A Wild Affair (14 page)

“You've got post-cheating stress disorder,” Helen explained when I called her from my desk to give her an update and to finally fill her in on what had really happened on Friday night. “That's the first thing.”

“Post what?”

“The guilt,” she sighed. “The self-hate. You cheated on Max.
You hate yourself. You're taking it out on her because she's there. See?”

“I suppose,” I said uncomfortably. “So what are the other reasons?”

“Well, you've probably been a bit hungover. You looked pretty terrible on Saturday morning. And when you've got a hangover it feels like everyone's in your face. Right?”

“Riiiigght,” I said dubiously. “But I don't usually want to grab lipstick out of people's hands and throw it down the toilet.”

“Hmmm,” Helen said. “That's not good.”

I nodded in agreement. “Hel, she's my mother. I'm supposed to love her.”

And then Helen did something I wasn't expecting. She laughed. “Love her? Oh, Jess. God, I forget, you don't know anything about mothers, do you?”

“Of course I do,” I said hotly. “I know all about them. Just not, you know, personally …”

“Sweet Jess,” Helen said. “You don't love your mother. Well you do, but not like you love your mates or your boyfriend or someone like that. You love them like you love a really irritating brother. They piss you off nearly all the time, they interfere, they criticize, they do everything you wouldn't and think you should do the same. But if anyone else criticizes them, you want to smash their face into a brick wall. Okay?”

My face crumpled in confusion. “I never had a brother, either,” I said helplessly.

“Look, don't worry about it,” Helen soothed me. “You'll work it out. Just don't expect too much. And there's one other thing.”

“Yes?” I asked worriedly. I felt like I should be taking notes or something.

“Remember that eventually you're going to turn into her. So don't give her too much of a hard time. Okay?”

“What? Hel, I am never going to be anything like my mother,” I protested. “We're as different as two people could possibly be. We're nothing like each other, nothing at all …”

“Sure you're not,” Helen cut in. “Anyway, got to go. Call me later!”

I frowned and put the phone down. She was so wrong about me turning into my mother. But the rest of it made a bit of sense. I'd been hoping for too much too soon. We were new to each other, my mother and me. A bit of distance was all that was required. We'd be fine, given a bit of time.

Of course, Monday meant another meeting with Chester—we were having meetings on a weekly basis these days as the launch to Project Handbag got closer and closer—which meant that I had huge amounts of prep work to do, and lots of papers to pull together. I noticed with relief that Caroline was already at her desk.

“Hi!” She beamed at me. “So what do you think?”

“Think?” I looked at her uncertainly. “Think about what?”

She looked hurt; I stared at her harder. “Your hair?” She shook her head. “Um, something you've done to your face?” I felt like a man, like the typical boyfriend who doesn't notice when his girlfriend has shaved her head or, you know, more likely, tried a new lipstick. “A new lipstick?” I asked weakly.

“Yes! I knew it would make a difference,” Caroline said happily. “Your mother said it really brings out my eyes.”

I stared at her uncertainly. “Sorry, Caroline. I thought you just said something about my mother. Must be my hearing.”

“Your hearing?” Caroline laughed. “You're so funny. Just like her. I can't believe you never mentioned her before. She's amazing, Jess. Really amazing. And such great skin. I bet you're hoping you got her genes.”

I frowned uncomprehendingly. “You met my mother? How? When?”

“Darling!” My head shot up to see my mother walking toward me, arms outstretched. “What a lovely place this is. Everyone's made me feel so at home.”

“They have?” A frozen smile appeared on my face as I let her embrace me. “I mean, great. That's great,” I corrected myself. “So you thought you'd visit?”

She beamed at me. “Visit, hang out, you know. Max said I should drop by anytime, so here I am!”

“Sure.” I nodded, the smile still stuck on my face. “Of course, we do have work to do, but I'd be happy to show you around if you'd like?”

“No need,” my mother trilled. “A lovely man called Gareth has already given me the tour.”

“Gareth our creative director?”

My mother shrugged. “Gareth with very nice broad shoulders,” she said, giggling suddenly like a teenager.

Caroline giggled with her. “He's gorge, isn't he?” she said dreamily.

“Gay?” my mother asked.

Caroline nodded sadly. “The best ones always are.”

I cleared my throat noisily.

