Deception (5 page)

Chapter 4

Breakfast was over and couldn’t be dragged out any longer. Mum had said she wanted to talk to me, to which I’d replied I was perfectly agreeable to hearing her out, so Jonti had made himself scarce as soon as he was able to. Miranda, after having made it crystal that she trusted I would absent myself that evening from the flat, had also taken herself off to buy whatever it is she needed for her guests’ dinner. I decided there and then that it really was time to make a move and let these good people have their lounge back.

Curling myself on the armchair, I was aware that for all my outward signs of ease, I felt slightly on edge, which is not at all the same as saying one was edgy. I felt as if my mother had once again managed to compromise me into a situation with which I wasn’t truly comfortable. But she was my mother, after all, and had to be respected. But, before she seated herself, something on the couch caught her attention, and she bent and her long red fingernails scraped the crusty fabric on which she was seated.

“I see that Miranda’s still been unable to remove this liqueur from the settee,” she said faintly as she spread her silk skirt and arranged herself gracefully on the cushions. “
Baileys
, wasn’t it?”

I gave an appreciative nod at the pun. “Only you could call your daughter after a shipping region and still manage to make a joke of her name,” I said.

She took a deep breath. “Well, all jokes aside, I’m here to offer you my help.”

I cupped my chin in my hand and regarded her thoughtfully. “What makes you think I need any help, Mother?”

She only had to raise her eyebrows at me and I was already on the defensive. Thirty three, going on thirteen. I leaned back in the chair and gave a small shrug.

“Actually, I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet,” I said, somewhat untruthfully.

She gave me a quizzical look. “You’re not thinking of going back to that man, are you?”

“
That
man
made me pretty happy while I was with him.”

“I never trusted him.”

“Yes, I know. You told me so enough times over the years. Apart from when you initially thought he might be a member of the razor family, before you found out he
wasn’t
related to them, you quite liked him. Only afterwards did you decide he was unsuitable for your only daughter. So I guess you must be very pleased at having been proved right about him.”

She bristled. “You really think I’m that shallow?”

I didn’t answer.

She stared out of the window. “I know you still blame me for divorcing your father.”

“I don’t say it was your fault…I don’t even
know
whose fault it was…”

She raised her hand to cut me off. “That’s at the heart of everything… I know it. Our marriage and the break up. You think I don’t understand that’s why you and I have such a …a difficult relationship now? But you and
Jonti were both so young at the time, how could you possibly understand?”

I looked at her. “I’m not so young now, Mother,” I said, but she still wasn’t looking at me. It was as if she was talking to herself.

“No marriage is perfect, Bailey,” she said softly. “We all make mistakes, some of us more than others.”

Now she turned to me, and there was a plea in her voice.

“I don’t pretend to know or do what’s right always,” she said. “But whatever you think about me, whatever you believe, believe me when I tell you that I’ve only got your best interests at heart. And to ask you to please not shut me out of your life. I just want to see you happily married.”

“Like you are now?”

She turned to look at me, and her voice was rock steady. “As I am now. As I always wanted to be and as every woman deserves to be with the right husband beside her.” She leaned forward, all urgency and earnestness. “What’s wrong with a mother wanting to see her children happily married, with children of their own? It’s what life’s all about, having children. Carrying on the line.”

“Mother, please!” I was uncomfortable; I wasn’t enjoying this conversation one bit, it was so unlike her to open up in this way. Normally she was so restrained and reserved. “Stop going on about marriage and children, will you? Marriage is just a piece of paper,” I said. “It means nothing.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I don’t believe in anything or anyone anymore,” I replied, and felt my heart tug in my chest as I spoke. “Besides, having kids isn’t a guarantee that that marriage will last, is it?” I added coolly. “If it were, Dad would still be part of our family and living with us, wouldn’t he, instead of living apart from us, in Jersey, with his second wife and her family.”

“I really don’t care to hear you talk like this, Bailey,” she said crossly, ignoring the mention of my father. “If I didn’t believe in the holy state of matrimony, would I have got married again?” she added, her tone a reprimand.

I ran an exasperated hand through what remained of my hair. “You left it long enough,” I said. “It’s been over twenty years since Dad walked out of the house. Nobody’s blaming you now for trying to find a companion during the last years of your life!”

There was a long pause, and then my mother leaned forward and placed her hand over mine.

“Please let’s not argue, Bailey.”

I just shrugged and moved my hand away. There, she was back to her old self. Not wishing to discuss my father with me. As if he was a taboo subject.

“We’ve gone off at a tangent,” she said at length. “All I really wanted to was to discuss your plans.”

I remained silent.

“Okay. Then I’ll say it out straight.” She straightened her back and pressed her knees together primly. “I want you to come home with me,” she said. “Right now. Just come back, no questions asked, and no demands made, I promise. The house is big enough for all of us, you can live comfortably, and we won’t intrude on your life in any way. If you want, we’ll turn the upstairs into a
flatlet for you, or maybe even build an extension on the side, if you prefer. You’ll have total independence. Your own keys. Your own front door. What do you say?”

“I say I’m almost thirty three and it’s time to cut the umbilical cord.”

Her lips pursed. “Is it because of Oliver that you won’t come and live with us?” she asked. “That you somehow think you’ll be in the way? Because if you think your stepfather isn’t in agreement with me over this, you’re wrong. We’ve discussed it. He’s in total agreement. He very much wants you to come and live with us and make our home yours. You can ask him yourself if you don’t believe me, Bailey.”

I listened to the entreaty in her voice and I looked at her, suddenly curious.

