Doing the Right Thing (7 page)

“Join in the conversation,” Joan ordered.

David had his mouth pressed to Lisa’s ear. Finn and Hugh argued about football and Sally and Miranda were betting over which of their sons would be the first to be dry at night. Addie had been brought up in a family where striving to do better than others was a way of life. Competition prizes were always being delivered—Lego sets, remote control cars, books and games. Finn, Hugh and David had joined football teams, fencing leagues, swimming clubs, army cadets. If there was an exam to take, they took it and their rooms had been full of trophies and certificates. Addie shied away from anything competitive, anything that might make her stand out. She made no effort, and drove everyone mad, especially her mother.

Addie felt her mother’s gaze land on her and tried to blend into the wallpaper. She should have gone for a pink flowered top.

“Hugh’s in line for a promotion. I don’t suppose—”

“No.”

“Surely you’ve been working there long enough to make an impression.”

Addie shrugged.

“A waste of an opportunity.”

It had been her mother who’d pressed Addie to take the job with Booth’s. When her father became ill and Addie returned home, the offer of an exciting position with a travel company run by a friend of her father’s had been the carrot. Bob Booth promised her a full-time job after a probationary period. He also offered her a dazzling career, exotic travel, rapid promotion and a competitive salary, none of which turned out to be true. Addie didn’t count accompanying coach loads of senior citizens as exotic travel.

She knew she should look for something better, but her employment record wasn’t good. After university she flitted from one company to another, unsure over what she wanted to do and damned at a distance by her mother for every decision she made.

“Addie, go upstairs and tell the girls to wash their hands,” Joan said. “Please.”

The pair were in the bathroom, Trixie plaiting Honey’s long blonde hair. Little twisted strands entwined with what looked like toffee wrappers stuck out all over her head. When Addie looked more closely, she saw several toffees and winced.

“Time to eat,” she said.

“We haven’t finished.” Trixie pouted. “I haven’t done her highlights.”

“What were you going to use?” Addie asked.

“We found this in Grandma’s cupboard.” Honey opened her hand to reveal a tube of hemorrhoid cream.

Addie stifled a giggle. ”Wait ‘til after lunch. I don’t think you’d better use this without asking Grandma, okay?”

“Does my hair look nice, Aunty Addie?” Honey asked.

“Lovely. You look like a fairy princess.”

Honey went downstairs smiling, to be greeted with a wail from Miranda. “What have you done?”

“Aunty Addie said it looked nice. She said I looked like a fairy.” Honey started to cry.

“You look more like a Rasta-fairy,” David teased.

“I think you look lovely, sweetheart,” Finn told his niece.

“Thanks, Finn,” Addie said and her brother laughed until he caught his mother’s eye.

The Winter family sat around the large oak table for Sunday lunch. Addie watched her mother at a side table, piling a plate with mashed potatoes, a squillion sludgy sprouts and a thick slice of rare beef edged with soft yellow fat. Even as Addie hoped the serving was not coming her way, it did. There was not one item Addie liked—no peas, roast potatoes or roast parsnips and no Yorkshire pudding, though they seemed to be on everyone else’s plate. She didn’t ask why, not wanting a lecture about her needing to lose weight. Addie picked up her knife and fork and then put them down again. The smell of the sprouts and the sight of the meat made her feel sick. She was twenty-seven years old. She did not have to eat this.

“Delicious, Mum,” David said.

Addie hoped he choked. Finn rolled his eyes at Addie, and cut up his son Harry’s food. Addie wished she was sitting next to Finn who’d have eaten her meat.

“Auntie Addie isn’t eating her dinner,” Trixie said. “She doesn’t care about the starving children in Africa, Granny.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” chorused Trixie’s father and mother.

“She can’t have pudding, can she?” Trixie smirked.

“I want pudding now!” Harry pushed his plate away. He knocked a glass of blackcurrant juice all over the tablecloth and burst into tears.

“See what you’ve done,” Joan snapped at Addie, who sat at the far end of the table, nowhere near the disaster.

Addie took advantage of the flurry of activity to pass Finn her meat and sneak the rest of her meal into the kitchen, depositing the congealed mess in the bin. She turned to see her mother behind her.

“Not hungry? You won’t want pudding then,” Joan said.

