Part 36 (1/2)

'I know, I'm sorry.'

Brigita tutted. 'That Mr Charlie he is a hero. I give him a cup of tea. He asks if you have any photos of your mother. I say I don't think so.'

'Really?' Did Charlie want to be matched up with Louise? It seemed unlikely. But Poppy had more important things to worry about for the moment.

With Brigita's reprimand ringing in her ears, Poppy stayed in on Sat.u.r.day night. She planned to have a couple of drinks in front of the telly. Having recently started this habit she couldn't believe she hadn't embraced it years ago. But there was no booze in the house, so frustrated, she'd gone to bed early and woke on Sunday feeling unusually clear-headed. Miraculously, Clara was still asleep, so she lay staring at the c.h.i.n.k of light peeking round the edge of the curtain, wondering if Luke was coming home. He'd texted her saying he was staying with friends and thinking about what to do next.

The fact her husband couldn't even bring himself to speak to her angered her so much she resolved not to reply. Luke must despise her, she thought, to make so little effort. She was sick of making all the running. She knew she'd been an idiot to tell Migsy about Minnie, but Luke had done her a greater wrong by marrying her when he didn't love her.

Her thoughts turned to Toby. He was no better. He'd been so cold towards her on Friday night, she had got the message. All the stories Meena had shared with her over the years about one-night stands, stories which had sounded like jolly escapades, took on a new, harsher resonance. Meena had always made it sound like a bit of a lark, but a lot of it must have hurt like h.e.l.l. Of course Poppy had been treated badly before, but that was years ago when she was a schoolgirl. Because her experience of single life had been so brief she hadn't really understood how brutal it could be, how strangely men could behave.

But even though Toby had hurt her, Poppy couldn't honestly say he'd broken her heart. She'd been strongly attracted to him, but she barely knew him. She'd just been flattered that he'd obviously felt the same way about her. All the same, it wounded her that he seemed to be able to take or leave her just as Meena could let a Mars Bar sit in the fridge for days without touching it.

'Mummeee!'

'Hi, darling,' Poppy rolled over, relieved to see her daughter's pink morning face staring into hers. 'Come into bed with me.'

They were lying together, flicking through old magazines, discussing the colours they liked best, when Poppy's phone rang.

'Heeeey!' Why did Meena always sound so d.a.m.n perky? 'G.o.d, Poppy you're really famous now.'

'What do you mean?'

'It's all over the Sunday papers my husband's a stupid c.u.n.t.' Meena giggled. 'Of course they've asterisked out the C word but you don't exactly have to be Stephen Hawking to guess what it might be. I hope my mum doesn't see it. She's on at me a lot right now asking if you're a suitable friend.' When Poppy didn't reply, Meena continued a little more apprehensively. 'Luke must be p.i.s.sed off.'

'I don't know what Luke is.' Poppy's voice was hollow. 'I haven't seen him.'

'You haven't seen him? What? You mean he's left?'

'It looks like it.'

'Oh. Do you want me to come over?'

'Yes, please.' There was a pause, then Poppy said, 'Meena, I'm so sad. I've f.u.c.ked everything up and now I'm going to be a single mum.'

'Hey, hey! Don't worry. What's wrong with being a single mum? You and Clara, you'll be like Kate Moss and little Lila Grace. It'll be cool.'

'What, you mean I'll just go out and party all the time and never see my daughter?' Poppy wanted a drink to steady her nerves, but it wasn't even lunch time yet.

'Of course you'll see your daughter. You'll just sue the a.r.s.e off any photographer who prints her picture and that way you'll get rich. Anyway, don't fret, Pops. I'll be over as soon as I've had a shower and got dressed. Take me what? three hours?'

Poppy looked out of the window. Yesterday the photographers had vanished, but overnight they had reappeared and were standing around examining lenses, drinking coffee and b.i.t.c.hing about how up themselves EastEnders EastEnders' actors were. Horrified, Poppy stepped back behind the curtains. There was no way she was going to face them. Instead, she went into Luke's office and turned on the computer and went online. Once acquainted with the latest coverage, she covered her face with her hands.

'What have I done?'

'My favourite colour is pink, red, purple, orange, blue,' Clara said at her feet.

Although, childishly, she'd been trying not to call Luke, her resistance crumbled. Somewhat to her surprise, he answered.

'Where are you?' she asked. In the background she could hear the noise of a television. No other clues.

'Just staying with a friend from work.'

'Anyone I know?' Poppy asked blandly.

'No, n.o.body,' Luke snapped, then more contritely, 'How's Clara?'

'She's fine. Clara come and talk to Daddy.'

427.

'No, Daddy, go 'way!' said Clara, who was disembowelling a toy racc.o.o.n.

'Sorry.' Poppy paused. 'So when are you coming back?' Into the silence, she asked, 'h.e.l.lo? Are you still there?'

'I'm still here,' he said eventually.

'Luke, I know we've really messed things up but we do need to at least talk. For Clara's sake.'

'I know.'

'So when are we going to do that?'

'I'm not sure. Give me a few days to think about things.'

'All right,' said Poppy. She was about to hang up, when Luke added, 'You wouldn't wa.t me anyway. Now I'm unemployed. I'm not the rich, successful man you married any more.'

'I didn't marry you for your job. I married you because I loved you.' Poppy hung up feeling as if she'd been stung. She thought she was becoming immune to pain but obviously not.

'Mummy, why you crying? Don't cry.'

45.

Several days pa.s.sed. Miraculously, Thea was told that she wouldn't be blamed for the Minnie debacle.

'If Luke can't keep his potty mouth shut that's his fault, not mine,' said Dean. 'And, anyway, it brought in amazing viewing figures. So just f.u.c.k off and try to find some more tantrummy divas to throw water over Marco or tell Emma she shouldn't wear such low-cut tops.'

Luke showed no sign of moving out of Thea's flat. While she was at work, he went out and bought a toothbrush and shaving gear, some socks and underwear, a pair of trousers, a couple of s.h.i.+rts. He hung them in the wardrobe squas.h.i.+ng Thea's clothes and at the end of the day, he chucked them in the laundry basket. On Thursday morning, he got cross.

'I don't have any clean pants,' he complained, as Thea pulled on her jacket and picked up her keys.

'Sorry?'

'I've run out of clean boxer shorts. Didn't you wash any?'

Thea was aghast. 'Er, no. Didn't you?'