Chapter 23
Cassie arrived home to find the apartment in darkness. That’s odd, she thought and pushed open the door to the sitting room, where she saw Ramona lying on the sofa, her face barely illuminated by her phone. She switched on the wall lights and was greeted by the sight of the day’s dishes. Obviously, she’d barely moved. That wasn’t like Ramona.
‘Hey, I’ve brought your pastrami roll, though I was tempted to scoff it myself.’
She’d anticipated a quip but Ramona was silent. Her white-blonde hair lay flat on her head, and her face, normally made-up to meet the world, was pale and scrubbed. She looked almost unrecognisable. It wasn’t that she looked bad – just different, younger. Cassie couldn’t help wondering how many people ever saw behind the mask. She sat by the sofa and gently asked, ‘Hey, how’re you doing?’
Ramona shrugged but didn’t reply.
‘Is something wrong?’ She hardly needed to ask. Cassie could see from the set of her jaw that Ramona was fighting to hold back tears. She pulled a tissue from the box and handed it to her.
‘I don’t want to pry but .?.?. you can tell me .?.?. if you want.’
‘I can’t do it anymore .?.?.’ She broke down and sobbed.
Cassie shifted to the side of the sofa and hugged her, as Ramona’s bony frame shuddered. For all her swagger and uber-sophistication, inside she was little more than a kid, out in the world on her own.
‘Sssh .?.?. It’s OK,’ Cassie said, rubbing the girl’s back like you would an inconsolable child, for whom words have no meaning beyond the sounds. ‘Let it all out.’
‘In that house, when that guy caught me, I thought he was going to kill me. I really thought I was going to die there.’
‘I know. But you didn’t. You’re here now and you’re safe.’
‘And then it hit me: who was even going to care? My mom never wanted me .?.?.’
‘I’m sure that’s not really true.’
‘Oh, you’d better believe it. You can’t imagine it, because things aren’t like that for you. She was seventeen when I was born. So, poor Grandma got stuck with me. She was delighted. Not .’
‘Your grandma wasn’t maternal?’
‘Are you kidding? Being stuck with me really cramped her socialite lifestyle. I don’t blame her, she never asked for it.’
Cassie didn’t know what to say, so she just sat, holding Ramona’s hand.
‘And I wonder why I’m such an exhibitionist, and so .?.?. fucking stupid sometimes. I get it. I keep trying to matter.’
‘We’re all trying to matter.’
‘I’ve been posting about what happened, and people were commenting and sending love, blah-blah, but .?.?.’
‘They mean well, they just don’t know the real you, do they?’
Ramona shrugged. ‘If I stopped posting tomorrow, they’d just scroll on down to the next face. I’m just a .?.?. thing .?.?. I’m content. I’m not real.’
‘That’s not true. You’re really important to those people, a lot more than you’re giving yourself credit for. And you’re real to me. You’re real to Mam. By the way, she’s coming to see you and bringing a bedjacket to keep your shoulders warm, she says.’
Ramona gave a throaty laugh. ‘You’re kidding me, that’s so cute. Does it have feathers round the neck and cuffs like Doris Day in Pillow Talk , with Rock Hudson? “What a marvellous-looking man.” That’s one of my grandma’s all-time favourites.’
‘I think it might be pink crochet.’
‘I could make it work.’
They both laughed, feeling a bit better.
‘Is this the moment for gin and tonic? I bought two of those little tins.’
Cassie took two glasses out of the cabinet and filled them with ice.
‘God, these things are so fucking weak,’ commented Ramona, unimpressed. ‘What am I going to do, Cass? I’ve wrenched my stupid shoulder and I can’t dance like this. Everything I do depends on my body. Without my act, who am I?’
‘You’re plenty – you’re you.’
Ramona was silent. ‘Cassie, I’m afraid that just being myself isn’t good enough. And I can’t do anything else.’
Cassie felt at a loss – what was she supposed to say?
