One in Three Read online

  ‘Huge pile-up on the M23. Gruesome,’ Min says, with relish. Her image bobs and dips as she takes her phone into her study. She puts it down, and then brandishes an envelope at the screen. ‘Guess what I found on my doormat?’

  I love Min. She’s funny, and smart, and she makes my brother Luke very happy. But she has no boundaries, and I already know where this is going.

  ‘Before you ask, yes, Andrew and Caz are invited,’ I say, tossing another teabag into my empty mug. ‘Mum wants the whole family together for her big day. And you know how much she adores Kit.’

  ‘Well, Kit I understand, but why did Celia invite her?’

  ‘Because Andrew wouldn’t come without her.’

  Min looks indignant. ‘That woman should have the good manners to make herself scarce,’ she says. ‘Frankly, I can’t believe Andrew’s got the balls to come himself.’

  ‘You can say her name, you know. She’s not Voldemort.’

  ‘Lou, why are you putting yourself through this? You don’t have to play the martyr. You could put your foot down and say no to Celia.’

  I don’t rise to the bait. No one ever says no to my mother, including Min.

  It’s not that I don’t appreciate Min’s loyalty. I’d never have survived the brutal months after Andrew left if it wasn’t for her, not with a traumatised twelve-year-old and a newborn to look after. The youngest of Min’s four boys was still in nappies at the time, but she was there whenever I needed her. She took Bella to school on the mornings I simply couldn’t get out of bed, made sure I ate, and helped me cope with the heart-wrenching admin of divorce: finding a decent lawyer, boxing up Andrew’s stuff, going back to work. She listened patiently as I sobbed into my wineglass, trying to make sense of what had happened. And when it had looked as if I’d drown in my own despair, Min had delivered the precise dose of tough love I needed to start living again.

  What she’s found harder to accept is my need to finally put the past behind me and forgive Andrew. Her enduring hostility towards him is almost as exhausting as my mother’s serene refusal to accept he’s never coming back.

  Andrew broke my heart, but it’s been four years. If I don’t let the bitterness go, I’ll be consumed by it. He’s still Bella and Tolly’s father, and they love him.

  Whatever Min thinks, I’m neither a martyr nor a pushover. I’ve learned to tolerate Caz’s toxic presence in my life, because what other choice is there? The woman is married to my children’s father. Her son is their half-brother. In its own twisted way, whether I like it or not, that makes her family.

  ‘Please, Min, let it go,’ I say tiredly. ‘It’s one weekend of my life. I think we can all get through it without killing each other.’

  ‘We’ve got nearly seven weeks,’ Min says, changing tack with dizzying speed. ‘I’ve got this great diet – you’ll love it. Paleo meets Weight Watchers, you’ll drop a stone without even noticing. I’d lend you something of mine to wear, but you’re too tall—’

  I hear small footsteps upstairs, and close the kitchen door so I’m not overheard.

  ‘Min, I’m not trying to compete with Caz. That ship has sailed. She’s twenty-nine and looks like a supermodel, whereas my boobs are in a race to my navel, and even my earlobes have wrinkles. I could diet my arse off and I’d still never have her cheekbones.’ I sigh. ‘I appreciate the pep talk, but even if I could afford a celebrity makeover, what’s the point? How would breaking up Kit’s family help anyone now?’

  ‘It would put your family back together.’

  ‘No. It wouldn’t.’

  Min’s scowl fills the screen. ‘You’re too nice.’

  I eye the invitation on the mantelpiece. Andrew and I had a deal. A deal that didn’t involve accepting invitations to my parents’ golden wedding celebrations, or coming anywhere near the rest of my family, for that matter. A deal he’s broken, even though I told him there’d be consequences.

  ‘Actually, Min,’ I say, turning the invitation face down. ‘I’m not that nice.’

  Chapter 3

  Caz

  Angie is already jammed in our usual corner at the bar of the Chelsea Potter when I arrive. The pub is packed, with people spilling out onto the street, and it takes me several minutes to elbow my way to her side. ‘That better be a double,’ I say grimly, as she hands me a gin and tonic.

  She raises a pierced eyebrow as I drain it in a single gulp. ‘Tough day?’

  ‘Tough week, and it’s still only Thursday.’ I slide onto the stool she’s saved me and put my mobile on the bar in case Andy calls. ‘You’re not going to believe this. Tina Murdoch’s going to be my liaison on the Univest account.’

