Daughters (33 page)

The pigeons’ call was soft and glottal.

Nobody pushes me.
Maudie stuffed the phone into her jeans pocket. Yet, to be honest, everyone was pushed about by someone. It was one of the things she had learned – and, funnily enough, it included Alicia, who had only the best of intentions.

She looked back over her shoulder at the trio of Eve, Sarah and her mother on the terrace – and was surprised by a surge of solidarity with Eve. At the same time, she
was
anxious to leave. The lure of the university campus was as strong as ever. Still, there were questions.
I’m running away? No, I’m merely running.
But could she thrive in a strange place, with strange people, and negotiate the subtleties of strangers?

‘It’ll be a place where everyone speaks the same language but probably doesn’t understand anyone else,’ she had said to Alicia.

‘You think that, do you?’ said Alicia. ‘You can tell me when you get there if it’s true.’

She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check it. Nothing. She stuffed it back. She didn’t
need
to look at her phone
.

Harvard: the pros and cons occupied many of her waking moments.

And so did Nick.

At the thought of him, she caught her breath.

As she approached, her father looked up. ‘Dad, I’ve been told to tell you that lunch is nearly ready.’

He looked wary. ‘Is it the Third World War up there?’

She stuck her hands into her pockets. ‘Yes and no. Sarah feels left out.’

‘I know she does.’

‘Are you going to do anything? Or just …’

He would know what she was about to say.
Or just ignore it as always
.

‘I trust your mother to sort it out. She has a better knack.’ He hefted compost on to the flowerbed and forked it over. ‘How are things?’

‘Great.’

‘Done all the paperwork and stuff? Did you get the letter I sent you about the finances?’

‘Sure. Thank you.’

‘You’re going to have to find work in the holidays.’

‘I didn’t expect anything else. Anyway, I’d insist on it.’

The fork emitted little scraping sounds as he spread the compost this way and that. ‘About freshmen’s week …’

‘I know what you’re going to say.’

‘In that case, you’ll appreciate the wisdom of the argument.’ A claggy, fibrous root had stuck to the tine of the fork and he tugged it off. ‘Why the change of heart, by the way?’

Maudie examined her boot. Leather (cracked) and in need of polishing. ‘I thought Eve needed all the support she could get.’

Her father stuck the fork into the remaining compost. ‘Would there be any special reason for this unusual display of sisterly love?’

‘No.’ Maudie couldn’t quite look him in the eye.

‘Sure?’

After all, she reasoned, he had sugared off with another woman and it could be argued that he and Andrew were all of a piece. Why should she trust him to do the right thing by Eve? ‘Quite sure,’ she said.

They walked back to the house together. ‘About the advice I didn’t need to give you because you know it anyway,’ said her father. ‘Please believe I don’t have any axe to grind. I really think it would be for the best.’

She fingered the phone in her pocket. ‘That’s nice,’ she said cautiously.

She had placed her foot on the first of the stone steps when he stopped her. ‘Maudie, you will keep in touch?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I am your father.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, but something red hot and vindictive swept over her. ‘I always wanted a
father.
’ He looked as though she had hit him. ‘But I’m grateful for all your help over Harvard.’

‘Maudie …’

She moved further up the steps.

‘How can I persuade you that both your mother and I did our best in difficult circumstances?’

Maudie looked down at his upturned face. ‘But you
did
leave.’

‘Yes,’ he conceded. ‘I did.’

‘I would never leave my children.
Never.
And for Shrinking V. …’

‘For God’s sake,’ he said angrily. ‘Have you
no
understanding at all?’

But she wasn’t listening as she ran up the steps and into the house.

After a strained lunch eaten mainly in silence, Eve said, ‘I need to check the vases before I go. Will you help me, Maudie?’

Anything to avoid Sarah’s terrible coffee. Maudie leaped to her feet. ‘Sure.’

Despite the sunshine, the outhouse was cold and smelt of mould. There were bits of old furniture – a chest of drawers and a couple of chairs without seats – plus plastic sacks stuffed with stuff. Together they shunted the boxes containing the vases on to a bench under the window.

‘I wonder what this outhouse was for.’ Maudie divided up the boxes between them. ‘I think I can smell whitewash and lime.’

Eve shrugged. ‘Probably used by a gardener in the days when you had gardeners.’ She began to inspect each vase in the boxes carefully. Maudie followed suit.

‘Maudie?’ Eve spoke in a low, urgent tone. ‘I think we should have a talk.’

