Chapter Thirty-Five
‘Can you believe the outright nerve of the woman? She’s only cooking his favourite meals and forcing him to be like a bloody father to Finlay!
And if she thinks for one minute I’m going to stand by and let her steal Ben from right under my nose, just like she’s stolen Emily, she’d better think again! ’
There was a resounding silence in Cassie’s ear and she was on the verge of asking if her mother was still there, when, and with infuriating predictability, her mother said, ‘Darling, are you sure you’re not letting your … ’
‘Go on, Mum,’ Cassie said when her mother’s voice tailed off, ‘say it, don’t hold back as though I’m going to fall apart at any implied criticism.’
‘It’s not a criticism, merely an observation. A concern.’
‘Go ahead then, just say it. What’s your concern, that I’m allowing my insecurities to get the better of me, that I’m so scared of losing Ben that I see danger in every woman who comes onto his radar? That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?’
‘Of course I don’t think that, don’t be silly.’
‘What then?’ demanded Cassie, childish defensiveness crackling like static through her at being called silly. What was silly worrying about the threat of another woman making a move on your partner?
The man in front of her in the self-service checkout queue turned around to look at her.
She gave him a ferocious death-stare and indicated none too politely that one of the self-service tills was now free.
He made a beeline for it, leaving her to realise that she had turned into one of those hateful people who conducted overly loud discussions on their mobiles while forcing anyone within range to hear what was being said.
Tuning back into what her mother was saying, Cassie heard: ‘It’s nothing but pre-wedding jitters you’re experiencing, every bride feels anxious before their big day.’
Cassie had to admire her mother’s nerve at resorting to that tried and tested old cookie, but she wasn’t falling for it.
They both knew that Cassie had huge trust issues and doubts could so easily railroad her from the path of rational thought.
She knew all that, she knew it with every fibre of her being, but she just couldn’t stop herself from imagining the worst. And right now, the worst was a she-wolf in designer sheep’s clothing currently living in the hen coop.
That was probably a muddle of a metaphor, but Cassie knew what she meant.
‘We haven’t even set a firm date for the wedding,’ she said, ‘so why would I be experiencing pre-wedding nerves?’ This was another area of annoyance and concern for Cassie.
She was all for setting a date and making plans, but recently when Cassie had raised the subject, Emily had responded with an expression of distilled condemnation.
‘Really?’ she’d said. ‘You want to talk about that when we’ve only just had Dad’s funeral?’
‘She’s like an evil genius,’ Cassie had whispered to Ben in bed that night. ‘She turns everything I say into a weapon against me. And it’s more than ten days since the funeral, so not just after. She seems to think that because Drew is dead life has to stop for everyone, especially us!’
As soon as Drew’s body had been released following the lengthy process of effectively rubber-stamping that he was actually dead, his funeral could then go ahead. Emily had been adamant that Cassie wasn’t to attend the service at the crematorium.
‘It would be hypocritical of you to be there,’ she’d asserted, ‘and you’d only be doing it to look good, like you were trying to do the right thing. And that would stink.’
While it was true that Cassie was relieved that she didn’t have to go through with the charade, she was miffed that she was being told what she could and could not do by her daughter.
She had tried making a case for being at the crematorium to support Emily, but had been rewarded with an epic roll of the girl’s eyes.
Ben had been his usual accepting self, of course he had, and had proposed they hold fire for a little longer. ‘We’ve waited this long to marry, what are a few more weeks?’ he’d said.
Just how many more weeks, though? Cassie had privately questioned.
At the rate they were going, Rosalyn and her son were never going to leave and move into a place of their own.
Every day that went by, and now that Rosalyn was no longer hiding under the duvet, the apartment felt more and more claustrophobic.
Was it so very bad of her that Cassie wanted her lovely home back? Surely that wasn’t unreasonable?
‘Date or no date,’ her mother said, hauling Cassie back up from the darkest depths of her thoughts, ‘it’s a big step for you, isn’t it, so it’s only natural that you might be worrying, you know, subconsciously?’
