A Thousand Tiny Disappointments, page 14
‘Who is this girl?’ asked Claudia, eventually. ‘I mean, why did your mother like her so much?’
Martha shrugged. ‘She’s nice enough, but I don’t understand how they came to be so close. It doesn’t really matter now though, so there’s no point me trying to work it out.’
Another lie. Alice, and her strange friendship with Judith, was constantly at the forefront of her mind. She was able to think about little else, and she always came to the same conclusion. Whatever it was that had drawn the two women together, it was more powerful than her own relationship with her mother. Judith hadn’t just left her home to any dearly beloved friend – someone of her own age, whom she’d known for decades. She had left it to someone much younger than her – a woman she had probably started to look on as a surrogate daughter. So, it followed that the person who was the weakest link in this chain was Martha, Judith’s own daughter, who presumably hadn’t made the grade.
Claudia tipped the rest of the wine into their glasses. Martha was shocked to see they’d already worked their way through the bottle.
‘Hey, Martha?’
She looked up, but for a second didn’t recognise the man standing beside their table.
‘It’s Dan, from music therapy?’
‘Oh yes! Sorry, I was miles away. How are you?’
‘Great,’ he nodded. ‘It’s my night of freedom. My parents have Johnny for one night a week, to give me a break. I’m out with some friends.’ He indicated a couple of men sitting round a table at the far end of the bar.
‘Oh, that’s good. I only came out for a quick glass of wine, but it stretched into a proper evening!’ She looked across at Claudia, who was raising her eyebrows at her. ‘This is my friend, Claudia.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Dan, before turning back to Martha. ‘We missed you at the session yesterday. I think we’re going to be regulars there – Johnny really loves it.’
‘Oh, that’s good. Sorry, Joe and I couldn’t make it; I had a solicitor’s appointment…’ She paused, suddenly realising she didn’t want to say anything else about where she’d been. It would mean telling this virtual stranger that her mother had just died, injecting a whole new element into their relationship, which would involve explanations and sympathetic responses.
‘Anyway, I don’t want to interrupt your evening,’ said Dan. ‘I just saw you here and thought I’d say hello. Maybe see you next week?’
‘Yes, that would be great,’ smiled Martha. ‘See you then.’
‘Well, bye Dan!’ whispered Claudia, as he walked away. ‘Wow, who the hell is that?’
‘Oh, he’s just one of the parents from that music session I take Joe to,’ said Martha. ‘Stop staring, Claudia! You’re so embarrassing.’
‘How well do you know him?’
‘Not well at all. I spoke to him for the first time, last week. He’s got a very cute little boy, called Johnny.’
‘He looks,’ said Claudia, ‘like someone it would be worth getting to know better. He’s gorgeous, and he seems to be quite taken with you too.’
Martha looked across to the other side of the bar, where Dan had rejoined his two friends. He was clearly telling them where he’d met her, and both men turned, openly curious. Dan caught her eye, and grinned. She smiled back and, to her surprise, felt her stomach do a small flip.
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said to Claudia. ‘He’s just being friendly.’
24
‘Right, I’ve had them both in and I think we’ll be better off going with Moretons,’ said Patrick. ‘Commission rates are the same, but they’re a bigger outfit and have a slightly higher spend on advertising.’
Martha was loading the dishwasher, trying to work out how to fit a couple of large water glasses into the already packed tray.
‘Hang on a minute,’ she said. ‘Slow down! I have no idea what you’re talking about?’ It was unusual for Patrick to call – he usually sent her one-line texts.
‘For God’s sake, Martha. Listen!’ He sighed. ‘I had the agents’ valuations through for the bungalow earlier this week. Should have got onto it sooner, but I’m really up against it at the moment. I know we can’t agree a sale until we’ve got probate, but it would be good to get things moving. They can take photographs, get the details ready.’
She slammed the dishwasher door shut. ‘Do we need to push this through so quickly? It feels a bit obscene, Patrick, to be honest. We haven’t even had the funeral yet and…’
‘What’s the point in hanging around?’ he said. ‘We need to get that house sold.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘No suppose about it. Once it’s on the market they’ll be able to handle all the viewings, obviously. But we’ll need to get the place sorted first. All those bloody awful ornaments will have to go, plus the clutter in the kitchen, clothes, personal stuff.’
‘What are you saying, Patrick? Are you expecting me to go down and sort everything out?’
‘Well, I haven’t got the time to do it,’ he said, sounding astounded she’d even suggested it. ‘I’ve got far too much on at work. The other thing is, I think we need to be very careful with that dog walking girl.’
‘How do you mean, careful?’
‘Watch what you say to her. There’s a chance our bloody deranged mother may have told her what she’d done. We have no idea, because she didn’t think it was important enough to tell her own children what she was planning to do.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mum wasn’t deranged,’ said Martha. ‘Quite the opposite!’
‘Whatever. The fact is, she may well have had discussions with that girl about the whole thing. Maybe she didn’t tell her exactly what she was planning, but I bet she hinted she was going to leave her something in her will. People rarely do things like this for purely altruistic reasons – they want gratitude; love and respect in return for the big favour they’re doing someone.’
