22
Laura got to town far too early and parked higher than she normally would in the multi-storey, so that she had further to walk to where she had agreed to meet Claudia. Her legs were disconcertingly jellylike. She had felt almost disoriented with anxiety since she’d received the text from Saskia’s mother last night, asking if she would please meet her after work the next day, to talk, she’d said. Just the two of them. The mothers. She’d called Alex to ask if it was a good idea, surprised at how easily she’d slipped back to consulting him when it came to Ethan. He’d said, yes, he thought so, but warned her not to admit anything or apologize, as though what had happened was a fender-bender at a roundabout. She’d fought the urge to remind him that ‘Never apologize, never explain’ was more his mantra than hers, and promised to report back on what happened. They didn’t, by mutual agreement, want to tell Ethan. Until they knew what Claudia’s agenda was, it would only pile on stress, and he was already buckling. Alex volunteered to take him out for a pizza or a curry. Ethan didn’t like curry. But she acquiesced: he’d go to his dad’s after work, and it meant he needn’t know she wasn’t at home, where he always, always found her at five thirty. Somehow, work didn’t seem a barrier to Alex’s doing this, and she tried not to mind that, in a crisis, he could find time, when so often, without one, he hadn’t made any.
She hadn’t even told Mel what was going on. Or Dad. Too much of a maelstrom was swirling. Their broken little family had coalesced around Ethan and what was happening to him. It was discombobulating – a Daphne word from her childhood. It had probably never been more appropriate.
She had no idea what Claudia wanted. She hoped that, in choosing a public place, she was signalling there wouldn’t be any shouting. It was late in the day. The after-school crowd had gone home, and the after-work one was in the pub, not the café. One of the staff was already washing the floor and putting chairs on the tables. The other was clearly irritated by her ordering a pot of English breakfast tea, although they didn’t actually close for another half-hour.
Rupert had been making all the noise, when they’d shown up late that evening at Laura’s house. She might not have known Claudia if she’d passed her on the street. She was, however, the only woman in the café – the other customer was a scruffy old man – and her expression, as Laura entered, told Laura she remembered her very well. She was a slight woman, Laura’s age or maybe older. What Daphne would have called well preserved. She’d been very pretty once, you could tell, and her blue eyes were still very blue. She was wearing an Hermès scarf at her neck, tied in the immaculate, fancy way Laura never quite managed to pull off, and she had an old-fashioned handbag, like the Queen always carried. Based on appearances, at least, they were from different tribes.
After the briefest of pleasantries, oddly given and received, Laura busied herself for a moment with the teapot and small milk jug. She had to get up again to retrieve a spoon, then stir the water vigorously to produce tea with any colour at all. It meant she needn’t look at Claudia, who was clearly trying to speak, and struggling to know where to start.
‘I got your number from Saskia. Rupert doesn’t know I’m here. I hope it’s okay that I messaged you.’
There was no anger in this person. Laura felt flooded with relief.
‘How is she?’
Claudia smiled weakly at the concern. ‘She’s in bits. How’s Ethan doing?’
Laura felt protective. ‘He’s a total mess. He’s incredibly upset at what he’s being accused of.’
Claudia stared at her hands in her lap. ‘Of course he is.’
‘I know you know him.’
Claudia knew Ethan better than Laura knew Saskia. To be honest, she’d been in no state, the last few months, to play nice with Ethan’s girlfriend. She’d been glad he seemed happy. She had spent little time with them, and that arrangement had seemed to suit them all. They’d slept together at Alex’s, but it could just have easily have been at hers, and she would probably have had no idea. It was one of the facts she had castigated herself about in the last few days. Another reason to feel shitty. Ethan had reported that Claudia and Rupert seemed okay, Saskia’s mum a bit easier than her dad, and lots of rules he deemed petty and childish. But he’d eaten dinner with them a few times. Watched a match or two with Rupert. It had all seemed cool, he said.
She’d quite liked the little she’d learnt about Saskia. She seemed bright and sweet. And fond of Ethan. They’d laughed a lot, the two of them, at little in-jokes that didn’t seem remotely funny.
‘I do, a little. And I think he’s a nice boy, Laura. I honestly do.’
‘Then you have to know what nonsense this is.’
Her cheeks pinked up. ‘My husband is very angry.’
‘Believe me, so is mine.’
‘I’m sure he is. I’ve told Rupert we need to sit down, the four of us, and talk about it.’
‘How about the six of us? They’re not kids.’ Even as she said it, she couldn’t quite imagine it. But it seemed wrong to exclude Ethan and Saskia. It was probably the least appropriate moment to treat them like little kids.
‘She is. To him, at any rate. He can’t bear – just can’t stand – the idea of her being … you know …’
‘Sexually active?’ Laura couldn’t be doing with Claudia’s prudishness.
‘That. And in love. Maybe the love part more than the sex. He just wasn’t ready.’
‘It isn’t really about whether he was ready, though, is it?’
‘I know.’ She squirmed in her chair. ‘Look. Let me try to explain.’ She took a deep breath, and Laura could tell she was about to launch into something she’d rehearsed to herself before she came. ‘Rupert is an older father. We met rather later in life, to be truthful. I was already thirty-nine when we married. He’s ten years older. We thought we couldn’t have children. We started trying right away. It just wasn’t happening. And then it was. I got pregnant naturally before we had a chance to go the IVF route. It never happened again. Well, I did get pregnant. Once more, when Sas was four. But I miscarried, early on.’
She knew she was digressing. She shook herself back to her point. ‘Anyway, she was all we had. He was besotted, right from the start. I know a lot of men aren’t that interested, are they, when the children are babies, before they can talk? Not Rupert. She was the centre of his universe, from day one.’ The slight sadness of her own demotion was obvious. ‘It’s all been about her, about protecting her, giving her the best. We were living abroad, with his work, but she’s the reason we came back: he wanted her to finish her education in England, and he couldn’t bear to send her to boarding school. He went, you know, when he was seven. His father was in the forces …’ Another detour. She was so desperate to explain his behaviour. To try to make him seem sympathetic.
‘When we first came home she had a hard time. Girls can be so – so cliquey and cruel. She wasn’t very happy, not very settled. We wondered whether we’d done the wrong thing – whether we should have stayed where we were. I know he blamed himself. And then she and Ethan got together and it was like the light came back on. She was happy. I was worried they might be a bit, you know, obsessive. But I was incredibly glad she had him … I just didn’t realize – I suppose I didn’t want to think …’