Perfect Blend: A Novel (36 page)

It seemed that Victoria’s position was based on her rethinking her own role as a stay-at-home mother. “My shrink thinks I need to stop focusing on the children and get a broader perspective.”

“That makes sense.”

“So I thought I might apply to do a law degree and maybe train as an attorney.”

“You want to do a second degree?”

“Why not? Studying has always appealed to me. And just think—if Simon and I get divorced, I won’t need to hire a lawyer.”

Amy wasn’t sure what to say to that.

“I’m joking,” Victoria said, laughing. “Actually, Simon and I are getting along heaps better.”

ONE NIGHT
, Brian arranged a thank-you slash celebration dinner for Amy in Chinatown. Bel, Charlie, and Zelma came. Amy and Charlie arrived a bit late because they had stopped at Ruby’s to drop off her thank-you chocolates. Amy had just finished thanking Zelma for the flowers when she noticed that Brian had had his hair cut again. That wasn’t all. For the first time ever he was wearing a shirt and a jacket. All three women told him he looked hot, except Zelma used the word “dapper.” “And I swear you’ve lost a couple of pounds,” she said, giving his abdomen a motherly pat.

He said it was just the cut of the jacket making him look slimmer. But he admitted to feeling calmer and said that as a result he was eating a bit less. Zelma said he would look like a matinee idol in no time.

Zelma made a huge fuss over Charlie, rolling his duck pancakes for him and telling him what a nosh he was and how she wished she had a little boy like him.

“What’s ‘nosh’ mean?” Charlie said.

“It means you’re so adorable I could eat you.” With that she pinched his cheek.

“But if you think somebody is adorable, why would you want to eat them?”

Zelma laughed and piled some more Singapore noodles into his bowl.

They all got a bit tipsy, apart from Zelma, who stuck to sparkling water. Charlie had enormous fun trying to use chopsticks. Even when the waiter came over and fastened them together with an elastic band, he still managed to get more sweet-and-sour pork over himself and the tablecloth than in his mouth. Even though the dinner was in her honor, Amy couldn’t help feeling a bit removed from it all. She didn’t want to spoil the atmosphere by going on about how much she wished Sam was there and how she was struggling not just with Roy Hargreaves’s job offer but with the half dozen or so others that had come in.

As well as doing interviews for the British and European networks, Amy did live links to
The Daily Show, Larry King
, and
Oprah
.

On Friday evening, just as she was leaving Capital Radio, Roy Hargreaves rang to ask if she’d made up her mind about his job offer.

“I have.”

“And.”

“And …” She took a deep breath. “I have decided that I very much want a career as an investigative journalist, but I’m going to take my chances as a freelancer. My professional life has to fit in around my son.”

“You are making a big mistake. Have you any idea how hard you are making it for yourself without any contacts?”

“Yes, but I’m willing to take that chance.”

He told her she was barking mad, but at least he had the good grace to wish her luck.

She found herself thinking about the other job offers she’d received. So far she hadn’t gotten back to any of the editors with a decision. Tonight she would sit down and write polite e-mails turning the offers down and letting the editors know that she was available for freelance work.

WHEN AMY
got home, Val was in the kitchen dishing up one of her magnificent roast dinners. She kissed her mum hello.

“Mum, thank you so much for all you’ve done this week. I don’t know how I could have managed without you.”

“Oh, don’t be daft. What are mums for?”

“I got you this. Just to say thank you.”

Val wiped her hands on a tea towel and took the envelope from Amy. “Darling, I don’t want anything. You know how much I enjoy looking after Charlie.”

“I know, but I just wanted to say how much I appreciate it.”

Val took the gift voucher out of the envelope. “Ooh, a massage and pedicure at the Sanctuary. You are naughty. But I will definitely enjoy this.”

“Love you, Mum,” Amy said, hugging her mother.

“I love you, too, darling.”

They were still in midhug when Amy said: “By the way, I’ve turned down the staff job at
The Daily Post
. Maybe other women in my position would have taken it, but Charlie has to be my first priority. I’ve decided to take my chances freelancing. It’ll be a struggle because I’m starting off without any contacts, but I’ll get there.”

Val pulled back to look at her daughter. “Of course you will. I didn’t want to influence you, darling, but I’m sure you’ve made the right decision.”

After dinner, Amy sat with Charlie while he had his bath and said how sorry she was that she hadn’t been around that week apart from when they all went out to dinner.

“It’s been tough on you, I know. I’ve hated not getting back in time to read to you and tuck you in.”

“Don’t worry. Grandma finished
The Twits
, and we’ve started on
The BFG
. And Grandma is a really good cooker. She makes spaghetti with chicken sauce. I wish you’d make that.”