“Why should he care so much?” I wondered. “I’m nothing to him. He hardly knows me.”

She blinked, looked away. “Well, it’s only natural, isn’t it? I mean, he wants whatever I want, whatever makes me happy.”

I shrugged, turned away. “Lucky you. You waited long enough to find a guy who can make you happy, I’ll grant you that.”

She leaned back, crossing her long, slim legs. “You
do
blame me for divorcing your father, don’t you?”

“I guess I blame you both. For not trying harder to make the marriage work,” I said simply.

Her nails tapped on the chair rest.

“Your father and I, we were very much in love at the beginning,” she said, staring into distant space, as if remembering those far off years.

“Then one or the other fell out of love, right?”

“Something like that, yes.”

God, she made me so mad sometimes. “You see?” I said sharply. “Even now, you won’t tell me what happened.”

I saw her take a deep breath before she answered. “I’m sorry, Bailey, but it was a long time ago, and I swore to myself I would never discuss that part of my life with my children.”

“But I’m no longer a child.” I waited, but when she didn’t speak I shook my head at her in frustration. “Who are you protecting by remaining silent? What does it matter who did what to whom?”

She raised her chin, and there was that old defiant look back again. “I don’t know or care if you’re still in touch with your father, Bailey, but if you are, and he should ever choose to discuss it with you, then that’s his prerogative. But don’t look to me to talk to you on the subject, because I shan’t, so please stop trying to wheedle things out of me.”

I gave a short, contemptuous little laugh. “And you wonder why I choose not to come and live with you,” I said.

There was a long silence, which eventually my mother broke. But when she did speak, it was as if all we’d said just then had never been mentioned, for her tone was so light and teasing.

“You do realise that you’ve outstayed your welcome around here, don’t you?”

I decided to imitate her tone of voice, and made myself smile. “Don’t I know it,” I said. “If Miranda gets much brighter around me she’ll explode.”

I received a quick smile in response, but some of the awkwardness between us still survived, making me jumpy. So, standing up, I jammed my hands into my pockets and went over to the windows, looking out at the street. It was late June and at last the sky was a shining blue and people were outside, enjoying the spell of fine weather, not knowing how long it may last.

I spoke over my shoulder. “So, you might as well know, I’ve decided I’m going to take a long break, take some time off work. I’m due a sabbatical. Or they can tell me where to go if they don’t like it. I don’t really care.”

“Oh? And do what?” She got up and followed me to stand beside me. But she didn’t try to touch me, didn’t make contact. I could feel her holding herself aloof, as if any display of maternal affection needed my permission.

I knew that in some way I’d helped create the gulf that now existed between us, but though part of me ached for her, for the mother I’d once known and loved, another part of me resented her, blamed her for the rift that had caused the gulf in the first place.

I made myself sound neutral. “I need to get away from… all this.” I made a vague gesture with my hand, encompassing all my surroundings. “I need time to recoup and consider my options, and I need to go somewhere where I can relax and be myself.”

“And where would that be?”

“Somewhere quiet and peaceful.” I paused, and then dropped the words into the void between us. “Somewhere like Jersey,” I said.

She didn’t speak, but I felt her flinch, and could feel the sudden friction in the air.

“I’d like to see Dad again,” I said. “It’s been way too long. Years.”

I felt her stir beside me. “He’s agreeable to seeing you?” she asked, her voice even and not betraying her feelings.

“Why shouldn’t he want to see his daughter?” I answered, my tone just as cool as hers. “It’s been fifteen years or so since I last visited them at the hotel ‘Pegasus’. I was just a school girl then. Gwen was charming enough to me, of course, and her twins, Max and Megan, were nice enough, though I thought Megan was a bit of a snob and Max was a bit of a brat. Everyone’s moved on now, of course. We’re all that much older, but I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t just hang out with them for a while, spend a bit of time with Dad, get to know him again.”

“I see.”

“I’d like to study the layout, as it were,” I went on. “After all, if my father’s been involved in helping to run a hotel for all these years, why shouldn’t I also be interested in the same business? We do share the same genes, after all.”

She didn’t reply but I could feel the tension reaching out to me like a damp blanket. Feeling the need to put some distance between us suddenly, I abruptly turned on my heel and paced the room. Then abruptly I swung round and faced her.

“I don’t understand why you should disapprove?” I said, trying not to sound too resentful.

She inclined her head. “Bailey, you have made it abundantly clear that you feel I have no right to either approve or disapprove of whatever it is you should decide to do. I was merely wondering whether you were thinking of staying in Jersey on a permanent basis?” my mother replied.

I made a face, hunched my shoulders, tried not to roll my eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe. There’s not a lot happening for me just at the moment. And there are personal reasons why I’m not happy with my job any more. People there I’d like to avoid.”

I went and flung myself back on the armchair, one leg swinging over the armrest. “For the life of me I can’t see any reason why my father wouldn’t want to help me out if I asked him to, can you?” I declared. “Don’t you think he owes me that much, at least?” I sighed when she didn’t reply, and made my tone gentler. After all, this was as hard for her in some ways as if was for me.

“Look, it’s just one of the Channel Islands, Mother,” I said, trying to placate her, “it’s not the other side of the world. It doesn’t take that long to get there and back, and I’ll still see my new niece or nephew whenever he or she is born. I wouldn’t like to be too far away from Jonti and Miranda when that happy event occurs, obviously.”

She stared at me for a long moment, without speaking, before she returned to the couch, sitting down directly opposite and spreading out her skirt. It seemed to me as if she had made up her mind about something and was choosing her words carefully.