How to Break Your Own Heart Page 4

  ‘Yes, yes,’ she said. ‘Of course. We’re really looking forward to meeting him. I’ve got the spare room all ready. Dick’s here as well, so it will be quite a party.’

  I could have danced with relief that Dick was going to be there. Things were always better at home when he was around.

  ‘Great,’ I said. ‘Can’t wait. See you soon.’

  And I rang off smiling, happy with what passed for a deep and meaningful conversation between me and my mother. Although I loved her dearly, that was about as close as we ever got to being real about things with each other, because when you lived in a state of constant tension, as we all did around my father, the only way to cope with it was always to pretend everything was lovely. Reality was way too scary to deal with. When Mum and I got going, we made Pollyanna look like a miserable old pessimist.

  I tried to keep my head in that mode as we got closer to Maidstone, but despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my thoughts galloping off, wondering if there was any way I could warn Ed about my father before we got there. I could feel my pulse starting to race from the tension of it, until I knew I had to say something.

  ‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you,’ I blurted out, eventually.

  Ed’s head snapped round and he looked at me. ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, looking very concerned.

  I had to get on with it. I took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I’m fine, it’s just… well, the thing is… it’s my father.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a relief,’ he said, glancing back at me, this time smiling sweetly.

  ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I asked him, puzzled.

  ‘Well, go on and I’ll see if I’m right.’

  ‘It’s just, well, my dad can be a little…’

  ‘Difficult?’ said Ed.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, looking at him in amazement.

  ‘It’s OK, Amelia,’ he said, taking my hand and holding it on his left thigh while he drove. ‘Your brother gave me a bit of a tip-off about that.’

  I was astonished. ‘Whatever did he say?’

  ‘He just said that if I was planning on meeting your folks, I might want to pack a bulletproof vest because your old man has a hair trigger on his temper. Is that it?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ I said, intensely relieved that I didn’t have to do any more explaining.

  ‘I think I’ll be able to deal with him,’ said Ed, squeezing my hand and then letting go of it to change gear. ‘I know all about deputy headmasters. They’re always the really crazy ones. They take their frustration at not being the top man out wherever they can and, in your dad’s case, it seems to be at home.’

  I looked at the side of his face in astonishment. He had the whole sick picture bang on. Without me needing to go into tiresome explanations of the thing that made me most uncomfortable in my life, he seemed to understand it completely. I felt a new rush of love for him.

  I sat there for a while, humming with happiness that I had met such a wonderful man. Then I remembered his slightly odd initial overreaction to me saying I had something to tell him.

  ‘Ed,’ I said, tentatively. He turned and smiled at me. My stomach turned over, as it always did when he looked at me that way. That smile really was adorable. ‘What on earth did you think I was going to tell you before? You looked terrified.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said, laughing sheepishly. ‘You sounded so worried, I thought you might be about to tell me you were pregnant, or something like that. You know, every man’s worst nightmare, getting the lovely young girlfriend knocked up…’

  He smiled at me again, but not his normal radiant beam, it was more of a nervous rictus. I was really puzzled.

  ‘Well, that’s hardly likely, is it?’ I said, as lightly as I could. ‘I’m on the Pill and you always use a condom as well… You’d have to have supersonic sperm to get me pregnant through all that.’

  ‘Well, you can’t be too careful, can you?’ said Ed, laughing and squeezing my leg.

  I said nothing. I’d always thought an accidental pregnancy between two people who were very much in love was terribly romantic. Really, I couldn’t think of a nicer way for a child to be conceived than through unbridled passion like that. Maybe that was just a girl thing, I told myself. Ed would probably want to plan his family with the same precision he brought to his wine-buying trips.

  ‘Cor blimy,’ he was saying, shifting around in his car seat. ‘Can we stop talking about that subject? You’re getting me all hot and bothered, and I imagine we will be very separately billeted at your parents’ place tonight, so I won’t be able to do anything about it. I don’t imagine your father would tolerate any corridor creeping.’

  ‘No,’ I said, laughing too. ‘He’s probably installed a tripwire alarm system ready.’

