childishly moved away as he did so, so that it ended up just trailing along the edge of the sofa.

‘To know a business you have to start at the bottom and work up,’ Frank said, looking odd to Amy without the customary cigarette lodged between his lips. ‘Only then can you look a guy in the eye who’s doing the rough stuff. If you’ve been there, done that, then they respect you that bit more. We can all drive the vans, carry furniture, do packing, dismantle and reassemble, you name it. Even Amy has an HGV licence.’

‘Has she?’ Brian glanced at her. ‘You didn’t say.’

‘It’s not the sort of thing that comes up in conversation,’ she said.

‘Well, well.…’ he seemed amused. ‘No wonder you don’t like people to criticize your driving!’

Mike laughed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re guilty of that, Brian? You’re on dangerous ground there. Even though I say it myself, she’s one of the best drivers I know.’

‘Thanks.’ She shot a grateful glance his way and he winked at her.

It was all genial enough but she was sensitive to her family’s mood and she knew without asking that Brian was going down like a lead balloon.

Before it could get any worse, her mother popped her head round the door to announce that dinner was ready.

‘It’s nothing too exciting,’ she said, already in apologetic mode for what Amy knew would be a fantastic meal. ‘I’m doing beef tomorrow so I thought we would settle for something simple tonight. It’s just something I’ve rustled up – a fish pie with a difference and a homemade strawberry
meringue to follow. Hope you like fish, Brian?’

‘I do, thank you.’

Amy caught his rueful smile. She knew he hated fish and it was nice of him not to make a fuss about it. This was the problem with him. He was ever so slightly Jekyll and Hyde. His manner sometimes verged on arrogant and rude but then he had the ability of shaking that off and being very pleasant. He was certainly trying hard with her mother but she was not sure just what her mum was making of that for she was nowhere near as gullible as Janet.

They moved into the dining room and took their seats. As they did so, she caught the look Mike and Monique exchanged; a secretive half-smile on both their lips.

Something was up and the only thing she could come up with was that Monique was finally pregnant. At least if she was and they announced it over dinner that would be the prime topic of conversation for the next few days and the heat would be off her and Brian.

E
mbarrassingly, Brian’s Christmas gift was not to her taste but she thought she made a good show of enthusiasm for it. Her present to him was a sweater, bought rather guiltily from one of their competitors’ stores simply because she felt she ought to; buying any of her presents with her staff discount seemed a bit off.

Mike and Monique bought her a voucher for a spa treatment. ‘You look as if you’re in desperate need of it,’ Monique said on handing it over. ‘You’ll be able to relax and let all your worries drift away.’

‘Thanks, Monique. That’s very thoughtful.’

It was pointless saying she had no worries.

‘Thanks for the shirt, darling,’ her father said later, catching her in the family room where she had wandered in search of some quiet time to browse through the old and much-read books.

‘Sorry if it was a bit boring,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘You must think I have no imagination at all.’

‘Nonsense. I always need shirts.’

She sat down on a familiar chair. ‘They won’t think we’re being unsociable will they if we stay in here a while?’

‘Shouldn’t think so. Monique is keeping that man of yours entertained.’

She noted the ‘that man of yours’, recognized the doubts
in his voice. He sat down opposite her and smiled and she relaxed at last. It was ridiculous but they rarely got the chance to be alone these days and so these moments were precious and to be treasured.

‘How are you, sweetheart?’ he asked quietly. ‘You look tired. I hope you’re not overdoing things.’

‘Hard work never killed anybody,’ she said, regretting that remark as soon as she uttered it. ‘At least—’

‘Hard work didn’t cause my problem,’ he told her. ‘I’m afraid a dicky heart runs in the family. Your mother made too much of it and, look at me, I’m absolutely fine. Never felt better, as a matter of fact, now that I’ve passed the MOT with the doctor.’

She did not argue.

‘Do you like Brian?’ she asked and she knew that it was a ridiculous question to ask and instantly waved her hand as if she was retracting it. ‘Don’t answer.’

‘I have to reserve judgement,’ he said quietly and truthfully. ‘But if he makes you happy, darling, then that’s fine by me.’

‘It’s not serious, Dad,’ she told him, needing him to know that. ‘I don’t know why I brought him along. I can’t see it going anywhere. He’s all right but he irritates me to hell.’

‘And he doesn’t give tips.’ Her father shook his head. ‘He’d better not visit the States then or he’d be in real trouble.’

‘I’ll talk to him about it. There must be a reason because he’s not short of money.’

‘It’s a bit of an ordeal for the chap coming here to meet the family. I shall never forget meeting Monique for the first time. She looked about twelve years old, had her hair in a plait for God’s sake.’

They shared a gentle smile. Enough said.

