Wildest of All Page 18

  ‘This has gone cold. Is there more?’

  Jude immediately lifted the teapot and poured, a small river trickled down from the spout. Anne spooned a sugar in and stirred for what felt like a maddeningly long time. When she could bear it no longer, Jude asked, ‘And how was the cellar?’

  Tears rimmed Anne’s eyes for a moment, then broke loose, rivulets running down her gnarled face as she leaned forward and hissed, ‘It was disgusting.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Breach

  Anne’s secret was a ball of electricity that glowed and pulsed between the two women, connecting and repelling them at the same time. Having laid bare what she considered to be the ugly truth of her existence, Anne could hardly speak a word to Jude, though she found her presence to be a comfort, a knowledgeable shadow, accepting, unquestioning.

  The revelation of Patrick’s sexuality was profoundly moving for Jude, who viewed the situation from a perspective Anne could not. Jude wondered, but dared not ask, if he’d always had lovers, or if the incident in the shop cellar was an isolated one. She thought of her gentle, unassuming father-in-law, and realised what she’d interpreted as reserve was actually deep sadness. Despite her sympathy for Anne, she secretly hoped he’d found happiness of a sort somewhere. The alternative was too tragic to contemplate.

  ‘He should never have married me,’ Anne had said, humiliated by the certainty that if he’d been born fifty years later, he never would have.

  Jude found Anne’s lingering disgust difficult, but saw no merit in tackling the homophobia that poured from the old lady’s lips now. Instead she assured her that of course Patrick had loved her; hadn’t he been a good father, hadn’t he provided well for the family? And if he hadn’t loved her, why did he stay with her once homosexuality became decriminalised? It was a weak argument, but the only one Jude could find.

  ‘You make it sound like I should be grateful,’ Anne sneered.

  Everything about her was a sneer now. Honesty had removed the need for further pretence, and years’ worth of poison spilled out in vast torrents that Jude sometimes struggled to keep up with.

  ‘And all this nonsense in the papers about sex offences and la la la. Ridiculous.’

  Putting aside the possibility of Alzheimer’s, a spectre which frequently arose as an explanation for Anne’s disjointed conversation, Jude gradually began to piece together an idea of Anne and Patrick’s life together.

  ‘What I went through to get those children. He should be so lucky.’

  The emerging picture was a harrowing one, and there was no possibility of lightening the load by telling Susan and Danny the truth. Their relationship with the church was not as steadfast as their mother’s, but they were too far steeped in Catholic teachings for Jude to contemplate opening the conversation. Thankfully, Susan’s distance and Danny’s fleeting visits made keeping the secret an easier task than it otherwise might have been, though that too became a bone of contention, as Anne had no inclination to reign herself in around Jude any longer, letting loose her darkest thoughts regarding her children. Susan was a bore, a born martyr, subjugating herself at every turn, no self-respect. Danny was a gumption-less sap whose every breath apologised for his existence. When all was said and done, Peter was the only one of her children she could be proud of.

  Jude clamped a hand over her mouth when she heard this because, despite his bravado, Peter had never lost the guilt of disappointing his mother when he dropped out of law to pursue happiness in music. Her rage sparked unexpectedly to life, and then smouldered until it became a blaze that threatened to consume her. She wanted to scream at Anne, hurl abuses at her for all the years she’d watched Peter prostrate himself at his mother’s feet in an effort to win her approval, only to be rebuffed with talk of Danny, who, according to Anne, was always doing so well, even when his marriage was falling to pieces. Back then it had been poor Danny, such a kind soul, a diligent worker, far too easily taken advantage of. There was nothing for Peter to do but agree, painfully aware that Anne played them off against each other, but loving her no less for it. After a while, Jude learned not to pass comment.

  ‘Jude, she’s my mother,’ he’d sigh, words that not only ended the conversation, but alerted her to the fact she’d crossed the line by questioning the sanctity of the mother-child relationship. After all, it was a relationship she had limited experience of, despite having a daughter of her own.