‘You can be anything. OK, maybe not in this precise moment, but don’t make my mistake. I’m only realising now that my value isn’t just from one thing, or what other people think of me. And you’re right: at the end of the day, nobody really does give a damn apart from the people who love you.’
‘I’ve always been kinda short on those.’
‘Well, not anymore. And if you can make your living as a pole dancer, I’d say there’s not much you can’t do.’
‘I’m not going to overanalyse that, but thank you.’
‘It’ll be all right. I promise.’
‘Here’s to being a nobody.’ Ramona drained the last of her gin and tonic.
‘Now you’re talking.’
*?*?*
Later that evening, Cassie was curled up on her favourite chair by the window, sipping a mug of tea and contemplating the conversation she’d had with Mam. The prospect of phoning Maxine felt like a grey cloud hanging in front of her, but Mam was right, she really couldn’t leave it much longer.
She scrolled down to the number she hadn’t used in years, that she’d even thought about deleting more than once.
Don’t think about it, she scolded herself. Maxine probably won’t even pick up. She’ll be ferrying a team of kids in her bungalow-sized SUV to an ice-hockey game or something. Cassie allowed the phone to ring eight or nine times before knocking it off in relief.
Look, she’d been brave, she’d phoned, she’d done her bit, fair and square. Now it was up to her sister. The wedding wasn’t till July, there was still time .?.?. just about. It was a cop-out and secretly she knew it, but that was as much as she could face tonight.
*?*?*
Rehearsals were in full swing. Marisha had marked out the floor with coloured tape, ‘like the professionals do’, and was constantly shouting directions which meant bog-all to any of the children.
God, with her grandiosity you’d think she was directing Hamilton on Broadway, but Marisha was the diva of 4B and revelling in her position.
Marisha pointed at each character in turn and read the line out for them to repeat with exactly the same intonation. As a result, all the actors parroted their lines with the same, God-awful, stilted delivery. The other children shuffled around, trying to manage their frustration, rotating on one toe or picking their noses.
‘Villagers, stop fidgeting!! Now, what is the most important thing in our play?’
Silence.
‘That the audience, your mums and dads, can hear every word and that they go home knowing exactly what happened. Clarity. Well, in this show, children, we’ll all be clear as a bell.’
As though on cue, there was a knock on the door and Roger Newcombe’s head appeared. Cassie remembered the first time he’d barged into her classroom, his face like an angry lightbulb. This time he couldn’t have been more different, his tone mild and solicitous, although even from across the room, Cassie could spot the spaghetti sauce from lunch on his lapel.
‘Ah, Marie, I’m just checking in to see how you’re doing with the drama. Well, I must say this all looks very organised .?.?. very professional. Are you enjoying it, boys and girls?’
‘Yeeeeaaaaah,’ they droned.
What the feck else could they say? Marisha glowed as he went on, ‘Well, it’s marvellous to see all this creativity in the school.’
Jeez, she’d seen more creativity spray-painted on a bus shelter.
‘And I see you’re ably assisted too.’ He nodded in Cassie’s direction.
She could’ve puked. Was anything worth this humiliation? Feck salary or security! The old Cassie had always stuck to her dreams – they mightn’t have been great dreams, or lucrative dreams, but they were hers. Feck it. She was going to hand in her notice. Mam would be disappointed, of course, and even lovely Phil would be disappointed, which felt bad, but she couldn’t let that stop her.
*?*?*
By lunchtime, she was still shaking with fury. Maggie sat down opposite her, as they took out their tubs of salad.
‘Are you OK? How’s the famous play going?’
‘Shite. Sorry, that just came out.’
‘That bad?’
She nodded, realising in horror that she was close to tears.
‘I can imagine, if you’ve been a professional in that world all your life .?.?.’
‘It’s awful. It sounds mad but it’s like she’s enjoying sticking it to me. Am I imagining it?’
