Part 36 (1/2)

Ignoring her, he went over to the drawer where his mother kept the clean hand-towels. He pulled one out and dried his hands roughly, and still with his back to Maxine, hunted through his pockets for something to blow his nose on.

'Here, try this.'

He turned round; Maxine was holding out some kitchen roll towards him. He took it but was careful not to look at her. 'Thanks,' he muttered. 'Sorry to let the side down. You never did like seeing me when I was upset, did you? In your eyes men should behave like real men. As your father did.' His tone was bitter.

'As usual, your biting cynicism isn't far from the truth.'

'And?'

She shrugged wearily, and once again he realised how changed she was. There was little evidence of the determined and ambitious Maxine in her face. She looked haggard, thoroughly defeated.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'old habits die hard. I keep having a go at you, and I shouldn't. Not now when we're going through - '

She raised her hands. 'No, please, don't say any more.' She looked terrified that he might offer her sympathy.

It upset him to think how divided and entrenched they'd become. How could they have created a beautiful child like Suzie, only to end up hating each other? Surely, for Suzie's sake, they could learn to be kinder to one another. Couldn't they? Emboldened, he decided to test the water. 'Maxine,' he said softly, 'do you think it's possible that we - ?'

But once again, she cut him off. 'If you're tired of was.h.i.+ng, I'll take over and you can dry.'

Taking his cue, he thought better of what he'd nearly said. Perhaps it was hopeless anyway. They'd probably left it too late.

Chapter Fifty-Five.

It had rained steadily over Christmas, but the day after Boxing Day, the sky suddenly brightened, and seeing as she was off work until January, Harriet phoned the estate agent to ask if she could borrow the key to number one Lock Cottage to do some measuring. She wanted to make sure there wouldn't be any last-minute surprises, such as discovering her bed wouldn't fit up the stairs.

The biggest surprise of the move so far was how much Carrie was looking forward to it. To Harriet's amazement her niece spoke of little else and was constantly on at Harriet about when she could invite her new friends to see the cottage and when they could have their first sleepover. Harriet viewed this enthusiasm with a mixture of relief and horror; it was good that Carrie had now made friends at school, but the thought of having to entertain them on a regular basis scared her rigid.

As was to be expected, Joel was more reticent about the move. Harriet had lost count how many times he had asked her how he would get home from school. It was as if he had a mental block on the subject. His anxiety was contagious and whenever Harriet found herself beginning to worry too much about her nephew, she reminded herself of something Will had once told her; that as soon as Joel had made a special friend at school, everything would come together for him and he'd feel more settled and secure. Will had been right on so many other matters when it came to the children, she hoped he was right on this one. It really mattered to her that Joel was happy. He wasn't a strong, resilient child the way Carrie was; he was quiet and sensitive and too p.r.o.ne to introversion. He was entirely his father's child, Harriet had come to realise.

Harriet had seen Will only twice during the Christmas period, and that was when he came and went from his house. Mum had wanted to invite him over for a drink, but Harriet had begged her not to. Seeing Will floundering over a gla.s.s of wine and a flaky cheese straw in their sitting room would have been too much. 'It's far too soon to expect him to be sociable,' she'd told Eileen.

'I'm not expecting him to be sociable,' her mother had said, 'but it seems wrong to leave him out in the cold, as though we don't care.'

'He knows we care, Mum. Just leave him be until New Year.'

Their own Christmas had, of course, been overshadowed by Felicity and Jeff's absence, and Harriet knew that at times her parents had struggled to keep a brave face on the proceedings. It was particularly palpable when it came to the children opening their presents. Felicity had had a rule with Carrie and Joel that they could have their stockings as soon as they were awake, but the rest of the presents had to be kept until after lunch. Eileen had decided to stick with this tradition, but when the children were sitting expectantly round the tree, their hands itching to root out something with their name on it, Harriet's father had left the room abruptly.

'It was their faces,' he told Harriet later, when he was helping her to make some ham sandwiches for tea. 'There was such joy and excitement in their expressions. And poor Felicity not here to see it. It's so b.l.o.o.d.y unfair. It's like they've forgotten her already, as though she never mattered to them.'

