Chapter 33
33
GEMMA
Crystal turned up a couple of evenings later, offering to play with Poppy while I did some work – but I said I’d rather she had a cup of tea and a chat with me. Poppy had been amusing herself with some toys but as soon as she heard Crystal’s voice, of course, she came running out of the living room, holding up her arms to be picked up, wanting Crystal to go and play with her. So rather than cause an upset just before bedtime, I left them to it, got Poppy’s milk and pyjamas ready, and let Crystal put her to bed – a bit early, but Poppy wouldn’t know that.
‘So what did you want to chat about?’ Crystal asked when she was finally settled down. She looked at me warily. ‘Is there something worrying you?’
‘Not exactly worrying, no – but it is puzzling me.’ I turned to look her straight in the eyes. ‘Have you been telling people you’re my sister? People you’ve met when you’re out with Poppy?’
‘What?’ She looked genuinely surprised. ‘No, why would I do that? What makes you think I have?’
‘A neighbour of mine down the road said she’d seen you a lot, out with Poppy, and she thought you were my sister. Perhaps she was just making assumptions, but?—’
‘Perhaps,’ Crystal agreed, with a shrug. ‘Or… well, I sometimes refer to myself as Auntie Crystal when I’m talking to Poppy, so if this person overheard me say that, she could have assumed that meant I was your sister.’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Poppy said this woman – Amanda – saw you with her in the post office, and gave her some chocolate buttons. Is that right? It seems a bit odd; I don’t know her very well.’
‘Oh!’ Crystal’s face cleared in recognition. ‘Yes, I know the woman you mean; she works in the post office, doesn’t she?’
‘Does she? I didn’t know that – I’ve never seen her in there.’
‘Just at weekends, apparently. We always have a chat when I take Poppy in there to choose some sweets.’
‘Well, thank you, but you shouldn’t keep buying her sweets,’ I said. It sounded like she’d been making a habit of it, rather than an occasional treat. But that was beside the point, really. ‘Poppy seemed to think Amanda herself had given her chocolate buttons.’
‘Well, yes, she did – just once. Or maybe twice. I think she probably felt a bit sorry for Poppy?—’
‘Sorry for her? Why?’
‘Well, she asked after you, and Jack, so I told her about Jack leaving, and?—’
‘ What ?’ I stared at Crystal. ‘That was not for you to tell her. I don’t want you talking to my neighbours, telling them private things about me?—’
‘But she asked!’ Crystal said, looking stricken now. ‘I couldn’t very well just pretend Jack was fine, still living here, when he isn’t, could I?’
‘That’s for me to decide, not you. Apart from anything else, that nosy cow fronted up to me the other day and pretended not to know, asking after him again like she was fishing for more information – which I didn’t give her because it’s frankly none of her business! She’s probably gossiping about me now with all the other neighbours, and everyone who goes into the post office?—’
‘Oh.’ Crystal looked down. ‘Oh, Gemma, I’m really sorry. But surely she wouldn’t gossip about you, she seemed so nice?—’
‘I hardly even know her! I don’t want her giving Poppy sweets, OK? Trying to get round you, probably trying to worm more information out of you – making assumptions that you’re my sister. In fact, I don’t want you to take Poppy into that shop any more. I don’t like the idea of it. Poppy will start expecting it, and it’s not good for her.’
Of course, I often bought her sweets in there myself but that wasn’t the point. I was working myself up into a frenzy of annoyance, thinking about Amanda giving out chocolate button bribes in exchange for gossip, thinking about Crystal telling all and sundry my personal business. How dare she?
‘Sorry,’ she was saying again, shakily. ‘I won’t go in there any more then, I promise. Please don’t be angry with me, I didn’t mean any harm, please don’t stop me from taking Poppy out for walks?—’
I stared at her. She was on the verge of tears.
‘I didn’t say anything about stopping you taking her out. Don’t get upset about it… Just – look, please just don’t talk to anyone around here about me, or about my personal business, that’s all I’m saying.’ I lowered my voice a little and added, trying to sound less confrontational – although God knew, it was me that should be upset, not her, ‘All right?’
She sniffed and nodded. ‘Yes. Of course. Sorry.’