  The sanctity of the mother-child relationship did not appear to be of concern to Anne, who took every opportunity to remind her of Sissy’s failings.

  ‘She deserted you just like Susan did with me. We’re the same, you and I,’ Anne said. ‘Sacrificed everything for our families and now look at us. Left alone. Abandoned. Do they ever give us a thought?’

  Jude, whose capacity for confrontation had always been weak, accepted what Anne said, even began to believe it. She resolved herself to honour Peter by being as patient and sympathetic to his mother as possible, no matter how unpleasant she became. As for rescuing her relationship with Sissy, it wasn’t difficult to imagine she was better off without them.

  It was only when driving to work that Jude found space to think. Without understanding how, her life had become a series of carrying out services for other people. Whether at home with Anne, or at work with Aleks, she drifted from task to task, each job a welcome distraction from the growing realisation that her life’s purpose had eluded her, that every day was just another blip on the way to oblivion. Sometimes she felt she was doing okay. Her drinking was back within sensible parameters. She took her antidepressants like a good patient. They allowed her to function, though sometimes she felt a glass wall stood between her and reality. She could look through it and see how bad everything was, but it didn’t cripple her. No one would know from looking at her that she was an empty shell, a husk of a human being.

  Even Aleks had taken a step back, at first out of respect for her loss, but in time she sensed his impatience and accepted his retreat as inevitable. She wondered if his withdrawal was a calculated move on his part, designed to worry her back into his arms, but she experienced all of this from a distance, as though it were occurring in someone else’s life. She couldn’t bring herself to react.

  They’d gone several months working in the same office, operating with a heightened veneer of professionalism, when at last one afternoon Aleks snapped.

  ‘I cannot do this any longer,’ he said.

  Jude looked up from the spreadsheet she was working on, eyebrows slightly raised, giving the impression she was surprised to discover she wasn’t alone.

  ‘Is everything alright?’ she asked, assuming his problem was a work-based one she could help with.

  ‘No! Everything is not alright!’

  He pushed himself back from his desk and swung his chair round to face her. It was only then she realised he’d lost weight. His face was gaunt, and dark circles ringed his eyes. Despite this, she still felt a soft calm wash over her as she looked at him. He cared for her. He was a safe place in the world. She wanted to go to him but old habits kept her seated. His eyes beseeched her to understand, she knew what was required, but she couldn’t breach that glass wall that went everywhere before her these days.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ he said, rubbing his face in frustration. ‘You’re going to make me say it.’

  She had the sensation of being in a car without any brakes, hurtling to the top of a hill with no idea what lay on the other side. She wanted to stop everything but had no means of doing so.

  ‘I need to know where we are, Jude. I’ve been patient, haven’t I? You know how I feel about you. I want to give us a try. But you – I’ve no idea where you are. One minute you’re going to leave him, then all of a sudden he’s dead – I’m sorry to be blunt – I know it’s complicated for you and you’ve been through so much, but I think I’ve been as understanding as anyone could hope to be. I’ve been straightforward, and tried to give you all the space you need. But it’s time now, Jud
e. If there’s no future here, I need to know.’

  She didn’t know what was holding her back. The door was open. All she had to do was walk through. It was the easiest thing in the world. But hadn’t she always taken the easiest route? Done what she could to avoid conflict, allowed herself to be swept along with Peter, going so far as to have a baby she wasn’t sure she wanted? And look where that road had taken her. She loved her daughter, but couldn’t parent her, and now there was another lost soul in the world trying to make it on her own. She struggled to find the words, hoped he’d know by looking how grateful she was to him for everything – and how sorry she was that it had to be this way.

  Finally, she could only shake her head. His eyes, so dark and full of concern, pinned her to a different future, a future she knew wasn’t hers.

  He came round to her side of the desk. Stretched his arm out, gently touched her shoulder, at all times implicit in his gaze was the question: Is this all right? Am I allowed?