Amy said she would ask Val for the recipe. “So you’ve had fun, then?”

He nodded. Amy said she was glad.

Afterward, Charlie got into bed and they chatted and read stories for over an hour. He fell asleep while she was still reading. She kissed him on the forehead. “Love you, poppet,” she whispered. She turned out his light and went back into the kitchen. Val had just finished loading the dishwasher.

Amy asked how things were between her and Trevor.

“Well, the other night he actually sat through a couple of episodes of
Sex and the City
. We ate popcorn, drank a bottle of wine. I’m not going to pretend he loved it, but he knows our relationship can’t be all about him. Having said that, I’ve decided to go on a meditation course. I think it might be a way to get a taste of his world. So we’re making progress.”

“You know,” Amy said, “Victoria and I were sort of hoping that you and Dad might get back together. We watched the two of you stacking the dishwasher together at Arthur’s party and thought how well you seemed to be getting along.”

“These days, we do get on in short bursts. That doesn’t mean we could live together again. I will always be angry with your dad for the way he treated me, and like you said, he needs to be with somebody who needs him.”

“Well, if you’re happy …”

“I am, darling. I truly am.”

Amy found herself thinking about Sam. Her sadness must have been obvious, because the next moment Val was hugging her. “You will find somebody else, darling. I promise.”

Amy looked at her mother. “I don’t want anybody else.”

Chapter 16

“
PLEASE, MUM. CAN I
get it, please? It’s got pictures of pythons and vipers and everything. And look, here’s one of an anaconda. That’s the biggest snake in the world, Mrs. Ogilvy said.”

Amy and Charlie were in the station bookshop, at the start of their annual trip to Cornwall. They were going to the cottage Amy rented for a week each summer.

Since they had a four-hour journey ahead of them, Amy knew that Charlie would require reading material. He had picked up two or three comics along with
The Scary Book of Snakes
. Amy had no objection to him reading about snakes. What she objected to was the price: fifteen quid for what was little more than a kids’ picture book.

“Please. Can I?”

Amy let out a sigh. They were on holiday. “Okay, go on. Take it to the till.”

Brian and Bel were supposed to come with them on the trip, but Brian was in bed with stomach flu. Amy had offered to stay and help Zelma at the café, but Brian wouldn’t hear of it. He had managed to find a couple of reasonably competent students to fill in, and Bel was lending a hand, too, as she wasn’t working.

Amy wasn’t feeling great either. It wasn’t just that Sam hadn’t phoned. She appeared to have caught Brian’s bug, albeit in a milder form. She didn’t have a fever and was managing to get up each morning, but she was feeling sick and didn’t have much energy or appetite.

As usual they were catching an early train so that they could have breakfast on board. Charlie thought it was the best fun to eat bacon, sausages, and eggs as the countryside sped by. Since breakfast was always served in first class on damask tablecloths with waiters pouring tea and coffee from silver pots, it had always been a treat for Amy, too, but today she couldn’t face a fry up. Instead she made do with dry toast and orange juice.

After breakfast, they went back into economy and Charlie settled down with his scary snake book. Amy gazed out of the window. Her mind was full of Sam. Despite everything that had happened, she couldn’t stop loving and wanting him. What distressed her most was the thought of him turning out to be Charlie’s father and refusing to play a role in his son’s life. That would break her heart. She was expecting the DNA test result any day.

Every so often Charlie would interrupt her thoughts with a fact about cobras or vipers or because he needed help with a word he couldn’t read.

They took a taxi from Bodmin to Trescothick Strand. Charlie called it “our village.” After half an hour, the busy highway full of holiday traffic gave way to fields and narrow winding lanes with six-foot-high hedges. Ten minutes more and they hit Trescothick’s main—and only—street. They drove past the Saxon church, the Tudor pub, and the general store that had been built just after the First World War and was still considered by some to be a modern eyesore.

Amy rented Trevelyan Cottage from a local farmer. It was perched at the top of a cliff known as Polruan Mount. The only way to reach it was along a lumpy but mercifully short un-made-up road. “We’re here. We’re here,” Charlie cried as the taxi started to bump and roll. It was then that they got a glimpse of the sea. “Look, Mum, there’s a tanker. And some sailing boats. Maybe this year we could get me a dinghy.”

Amy smiled at him. “We’ll see.”

As they rounded the next bend, Amy saw the steps that led down to their very own private beach. Technically speaking, it wasn’t really private, but since nobody knew it was there except a few locals, it amounted to the same thing.

They climbed out of the cab, and Amy produced a couple of twenty-pound notes from her purse to pay the driver. While she stood filling her lungs with the warm, sweet air, Charlie ran up to the weatherboarded house. It appeared to have received a fresh coat of duck-egg-blue paint since their last visit, unlike the ancient tumbledown barn that stood a few yards away.