  And then we reached the turn-off for Maidstone, and I was so distracted giving Ed directions to my parents’ cul de sac, hidden deep in a soulless labyrinth of new housing developments, that I forgot all about it.

  4

  The visit started well enough. Everyone was on their best behaviour – apart from the bloody dog, which tried to shag Ed’s leg while we were having a slightly tortured time drinking tea in the sitting room from my mother’s best china cups. I wished we’d just had mugs in the kitchen, like we normally did, but I knew she was only trying to make it super nice for my sake, so I did my best to look relaxed while feeling as tense as a spring.

  Ed did a good job gently extracting Monty, a particularly foul-smelling and charmless Westie, from his trouser leg, but then my father’s beloved pet proceeded to put on another canine display, dragging its bottom backwards and forwards across the carpet with a unique humping motion, until Dick administered a light kick when neither of my parents was looking.

  It was a risky move on Dick’s part, because Monty was the object of my father’s unconditional love in a way neither of his children had ever been. My mother was surprisingly soppy about the dog too – probably because it was the one member of the family who never triggered my dad’s rage. And even I had to admit it was a very useful distraction mechanism. If things started to get unbearably fraught, you could divert attention to Monty, ascribing to him all manner of anthropomorphic thoughts and motivations.

  ‘Oh look,’ said Dick, after the kick had sent the poor creature whining to the closed door, which it was now viciously scratching. ‘Monty thinks it’s a waste to stay in on such a lovely afternoon. He thinks it’s time for a walk with Dickie, don’t you, Monty boy? Anyone else want to come?’

  I leapt to my feet, thrilled to have been thrown a means of escape. Dick really was the business like that.

  ‘I would love to come,’ said my mum.

  ‘Yes, me too,’ said Ed. ‘A walk would be lovely after all that driving.’

  But my father had other plans for Ed. ‘No, Edward,’ he said, planting one of his hairy hands on Ed’s slender shoulder, ‘let them go. You stay here with me, so we can get to know each other. I’d like to hear what you have to say about New World wines…’

  My heart sank, for so many reasons. I would have dreaded the thought of Ed being left alone with my father in any circs, but with the subject for discussion now laid on the table, it was potentially catastrophic.

  I already knew exactly what both of them felt about New World wines. My father was a big enthusiast for cheap plonk from the colonies, while Ed thought that no vintage produced outside France was worthy of discussion, let alone drinking. He was categorical about it.

  Even with my very limited knowledge of wine, I thought Ed’s position a little extreme, but that was how he felt – end of story. And I already knew that when Ed’s mind was made up about something, there was no point in arguing with him. In that moment it occurred to me for the first time that he and my dad were almost a match when it came to obstinacy. Ed was just a lot more charming about it.

  I thought quickly. ‘Ed,’ I said, brightly. ‘Can you just help me get my bag out of the car? I need to change my shoes.’

  He sprang up lik
e a ninja and we were out of the room together before any objection could be made.

  ‘OK,’ I said, going into full crisis-management mode as we walked across the short gravel drive to the car. ‘Dad thinks wine from Chile and South Africa and probably Chad is really, really super, OK? I know you hate it, but can you just pretend to go along with him? Please? He’s even more stubborn than you are, so don’t bother trying to argue. For my sake?’

  Ed answered by pulling me towards him and kissing me passionately by the car, while I opened one eye to make sure my father wasn’t watching out of the sitting-room window.

  Dick’s idea of a walk involved, as I had strongly suspected it would, not much more perambulation than it took to get from the car park to the door of one of his favourite country pubs.

  Mum and I left him there and said we’d come back and find him after we’d had a proper stroll with Monty.

  We set off on one of our well-trodden family routes, down a path which ran along the edge of a beautiful meadow and into some woods. I breathed in the sweet late-summer English air and felt the tension of the day begin to subside.

  ‘Ed seems very nice,’ said my mum.

  ‘Oh good,’ I said. ‘I’m so glad you like him. Of course, you haven’t really had a chance to get to know him yet, but I’m pleased your first impressions are good.’

  ‘He has lovely manners, and he’s very nice-looking, I must say.’

