Minty scuffed the carpet with her foot. ‘Sorry’
Nathan blew his nose. ‘I don’t even know Richard’s surname.’
‘You do. It’s Lockhead,’ I said.
Nathan stood up and went over to the ungenerous window that overlooked the terrace opposite, which had been built in depressing red brick. He seemed far too big for the room’s meagre proportions. ‘What do we do?’
Minty said impatiently, ‘For a start, I’ll finish dressing -and so should you, Nathan. Otherwise we’ll be late.’
The bedroom door banged and Nathan turned to me. ‘Don’t go quite yet.’
When Minty reappeared in a leather skirt and a stretch purple top, beneath which her nipples were outlined, we were still deep in discussion. Nathan was all for flying out to Thailand and dragging Poppy home. He had also been honest enough to say, ‘How could she have done this to us?’
Hand on hip, Minty listened. ‘I can’t believe I’m hearing this rubbish. Could I point out that Poppy is now a married woman? You’d make yourself look ridiculous by scurrying out there.’
I sneaked a look at Nathan. His reaction had been more subdued than I had envisaged, and that was worrying. He was hurt, bitterly so, at Poppy’s cruelty in leaving us out of such a momentous event.
Minty ploughed on. (She did not know of the filing cabinet in Nathan’s study that contained notional budgets for the wedding he had planned to give Poppy.) ‘Shouldn’t you be relieved that Poppy’s safe, well, happy? She hasn’t developed leprosy or anything.’ She pursed her lips. ‘After all, Nathan, you sprang your surprises, why shouldn’t Poppy? She probably felt she was paying you back.’
This angered Nathan sufficiently to snap him out of his distress. Icily cold, he said, ‘OK. You’ve made your point.’
I jumped up and grabbed my bag. ‘I’m going. If you want to discuss Poppy you know where to find me.’
‘Rose, let’s talk this over tomorrow when I’ll have thought it over.’ Nathan swung his attention back to me. Funnily enough, he was much more in control when he was angry than when he was sad, which, I think, was why he allowed himself to be angry over quite a few things, and, if you did not know him, subtracted from his sweetness at other times. It was a fascinating, wayward combination and I was used to it. Minty was not. She turned on her heel and left the room. The bathroom door banged.
I sat in the car for five or ten minutes, endeavouring to pull my thoughts together. How very like Poppy it would be to pay back Nathan and me in our own coin. Or had she been so shaken by our break-up that she had fled elsewhere for security? Oh, God, without realizing what she was doing.
I inserted the key in the ignition and the door to Minty’s flat opened. Nathan and Minty walked rapidly towards his car, talking hard. Minty was clutching a short magenta jacket over her leather skirt, and she was scowling. In a dark suit and blue silk tie, Nathan looked thunderous. He got into the driver’s seat, slammed the door and did not wait for Minty to get in before he started the engine.
Frantic e-mails went to and from Thailand. ‘Why the fuss?’ wrote Poppy. ‘Why aren’t you happy for me? What’s Dad playing at? We’re going to honeymoon up-country and plan to come back at the end of July. Out of touch till then.’
With that, we had to be content.
Ianthe’s stay in hospital had involved waiting in virtually every department but, as a grand mistress of the art, she coped with her usual grace. When I went to fetch her, she was ensconced in a sitting area at the end of the ward, watching the fish in the tank, which had been chosen for their ability to look dispirited. On the table were piled ancient, dismembered magazines. Nurses squeaked over the linoleum in rubber-soled shoes and a telephone rang incessantly in the background.
‘There you are, Rose.’
I sat down beside her and we discussed how she was feeling. Then I said, ‘Mum, I’d better tell you. We’ve heard from Poppy.’
‘Dear little thing. How is she?’
‘The dear little thing has gone and got married on a Thai beach. To Richard Lockhead.’
‘Oh.’ Ianthe fiddled with the pearl button on her cuff. ‘How disappointing. None of us was there.’ She fiddled some more. ‘Does this mean… she’s pregnant?’