‘But if Alice knew Mum was going to leave her something, why hasn’t she shown any interest in hearing about it?’ asked Martha.
‘Oh, Martha,’ sighed Patrick, ‘you are so naïve. This girl has been scheming to get her hands on that bungalow. She’s not stupid, she’ll hang back and wait for us to go and talk to her about it, so she doesn’t arouse suspicion. She knows there’s no urgency, because it always takes weeks to sort out the formalities when someone dies.’
‘Patrick, this is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘I don’t think she had any idea what Mum was thinking of doing.’
‘I’m just saying, be careful,’ he said. ‘Not everyone is as trusting or honest as you, Martha. We need to think about how we deal with this, if she demands to know what Mum left her in the will.’
After he’d rung off, Martha stood staring out into the garden, listening to the dishwasher motor hum gently as water poured into the machine.
It was hard to believe Alice knew anything about the will. Admittedly Martha had only met her on a handful of occasions, but she didn’t agree with Patrick’s assumption that the girl was hard-nosed and manipulative, and had persuaded Judith to sign away her house. It was the sort of thing that only happened in TV dramas; anyway, their mother hadn’t been at all gullible. For the first time it occurred to her that Judith might have looked on Alice as some sort of project.
She could do so much with her life, she heard her mother saying, as she lay in the hospital bed. I’m always telling her she needs to go back to college, get herself some qualifications.
Maybe this was what it was all about? Judith had grown to love this young woman, who had so far not managed to do an awful lot with her life. She had wanted to give her some kind of kick-start. In which case, she had been trying to help Alice, not hold back Martha and Patrick.
But the bottom line was, with no explanation or warning, she had intended to disinherit her own children, and she must have known that would leave them confused and wounded. Or Martha would have been left feeling like that. Patrick would just have been furious. This hard edge to her brother’s voice was nothing new – it had always been there, along with the arrogance and overbearing self-confidence. It had always made her feel uncomfortable, but now it was starting to scare her. It was ironic as well, she thought, that he’d told her she needed to be careful, because not everyone was as honest as she was. Honest was the very last thing Martha felt right now.
25
‘When do you think we’ll hear from them?’ asked Simon. ‘It sounds like he did fine on the taster day, so I can’t understand why it’s taking them so long to get back to us.’
Every time he mentioned Greenways, Martha’s stomach lurched. It would be fantastic for Joe if they offered him a place, but the prospect of living here in this big empty house without her boy was making her feel physically sick. Every morning she woke to the sound of him calling out; every morning she wandered into his bedroom, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, dragging on her dressing gown; every morning she lifted him out of his bed and carried him downstairs to the kitchen. What would her life be like if she didn’t need to do any of those things? She couldn’t imagine it. She didn’t want to.
‘If they do give him a place, we’ll need to sit down and sort out the finances as soon as possible,’ Simon was saying. ‘I know the basic fees are on the website, but I bet there will be extras on top of that. They’ll probably want some kind of deposit to secure the place as well.’
Martha shrugged. She wanted to cry. How could he be so bloody cheerful at the prospect of their son going away?
‘If they accept him, the timing will be great,’ Simon said. ‘I know it’s been awful, about your mum, but the money you’ll get from her estate will be really useful at the moment. Do you know how long probate is going to take? Has Patrick talked about doing it himself or are you going to use a solicitor?’
Martha shook her head; she didn’t trust herself to speak. Part of her was so angry, she wanted to reach out and smack him across the face: she’d never hit anyone in her life, but his callousness was beyond hurtful. Her mother had died, but all he could think about was getting his hands on her money. She stared at him, wondering whether she even knew this man any more. How had they got to this stage? The Simon she’d met nine years ago had been thoughtful and sensitive – much more so than any of her previous boyfriends. She had loved that about him, but also teased him for it. ‘You’re too kind,’ she’d said, after he gave a friend £400 to pay off gambling debts. ‘You’re a soft touch. People will take advantage.’
‘Let them,’ he’d said, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the tip of her nose. ‘My friends and family matter to me. You can’t go through life being hard-nosed and not helping anyone.’
Yet here was this same man, asking how long she thought it would be before they could get access to whatever his mother-in-law had squirrelled away in the bank.
Martha dropped her eyes to the table in front of her and used one thumbnail to pick at a loose flake of skin at the edge of the other. A bead of blood appeared as she ripped at the skin, swelling until it was heavy enough to trickle down the edge of her thumb.
‘Jesus, Martha, that’s disgusting. Stop it!’ said Simon.
She shoved her hands down into her lap and looked back up at him. She so desperately wanted some support from this man. Why couldn’t he understand the pressure she’d been under? ‘You have no idea how hard all this has been,’ she said, glaring at him.
It was crazy she hadn’t told him what had been going on. But their whole relationship was crazy at the moment. They were still hardly speaking and an angry part of her had been glad to keep him out of the loop. In the last couple of weeks, her life had changed dramatically, but he’d been offhand, curt and distant. She knew things had been difficult at work – didn’t she know it, that was all he seemed interested in talking about – but his behaviour had been cruel. She had needed Simon, but he hadn’t been there for her.
