Forget Me Knot (42 page)

“Mum! I’m here.”

The cameras and the reporters turned toward Abby. “How does it feel to have your parents back?”

“Fantastic!”

“Did you see your mother on
Oprah
?”

“No, but I can’t wait to watch the DVD.”

“Did you fear for your parents’ health during the Mutiny on the
Bantry
?”

“All the time. I never stopped worrying.”

As Abby hugged first Jean and then Hugh, cameras whirred and clacked around them. Abby was crying. Jean was crying. Even Hugh had a tear in his eye.

“Oh, Abby, it is so good to see you,” Jean said through her tears. “We’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you, too.”

At this point, an airport executive appeared and introduced himself. He offered to escort them to the conference room where the press conference was due to be held. Abby looked at her watch. “Thing is, Dad, you didn’t tell me about this press conference. I’m not sure I’ve got time to hang on. I thought I was taking you straight home. I’m doing the flowers for this party tonight and I really need to be there in a couple of hours. It’s going to take ages to get everything done.”

Jean explained that they didn’t know about the press conference until their London publicist called them at JFK to say it had been arranged.

“You have a publicist?”

“Actually, she has two.” Hugh grinned. “One in London and one in New York. It’s like being married to Madonna.”

“Oh, stoppit,” Jean giggled, digging her husband in the ribs. She turned to Abby. “He’s so proud,” she said.

“And with good reason,” Hugh added.

By now the airport executive was trying to hide his impatience behind a thin smile. Jean picked up on this. She shooed Hugh off to the conference room, barely giving
Abby a chance to kiss him good-bye, and said she would join him in fifteen minutes. “Come on,” she said to Abby. “Surely you’ve got time for a quick cuppa.”

Abby detected something different about her mother’s manner and tone. It wasn’t brusque or bossy so much as assertive.

Abby smiled. “Course I have.”

Jean put her arm through Abby’s and they headed toward the airport Starbucks. Jean’s pace was brisk. She held her body erect, her chin forward.

Abby ordered a tall cappuccino. Her mother asked for a half soy half low-fat java-chip Frappuccino with an extra shot. “Ooh, and could I have some whipped cream on that?”

“My God, America’s really rubbed off on you.”

Jean shook her head. “Maybe a bit,” Jean said as they sat down. “But it has more to do with what happened on the
Bantry
. Since then I have no problem asking for what I want. Do you remember that story I used to read you when you were little, about the mouse that roared? Well, I feel like that.”

Abby nodded. “You’ve changed. Your body language is different. You look so poised and in control. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

Jean took her daughter’s hand. “Don’t panic, poppet. I’m still the old me, deep down. It’s just that I feel I’ve tapped into something that has been wanting to come out for a long time.” She paused. “I don’t want to go on about it, but my father really damaged me when I was growing up. He left me a frightened, cowering wreck, too frightened to say boo to a goose. Over the years, with your dad’s help, I gained a bit of confidence, but I never realized quite how angry I was and how much I needed to let it out. The
Bantry
was the catalyst. When the owners wouldn’t give in and pay us compensation, I suddenly became this erupting volcano.”

“I thought perhaps that’s what had happened,” Abby said.

“And there’s something else.”

“What?” Abby could sense what was coming.

“I’ve never felt I was a good role model for you.”

“Oh, Mum, stop. Please. You’ve been a fantastic role model—”

“How could I have been when I was at home all day, cooking and cleaning? I suppose I went to the Women’s Institute, but that was about it. I never
did
anything. I’ve never achieved anything.”

“You achieved me.”

Jean took her daughter’s hand and patted it. “I know. And I’m so proud of you, but at the same time I’ve always wanted to do something to make you proud of me.”

Abby’s eyes started to fill up. “Oh, Mum, I’ve always been proud of you. After all, you stayed at home to take care of me. I can’t think of a time when you weren’t there. Remember when I first started school and was really nervous every day and we’d sing ‘One Hundred Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ all the way there? And then when I was a bit older, you’d test me on my tables? Whenever there was a school play, I’d have the best costume. When we did that dramatized version of the Three Little Pigs and I was grass, you spent weeks sticking green raffia onto that cube of foam. And when that awful Hayley Saunders told me she didn’t want to be my friend anymore, you scared her half to death with your lecture about karma. She told me years later she thought karma was some bloke who was out to get her. You’ve been the best mum.”

