Learning curves (13 page)

Jen nodded silently as the waiter came over to take their order. He was right, she thought to herself as she ordered. Being here with her father was the best Christmas present she could have wished for.

15

“We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!”

Jen smiled tentatively as her mother handed her a glass of sherry and sang along to Geoffrey’s terrible piano accompaniment. Harriet hated to be alone at Christmas and regularly invited virtual strangers to spend the festivities with them rather than face an empty dining table, and Jen had always enjoyed it before. But now all these people just seemed like barriers between her and her mother, preventing Jen from speaking her mind. Stopping her from asking Harriet whether it was true she had an affair, and why she’d lied for so many years about George not wanting to see her. She sighed— maybe it was a good thing all these people were here. Right now she was so confused about everything it was probably best to keep quiet.

Jen bit her tongue and looked around the room to see who she’d be spending the day with. Geoffrey was a Green Futures’s stalwart—he’d been at the company nearly as long as her mother and was also a regular at Christmas. Then there was Hannah, who’d joined the firm around the same time as Jen and who always eyed Jen with a certain level of suspicion, and Mick, who worked for Tim in the accounts department. She didn’t know him very well at all. Finally in the corner, nursing a drink that looked suspiciously like whiskey neat, was Paul Song.

He did a little mini bow when he saw her, and she wandered over unenthusiastically. “Good trip?” she asked conversationally. “Mum said you were away.”

He nodded. “Yes. I was in Ireland. A very beautiful place. Very enjoyable.”

Jen frowned. “I thought Mum said Scotland,” she said. Paul blanched.

“Of course, sorry. I get confused. Yes, it was Scotland. Definitely Scotland.”

“Come on, darling, sing along. Good tidings we bring to you and your kin . . .” Her mother motioned for Jen to join them. Jen eyed Paul suspiciously and moved over to where the others were standing.

“We wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year,” she chipped in halfheartedly and helped herself to a handful of peanuts.

“Very good for your skin, peanuts,” Hannah observed. “Cashew nuts, too. Actually, all nuts.”

“To eat or rub in?” Jen asked.

Hannah looked at her oddly. “How would you rub a peanut into your skin?”

“Rub a peanut into your skin?” Harriet said, wandering over. “I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. Who wants you to rub peanuts into your skin, Hannah?”

“Jen does,” Hannah said, eyeing her cautiously.

Jen smiled weakly and sat down on the sofa. She considered telling Hannah that she’d meant the oil—peanut oil—but decided it would probably be best to let the whole matter rest.

“If you were going to rub them in, I suppose they might be a good exfoliator,” Hannah continued thoughtfully. “Although you’d probably have to break them up a bit first.”

“Nuts have a very low glycemic index,” said Mick in a deadpan voice. “My ex, Shirley, used to eat them all the time. Said they had good oils in them.”

“See?” said Hannah triumphantly. “Good for your skin. Like I said.”

“Personally, I thought that oil was fattening, but that just shows how much I know about diets,” Mick continued. “Like potatoes. One minute they’re low fat, the next they’re forbidden. I can’t keep up. I just used to say you eat what you want. ’Course, then she said I was trying to keep her fat. When I said I wasn’t, she said that proved that I thought she was fat. Or something like that. She always found something to criticize, did Shirley.”

Jen stared at Mick, mesmerized by his monotone voice. “Why did you split up?” she enquired.

Mick looked up in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to actually be listening to him.

“Don’t know, really,” he said dolefully. “Said I didn’t really understand her. She had a point, too. I didn’t know what she was going on about half the time.”

Jen nodded sympathetically as her mother wandered back into the kitchen, followed swiftly by Hannah.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asked interestedly.

“Kind of. Yes.” Jen felt a little warm feeling rush over her and took a few seconds to enjoy it. Daniel. The very thought of him made her feel so much better, even if strictly speaking they weren’t exactly boyfriend and girlfriend yet.

“Oh,” said Mick. “Oh well. I suppose there are other fish in the sea. Now that’s something my mother used to say a lot, and I don’t know why. What’s anything got to do with fish?”

Jen raised her eyebrows as if to sympathize with the sentiment, but she wasn’t really listening to Mick anymore. She was thinking about Daniel. Wondering what he was doing. Northumberland suddenly seemed an awfully long way away.

