Someone Like You (43 page)

Later that evening when she and Pete were cuddled together in front of the fire chatting, Emma brought the subject up again. ‘You don’t think I should say anything to Dad, do you?’

‘I don’t know, love. Your father would certainly be the sort of man who’d kill the messenger who brought him the bad news. It’d be your fault she was sick, you know that. He’d never forgive you.’

Emma nodded in agreement. ‘You’re right. I just wish someone else had experienced Mum acting strangely and not just me. If Kirsten had seen … ‘

‘Forget about Kirsten,’ interrupted Pete. ‘I know she’s your sister and everything, but she’s so flaky it’s unbelievable. Kirsten wants everything in her garden to be rosy and this doesn’t fit in with her plans. If she didn’t have Patrick to look after her, God knows what’d happen to her.’

Remembering how angry Patrick had appeared with her sister earlier and how furious he must have been the previous day to drag her out of bed to spend time with the O’Briens, Emma had the feeling that the worm was beginning to turn.

And if Patrick did decide he’d had enough of Kirsten’s histrionics, then life was going to be very rocky in their household.

Stop it! Emma told herself crossly. Stop worrying about Kirsten. Kirsten wouldn’t give ten seconds to thinking about anyone else’s problems. It was a skill Emma wished she could develop.

She was sick of worrying about her family: let them look after themselves. She was going to enjoy her time off with Pete. She stretched her bare feet out towards the burning coals and yawned languorously, snuggling up closer to Pete.

‘How do you fancy going to bed early?’ she murmured.

In response, he nibbled her ear gently and slid a hand down to open the top button of her blouse. ‘Or how about we don’t bother going to bed early but stay in front of the fire?’

‘Brilliant idea,’ his wife replied. There was something so sensual about lovemaking in front of an open fire. It reminded her of when they’d been engaged and never managed to get any time on their own together. Back then they used to wait until everyone in the Sheridan household had gone to bed and then they’d cuddled up in front of the huge fire, growing more and more passionate but too scared to let go and make love in case someone coming downstairs for a drink of water caught them in a compromising position.

They’d never tried that in Emma’s home: she’d have :

been in a state of constant fear that her father would appear at the sitting-room door with a shotgun and a Bible in his hand. But they’d had some wonderfully torrid sessions in Pete’s house.

Time to rekindle that old, easygoing lovemaking, Emma thought as Pete gently opened her buttons. That had been a time when her only worry about impending motherhood had been that she’d get pregnant before the wedding. She was determined to let go of her constant thoughts about a baby: that was to be her New Year’s resolution. She’d never have a baby if she became obsessed with it. From now on, that obsession was in the past. She and Pete had to enjoy whatever their marriage brought. If that meant no babies, then so be it.

It was ten days after Christmas and Leonie was used to her new haircut now. Mind you, she thought, running a hand through the shorter, layered style that seemed to sit better, she’d never be able to afford to have all that done again. Having your hair cut and mesh-dyed cost a bloody fortune. Still, it Was nice to have honey-gold hair with tawny brown streaks running through it. It looked almost natural. The girls had been most impressed.

‘Mum, it’s beautiful,’ Mel had said, almost in surprise.

To go with her new hairdo, she’d bought some new clothes. Hannah had been great advising her about what to bring, especially for travelling.

‘Don’t waste something dressy on the-plane,’ she’d advised. ‘It’s Fliss and Ray you want to impress, not the people on the jumbo. Change when you get to Denver if you want to, but wear something baggy and comfy for the trip across the Atlantic’

Hannah was very shrewd, Leonie acknowledged. She instinctively knew that looking good when she met Ray and his fiancee was of paramount importance to her. Pride was a terrible thing, Leonie reflected, as the air stewardess ran through the safety checks and the twins sat clutching each other delightedly.

They were so excited about the trip, it was contagious.

Leonie found herself sitting back happily, content because she had a nice fat detective novel in her handbag for the flight and had got the doctor to give her four tranquillizers to cope with her fear of flying. They were working - so far.

Danny had somehow managed to get himself allocated a seat apart from the rest of the family, one row ahead, beside an attractive girl in faded jeans. Just so he wouldn’t get above himself, Mel and Abby had been making loud remarks about how his girlfriend must be missing him and how he’d promised to save himself for her.