  We walked on for a bit without saying anything else, apart from the usual nonsensical asides to Monty that we ritually employed to fill up the space where a conversation might normally be.

  ‘Oh, what a clever puppy!’ exclaimed my mum when he caught a stick.

  ‘Look, Monty!’ I said in equally excited tones, as I threw the stick again.

  ‘So how have you been since I last saw you?’ I asked casually, and deliberately not specifying whether it was ‘you’ in the singular or the plural.

  ‘Oh, we’ve been fine,’ said my mum, her voice rising very slightly, so I knew things hadn’t been fine. I had been worried about leaving her alone with my father for the entire summer holidays. Normally, I would have been at home for most of them, working in a kitchenware shop in the town and just being there for Mum the rest of the time.

  ‘Has Dad been able to relax and enjoy the break, or has he been worrying about work?’ I asked, lightly, which was as close as I was going to get to asking the real question, which I could never actually ask.

  ‘He’s been a bit anxious about things,’ said my mum, looking down. ‘Here, Monty, catch… Oh, what a clever boy you are!’

  She glanced at me. ‘I went to stay with Jill for a week, while you were away.’

  I sighed. So it had been that bad. ‘How is Jill?’ I asked. She was my godmother, who lived in Devon, and she had long been my mother’s survival line when things with Daddy dearest got just too ugly.

  ‘She’s very well,’ said Mum, smiling in a way that seemed much more genuine than her normal social face. ‘We had a lovely time just going for walks and cooking and reading. Just pootling quietly. It was glorious.’

  I put my arm around my mother’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. It was the best I could do. There was so much to say, I couldn’t even start. If we opened that floodgate, we would never be able to close it again. But in that moment a tiny hug was enough between us for me to tell her I loved her and knew what she went through with my shit of a father. We didn’t have to put it into words. We knew.

  She smiled at me softly again and I could see tears in her eyes, before she blinked them away and resumed her usual determinedly composed mantle.

  ‘So,’ she said. ‘Do you think you are serious about Ed?’

  ‘Gosh,’ I replied, taken off guard. ‘I’m not sure. Well, I think he is probably the most serious boyfriend I’ve ever had. He’s… he’s just so lovely. I feel so comfortable with him. He makes me laugh, he’s very thoughtful and he rather spoils me. I do really like him.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you, Amelia. You are at the right age to feel like that about someone.’ She paused and gave me a resigned look. ‘Let’s pray your father likes him as much as I do,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’s giving him the third degree right now. I hope it doesn’t put Ed off.’

  And then the conversation at any real level was over and it was back to telling Monty how terribly clever he was and look, how amazing, here was another lovely stick, until we went back to find Dick.

  His eyes had a distinct glaze to them when we found him leaning on the pub bar. He was near the bottom of a pint of real ale of some kind, and I strongly suspected it wasn’t the first.

  ‘Hello, you two,’ he said in his habitually jolly tones. ‘Care for a heart-starter?’

  Mum had a gin and tonic; I had a ginger beer – now I had been introduced to the delights of serious wine, I didn’t fancy a glass of pub red – and we sat down at a table in the corner. Dick lit up another of the extra-strength cigarettes he almost chainsmoked.

  ‘Better get a few more tabs in before we have to go back home,’ he said conspiratorially. He didn’t smoke in front of our father, who heartily disapproved of it. It was one of the many things in our family we all pretended didn’t happen.

  ‘So, tell me, Mum,’ said Dick, blowing a long plume of smoke into the air. ‘What do you think of Amelia’s new bloke, then?’

  ‘I was just telling her how nice he seems,’ said Mum, smiling sweetly at us both.

  ‘Yes, he’s a good man, Bradders,’ said Dick. ‘Our Meals is a savvy girl. He’s quite a catch, you know.’

  ‘Really?’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes, half the girls at Cambridge have been chasing Bradlow and his bucks.’ Dick looked at me and started laughing. ‘Don’t pretend you didn’t know…’

  ‘Well, he’s clearly not short of a few bob, driving that car,’ I said guardedly. ‘And he has been very generous with the trip we’ve just been on, although of course it was all research for his business…’

  ‘What do you mean, Dick?’ asked my mum, cutting in.