“Apart from Max, of course,” my mother said quickly, shooting a look at Caroline, who agreed vociferously.

“No,” I said, “that's not what I was clearing my throat about. Look, Mum, it's lovely to see you, but I really do have to do some work now.”

“Of course you do. You go right ahead,” she said, pulling up a chair. “I won't bother you at all. Pretend I'm not here.”

I turned to my computer, but it was no use. I turned back again. “The thing is, you
are
here,” I pointed out.

“But so are lots of people, and you can work with them around.”

I couldn't fault my mother's logic.

“Fine,” I said levelly “Fine.”

“So you like the lipstick?” Caroline asked.

I looked at her irritably, then sighed. It wasn't her fault—she didn't know my background; didn't know that my mother had only entered my life two days before. I forced myself to peer at her lips for a second. “Yes, I like it,” I said briskly. “Makes you look …” I searched for a suitable adjective. I wasn't sure “like you're wearing lipstick” was really going to cut it. “Elegant. It makes you look very elegant.”

“Exactly!” Caroline beamed again. “Just like your mother said. It makes me look more grown-up, doesn't it? More sophisticated.”

“It certainly does,” my mother interjected. “You look like a woman to be reckoned with.”

Caroline blushed happily.

“So,” I said, clapping my hands together, “big meeting today. I need the Project Handbag file updated and I need the detailed schedule. Do we have numbers on the launch event yet? Plus I need the budget sheet from accounts.”

“Absolutely,” Caroline said seriously, scribbling furiously. “Absolutely no problem at all. I'll get to it right away.”

“Thanks.” I sat down and turned on my computer.

“That was brilliant.” I jumped—my mother had wheeled her chair right up behind me and was now peering over my shoulder.

“Um, thanks,” I said, edging away from her. “Although I didn't really do anything.”

“You did. I saw you. You're so authoritative. So impressive. My little girl a senior executive.”

She was trying to hug me and I squirmed slightly. “I'm not a little girl,” I pointed out. “I'm an account director. And I've got a meeting in just over an hour. A really important one.”

“A meeting!” It was as if I'd told her I'd made a house out of PLAY-DOH; she had that misty-eyed proud thing that mothers of babies have.

“Yes, a meeting,” I said levelly “So you're going to have to move your chair.”

She gave me her doe-eyed look, then shrugged. “If you say so. Is that Max's office?” She stood up and started to make her way over. I quickly jumped up.

“Actually, you can't just walk in,” I said, grabbing her arm. “I mean, he's really busy. He's the managing director.”

“I know, darling.” She flashed me a smile and shrugged my hand off her. “And I'm sure he won't mind me interrupting him. I am, after all, going to be his mother-in-law. He's got to stay in my good graces!”

She laughed, throwing back her head and shaking her hair in a seamless movement; I noticed that everyone in the office had stopped what they were doing to stare at her.

“Still,” I said tightly. “It would probably be better if you made an appointment.”

“Appointment? For what?” Max's door opened and he appeared through it, his expression quizzical. Then his face broke into a grin. “Esther! How lovely to see you. Wonderful surprise!”

She glided over to him and took his hands in hers. “Oh, Max, I've just been admiring your company. It really is just fabulous.”

Max shrugged bashfully. “Thank you,” he said. “I mean it's very much a team effort …” He trailed off, catching my eye. “So what brings you here? Come to see Jess?”

“Jess, you, this,” she said dramatically, looking around and motioning to the entire office. “There's so much for me to learn about. So much to discover.”

She sniffed lightly, and Max immediately put his arm around her. “Of course there is. And you should be very proud. Jess is
running our biggest campaign, for our biggest client. Project Handbag. It's going to be huge.”

“Is it?” She looked at me admiringly. “How wonderful.” Then she turned back to Max. “So look, I was thinking the three of us could go out. For a late breakfast. Another brunch. It was so much fun yesterday, wasn't it?”

Max smiled ruefully and winked at me. “There's nothing I'd like better, Esther, but I'm afraid we're a bit tied up. We've got a meeting in a few minutes, so sadly breakfast isn't going to be possible. But how about later?”

“Later.” My mother nodded understandingly “Of course. You're busy. I should have known that. I should go anyway; I have lots and lots to do. But later sounds lovely. I'll call, shall I?”