‘Of course I know how hard it’s been!’ he said. ‘Losing a parent is dreadful. Don’t make me out to be an insensitive monster.’
‘It’s not just that,’ snapped Martha. ‘God, if that was the only thing I’d had to deal with, it would be a breeze. There have been other problems.’
‘What problems?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’
They were sitting in the kitchen, the breakfast bar a physical barrier between them; the emotional barrier invisible, but so much more insurmountable.
‘We found something at Mum’s,’ she said. She couldn’t look at him, instead she stared back down at her hands, where the blood which had bubbled out from beside the thumbnail, was now smeared across the skin. ‘She wrote a note, adding a codicil to her will leaving her house to Alice.’
There was silence; she looked up and saw incomprehension on his face. ‘Who the hell’s Alice?’
‘The dog walker!’
He clearly still didn’t understand.
‘She’s a girl who’s been coming in to walk Nipper for the last year or so,’ she said. You would know that, she was tempted to add, if you ever listened to anything I said. ‘They’d obviously grown very close. So, Mum decided to leave her the bungalow.’
‘Jesus, that’s appalling!’ Simon looked as shocked as he sounded. ‘That place should go to you and Patrick, as her children. Did you know about this beforehand?’
Martha shook her head.
‘So, when did you find out?’
‘The day she died, when I met Patrick there. We found a note.’
‘But…’ he was now looking confused. ‘Can she do that? Didn’t you go to the solicitors? What happened there?’
‘The solicitor just had her original will,’ said Martha. ‘In which she’d left everything to me and Patrick.’
He stared at her across the breakfast bar.
‘We destroyed the note,’ whispered Martha. She knew she should have started the sentence with ‘I’ not ‘We’.
‘My God,’ said Simon. ‘So, no one else knows about this, except you and Patrick?’
She nodded.
‘Which means the original will stands?’
She nodded again. ‘It’s awful isn’t it, what we’ve done? I know it’s terrible, Simon. I know we should have respected her wishes and shown the note to the solicitor. Patrick said it wasn’t a legal document because it hadn’t been witnessed, but morally we should have disclosed it and done what Mum wanted.’
Simon got up and walked across to the big sliding glass doors leading onto the garden. He stood looking out, his arms crossed in front of him.
‘If we’d done that,’ Martha said, ‘Alice would have inherited the house and we would have got Mum’s savings and investments, which don’t amount to much. Patrick says we would be the ones liable for Inheritance Tax, not Alice, so we would have ended up getting virtually nothing.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about all this?’ he turned towards her.
She glared back at him. ‘I would have done, if you’d shown the slightest interest in what was happening. In case you haven’t noticed, Simon, I’ve been having a really shitty time, with Mum being in hospital, then dying so suddenly. It’s been so stressful and, and… shocking. I wanted to keep everything stable here for Joe, but I was rushing backwards and forwards…’
She’d been bottling up this anger and frustration for weeks: but now she’d started speaking, she could hardly keep up with the words as they came out of her mouth.
‘And you’ve done fuck-all to help. Yes, I know you’ve taken time off work to collect Joe and you’ve been here with him on your own when I was in Surrey. Big bloody deal. That’s your job; you’re his father. But you’ve hardly spoken to me, or asked how I am. You haven’t been interested in the funeral or any of the arrangements I’ve been making. I texted to ask what you thought about that reading, the other day. You didn’t reply. You haven’t even given me a bloody hug.’
Her voice broke on the last word, and she put her face into her hands and started to cry.
She felt his arm go around her and angrily shook it off, lifting her head from her hands and pulling herself round to face him. ‘Stop it,’ she yelled. ‘Don’t try to pretend you care.’
‘Martha!’
‘No! Get away from me! I hate you, Simon.’
She’d never said anything like that in her life. To anyone. She was shocked at the venom coming out of her mouth. It wasn’t true, of course she didn’t hate him. But he had been making everything so difficult, and the confusion and anger and hurt flooding through her were overwhelming. And now she’d said the words, she didn’t know how to take them back again.
He put out his hands again and grabbed her shoulders. ‘Martha, listen to me. I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry. I know I’ve been a shit. I’ve just had so much on at work recently and you’ve seemed quite distant.’
He was doing it again: throwing it all back at her. It was her fault because she’d been distant! She broke away, beating at his arms with her hands, not caring that she was lashing out like an animal; she wanted to batter and bruise his skin, not just to punish him but to leave physical evidence of her own misery. But when he grabbed her for the third time, she was suddenly dog-tired, as if there was no more fight left in her. She allowed herself to be pulled into his arms and laid her head against his shoulder, feeling the tears soak into the material of his shirt, her breath coming in jags as she cried. The smell of him was so familiar. Not just the fabric conditioner she always used or the shampoo they shared, but the underlying scent of his skin, the very essence of him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, his voice echoing as she leant against his chest. ‘I know I haven’t been here for you.’
