Pieces of My Heart (3 page)

‘Charlie! It’s eight o’clock in the morning,’ I said, glaring at him.

‘Hey, Charlie, are you moaning about your love life, or lack of it, again?’ asked Sarah, plonking herself down on the chair beside him.

‘Yes, I bloody well am. It’ll shrivel up and drop off if I don’t get some action soon.’

‘If you’re really desperate, you could always pay someone?’ Sarah suggested.

‘Well, I must say this is lovely breakfast conversation,’ said Paul.

‘That’s enough, thank you, Sarah,’ I said curtly, ‘and you need to take your makeup off. You look ridiculous.’

‘Muuuuum,
everyone
wears makeup in school now. It’s no big deal. Only total nerds don’t. Do you want me to be a social outcast?’

‘If it helps you focus more on your studies, then that would be fine,’ said Paul. ‘You should take a leaf out of your sister’s book.’

‘Newsflash! I’m going to be an actress, not a doctor, so I really don’t need to get ten zillion points in my finals like brainbox Ali. Besides, in case you forgot, I’m on my transition year, which is all about exploring your creative side, so I don’t need to study.’

‘After your poor results last summer, you’ll be studying extra hard this year,’ I said. ‘We’ve discussed this already, Sarah. There’ll be less drama and more work from now on.’

‘Ava Gardner – now, there was a dramatic actress. She had the best face in Hollywood,’ said Charlie.

‘Is that why you named Mum after her? Because she was your favourite actress?’ Ali asked.

He shook his head. ‘Not really. Your grandmother Moira wanted to call your mother Noreen. I said no way was a daughter of mine going around with a rotten name like Noreen. I wanted her to have a good strong name. Something different. Something people would remember.’

‘Oh, they remembered all right. I was the only Ava in Ireland,’ I said, laughing. ‘But I am glad you saved me from being called Noreen – it would have been much worse.’

‘So I did something right,’ he grumbled.

‘Yes, Charlie, you did,’ I said, kissing his head.

‘OK, come on, eat up, you lot – you don’t want to be late on your first day,’ said Paul.

‘I’m knackered,’ Sarah muttered, as she stood up to reach for the cereal. ‘Getting up at half seven is obscene.’

‘Pull your skirt down, for God’s sake. It’s school you’re going to, not a disco,’ said Paul, frowning at Sarah’s hoisted-up uniform.

‘Hellooo! How else am I going to show off my tan?’

‘I’ll tan your hide in a minute, missy,’ said Paul.

‘Dad, you know I don’t understand when you talk like a bogman,’ said Sarah.

‘Don’t be so cheeky,’ Paul replied, trying to stifle a smile.

‘I’m not being cheeky, I’m being honest. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Well, that makes two of us, because half the time I’ve no idea what you’re saying either,’ said Paul, gulping down the last of his coffee and making for the door. ‘I’m gone. See you all later.’ The door slammed shut behind him. I tried to remember the last time I’d got a goodbye kiss.

‘Get out there and sow your wild oats,’ shouted Charlie, as the girls went to get their coats and bags. ‘You’re only young once.’

‘Seriously, Charlie, can you please tone it down? Don’t encourage Sarah – she’s a handful as it is.’

‘She’s spirited.’

‘High spirits can get you into trouble.’

‘She’s a grand girl. She’s just different from Alison. It doesn’t mean she’s wild.’

‘I know I shouldn’t compare them, but Ali’s been such a dream daughter. I’ve never had to worry about her.’

‘She’s a gem, all right, but sometimes I think she takes life too seriously,’ said Charlie.

The kitchen door opened. ‘Mum, we’re going to be late,’ said Ali, looking worried.

‘Coming,’ I said, grabbing my keys from the counter and heading for the door.

As we pulled up outside the school, Sarah snapped off her seatbelt. ‘
Oh
, my God, there’s Bobby Masterson-Brown – how fit is he?’

Alison and I peered at a tall, broad boy with badly highlighted hair and saggy trousers, strutting across the grass.

‘He looks ridiculous,’ I said.

‘Mum, you have no idea what’s cool these days. Bobby’s hot.’

‘Where’s David?’ I asked. Ali blushed. She had now been going out with David for six weeks. He had called into the house the week before and seemed nice in that gawky teenage, monosyllabic way. He was very good-looking, like a young Johnny Depp. I could see why so many girls fancied him. Ali seemed almost in awe of him. I had to keep reminding her how lucky he was.

‘I’m meeting him outside the gym in five minutes,’ she said, beaming.