Maggie shook her head. ‘I didn’t like to say, and it wasn’t my business, but that’s why the last SNA left. It was because she couldn’t stand it.’
‘Thanks for telling me that, really, at least it’s not just me.’
Maggie glanced around to make sure that nobody was listening. Behind her, at another table, Cassie glimpsed Marisha, who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, nibbling a banana and sipping an Actimel.
‘She’s really, really charming to anyone her level or higher, but anyone less important .?.?.’ Maggie didn’t need to finish that sentence – they both knew how Marisha treated those she perceived as inferior.
Cassie couldn’t help wondering where Finn featured on that scale.
*?*?*
When Cassie pushed open the door into the apartment at the end of a long day, instead of the previous hush, she was met with high hilarity. Mam was sitting on the armchair, holding forth about her wedding plans, while Louise was perched on the end of the sofa, now looking visibly pregnant. God, pregnant women were following her everywhere, Cassie thought, but then quickly dismissed that and hugged Louise warmly, genuinely delighted to see her.
Mam was on top form. ‘Go on, Ramona, try it on. I think pink is a great colour on you, it throws light on your face.’ She was tactful enough not to mention the heavy bruising across her forehead and one cheek that was morphing from green to brown. Ramona dutifully slipped into the crocheted bedjacket, looking so incongruous that Cassie could barely contain her giggles.
‘What do you think?’
‘It shows a whole other side of you, Ramona,’ observed Louise with her usual tact.
‘It’s a little old-fashioned but these things come back in, sure, you see it every day,’ said Mam optimistically.
‘That is one hundred per cent true,’ agreed Louise, which made Mam glow.
‘So, tell us all about this wedding.’ Louise had a marvellous way with mothers, and Cassie dreaded being compared to her pretty friend, who seemed to have achieved everything Mam would wish for in a daughter.
‘We’re having a wedding arch and a marquee in the garden. When it’s not your first time, we-ell, you want to keep things simple.’
This was a complete fantasy. ‘Mam’ and ‘simple’ inhabited two totally separate universes.
‘So .?.?. spill the beans, what’s your dress like, Iris?’ said Ramona.
Mam lit up. ‘Secret, it’s a secret, and so are the bridesmaids’ dresses, if somebody would actually get it together and get them organised.’
Cassie cringed. ‘I’ll talk to you about that later,’ she muttered.
Shortly afterwards, Louise excused herself on the pretext of having to make her husband’s dinner, even though Cassie knew she was likely going home to an empty house. Mam happily agreed to go down in the lift with her.
Once the door closed behind them, Cassie and Ramona looked at each other.
‘You’re so lucky. Your mom is great.’
‘Maybe. She lives in her own little version of reality, and other people just seem to go along with it. Maybe that’s the secret to a happy life.’
‘How’s the job?’
‘Unspeakably shit. I’ve decided to leave on Friday, so that’ll be something to celebrate.’
‘Attagirl, no job’s worth that. It’ll all work out, you’ll see.’ They smiled bravely at each other.
*?*?*
That night, in bed, she texted Finn.
Can’t wait to see u. Need to talk. Had enough of that poxy school. Leaving on Friday.
Brave girl, proud of u wish I was with you now.
Me too. Miss you.
Night night
?
She clicked off her phone and turned over. Still, the feeling of emptiness stayed with her. Was this what was in store for her? Nights alone, longing for their next snatched moment together.
*?*?*
Next morning Cassie drove into school, switched off the engine of her car and took a deep breath. What more could Marisha do to her? Nothing. She couldn’t touch her anymore. Cassie felt liberated. In fact, she felt a lightness she hadn’t for weeks. Helen, the secretary, was met with a Colgate smile and a cheery hello.
The classroom was empty. Relax, she told herself, just make the most of the next two days and then drop into Roger Newcombe on Friday afternoon and tell him you’re leaving. She felt a bit guilty about that, because she did love the kids and he was pretty desperate but .?.?. Sorry, not her problem.
