Persuading Annie (24 page)

‘Have you heard?’ interrupted Victoria. ‘There might be wedding bells soon?’

‘Ooh goodie,’ said Cass. She loved gossip, especially happy gossip. ‘Who?’

‘Sophie and that Jake Mead.’

Annie felt the room shoot off in the distance, leaving her in a dark thumping vacuum. Cass put her hand near Annie’s on the table and gently probed Victoria.

‘But they’ve only been together for a couple of weeks. How do you know?’

‘Mummy—’ said Bertie.

‘Well,’ started Victoria, ignoring Bertie. ‘Apparently Sophie phoned Fi last night and asked her how she would feel about doing a double wedding.’ Victoria grinned and sat back proudly.

‘Oh my God,’ said Cass.

‘Mummy, can I—’

‘Jake was besotted with Sophie even before the accident,’ rushed Victoria. ‘And it’s all got very intense since. He’s not getting any younger and she’s as keen as anything. You often find older men having whirlwind romances. They’ve sewn all their oats and recognise the right woman when she comes along. It’s so romantic – her being so weak and everything. I knew this would happen. I said so as soon as they met.’

Annie was too worried about her sudden double vision to worry about contradicting her sister.

‘Mummy, I need—’

‘I’m talking, Bertie. See? Mummy’s lips are moving and noise is coming out. Be a good boy and stop whining, or I’ll cut you out of my will.’

She turned back to her captive audience. She hadn’t expected the news to have had quite as dramatic an effect on Cass as it had.

Then she grimaced and sniffed. She looked disapprovingly at Bertie.

‘Bertie,’ she said in a tone you could cut stone with, ‘have you done a doo-doo in your pants?’

Nope, thought Annie, through the humming in her ears. That’ll be me.

Victoria rolled her eyes, picked up a bag full of spare trousers and underpants and took him off. What was going on with Bertie? He seemed to potty-train so well. Was he going to have to go back into nappies? She didn’t think she could bear it.

Cass and Annie sat in silence, one stunned by the news, the other stunned by its effect on her.

Finally Cass spoke.

‘Be fair to Bertie,’ she muttered. ‘If Victoria was threatened to be cut out of her father’s will for whining, she’d probably crap herself too.’

Annie saw Cass’s lips move but just heard noise.

Ten minutes later, Victoria was back. She plumped herself down on her chair, not looking at Bertie.

‘Would anyone like a small child?’ she asked. ‘Going free? Once potty trained, now regressing – particularly if you abuse it by attempting to have a life of your own?’

To her chagrin neither Cass nor Annie laughed.

‘Are you sure you should talk about Bertie like that?’ asked Cass, winking fondly at Bertie. ‘I’m sure he’s the cleverest boy in the world so he can understand every word you say.’

Victoria smarted.

‘Thank you Cass,’ she replied. ‘I don’t need to be told how to look after my own son.’ She let him go and he hurtled straight into the waiter’s knees. The waiter smiled painfully and kept on walking. Bertie busied himself opening a closed pram at the table opposite.

Victoria suddenly felt thunderous. How dare Cass invite herself along and then make her feel like an idiot. How come she always did that? How dare she? What did she know about motherhood? After all, Cass had had years of carefree, selfish, moneyed irresponsibility compared to her own quagmire of responsible, budgeted motherhood.

Meanwhile Cass could barely think for seething. She had forced herself to come out with Victoria only because the prospect of staying at home, waiting for her body to accept or reject the embryos inside it, was too much for her to bear. Every morning for the past two weeks, she’d woken up waiting for a timebomb to go off in her body. She could hardly breathe for worrying about losing this potential baby and this … this … spoilt girl had two beautiful, healthy boys she seemed to hate.

Annie was so horribly aware of how they were both feeling that she could almost hear their thoughts, like broken glass in her head. She sat back in her chair, knocked out by all the different emotions going on inside her. Sometimes she felt as though her skin was made from a different texture to other people’s. It was more porous, as if every millimetre of her body soaked up other people’s seeping emotions. Sometimes, like now, there were so many people under her own skin, there was barely enough room for her. But today her own pain only added to it, so that she felt weighed down by it all. The perfect mood for lunch out with the girls.