  Angie whistles. ‘You’re kidding. How the fuck did she pull that off?’

  ‘Her career’s soared since she left us and joined Univest.’ I signal to the barman for another drink, twisting my long blonde hair up away from my face and securing it with a silver clip. ‘What I can’t get over is why Patrick’s agreed to it. After she sabotaged us on the Tetrotek ad campaign, you’d think he wouldn’t let her within a hundred metres of the building.’

  Angie reaches for a bowl of pistachios. ‘If he’s on board, you’re stuck with it. Think you can work with her?’

  ‘Not so far. She’s nixed every idea I’ve presented, and already gone over my head to Patrick to complain. She’s insisting on bringing in a PR consultant from outside. I almost hope he takes me off the campaign and gives it to someone else.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘No, I don’t.’ I scowl at my drink. ‘I’m not going to let Tina win, but if this goes on, one of us is going to end up in a body bag.’

  Tina Murdoch, my bête noire. Last time we worked together, she almost got me fired. The irony is, she’s the one who gave me my big break in advertising, promoting me to a major campaign when I was only in my first year at Whitefish. She saw herself as my mentor, and made a big show of supporting the ‘sisterhood’ and helping young women up the ladder. Then she introduced me to Andy at an RSPCA fundraiser whose campaign Whitefish had worked on – although Andy doesn’t remember that first meeting. But when Andy and I officially became an item, my relationship with Tina instantly went south. I suspect she had her eyes on him herself, but whatever it was that chapped her ass, she’s had it in for me ever since.

  I haven’t even worked up a campaign pitch for Univest yet, let alone presented it, but Tina’s insisting on a written promotional plan, copy platform details, and a full budget breakdown per territory and media format, all by the end of the month. It’s impossible, and she knows it. Nolan, our Creative Director, is threatening to quit, and the rest of the creatives are on the verge of revolting. Although, as Andy dryly pointed out last night when I’d finished ranting, they’re pretty revolting at the best of times.

  Angie clinks her glass to mine. ‘Fuck it. It’s nearly Friday.’

  ‘Yeah. Fuck it.’

  She cracks open another pistachio, and tosses the shells back in the bowl. ‘You in town this weekend? There’s a great band playing at Borderline on Saturday night.’

  I grimace. ‘Can’t. We’re in Brighton.’

  ‘Shit, again?’

  ‘It’s our weekend with the kids.’

  ‘Can’t they come up here? My sister would babysit for the night.’

  ‘Louise won’t let them.’ I reach across the counter for the bowl of pistachios. ‘She says they’re too young to travel up on the train on their own. It’s ridiculous. Bella’s sixteen. At her age, I was hitching to Crete.’ I sigh. ‘Mind you, there’s barely enough room to swing a cat in our flat, never mind find room for three kids. Kit has to bunk in with Tolly, and Bella ends up on the sofa with her shit all over the place. At least in Brighton, they have their own bedrooms.’

  ‘Christ. I don’t know how you put up with it.’

  ‘I don’t have a lot of choice. They’re Andy’s kids.’

  Angie shoots me a look, her funky eyebrows almost disappearing into her turquoise-tipped
black hair. We’ve been BFFs since our primary school days in Dagenham, and she knows me better than anyone, including Andy. We drifted apart a bit during our uni years, when I was at Bristol and she was studying fashion at St Martins, but we’ve been joined at the hip ever since I moved back to London. We couldn’t be more different; I’m ambitious and driven, whereas Angie never thinks beyond the next round of drinks. Her idea of a manicure is to hack at her nails with a Stanley knife. But she knew my mother before her accident; she understands where I’ve come from, and what I’ve had to do to get to where I am. Apart from Andy and Kit, she’s my only real family.

  Angie knows kids were never part of my plan, never mind three of them. But Louise played a blinder when she got herself knocked up with Tolly. She nearly pulled it off, too.

  ‘Talk of the devil,’ I groan, as my mobile lights up. ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’

  ‘What does she want?’

  ‘God knows.’ My tone is light, but I feel the familiar knot of tension in my stomach. ‘It’s a bit early for her usual rant. She must have hit wine o’clock ahead of schedule.’

  ‘Ignore her, Caz. Let it go to voicemail.’