‘There’s Elaine,’ squeaked Sarah. ‘Oh, my God, she’s, like, black. The bitch! I’ve got to find out what fake tan she’s using. Later, Mum.’

‘OK, ’bye,’ I said, as the door slammed and I watched my younger child hiking up her skirt and screeching as she met her friends.

‘I’d better go, too. I’ll see you later,’ said Ali, kissing me on the cheek. She walked over to greet her best friend, Donna, and they headed inside together, arms linked.

It never ceased to amaze me how two daughters born of the same parents could be so completely different. Ali was blonde, green-eyed, studious, shy, gentle, thoughtful and sensitive. Sarah was less conventionally pretty. She had long dark hair and nice blue eyes, but she had inherited her father’s strong jaw, which looked good on a man but out of place on a girl. She had also been born with incredible self-confidence. She had a really bubbly, outgoing personality, a wide group of friends and a constant stream of admirers.

While Ali focused on studying, Sarah focused on her social life. Ali had one true best friend, Donna, while Sarah seemed to have a new best friend every week. They were like chalk and cheese, but they got on very well. As an only child I envied their closeness. I would have loved to have a sister to talk to growing up. I hoped that, despite their different personalities, they would always be close.

I turned the car around and headed to work. Sally was back from her holidays today and I was dying to catch up with her. Our children’s party business, Happy Dayz – which we’d set up ten years ago as kind of a hobby on the side – was now really successful, which was fantastic, but I’d missed Sally when she was away. We had expanded from kids’ events to sweet sixteens and even, sometimes, eighteenth and twenty-first birthdays. I had been swamped over the last few weeks and had been coming home late every night. I wanted to be around more for the girls now that they were back in school, so I’d be happy to share the workload again – and the gossip.

While I focused on the creative side, working with the parents on party themes, food, decoration, gifts and entertainment, Sally did the books, the website, organized suppliers and hired and fired all the part-time staff. In the ten years we had been up and running, we had seen parties go from fairly simple princess and pirate themes to wedding-like extravaganzas. It was never dull and I loved it.

I pulled into the office space Sally and I rented, which held our stock of basic party essentials – bouncy castles, little tables and chairs, boxes of balloons, banners, costumes, music, face paint,
piñatas
, gift bags, candles and industrial-size jars of sweets. We had found a wonderful chef, Helen, who made birthday cakes and did all of the food that was more complicated than sandwiches and sausages, which I managed. As I was getting out of my car, my mobile rang.

‘Hello?’

‘I not working in you house any more,’ said Magda, our Polish cleaning lady.

‘What’s wrong? What happened?’

‘You daddy is bad man. Very bad.’

‘Oh, no, what did he do?’

‘He is hiding and jumping out, like tiger. I very scared. My heart stop. I tell him he very bad man. He laugh and then he try to do kissy-kissy.’

‘I’m so sorry, Magda. I promise I’ll talk to him and he won’t do it again. Please don’t leave.’ Magda had been with us for years. She was a life-saver – I’d die if she left.

‘I have husband in Poland. I no kissy-kissy other man. You daddy old and ugly. I tell him. He say, “I pay you for the sex.” I not prostitute. I good Catholic girl.’

Jesus, when had my father turned into a sexual predator?

‘OK, Magda, the next time he tries to kiss you, just hit him over the head with the brush. You have my full permission to use violence.’

There was silence.

‘Magda?’

‘I am already using little bit of violence today.’

‘Is he all right?’ I asked, suddenly worried. Magda was built like a shot-putter. My father was five foot seven and wiry. My money was on Magda in a fight.

‘Ya, he OK. He not jumping any more.’

‘Put him on to me.’

‘Hnnnlo?’

‘Charlie? What the hell are you doing, sexually assaulting my cleaning lady?’

‘Stupid cow doke my nobe.’

‘What?’

‘Stupid cow doke my nobe!’

I heard a scuffle and then Magda’s voice came back on the phone: ‘I think you come now. I give you daddy slap on nose. He not happy.’

‘I’m on my way,’ I said, sighing as I turned the car around.

4

I stormed into the house to find Charlie lying on the couch with a bloody towel held to his nose. Magda was sitting beside him, drinking a small glass of brandy. They were laughing.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I asked.

‘Magda and I had a small misunderstanding,’ said Charlie, sitting up to reveal his squashed nose.

‘I can see that,’ I snapped.

‘You daddy give me this for shock,’ said Magda, gulping the brandy.