‘Are you ready to order?’ asked the waiter.

No, none of them was ready to order. He’d come back in a moment.

‘It’s bloody hard being a mother you know,’ said Victoria in a brittle voice.

‘Have I said it wasn’t?’ asked Cass.

‘I don’t get a moment to myself. My life isn’t my own any more—’

‘Have you ever had their salmon steaks here?’ asked Annie. ‘They’re surprisingly good.’

‘And I haven’t slept a whole night through for more than five years.’

‘Neither have I,’ said Cass, unimpressed. ‘Brutus snores and I have a small bladder.’

‘Or perhaps their steak tartare?’

‘Small bladder! Until you’ve had a baby you don’t know the meaning of a small bladder,’ scoffed Victoria. ‘Try three hours’ sleep every night for a few months. You’ll dream of only having to put up with Brutus’s snoring.’

‘I never said I have to put up with Brutus’s snoring. I like it. I obviously don’t need as much sleep as you do.’

‘Ooh look, they’ve got gnocci!’

‘And then there’s the Repetitive Game Syndrome. If I’ve played racing cars with Harry once I’ve played it with him 3,000 times. I’m telling you, motherhood is the most boring job in the world – and at the same time, the most responsible job in the world. Like pairing God’s socks.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Cass finally, slamming her menu down on the table. ‘But did
I
make you pregnant?’

Victoria was nonplussed for a moment.

‘Don’t be disgusting,’ she muttered.

‘Well, did I?’

‘Of course not,’ Victoria tried to scoff.

‘Well then,’ said Cass. ‘I’d
so
appreciate it if you didn’t try and make me feel guilty for your choice of motherhood.’

Victoria was speechless with fury.

‘Are you ready to order?’ asked the waiter.

‘NO!’ they shouted in unison.

* * * * *

It had been a brainwave of genius proportions to bring up the subject of New York. Annie felt sure it would be the one subject on which Cass and Victoria would both agree. She was right. And at the same time it might actually cheer her up. Well, two out of three wasn’t bad. All tension was temporarily swept under the carpet, while the two women shared numerous memories, hints, vital names and facts about the city.

‘That’s arranged then,’ said Cass. ‘I’ll see you there for Thanksgiving.’

‘Excellent!’ said Victoria. ‘We can all get outfits there for the double wedding.’

Annie’s stomach burrowed into the floor.

* * * * *

One short week later it was all arranged. Annie, Charles and Victoria were off to New York that week, to stay with George, Katherine and Davina in the family apartment on the Upper East side overlooking Central Park, until the New Year. Annie couldn’t get there fast enough.

Harry and Bertie would stay with Charles’s parents and then join them all out there for the fortnight lead-up to Christmas.

Tony and Fi were already out there, meeting Tony’s family and buying wedding clothes and a trousseau. Cass and Brutus would come over with Susannah for Christmas. Edward had already flown out for the first of many meetings with George.

They would all be there together for New Year. By which time, Cass would be two months’ pregnant with her triplets.

18

ANNIE LOOKED UP
at the clock from her bed. It was 5 am. She yawned silently, anxious not to disturb Joy who was on a call in the room next door. It had been an exceptionally quiet night – the longest call being from someone who was beside themselves with hurt and anger after being rejected by the Samaritans as a possible volunteer.

When Annie first started doing her regular nightshift at the Samaritans, it used to worry her that she found it so much more pleasurable waking up there than at home, but now she just accepted it as part of her perverse nature.

She didn’t tell any of her family – not even Cass – about her work at the Sams. She knew they wouldn’t understand. They’d think she was a do-gooder, instead of just another shallow person selfishly trying to find meaning in their otherwise utterly meaningless life. The Sams brought Annie what new shoes brought to Victoria: a short burst of feel-good factor that inevitably wore off almost immediately. In fact, Annie felt better about her life the worse the caller’s predicament was – go figure, as Tony would say. She felt like a frustrated child when the callers didn’t fall over themselves
to thank her for her wonderful listening skills. ‘You’re very clever, aren’t you? You’ve really helped me, you know … I think you’re wonderful … Ooh, now that’s a good question …’ If only all these sad, desperate people knew when they called the Samaritans,
they
were helping
her
…

Nope, there was nothing selfless in her being a Samaritan.