  I’m tempted, but then the familiar guilt kicks in. Once the other woman, always the other woman. It doesn’t matter how unreasonable Louise is, or that she was the reason Andy ended their marriage, not me. Somehow, I’ll always owe her.

  ‘She’ll only keep calling. It’s better to let her get it out of her system. Watch my bag for me, would you?’ I push myself off my stool and head to the back of the pub, near the loos, where it’s a little quieter. ‘Hello, Louise.’

  ‘This is the third time I’ve called,’ Louise says sharply. ‘You need to keep your phone on. You never know what might happen.’

  The band around my chest tightens. Breathe, I tell myself. ‘My phone was on—’

  ‘Well, never mind that now. I don’t have time to teach you how to be a good mother. I’m sure you’ve forgotten, but it’s Bella’s play on Saturday. She asked me to call and make sure Andrew is coming.’

  Shit. It’d totally slipped my mind. ‘Of course we haven’t forgotten,’ I fib. ‘We’ve been looking forward to it.’

  ‘It’s at seven. You’ll need to get there earlier if you want good seats.’

  ‘Fine. We’ll be there in plenty of time.’

  ‘Min and I are planning to take them to The Coal Shed to celebrate afterwards,’ Louise adds. ‘A special treat, since this is her first big role.’

  So much for being broke. The Coal Shed is one of the most expensive restaurants in Brighton. Louise is always nagging Andy to increase her child support, even though she works full-time herself. She seems to think we’re rolling in it. The only reason we can afford two homes is because I already had the Fulham flat long before Andy and I met. We’d never be able to afford it now. And our house in Brighton is mortgaged up to the hilt. Andy earns a good salary as INN’s Early Evening News anchor, but it’s not the silly money Louise seems to think it is. We’re talking cable, after all. What with maintenance and child support and private school fees, she takes nearly two-thirds of everything Andy earns.

  It suddenly occurs to me that this is Andy’s weekend with the children anyway. I’d love nothing better than a weekend alone with Andy and Kit, but my husband would be really upset, and he’d blame me. ‘Sorry, but it’s our weekend, Louise,’ I say politely. ‘I think Andy’s already made plans to take them out to dinner.’

  ‘Well, he can change them, can’t he?’

  ‘He hasn’t seen them for two weeks,’ I point out. ‘He wants to spend some time with them.’

  ‘What do you care? They’re not even your children,’ Louise cries, all pretence at civility evaporating. ‘Bella is my daughter. I should be the one to take her out to dinner on her big night! She’d be spending it with both her parents if it wasn’t for you.’

  ‘Louise, please—’

  ‘I’ll call Andrew. I should have phoned him in the first place. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s the organ grinder I need to speak to, not his monkey.’

  ‘You do that,’ I snap, ending the call.

  My stomach churns, and I taste acid at the back of my throat. It’s bad enough having to deal with Tina at work, but at least I can keep her out of my bedroom. There’s no escaping Andy’s ex-wife.

  It’s been more than four years since they split up, but Louise shows no signs of moving on. If anything, she’s getting worse. The sniping, the mind games, the way she poisons Bella and Tolly against me, constantly guilt-tripping Andy – she just has to snap her fingers, and he comes running. And then there are the phone calls. Sometimes she’s sobbing down the line, begging me to let him ‘come home’ to her; other times she yells abuse until I’m the one in tears when I finally hang up the phone. She’s smart enough only to call me when she knows Andy’s at work, or away on an assignment. She knows I can’t say anything to him, or I’ll look like a jealous bitch.

  And what makes it so much worse is that she’s nice as pie to my face. The other day, Andy even commented on how well we got on. After everything she did to him, to us, he still has no idea what she’s really like.

  To my surprise, my eyes suddenly blur. I’m so tired of the constant fighting, the running battles over money and the children. If I’d had any idea what it was going to be like, I’d have thought twice before I ever agreed to marry Andy.

  No, I wouldn’t. I’d walk over hot coals for my husband. Louise is a bitch, but I’m not going to let her get to me. I’m just tired, that’s all.

  Gathering my bag from the barstool, I fish out a twenty from my wallet and put it on the bar. ‘I’m so sorry, Angie. I’m going to have to go. Louise is on the warpath, and I’d totally forgotten Bella has this play on Saturday. I’m going to have to work tonight instead, or I’ll never get everything done by Monday.’