Just then, Marisha shuffled in, looking strikingly different from her usual glamorous self.
‘Cassie, love, would you mind going out and picking up the kids? That’d be great,’ she said in a tone normally reserved for people she liked, which was odd.
The children followed Cassie back in, chirping and chatting, buzzing with the bliss of summer holidays just over the horizon. She couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret at the thought of leaving.
Marisha was sitting at the desk, looking washed-out, and suggested that everyone open their books for some quiet reading. ‘We’ll come back to the show this afternoon,’ she promised in a lacklustre voice.
At lunchtime Marisha, who normally snapped her books shut and hurried out the door, remained slumped at her big desk with the excuse that she’d some marking to do and would stay in the empty classroom for lunch. Cassie was tempted to engage her in conversation but thought better of it.
The odd atmosphere continued throughout afternoon rehearsals when Martin, the giant, shifted awkwardly on his too-big feet and tried to parrot the lines Marisha was feeding him. It was obvious to Cassie that the poor child was struggling to remember each line he was being fed, let alone remember them all at once for the performance. He wasn’t the only one who was struggling: Marisha seemed to be dragging herself through the rehearsal and at 2.25 p.m. she seemed to stagger slightly. Cassie jumped forward to catch her, and a couple of the girls squeaked with alarm.
‘Get a chair for Miss Upton, quick, Rowley.’
‘I’m fine, honestly, don’t make a fuss, there’s no need,’ she breathed, though she looked quite grey. Cassie was pouring her a glass of water when, mercifully, the bell for the end of school blasted outside the door and the children scrambled for their bags. Five minutes later the classroom was empty, apart from a couple of floating bits of paper.
‘Marisha, would you like me to call somebody to come and collect you?’
Even as she said it, Cassie’s heart lurched. What if she named Finn as her person? She could, easily – it was the most obvious thing in the world.
‘No, no, thank you, Cassie, I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m not trying to be rude, but you look bloody awful.’
Surprisingly, Marisha smiled. ‘That sounds about how I feel.’
There was something off about her demeanour; it was only then that Cassie realised she was straining to stop herself from crying.
‘Marisha, are you OK? Sorry, stupid question. What’s going on? Is there any way I can help?’
‘You’re very kind, even though I’ve been such a bitch to you.’
Wow, she hadn’t expected that. One thing Cassie had learned about Marisha was that nothing she ever said was without purpose. She leaned back and breathed deeply. ‘That’s a bit better. I thought for a moment back there I was going to be sick.’
‘Nightmare. You sip your water and I’ll open another window.’
Marisha smiled weakly.
‘You’ve probably picked up a gastric bug from the kids. I don’t know how I’ve escaped so far.’
‘That’s not it.’ There was an edge to her tone.
For a moment Cassie was alarmed. Could she be hinting at a serious illness?
‘Cassie, can I trust you?’
Cassie nodded.
‘You see, sometimes I think that when a person’s made a bit of a mess of their life – and you won’t be offended if I say that to you – it makes it easier to confide in them because they mightn’t judge you so harshly.’
Cassie nodded mutely. There was simply no answer to that.
‘I’m pregnant.’
Oh. My. Jesus. She’d been so wrong. She’d actually thought there was nothing more Marisha could do to her. For a moment there was a ringing in her ears and everything felt very, very far away.
‘I’m sure that might come as a bit of a surprise.’
Surprise didn’t come within light years of what Cassie was feeling.
‘And does your .?.?. husband .?.?. know?’
‘My husband?’ she burst out. ‘Oh .?.?. him, God no. Can you keep a secret? Really?’
Cassie nodded. She was so relieved at the last remark that she’d have agreed to anything.
‘I mean, it’s all going to come out sooner or later .?.?. I have to tell someone and it may as well be you.’
Cassie decided to ignore the implied insult. ‘Right.’
‘It’s Roger’s.’