She flashed me a smile and I felt my frozen smile returning. When I'd told her I was busy she ignored me; Max said the same and she decided she had to go?

“Sounds great,” I said, ushering her toward the door. “You've got my number. After work would be good.”

“After work.” She smiled. “That sounds …”

But she never got to finish her sentence, because at that moment the main doors opened and three men swept through, talking loudly to one another, one of whom had an unmistakable accent.

“Chester!” I said. “You're early!”

“Early bird catches the worm.” He grinned, then stopped dead when he saw my mother. “And who is this?”

“Not a worm,” my mother said, stepping forward, her face suddenly lit up by a magnetic smile. “I'm Jessica's mother. And you are?”

“Chester Rydall, at your service.”

“Chester, if you want to come to the meeting room,” I said, “I can get Max …” But he wasn't listening to me; I don't think he even noticed I was speaking.

“Jessica's mother,” he said, not taking his eyes off the woman who was supposed to have left the building ages ago. “Well, I am very pleased to have met you. Very pleased indeed.”

He turned to me and smiled. “So is your father in town, too?”

“No, he …,” I started to say, but my mother immediately cut in.

“No, he's not,” she said, with a slightly sad smile. “He and I are … well, we're no longer together.”

I stared at her—she was saying it like they'd got divorced a year ago or something.

“Shame,” Chester said.

“Not really,” my mother said, her smile a little less sad now.

I raised my eyebrows indignantly. This was my father she was talking about. He deserved a little respect. Maybe. I mean, not that I really knew, but …

I watched my mother look for a wedding ring on Chester's left hand. There was none. “Well anyway, it's wonderful to meet such an important client of my daughter. I've heard so much about you. Project Handbag sounds absolutely fascinating.”

My eyes widened. Since when did she know about Project Handbag?

“It certainly is,” Chester said, apparently mesmerized. “So, Jess's mother, do you have a name?”

“Esther. My name's Esther,” my mother said, holding out her hand.

“Well, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Esther,” Chester said in a low voice. “And if you're so interested in Project Handbag, perhaps you could join me for dinner sometime and I'll tell you about it. The client side, that is. I'm sure you know all about the campaign from your talented daughter.”

“Absolutely,” my mother breathed. “That sounds … very tempting.”

“Just tempting?” Chester asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Why don't you call me,” she said, seamlessly taking a card out of her bag.

“I'll do that,” Chester said, not missing a beat. He took the card and looked at it, then put it in his jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

“And I'll look forward to it.” My mother held his eye for just a bit too long, then smiled sweetly and turned back to me. “Darling, lovely to see you.” She kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my shoulder, then, shooting Chester one last smile, she finally walked toward the doors and left.

“Sorry about that,” I said, immediately rushing over to Chester and his two colleagues who had been having their own conversation for the past few minutes. “So we've got lots of information for you today. Schedules and budgets and …”

“Sure,” Chester interrupted, putting his arm around me in an avuncular fashion. “I'll just bet you have. But listen, Jess. Tell me about your mother. She going through some tricky divorce? Anything I should know about?”

I smiled tightly, not entirely sure why I found the prospect of Chester so obviously fancying my mother so incredibly irritating. “Not that I'm aware of,” I said. “Now, about Project Handbag.”

“Ah Max,” Chester said, as Max appeared out of his office. “How are you? And why have I never before met Jess's gorgeous mother?”

Max grinned. “Chester. Good to see you. You met her, did you?”

“I surely did.” Chester twinkled. “Shame she couldn't stay.”

“Isn't it,” Max agreed jovially, as I stared at him indignantly. It was as if as soon as my mother appeared, I ceased to exist. “Oh, Jess, did you get the message about Hugh?”

My heart skipped a beat as my head shot up guiltily. “Hugh? A message? No. What was it. Hugh … he called me? What did he want?”

Max looked at me strangely. “He agreed to cater for the launch.”

“He … did?” I felt my mouth go dry. “But why? Why would he cater for us? I don't …”

“Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall,” Max said to Chester who also had a rather blank look. “He's a celebrity chef. Wonderful cook.”

“Hugh Fearnley…” I gasped, forcing myself to smile, to laugh. “Oh, right. I knew that. I was just joking. Before. Just now …”