‘I see,’ I said, trying to remain calm. ‘Charlie, can I have a word in private, please?’

‘Oh dear, Magda, I’m in trouble,’ he said, winking at her as she giggled. What had happened to the furious phone call about sexual abuse?

I dragged Charlie into the kitchen, leaving Magda to finish her drink. ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed at him.

‘I’m having a conversation with Magda. Did you know she comes from a small town two hundred miles north of Warsaw?’

‘Yes, I did. Charlie, I don’t want her ringing me in a state and breaking your nose.’

‘I don’t think it’s actually broken. Magda just got the wrong end of the stick. I asked her for sex, offered to pay for her trouble, and she thought I was accusing her of being a prostitute. When I explained that I hadn’t had sex in six years and was just desperate to get some action, she took pity on me.’

‘She had sex with you?’ I gasped.

‘Sadly, no. But she said she has a friend who might oblige.’

‘Charlie, you’re sixty-eight years old. You can’t go around propositioning women. You could get arrested.’

‘I may be in my sixties, but there’s life in the old dog yet,’ he said.

‘Look, I’m asking you as a favour to me – your daughter – to stay away from Magda and don’t give her any more drink.’ I looked at my watch. ‘I have to go now. I’m late for work. Just behave yourself and don’t grope Magda – or anyone else who happens to ring the doorbell for that matter.’

I went back to Magda, who was nestled into the couch with her feet up on the coffee-table, polishing off her brandy. ‘I’m off now, Magda. My father won’t bother you any more.’

‘It OK now, Ava. I understand. Poor Daddy marry bad lady who always drunk. He don’t have sex for long, long time. He is sad man. I help him.’

‘No, Magda, honestly, he doesn’t need to be encouraged. Thanks all the same, but please don’t help him. Just … ignore him.’

‘You daddy just lonely. I lonely, too. I not wanting the sex with you daddy, but I have friend who maybe have the sex. I ask.’

‘Please don’t ask your friend. My daddy needs to calm down. Look, I have to go. I’ll talk to you next week,’ I said, running out the door. ‘Oh, and, Magda, no more violence. If he starts acting up again, just lock him in his room or something.’

I finally got into work. Sally was on the phone, her long brown legs on the desk, berating one of our suppliers. She waved at me as I came in.

‘What do you mean you don’t have thirty-four Spiderman chair covers? I need them for Saturday at two o’clock so you’d better bloody find them. Don’t even think of calling me back. If you have to paint them yourself, just do it.’

‘Welcome back!’ I said, leaning over to hug her. ‘You look amazing. You’re as brown as a berry. God, I’ve missed you – I’m no good at doing the books and dealing with grumpy suppliers. Besides which, Charlie’s lost the plot completely.’

‘Tell me all!’

‘He just sexually assaulted Magda.’

‘Jesus Christ! My money’s on Magda. I bet he didn’t get very far.’

‘He got a bloody nose for himself.’

Sally threw her head back and whooped. ‘Good old Magda.’

‘What am I going to do with him? I found Viagra in his bedroom.’

‘Come on, Ava, he’s had a miserable twenty years. He needs to let loose for a while.’

‘I’m all for him enjoying life, but he has to calm down a bit. I don’t want him rushing into another relationship, like he did with Catherine.’

‘He’s nearly seventy, I doubt he’s looking to fall in love. He just needs to get laid. How does Paul feel about Charlie living with you?’

I sank back into my chair. If I was to be honest, I didn’t know. Paul and I never seemed to chat any more. It was always just swapping information about the girls or work or who was picking up the dry-cleaning/dinner/weed-killer/light bulbs … We needed some time to ourselves, but there never was any.

‘He seems OK about it. Since they added the fancy beer garden in May, the pub’s been getting busier and busier, which is great, but it means he’s always at work. He’s very tolerant of Charlie – they’ve always got on well – and it’s only for a couple of months.’

‘And the girls?’

‘They adore him, of course, but I’m not sure he’s a very good influence on them. He’s constantly complaining about not having any sex.’

Sally sighed knowingly. ‘Well, that’s what happens when you don’t get any action. It starts to consume you.’

‘What about Spain? Did you meet some hunky Spaniard to share your sangria with?’

‘No, no hunky men for me, I’m afraid. I did meet a lot of short, sunburnt Irish and Englishmen, most of whom were married and those few who weren’t were far more interested in their golf game than dating a woman. I’m telling you, Ava, if I don’t meet someone soon, I may end up in bed with your dad.’