The Model Wife Part 9

'Mummeeee!' came floating through the door.

'Oh, no,' they both groaned.

'Ignore her,' Luke implored.

'Mummeeee!'

'Come on.'

'No! I can't.'

Luke groaned again. 'You've got to stop running to that child,' he said, but Poppy had already crossed the hall to her daughter's room. 'Hey, gorgeous,' she said to Clara, who was standing up in her cot, grinning at the sight of her. 'Come into bed with us. It's Daddy's birthday. Will you say happy birthday, Daddy?'

'Ha'ee birthday,' said Clara, as Poppy plonked her down beside her groaning father.

'Aah. That's so cute.' Poppy kissed her. 'Now I'm going to tell Daddy what I've got planned for today. Granny Louise is coming over and so Mummy is going to take Daddy out for lunch.' She realized uneasily that more and more she communicated with Luke through the medium of their daughter.

'Oh?' said Luke. He sounded less than delighted.

'Yes, I've booked Orrery.' She looked at him. 'Is that OK?'

'It's just...' Luke sighed. 'Sorry, darling, I should have told you. But I've got to go somewhere.'

Poppy felt as if she'd been hit. 'What?'

'I'm really sorry. I meant to tell you. It slipped my mind. The children are taking me out for lunch. So...' He flailed around like a drowning wasp. 'It's great that Louise is going to babysit, though. Why don't you take advantage of it? Go out. Meet your friends. Or something.'

'I was all excited about our lunch,' Poppy said in a small voice.

'We could go out for dinner.' Luke's heart sank at the thought of two big meals. His hand drifted down to his waist. He could definitely pinch more than a couple of inches. He was haunted by the ghost of his chubby younger self. He glanced in the mirror. His face was still a little red, he just hoped Dr Mazza was right about it fading over the weekend.

'I don't think we can get a babysitter,' Poppy said. 'Glenda can't do it this weekend. That's why I asked Mum. Ow, Clara. Stop pulling Mummy's hair!'

'Well, we'll go out at some point in the week.' Luke rolled out of bed and padded into the en suite. Poppy lay trying to cuddle Clara, who was completely uninterested, preferring to rip pages out of a toy catalogue. Tears p.r.i.c.ked Poppy's eyes. She'd been so keyed up about taking Luke out for a romantic lunch, coming back to a hopefully empty house and making love and then, perhaps, having that discussion again about another baby. But as ever, Luke's other family took priority. And as ever, Poppy could hardly complain, given how she'd stolen him from them.

Luke emerged from the shower. 'I tell you what: why don't I take Clara down for breakfast and you can get some more sleep.'

'But it's your birthday!'

Luke smiled ruefully. Poppy was still at an age where birthdays were something to celebrate rather than to make you groan in horror. 'That's why I'd like some quality time with my daughter. Come on, Clah-Clah. Shall we have breakfast together?'

'Croissant!'

'I got croissants for a special birthday breakfast,' Poppy explained. 'And your present's on top of the fridge.' She peered at him. 'Ow! Your face does look sore. Are you sure it was a dentist and not a butcher you saw?'

'It looks worse than it feels,' Luke said abruptly, kissing her on the forehead. 'Now go back to sleep.'

Poppy didn't think she'd be able to. She lay listening to Clara clas.h.i.+ng pan lids and Luke opening and shutting cupboard doors, still brooding on her disappointment. Still, she thought, Luke was right, she could do something with this unexpected time off. But what? She thought of activities where Clara was distinctly unwelcome. The cinema, maybe? But only losers went to see films alone. A museum? Usually Clara came with her, but it might be an idea to go somewhere like the John Soane Museum in Holborn, which was so densely packed with trinkets it had been a bit of a nightmare to negotiate with a buggy. On her own Poppy could take a really good look at things.

Cheered at the idea, she drifted off to be woken a couple of hours later by the doorbell ringing and then voices in the hall. Of course, Mum had said she'd come about eleven. Rolling out of bed, she went to the landing. Sure enough, she could hear her mother talking to her husband.

'Happy birthday, Luke. Fifty-two, eh? G.o.d, how does that feel? It's bad enough being forty-five. You are looking very well on it, I must say. Is that a shaving rash? Your skin is a little bit blotchy.'

'Granny!'

