Chapter 37
37
GEMMA
I was worried about Crystal now. I’d never seen her quite so upset before, and I wished, more than anything, that I hadn’t broached the subject of those weekends that obviously caused her such a lot of stress – I was only trying to help, but I’d been well and truly warned off, now. It was weird, not seeing her for lunch the next day, not having her turn up any evening that week to see us and play with Poppy; weird, and a bit hurtful. I obviously wasn’t buying the excuse about her having a virus. For one thing, I knew she was at work; I’d seen her car in the car park. Had I actually upset her so much that she didn’t even want to see me? After spending a couple of days worrying about it, wondering whether to call her, whether to apologise, check she was OK, I suddenly did a mental about-turn and started to feel aggrieved. I’d only been trying to help, hadn’t I? Only tried to sympathise. It was hardly a crime. Hardly something to make her turn her back on me. All my worries about her started to flood back, then; I’d almost forgotten about them, in my concern for her, and my anxiety about whether I’d offended her. What was wrong with her? What was it that she was so determined to keep secret? Why was she so over the top in her attachment to my daughter that she was possibly pretending to be her mother?
Nevertheless, I had to admit that by the end of the week, I was missing her.
So was Poppy.
‘When’s Crystal coming?’ she asked me that Thursday, and when I couldn’t give her a definite answer, she started to work herself up into what threatened to be a full-blown tantrum. She was bored, that was the truth of it. I made a special effort, took time off from my work – which I couldn’t really afford to do as I’d acquired a couple of new clients who were expecting their websites finalised before Christmas – to play with her; but I’d got out of the habit, because Crystal was normally with her at least a couple of times during the week.
‘I want Crystal!’ Poppy demanded. She threw one of her crayons on the floor, followed by another one, watching me – daring me to get annoyed. I wanted to, but at the same time I felt, ridiculously, like throwing things around myself. It wasn’t Poppy’s fault I’d become so dependent on Crystal. It wasn’t her fault that I’d taken advantage of Crystal’s bond with her, to take on extra work that I normally wouldn’t have been able to even consider doing. But I needed to do it. I needed the money, I was on my own now and that bastard Jack was never going to be found, never going to be forced to face his financial responsibilities.
‘I know, darling,’ I said. I pushed my laptop aside. ‘I wish she was here, too, but she’s not very well. Shall I help you with that drawing? Shall we draw a picture of Crystal, to give her when she feels better? Come on then – pick up those crayons off the floor first.’
Of course, Poppy’s ‘drawings’ were still only at the stage of shapes, sometimes vaguely resembling that of what she was supposedly portraying. But with a bit of guidance and help, she produced a reasonable depiction of a head, body, stick arms and legs, all in bright colours, that could easily pass for Crystal in one of her crazy outfits. And after we’d played a couple of games together it was time for her tea. Another day with hardly any work done. How would I manage, now, if Crystal decided never to come back and help me again? I shuddered at the thought, and at the same time, I realised I’d become far too dependent, far too quickly. This really wasn’t good. My child was my responsibility. If Mum and Dad were right in saying Crystal had got too attached to Poppy, I had to accept that it was my own fault. I’d let it happen.
‘You seem a bit down,’ Mum said when I delivered Poppy to her house the following day. ‘Is everything all right?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Not more problems with Crystal, I hope?’
‘No, Mum,’ I snapped, immediately on the defensive. ‘I still don’t even know if there is a problem, OK? Only that she hasn’t been free to come round at all this week.’
‘Really?’ Mum raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s unusual, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. Well, she says she’s had a virus.’ Even though I knew it wasn’t true, it was a good enough excuse to stop Mum making an inquisition out of it. ‘But it’s made it difficult for me to get through all the extra work I’ve taken on.’
‘For goodness’ sake, why didn’t you call me? I could have had Poppy for an extra day. What about tomorrow? Am I still going to look after her while you go Christmas shopping?’