Maudie smiled. ‘Not you too.’

Eve caught her arm. ‘You don’t know what I’m going to say.’

‘No, I don’t.’

Eve returned to the task in hand. She lifted out a vase
and held it up to the light. ‘I think you must miss the wedding and go.’

‘Eve!’

‘I think the wedding’s sorted some issues out and that’s not a bad thing. You and I have had our differences and I’m sorry about that. But I’ve thought about it. I don’t
want
you not to be at the wedding, but I think it’s necessary for you to go. If you miss all the bonding and stuff, you’ll be at a disadvantage.’ She licked her finger and rubbed at a smudge on the glass and confessed, with some difficulty, ‘I know what it’s like to be different.’

Maudie was conscious of the breath going in and out of her lungs. She longed for one of Nick’s brilliant vodka-and-limes. (Not a good sign.)

‘When you’re different, you’re different, and for a long time, and I wouldn’t like that to happen to you.’

‘What do you mean “for a long time”?’

‘OK.’ Eve slotted the final vase of the first box back into place. ‘Do you remember when Jas and I were at Brightwells? In the early days, I mean.’

‘Not really.’

Yes, she did. Maudie sitting at the top of the stairs while her mother rushed about below with packed lunches and coats. Jasmine and Eve in stiff shiny blue skirts and white blouses. The way their shoes creaked. The bulging book bags. The sense of drama and urgency.

She remembered, too, her mother waiting for their return. Sometimes one or other of them would be crying or sullen. Sometimes one or other refused to eat the tea
their mother had prepared. Sometimes both were too tired to talk.

‘What about it?’ she asked.

‘When Jas first went, then me later,’ said Eve, ‘nobody wanted to be friends. They were
interested
in us but it was because our mother had died. Nobody knew how to treat us. They talked about us but didn’t invite us over or anything like that. Worse, the teachers sometimes favoured us because they thought we needed extra attention. Later on it didn’t matter, of course. But it made a huge difference in that first year. Ask Jas, she’ll tell you.’

‘You’re giving me permission to go?’

Eve dived into her pocket, produced Sellotape and secured the box. ‘The bridesmaid’s dress is cancelled.’ She shot Maudie a sly look. ‘The pink meringue.’

‘Eve …’

‘It’s all right, I know you called it that.’ Eve continued. ‘I’ve thought it through. I’ll Skype you before I go to the church so you can see me. That means you’ll have to get up early.’

‘Oh, Evie.’ Maudie found herself weeping. ‘Of
course
I can get up.’

‘Stupid.’ Eve dabbed at Maudie’s eyes with a tissue. Her touch was careful, even tender. ‘Then that’s that.’

‘OK,’ said Maudie. She replaced the lid of a box she had finished checking and held out her hand for the Sellotape. ‘Evie, what can I say?’

‘Don’t say anything.’ Eve stacked a box. ‘It’s nothing.
Nothing.
’

This was the Eve she knew. Unsentimental, fierce, terrified of giving way.

For a minute or so, there was nothing to be heard but the zip of the Sellotape as they stuck down the last boxes.

Eventually Maudie said, ‘I hope you’ll be happy.’

Eve had her back to her, stowing the boxes against the wall. Her movements were deft, decided, efficient. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t be?’

‘Well …’ said Maudie. How stupid she sounded. ‘It’s like this …’

Eve turned around. An eyebrow flew up. ‘It’s like what?’

They exchanged a look. Was Eve sending her a message?
Keep quiet
.

‘Nothing,’ said Maudie, finally. ‘Not worth talking about.’

Eve gave a tight little smile. ‘Let’s go in, then.’

Out on the terrace, Lara and Sarah finished writing the invitations. The bright sun bleached out the ink on the lists, and the pages became criss-crossed with amendments.

Sarah was pretty silent, and the corners of her mouth had gone down. Lara said, ‘Sarah, I’m sorry about the battle over guests.’

‘It’s been an eye-opener.’ Her tongue flickered over her lips.

‘Please bear with Evie.’ Lara wrote ‘check Taylors’ address’ and ‘Robin?’ in her diary. ‘I’m sure we can sort out the numbers.’

‘Maybe,’ said Sarah, with the same tight expression. ‘But it was the attitude. The damage had been done.’ She dropped her voice. ‘As I say, it’s been a revelation.’

‘Anything in particular?’

Sarah looked up at her house. ‘To think …’ she began. Then: ‘Forget it!’