“You all right?” Mick asked.

She realized that she’d been staring into space for a couple of minutes. And that she’d been left alone on the sofa with Mick. Everyone had gone into the kitchen apart from Paul, who was staring into his drink. Jen picked up her glass.

“I think I need a refill,” she said quickly, swigging down nearly an entire glass of sherry in one go. It filled her stomach with a welcome warmth and sent a rather nice rush to her head. “Can I get you one?”

Mick shook his head. “Alcohol. That’s fattening, too,” he was saying as he followed her into the kitchen.

Harriet, as usual, was holding court, standing at the head of the kitchen table with everyone else sitting round in silence, listening to her.

“And that’s when I had the brainwave,” she was saying, as everyone listened attentively. “A poster campaign in all their shops with pictures of the children they were helping from the local neighborhood. It was a triumph. . . .”

Jen sat down and listened appreciatively as her mother regaled the room with stories about Green Futures, its clients, its early wins, her various television appearances. She could hold a room like no other, and Jen had always loved her stories, loved the fact that she was Harriet’s daughter. She’d felt so proud.

But now Jen realized that she’d heard all these stories a hundred times before. And she didn’t know if she could believe a single one.

“So come on then, little miss MBA,” Geoffrey said when Harriet had finished a story with a flourish. “Are you going to tell us what it’s like at Big Bad Bell?”

Jen looked at him uncertainly, then looked at Harriet.
No one was meant to know,
she said with her eyes.

Harriet smiled nervously. “Darling, I couldn’t keep it a secret forever. And I’ve only told everyone here. They’re practically family.”

Jen looked at her incredulously. “Mum . . . ,” she started to say, then shrugged. What did it matter if everyone knew, if Harriet had been unable to resist the urge to tell an exciting story, even if it resulted in her breaking a promise to her own daughter?

“I thought about doing an MBA once,” Mick said behind her. “But I did an accountancy qualification instead. Wanted to work in finance so I thought it would be best. Difficult to know, though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, thanks for that, Mick,” Geoffrey said with a little smile. “Come on, Jen, spill the beans. Tell us about the bastards at Bell Consulting. I have to say, better you than me.”

“I’d rather not talk about it if it’s okay,” she said stiffly. “Do you need any help with the food, Mum?” she asked quickly. Questions were bubbling up inside her, and she didn’t know how long she could last playing the role of happy daughter.

“Food?” Harriet asked vaguely. “Oh, you mean Christmas dinner? Well, actually, there’s been a bit of a change of plan on that front, too. I was thinking, since we are fortunate enough to have Paul here, that he could cook us a traditional Tibetan Christmas meal. And he very kindly agreed, didn’t you, Paul?”

Paul nodded and smiled, and Jen looked at him uncertainly. “I didn’t think they celebrated Christmas in Tibet.”

“Oh, well, sometimes they do,” he said quickly. “Really, this is more of a generic celebratory meal, though.”

Jen nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “So, no turkey and mince pies, then?” she asked, attempting to sound jovial and failing miserably.

“No, darling,” Harriet said firmly. “Now, let’s put on some music, and we can open our presents!”

Jen bit her lip and went to find the myriad presents she’d wrapped. She never knew in advance who would be at her mother’s for Christmas, so she tended to over-buy, bringing a sackload of generic presents that would suit anyone, just in case.

“Right, here you are,” her mother said brightly, depositing a beautifully wrapped parcel in her lap.

Slowly, she unwrapped it. She peeled off the thick cream paper, and then started to unravel the tissue paper that lay beneath, and finally found herself holding a lacquered, white box. Carefully, she opened the box and found herself staring at a wooden block.

“It’s a musical instrument,” her mother said excitedly. “Paul brought it at my request, all the way from China!”

Jen held it up and looked at it more closely. “Wow!” she said brightly. “So, what does it do?”

“Well, you bang it, of course. Look on the side— there’s a little stick attached.”

Jen looked, and sure enough, there was a little baton with a circular blob on the end. She banged the piece of wood and it sounded like . . . a piece of wood. “Thanks, Mum,” Jen said quietly. “Really, it’s great.”