  ‘Bradlow’s very nicely set up for a twenty-three-year-old. His dad died years ago and he got loads of cash, plus a huge flat bang in the middle of Mayfair, if you don’t mind, and on top of that he’s making stacks of money with all this wine he imports. Little sis here has really landed on her feet if she bags Bradlow.’

  ‘Well, that’s not why I like him,’ I said, defensively. ‘I’d like Ed just as much if he had no money…’

  Dick put his hands on my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes with his own slightly addled ones. ‘But a little lubrication to smooth your passage out of Maidstone wouldn’t exactly hurt, would it?’ he said.

  I looked straight back at him without saying a word. Even through the haze of the drinks and the smokes, the rugby banter and the forced bonhomie, my hearty brother could be quite perceptive.

  I drove us home. Mum and I had both insisted Dick wasn’t up to it, so he sat in the back with the window open, smoking feverishly, while I made inane chat with Mum in the front, trying to ignore the butterflies that were beginning to swirl in my stomach.

  I dreaded to think what might have gone on in our absence. I wouldn’t have been surprised if we’d pulled up in front of the house to find Ed gone, just a cartoon plume of exhaust smoke left behind as he disappeared into the distance, but in fact I was very pleasantly surprised. We walked in to hear gales of manly laughter coming from the dining room. Dick and I exchanged a look of mutual wide-eyed wonder and went to investigate.

  Ed and Dad were sitting at the table with several bottles of wine and a row of glasses in front of them. My father was sitting in his carver chair, sniffing a glass of red wine, a tea towel tied round his eyes.

  ‘Now that is definitely the Argentinian Merlot,’ Dad was saying. ‘It’s got that big hearty bouquet. I’d recognize it anywhere.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Ed, turning and smiling conspiratorially at us.

  I was delighted to see them getti
ng on so well but simultaneously beginning to worry what would happen if Dad was wrong about the wine he was holding. He’d never been a very good loser, and the family games of Monopoly and Scrabble had long been despatched to the attic by my mother. Even Cluedo was risky with him.

  ‘OK, Paul,’ said Ed. ‘Have a look.’

  Dad whipped the tea towel off his head and Ed presented the bottle – it was the Argentinian wine.

  ‘There!’ said Dad. ‘I was right!’ He beamed when he saw the three of us standing in the doorway. ‘Ah! There you all are. We’re having a very interesting tasting here. So far I’ve got – what is it, Edward? – five out of six right. It was just that French red which threw me off course. Told you they were tricky wines, those French ones, didn’t I, Edward?’

  Ed nodded. ‘Very tricky, French wine,’ he said. ‘You never know what you’re going to get…’

  He caught my eye over Dad’s head and winked at me. My stomach turned over with delight.

  It was a miracle, but Dad’s good mood continued right through dinner and even having quite a bit more of the various wines to drink didn’t set him off. By the time he and Mum went up to bed, he was clapping Ed on the shoulders and telling him what a good chap he was.

  I was almost in shock, I was so relieved, and Dick was equally impressed.

  ‘Don’t know how you did it, Bradlow,’ he was saying, as the three of us celebrated in the kitchen with a glass of the French wine.

  ‘Aaaaah,’ said Ed happily, as he savoured his first mouthful. ‘Depth and complexity. Subtle richness. Quiet assertion. Such a relief after all those frightful tarty New World plonks. Give me Catherine Deneuve over Kylie Minogue any day.’

  ‘So how did you do it?’ said Dick, from his position by the open back door, out of which he was blowing his smoke.

  Ed chuckled. ‘Well, your sister here tipped me off about how your Dad feels about New World wine, so I just went with that. He’d also been talking about the car, so I let him drive it down to the off-licence for a test spin, and then I got one decent bottle of French, one Argentinian, one foul bottle of South African cack, one Aussie and one New Zealand, and we tasted them all, with me subtly rigging the results and swallowing as little of the New World cough mixture as I could get away with.’