“Thank you. That means so much to me.” Jean picked up a spoon and began toying with the whipped cream on top of her coffee. “But when I started to lead the protest on the ship, I couldn’t help thinking that I was doing something to make you
really
proud.”

“You know something, Mum—this isn’t about what I feel. This is about you. For the first time in your life, you feel proud of yourself, and that’s what counts.”

Jean nodded and let out a half laugh. “You’re right. In a strange way, I was standing up to your grandfather.”

“I think you were,” Abby said. “So, what’s next?”

“I’m doing the
Richard & Judy
show tomorrow, plus various newspaper and magazine interviews. A couple of publishers have approached me about writing a book about what happened on the
Bantry
. Then there are the requests for after-dinner speeches. But I thought when all the fuss finally dies down, I might set myself up as an assertiveness trainer.”

Abby clapped her hands. “Brilliant. You’d be fantastic, Mum, just fantastic.”

“You know what? I think so, too.”

When they’d finished laughing, a look of concern came over Jean’s face. “Abby, what’s the matter? I’ve been looking at you and you seem preoccupied.”

“Well, it’s a long story, and I wasn’t going to tell you until we got home.” She took a breath. “Toby and I broke up.”

Jean looked at Abby in amazement. “Good grief. Why?”

“Mum… Toby is gay.”

“Gay? I don’t understand.”

“Toby is homosexual. He left me for a man.”

“Abby, I know what gay means. What I don’t understand
is what he was doing getting engaged to you if he knew he was gay.”

“He was too scared to come out.”

“You mean he used you as a sort of smoke screen?”

Abby nodded.

“The bastard! How dare he?”

“Mum! You’ve never sworn like that in your life.”

“I know. I’m only just getting the hang of it. The stress of the
Bantry
drove me to it. Your father doesn’t approve of women swearing, but I have to say it’s great fun. So liberating.”

“Anyway, I’ve been seeing somebody else, but we’ve had a falling-out, which was sort of my fault and I need to fix it.”

Just then Jean got a text on her mobile. “They’re waiting for me in the conference room,” Jean said. “I have to go.”

The two women stood up. Jean put her arms round her daughter. “I am so sorry this happened to you. It must have been dreadful and I hate it that I wasn’t there for you.”

“It was OK. I had Scozz and Soph. Look, you go. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

“Yes… and good luck fixing things with this new chap.”

“Thanks, Mum. And, by the way, I’m really, really proud of you.” She put her arms round her mother and held her tight.

AS ABBY
made her way back to her car, she tried Dan again on his house phone and on his mobile, but he was answering neither.

When she arrived at Mr. T’s flat, Ichiro was waiting for
her. He was wearing a silver lamé tunic over skinny jeans. He planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. “All the flowers are here and everything is totally awesome.” He led her into the enormous living room. “I put all the flowers in buckets and vases like you said. We didn’t have enough, so I borrowed from the neighbors.”

Ichiro had lined the containers full of blooms against the wall. She went over to look at them. The lotus flowers and baby pink peonies were open and perfect. The cherry blossom branches were covered in exquisite pink and white tissue-fine flowers. Her suppliers had done an excellent job. From outside, the divine fragrance of English lavender came wafting in.

Abby couldn’t wait to get her hands on the flowers and start working. While Ichiro hung paper lanterns from the ceiling, she arranged the cherry blossoms so that they seemed to spill out of the giant floor vases she had rented. When she had finished with the blossoms, she turned her attention to the peonies. She arranged them in clear glass vases, each one a different size and shape, and stood them on Mr. T’s Steinway. Bonsai trees were dotted on sideboards and occasional tables.

Two hours later, the fountain was bubbling gently next to the pagoda and filling a tiny brook. Abby looked heavenward and prayed none of the water would leak.

Ichiro couldn’t contain himself. “Omigod, this is so totally awesome.”

“I agree.” The booming voice came from nowhere and made them both jump.