‘Roger .?.?.?’
‘Roger Newcombe, the principal. We’re obviously .?.?. a thing.’
Cassie nodded – for longer than was normal, she realised. ‘Rrrright. So, if you don’t mind my asking, how far along are you?’
‘Oh, not long .?.?. nine weeks. I mean, it’s a mess because it’s all happened so fast, but it’s wonderful at the same time. We’ve both secretly known for ages but we couldn’t act on it because of family situations. I know I shouldn’t really be telling you all this but .?.?. Oh, who cares. We’re in love and obviously you can see what an amazing guy he is. He’s such a .?.?. fucking adult. It’s so attractive.’
Wow. That was one way of describing him. Not everyone’s.
‘That’s amazing, congratulations, I’m delighted.’ Which was absolutely true. Also, she wasn’t imagining it: pregnant women were actually stalking her.
‘Thank you, Cassie, that really means a lot.’ Marisha actually squeezed her hand. ‘Look, I’m going to be honest: at my age, I’m forty-three – I know .?.?. it’s hard to believe – I’m finding it a little exhausting. I’ve really enjoyed directing the children, and I know they’ve loved it, but I’m going to have to hand over most of the play. I know it’s not really fair to ask, but d’you think you’d be able to manage? Roger knows that I may be taking a bit of time off here and there.’
‘Of course, Marisha, I’d be happy to do it, don’t you worry about a thing.’
And there it was, the solution to everything, and all she’d had to do was keep turning up.
*?*?*
Cassie was heading home, trying to process what had happened. She drove down the N11, turning the situation over and over in her mind as though it were a Rubik’s cube, and heaven knows, she was never much good at those.
First of all, this was great. Marisha had moved on in no uncertain terms. The only problem was, from a purely selfish point of view, it could totally upend her relationship with Finn. If he’d felt unavailable before, surely that was only going to get worse? You could be sure Marisha would be unshipping the younger children onto him now that it suited her. She could just imagine Mam rolling her eyes. Had she a point? Was their relationship going to become just another experience of her feeling bottom of the list? The thought was dispiriting. Also, what was she going to do about Marisha’s confession? She now knew this huge fact about Finn’s ex-wife – should she tell him or not?
Just then the sudden blast of a car horn made her jump, and as she looked up, she realised she’d been sitting in front of a green light for ages. She waved an apology before speeding off down the road with a stream of angry drivers behind her.
*?*?*
Finn phoned around seven that evening. ‘Hi, babe, what’re you doing?’
He sounded distracted and it turned out he was mashing potato for the children’s meal, which she remembered had to be more-or-less identical every day for Conor. In the background she could hear a female voice yelling, ‘You pair are driving me fucking crazy. Dad, I’m not sitting in there anymore. They’re fucking mutants !’
‘Samantha, will you calm down, please. Put your headphones on or go into the bedroom.’
‘This place is driving me fucking crazy. I’m fourteen, why can’t I just stay at home ?’
The last word was delivered at such volume that even Cassie winced. There was some more muttering to the effect that she was going out for a walk and a warning not to try to stop her.
‘Sorry .?.?. Sorry about that. Listen, I have the kids tonight, obviously, and .?.?. Look, I’m really sorry but Marisha’s asked me to take them tomorrow evening as well. She’s not well, I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I know we’d planned—’
‘It’s fine, honestly, it’s absolutely no problem.’ Oh God, this was awkward. She was on the verge of blurting out, ‘I know exactly what’s wrong with her,’ but something stopped her.
‘I promise .?.?. this is not my choice,’ he said.
‘Look, it’s fine, I totally understand,’ she said warmly.
She actually felt relieved. No way could she be in Finn’s company and not tell him about Marisha.
‘We could do Saturday instead?’ she suggested.
‘You’re being really understanding about everything. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.’
Poor Finn, no matter how well-meaning he was, he always seemed to find himself wrong-footed when it came to Marisha.