‘I don’t know.’ I sighed. I’d lost interest in the idea of a shopping trip since I’d invited Crystal to come with me – it had felt, for just those couple of minutes, like such a fun idea, and then, when she’d told me it was one of the weekends that she couldn’t see me, it had all come crashing down. ‘I’m not really in the mood for it. I think I’ll just do it all online this year.’
‘Well, let me have Poppy anyway. I can keep her tonight, and bring her back tomorrow evening. That’ll give you another whole day to catch up on your work.’
‘Oh. Are you sure, Mum? Two whole days – it’s a lot to ask of you?—’
‘No it’s not! I’ll enjoy every minute of it. So will Poppy. I keep telling you how much I love having her – you really don’t need to rely on Crystal so much. You know how I feel about that?—’
‘Yes, all right, let’s not start on that again,’ I said – and then immediately felt guilty for reacting so snappily, when she was being so good to me, and I was, definitely, very grateful. ‘Thank you, Mum.’ I gave her a kiss. ‘I do appreciate it.’
The weekend seemed to drag. I’d worked on the new clients’ websites all day Friday and all day Saturday, and by the time Mum brought Poppy home, tired but happy from an afternoon at Exeter’s Christmas fair, I’d actually finished both projects, and started to catch up with some other outstanding work too. I was exhausted but pleased, and I was also more than ready to see my baby girl again, to grab hold of her, kiss her and hug her and tell her how much I’d missed her.
‘Look! We bringed you chocolates!’ she said, freeing herself from my arms and holding out a torn paper bag full of chocolate ginger – one of my favourites, even if a bit squashed.
‘Wow, thank you, they look yummy,’ I said, mouthing a silent thank you to Mum. ‘Stay for dinner?’ I asked her, but she said she wanted to get home, and I guessed she must be tired. She was still a young-looking sixty-six, but nevertheless I knew how exhausting it must be for her to have a full-on excited Poppy for two whole days.
‘Your dad’s coming down again tomorrow,’ she said just as she was leaving, ‘if you’d like to join us for dinner?’
I looked at her in surprise. Dad seemed to be coming down a lot more often recently. Wasn’t he coming back yet again for Christmas Day? The thought went through my head, briefly, that they were getting together to discuss me, to share their gripes about Crystal – but I dismissed this quickly as paranoia.
‘No. Thanks, Mum, but you’ve done enough for me this weekend. And I should spend some quality time with Poppy on our own, while…’ I nearly said while Crystal isn’t here – but I guessed it wouldn’t be a good idea to invite any sarcastic comments. Or to start Poppy hankering after Crystal again.
Despite all my concerns about Crystal, she seemed to be completely back to normal on Monday lunchtime as if nothing had happened.
‘Are you OK now?’ I asked her gently over our lunch.
‘Me? Yes, of course, why?’ she asked, laughing as she tucked into her five-bean soup.
‘From your virus,’ I said pointedly – and she had the grace, at least, to look a bit shamefaced as she dropped her eyes and mumbled about it having cleared up suddenly within a few days.
I persisted. ‘So how was your weekend?’
‘Oh, fine, fine.’ She gave me a beaming smile. ‘Did you have a good one?’
I stared at her. All that melodrama, all the days the previous week that I’d spent worrying about her, wondering what on earth it could be about her mysterious weekends that caused her so much upset and suffering, and yet here she was, gulping back her soup with such a healthy appetite, smiling happily and saying everything was fine.
‘No,’ I said bluntly. ‘I had to work flat-out, to get everything finished for my new clients, so Mum had to have Poppy overnight and for an extra day. And?—’
I just managed to stop myself from saying: And I missed you. So did Poppy.
I didn’t want to tell her that. I didn’t want to emphasise how much I’d come to depend on her, or how upset Poppy had been without her all week. I’d already made up my mind – hadn’t I? – that I needed to cut down on how much time Crystal spent with us; so Poppy and I both needed to get used to it.
‘How is my little Poppy-Pops?’ she asked eagerly. ‘I’ve missed her so much.’