‘Give it a chance,’ he continued amiably. ‘There’s no such thing as the perfect man, you know. Ask your mother.’ His sudden grin was infectious and she laughed with him. He rarely let off steam and she knew she was like
him, firmly embedded in the serious side of life, craving perfection in both her private and working life and knowing that it would not happen. Something somewhere had to give. She had worried when she was younger that all was not well with her parents’ marriage but that was because so many of her friends’ parents were splitting up, but she was now satisfied that hers would stay together, that the crisp familiarity they shared was just their way. They did not seem overly affectionate towards each other but they had been married a long time and she supposed that happened. Suddenly, though, she had a vision of her future, knew that she would be crazy to enter into a relationship with somebody about whom she already had grave doubts but knew also that she did not want to be alone forever. She loved her career – how she loved it – but how would she feel twenty years on?

‘But do you like him, Dad?’ she persisted and it was suddenly important that she got a positive answer.

‘Don’t put me on the spot. I don’t know him yet. Aside from the fact that he’s a mean bugger he seems okay.’

‘I’m thirty-five,’ she said, looking across to the bookshelves and seeing some old favourites there. ‘No spring chicken as they say.’

‘
Who
says? You’re only a child.’

‘Hardly.’ She sighed, turning to face him. ‘How’s life with you these days? How are you feeling?’

‘Okay.’ He hesitated only a moment. ‘I’ve been better, I suppose. It was scary.’

‘How’s the business?’

‘So so, and we’ll get through this rough patch as soon as the housing market picks up.’

‘You’ve taken a nose dive this year, then?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not as bad as that. People still move house whatever the state of the economy but we’ve had to hold our prices in order to stay competitive, and throw in a few discounts as well, and that all eats into the
profits. Anyway, I don’t want you to be worried about it. We’ll get by.’

She didn’t want to talk business, didn’t want to upset him, and she didn’t like to admit to herself that he looked different. The illness had aged him and it was as if a sparkle had fizzled out. He had never been the life-and-soul-of-the-party type but the two of them had always shared something special, something that was missing between her and her mother.

‘I could always come back into the business if you’d have me,’ she said as the thought struck her. ‘I’m not sure what’s happening with my job in the New Year.’

‘So you want to hedge your bets? You would be very welcome, darling, although I don’t know how Mike would react to it. What the hell am I going to do with him, Amy? I can’t sack my own son, your mother’s made that quite clear, but I tell you, if he was anybody other than my son he would have been long gone.’

‘As bad as that?’

‘As bad as that. I worry about what will happen when I’m gone.’ He looked suddenly so much older. ‘Don’t tell your mother. But I have an awful feeling that my days are numbered. After all, my grandfather and then my dad both died young so the odds are stacked against me. I’m doing everything I should be doing, more or less, but you never know what’s round the corner.’

‘Hey, come on.’ She went across to him and cuddled into him feeling his arms slipping round her. He was wearing a cashmere sweater and it was comfortably soft. Underneath she could hear his heart beating, nice and regular, thank heavens, and he smelt of soap with just a trace of cigarettes thrown in, which was what he meant by the ‘more or less’. ‘What is it about Christmas that makes everybody so bloody depressed?’

‘Less of the swearing, young lady,’ he pushed her gently away, smiling now.

There was the sound of laughter from the other room and the television blared forth.

‘We’d better go back in or they’ll wonder where we are.’

‘I miss you when you’re not here,’ he said wistfully. ‘You should come to see us more often. One thing more.…’

‘What?’

‘All I want is for you to be happy. Don’t let your mother drive you into doing something you don’t want to do.’

‘Are you warning me off Brian? I’ve told you, Dad, it’s not serious.’

‘Then why the hell is he here?’

Following him out of the room, she wondered that too.

Brian slipped into Amy’s bed in the early hours of Christmas morning, shaking her out of the dream she was engaged in. In the dream she was at the store although, as in the way of dreams, it was a mixture of the various ones she had worked in. She was running late but on coming into the store through Cosmetics & Perfumery there was Bea looking as if she had just woken up; hair messy, face shiny, in old cotton pyjamas, pink fur-trimmed granny slippers. She yanked Amy’s arm as she passed muttering that she didn’t want Daniel to see her like this. Amy had never seen Bea looking so vulnerable and that was when she awoke to see Brian, eyes full of expectation, beside her. He was wearing boxers but no top and already, even though she was only half awake his hands were sliding up her leg.

‘Happy Christmas,’ he murmured against her ear. ‘I thought it would be a nice way to start the day.’

‘For heaven’s sake, do you know what time it is?’ She pushed him aside and peered at the bedside clock. ‘A quarter to two, that’s what.’