'They'll never forget their mother,' Harriet had said, quick to defend her niece and nephew. 'They're just adapting faster than us. Perhaps we should take a leaf out of their book.'

These had been almost the only words exchanged between Harriet and her father since she had learned of his double life, and she could muster up little sympathy for him. Mum had said she mustn't judge him too harshly, that his behaviour was a reflection of the depth of his grief, but it simply wasn't in her to offer him any consolation. The rest of them were coping; why couldn't he?

The children had wanted to come and help her measure up at the house, and just as they were climbing into the back of her car, a voice had Harriet turning round. She hadn't seen either Miles or Dominic since the evening at Novel Ways, but here was Dominic coming towards her. 'Just the person I wanted to see,' he said. 'Are you on your way out or coming back?'

'Going out.'

'Anywhere interesting?'

'Yes, my new house.'

'Excellent. I'll come with you.'

She moved away from the car so that the children couldn't hear her. 'Firstly,' she said, 'you're not coming anywhere with me until you've apologised. Secondly, who says I want you to see my new house?'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Good G.o.d, Harriet, you're quite magnificent when you're angry. It's enough to make a gay man straight! Here, let me kiss you to see if you're the answer every fundamentalist Christian out there has been praying for.'

He put his gloved hands on her shoulders but she pushed him away roughly. 'Don't even think about it.'

'Ah, not even a little kiss? It is the season of good will, after all. Besides, I'm told my technique is something to behold.'

'Well hold onto it yourself; I'm not interested. So how about that apology?'

'It would help if I knew what it was I'm supposed to be sorry about. Remind me what heinous crime I've committed. Don't tell me your stultifying priggishness didn't appreciate the card I pushed through your letterbox. Is that what I've done wrong?'

Staggered at his glibness, she tightened her scarf around her throat. She was also blus.h.i.+ng at the thought of the card he'd sent - a picture of two naked men having s.e.x in the snow. Definitely not one for the mantelpiece! But only Dominic could pretend that scene in the wine bar had never happened. 'I suggest you cast your mind back to last week when I threw my drink in your face,' she said, 'and in particular, the reason why I did it.'

'Surely you're not still cross about that? A silly off-the-cuff remark about my little bro fancying you?'

She looked at him hard. 'You called me frigid.'

'Did I?'

'You did.'

'And is that what you want me to apologise for? For you having an underdeveloped s.e.xuality? Not for my teasing you about Miles swapping his affections from one sister to another? Which was, I admit, rather cruel of me, but I wanted to see the look on his face. By the way, presumably you've now proved me right; that it was Miles with whom Felicity was having an affair?'

Having no intention of letting him off by being side-tracked, Harriet said, 'Dominic, I'm warning you. You apologise to me, right now. Or I'll - '

'Or what?' he interrupted her. 'What will you do, Harriet?' He suddenly flung his arms out wide. 'What can anyone do to me?' To her horror and amazement, he started to cry, and lurching towards her, he wept uninhibitedly, his sobs catching in his throat.

Stunned, and wondering if he'd been drinking, Harriet stood in his arms not knowing what to do. She tried to slip out of his grasp. 'Dominic,' she said. 'Please stop. The children. You'll upset them.'

To her relief he let go of her abruptly, almost flinging her away. But with his head back, his face open to the sky and tears streaming down his cheeks, he said, 'I don't give a d.a.m.n about anyone else. Don't you understand I'm beyond that? ... Please let me come and see your new house.' He was pleading with her.

What could she do but give in? She bundled him into the pa.s.senger seat of her Mini, hoping that he'd stop crying so that the children wouldn't ask what was wrong with him.

But he didn't stop crying, and they did ask what was wrong with him.

'Dominic's not feeling well,' she explained as they hurtled down Maple Drive and he leaned against the pa.s.senger window, his face partially hidden behind a handkerchief.

'Has he got flu like Will?' asked Joel.

'Would he like a sweet?' asked Carrie, leaning forward and offering a paper bag of Edna's pick'n'mix.

By the time they'd picked up the key from the estate agent and had driven on to the house, Dominic had calmed down. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured, when at Harriet's instruction the children had taken the keys and gone round to the back of the cottage. 'I warned you in Dublin that I was losing it.'