‘OK, well, let’s just leave it there.’ I felt awkward, as if I’d been unreasonable. After all, she was doing me a favour. But no – she’d overstepped the mark, and I’d needed to make it clear I wasn’t happy about it. But the panic on her face, and in her voice, when she thought I might stop her from taking Poppy out – it was quite startling. Far from her just doing me a favour. I’d suddenly been faced with the reality of exactly how much of a favour I was doing her… just by letting her look after my daughter. And I felt a little shiver of apprehension.
Crystal stayed for dinner that evening, and we talked about other things – a stilted conversation, like people who’d only just met. I felt shaken, and she was quiet and despondent. She didn’t come round the following evening – a Friday – which was unusual, and I wondered if I’d upset her so much that she’d been frightened off. But on the Saturday morning she appeared as usual, bright and smiling, seemingly back to her old self, wearing a long, bright red corduroy dress decorated with yellow sunflowers.
‘Got it from one of those pre-loved clothing websites,’ she said cheerfully when I complimented her on it, looking down at my boring denim jeans and grey jumper and making the obvious comparison. ‘You should try them. Lots of designer outfits on there, at rock-bottom prices.’
I could hardly tell her that, good though the dress looked on her, I’d never go out wearing anything like the clothes she chose. But just looking at her made me feel more cheerful, and it was a sunny day despite being absolutely freezing cold, so when she suggested taking Poppy out for a run around the park, I said I’d go too. Her face fell for a moment and I guessed she was wondering if I didn’t trust her after our contretemps during the week, but I gave her a hug and said I was up to date with all my work and just fancied a walk in the sunshine.
Poppy was excited by the prospect of the park – it was the first bright day for a while so it had been a couple of weeks since she’d been there.
‘I can walk. Big girl now,’ she said, refusing to sit in her buggy but taking hold of Crystal’s hand as we set off.
‘She’ll change her mind halfway there,’ I said quietly to Crystal. ‘It’s still too far for her?—’
‘I know. She always does.’
It rankled a little – this implication, whether it was intended or not – that Crystal knew as much about Poppy as I did, if not more. But I swallowed it back. I wasn’t going to start finding fault with everything she did now, all of a sudden, just because of one incident that had annoyed me. Sure enough, Poppy asked to get into the buggy well before we reached the park, but jumped out, excitedly, once she spotted her favourite play equipment.
‘Swings!’ she yelled, racing towards them.
‘Stay back, Pops!’ Crystal warned her, running after her. ‘Someone’s in one of them, don’t get too close.’
She grabbed Poppy just in time to stop the child in one of the baby swings from accidentally kicking her over.
‘Thanks,’ I said, catching up with them. ‘Poppy, I keep telling you about this, don’t I! You must stay clear – wait for one of us to bring you to an empty swing.’
‘No harm done!’ said the mother of the little boy. ‘I’d have grabbed George’s swing and stopped it, if Poppy had got too close. Hi!’ she went on, to Crystal. ‘Haven’t seen you over here for a while.’
‘No – well, the weather’s been a bit grim, hasn’t it?’ Crystal replied. ‘Come on, Poppy, I’ll put you in the one next to George, OK?’
I looked from Crystal to George’s mum and back, waiting to be introduced, but Crystal seemed to be almost pretending I wasn’t there.
‘Hello,’ I said, eventually, when the other woman turned to give me a questioning look. ‘I’m Gemma – Poppy’s mum.’
‘Oh!’ The woman coloured slightly, looking from me to Crystal, who had her back to us, securing Poppy into the swing. ‘Oh – I see. Um… I thought…’ She tailed off, gave an awkward little laugh, and then went on in a rush, ‘Well, um, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Nicky, and this is George – he’s the same age as Poppy and we often see her over here, don’t we, George? When she comes with her… um, with…’
‘My friend. Crystal,’ I said, to help her out. Crystal still had her back to us.
‘Your friend. Right,’ Nicky said a little faintly. She looked with a puzzled expression at Crystal’s back view, but didn’t say any more, turning instead to her little boy, who was urging her to push him higher.
Crystal pushed Poppy, Nicky pushed George, we all laughed as the kids squealed excitedly for more, and none of us said any more. Crystal didn’t look me in the eyes again until after we’d finished with the swings, moved on to the baby slide and climbing blocks, said goodbye to Nicky and George, and walked back to look at the ducks.
