Authors: Isabelle Grey

The Bad Mother (36 page)

BOOK: The Bad Mother

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‘That’s kind, thank you.’

Lauren clung to her mother’s arm as Sam took the bag and placed it on the floor.

‘Thought we might give Lauren some jobs to do today, if you’re happy with that?’

‘Is that Ok, Mum?’ asked Lauren. ‘Do you mind?’

‘No, it’s a good idea. Much better for you to keep busy.’ Tessa looked into her daughter’s face. She seemed taller, brighter, more grown-up.

Nula held out a hand to Lauren. ‘Come on then.’

Tessa made a huge effort and smiled at Nula. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. Nula nodded in return, her face full only of kindness and concern. Lauren gave Tessa another hug. ‘See you later, Mum. Love you.’

Sam paused in the doorway. ‘Do you want me to stay?’

‘What if Mitch goes to your place and you’re not there?’

He looked relieved. ‘That’s what I was thinking. Better get back then.’

‘Ok.’ They both smiled gratefully but were careful not to touch one another. As Tessa closed the door behind him, she realised how easy it was to let him go.

FIFTY

Two more days passed without a word. After the fourth night not knowing where Mitch was, Tessa woke again at dawn, but this morning she opened her eyes convinced of what she must do to bring him back. She didn’t care how foolish it was to manufacture her own magic; she had to try everything she could to protect her family. More than anything else, she feared the moment when there would be no more to do.

She had not once left the house, convinced Mitch would only come home if she were there to welcome him, but today she asked Hugo and Pamela to keep vigil at home, and asked Erin for her help in accomplishing a particular task.

Neither of them spoke as they made their way to the heart of the marshes, and Erin occasionally fell behind on the narrow path. Tessa drew to a halt at the edge of a deep pool. The amber-coloured water lay eerily still, the only movement the dragonflies’ zigzag darts. The surrounding reeds barely stirred. Though the sky rose high
above them, an unbroken blue, the bleached yellow fronds stood at shoulder height, foreshortening the view almost claustrophobically. Tessa felt in her pocket for the bracelet that had lain in the bottom of her handbag since she’d eased it off her wrist in the dingy pub. She held it out in the palm of her hand while Erin watched silently, asking no explanation. Willing the smooth gold to carry with it everything she wanted to be rid of, Tessa raised her arm and cast it as far as she could out into the centre of the pool. It disappeared with barely a splash, though the dragon-flies shot away and a small bird rose from among the sedge, piping its alarm call.

‘There!’ She turned to Erin. ‘He’s gone. Out of both our lives.’ She took a deep breath of sea-laden air and released it in a long sigh.

‘I’m sorry I told you what he did to me,’ said Erin. ‘Even more sorry that it was true.’

‘It must have been awful when Averil didn’t believe you,’ said Tessa.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that, thinking maybe she did.’

Tessa remembered how difficult it was ever to know what her grandmother was thinking, to be sure that she was really as hard and unemotional as she made out. ‘But if she believed you, how could she bring herself to send you away?’

‘Don’t you see?’ asked Erin. ‘It was because she
did
believe me. She sent me as far away as she possibly could in order to protect me. And you.’

Tessa watched the insects hover over the water. ‘Because I was the child of rape?’

‘Yes.’ Erin linked her arm in Tessa’s. ‘I believe she meant to protect both of us from having to live with that.’

Tessa was not convinced: such foresight did not fit with her view of Averil.

‘When Mum said she didn’t believe me,’ Erin went on, ‘I hoped she
was
right. I wanted her to be right, and that, if I went away, it need never be true.’

‘Until I brought it all back,’ said Tessa, ‘by bringing Roy Weaver into your life again.’

Erin shrugged. ‘I did nothing to warn you. I said it was a summer romance.’

‘What else could you have done?’

Erin inspected the manicured nails of her free hand. ‘Before you were born,’ she said, ‘I was so scared that I wouldn’t be able to love you.’

‘Because of Roy Weaver?’

‘Yes. And I think Averil saw that. I
wanted
Pamela to have you.’

‘A lot of people rearranged their lives to care for me, didn’t they?’ Tessa squeezed Erin’s arm. ‘Thank you.’

‘I didn’t think I’d ever get over leaving you.’ Erin touched her head to her daughter’s for a single moment. ‘But you see, people
do
come back,’ she said. ‘And Mitch is going to come home too. I know he is.’

Together they turned away from the water and began the walk back towards Felixham. Even though Tessa had her mobile with her, she couldn’t help quickening her
pace as the first houses came into view. The streets around the beach were lively, and she concentrated on threading their way between the holidaymakers, watching out for cars cruising distractedly in search of parking spaces. The markings of a distant police car made her heart stop, and she was aware of Erin grasping her arm, but the car turned a corner, away from them. She heard a shout behind her – ‘Blanco!’ – and a Dalmatian dog lolloped past, trailing its lead.