  For a moment, she teetered between two worlds.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  Her body was rigid with the effort of not crying. He came closer to her, bent his head to hers. She closed her eyes and felt his warmth radiate towards her. His hand slipped behind her neck. Her skin jumped beneath his fingers. It was so long since she’d been touched. She tilted her head back and he found her lips. Wrapping their arms around each other, they kissed as though they’d waited their entire lives for this moment. Hope and relief and gratitude flowed between them until Jude realised she was being pulled into something that had the power to obliterate everything else, or more specifically, something which she could use to obliterate everything else. With a cry, she pulled herself away and moved swiftly behind her desk.

  ‘I can’t do it,’ she whispered, unable to meet his eye. ‘I can’t. There’s always just this guilt. Betrayal. He’s gone. I know, it doesn’t make it sense. But I can’t get past it. I’m sorry.’

  It wasn’t the whole story but it was one she knew he would understand.

  Aleks’ lips tightened as he absorbed the information. Hadn’t he known it would go this way? But still, he was furious. Such an unfair fight. Who could compete with a dead man?

  Fury quickly gave way to nausea, or at least something he attributed to nausea. The sinking, dragging sensation he felt in his core was unfamiliar. He had no words for that.

  ‘I understand,’ he told her. ‘Don’t worry about it. Everything is fine here.’

  ‘Maybe we could have a drink some time? Just as friends?’ She hated herself for saying it, and cowered when she saw the anger in his eyes.

  ‘You can’t have everything, Jude. Let’s just leave things now. Okay?’

  And then he was gone. It was the right thing to do. He’d get over it. They both would. Already she felt inexplicably lighter.

  For a long time now, she’d been waiting for the phone to ring, to hear Sissy’s voice. Anne had told her she’d come running once the money was cut off, but instead there was only a silence that grew longer and darker with every passing day. She’d wrestled with it, until out of the silence emerged one indisputable fact: more than love, more than grief, there was a yearning.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ma Cherie

  Sissy thought she had never been so happy. She had taken Hazel’s advice and it had worked. She now found that adulthood suited her exceptionally well, especially now she’d moved on from all the losers in her life. She was flying. She’d earned a promotion to floor supervisor at work, and on top of that, she was desirable. Pascal was proof of that. At weekends, she accompanied him to whichever club he was attached to, and because he was working, it made sense for her to work too.

  ‘It’s easy, low-risk work,’ he told her. ‘It would be supremely helpful to me.’

  ‘But I’m here anyway,’ she said, embarrassed to take wages from her new boyfriend. ‘I don’t mind doing it for free.’

  Pascal cupped her face and looked at her tenderly. ‘Don’t give yourself away for free, ma cherie. Learn to value yourself. I insist on paying you.’

  And so she became his drop-off girl, delivering little bags of pills or wraps of powder around the club, or sometimes in taxis to clubs elsewhere. When taxis proved unreliable, Pascal paid for driving lessons and said he would hire her a car when she passed her test. She felt like his queen. Security got to know her and ushered her past the queues. She was important. Wherever she went, people fell over themselves to greet her. Her arrival heralded good times. She was glad to be of assistance, knowing the produce she delivered would ensure its consumers hours of ecstatic enlightenment. She was making the world a better place, and to think it was all thanks to Hazel.

  ‘Nothing to do with me, darling,’ Hazel said, through a typically extravagant cloud of smoke.

  ‘Really,’ Sissy insisted. ‘You were so right. A pair of heels and a skirt and look at me now. Floor supervisor before all those people who were here before me.’

  ‘I think shagging the boss may have helped, don’t you?’

  Hazel stubbed her cigarette out against the wall.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Sissy. ‘What’s the point in offering advice to someone if you’re just gonna be sniffy with them when it works?’

  Hazel dropped the fag end in the bin and turned to give Sissy the benefit of her middle finger.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ muttered Sissy, stamping hers out underfoot. She’d been careful not to gloat about her success on the call floor, but she’d considered Hazel mature enough to handle an honest conversation, and frankly, there was no one else she could confide in.