Before Charlie had a chance to knock on the cottage door, it swung open. A moment later, Colin, one of the farm laborers, who looked after the place with his wife, was throwing Charlie in the air and telling him how much he had grown. Charlie always referred to Colin as “old Colin” because of his weathered, rawhide face, but Amy would have put money on him not being a day over fifty.

“Me and the missus have got it all ready for you,” Colin said, scratching his head under his flat cap. “There’s bread, milk, eggs, butter, a nice bit of homegrown ham, and some of our own apples—all the basics to get you going. There’s even Internet now.”

“Colin, thank you so much. Let me know what I owe you.”

Colin said not to worry now, they’d sort it out at the end of the week.

He handed Amy the front door key. “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it. I’m on my mobile if you need anything.”

“Can I come and see the lambs and the pigs one day?” Charlie piped up.

“’Course you can, young fella. And there’s some baby rabbits in the barn, but make sure you put them back in their cage when you’ve finished petting them.”

Charlie nodded.

“Good boy.”

With that, Colin climbed into his pickup, and they waved him off.

INSIDE THE
house, the ceilings were low and beamed. The downstairs was open plan: a decent-sized living room leading into a farmhouse kitchen. The living room walls were tongue and groove, painted the same pale blue as the exterior. Some were draped in fishermen’s nets. Cheesy seascapes painted by local artists hung from others. A shelved alcove contained conch shells, starfish, and stained glass fishing floats. There were two white sofas, an old pine dining table, and a whitewashed stone fireplace with a mantel made from a single piece of driftwood.

The kitchen contained “the beast”—an elderly Aga stove that Amy still hadn’t gotten the measure of. There was also a ceramic farmhouse sink and kitchen units with red check gingham curtains instead of doors.

Upstairs there were three bedrooms and an attic box room with painted pine chests of drawers and cast-iron Victorian bedsteads. Each of the rooms looked out onto the garden, which was full of sweet peas, lavender, and honeysuckle.

Charlie ran into the barn to see the baby rabbits, leaving his mother to unpack. Later on she sliced some of the ham Colin had left and made a salad to go with it. Charlie wolfed his down while telling her all about the rabbits, but once again Amy only picked at hers.

That night, they were both asleep before it was dark.

The sound of seagulls woke them the next morning. Charlie came bouncing into Amy’s room, and they snuggled under the duvet, planning their day. They agreed that they would go into the village for more supplies. If the general store sold dinghies—which Amy decided it most probably did since it seemed to stock everything from car batteries to tampons—they would buy one and take it down to the shore.

In between sailing his dinghy—with Amy at his side, shivering in freezing waist-high water—Charlie collected shells and explored rock pools. On Saturday the wind got up, and he was able to fly his kite. That was also the day she read in
The Daily Post
that Bean Machine had gone into liquidation along with its subsidiaries, including CremCo. Hugh Cavendish and several of his colleagues had been charged with endangering public health by food adulteration.

On Sunday morning, Amy rang Brian to see how he was doing.

“’lo.” Groggy as the voice sounded, Amy was in little doubt about who had picked up the phone.

“Bel?”

“Yeah. Wassup? What time is it?”

“After ten. I was phoning to see how Brian was.”

“I’ll pass you over. He can tell you himself.”

“Whoa … hang on. Are you in bed with Brian?”

Bel started to giggle. “I cannot tell a lie.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I think it was the chicken soup that did it.”

“Ah, yes, the aphrodisiac qualities of chicken soup are well known.”

“Very funny. No … what happened was that Zelma kept sending me round to Brian with her homemade chicken soup. I think she was secretly matchmaking because she refused to take it herself. Anyway, I’d stay for a few hours, we’d get talking, and then, as he started to get better, one thing led to another.”

“Hang on. I’m confused. Is this just another casual one-nighter or …?”

“No. We’re in love.”

“You cannot be serious.”

Amy could hear Bel speaking to Brian. “Bri, do you love me?”

“Crazy about you. Always have been, but don’t tell Amy; she’ll never let me live it down.”

“And Bri … what’s the bit you love most about me?”

“The dark and very irregular birthmark on your left buttock.”

“Did you get that?” Bel said to Amy. “The man who has spent years looking for physical perfection in a woman loves my birthmark.”

“I got it,” Amy said, “but why has it taken you all this time to realize you were both crazy about each other? I could always see it. Even Zelma could see it.”