She handed over her mother’s present, and Harriet opened it with great gusto. Inside was a first edition of
Winnie the Pooh.
It had been Harriet’s favorite book when she was little, and she would read it to Jen night after night.

Harriet looked at it quickly. “Oh, a book. How sweet. How lovely. Right, now, Paul, why don’t you open your present?” She deposited a large parcel in front of Paul, who frowned as he pulled away the wrapping. Jen forced herself to smile, trying not to get worked up about her mother’s dismissal of the present she’d spent so long tracking down.

“
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance!
” Harriet announced, clapping, before Paul could speak. “Isn’t it perfect!”

He smiled, looking at the book curiously.

“I’m sure you’ve already read it,” she continued excitedly, “but I just looked at it and thought of you.”

Paul nodded seriously. “Of course,” he said, putting the book down.

Jen eyed him suspiciously. “Of course, what?” she wanted to ask, but Harriet was already handing out gifts to everyone else and telling them how perfect the presents were before they had time to react themselves.
Has she always been this annoying,
Jen wondered,
or is it a new thing?

By four o’clock, Jen was exhausted. The Tibetan hot pot had been surprisingly delicious, but there was no doubt that it had left a huge gaping hole in her stomach where Christmas pudding and mince pies should have been, and she’d spent about as much time as she could bear listening to Harriet tell everyone the story of how she’d set up Green Futures from scratch, the story of how she’d singlehandedly saved a large stretch of woodland in southeast England, and the story of her trip around the world to spread the message of corporate social responsibility and how grateful everyone had been.

Eventually, when Harriet stopped to draw breath, Jen stood up and walked over to her. She couldn’t stay silent, she’d realized. She just didn’t work that way. She needed to talk to her mother, needed to know the truth, and she needed to do it now. “Can I have a word?” she asked.

Harriet smiled beatifically. “Of course. Everyone, Jen’s got something to say.”

Jen cringed. “No, I meant in private.”

Harriet looked confused, then smiled. “Of course, darling. Let’s go to the kitchen. So,” Harriet said as soon as they were out of earshot, “do you have some news on your father? You’ve gone rather quiet lately.”

Jen sat down and Harriet joined her, looking at her expectantly. “I spoke to him.”

“Spoke to whom, darling?”

“Dad. I spoke to Dad.”

Harriet frowned. “You spoke to George? I don’t think I understand. Did he know it was you?”

Jen nodded.

“Oh God,” Harriet gasped. “So the secret’s out? How did he react? Was he very angry?”

“You had the affair.”

Harriet started, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry?” she asked angrily. “What did you say?”

“Dad told me that you had the affair, not him.”

Harriet looked at her daughter indignantly. “And you believe your father rather than me? Trust the man who betrayed me, who left you without a second glance . . .”

“Did he really? Or did you leave him?”

Harriet frowned. “Darling, it was all such a long time ago. Does it really matter now? The point is that you and I . . . we’re a team. We’re . . .”

“So you
did
have an affair?” Jen’s voice was monotone. She told herself it was because she was beyond caring, but in reality it was her way of keeping a check on herself, to stop her voice turning into a hurt, angry squeak.

Harriet looked closely at her daughter, then slumped back against her chair. Hesitating, she tried to take Jen’s hand, and when Jen quickly moved it away, she nodded, a look of resignation on her face.

“Jen, darling, I did what I thought I had to do. George may not have had an actual affair, but he might as well have done. He was never there, never left that bloody office. And when he said he was leaving, I just couldn’t bear the idea of him taking you, too. Darling, I wanted to protect you. . . .”

“You lied to me.” There were tears pricking at Jen’s eyes and she wiped them away angrily.

“I didn’t think you’d understand. I knew George would be too busy to see you, that he would only disappoint you as he had done already, time after time, missing your birthdays, your concerts. I thought . . . I thought it would be easier. . . .”

Jen looked at her mother and could see the insecurity in Harriet’s face, but it only made Jen more angry, more resentful. “He’s my father,” she said quietly.

Harriet nodded. “You’re angry,” she said. “And I understand . . .”

“You understand?” Jen asked incredulously. “You understand? Is that it?”

“Paul said that you’d react like this, and I just thought . . .”

“Paul knew?” Jen spat. “Paul knew about this and I didn’t?”