But try telling that to her family.

She knew that she’d miss this place more than anything else about her life in London. It was a weird thought that the next time she’d wake up here it would be a new year.

She stretched her arms behind her head and then looked out of the window, allowing her mind to do its usual morning jog, while half listening out for the phone. Why was she feeling so spectacularly low this morning?

She decided to mull it over, give it time, think it through thoroughly.

At first, it was just an uncomfortable presence in the back of her mind, like the unnerving sensation that creeps up on you just before you realise there’s a two-foot wide spider in the corner watching you dress. And then the irrefutable fact of its grows so undeniably real that suddenly, without even swivelling your eyes in their sweaty sockets, you know, not only that the spider is there, but that it’s smiling. And now you have a simple choice. Either you can run away as fast as the wind – probably thumping into the doorpost on the way through blind terror – or you never move again.

And so it was with Jake. Finally, with a sinking heart, Annie understood that, like a two-foot wide smiling spider in the corner watching her dress, her feelings for Jake were an irrefutable fact of her life. Hot-tempered, proud and immature. And under her skin more than a swollen tic. He was in her bloodstream, flowing through her veins, pumping
into her heart and out again, breathing life and purpose into her nerves and fibres. Like depression, she realised, love had nothing to do with rational thought or mental control. It was an emotional virus that entered and left the body of its own accord. And she’d been playing host to it for a long time.

And she had a simple choice. She could run like the wind or never move again.

Defeated, she bent her heavy head down. The ugly truth of it was that it was irrelevant how imperfect Jake was. What mattered was that he felt the same about her as she did about him.

Which, seeing as he was about to marry into her family, seemed unlikely.

Her simple choice became simpler still.

She had to run away as fast as the wind.

Thank God she was going to New York in a matter of days. She realised that the only way she could cope with Jake marrying Sophie would be for her to stay out there.

Exhausted by too many emotional truths in one morning, she looked up at a poster advertising the Samaritans. A woman sat on a park bench on her own, surrounded by people out together feeding the ducks, pushing children on the swings, kissing. The woman’s face was a picture of silent, aching despair.

Depressed? Lonely? Let down? Confused? Heartbroken?
asked the poster.

Yep, thought Annie. Thank you for clarifying. Oh well. At least I’m in the right place.

Her mind tortured itself by dwelling on nasty thoughts. Sophie and Jake were probably already discussing their table plan with Fi and Tony. Would she have to go on the top table? The wedding would be in a grand hotel, Harry and
Bertie would be page boys. She would be chief old maid. Would she have to get a special dress for that role?

How was Jake supposed to save her family now, when he had wedding plans to make? Hardly professional, was it, to get emotionally involved with his client’s family – when they were paying him three grand a day to give them his all? Typical. (How well anger temporarily obliterated pain, thought Annie, as she got out of bed and went to clean her teeth. Angrily.)

When she came back into the room, feeling fusty from three hour’s bad sleep, she found Joy sitting bolt upright in her chair, blinking wearily up at the ceiling.

‘How was your shift?’

Joy rolled her head round slowly. ‘The usual. The odd pervert, a couple of depressives, one mad man and a double glazing rep.’

‘A good night then.’

‘No complaints.’

‘Coffee?’

Joy turned to her. ‘Shit. You look terrible.’

‘Thanks.’

‘What happened to you in the night? A visitation from the Ghost of Christmas Past?’

‘More like the Future.’

‘Well, let me make the coffee. I’m not leaving you alone with a kettle flex.’

Annie sat down in the silent room and curled up in her chair. When the phone rang, it seemed harsher than usual.

‘Hello, Samaritans.’ It came out as a guttural expletive.

There was a pause and then someone spoke quietly and hesitatingly.

‘Oh. I … I thought I was phoning for a pizza.’

Oh dear. Her irate foghorn tone must have put them off. Some people were so touchy.

‘And … how are you feeling?’ Now she sounded impatient.

A pause. ‘Hungry.’

Click.

Good, thought Annie. No room for empathy or sympathy today. Body and mind too full of pain.

As she was replacing the receiver, the phone went again.