‘I think Nicky must have assumed I was Poppy’s mum,’ she said, in the tone of someone who was pretending to think something was very funny.
‘Yes. I can’t imagine why she assumed that,’ I said drily.
I told myself, as we walked home, with an overtired Poppy singing softly to herself in the buggy, that it didn’t mean anything. Anyone would assume, if they regularly saw a woman with a child in the park, that the woman was the mother. But that didn’t quite explain why Nicky had looked so confused, had seemed so flummoxed by it, and had stared at the back of Crystal’s head as if she’d expected something from her.
She’d expected an explanation. Because it was pretty obvious what had happened there, and I didn’t like it. I wanted to confront Crystal about it, but what was I going to say? That I didn’t believe Nicky had just made an assumption, at all – that I suspected Crystal was claiming to be Poppy’s mother? She’d just deny it; there was no way I could prove it, and it would seem petty to push the point.
But I wanted to know why. Why was she passing herself off as my daughter’s mother? What could she gain from it? Was it just a game of pretend for her, a chance to act like the mother she so wished she’d been? Or something else entirely?
I worried about it all the rest of the weekend. Mum had invited Poppy and me to her place for dinner and I was aware that I was quiet, listening to Mum chatting about plans for Christmas and what Poppy and I would like as presents, wondering whether Dad would join us for Christmas dinner – as he usually did – or whether he might want to spend the day with friends from his golf club.
‘He’s not seeing the young lady he went out with last year, any more,’ Mum said, sounding quite unperturbed by the whole thing. ‘I don’t know why he bothered, to be honest. He told me he found her boring.’
‘Perhaps he just liked having a bit of female company. Going out for dinner and so on,’ I suggested. The last thing I wanted to have a discussion about was my father’s love life. It seemed bizarre to me that they still got on so well together, spent birthdays and Christmases – and once or twice even a holiday – together, despite being divorced. So to me, there could only be one possible reason for Dad having dated a couple of seemingly younger women since the divorce, and it had nothing to do with enriching his mind.
‘Are you all right, darling?’ she asked as I sat in silence staring at my apple crumble while Poppy made short work of hers. ‘You’re very quiet today.’
‘I’m fine, Mum.’
‘Have you seen Crystal this weekend?’ she asked, pretending to sound casual.
‘Crystal took me to the park!’ Poppy said.
‘Yes – yesterday. We went together, didn’t we, Pops?’
‘Me and George went on the swings!’ she told Mum excitedly.
‘George?’ Mum raised an enquiring eyebrow at me.
‘A little friend Poppy’s made at the park. He was there with his mum.’ I felt myself frowning, just saying it, just remembering. ‘She’d… got to know Crystal.’
‘When Crystal takes Poppy to the park on her own?’ Mum said, her mouth going into a disapproving line.
‘Yes.’ I looked down at my dish. ‘Actually, Mum, I’m really sorry but I’m too full up for dessert. I should have said no.’
‘Not to worry. You can take some home for tomorrow, for you and Poppy.’ She scooped up my plate, put it on top of the empty ones and got up to carry them into the kitchen.
‘I’ll load the dishwasher,’ I offered, following her. Poppy had gone back to the toy she’d been playing with in the living room before lunch.
‘OK,’ Mum said as soon as we were in the kitchen. ‘So what happened?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on: you’ve been quiet and looking worried ever since you arrived, and you obviously didn’t want to talk about the park. Or Crystal. Or was it this other mum, with the little boy?’
‘Nicky. No, Mum, she seemed really nice.’
I crouched down to dishwasher level, hiding my face behind its top drawer as I pulled it out. But I should have known better than to try to hide anything from my mum.
‘Seemed really nice but what?’ she persisted.
I didn’t want to say anything. I’d been telling myself all day I was just imagining it, making something out of nothing. But on top of my annoyance with Crystal for telling Amanda my personal business, it had eaten away at me to the point where I couldn’t hold it back any longer.
‘She thought Crystal was Poppy’s mum,’ I said, still looking into the dishwasher rather than face my mother. ‘It would be understandable. Except that…’
‘You think Crystal’s encouraged it? Or that she’s actually told her she is?’
I sighed, stood up, and finally turned and looked Mum in the eyes.
‘Yes,’ I admitted – and I felt a little shiver run through me, just from saying it aloud. ‘I think she might have done.’