52

Katie pulled up a chair.

“We’re going to hire the long marquee.” Mum put her glasses on and opened the catalog. “It’ll fit. Just. But the pegs will have to go in the flower border. Now…” She extracted an A4 sheet showing the floor plan of the tent. “For the top table we can go round or oblong. It’s eight per table and a maximum of twelve tables which makes-”

“Ninety-six,” said Katie.

“-including the top table. Did you bring your list of guests?”

Katie hadn’t.

“Honestly, Katie, I can’t do this all by myself.”

“It’s been a little hectic recently.”

She should have told Mum about Ray. But she couldn’t stand the idea of Mum being smug about it. Handling Dad was difficult enough. And by the time they were discussing rich chocolate mousse versus tiramisu it was too late.

She wrote a guest list off the top of her head. If she missed an aunt, Ray could bloody well explain himself. Assuming the wedding happened. Oh well, she’d deal with that eventuality another time.

“I told you Jamie might be bringing someone, didn’t I,” said Mum.

“His name’s Tony, Mum.”

“Sorry. I was just…You know, I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.”

“They’ve been together for longer than me and Ray.”

“And you’ve met him,” said Mum.

“You mean, will Dad be able to cope?”

“I mean, is he nice?”

“I’ve only met him once.”

“And…?” asked Mum.

“Well, if the leather shorts and the blond fun wig are anything to goby…”

“You are teasing me, aren’t you.”

“I am.”

Mum looked suddenly serious. “I just want you to be happy. Both of you. You’re still my children.”

Katie took Mum’s hand. “Jamie is sensible. He’ll probably choose a better man than either of us.”

Mum looked even more serious and Katie wondered whether she’d overstepped the mark a little.

“You are happy with Ray, aren’t you?” asked Mum.

“Yes, Mum, I’m happy with Ray.”

“Good.” Her mother readjusted her glasses. “Now. Flowers.”

After an hour or so, they heard footsteps and Katie turned round to see Jacob grinning in the doorway, his trousers and nappy dragging from one leg.

“I did a poo. I did it…I did it in the toilet. All on my own.”

Katie scanned the perfect beige carpet for brown chunks. “Well done you.” She got up and walked over. “But you really should have given me a shout first.”

“Grandpa said he didn’t want to wipe my bottom.”

After she’d put Jacob to bed Katie came downstairs to find Mum pouring two glasses of wine and saying, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Katie took the wine, hoped it was something trivial and the pair of them went through to the living room.

“I know you’ve got a lot to think about at the moment and I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you.” Mum sat down and took an uncharacteristically large gulp of wine. “But you’re the only person who really understands.”

“OK…” said Katie, gingerly.

“Over the last six months…” Mum put her hands together as if she was about to pray. “Over the last six months I’ve been seeing someone.”

Mum said the phrase “seeing someone” very carefully, as if it were French.

“I know,” said Katie, who really, really, really did not want to be talking about this.

“No, I don’t think you do,” said Mum, “I mean…I’ve been seeing another man.” She paused and said, “A man who is not your father,” just to make it absolutely clear.

“I know,” Katie said again. “It’s David Symmonds, isn’t it. The chap who used to work with Dad.”

“How on earth did you…?” Mum gripped the arm of the sofa.

It was briefly rather fun, having Mum on the back foot. And then it wasn’t, because her mother looked terrified.

“Well…” Katie cast her mind back. “You said you’d met him in the shop. He’s separated from his wife. He’s an attractive man. For his age. You said you’d met him again. You started buying expensive clothes. And you were…you were holding yourself in a different way. It seemed pretty clear to me that you were…” She let the sentence dangle.

Mum was still gripping the arm of the sofa. “Do you think your father knows?”

“Has he said anything?”

“No.”

“Then I think you’re safe,” said Katie.

“But if you noticed…”

“Girl radar,” said Katie.

Girl radar? It sounded wrong as soon as it came out of her mouth. But Mum was relaxing visibly.

“It’s OK, Mum,” said Katie, “I’m not going to give you a hard time.”

Was it OK? Katie wasn’t sure. It looked a bit different now it was out in the open. So long as Mum didn’t want sex tips.

“Except it’s not OK,” said Mum, plowing doggedly on.

For a short, fuddled moment Katie wondered if Mum was pregnant. “Why not?”

She examined the varnish on her nails. “David has asked me to leave your father.”

“Ah.” Katie stared into the wobbly orange light coming from the fake coal fire and remembered Jamie, years ago, taking it apart to examine the little metal propellers turned by the hot air coming off the bulbs.

“Actually,” said Mum, “that’s unfair to David. He said he wants me to come and live with him. But he understands that I might not want to. That it might not be possible.”

Now Katie was on the back foot.

“He doesn’t want to rush me. And he’s happy for things to stay as they are. He just wants…He wants to spend more time with me. And I want to spend more time with him. But it’s very, very difficult. As you can imagine.”

God, he smoked those weird ladies’ cigars, didn’t he. “What about Dad?”

“Well, yes, there is that, too,” said Mum.

“He’s in the middle of having a nervous breakdown.”

“He’s certainly not very well.”

“He can’t leave the bedroom.”

“Actually, he does come down occasionally,” said Mum. “To make tea and go to the video shop.”

Katie said, quietly but firmly, “You can’t leave Dad. Not at the moment. Not while he’s like this.”

Katie had never stood up for Dad before. She felt oddly noble and grown up, putting her prejudices to one side.

“I’m not planning to leave your father,” said Mum. “I just wanted…I just wanted to tell you.” She leaned over and took Katie’s hand for a few moments. “Thank you. I feel better for having got it off my chest.”

They sat in silence. The orange light flickered under the plastic coals and Katie heard a distant burst of Hollywood gunfire from upstairs.

Mum eased herself off the sofa. “I’d better go and see if he needs anything.”

Katie sat for several minutes, staring at the foxhunting print on the far wall. The storm over the hill. The lopsided farm dog. The fallen rider who, she could see now, was about to be crushed by the hooves of the horses jumping the hedge behind him.

She’d seen it every day for eighteen years and never really looked at it.

She poured herself another glass of wine.

The frightening thing was how alike they were. She and Mum. Putting the thing with David to one side for the moment. Putting the thing with Ray to one side for the moment.

Mum was in love.

She replayed the words in her head and knew that she should feel moved. But what did she feel? Only sadness for that fallen rider whose approaching death she’d never seen before.

She was crying.

God, she missed Ray.