‘Not as far as I know. Anyway, I don’t think Poppy’s generation get married because they’re pregnant.’ I picked up Ianthe’s suitcase. ‘It’s been a bit of a shock,’ I said fiercely, ‘but I’m determined to look on it as exciting. We’ll have to give a party for them when they come home. When has the doctor asked to see you again?’
‘In a couple of weeks when the final tests come through. Let’s not think about
She seemed so determined not to talk about it that I did not question her further. We drove back to Pankhurst Parade through a city that was emptying of traffic for the summer. From time to time, I glanced at her. Her colour seemed good and the lipstick was as bright as ever, and I felt nothing but pride for my brave mother who had taught herself to grapple with loneliness and little money.
Poppy’s news stirred up Ianthe’s memories. ‘When your father proposed he took me up the beck to the trout pool. The daffodils and catkins were out and it was so pretty and peaceful, but all I could think about was that my hair was frizzing in the damp. It was drizzling a bit. I hadn’t had time to change my blouse and I was worried that I smelt… well… sweaty because I’d had to run for the bus.’ She smiled. ‘He looked so sweet and earnest in his tweed jacket and there I was in a state because I didn’t think I looked my best, and I wanted the moment to be perfect.’
‘You were perfect at the wedding,’ I reminded her. ‘You looked lovely in the photograph.’
‘It rained then, too, would you believe?’
‘I wish he’d lived longer,’ I cried. ‘I wish you hadn’t had to suffer.’
‘There’s nothing special about suffering, Rose. It’s as common as hair growing. We just have to deal with it, and get on.’
Number fourteen was like a hothouse and I went round opening windows while Ianthe made tea. ‘One of the nurses would insist on calling it “Mr Comforter”. I ask you.’
Afterwards, I helped her to unpack. I had not been in Ianthe’s bedroom for a long time. A photograph of the three of us, taken outside Medlars Cottage when I was eight, was displayed prominently on the bedside table. A pot of Nivea face cream and a bottle of natural-coloured nail polish stood on the dressing-table beside her silver-backed brush, so old that many of the bristles were missing. The wardrobe contained six pairs of neatly stowed shoes, her herringbone winter coat, and dresses bagged up on hangers. Ianthe watched me inspecting them. ‘As you grow older, Rose, you need fewer clothes.’
‘How depressing.’
I opened a drawer to put away her clean nightdress and was choked by a familiar smell. ‘The lavender. It’s so strong.’
‘That reminds me…’ Ianthe searched on the shelf in the wardrobe. ‘I bought a couple of bags for you at the fete.’
Wordlessly, I held them in my hands, assaulted by the charged, never-to-be forgotten nostalgia of lavender.
Vee had not finished with me. The invitation to the summer gala dinner to celebrate the year’s best books arrived in the post. For years I had hosted a table – the guests and seating had occupied much time and debate. Scrawled on the back of Vee’s invitation was: ‘I have a table.
I propped it up on the desk in my study. This was a novel situation for me, and I felt an eddy of excitement and nerves in the pit of my stomach, even of curiosity to see what would happen and how I would react. Admittedly, during the past weeks, I had not thought much about my business world and it had grown distant. On cue, the phone rang.
‘No ifs and buts,’ said Vee. ‘I know it’s last-minute but you’re under orders to show up. And, Rose, treat yourself to the hairdresser.’
I was proud of myself as I got ready. Without a moment’s hesitation I pulled the black sleeveless dress out of the wardrobe and selected the outrageously stylish shoes I had bought in Paris. I applied foundation, brushed on grey eye shadow, drew a scarlet line around my lips and filled it in.
‘There,’ I addressed the resulting construct in the mirror, ‘not bad.’ I placed a hand on my stomach, which felt delightfully flat. My lips gleamed, my dress flowed over my hips and my feet arched in the high heels. To complete
