Chapter 11
BETH
I leave the kitchen to go to collect the takeaway. But first I want to check if my suspicions are correct. If I find Justin in the annexe, I swear I’ll kill him.
The hallway is in darkness, except for the beam of light spearing through the glassed recess above the oak door. A voice startles me. I jump.
‘I’m sorry, dear, I didn’t mean to scare you.
’ Hattie’s frail hand grabs the rail as she stands at the bottom of the carpeted stairs in her long white nightie.
She’d look like a ghost, haloed in the insufficient light, except I can just make out that she’s wearing bright red shoes with kitten heels and matching lipstick that looks as if she’s applied it with the wrong hand.
‘I’m looking for Harold. Do you know where he is? ’
It breaks my heart. Harold is Hattie’s ex-husband – Justin’s father – who walked out of their family home thirty years ago for a younger version of the beauty she once was.
Hattie travelled the catwalks of the world and appeared on the cover of Vogue three times during her career as a model.
Harold emigrated to Australia after their split, and they never heard from him again.
On bad days, she asks after his whereabouts at least fifty times a day, like a record on repeat.
On good days, she remembers him for the selfish bastard he was.
‘Why don’t you take those shoes off, Hattie?’ We don’t need any more drama in this house tonight. I worry about her negotiating the stairs as her condition worsens. Justin assures me she’s OK. But I’m not so confident, and Connor agrees with me. I need to mention it again.
She reaches out her hand, leaving it hovering. ‘Have you seen Harold, dear?’ She started calling me dear when she moved in with us. And apart from Justin and her ex, it’s how she now addresses everyone, because she no longer remembers anyone’s name.
I take her hand. ‘Here, let me help you take those shoes off.’
She shakes me away. ‘I’m wearing them for Harold. He likes me wearing these ones. Where is he?’ Connor was right. She is having a bad day.
‘He’s away on a business trip.’ It’s the staple answer. Anything else and she’d break down sobbing until she can’t remember why she was crying and then ask where he is again.
‘Business trip? Whereabouts?’ she asks.
‘Up north somewhere.’
‘He works too hard, doesn’t he?’
‘He’ll be back tomorrow.’
The doorbell rings again. Blue barks.
‘Is that Harold? Is he back?’
I shake my head. ‘No. He won’t be back tonight, Hattie. We’ve ordered a Chinese takeaway.’
‘Oh, I love Chinese.’ She doesn’t. She hates it. Her palate is as simple as her mind these days. Meat, mash and two veg, if she eats at all.
‘Let me get the food, and then I’ll get you something more suitable to put on, and you can join us.’
I collect the bag of Chinese food, close the door and rest the bag on the hallway table, then coax her to wait on the chair in the hallway. ‘I’ll go and get your dressing gown and slippers.’ Make her look decent.
Before I go upstairs, I check the annexe. I was wrong. Justin isn’t in there. Perhaps he’s popped to his office.
I haul myself up the stairs. This is getting too much for me.
What am I saying? It’s been too much since the day she moved in.
This is not the right place for her. It never was.
I never wanted her to come and live with us.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Hattie. She’s a dear, sweet soul.
But I knew what would happen. I’d be the one who ended up looking after her.
And I was right. Justin is always busy with one thing or another, leaving me in the house caring for her, despite the promises that it wouldn’t come to this.
He assured me he’d get help. Broken promises that he’d step in as well.
Full-time carers would take the brunt of the work, he assured me.
But the agency he sourced was unreliable, bookings cancelled at the last minute.
And Hattie disliked the majority of the carers they sent, and I don’t have the heart to force people upon her she doesn’t want.
I would hate it if it were me. It’s all such a mess. A terrible, bleak mess.
I find her dressing gown and slippers in her room.
On my way back to the stairs, I stop by the hallway window to look outside, fixing on the stable block, from where Justin mainly runs our business these days.
I have my own part in running our business, a significant one.
Not taking centre stage like him but behind the scenes, making sure the show runs smoothly.
He’s the actor in our business. I’m the stage manager and every other role he doesn’t have the patience for.
But what with being ill, and Hattie taking up so much of my time, I’ve had to step back and let him get on with a lot more. It’s been hard for both of us.
When I return downstairs, Hattie is tottering up and down the hallway as if she’s lost. ‘Here we go.’ I hurry after her and persuade her to swap the shoes for her slippers.
Grabbing the food, I guide her back to Connor and Immy, who are sitting at the kitchen table.
At least it’s my son she’s flirting with and not my husband.
I plonk the food in the centre of the table and point to Hattie, who is shuffling along behind me. ‘Look who’s coming to join us.’
‘Grandma. I thought you were in bed.’ Connor jumps up. ‘I’ll grab you a plate.’
Hattie’s fingers curl around the back of a chair. She glowers at Immy across the table as if she were a piece of dirt on her nightie. It’s as if Hattie knows her.
The music from the living room grows louder. That’s what Justin has been doing. He’s been lining up his music. A feeling of dread creeps through me. He suddenly appears. ‘Mum.’ He goes up to her and kisses her cheek. ‘Fancy a drink?’
‘Just a tipple.’
Immy rearranges the placemats to make a space and invites Hattie to sit next to her.
As Justin refills our glasses, I lift the lids from the foil trays of food, while our visitor charms my mother-in-law as much as she’s charmed my husband and son.
To my dismay, Justin takes the seat on the other side of her. I can’t stand this.
Despite Hattie constantly asking about Harold’s whereabouts, the atmosphere is jovial, helped by the bottle of wine Justin pulls out of the fridge after the champagne is gone.
I opt for water. Despite wanting a glass of wine, I’m going to suffer enough with the half glass of champagne I’ve drunk.
My husband’s actions have stolen my appetite.
I pick at a helping of chicken chow mein.
My stomach is turning, and my heart is heavy.
I know how this evening is going to end.
‘Can one of you give me a lift to the station tomorrow?’ Connor asks. ‘I need to be back in London for nine o’clock.’
‘No problem.’ Justin rests his hand on Immy’s.
My eyes widen. He pulls his hand away as if he didn’t mean to put it on hers. Oh, Justin. You never mean it, do you?
‘I’ll drop you at the airport straight afterwards,’ Justin says.
Immy smiles sweetly. ‘That’s kind of you, but as I said, I can get an Uber.’
‘I wouldn’t hear of it.’ He refills her glass.
Don’t drink it, I want to shout at her. Get your things and get away from here as quickly as you can.
Hattie bangs the table with the handle of her knife. Her red lipstick has smeared like blood around her mouth. ‘What time will Harold be home?’