The Vintage Teacup Club (28 page)

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like I did that night. Sometimes when I went out Dan would be on my mind, or I’d be thinking about work – but now all I felt was the warmth of these friendships. I looked over at Alison and Maggie opposite me, squabbling over the prawn crackers, and felt sure that we were going to be in one another’s lives for good.

‘You don’t know what’s up next, do you, Jen?’ Alison said.

‘What? There’s more?’ I’d genuinely thought that after the naked man I was off the hook.

‘Did you really think Chloe was going to let you off this easily?’ she replied.

‘You have to tell me,’ I said, leaning closer, taking advantage of the fact that Chloe was deep
in conversation with one of our work friends at the other end of the table. ‘I mean it. You know I hate surprises.’

‘Ooh I couldn’t,’ Alison teased. Then Annie, leaning over, a little worse for wear by now, mouthed at me ‘KAR-A-O-KE.’

‘Yes!’ I whispered back at them both, ‘
brilliant
.’ Chloe had come up trumps. I’d always had a thing for karaoke, and there was a private room above the Fox and Pheasant where we’d go after work sometimes. Chloe doing her Tina Turner to ‘Nutbush City Limits’ tended to be a highlight. I have a godawful voice but it’s never mattered, we always ended up in stitches.

I was biting into a prawn wonton when I heard the door to the restaurant open behind me, and felt a breeze on the back of my neck.

‘You wait until—’ Alison started. But then she stopped mid-sentence and her face took on a more serious expression.

‘What is it?’ I said, following her gaze over my shoulder.

There, beside all the women who I knew I could count on, stood the woman who had walked out on me.

Nothing can prepare you for meeting a mirror image of yourself. I’d never realised my mum and I looked so alike until she was there, in the Chinese restaurant, hovering by the table and waiting for me to say
hello. It was clear from Alison’s reaction that she had noticed it too. It’s odd. I’d seen pictures of my mum, of course, but the similarities hadn’t come across in those. They were Dad’s faded old seventies prints and none of them had really been sharp enough for me to make out the features that were my own. But I could see it now.

I’d had quite a bit to drink which made it harder to take everything in. I found myself focusing on just one point, on her mouth which looked just like mine, the same full lips, but with lipstick. The room began to spin.

‘Jenny,’ she said, holding her arms out, only a slight tremble in her voice betraying her calm manner. ‘Look at you.’

I turned from my mum back to Alison, whose concerned expression prompted me to say, ‘Yes, it’s her.’ My voice sounded croaky. ‘I think I’d better do this on my own.’

As I turned back to face my mum, I heard Alison pass on the message and gently herd my friends away. I had a vague awareness of the women I’d come with leaving, saw them out of the corner of my eye, whispering and gathering up their things. I kissed goodbye to one familiar face, then another, felt gentle, reassuring touches on my arm as the hens trooped out. I heard Maggie say I could call her later, whatever time it was, but I don’t think I even answered. My mother
was still there, looking me over.

‘What a beautiful woman you’ve turned into,’ she said, smiling. Her expression seemed relaxed, but there was an awkwardness to her stance that reminded me we should probably be sitting down.

When I turned back to the table, it was nearly empty. My mother squeezed onto the padded seat opposite me, got herself settled and took my hands in hers. Her eyes were watery. ‘Wow. You really are all grown up.’

‘Mum.’ I sort of squeaked it, in a voice that didn’t sound like mine. I knew instinctively that this was my mother; but I didn’t really know this woman at all. Her hair was bright with white-blonde highlights, her lips were painted a deep red, and she was wearing leather trousers, heeled boots and an electric blue ruffled blouse. I felt invisible in my slate grey wrap dress, even with my chunky green necklace and Jimmy Choos.

‘Congratulations, Jenny.’ She reached under the table and squeezed my knee. She smelled of caked foundation and perfume. The scent didn’t bring back any memory of my childhood, like I’d sometimes idly imagined it would. ‘Have you been having a good night?’ she asked.

‘Mum.’ Some of my strength was returning at last. ‘What are you doing here?’