He had to keep turning back to shoot them daggers looks and the naughty pair convulsed with mirth every time, keeping silent for about one minute before resuming their conversation about how lovely his fictitious girlfriend was. Leonie grinned but told them to keep their voices down. What a pair.

She hoped they’d calm down a bit in Colorado or she’d have a manic time trying to keep an eye on them. With the twins behaving as hyperactively as if they’d been slugging down fifteen cans of Coke each, she couldn’t see them giving her much time for relaxation. Well, their father and their new stepmother could take over for a while, Leonie decided, opening her handbag and extracting her P.D.

James novel.

She was going to relax. And if she felt stressed at any time, Emma had given her a little bottle of herbal Rescue Remedy. Leonie remembered Emma having it with her in Egypt. She swore by it. Just to be on the safe side, Leonie put a few drops of the remedy on her tongue, wincing at the slightly alcoholic taste.

In the toilets in Denver airport, Leonie decided against another dose of Rescue Remedy. She’d taken so much, Ray and Fliss would think she was drunk if she had any more.

The flight to Atlanta had been a nightmare. It didn’t matter how calmly Danny had explained that turbulence wasn’t dangerous, it was merely the plane flying through a particular type of air current or something like that, she still felt as if she was going to have to scream with sheer terror every time the plane wobbled. It felt like being in a whale’s belly, a whale who was in training for one of those public aquariums where they jumped up and down through hoops for the audience. Did whales do that, or was it only sharks and dolphins? Leonie didn’t know. All she knew was that if she had to endure any more turbulence, she’d die. She hated flying. Why the hell had she allowed herself to be convinced to come on this trip? Amazingly, the twins and most of the rest of the passengers had slept through the storm. After dinner and a Bruce Willis film, they’d all happily dozed off, making the most of the night-time flight to sleep. Leonie had sat rigidly in her seat, unable to read, sleep, or even listen to the moronic comedy hour on the airline headsets. Three little bottles of wine hadn’t helped at all: if anything, they’d made her feel even more paranoid and convinced the plane was about to drop like a stone from the sky.

Half an hour before they arrived in Atlanta, the turbulence disappeared and people woke up. ‘Are we nearly there?’ asked Mel, stretching sleepily.

They’d had a wait of an hour and three-quarters in Atlanta before boarding the plane for Denver, and Leonie spent most of that time convincing herself that air travel was the safest in the world and that it’d be stone mad to even think about hiring a car to drive to Colorado.

‘Jeez, Mum, relax will you,’ said Danny, who wasn’t impressed by this lack of cool from his mother.

Thanks to Mel’s frantic desire for even more new clothes, they had nearly missed the plane. Five minutes before boarding, she had disappeared and Leonie had to double back and look in all the shops for her. She’d found Mel in a chic boutique investigating designer sunglasses that cost more than Leonie’s entire outfit.

‘God, Mum, they’re lovely. And much cheaper than back home. Couldn’t you lend me the money, pleeease?

Dad’ll give it to you.’

‘No,’ hissed Leonie. ‘Everyone else is on the plane.

They’re calling our names, so come on!’

It was, therefore, a tired and weary woman who arrived with her charges in Denver. They were all happy and excited; Leonie felt as if she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards and, looking at herself in an unforgivingly enormous mirror in the luggage hall ladies’ loo, she discovered she looked like it too.

What had Hannah suggested to her? Bright lipstick and throw on that silky red sweater so you’ll look vibrant no matter how tired you are. It had sounded great when Hannah said it but, under the current circumstances, Leonie decided that messing around with lipstick and red sweaters would merely highlight her exhausted, red rimmed eyes. Then again, perhaps matching your eyes with your sweater would be seen as a plus. A sort of colour coordination thing.

Fliss and Ray were meeting them. Originally, Leonie had protested that of course she and the kids would get to Vail on their own.

‘It can’t be that difficult,’ she’d told Ray loftily. ‘There are shuttle buses, I believe. I’m sure we can manage.’

But she was glad now they were being picked up. She couldn’t face negotiating another journey, sorting out which bus they wanted and piling luggage on to it.

Unfortunately, being collected by the soon-to-be-happily-marrieds had its disadvantages: they’d see her in this state. She unscrewed her lipstick and slicked some on before struggling into her red sweater. It was a small improvement, she decided wearily.