‘Blanco!’ Tessa turned and recognised Sonia Beeston, red-faced and puffing her way up the promenade. ‘That blasted dog,’ she exclaimed, recognising Tessa in turn. ‘He’s too strong for me.’

Sonia hurried on in pursuit, and Tessa’s gaze automatically followed. The dog ran up to a car – some modern American retro model – parked outside the Seafront B&B and stopped. Coming out of a daze, Tessa realised that Blanco was enthusiastically wagging his tail in greeting in front of a lithe young figure clambering out of the passenger seat.

‘Mitch!’ Tessa screamed. She ran towards him, not caring how roughly she pushed people out of her way.

A woman with short hair that was almost the same aubergine colour as her car appeared from the driver’s side, a big smile on her face.

Tessa almost tripped over the dog, which was jumping up at Mitch, trying to lick his face. Mitch was grinning in delight and fondling the Dalmatian’s ears. Tessa had to be content with reaching out to touch her son’s shoulder.

‘Hi, Mum,’ he said shyly, pushing back the hair that flopped over downcast eyes.

The woman came up behind him as he grabbed Blanco’s lead. ‘You must be Tessa,’ she asked, holding out her hand. Bewildered, Tessa shook it.

‘This is Shirley,’ said Mitch. ‘She brought me home.’ Noticing that Erin hung back at the edge of the group, Mitch acknowledged her politely.

‘From where?’ asked Tessa, still hardly able to believe that Mitch was here, right before her, apparently unscathed. He occupied himself with making Blanco sit before handing the lead to Sonia, who, all agog, seemed reluctant to continue her walk.

‘He stayed with me in London last night,’ Shirley explained. ‘Turned up at my office looking a bit dishevelled. Said he’d been sleeping on a park bench.’

Mitch looked at Tessa apologetically. She held out her arms to him. ‘Come here!’ Mitch submitted to her hug, while she whispered in his ear: ‘I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.’

Mitch met her eyes, nodding. He seemed to find what he needed in hers, for he gave her a friendly smile. ‘Sorry if I scared you,’ he said.

‘Oh, you—!’ Tessa laughed. ‘But where have you been? I don’t understand.’

Mitch looked at Shirley, who once again spoke for him. ‘Mitch came to introduce himself a few weeks ago,’ she said. ‘I’m Shirley Weaver. Your aunt.’

Before Tessa could quite take this in, Hugo appeared beside her. ‘Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes!’

‘Hi, Grandpa,’ Mitch said. He dipped his head, inviting Hugo to ruffle his hair.

Tessa found herself crying, and Hugo, laughing, put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. ‘All’s well that ends well.’

‘Where’s Pamela?’ asked Erin. ‘We should go and tell her.’

‘We must call Sam and Lauren too,’ said Hugo.

Tessa turned to Shirley. ‘Will you come in? Please?’ she added, seeing Shirley hesitate.

‘I’d love to, thanks.’

Hugo shepherded everyone indoors. In the hallway, Mitch turned to Tessa. ‘I lost my phone. Has Tamsin called?’

‘Yes. She left her number.’

Mitch’s face went pink. ‘Can I call her now? Do you mind?’

‘Call your dad first.’

‘Ok.’

‘I wrote Tamsin’s number in my day book. It’s on the desk.’

Mitch went into the office and closed the door. Erin, already calling out to Pamela, disappeared downstairs with Hugo. Tessa turned to Shirley. ‘Is Mitch Ok?’ she asked quietly.

Shirley nodded. ‘I think so. I didn’t ask questions, just fed him and washed his clothes.’

‘I can never thank you enough.’

‘I happened to be nearby, that’s all. And he’s a nice kid. You should be proud.’

‘You’d better come and meet the rest of the family.’ And Tessa led the way to the kitchen where Hugo and both her mothers were waiting.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My thanks first to Tony Moores not only for reading but also for showing such compassion towards my characters. This story began in my head a long time ago, so some people may have forgotten the help they provided. For my experience of prison visiting, my thanks to everyone at the New Bridge. I would also like to thank Claire Baker, Hanna Bottomley, Elizabeth Buchan, Lisa Cohen, Geoffrey Munn, Angela Neustatter, Merle Nygate, Elaine Randell, Geoff Weston, my wonderful agent Sheila Crowley and the team at Curtis Brown and my equally wonderful editor Jane Wood and all the gang at Quercus. All errors are my own.

BOOK CLUB QUESTIONS

Which of the four mothers in the novel is the bad mother?

Do the fathers in the story influence events as much as the mothers?

Tessa struggles to find a balance between meeting her children’s needs and meeting her own. Does she get it right?

Is it fair for Tessa to blame previous generations for her present predicament?

Given the circumstances, was Averil right to cut Erin off from her daughter?

Would it have been better for Tessa to have been adopted outside the family?

Is Pamela’s guilt helpful?

Should Tessa have been less trusting of her biological father, or was she right to meet him with an open heart?

Do all parents strive to over-correct a previous generation’s errors?

Can any of us escape the influence of our childhoods?

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Available from:
www.amazon.co.uk
www.quercusbooks.co.uk