“It’s complicated. Long story short: Brian and I had a relationship based on competition and piss taking. Then we started to fancy each other, but despite that one night we had together, neither of us was prepared to let on because it meant becoming vulnerable to each other. So we just carried on pretending nothing had changed. Then, when Brian got ill, he let down his guard and I was able to do the same. Pretty soon we were telling each other how we really felt about our relationship. So there you have it.”

“Well, I am really happy. In fact, I couldn’t be happier. My two best friends falling in love. What a result.”

“That’s not the only result.”

“How d’you mean?”

“You are listening to the voice of James Bond’s satnav.”

“Get out of here! That’s amazing. You must be over the moon.”

“Just a bit.” Bel laughed. “I still can’t quite believe it. You know what? I’ve decided I don’t care if I never make it as a proper actor. That’s not to say if I got the chance to play Lady Macbeth I’d turn it down, but I’ve reached the pinnacle of the automated announcement tree. It may not be the greatest pinnacle, but as pinnacles go, it’s okay.”

Amy was aware of some giggling in the background. “No, Brian, stoppit. I’m on the phone. You’ll have to wait.”

“Sorry,” Bel said to Amy. “Brian has woken in a somewhat frolicsome mood … Gerroff … So, are you and Charlie having a good time?”

“Actually, I’m not feeling that brilliant. I’m wondering if I should see the local doctor. I’ve got this constant nausea. At first I thought I had Brian’s bug, but my period is late …”

“Omigod. Are you serious?”

“What else could it be? I’ve always assumed that because my mother hit menopause in her thirties, I would do the same. I haven’t so far, but for the last few years I’ve assumed I must be heading that way and that my fertility has to be down. And what with Sam supposedly being sterile, there was this one time when we didn’t use any contraception …”

“God, Amy, it only takes one time. What a pair of idiots … Right, you have to do a test.”

“I know, but what if I am pregnant? I’m assuming Sam won’t want to know. So worst-case scenario, Sam is not only the father of the child I’m carrying but is Charlie’s dad, too, and he refuses to have anything to do with either of them.”

“Okay, I admit this isn’t looking brilliant, but you’re trying to second-guess Sam and getting way ahead of yourself. First find out if you’re pregnant. Then take it from there. You’re not on your own. You’ve got me and Brian. We’re here if you need us, right?”

“Okay … And thanks.”

“There’s no need for thanks. You’d be there in a heartbeat if either of us needed help.”

THE WIDE-RANGING
supplies at the general store didn’t extend to pregnancy testing kits. This meant taking the bus into Bodmin to buy one.

Charlie wanted to know why he was being dragged around town when he could be sailing in his dinghy. Amy told him she was still feeling poorly and needed to get some stomach tablets from the druggist.

When they got back, Charlie went into the garden to hunt for insects and Amy went into the bathroom to pee on the stick. By now her mind was filling with what-ifs and her heart was pounding. She left the test to “cook” and went into the living room to check her e-mail.

She had one e-mail. The title was “DNA test result.” A stomach lurch now accompanied her racing pulse. “Omigod. Talk about perfect timing.” She let out a slightly manic laugh. Here she was waiting to see if she was pregnant with baby number two, and at the same time she was about to find out if her ex-boyfriend, the father of baby number two, was also the father of baby number one. She tried to work out which test result she would rather get first. In the end she decided it didn’t matter. She clicked on the e-mail and started reading. “Blah, blah blah …” She stopped and let out a long, slow breath. “Huh … Whadda you know?”

Just then she heard the crunch of tires on gravel. Who could that be? Jerry Springer?

She looked out of the window to see Sam coming toward the house. What on earth was he doing here? How had he found her? She opened the door. “Sam! Gosh! What a surprise. How did you know where I was?”

“Bel told me.” He looked anxious and determined at the same time.

“But I spoke to Bel this morning. She never said you were back.”

“Maybe she thought you might try to avoid me … Can I come in?”

“Sorry. Yes, of course.” She led him toward one of the sofas. “What can I get you? Tea? Coffee? Oh, I forgot you don’t like coffee. I’ve got hot chocolate, though. Or some rather nice elderflower cordial.” It occurred to her that if he was about to fly into a rage over her behavior after the fire, he was unlikely to be placated by offers of hot and cold beverages.

“So how did you get on in Rwanda?”

“Fine. The school project is back on track, and we’re on the point of buying some land to build a new hospital … Amy, can we discuss this later? We really need to talk. Why don’t you sit down.”

“Okay,” she said, “but first I want to apologize for calling you a manipulative bastard. It was an appalling thing to say, and I didn’t mean it. Did that chap Olivier at the school give you my message?”

“He did, and thank you. But you were right to be furious. I let you down. I still can’t forgive myself for not checking on Charlie. If you hadn’t come back when you did, I dread to think what might have happened. I was an idiot, and I’m sorry.”