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‘It’s a fish comforter.’
‘A what?’
‘Yeah, that’s what I said when they sent it to me. Basically, there’s a small battery inside that powers the fan, which is actually a propeller.’
‘I’m still none the wiser.’
‘The idea is that people who own pet fish, aquariums and the like, stick a photo of themselves in the frame, then drop it in the water and it kind of buzzes around the tank reminding the fish of what their owner looks like when they’re not there; thus, comforting the fish that they’ve not been forgotten about.’
Laura cocked her head to one side and gave her husband a strange look. ‘I don’t know much about fish, but I don’t think they’re that bright. In fact, I would think that being chased around a fish tank by the disembodied head of an absentee owner is likely to add more to their stress levels than anything else. Who’s going to be stupid enough to buy something like this?’
‘Good question. One in ten UK households now have pet fish, probably because they’re relatively easy to look after and make no mess.’
‘And they all worry about their pets suffering separation anxiety when they’re out?’
‘Not yet, they don’t.’
‘Oh.’
‘The idea is to create anxiety and then sell this to them to satisfy that anxiety.’
‘Don’t you ever feel, Nathan, that what you do is completely pointless?’
Nathan laughed. ‘Most of the time.’
Laura stood up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll phone later to speak to everyone. Look after my girls.’
Nathan longed to grab her, pull her onto his knee and lock his mouth onto hers as they’d done years ago, but instead, with a whoosh of black hair and Paul Smith, she vanished, leaving behind a faint delicate scent of apple blossom, which would haunt his office for the rest of the day.
*
Later that evening, whilst Daisy and Chloe were playing in the living room, Nathan glanced up from washing the last of the dinner plates and noticed Millie fiddling with her empty plastic glass.
‘Do you want some more orange juice, sweetie?’
‘No.’
‘Have you had enough to eat?’
‘Yes.’
It felt as if his eldest daughter was growing up fast, and although he considered her to be wise beyond her years, which he deduced happened to older siblings, she hadn’t yet become a teenager. Her monosyllabic answers were out of character, signifying something was worrying her.
Given their current disastrous domestic arrangements, this didn’t come as a huge surprise. When Chloe and Daisy were upset they manifested this in displays of bad behaviour and petulance and had been testing his patience a lot lately. However, Millie had grown beyond that stage and now had fewer options left open to express any distress. Nathan wiped his hands, closed the kitchen door and sat down opposite her at the table.
‘What’s wrong, Millie?’
‘Nothing.’
Nathan started with the easy option. ‘Is school all right?’
‘Fine.’
‘Something’s bothering you.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine. I know all this with Mum being away is hard, but I can’t change it, not just now anyway; it’s complicated.’
‘You and Mum haven’t been getting on for ages, Dad, I get that.’
He frowned. ‘What is it, then?’
‘I don’t want to move to London.’
He sat back, startled by her answer. ‘Who said you’re moving to London? The reason we are living in this mess is because …’
Now he had a problem. They’d agreed that, despite what either of them might think or feel, they were to present a united front to the kids. No laying guilt trips on them, no using them as tools to hurt the other. They were to pretend that their current arrangements were perfectly normal, but Millie knew that it had been her mother’s decision to move away. ‘I just need some space,’ Laura had said countless times in those last few weeks.
Nathan took a deep breath. ‘Millie, the reason Mummy is working in London is because she can make so much more money there. One day she’ll come back home and in the meantime we all stay in Edinburgh and carry on like before.’
Millie bit her lip and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. ‘I know, but what if Mummy doesn’t want to ever come back here? Then she’ll take us all to London and leave you here all alone.’
That puzzled him. What had Laura been saying. ‘Why do you think that?’
The tears started to pour down Millie’s face and he shuffled his chair around beside her and held her. Between snuffles and snorts she said, ‘Mummy’s got a boyfriend.’
That rendered him speechless.
It took a few minutes to calm his daughter down and gather his own thoughts. He got Millie some water and sat beside her. ‘So how do you know Mummy’s got a boyfriend?’ he asked sceptically. Laura had only been in London for two months and he found it hard to believe she’d been able to break their wedding vows, for what they were worth, so quickly or indiscreetly – and, more to the point, to reduce their eldest daughter to such a state.
