The Stepmother(58)

 

 

 

 

 

Thirty-Seven

 

 

 

 

 

Jeanie

 

 

 

 

 

30 March 2015

 

 

 

 

 

Matthew is in a foul mood when he arrives home after a late meeting in the City.

 

‘I missed the bloody parents’ evening.’ He throws his Financial Times down on the counter. For someone who doesn’t like swearing, he’s been doing a lot of it recently. ‘Kaye says the school rang to remind me a few weeks ago. Why didn’t you tell me?’

 

‘I’m sure I did.’ I feel a stab of guilt. ‘I wrote it on the pad by the phone.’

 

But the work surface is immaculate – and empty. No pad at all. I can’t blame Agata; she’s long gone. And actually I don’t remember telling Matthew. But usually he checks his messages on the pad. All the phone calls in the house are for him generally, and I’ve never forgotten anything before.

 

But I haven’t told him Kaye rang either – and that is through choice. I feel really awkward about that conversation; I don’t want him to think we were in cahoots or something like that. I do think I need to mention the cutting thing to Matthew – but I have no proof, only a suspicion. I’ve looked at Scarlett’s arms every time she’s been here, but they are usually covered up.

 

‘What pad?’ Matthew looks at me like I’m mad. ‘We finished it didn’t we, doing shopping lists for New Year’s Eve? I keep meaning to remind you to get a new one.’

 

I remember that awful evening a fortnight ago, the way Luke got sauce all over everything, screaming and screaming, and I wonder – did I chuck it in the bin amidst all the drama?

 

‘Kaye’s having a f*cking field day,’ he says before I can answer. ‘I can’t afford to give her ammunition. Not whilst we’re still waiting for custody and alimony meetings. I’m going upstairs.’

 

‘Sorry,’ I call after him, but he’s already on the phone to his accountant. I was going to tell him about the job, but it’s not the right time.

 

I seem to be digging myself in deeper without even meaning to. What a mess. My skin flames.

 

 

 

 

 

Thirty-Eight

 

 

 

 

 

Jeanie

 

 

 

 

 

31 March 2015

 

 

 

 

 

4.30 p.m.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Frankie’s out when Scarlett arrives; I’m upstairs, cleaning the bathroom. We’re not expecting her, as far as I know, and I wonder with trepidation if she’s looking for Frankie again.

 

‘Hi! Finish school early?’ I say as she sticks her head round the door. ‘Good day?’

 

She doesn’t speak but stamps down the landing, calling for her dad like a much younger child. ‘Dad, where are you? Dad-dy?’

 

Oh God, I think. Now what?

 

Matthew is in his study, working from home, as is becoming more usual.

 

The door clicks shut; they’re ensconced in there for a while. I finish the bath and go downstairs to surf the web, looking for new jobs. There’s something at the local adult institute I might apply for…

 

About half an hour later I’m just debating making them some tea when they clatter down the stairs – and leave. I assume Matthew’s taking her back to her mother’s.

 

When Matthew returns, twenty minutes later, he’s monosyllabic as he looks for something in the drawer.

 

‘Are you ready to go?’ I try for jolly. I don’t ask what might have been up with Scarlett. I kind of can’t bear to know.

 

‘Where?’ He stares at me like I’ve got two heads.

 

‘I booked tickets for the new Judi Dench film, remember?’ I try to smile at him, but I sense something is really wrong. ‘The one about living in India? I thought we could grab some noodles at—’

 

‘Cancel it.’ He bangs out of the room. Then he comes back. ‘Or take someone else, if you want.’

 

But who would I take, my dear Matthew? I’ve made no friends here yet.

 

I follow him out into the hall. ‘Sorry – what’s wrong?’

 

‘Oh come on!’ He stares at me like he doesn’t know me. Well he doesn’t really. We don’t really know each other at all. It’s becoming more obvious by the minute.