Revenge of the Middle-Aged Woman

She looked down at her folded hands. ‘I’ve been meaning to have a word.’

I extracted her sponge-bag from the suitcase. ‘Go on.’

‘The doctors are very good,’ she said, and raised her eyes, ‘and I have every faith. But I’m old, Rose. You know that.’ She picked up her hairbrush and swiped impatiently at an escapee wisp then reapplied the pink-orange lipstick – of which I had never imagined I would grow so fond. ‘I’m only telling you, Rose, because I’m going back into hospital for an operation. They did some follow-up tests. But don’t tell the others.’

I sank down on the bed. ‘Oh, Mum.’

‘It’s all been arranged. The doctor has pushed it through. There’s no need to bother Nathan again. I wouldn’t like that.’

‘No.’

She gave herself a little shake. ‘How nice to celebrate Easter.’ Our eyes met in the mirror. ‘Coming and going,’ she said simply. ‘That’s life.’

I was back in Medlars Cottage, watching my father tamping his pipe on the stove. Ianthe moved across the room bearing buttered scones on a blue and white plate, her apron tied in a bow at the back. Little sausage curls bounced on her forehead, which was flushed from the heat of baking. In the background, a radio played dance music.

Ianthe might have had reservations about seeing Nathan, but she greeted him politely enough and kissed Poppy and Richard. I had filled the room with flowers and lit a fire, and the room was warm, fragrant and – I considered – beautiful. The atmosphere was not easy, but it was not ominous either. Given that the family had been shaken hard and unexpectedly into a new shape, it was the best we could do.

Nathan occupied himself with the drinks. Richard, it transpired, was well trained in handling elderly ladies and he chatted away to Ianthe. Nathan edged over to me. ‘I meant to tell you last time I saw you, Rose, that I like the hair. You’re thinner too.’

‘Thank you. You’re looking… fine.’

He grimaced. ‘You mean older and tired.’ I made no comment. Nathan held out his hand, on which bloomed a patch of eczema. I knew it well. Do something Rose. Can’t let this spread. And I would pat on the cream that I kept specially. You must relax.

‘There’s a tube still in the medicine cabinet if you want to take it,’ I said, and I knew that Minty must have made a scene about him coming.

He shoved his hand into his pocket. ‘Thanks.’

It unsettled me to be so near to Nathan and I snatched up a dish of nuts, thrust them at Ianthe and hightailed into the kitchen. There were sounds signifying that Sam and – I presumed – Alice had arrived and I went into the little-used terracotta-painted dining room to put the finishing touches to the table, which I had laid with translucent white candles, shimmery ribbon, plates of raisins and pink and white sugared almonds, white lilies and white linen.

It was all rather sentimental, and crying into the wind. But I had wanted to put down a marker, a declaration of faith that we would survive, a message, stubborn and optimistic, that we had not been beaten. Anyway, the table looked lovely.

‘Mum.’ A flushed, exciting-looking Sam appeared. ‘I have something to tell you.’ I swung round, thinking, He is going to marry Alice. But behind Sam lurked a figure in a short red skirt and jacket and it was not Alice. It was Jilly.

‘Jilly,’ shrieked Poppy in the background, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Mum…’ Sam took Jilly’s hand and pulled her forward. From being quite pale, Jilly turned pink.

I pulled myself together and kissed her. ‘How lovely’

Poppy kidnapped Jilly. ‘What is this? I didn’t know you’d be here.’

‘No, you wouldn’t know, because I didn’t tell you.’

Ianthe shook out her best cliches, which she kept for eventualities such as this, where no one had any idea of what exactly was going on. ‘The more the merrier. Jilly, come and sit next to me.’

Rather obviously avoiding Poppy’s eye, Jilly took her seat – or, rather, Alice’s. Sam unfolded his napkin and cleared his throat. ‘Happy Easter, everyone.’

With a lightening of my heart, I knew that something had happened to Sam, which would be for the better.

Jilly asked for water and took a sip. ‘You will be wondering…’

‘Yes, you will.’ Sam placed a hand on Jilly’s arm. Poppy rubbed an eye, which made it water. ‘You’ll be wondering why Alice isn’t here.’

‘Don’t mind us,’ said his sister. ‘Take all night, please.’

Sam looked at Jilly, and Jilly looked right back at Sam, a tender and excited look. Sam cleared his throat. ‘Jilly and I are going to get married.’

‘Good God.’ Nathan put down his glass.

‘How lovely,’ Ianthe echoed.

‘Jilly and I have been seeing each other since the party. It sort of progressed from there.’

A no-doubt foolish but happy smile seeped across my face. I could not help it. Not so Poppy, who was incensed. ‘I thought we shared everything, Jilly. You never said a word.’

‘I couldn’t. It was… private.’ A shade that might possibly have been guilt crossed Jilly’s radiant face, but only a shade. She helped herself to smoked salmon. ‘I didn’t know what was going to happen, and when…’

It was Richard, scenting the coup de grace, who leant forward and urged softly, And when?’

‘… we discovered,’ Jilly cut a huge piece of salmon and speared it on her fork, ‘I was pregnant.’

Sam looked ridiculously complacent and Poppy gasped.

A candle guttered in its confection of ribbon. Cool and collected, Richard nipped the wick between his finger and thumb. ‘Well done, Jilly. Smart work.’

Nathan shot to his feet. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and left the room.

The napkin bunched on my knee. What would happen to the beautiful, implacable, terrible Alice talking away into her mobile phone?

‘There’s a thing,’ said Ianthe, with a little smile. She caught my eye. Coming and going

Nathan reappeared and sat down quietly in his chair. ‘Sorry,’ he said, avoiding anyone’s eye. For a second or two, movement and sound were suspended around my gaudy table. Then it exploded into life. The words ‘wedding’, ‘baby’, ‘dates’ clicked to and fro across the decorations and the wineglasses glittered as we drank to the future.

We ate, we talked, we planned. We conjured up new illusions to take the place of the old ones, which, I realized with a sense of huge gratitude, would do us very well.

I collared Sam in the kitchen over the coffee tray. ‘What about Alice?’

The wooden look that I had grown to dread snapped back into place. ‘I wanted to talk to you, Mum. She’s taken it badly, and I don’t understand. I thought the whole point was that Alice didn’t want me. So I found Jilly. Now Alice says she’ll marry me, so I had to tell her about the baby’

Having assumed that two and two would add up to four, and Alice would dematerialize like a conscience when its owner receives something they really want, my innocent son was troubled.

‘Oh, Sam…’

Poppy had also collared Jilly. ‘I’ll phone you first thing in the morning.’

‘I might be being sick,’ said Jilly happily, and slipped her arm through Sam’s, ‘but have a go.’

When everyone had gone, I moved through the house, tidying and straightening out the mess. Ianthe was upstairs in bed, and I arranged the remains of the supper on a plate to take to Mr Sears the next morning.

There was a tap on the kitchen door. I opened it. ‘Can I come in? I waited in the car until the coast was clear.’ Nathan was hunched inside his coat and looked exhausted.

‘It’s very late.’

‘I thought you might say that. At least give me five minutes to discuss our son.’

I stood aside and Nathan entered the kitchen with the polite step of a stranger.

He looked round. A couple of rubbish bags were propped against the sink and he picked up one in either hand.