  ‘Shagging the boss’. It sounded so seedy and made her feel cheap. She’d love to tell Hazel that shagging was the smallest part of it. In fact, shagging was barely in it at all. Their relationship was deeper than that. It was based on mutual respect and caring. Pascal had opened up a whole new way of being for her and she would support him however she could. She’d learned he was prone to low moods and needed space to process his feelings. She worried he relied on too many stimulants to get through the day but he laughed at her.

  ‘Stimulant? What is that? Coffee is a stimulant!’ and then he’d wrap his arm around her waist and pull her to him and kiss the top of her head. ‘I am much, much older than you are, therefore far wiser. Do not question me, grasshopper.’ He’d tickle her until she begged him to stop and afterwards she’d forget to worry for a little while.

  As she climbed the stairs back to the office, she wondered how to make it up with Hazel. Apart from Pascal, she was the only person in the entire workplace who had ever shown any interest in Sissy’s life. It felt important to have her on side.

  ‘Were you looking for extra shifts?’ she asked, just as Hazel was taking her seat.

  ‘Always.’

  Sissy nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do for you. Shouldn’t be a problem.’

  She lingered, but Hazel’s gratitude was barely worth the wait. A muttered ‘thanks’ and she was back on the phone, dialling the next number.

  Sissy wasn’t on the phones this morning. She was tasked with drawing up rotas, assigning employees to various projects, monitoring calls and employee check-in times. Apart from a few extra pounds, promotion only meant a different type of mind-numbing work and the opportunity to make enemies.

  ‘Hey,’ she called across the room to a spotty guy in a grey sweatshirt. ‘Yeah, you,’ she said, when he turned round. ‘You were five minutes late back from break. I’m taking it off your lunch, okay?’

  The guy barely acknowledged her, just turned back round to his monitor. She felt eyes on her.

  ‘They will not like you,’ Pascal had said. ‘You must not care. Don’t be a child about it, Sissy. It’s an adult’s job.’

  So she swallowed her discomfort and stalked the floor searching for slackers. It’s what she was paid to do, after all. She was privileged to have this status cast upon her, she reminded herself, thinking of how far she’d come in a relatively short spac
e of time. Sometimes she wondered about Cam and whether he was all right. She assumed he’d made it back to Glasgow. She pictured him hanging out at all their old haunts: the benches by the garage, Rory’s boathouse, the cafes. She couldn’t imagine him in any other setting. When her fondness became difficult, it morphed into anger and reduced him to a pitiful character from her past. He’d probably even put Bolt into a shelter by now, having discovered how much attention a dog requires. That was Cam all over. Some people just don’t grow up, she thought. Thank God she was moving in the right direction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A Stranger on the Other Side of the Glass

  It was years since Jude’s last trip to London – a midweek jaunt for her birthday. Peter had organised tickets for Phantom of the Opera, having sent a young Sissy to stay with his mother. Sissy must have been seven or eight. It was the only time they’d gone anywhere without her. How giddy they’d been to have a taste of freedom again.

  She’d never travelled down on her own though, and she was nervous about navigating her way around. She remembered how intense she’d found the crowds, how much she’d relied on Peter to steer her through. As the train pulled into King’s Cross, she steeled herself for the experience.

  She was right to. The instant she set foot off the train, she felt she could be swallowed up and lost forever on that platform alone. She didn’t expect to be staying long so she’d packed lightly. All she had was a single rucksack and a small satchel draped across her body, into which she’d had the foresight to pack a couple of family photographs. Even if Sissy didn’t want to see her, she’d definitely want something of Peter.

  She allowed herself to be carried by the crowd through the ticket barrier to the main concourse. She was looking for the Victoria Line, but when she saw a sign for taxis, she immediately changed her mind.

  The journey passed in silence, for which she was grateful. However, with nothing to occupy her except her own thoughts, she grew increasingly anxious. What if Sissy turned her away? How would she cope with that? She began to regret her decision to come. Perhaps it was better to live on in ignorance after all.