‘Yes, you’re probably right, Mum,’ Cassie said tiredly. Sometimes it was easier to give in and agree with her mother.
Plonking her basket of shopping on a self-service till that was now free, and trying not to resent the fact that she was doing a job she wasn’t paid to do, she began scanning the items with one hand while holding her mobile to her ear and listening to her mother saying it was ages since she and Dad had seen her.
‘It’s not that long, Mum,’ Cassie said.
‘It feels like it. Anyway, why don’t you and Ben, and Emily, come for lunch on Sunday? Maybe your sister and Simon and the children could come too if they’re free. It might be just what you need, a nice family get-together. Especially Emily at this tricky time for her.’
‘That’s a lovely idea, Mum,’ Cassie said, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised if Emily says something like it wouldn’t be fair to leave Rosalyn and Finlay on their own.’ Cassie could just imagine Emily saying, Oh, that’s right, rub it in for Rosalyn that she doesn’t have any family!
‘Well, I suppose we could always—’
Cassie nearly dropped the bottle of wine she had just scanned. ‘No, Mum!’ she hissed. ‘We are not including them into what you’ve just referred to as a family lunch. They are not family.’
‘But Emily thinks of little Finlay that way, doesn’t she? And technically he is.’
Since when had Drew and Rosalyn’s son become Little Finlay in her mother’s head? Cassie wanted to ask, but wisely didn’t.
Her shopping now bagged and paid for, Cassie ended the call and set off for her car with her mother’s last words reverberating inside her head.
‘Try talking to Rosalyn, it’s probably what you both need, a proper clearing-of-the-air conversation. It can’t be easy for her, accepting charity from Drew’s first wife. Imagine yourself in her shoes.’
Yeah right, thanks for that, Mum, thought Cassie, like I want to spend a second of my time in that woman’s shoes!
She’d made it as far as the sliding doors to go out into the rain and chilly darkness, but as though she needed to prove to herself that she really wasn’t such a terrible person, she stopped to buy a poppy from the man and woman sitting behind a table festooned with poppies and Royal British Legion leaflets.
Resting her shopping on the floor at her feet so she could dig out her debit card, she realised that the man behind the table was the one who had been on the receiving end of her death stare.
‘I’ll have a poppy, please,’ she said, and then as if trying to make a good impression, added, ‘second thoughts, make it two of the bigger ones.’ Now she just sounded flashy!
Waving her card over the payment machine, she glanced at the man, guessing he was about the same age as her parents.
Which compounded her shame, that and the medals pinned to his jacket.
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ she said. ‘I’m not normally like that, so rude to people.’
He acknowledged her apology with a slight dip of his head. ‘We all have bad days,’ he said. ‘I hope yours gets better.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling suitably chastened.
Outside it was chucking it down and as she dashed to where she’d parked her car, she wondered what the man’s perspective on a bad day was compared to hers.
He’d probably fought in a war somewhere.
He was too old for Iraq or Afghanistan, she decided, so maybe he’d been in the Falklands?
That’s where an uncle of Ben’s had served when he’d been in the navy.
He never spoke about what he had seen or done but Cassie knew Ben’s family was very proud of him.
She drove out of the supermarket car park and joining the traffic in the glow of car lights she headed for home, her mood as dark as the November night sky. She had to do better. She had to change the narrative of her thoughts.
But how? How could she rid herself of the fear that she could lose what meant most in the world to her: Emily and Ben.
If she wasn’t careful, she was in serious danger of pushing them both away.
Not that Ben had shown the slightest inkling of dissatisfaction with her or their relationship.
Quite the contrary. He was as loving as he’d always been.
She sighed heavily, and not in the right frame of mind to listen to the latest true crime podcast she’d started late last night when she couldn’t sleep, she wondered how Ben was getting on.
He was in Lucerne attending a symposium on genetics and today he was giving a keynote speech about leukaemia, specifically regarding children.
He was easily the cleverest person she knew and her awe of his intelligence together with her pride for the work he did were two of the many reasons she loved him.