Addie sat and watched while the rest of the family tucked into apple and blackberry crumble, and wondered not for the first time, if she was related to any of them. Her brothers were the image of their deceased father and had been taken for triplets on more than one occasion. The three looked like cuddly lambs, lots of curly fair hair, dark eyes and sweet faces. They’d followed their father like sheep into the police force, but they all loved it. They looked nothing like Addie with her dull locks and weird brown-flecked eyes.

As a little girl, Addie imagined she was a changeling, a princess snatched from her loving parents by elves and stuck with the Winter family. When she’d grown out of fairies, she dreamt she was adopted and one day would be rescued by the woman who’d given birth to her, a mega-rich film star. Now she was old enough to accept she was unwanted and unloved. She just didn’t know why.

“So what did his mother die of?” Joan asked.

“That flesh-eating virus,” Addie muttered and was rewarded with a shudder of revulsion that went round the table like a Mexican wave.

“And he had to scatter the ashes today? Couldn’t he have come here first and then you could have gone with him?” Joan said.

Addie made another attempt to convince her. “I told you he had to go to see the police about the stabbing.”

Hugh and Finn looked at her and she knew she’d made another mistake. David grinned. The bastard.

“You said a fight. You didn’t mention a stabbing. Where was this?” asked Hugh.

“When?” from Finn.

“Who was stabbed?” from Hugh.

“Does it take all day to give a statement?” from her mother.

Aggravated beyond sense, Addie opened her mouth, inserted both feet, both hands and her last remaining brain cell. “Okay. I give in. He’s dumped me.”

Her mother broke the stunned silence. “You lied about the stabbing.”

“No. That happened.” Addie would never admit to lying. She recognized Pandora’s box when she saw it.

“He dumped you after that kiss?” David asked.

Addie gritted her teeth. She was going to kill him.

“So what went wrong?” Joan asked.

Not the simple enquiry it might appear. Addie knew her mother was asking why Addie wasn’t married to Noah, why their children weren’t winning prizes. Her delay in responding fed the fire.

“I’m waiting,” Joan said, tapping her fingers on the table.

Addie pleaded for a tornado to sweep away her or her mother, she didn’t care.

“Your eyes are red. Do you have a hangover? Men don’t like women who drink.”

Addie sighed.

“Period pains? Constipation?”

“No,” Addie snapped and David sniggered.

“So what are you thinking about?” Joan asked.

“Nothing.” Addie knew “wishing I was dead” was
not
the right answer. She wondered if she could pretend to see a spider. They all knew the hysteria that brought on.

“Don’t lie.”

“Why aren’t I allowed to be not thinking of anything? David never looks as though he’s thinking of anything. He always looks half-vacant.” Addie glared at him.

“Well?” Joan demanded.

There was no escape. “Actually, I’m wondering how to solve the crisis in the Middle East and whether I should take up prostitution to clear my debts.”

Her mother gaped at her. Addie’s brothers laughed.

Joan’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to Noah?”

“Nothing. He dumped me because he’s moving to Qatar.”

“I warned you before, you need to change your attitude. You can’t go around without makeup, wearing scruffy clothes and expect to keep a man interested.”

They’d all walked around on broken glass since their father died, and maybe putting up with her mother’s criticism was the price Addie had to pay for getting away with the six-month lie. Noah had temporarily rescued her from a rising flood of despair.

At least they all believed he existed. She kept quiet.

“It wouldn’t hurt to wear a bit of makeup. A dash of lipstick.”

Back on target. Addie’s personal guided missile.

“I’ll have to change my Christmas letter. I’d put in a whole paragraph about how you’d finally found a lovely man,” Joan said. “I despair of you. What do you have to show for yourself? No career, husband, children. No house of your own, not like Lisa.”

Addie wished someone would stand up for her. Her brothers had their faces down.

Even Finn stayed silent and he was the only one who ever tried to defend her. Lisa flashed her a sympathetic look but kept her mouth shut.

Addie clenched her fists. “I liked Noah, but he said I was hopeless in bed. Maybe I should sleep with as many men as I can to get more experience. What do you think?

Any tips for me about that?”

There was a shocked silence and then Addie was sent to wash the dishes.

David waited until everyone was engrossed in the movie and then sidled off to speak to Finn in the dining room. Harry looked up at him from his potty.