  ‘Hey, not a problem.’ Angie shrugs. ‘I get it. Let’s pick up next week, yeah?’

  I kiss her cheek. ‘You are a total star.’

  ‘I know.’ She grins. ‘That cute girl by the window in green? She’s been giving me the eye since I got here. You’re doing me a favour.’

  She blows me a kiss, and I squeeze my way through the throng of people and out onto the pavement. My phone rings again before I’ve even gone ten paces.

  ‘Andy, I’m sorry,’ I sigh. ‘I shouldn’t have hung up on Louise. It’s just, it was so noisy in the pub, and I thought it’d be easier if—’

  ‘Where the hell are you?’

  ‘Heading towards the tube station. I should be home in half an hour—’

  ‘You were supposed to pick up Kit at five,’ Andy says tersely.

  I stop still in the street. ‘You said you were getting him.’

  ‘I said I’d try,’ he snaps. ‘We agreed you’d collect him unless you heard otherwise, remember? And I left you a voicemail telling you I couldn’t make it. Don’t you check your messages?’

  ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry—’

  ‘I just had a call from his child-minder when I was in the middle of taping an interview, and we’re going to have to redo the whole thing. Greta says she reminded you this morning? He needed to be collected on time so she could get away to her evening class.’

  ‘Is he still with her?’

  ‘I’ve asked Lily to go round and pick him up. She’ll keep him next door with the twins until you get home.’

  I feel like the worst mother in the world as I flag down a cab. ‘I really am sorry, Andy. I should’ve checked my phone. I honestly thought you were—’

  ‘It’s not me you need to apologise to. Greta says she can’t have him back if we’re not going to pick him up on time.’ I hear someone in the background calling his name. ‘Look, I’ve got to go and redo my interview. You’ll have to sort it out with Greta. And if she won’t take him anymore, you’ll just have to find someone else.’

  Climbing into the back of the cab, I give the driver our address, staring out of the win
dow as we head back down the King’s Road. Andy didn’t say this would never have happened on Louise’s watch, no matter how chaotic her week, but he didn’t need to. We both know that’s what he was thinking.

  Chapter 4

  Louise

  ‘You reminded Dad about tomorrow, right?’ Bella asks.

  I set Tolly’s plate of spaghetti hoops in front of him, and whip Bella’s cheese on toast out from under the grill. Until I get paid at the end of the month, it’s this or baked beans. ‘I told you, darling. Dad’s out on a story all day, his phone went straight to voicemail, but I texted him and left a message with his secretary.’

  Bella flops into a kitchen chair, the long black sleeves of her sweater trailing across her plate as she pokes suspiciously at her dinner. I don’t blame her for being wary: no cheese is meant to be this yellow. ‘Have we got any Worcestershire?’

  I pass her the bottle. ‘You need to call Caz and tell her to remind him,’ she adds, smothering her food with sauce. ‘He’ll forget otherwise.’

  ‘I spoke to her yesterday, and reminded her. Dad’s not going to forget, darling.’

  ‘And she definitely said they were coming?’

  ‘She promised they’d be there.’

  Bella shoots me a look. ‘You were nice to her, weren’t you, Mum?’

  I hesitate. I’m civil to Andrew’s second wife when I have to be, but Andrew and I always make arrangements for the children’s weekend visits ourselves. Voluntarily picking up the phone, asking Caz to make sure my daughter’s father didn’t forget her school play, stirred dark feelings I thought I’d put behind me. I may not have been quite as civil to her as I should have been.

  ‘Of course,’ I say.

  ‘Can you call her again now? Just to make sure?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ I unplug my phone from its charger on the counter. ‘Make sure Tolly eats the sausages as well as the hoops. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  I go outside and walk down to the vegetable garden, where I can be certain I won’t be overheard, and pace up and down between the broad beans, my mobile in my hand. Every time I call Caz, it feels like another surrender, the yielding of yet more precious family terrain. Asking her for her co-operation legitimises her role in the parenting of my children. But Bella needs her father to be at the play. Our divorce came at the worst possible time for her, when she was on the cusp of adolescence; every relationship she has with a man going forward will follow the template set by the one she has with Andrew. I don’t want her to grow up attention-seeking and needy because he failed her.