‘I thought you’d be expecting me,’ he said, ignoring her tone, his voice low and silky. ‘I know you said you needed to get some sleep but I thought—’

‘Well, you thought wrong,’ she said, instantly guilty as
she caught his frown so that, to make it up to him, she drew him close. ‘Sorry. I really am exhausted, darling, and I need my sleep.’

‘Okay. I understand but you owe me one.’ Accepting the inevitable, he kissed her gently. ‘Sleep all you like but I’m staying here with you.’

‘Thanks.’ The soft touch of his lips with no passion attached meant a lot, that and the gentlemanly way he accepted the rebuff. He could be so very nice.

And she really was sleepy.

But now of course, perversely, within minutes she was wide awake even as she heard his breathing quieten as he in turn began to drift off.

‘What do you make of my family?’ she asked, nudging him awake.

The room was too hot, stuffy, and it was too quiet, a quiet she had once known and loved. The flat she lived in now was on a busy road and all night long there was the constant hum of traffic, cars changing gear just outside her window and accelerating up the hill. She often wondered what on earth people were doing driving around at night, for it never eased up until shortly before dawn when there was a lull. Never a night owl, she often woke shortly after dawn and the silence then was blissful, a time for slowly coming out of her sleep knowing that she needn’t get up quite yet. That early-morning half-awake state was the best time of day for her, the time when she did her thinking, the time when many of her work ideas came to her. She had no need to bother with an alarm clock, much preferring her own gentle wake-up call and once out of bed she wasted no time in having her first shot of caffeine and a brisk shower. On most working days she could be dressed and out of the flat in twenty minutes.

‘What do I make of your family?’ Brian echoed her words, moving to lie on his back, taking more than half the duvet with him. ‘I don’t know. They seem a mixed bunch. Monique
doesn’t fit in with the rest of you.’

She had not bothered to draw the curtains but it was dark still and she reached out to switch on one of the bedside lamps, which sent out a soft rosy glow. She propped herself up so that she could see him better. ‘Happy Christmas,’ she said softly. ‘In what way doesn’t she fit in?’

Brian had the most extraordinary hazel eyes that seemed to have the ability to change colour and she wondered if he was short-sighted because sometimes he narrowed them as if he was finding it difficult to see. There was no evidence of glasses or contacts but then she imagined he would be far too vain to admit to short-sightedness, which he would see as a weakness.

‘She’s so unlike you all,’ he laughed quietly. ‘She looks like a little doll who’s been dressed in the wrong clothes by an excited little girl.’

‘She has her own style,’ she said, peculiarly defensive on Monique’s behalf. ‘And of course she doesn’t look like us because she’s not blood related.’

‘It’s not just that. Does she get on with your father?’

‘She doesn’t work hard enough for his liking. He doesn’t think being an artist is much of a job.’

‘He’s wrong. It’s a very special job but I can see that he’s a pragmatic sort of guy who would think that. Is she as talented as her husband thinks?’

‘I’m the wrong person to ask. I’m afraid I’m biased. I agree with Dad that she should be out there earning her share.’

‘She’s a homemaker she tells me.’

‘Well, yes and if she had kids then I could just about understand it. It must be hell combining work with kids, which is why I’m not going down that road. But Monique doesn’t have kids, does she? Unless …’ she glanced at him. ‘Is she pregnant?’

‘How the hell would I know?’

‘I thought she might have told you. You seemed to be
getting on very well together.’

‘Surely you don’t think I’m interested in her?’

‘Of course not.’ She laughed that off but it made her feel uncomfortable because he had certainly been guilty of ignoring her rather obviously last night whilst cosying up with Monique. ‘The truth is I’m still struggling to get on with her and if that’s bitchy then I’m sorry. I suppose I should make more of an effort for Mike’s sake. Oh God, it’s hellishly hot in here. Do you mind if I turn off the radiator?’

‘Be my guest.’

Just for a moment as she slipped barefoot across the room the thought of making love crossed her mind, for it would take nothing to persuade him, but even as she considered it she saw that Brian had swung out of bed in turn and was reaching for the bathrobe her mum had provided.

Bemused, she thought that they were acting like an old married couple, when waking up and not being able to get back off to sleep meant just one thing: a cup of tea. It was rather fun, creeping around in the kitchen in the middle of the night, shushing theatrically so as not to wake her mother and father and afterwards as they sat at the kitchen table mugs clasped in their hands, Amy reflected that this was, in fact, all right, that she was being much too picky and that, for all his faults, she did love him in a fashion and she should simply relax and let things take their course.

There was no harm in allowing herself to think of the future and she did always like to plan ahead.

It was too soon yet but if at some stage Brian did decide to propose she might very well take him up on it.