“Not finished yet, Harry? You’re missing sweeties,” said David.

Harry screwed up his face and then smiled at his dad.

“Done,” he announced.

He stood up and the potty stayed stuck to his bottom. Finn dropped the newspaper and leapt to his feet. David started to laugh until Finn sent him a warning look.

“Clever boy. Let’s sort you out and then you can go and watch TV.”

“Takes after you,” David said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Finn asked.

“You used to spend hours in the toilet.”

“I still do. It’s the only place to get any peace. And don’t tell Sally you bribed Harry with sweets. She’ll blow a fuse.”

“You’d have been in here all afternoon.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Finn grinned.

“I wanted to ask you to do something.”

“What?”

“The guy that’s dumped Addie, there’s something not right. I don’t think he’s off to Qatar. I think they made that up between them. I got his car registration.”

“So why don’t you check up on him?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

“And I am?” Finn laughed.

“Well, no, but I’d get into more trouble than you.”

Finn shook his head. “Why bother?”

“I still think he’s married and they haven’t broken up. You should have seen them kissing. They were like teenagers.”

His brother looked at him for a few moments. “Is this about proving you’re right or protecting Addie?”

“Protecting Addie.”

Finn sighed. “For a policeman, you’re a hopeless liar. Okay, give me the number.”

“What are you two plotting?” Joan demanded as she came into the room.

“Nothing,” Finn said.

“David, a word.” His mother beckoned him with one curl of her finger.

Behind his mother’s back, David saw Finn stare hard at him and zip his mouth.

They both knew he was wasting his time.

“Adelina. Kitchen. Now,” Joan roared.

Addie had just sat down after doing all the washing up. When Finn got up too, her heart thudded.

“So he
is
married,” Joan said with a smug smile. “All that rubbish about Qatar. You should be ashamed, lying to us. Think of his wife. The poor woman. His children will be damaged forever by this. It’s no good telling me it’s his fault as much as yours. It isn’t. Men can’t help themselves. It’s their penises.”

Addie heard Finn disguising a laugh behind her. She wondered if it was worth speaking. As soon as she opened her mouth her mother leapt in again.

“I hope you used protection. It would be terrible if he passed some disease on to his wife.”

“Mum, that’s a bit harsh,” Finn said.

“I told you he’s not married,” Addie said. “But what does it matter anyway?”

“Of course it matters if you’re still seeing him.” Joan glared at her.

Addie looked to Finn for help, but he shrugged.

“If you had half the brains of your brothers…”

And that was it. “I’m going home.”

“I’ll drive you back,” Finn said.

“No, you won’t. I only get to see you for a few hours each week. If she wants to go, she can go on her own. And take that bag of clippings, Addie. You forgot it last week.”

Addie hadn’t forgotten.
The clipped out articles started the day she went to university. Whilst scouring newspapers and magazines for competitions, her mother came across items Addie needed to read to improve her life, so she cut them out to post to her. No note or letter, just large recycled envelopes full of pages on what to do if you have big feet, long legs, short hair, no bust, no dress sense, a lisp (she hadn’t), no idea how to apply makeup, low self-esteem, webbed feet and a beak. Every time an envelope arrived, a black cloud enveloped Addie’s heart because even at a distance her mother still wanted to control her.

As she left the house, she dropped the bag in next door’s wheelie bin. She caught a bus to the multi-screen cinema in Kirkstall and watched two crappy films to ensure she got home after Lisa and David had gone to bed. Addie knew she should never have come back to Leeds. She should have stayed as far away as she could.

Addie waved to Fred as she hurried across the yard to the office. He waved back, but her favorite coach driver had a grim look on his face. Already in danger of being late, she hadn’t time to ask why. Addie saw the
Booth’s Travel
sign lying on the ground and wondered if it had fallen off in the night. Maybe Fred had the job of putting it back.

Bob Booth had built up his business from a single travel agency, established in 1975, to a swarm of them now strategically placed in major towns in the north. Booth’s Travel also ran a fleet of coaches and when Royal Ascot had temporarily moved to York, Bob expanded in a small way into corporate hospitality. Addie had worked part-time for Booth’s for just over a year, in a sales and admin role she could have done straight from school. The lingering dream that Bob would one day recognize her worth and appoint her managing director had made it difficult to leave.