‘He doesn’t…’ I begin, but then I wonder: maybe he’s right – maybe Matthew does. Is it true?
What have I done? What care have I taken of Frank in the search for my own happiness? I think of my own mother, who cared nothing for our welfare whenever it meant she could have a bloke around – blokes who were always unsuitable, never the least bit interested in us.
Am I following in her footsteps?
Hardly! I hear Marlena say. You’ve done everything for that boy. Everything. It’s time you had a life of your own, Jeanie.
Is that what she’d say though? Or have I simply sacrificed Frankie’s happiness for my own?
Or maybe this is just normal life? Kids and parents battling it out for a bit of equality. I’ve never had a man around, not really; not since Simon, and it’s hard to know what’s normal…
‘I’m going to George’s,’ Frank says dully, and he kisses me on the cheek. ‘Take care, Mum. You need to take care.’
‘Don’t go, Frank, please,’ I plead, but he’s already slouching down the drive. ‘I’ll ring you later, darling,’ I call after him, and he raises one weary hand in farewell, but he doesn’t look round.
Slowly I turn and walk back into the house.
Thirty-Five
Marlena
Now what are you looking at?
Okay, yes, that is what I’d have said about Frankie and Jeanie. She’d done everything for that boy – above and beyond the call of duty.
Everything. Which was especially difficult, given the early circumstances of his life.
But let’s not discuss that right now, all right?
Yes, I’m getting upset.
Leave it there please.
And Jeanie did deserve happiness, of course. But when you’ve got no blueprint for a healthy relationship, how do you know where to find it? It wasn’t surprising she thought her dreams would be wrapped up by finding her Prince Charming.
Prince Charming’s a stupid old fantasy though, isn’t he? He doesn’t exist. You only need to look at the divorce statistics to know that.
Thirty-Six
Jeanie
13 March 2015
Waking this morning, I feel a sense of dread that I can’t quite place.
Then I remember: I’ve lost my job before I even started it, Frankie’s not here – and the twins are coming for the weekend.
Frankie’s still so angry about his row with Matthew, he’s still refusing to come home. Last night I took a bag of clean clothes to George’s, humiliated further when George’s mum looked at me like I was useless.
I should be used to people looking at me like that.
It still hurts though.
The gardener is outside again, mowing the already shorn grass.
I force myself out of bed and downstairs, but I can’t be bothered to go for a run. The running’s definitely on the slide.
Someone on breakfast television is talking about subverting negative thoughts. ‘It’s so easy to get into a downward spiral. We’ve all been there, haven’t we?’ the glossy life-coach lady says cheerily to the presenter, her bright earrings jingling. ‘But if we’re feeling down, why not make ourselves think up!’
She makes it sound so easy – and she looks like she’s never been there in her life.
They move on to an item about making your own pizza dough. I switch the television off and sit staring into space.
The gardener clomps across my sight line, and I duck out of view. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
The phone breaks into my thoughts about being more positive, about approaching the twins’ forthcoming stay with positivity. If I can do that, it will be a positive experience for us all.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Kaye, Jeanie. How are you?’
‘Oh,’ I say blankly. ‘Fine, thanks. Matthew’s at work actually…’
‘It was you I wanted,’ she says. ‘I just…’ Slight pause. ‘Well I wanted to apologise.’
‘Apologise?’ I feel my brows knit. ‘Why?’
‘I was a bit – hostile, maybe, the other day. I didn’t mean to be. You seem like a really nice lady. And I think Scarlett needs all the help she can get, Jean. Would you be an angel and keep a special eye out for her?’
‘Sure.’ I am completely nonplussed by Kaye’s camaraderie. ‘But – why? I mean, are you worried about something in particular?’
‘Oh you know, not really. It’s just – it’s a difficult time for her, isn’t it? Puberty and all that! And everyone knows what teenage girls are like, don’t they? I mean, we both were one once.’
‘Yes, well, that’s true.’
‘And she’s such a daddy’s girl.’
‘Is she?’ I am cautious now. What’s Kaye driving at?
‘Of course she is! Although I’m so close to her…’
‘I suppose…’ This is my chance. ‘I wondered, have you had any suspicions she might be cutting herself?’
‘Cutting?’
‘Like – self-harming? It’s pretty common in girls of her—’
‘Are you joking?’ Kaye’s voice is rising. ‘Cutting? She’s not doing that, Jean, I’m sure of it. I’d know.’