Her face fell a little. ‘Oh love,’ she glanced around, dodging my stare, ‘I know you didn’t respond to my email, but email’s not always the best way, is it? So impersonal, not right for catching up at
all.’ She rearranged some strands of hair in her fringe as she spoke. ‘So when I found out about your little shindig tonight, well Ange didn’t want to tell me, but when she said Chinese I guessed it must be here – I thought if we could just meet face to face we’d be able to work things out properly.’ She motioned to the waiter, beckoning him over. ‘A bottle of rosé, my good sir, for me and the bride-to-be!’

I’ll be honest, I was struggling. The waiter came back with the wine and two glasses and began to pour. ‘You see, darling,’ Mum continued, ‘when you get to my age you realise life’s too short to hold grudges. The thing is to forgive and forget, move on.’

She lifted her glass and I, robotically, lifted mine to chink against hers. ‘Your dad’s not bitter, about Nigel and me, you know,’ she said, looking me in the eye now. I gawped at her in disbelief. ‘He told me that on the phone. It’s all just water under the bridge,’ she gave a gentle shrug.

‘You and I were always very close,’ Mum continued, her confidence slipping to let in a shaft of something that surprised me: neediness. I’d taken a sip of the sweet wine but when I heard what she said I nearly choked on it.

‘That was over
twenty years
ago, Mum,’ I said. ‘And we may have had a bond then, but I’m a different person now.’ My mind was awash. ‘And anyway, what about Chris, or have you forgotten
all about him?’

‘Oh, darling,’ she said, pulling at the ruffles on her blouse to straighten out the front. ‘You know it’s not the same, with boys. Girls and their mums have a special relationship, no matter what. It’s what makes having a daughter special.’

‘Oh really? Dad seems to think we’re both pretty special. And he’d know, of course – given that he brought us both up.’ Gathering confidence now, I kept my eyes on hers, even though I could see she was longing to look away.

‘Do we really have to dredge up the past, Jennifer?’ she said, shifting in her seat.

‘Chris is here in the present, not the past, Mum. And the two of us are a package. You leaving made that happen, brought us together more than anything else. If you want to be a mum again, or whatever it is you really want, then you have to deal with both of us. Or neither.’

‘But love, I was thinking we could look to the future, like you are doing with – David, is it?’

‘Dan,’ I corrected her.

‘Yes, look to the future and all that you have ahead of you. I told Nige, I said, “It’s now or never, Nige – my little girl is becoming a woman.”’

I got to my feet. ‘You know what, you’re right, Mum. I don’t want to dredge up the past – not at all. Which is why I didn’t reply to your messages. And
it’s why I definitely don’t want you at my wedding.’

I stood there, looking down at the woman whose absence had coloured so much of my life.

‘Maybe I should also have said that I didn’t want you ruining my hen night, but I thought you might just work that one out for yourself.’

The woman I knew as my mum but who felt like a stranger to me was finally lost for words. I picked up my coat and bag and walked out.

I’d called Dan from the cab – it was only a ten-minute walk home but it was raining hard, plus my feet hurt. Friday night Dan had been out for his stag so he was at home recovering. As I got out of the taxi he was standing by our open front door with a concerned expression on his face.

‘Jen, are you OK?’

God, sometimes I hate it when people say that. As he took me into his arms I began to sob – in a blubbery, spluttering way, not a gentle, sweet way. He led me upstairs and sat me down on our sofa, bringing over one of his zip-up hoodies to warm me up. He held me for a minute while I cried and then tipped my chin up to look at me. He saw right away that cocoa wasn’t going to cut it.

‘She didn’t ask a thing about me, or Chris,’ I said, when the sobs finally slowed. ‘She just spoke as if we should be carrying on where we left
off. But that was two decades ago, Dan. Twenty years. What was she thinking?’

Dan stroked my hair and held me close. ‘God,’ he said. ‘I really can’t believe she came to your hen night.’

‘I know,’ I said, starting to find a smile. ‘I was having a really bloody nice time too. The girls from school had come all the way from London and Bournemouth, and best of all there wasn’t a willy-shaped straw in sight. We were going to go to karaoke … but then she turns up and ruins everything. I don’t think I even like her, Dan. She’s just a stranger. I had nothing to say to her at all.’