Mr. T had come into the flat and was now coming toward them. He ignored Ichiro. It was obvious he was still
furious with him for handing in his notice. “Miss Crompton, this is very good work. Very good work indeed. I shall recommend you to all my friends. I love big penis. I tell all my friends you give me very big penis.”

“Oh, Mr. Takahashi, I’m not sure that is such a good idea. You see—”

His face suddenly broke into a broad, mischievous grin. “OK, maybe not.” Then he winked at her. He turned to Ichiro, barked some orders in Japanese and then disappeared.

No sooner had Mr. T left than the intercom buzzer went off. Ichiro answered it.

“Dan? Look, I don’t know how you found out Abby was here, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to see you.”

Abby ran over and grabbed the intercom phone from Ichiro: “Yes, yes, I do. Dan, come up.” She pressed the door release.

“I don’t geddit. That evening when we were in the court canteen, we all agreed the man was a total jerk. Now you want to see him? I’m telling you, Abby, you’re in denial. So many abused women are. You have to walk away, the way I am walking away from Mr. T. He isn’t going to change.”

“Don’t worry, Ichiro. You don’t understand. Things have changed. There’s been a huge mistake. It was all my fault.”

“Sweetie, it’s what all abused women say. I used to think like that. I thought it was me who made Mr. T mad. Now I know that I’m not to blame for his behavior, and you’re not to blame for how Dan treats you. His behavior is his responsibility, not yours. You poor deluded girl. Now, when he gets here, I’m not going to let him in.”

“But you have to. I’ll explain later. I promise. You have to believe me. There really has been a mistake. Dan never cheated on me. Really, he didn’t.”

“Abby, there is no mistake. The man is a two-timing bastard. He will never be faithful. I know it’s painful, but you have to face up to it. Get angry if you want. Cry if you need to. Lash out and scream. We could even chant if that helps.”

The doorbell rang.

“Please, Ichiro. Please let him in. I’m begging you.”

Ichiro sighed. “OK, if you say so.”

He opened the door and greeted Dan with a face like stone. Not that Dan noticed. He ran toward Abby and took her in his arms.

When they started kissing, it was breathless and frantic.

Ichiro grimaced and tutted with disapproval and made no effort to move. Abby decided that he was either desperate to find out what had been going on or he had gotten it into his head that Dan could turn violent. She wasn’t about to ask which it was. Neither was she going to waste more time trying to convince Ichiro that Dan wasn’t the bastard he thought he was. Instead, she led Dan out onto the terrace and closed the sliding door behind them.

It was dark now and the air was cold. Dan took off his jacket and put it round Abby’s shoulders.

“I just spoke to Cinders. She said you’d stopped by.”

Abby nodded. “Burst in, more like. Liam looked as if he wanted the ground to swallow him up. Then Cinders explained everything and how I’d gotten the wrong impression. I don’t know what to say. I’ve behaved so badly and made such a fool of myself.”

“You were angry. When you came round to my flat the
other night and found us, it must have looked awful—Toby and Christian all over again. I just wish you’d given me a chance to explain.”

“I know. I should have taken your calls, but I pretty much hated you by then.” She paused. “How did you know I was here?”

“I phoned Scozz. Don’t worry, he didn’t betray you on purpose. He just let it out by accident. I think it’s all this excitement at getting Debbie Harry back.”

“Well, I’m glad he told you. I’ve been trying to get you, but your phone’s been off.”

“No battery. I forgot to put it on charge when I got back last night.” He rearranged the jacket so that it fit more securely on her shoulders. “You know, it was only after you said you never wanted to see me again that I realized…”

“Realized what?”

He moved forward. She was aware that they were standing with their foreheads and noses practically touching. “That I have fallen in love with you.”

“I love you, too.”

“You do?”

She nodded.

“I think I fell in love with you in the elevator when you hyperventilated into that paper bag.”

“And I fell in love with you when I discovered you’d been winding me up about Bialystock joints and Ulla oscillators.”

“I was so proud of that,” he chuckled. “So, do you think you can cope with me being rich?”

“Dan, you need to understand that my problem with Toby wasn’t that he was rich per se; it was his snobbishness and all his dreadful friends. You are the kindest, most
unaffected person I’ve ever met. And your dad’s great, too. Of course I can cope with you being rich.”