and that’s final.’
‘Don’t be silly. It’s only for a few days. I can sleep downstairs if you help me make the bed up in the sitting room. It’ll be fine. I can use the loo downstairs and the shower.’
Kate took the mug Guy offered her and tried not to concentrate on their bickering or ogle Guy’s exquisite body as he clambered back into bed, very gently lifting Maggie’s foot as he did so that she could settle back amongst a great heap of pillows. It occurred to Kate that he had probably carried her upstairs too. Damn him.
Guy pulled the duvet up around them both. He had a tattoo, a dark blue Celtic knot that wrapped itself around his suntanned biceps. Kate looked away because her mouth had started to water and because she knew she was staring.
This was not the natural order of things. Watching them in bed together, Kate had the same kind of feeling in her belly as she had had when she’d found a pile of girlie magazines under Danny’s mattress. It had come as a shock to realise her son might be sexually active; to discover her mother was was totally beyond comprehension.
Maggie was still talking. ‘There are clean sheets in the airing cupboard, sweetheart. You can have your old room. Sorry that I’m not more talkative, but I’ve had a lot of painkillers tonight and I feel really spacey.’
Really spacey? Really spacey? What sort of expression was that for your mother to use?
‘It’s all right, you really ought to try and get some sleep,’ Kate said briskly, gathering her things and her thoughts together. ‘I was planning to stay overnight and then come and collect you tomorrow from the hospital. Maybe hang around if you needed help –’ the words were coming out a touch too jauntily. ‘But I can see that you’re in very good hands. No need for me to stay.’
‘Do you want me to help you sort the bed out?’ asked Guy. ‘I’ve put your bag in your room.’ He made as if to get up again.
‘No, no. I’ll be fine, really I – thanks,’ she said waving him back down. ‘I’ll take my tea into the bedroom. Been a long drive –’ Kate yawned theatrically. ‘It was Liz. You know what she’s like. I wouldn’t have come if she hadn’t … I mean, and there’s Guy, I didn’t know about – well, I just thought …’ the words jammed up in her throat.
Maggie smiled. ‘I’m really glad you did come, Kate.’ Spacey or not, her voice was soft and full of love. ‘Can you stay a day or two? It would be so good to catch up. It seems like ages since we’ve talked, I want to hear all your news. How are the boys? How’s work going? And Joe? I’ve missed you, sweet pea.’
Kate looked from one face to the other and felt tears prickling up all hot and raw behind her eyes, which was all the more disturbing because it was the last thing she had expected. And then she nodded, ‘Maybe, probably, possibly.’ As she got to the door Kate realised she’d promised to ring Chrissie. The question was what the hell was she going to say to her?
‘Are you okay?’ said Guy, kissing Maggie gently on the forehead, careful to avoid the bruises and stitches.
She sighed, welcoming his touch. ‘Better now that Kate’s here.’
He stroked her hair back off her face. ‘Good. I’m sorry that she had to find out about us like this.’
Maggie jiggled to try and get herself comfortable. Despite the painkillers, she couldn’t find an easy spot to settle. ‘I’m not ashamed of you, Guy – I love you – and the last thing I want is to hide you away from my kids, but I needed to be sure before I told them.’
He grinned. ‘And you’re not?’
She snorted and shook her head. ‘It’s all academic now, isn’t it? I suppose even though they’re grown up, I’m still protecting them. But honestly, I’m glad Kate knows and I’m sure it’ll be fine. Really. Just give it a bit of time.’
‘Is there anything I can do to make it easier? I’d really like Kate to like me.’
Maggie grinned and settled her head down on his shoulder. ‘I don’t know – the usual stuff. Take her to the park, buy her a pony.’
Kate phoned home because she’d said she would. She rang Chrissie’s house first and when no one answered, she hung up before the machine cut in and rang her house instead.
‘Got there okay, then?’ Joe asked. He had always had a natural talent for stating the obvious.
‘Yep, I’m fine thanks, safely tucked up in bed with a nice mug of tea,’ Kate said with a heartiness she most certainly didn’t feel.
‘Right. Chrissie’s still here, we’re just finishing off the last of the Baileys. Do you want to talk to her?’
‘I’m packing the dishwasher,’ Chrissie said, when Joe handed her the phone. Joe sounded pissed, Chrissie didn’t, and God only knows where Bill had got to.
‘Mum’s okay,’ Kate said. ‘Bit bruised and battered.’
‘You don’t sound too good either.’
‘It seemed to take hours to get up here and to be honest I was knackered before I left,’ Kate hedged.
‘So have you rung the hospital?’
‘No need to. When I let myself in Mum was already here.’
‘Bloody hell, that’s awful. I didn’t think they’d discharge her if she hadn’t got anyone there to look after her.’
‘They didn’t – she has. His name’s Guy.’
‘A man? Her neighbour?’
‘Her boyfriend.’
‘Wow! You didn’t tell me she was seeing someone.’
‘Because I didn’t know and no, it’s not “wow”,’ snapped Kate. ‘He’s the same age as I am. Younger probably – with a tattoo.’ And then Kate told Chrissie all about meeting Guy, very quietly and very quickly, because she wasn’t sure if her voice would carry and if Mum and Guy could hear her from their room.
Curled up, warm and whispering in the gloom, her clothes neatly folded on the ottoman at the foot of the bed, wrapped in a duvet, Kate felt like a kid all over again, wondering if Mum and Dad could hear the radio. It was a disturbing sensation, sitting there in her old bed, staring at the same four walls that had surrounded her for the best part of her childhood.
Although at least her parents had had the decency to decorate the room since the whole Adam Ant, Duran Duran, New Romantic phase, thought Kate ruefully. It was cream now with a navy blue picture rail, and curtains and bedclothes to match, her shabby teenage skip-chic replaced by handsome reclaimed pine furniture. A large mirror hung on the wall where her giant poster of Spandau Ballet once was, although screwing her eyes up, Kate could just make out the heart shape on the back of the door, carved into the soft wood with a dead biro, where she’d pledged her undying love for Tony Hadley, Spandau’s tall dark lead singer, the one with the floppy hair.