‘Let’s not forget it.’ Lara licked the final envelope and dropped it on the top of the pile. ‘Please …’

Holding a mug of tea, Bill stepped out on to the terrace through the french windows. ‘Have I missed the worst?’ He looked from his ex-wife to his current one. ‘What’s up?’

Lara got her to feet and went to stand beside him. ‘Let’s have it out. Sarah feels we’re taking advantage of her generosity and usurping her house.’

‘I had no idea,’ Sarah was now standing on the other side of him, ‘that your family would be so overwhelming, Bill. I wish I hadn’t offered the house.’

Bill didn’t like that. ‘I thought it was a joint decision?’

‘Sort of,’ said Sarah. ‘But you couldn’t have held the wedding here if I’d disagreed. Could you?’

‘Well, no.’

‘As I see it, it’s a question of whether I’m part of this family, or not.’

‘Lara,’ said Bill, ‘I insist that Eve invites Sarah’s brother.’

The tight, tense expression on Sarah’s face relaxed a trifle. ‘Thank you, Bill.’

‘I agree,’ said Lara. ‘You must tell Eve, and I will too.’

She and Bill exchanged a look – the complicity of parents acting in tandem.

‘It’s not been a good day.’ Bill took Sarah’s hand, and the tiny flicker of jealousy on her face died away. ‘Maudie and I have had words.’

‘Shall I disappear?’ said Sarah, looking weary again. ‘Is this another Russell-family thing?’

Lara said, ‘Don’t, Sarah. We’re all in this. What’s Maudie going on about?’

Bill drew himself up to his full height. ‘It’s the old flashpoint. It was me leaving you.’

‘Oh.’ Lara sat down again. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’d better tell Maudie the whys and wherefores about what happened and she can make up her own mind.’

Sarah’s colour returned to normal. ‘Lara, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.’ She dropped down into the chair beside Lara and leaned forward earnestly. ‘We do have a right to a private life that the children shouldn’t know about.’

She was right. But. ‘But, in this case … it was mainly my fault.’

‘Possibly.’ Sarah shot Bill a look.

Bill leaned over the back of the third chair. He looked immeasurably sad. ‘Maudie’s hostility is hard but that’s no reason, Lara.’

Lara looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Their stillness belied the churning of her emotions. ‘I think I owe it to everyone.’

‘Well, that’s a first,’ said Bill to Lara.

It was an old, old joke. It meant things were better. Much, much better.

Sarah turned to Lara. ‘Will
you
talk to Maudie?’ Her customary gentle concern was back.

Lara reached over and touched her arm. ‘I will.’

‘Eve had already cancelled the bridesmaid’s dress,’ Maudie informed Lara, as they started to drive back to London.

Lara was fussing with the wheel as she manoeuvred around a parked van in the village. The strain was making the tendons stand out on her neck. ‘Had she?’

‘She told me that Jas and she were treated in a funny way at school.’

‘That’s true.’ Her mother looked neither right nor left. ‘It was very difficult for them. It wasn’t that the other children were unkind, but they marked them out. Particularly after your father left. I had many an anxious conversation with the teachers.’

Maudie said, ‘You gave up quite a lot of your life for us.’

Lara turned her head to Maudie and smiled. ‘But I wanted to. What else should I have done?’

‘You don’t regret it?’

They had turned out of the village on to the main road before Lara replied. ‘Maudie, I’ve made many mistakes …’

Ever curious, Maudie asked, ‘What mistakes?’

Her mother’s lips tightened. ‘Sometimes I felt unworthy of you all. And not up to the job.’ She grinned. ‘Sometimes, mind you. Not all the time.’

Maudie sat back in the seat. Now that the pink meringue
was out of the picture, she felt an unaccountable loss. That puzzled her – her interest in such things was minimal. Even more complicated, it was followed by regret and a touch of envy that she would not be at Membury for her sister’s wedding.

Then there was Nick.
Why can’t you be ordinary?

She recollected with a voluptuous pleasure the salty taste of his sweat. The feel of his skin. His cry. The way he had murmured into her neck when they lay together afterwards.

The way he had taken her hand and held it to his heart.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the important things. Absorbing a new country, new politics, a new culture. She imagined waking in her university lodging surrounded by books, the high, vivid colours of the American fall, learning to cope with the mysteries of student life, the Phi Gamma Delta idiom (was that the right way of naming it?). She braced herself as to what it would feel like to be a long way from home.