‘Why tonight?’ Dan said, shaking his head. ‘I mean, sorry babe, I don’t want to make it worse, but I feel annoyed with her even though I don’t know her. I hate seeing you so upset.’ He wiped away a tear from my cheek. ‘How could she think it was a good idea to just turn up?’

‘That’s just her way, Dan,’ I said. ‘Dad has given the odd hint that back when she was still living with us, life was a bit unpredictable. He said she tended to do things when it suited her, rather than when they needed doing. I know he tries not to say anything negative about her, but I’m pretty sure it was a bit of a whirlwind at the time. Maybe back then, when Mum’s ex got back in touch she got swept up in the drama of that romance. I don’t know … and perhaps she came to the hen night because she liked the idea of a big reunion with me, in front
of an audience.’

‘She doesn’t sound anything like you or Chris,’ Dan said. ‘Or your Dad for that matter. It’s difficult to imagine.’

‘Yes, thankfully. Although I do think she and Dad loved each other. He says she used to bring him out of his shell, that they were chalk and cheese but he wouldn’t have wanted a wife just like him.’

‘I can see his point. I can’t think of anything worse than being married to a woman like me,’ Dan said, pausing to picture it. ‘No, I’m definitely happier with the wife I’m going to have.’

Dan kissed me, then led me by the hand to our bedroom and got out my favourite Gruffalo pyjamas. He talked to me about his evening, the DVD he’d been watching, while I changed into them. He climbed under the duvet, lifted it for me to get in and held me while I fell asleep. I knew Mum must still be in Charlesworth
somewhere, but here in Dan’s arms I was out of her reach.

‘Pastry delivery,’ Alison said, popping her head around Jenny’s doorway brandishing a white paper bag.

Jenny was sitting up in bed in her pyjamas, bundled in the duvet with a magazine propped up on her knees. The blinds were down, letting only a chink of natural light into the room, and a low murmur was coming from the radio. Jenny’s eyes were panda-like with smudged mascara and her blonde hair was tied back in a tufty ponytail.

‘Ali, hi,’ she said, looking a bit startled. ‘Come in, sit down.’ She flattened out a bit of duvet. ‘Sorry it’s such a mess in here.’

Alison sat down on the bed, tucking her legs up under her. ‘I hope you don’t mind me popping in. Dan let me in on his way out to the
shops.’

‘No, no, it’s good to see you, let me get a plate …’ Jenny said, looking at the paper bag and starting to get up.

‘Stop right there,’ Alison said, holding her hand up playfully. ‘You stay put, I’ll grab one.’

Alison returned a moment later with a plate and put the pastries on it. She passed Jenny an almond croissant and took a plain one for herself.

‘It felt wrong leaving you last night,’ Alison said. ‘But it seemed like you needed some time alone with your mum.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. You were right.’ Jenny took the tiniest of nibbles from her pastry. ‘We do have a lot to talk about.’ Jenny’s voice caught and Alison could see she was on the brink of tears. ‘But we didn’t, talk I mean. I don’t want to until I know that she’s sorry for what she did. She doesn’t seem to regret a thing, Ali – she just went on about looking forward not back. And I don’t think Chris is part of this vision she has for her new life at all.’

‘Really?’ said Alison. ‘It’s hard to fathom, isn’t it?’ Alison gently shook her head. ‘He’s the kind of son any mother should be proud to have.’

‘You’re preaching to the converted here, Ali,’ Jenny said, with just a hint of her usual smile. ‘Chris is all that and more. While from the outside it
may look like Dad and I are supporting him, it’s almost always been the other way round.’

‘So what did you say to her?’ Alison asked.

‘What I just said to you, about not being ready to talk, and that I don’t want her there at our wedding. I was pretty clear. After that I just walked out,’ Jenny said.

‘Fair enough,’ Alison said. ‘If I’d left the girls, walked out when they were so young … It’s pretty surprising that she expects to be welcomed back into your life, no questions asked. The love, or like even, is something she forfeited, isn’t it? Doesn’t she realise it needs to be earned back?’