Chapter Fifteen #2
He led her through the house, dragging her forward every time she tugged at him, stopping open mouthed to gaze at her surroundings.
He didn’t call out to announce their arrival.
The element of surprise was everything. Eventually he heard his parents’ voices and realised they were out on the rear terrace by the pool.
Of course, on a lovely summer’s day like this, where better to socialise?
The conservatory doors were wide open, a waft of warm air making its way indoors, floral scents blending with the smell of the sea.
He stepped across the threshold, Marika behind him.
It was his father who saw him first.
‘Ah, you’ve arrived at last,’ he said, his smile fading as he saw Marika follow him out of the conservatory.
His mother spun around, glass in hand.
‘Jordan, is this some sort of joke?’ she asked, setting her wine glass down onto the buffet table, her gaze fixed on Marika.
‘Joke? No mother.’ Jordan shook his head, his eyes locked on hers, all wide-eyed innocence. He wanted to howl with laughter at the shocked expression on her face.
‘This is the special girl you told me about. The waitress who served our sweet course the night we had dinner at Tarwin House when étienne was here?’
‘Yes, Mother, this is Marika.’
‘I am pleased to meet you both.’ Marika gave a nervous smile, aware of the tension. His mother recognised her and didn’t approve. ‘Jordan has told me all about you,’ she continued. ‘You have a lovely home.’
Her sentences, so formal and stilted, reminded Jordan of textbook pieces someone learning English would use. He watched as his mother thanked her with a formal nod, not even bothering to make eye contact. Instead she shot a desperate look across at his father.
‘Well,’ Gareth cleared his throat and smiled uncomfortably, ‘let me get you something to drink, Marika. We have wine or maybe—’
‘Beer,’ she interrupted, tearing her gaze from Evie. ‘I only drink beer.’
‘Beer it is then.’ Gareth nodded, opened up the small patio fridge and pulled out a bottle of lager. He was about to uncap it when she interrupted again.
‘What make is this beer you have?’ Jordan heard her frosty response as she walked over to where his father stood. Mother has upset her, he thought, she’s not happy. Excellent. He watched her place her hand over Gareth’s as he turned it over so she could see the label.
‘This is a German lager … are you okay with it or shall I—?’
‘It will do,’ Marika interrupted, waiting as he levered the metal cap off. ‘I do not need a glass,’ she said, as she took it from him.
As Jordan took an opened bottle from his father he noticed his mother standing there horrified as she watched Marika take a mouthful of lager.
He knew she hated him drinking straight from the bottle.
She considered it uncouth and common but he’d brushed her objections aside and as always she’d backed down.
But to have a woman doing this … he stifled a grin, this was far better than he’d hoped for.
He had brought Marika here today for the sole purpose of upsetting his mother.
Another opportunity to pay her back for the way she constantly intruded in his life.
She interfered and embarrassed him in front of his friends with her tactile manner, always needing to brush his hair from his eyes or pick non-existent cotton threads from his jacket.
Touching, always touching. Over the years she had become a sad and needy woman, dependent on the bottle.
Wine or spirits, it didn’t matter as long as it could suspend reality for a while.
But he wasn’t responsible for what she’d turned into; he had to thank his father for that.
Oh yes, he knew about the woman he kept in the expensive flat in Newquay.
And so did Evie. Jordan didn’t know how his mother could live in this house knowing his father’s dirty little secret.
If he’d been her he would have walked away, but then she was weak.
She couldn’t function on her own. She enjoyed the lifestyle and, anyway, who the hell else was prepared to take on the burden of a middle-aged lush?
So she stayed, coped with the pain of living with a man who no longer wanted her, and drank.
It wasn’t fair, he reasoned, to be saddled with parents like this.
Evie suffocated him and Gareth constantly reminded him he wasn’t like his perfect cousin.
They both deserved this disastrous lunch.
He took a swig of beer. Thoughts of Luke intensified his anger. It was time to give the knife another twist.
‘When are we eating?’ he asked, watching as his mother took another large swallow of wine.
‘It’s all there.’ She gave a silly wave towards the table. He noticed she was beginning to sway and wondered how long she’d been drinking. Most of the day, he guessed.
He took Marika’s bottle from her and set it down before guiding her towards the table.