‘She’s fine,’ I said rather more brusquely than I’d intended. ‘It was good for her to spend a bit more time with me, and with Mum, for a change.’
Ouch. That had sounded cruel, even to my own ears, and I saw Crystal flinch slightly. But I needed to do this; I needed to make it clear there had to be some lines drawn.
‘I think Poppy was beginning to wonder which of us was her real mummy,’ I went on. ‘And, well, if even other mums in the park think of you as?—’
‘Gemma, stop it. You know – you must know – I’d never want to take your place, I’d never deliberately take over from you in Poppy’s affections.’
I looked back at her. She seemed genuinely hurt that I’d implied anything untoward. But could I believe her? I thought about my dad’s warnings, my mum’s insistence that something wasn’t right. Even though I resented their interference, I did, reluctantly, respect their opinions. And the things they’d suggested about Crystal had eaten away at my own certainty.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘all I’m saying is that I don’t want Poppy to get too dependent on you. She was really upset about not seeing you this week, and that’s not good; there are bound to be times when you can’t come round, and I can’t have her crying whenever that happens.’
‘Please say you’re not going to stop me coming round?’ she said, her eyes wide with horror.
‘Of course I’m not. But maybe you shouldn’t come quite so often.’
‘Oh. Well, OK,’ she said quietly, looking down at the table, her previous jolly mood somewhat abated.
We changed the subject, talking about work, the weather, Christmas. Nothing more was said about the amount of time she spent with Poppy, and when, over lunch the following day, she asked if she could come over on the Wednesday evening, I said yes, that would be nice, and after that perhaps we’d leave it till the weekend. She looked hurt again, but didn’t disagree.
Poppy, of course, was delighted when she arrived, and the pair of them were immediately back to their usual relationship – rolling around on the floor together like two puppies, playing silly games, chasing each other, singing their favourite songs, making me feel completely redundant as I was shooed upstairs to get on with my work.
Be grateful , I reminded myself, trying to quieten the protesting little voice in my head. You need to earn a living. We had dinner together, as usual, after Poppy was in bed, and everything began to feel like it was back to normal. Crystal was flushed and excited from playing with Poppy, and we chatted about Christmas Eve, what we could cook for our special meal together, and what she could buy Poppy as a present. She wanted to know what Mum, Dad and I were likely to buy her, so she could avoid duplicating. When it was finally time for her to leave, she started to suggest coming back the next evening.
‘No,’ I insisted, wishing I didn’t have to sound so firm, so unfriendly, about it. ‘Remember what I suggested. Let’s leave it till Saturday now.’
‘But… what about Friday evening? You could get some more work done.’
‘I’ve caught up now, thanks. I’ll be OK. Look, no offence, Crystal, you know how much I appreciate your help, but I need to spend a bit more time with Poppy myself. I’ll see you Saturday.’
‘OK,’ she said, in a sulky tone. And then, brightening up, ‘Perhaps I’ll take her into town. Show her the Christmas lights!’
‘I’ll come too, then.’
‘Oh. All right.’ She glanced back at me, then, looking a bit guilty. ‘I mean, yes, that’ll be nice, Gem. OK, see you then.’
I watched her walking back to her car in the dark, and suddenly had a thought – remembering what Mum had said.
‘Actually, Crys – why don’t I bring Poppy to your place, and we can go from there? You live nearer the town centre.’
‘Oh.’ She stopped dead, her car key in her hand, staring at it as if she wasn’t sure what to do with it. ‘Um… well, that’s, an idea, I suppose. Although it’s really tricky to park outside my flat, especially at weekends. It’s all resident parking only and well, it’s easy for me to just drive over here?—’
‘It’s no trouble. I’ll pick you up, I’ll drive, so I’ll only need to park for a few minutes while you get in the car. And I’ve got the car seat, haven’t I, for Poppy.’
‘Oh. Yes, I suppose that’s a point. OK, then.’
She didn’t want us going to her place. And just as Mum had said, I couldn’t help wondering why the hell not.