Danny had manfully collected all their luggage. ‘What have you got in there, Mel, a dead body?’ he grumbled, hoisting the final suitcase on top of the overloaded trolley.

‘We don’t all want to look like backpackers, you know,’

Mel replied snootily. ‘I’ve just brought a few things.’

‘Oh yeah, like a few trowels to slap all your makeup on,’ he retorted.

So it was squabbling as usual that the family emerged from customs into the bright glare of the arrivals hall.

‘Dad! I see Dad!’ squealed Mel excitedly. She ran through the crowds with Abby, and Danny pushed the trolley rapidly after them. Reluctantly, Leonie followed.

She slowed down. Let them all say hello to each other before she got there. She needed a few moments to prepare herself. A group of people barged in front of her, momentarily separating her from the others. Leonie waited patiently for the group to pass. She hadn’t seen Ray for two years and felt a bit anxious about meeting him now.

A large man in front of her moved and, through the gap in the crowd, she could see her children finally reach their father and his fiancee. The joy with which they all greeted each other took her breath away. Ray looked happier than she’d ever seen him: he’d filled out, wasn’t as thin as he used to be. His dark hair was greying, but he was tanned and looked wonderful, just like the slender, vibrant woman at his side. Fliss was even better looking in the flesh than she was in the photos from the kids’ summer holidays.

Dressed in denims and a butter-coloured suede jacket, she was lightly tanned and, when she smiled, her teeth were gleaming white against her glowing skin. The short dark hair that had looked like a boyish cut in the photos was now longer but still casually chic. That was the word for Fliss, Leonie decided: chic. Watching them all from her hidden vantage point, Leonie felt like the interloper, the spectre at the feast.

Ray and Fliss could have been the kids’ parents, not Leonie and Ray. They were all laughing and smiling, hugging each other. Ray was saying, ‘You’ve got bigger, Danny, I swear!’ Mel even looked like Fliss: the same long limbs, the same careless beauty. Fliss rested her hand on Abby’s waist and Leonie was horrified to see that Abby was smiling radiantly. Jealousy curled around Leonie’s heart like a starving boa constrictor clutching a small animal.

They were her children, yet they were smiling at this woman with love and affection. And yes, Leonie could see it in all their eyes, admiration.

‘Leonie! There you are!’ Ray bypassed the group in front of her and hugged her warmly. ‘You look wonderful. It’s so great to see you. Come and meet Fliss.’

He must need to visit the optician, Leonie thought grimly as she was led round to meet Fliss. You look wonderful, my ass.

Fliss didn’t grab Leonie in a bear hug. Instead, she smiled what seemed like a very genuine smile, held out her hand and said: ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last, Leonie. I’m so glad you could make it.’

Leonie smiled back and said, yes, it was lovely to meet her and what a lovely place Denver was and God, but she could kill a cup of tea or the chance to put her feet up, she was so exhausted.

Listening to herself, she realized with disgust that she sounded like some cardboard Irish woman from a terrible play, the stereotypical solid old bag with an emerald-green headscarf and an Aran sweater who kept saying, ‘Begod, America’s a fine spot and sure, put the kettle on there and boil up some spuds.’ What was happening to her? Where was the sophisticate she’d planned to be? Why had she been replaced by an auto-pilot parody of an Irishwoman?

‘I’m so sorry, forgive me. You must be exhausted, Leonie,’ Fliss said instantly. ‘Come along, guys, we’ve got to give your mom a rest. Danny, there’s a vending machine over there. Here’s a dollar, get your mom a hot drink.’ She handed him some change and he obediently went off.

Leonie stared at him. Getting Danny to do anything without a ten-minute interval of grumbling was impossible. How had Fliss managed it when she, his mother, couldn’t?

‘Ray, honey, we’re parked a long way off so if you get the Jeep, Leonie and I’ll wait for you with the luggage that way she won’t have to walk all the way round the lot to get to it,’ Fliss commanded.

He rushed off to do her bidding too and Leonie found herself standing with Fliss at the entrance to the parking lot, sipping a plastic cup of something that didn’t taste as if a tealeaf had ever even swum through it. The girls chattered nineteen to the dozen to Fliss while Danny lounged beside her, only saying anything when a particularly nice car drove past.