‘Here.’ He handed her a plate and serviette. ‘Help yourself.’
Marika stepped towards the food, taking her time to study all the different dishes. She wrinkled her nose and then tentatively reached across to help herself to some salad.
Jordan joined her, filling his plate with rice salad, chicken, pork, and many of the other dishes he knew Evie had paid the deli to produce for her.
‘Over there.’ He pointed to a circular table set to one side of the swimming pool.
Marika sat and he left her for a moment to retrieve their bottles.
By the time he returned Evie and Gareth had joined them.
His mother’s wine glass was full again, something he noticed his father had already spotted.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ Evie screwed her face up as she looked at Marika’s sparse helping of salad.
Marika gave a little smile, pushed her hair back from her face. ‘It is a beautiful meal you have prepared, Mrs Hunter, but unfortunately I can eat very little. I am a vegetarian, you see. I do not eat rice either, or pasta.’
Evie set her knife and fork against her plate. ‘But Jordan told me …’ She looked across at him for confirmation. ‘I’m sure you told me she didn’t have any dietary issues.’
‘I might have forgotten about the rice and pasta but I definitely said you needed to have a good selection of vegetarian dishes.’ He gave her an innocent shake of his head.
‘But never mind; let’s just enjoy the afternoon, shall we?
Marika does love puddings so she’ll more than make up for what she’s not eaten here, won’t you, babe? ’
‘Oh yes.’ Marika nodded, looking across at him with an adoring smile.
Evie stared at her food then reached for her wine glass. The meal continued in silence.
‘How could he? How could he do this to me?’ Evie screeched, turning on Gareth, her face red with rage.
They had just waved Jordan and Marika off and closed the front door.
During the meal everything was calm, although early on Gareth had detected one of Evie’s volcanic outbursts brewing.
The constant topping up of her wine glass and her lack of conversation were the key elements to an approaching storm.
It had been left to Marika to hold sway, enlightening them all about her life in Poland and her reasons for coming to the UK.
As she talked of her dreams her hand slipped over Jordan’s.
Gareth noticed he didn’t pull away. She kept referring to him as ‘my lovely Jordie’, something that made him cringe and caused Evie to pour even more wine down her throat.
Was he honestly smitten with this girl? Or was it merely another spiteful game he was playing with his mother?
From the expression on his face and the way his gaze constantly drifted towards her, he guessed the latter. Nasty little bastard.
However, in some ways he believed Evie was only reaping what she had sewn.
From an early age their son had been wrapped in cotton wool, sent off to the same smart school Ruan’s children attended, Evie had insisted.
Over the years her demands grew with more nagging, more rows, until it became all too easy to step back and simply let her have her way.
Anything for a peaceful and quiet life. His weakness had been his undoing.
It turned his wife into a monster: one who had just rushed past him and was currently out by the pool trashing everything she could lay her hands on.
He followed the sounds of splintering glass and shattering crockery.
Coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the dining room, he surveyed the chaos.
Well, she’d done herself proud today, even managing to heave a couple of patio chairs into the pool.
And now she stood out on the lawn, shoulders slumped, head bowed, sobbing.
Carefully avoiding the carnage, he made his way towards her, wrapping her in his arms. Evie went limp, sobbing into his shoulder.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled into his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.
’ Hearing her words it occurred to him he’d been here so many times before with ruined crockery and wine-stained carpets.
Once Jordan became an adult and was inundated with young women falling all over themselves to be seen out with him, instead of letting go and simply being there for him like most mothers, Evie continued to smother him; to constantly interfere.
Something which ultimately led to today’s events – Jordan punishing his mother in the way he knew best: humiliation.
Her life, lived solely to serve his wants and needs, meant she had few, if any friends.
She had been outgoing when she was young, but not now.
At Rotary dinner/dances she had little to say to the other wives and turned down invitations to lunch or to join groups.
They thought her snobbish, unaware this preferred isolation was in order to devote her time to her son.
A dangerous path, which led them to where they were now.
Her continual refusal to recognise an obsession, which had reached alarming levels, led Gareth to reluctantly admit his wife probably needed professional help.
But how did you help someone who, within their alcoholic bubble, insisted there was nothing wrong, that their world was perfect?