I can see the conservatory which leads off from the kitchen is littered with bits of paper, paint and discarded drawings. ‘Aren’t you using your studio?’
Daniel built her a studio in the garden for her work. Of course he did.
‘The cold,’ says Beth. ‘My fingers are going numb in there. Sometimes a change of scenery helps.’
‘But not at the moment?’
‘Nothing helps at the moment.’ Beth looks rueful. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure? Mum and Dad, I assume? Sorry, I should have come before.’
I’ve actually been surprised that Beth hasn’t been over more. She’s often complained to me that Mum expects her to be at her beck and call. Now that there’s a real crisis, and I happen to be around, she seems to have left everything to me.
Beth and I have had endless conversations about the parental situation since Christmas. Daniel’s even taken Dad out for a drink – to no avail. Dad wouldn’t say anything other than that he’s in love. Like some heartsick teenager. I’ve tried to understand Dad’s point of view, even though I’m still angry, but I just don’t get it. I asked him what’s so great about Lilian. He says he met her at the art classes Beth encouraged him to take – I think she might feel a bit guilty about that – and they struck up a friendship.
‘Lilian’s so different from your mum,’ he said, ‘kind of arty, and a free spirit. I didn’t realise how stultified I was till she blew into my life like a breath of fresh air. I know it’s hard for you to accept.’
And I don’t accept it. I won’t accept it. The whole notion of my dad having an affair is preposterous. Honestly, men can be pathetic at times. Which is part of the reason why I prefer women. Although … I haven’t exactly had a great track record there, either.
‘What’s the latest, then?’ asks Beth as we settle down with coffee.
‘Mum’s finally asked Dad to move out,’ I tell her.
‘You’re kidding me?’ says Beth, looking genuinely shocked. ‘I keep thinking they’ll sort it out somehow. They can’t be splitting up at their age. It’s absurd.’
‘I know. But they can’t go on as they are. You’ve seen how vile they can be to one another. It’s horrible living with it.’
‘Is there any way to persuade Dad to change his mind?’ Beth is clutching at straws. I totally understand why, although if she’d been living there these past weeks she would see that Dad needs to move out. It’s not fair on Mum.
‘I honestly don’t think so,’ I say. ‘I think even Ged’s tried.’
Ged has been conspicuous by his absence since all this kicked off. I put the fact that he has actually rung Dad down to a kick in the butt from Rachel. God knows what sort of family she thinks she’s landed up in.
‘How’s Mum?’ Beth looks guilty. ‘I keep meaning to come over and see how she is, but it’s been busy, and you know how it is …’
I do know. I am annoyed with Beth for not seeing more of Mum, but in a way I can’t blame her. I’m stuck with Mum and Dad. If I had the chance I’d probably do what Ged’s done and run a mile. Maybe it’s time I did step up to the plate
So I content myself with, ‘I’m sure Mum would love to see you,’ and tell her that I’ve decided to take Mum away.
‘It will do us both good.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ says Beth, ‘but can you afford it? We can chip in if necessary.’
‘I was going to pay for it, but when I saw the prices I changed my mind and told Dad he has to at least pay Mum’s share. I figure he owes her.’
‘He certainly does,’ says Beth. ‘I’m still in denial about all of this. I can’t believe none of us saw the signs.’
‘Me neither.’
‘I guess you never know what’s happening in other people’s marriages,’ says Beth.
‘I guess not.’
‘Dad and this Lilian woman …’
There’s silence for a minute, and then Beth makes a funny noise. I look at her. She’s starting to laugh, putting a hand to her mouth.
‘I know it’s wrong of me, but really, at his age, what can he be thinking?’
‘I don’t think thought has much to do with it,’ I say, and Beth shrieks with disgust.
‘I don’t even want to go there,’ she says, giggling helplessly now. ‘We shouldn’t laugh, but really, the thought of him and someone who isn’t Mum, it’s crazy.’
It’s enough to tip me over the edge. We both end up laughing till the tears are running down our faces. After all the anger, it feels like a nice kind of release.
‘I genuinely thought this would all blow over,’ says Beth when she’s recovered. ‘I guess I was wrong. Sorry, I’ve been so stressed out over this book, I haven’t given them the time I should.’
‘No worries,’ I say. ‘You’ve got a lot on your plate, and at least I’m not working at the moment.’
‘Thanks, Lou,’ says Beth, ‘I am grateful.’
‘It’s fine,’ I say, plastering a smile on my face. I can feel myself sobering up. Good old Lou, the spinster daughter, with so little in her life she can carry the can. ‘Glad to help.’
Daniel
Daniel emerged from a stressful meeting of the Senior Management team with a horrible headache. They’d been discussing the shortfall in this year’s budget, and there had been several dissenting voices around the table when Daniel and the bursar had spoken about tightening their belts. Jim Ferguson had been particularly vociferous about Daniel’s suggestion to scale back on the introduction of a new computer system, which had been his particular baby. The trouble was there was a lot of wastage, but the bottom line was the school didn’t have enough money to implement some of the programmes Daniel had wanted to put in place to improve things. He was going to have to wait another year. He somehow didn’t think the Ofsted inspectors were going to be impressed by that, whenever they showed up. He hoped he wasn’t heading for trouble.
Daniel headed for his office, made a coffee, and started going over yet more paperwork. There was always so much to do. He rarely left school before six thirty, and was only grateful he had a short journey home now. It was so much easier than when he’d been working in London, when he was rarely home before 8 p.m. At least he got to see his family for some of the evening, though invariably he found himself locked away in his study for a couple of hours each night.
Not that Beth seemed to notice at the moment. She was so caught up with the combination of her new book and worries about her parents, sometimes she barely acknowledged him when he came in. He was used to her vagueness when the muse was upon her, but this was a whole new level. Most days he would find her in her shed staring grumpily at bits of paper, having
