Revenge of the Middle-Aged Woman

The doorbell rang and Richard went to answer it. ‘Nathan,’ we heard him say. ‘Were we expecting you?’

‘I thought I’d just drop this in…’ In his office suit, Nathan appeared in the doorway carrying a large, beribboned parcel. He stopped. ‘I didn’t realize you were having a family party,’ he said, in a cold, hurt way.

I got up and kissed him, for I, of all people, knew how often Nathan had planned surprises for Sam and Poppy, and how much he would mind being sidelined.

‘Dad.’ Sam hugged him.

In a man-to-man gesture that showed a great deal of pride in his son, Nathan rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder and ran a fatherly eye over him. ‘Why are you in town?’

Sam explained that he had come up to help me look for flats and Nathan’s smile switched off. ‘Nice of you, Sam,’ he said woodenly

Without warning, the old pain nagged away, and I felt unutterably weary with the process of disconnection from Nathan which, however we handled it, would be prolonged and pitted with obstacles.

Poppy materialized, wild-haired and frantic. She started visibly when she saw her father. ‘Bit of a crisis in the kitchen. Hallo, Dad. How nice. Ooh, a present. Can you stay for supper? I need two pairs of strong hands.’

Sam and Richard obliged, leaving me with Alice and Nathan. Alice hauled out her mobile phone. ‘Do you mind? I’ve forgotten something urgent.’ She proceeded to conduct a conversation to do with deal-tunnels, brokerage, leverage and breakfast.

‘I didn’t know you’d be here,’ said Nathan.

‘Everything all right at work?’ I asked.

‘Sure, sure,’ he said, too heartily ‘Figures are up. Everyone’s behaving. Couldn’t be better.’ He dug his hands into his pockets. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

‘I’m doing some work for Kim at the Daily Dispatch.’

‘Oh.’ He looked startled. ‘Well, that’s good.’

We lapsed into silence.

‘Yes,’ he repeated. ‘Everything’s absolutely fine.’

Poppy did her best to make him stay but Minty was waiting at home and Nathan would not be persuaded. I turned to Alice, who had finished her conversation. ‘It was nice of you to make the effort for Poppy.’

She slid her phone into her bag. ‘No trouble. I had a meeting and I crave London from time to time.’ She looked straight past me to Richard. ‘How’s the new job?’

He looked smug. ‘Not all number-crunching, I’m happy to say. Strategy, no mercy and lots of money’

I found myself staring at Richard, wondering if his cynicism was real or feigned and, if the former, could Poppy be inoculated against it. Or was he conducting a prolonged tease with his parents-in-law? ‘Tell me more,’ begged Alice, and I knew then that Bath was never going to be big enough to contain her. ‘Which are your sectors?’

Richard purred. ‘Manufacturing bases, specifically textile firms in the Midlands, small family enterprises that have lost crucial contracts. We advise them on cutting the workforce and contracting out East.’

‘I thought you didn’t approve of capitalism,’ I interjected.

Richard leant over towards me. ‘Rose,’ he said kindly, ‘these are the realities.’

At this point, I caught Nathan’s eye and we exchanged a tentative private smile.

He tossed down the last of his wine. ‘I must go.’ He kissed Poppy and Alice then, after a hesitation, kissed me too.

The front door closed behind him, and the assembled company relaxed.

‘Poor Dad.’ Poppy had drunk too much wine in the kitchen. She hustled me into a corner and hissed, ‘He’s having a terrible time with Minty’s fertility treatment. He’s told me all about it. Horrible.’

Various factors now fell into place. The medical insurance for one. ‘That’s Dad’s business. Not for discussion, Poppy.’

Poppy ignored me. ‘They’ve been at it for months. Dad hates what it involves – imagine, at his age – and Minty is pretty sour at the non-strike rate. Bet they’re sniggering at the paper.’

‘Shush,’ I said sharply, because I could not bear to hear any more. I raised my glass. ‘Happy birthday’

‘Thanks, Mum.’ She rubbed her hand over her face. ‘With one thing and another, I feel a hundred and ten.’

Later that night, I undressed in my solitary bedroom. No one else was running a bath or listening to the radio. There was no Parsley, of course, on the bed. Even the water pipes were silent.

Naked, I stood in front of the mirror. A woman’s reflection met me. But which woman? I pinched and patted a fold of flesh on my stomach and flexed my leg in the way Minty did.

Was it possible to find recompense, meaning, connection with others amidst the mess and muddle? I had tried to persuade Poppy that it was, but had I been truthful?

In the past, in a crisis, men and women bound up their feet in leather and linen, and set out on a pilgrimage to the tomb of a saint. There they prayed, for health, children or to grab their neighbour’s land. They observed the milk of the Virgin, a fragment of the True Cross shimmering with righteousness, a saint’s bones, and gave thanks for being vouchsafed such a miracle. Those who survived came home, immeasurably comforted and enriched.

At this point, I began to shiver with cold and felt more than a little ridiculous. I slipped on my nightdress and went to bed.

Before I fell asleep I told myself, Of course you understand who you are and where you are. Of course you do.

Hang on. There isn’t a mistake. You are the woman in the mirror, whose name is Rose, who looks fine. Just fine.

Chapter Twenty-five

Lakey Street had been valued, and I received a letter from the solicitor outlining the divorce details. ‘Mr Lloyd,’ the letter finished, ‘would like you to know that he has done the best for you that he possibly can.’

I studied those wretched details. It was true: Nathan had been more than generous. ‘Guilt,’ said Vee, ‘and value added’, but I could not bring myself to see it like that. I preferred to think that, contained in those careful provisions, was proof that a marriage had once thrived.

Yet again, Sam hightailed up to London and we tramped through the flat in Clapham for a second time. He urged me to put in an offer. ‘It’s got a garden,’ he said, as the clincher. ‘You can’t live without one.’

I put in an offer, which was accepted.

It was Sam who also pointed out that Easter was coming and, given that our family was not entirely shot to bits, should we have a gathering at Lakey Street?

‘That’s a tough call.’ I did not like the idea. ‘You realize what you’re asking?’

Sam was strangely insistent. He placed his hands on my shoulders and said, in his gentle, serious way, ‘A guaranteed place in heaven, Mum. No questions asked and no previous taken into account. You’ll go through without touching the sides.’

‘You’re in the wrong profession.’ I touched his cheek. ‘You should have been a diplomat cobbling together continents. If you think this is a good idea, OK, but the condition is, no Minty.’

Sam-the-diplomat set about the negotiations and it was settled that we would gather at Lakey Street for dinner on Maundy Thursday. He even arranged to collect Ianthe before whisking off on an errand that he would not specify. ‘I’ll explain later,’ he promised.

Ianthe had been in two minds as to whether to be present. ‘I find it hard to talk to Nathan,’ she confessed, grief etched on her face. I hated seeing it, and Nathan would have too.

Having been persuaded, and the spring weather being sharp and cold, she arrived in her tweed coat, smelling of mothballs, and bearing industrial quantities of chocolate and nuts.

I hung up the coat in the spare bedroom and unzipped her case. Ianthe sat down at the dressing-table. The pistachio-green frock had come out for the occasion and she had cast a bright blue and yellow scarf over her shoulders. The effect was of a crazed but delightful humming-bird. Busy with the unpacking, it was a minute or two before I registered that she had assumed her waiting pose. Instantly I was suspicious. ‘Is everything all right, Mum?’