Millie smiled weakly at her dad. ‘There were two pairs of men’s boxer shorts in the washing basket in her flat.’
He tried to think of an innocent explanation for that, and, although he couldn’t immediately come up with one, he decided to give Laura the benefit of the doubt. ‘That doesn’t mean anything, Millie. She might just have bought them for me as a present and decided to wash them before giving them to me.’
Millie stared at him, bestowing a look of pity upon her father for being so stupid. ‘Dad, I checked her phone as well one morning and she had loads of dirty texts from a guy called Simon Kedward – some were way beyond stuff you see online, and others were all lovey-dovey yucky stuff. There were some pictures of them together as well. They’d all been taken in London last week. He’s got blond hair and in one of the pictures he’s got his hands over Mum’s boobs. So, I know he’s not just a “friend” like she said.’
Nathan reeled from her confession and the shock that she’d confronted her mum. ‘What did Mummy say when she knew you’d been looking at her phone?’
Millie narrowed her eyes and wrinkled up her nose and stared at him as if he’d gone way beyond stupid this time. ‘I didn’t tell her I’d looked at her phone.’
Maybe Nathan was stupid. ‘So how … why did she say he’s just a friend if … I don’t understand, Millie.’
Millie smiled and shook her head at his bafflement. ‘Because he came and gave us all a lift to the airport in his car.’
Laura hadn’t mentioned anything about a Simon or the fact that she’d technically been unfaithful.
‘What does this Simon guy do for a living?’
‘I don’t know but he makes “oodles of cash”.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He said so.’
‘He’s got a bit of money, then.’
Millie smiled and wiped her eyes. ‘Yeah, oodles of it.’
‘Mm, this Oodles guy – that’s what I’m going to call him – do you think that’s why Mum likes him?’
‘Dad, you’re asking me about grown-up relationships – not exactly my specialist subject.’
‘What is your specialist subject?’
Millie bit her lip, thinking. ‘Mm, probably Little Mix or The Voice.’
He hugged Millie and she squirmed uncomfortably. ‘Don’t mention any of this to your mum until I can speak to her, okay? As for you moving to London, I think the fact she’s got a boyfriend probably makes it less likely as having you lot around doesn’t exactly give her a lot of freedom.’
‘His last text to Mum said: I can’t wait to meet your girls, perhaps one day we could all be a family, wouldn’t that be something? So, I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Dad.’
Millie picked up her iPad and left the room. Nathan frowned. She seemed to have left in a lighter mood. He couldn’t be sure if she’d been genuinely reassured by his words or by the fact that she’d unburdened her secret. Maybe a combination of both.
He got a large glass from the cupboard and poured himself some wine. He needed to think. He had about half an hour before everyone needed to be in their pyjamas and ready for bed. He’d been genuinely shocked by Millie’s revelation, but it at least explained the newly dyed hair, clothes and perfume, plus Laura had changed in another way that he couldn’t initially put his finger on; she seemed to walk taller, with more of a spring in her step … Then it dawned on him: she was happy.
That depressed him, but the fact some other man wanted to form a family with his wife and kids disturbed him the most. Millie might have picked it up wrong, of course – it seemed unlikely that another man would be so ready to take on another woman’s children quite so quickly. He couldn’t imagine doing that, but then he didn’t know anything about what had gone on. Perhaps Laura had laid down an ultimatum: love me, love my girls. He wouldn’t put it past her.
Nathan knew somewhere deep down that one day Laura would meet someone else. In fact he reckoned it had been part of her plan in moving to London. It was always easier to jump if someone was waiting to catch you. He just hadn’t expected her to jump so soon.
Chapter 9 (#ulink_1a07f247-3543-5f67-8caf-c278167e8569)
Going home always brought about mixed emotions. I loved my parents and I enjoyed spending time with them partly because they were more bonkers than me and, in a perverse way, that made me feel better. However, this was inevitably tempered with some apprehension of discovering what new shenanigans they might be involved in.
