Same Time Next Week

Chapter 50

Bradley rang Amanda first thing on the Sunday morning.

‘Kerry and I have been talking and we have decided that we must adhere to mother’s wishes,’ he said. ‘There will be no funeral.’

Amanda wasn’t sure if it was his callousness, or that Kerry should have any opinion on it before herself, or the stupid, slow way he spoke that was angering her more. She knew he wouldn’t budge; he was having his little moment of power, but if she screamed at him he’d use that to manipulate her: I was open to reason but, alas … and she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

‘Which undertaker’s is she at?’ asked Amanda, doing everything she could to keep her temper on a leash. ‘I’d like to at least go and sit with her.’

‘Of course,’ he said, as if granting her a favour. ‘She’s with Mr Hyde.’

How appropriate.

‘Thank you,’ she forced herself to say. She had nothing to thank him for but she wouldn’t rip into him yet. Not before she was fully armed.

‘Contrary to what you may believe, Amanda, Mother was of sound mind when she wrote her will.’

Lying arse. ‘I’m sure she was.’

‘I am going to email you the full copy. I didn’t want you to be upset at what she had left you. I did point out that it wasn’t very fair to leave you so much less than me. I said it would cause trouble.’

I’ll bet you did.

She willed herself to stay calm.

‘It was her money to do with as she wished, Bradley.’

‘I might not agree with it but I intend to follow it to the letter, for her.’

‘That’s very honourable of you.’ She hoped she’d kept the sarcasm out of her voice, but she wouldn’t have put her life savings on it.

‘I wasn’t sure if you were aware, Amanda, but Mother sold the house earlier this year to one of those home reversion companies. I had no idea that’s where she was getting the money from to loan to us for our business.’

He could have shoved a pound of butter in his mouth and it wouldn’t have melted.

‘No, I didn’t know. They give far less than the market value. She probably threw away over a hundred grand. How very stupid of her.’ How very stupid of you.

‘I’d have stopped her if only I’d known. Not that it matters now of course.’

She wanted to shake him by the neck until both sets of those horrendous teeth had fallen out of their gummy holdings.

‘No, it doesn’t matter now.’

‘Is there anything you’d like from the house? Any souvenirs?’

There wasn’t. And unless it was something of no monetary value, she wasn’t likely to get it anyway. She didn’t want her mother’s wedding ring, as a daughter might ask for, because it was the ring pervy Arnold gave her. And she didn’t want to hear Bradley tell her that he’d already given that to Kerry. No, there was nothing in that house she wanted other than distance from anything connected with it.

‘No, thank you.’

‘The company have given us three weeks to clear the house before they take full possession,’ said Bradley and Amanda wondered if he meant by that, that she was the one expected to order skips, empty cupboards, ferry clothes to charity shops. He had about as much chance of that happening as Barbara Broccoli ringing him up and asking him to be the new James Bond. She left a silence instead of replying to him, which eventually he filled with words covered in his best crawling Bradley honey.

‘Just one thing before I go: did Mother say anything about an old tin to you? She mentioned it a couple of months ago. It has my father’s Timex watch in it and a few old letters he’d written her. Just sentimental things, of neither use nor interest to anyone but me. She’d forgotten where she’d put it, but wanted me to have it.’

So it was the tin he was hunting for when she’d seen him snooping around the house. He’d taken her measured responses at face value; concluded from them that his sister had believed everything he said and would be reasonable, compliant, honourable. What a despicable, odious, fatheaded plank.

Amanda pretended to ruminate.

‘Erm… hmm… No idea about that. Do you want me to have a look for you when I go up to Mum’s? I need to pick some clothes for her to wear.’

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Bradley. ‘I’ve had to change the locks anyway, I lost the front door key and was forced to take precautions. Kerry picked something for her.’

Amanda stuck her nails in her palm to stop her reacting. He really was a piece of crap.

‘Okay, goodbye then. Talk later.’

Then she pressed disconnect before she either broke down or pulled up Google to find a hitman who specalised in slow, painful deaths.

Mel slept better than she thought she would. She got up, went for a newspaper and sat at the dining table trying to read it and not let her thoughts ping off to what was going on in Steve’s head this morning. What was going on in her head was more important, said an inward voice that strangely had a Mancunian male accent.

She pulled a notebook out of the drawer and made two columns on a page, one headed: REASONS TO SAVE , the other: REASONS TO END .

It was easier to save their relationship, especially in their mid-fifties. They were looking forward to a retirement together and that was on the near horizon if they wanted it to be. Company: Someone to go out with and stay in with. Everything she wrote down, she noticed immediately, was a reason for not being alone, not for staying with Steve.

Reasons to end: not as many, but it was telling how they outweighed everything on the other list. He hadn’t cheated because he had a rush of mid-life hormones, some sort of ‘male menopause’ that forced his hand, he’d chosen to do it. Another: the lack of respect he’d shown to her and their marriage vows. She would always be waiting for the mended vase to leak. She didn’t need any more reasons.

She used to scoff at people who said love wasn’t always enough , because what else was more important? Well, she’d just had a hard lesson in that, because love was worthless without trust and respect.

She was under no illusions, she’d hurt for a long time, but she’d heal. And sleeping with Pat wasn’t the reason she was thinking like this. This wasn’t a Hallmark film where the postman turned up and lived happily ever after with her; she probably wouldn’t ever see him again unless he had to cover for his mate’s round and had a parcel for her. But he’d had his part to play in why she felt like this. If she hadn’t met him, she might not have realised she deserved better.

Steve turned up at three with a sponged-off gravy stain down his top because he wouldn’t have come round before his mother’s big Sunday roast. His brother would have been there as well as his parents and no doubt her name would have been chewed over as much as the beef.

It wouldn’t have crossed his mind that she really wouldn’t want him. He’d presume that by now, she’d had her hissy fit of temper, said her piece and got it out of her system.

She told him that there was no way back for them. When he walked out on her to go to another woman, he’d taken her trust and love and respect with him, on a single and not a return ticket.

‘I can’t believe you are going to throw away thirty years of marriage for a stupid fling,’ he said. And she replied:

‘I didn’t, Steve. You did.’