Arriving to see them on the Saturday morning, I parked outside the semi-detached stone villa that had been my home growing up and remained so in many ways. My room still contained my old bed and the wardrobe still held a selection of my clothes that I hadn’t felt the need to take with me. The chest of drawers in the corner was full of old black scarves and jumpers. Officially the room had been designated as a ‘guest’ room but the last guest to sleep in it had been me, four months ago, on Christmas Day. My parents didn’t do ‘guests’ well. The bedroom door still had my name on it, ‘Kat’ shaped from the silhouette of a bat with blood dripping from its wing tips. I still liked that and might take it with me one day.
I used my key to open the door and found my mum standing on a pair of steps just inside cleaning the coving with a bottle of Dettox and kitchen roll.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Oh, Kat, I didn’t know you were coming over today. You usually phone.’
‘Thought I’d surprise you.’
My mum didn’t like surprises. I once booked a weekend away to London for her and my dad for their wedding anniversary with tickets to see Cats. With her control issues she’d spent most of the time in the capital on TripAdvisor, investigating what the highest-rated weekend wedding anniversary trips were. At that time, it had been a spa break in Bath. She phoned me and asked, ‘Why didn’t you do some research and book us on a spa weekend in Bath?’
‘Err, because they don’t have Cats playing in Bath at the moment.’
‘Ahh, so it’s a musical theatre break you’ve organised for us.’ The fact I’d handed her the show tickets in an envelope along with the hotel booking should have given that away really. She’d hung up but then phoned me back fifteen minutes later whilst they were on their way to the theatre to see the show.
‘Kat.’
‘Mum.’
‘If you’d done your research you’d have discovered that TheLion King is the most popular show on in London now, so next time—’
I hung up on her.
That happened to be the first and last surprise break I ever organised for them.
Back in the hall my mum got down from her steps and moved them along three feet to get at the next bit of offending ornate plasterwork. ‘You’d better tell your dad you’re here.’
‘Where is he?’
‘It’s Saturday morning and it’s sunny; where do you think he is?’
‘In a shed?’
‘Where else? Number two, I think.’
I plonked my jacket onto the back of a kitchen chair and went out of the French doors. Our back garden stretched back almost ninety feet with a load of trees and shrubs clustered at the far end. Grass and sheds took up most of the space, though using the word ‘sheds’ to describe my father’s pride and joys did them a huge disservice.
Number one had a flat slated roof, large double-glazed windows and a seven-point locking door with toughened safety glass making it very difficult to break into or, as we discovered, out of. I suppose I’d describe it as a glam-shed. Inside, mounted on the wall was an HDTV, two comfy couches and, in the corner, a desk with a PC and internet connection. It also had independent LPG heating. Shed number one doubled as my dad’s escape from reality. He’d sit in there for hours in the summer watching the test match or peering at the PC screen, researching stuff for his work or talking to fellow shed enthusiasts. Shed number one had also been the site of his run-in with authority when he’d locked the local MSP, Moira Cleethorpes, inside for not agreeing to challenge the local planning authority who’d refused him permission to build an extension onto the back of our house.
Moira had used her mobile to call the police, who had arrived and duly cautioned my father for false imprisonment despite his argument she’d had the third day of the England versus South Africa test match on HDTV to watch and a jug of homemade lemonade to keep her cool.
I approached shed number two from the ‘blind side’ (the side with no windows) and noticed a pile of fixtures and fittings on the grass. Shed number two had recently been decked out to resemble an artist’s studio with two easels, selections of paint, acrylics, charcoal and canvases. The fact neither of my parents had any kind of artistic ability or interest whatsoever hadn’t seemed to cross his mind when he’d been planning it. Now that idea had obviously been changed and a new project had started.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Kat.’ My dad jumped, startled. ‘I didn’t know you were coming today. Does your mum know you’re here?’
‘Yeah, she’s cleaning the cornicing.’
He nodded. ‘Still? She started that yesterday. Keeps her busy, I suppose.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m cleaning out space for my new project.’
‘Which is what exactly?’
‘Llamas.’
‘Llamas?’
‘Llamas – they make excellent pets.’
‘I’m not sure they do and why do you want a pet? No disrespect, Dad, but you and Mum have a hard enough time looking after yourselves.’