'Now you know I don't like to be called that, Clara. I'm Louise. Louise who has brought the most gorgeous gorgeous party dress for you. It was in the Moschino sale. I just do hope you won't put your sticky fingers all over it.' She knelt down and clapped her hands so her discreet silver jewellery rattled. Clara giggled and Poppy felt a little surge of hope. All right, so Louise hadn't been the best mother, but maybe it wasn't too late for her to redeem herself. party dress for you. It was in the Moschino sale. I just do hope you won't put your sticky fingers all over it.' She knelt down and clapped her hands so her discreet silver jewellery rattled. Clara giggled and Poppy felt a little surge of hope. All right, so Louise hadn't been the best mother, but maybe it wasn't too late for her to redeem herself.

'Hi, Mum,' she said, coming down the stairs and inhaling the familiar aroma of Obsession. As usual, her mother was dressed more for a day trawling Bond Street than rolling on the floor with her granddaughter. Louise's tiny figure, maintained through a diet endorsed by Gillian McKeith and a weekly regime of two step cla.s.ses, one power-yoga session and daily sit-ups, was encased in a knee-length denim skirt, a black leather jacket and a cream silk blouse that radiated dry-clean-only vibes. Her black hair gleamed, her make-up was subtle but immaculate. As ever, Poppy wondered if two such different physical types could truly be related. She presumed she got her Viking looks from her father, but she'd never know for sure.

'h.e.l.lo, darling,' Louise said, eyeing her stained dressing gown warily as if it might be contagious. 'How are you?'

'Fine. I-'

'I have the most appalling appalling headache again,' Louise continued. 'And my hay fever's started already.' headache again,' Louise continued. 'And my hay fever's started already.'

'Oh, poor you.'

'Yes. Well. That's the price you pay for working every hour G.o.d sends to build up a business.'

'It was really kind of you to take time out to babysit,' Poppy said humbly. She knew the script backwards.

Louise looked down at her tan, knee-length boots. 'Um. Actually. There's a bit of a problem about that, darling.'

Familiar disappointment thudded in Poppy's breastbone. 'Right,' she said cautiously.

'You see my chiropractor just called and she can fit me in at half past one, which is just as well as my neck is killing me. So I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to babysit over lunchtime after all.'

'Mum!'

'I can stay for an hour now, if you like. I don't see why it's a problem. You can take Clara with you, can't you?'

'I-' Poppy began, as Luke interrupted, 'Well, that's a shame, Louise. But don't worry, I understand. And luckily your services aren't needed because as it happens I'm going out to lunch with my other children. So all's well that ends well.'

Louise turned to Poppy, outraged. 'What? You mean you got me to babysit for nothing?'

'You weren't going to do it anyway. You could have said!'

'No, you you could have said.' could have said.'

'Luke only told me this morning.' Poppy pushed her hair away from her eyes and grabbed Luke's arm. 'Did you open your present?' she said softly.

'Oh yeah. Thanks.' He kissed her on the cheek. 'It's great. I'm going to get dressed.'

Poppy felt steamrollered. She'd spent a purgatorial morning pus.h.i.+ng a very vocal Clara round the shops finding the perfect cashmere T-s.h.i.+rt to match the colour of Luke's eyes. She'd paid a vast price for it well, Luke had paid really, but still... and this was all the thanks she got. She felt like an old pair of socks that no one could be bothered to retrieve from the bottom of the laundry bin.

Louise cleared her throat. 'I don't suppose a cup of tea would be too much to ask for?'

The kitchen was its usual clutter of dirty cereal bowls, the floor was covered in plastic toys. Sometimes it made Poppy despair that she spent all day tidying up only for Clara to displace it all again. Louise navigated her way through the mess, wrinkling her nose.

'This place is a tip, Poppy. I can't believe you have a cleaner.'

'She only comes once a week.'

'And what do you do on the other six days? Honestly! You should be so lucky. When you were Clara's age I certainly didn't have the luxury of someone to help me out.'

'You had an au pair,' Poppy said softly.

'Sorry?' But Louise was never that interested in what anyone else had to say. 'Have you got any herbal? Tea and coffee is incredibly bad for the skin, you know, sweetheart. All that caffeine. Makes you old before your time. Like kids.'

'So what's the news, Mum?' Poppy said, determined not to rise to the bait. 'How's Gary?'

Gary was Louise's on-off walker, a bald widower with a heart of gold. Louise wouldn't dignify him with the term boyfriend. When asked why, she'd reply: 'He works in insurance and he's got a hearing aid.' Gary was a very useful escort to the cinema and to tennis-club functions, who was shelved whenever someone more appealing came on the scene.

As usual, at the mention of Gary, Louise wrinkled her nose as she might at one of Clara's used nappies. 'He's fine. He's booked a little holiday for us in the Lake District.'

'Oh, how lovely.' Poppy yearned for a holiday, but even though Luke got a very generous six weeks off a year, three of them had to be spent with his children and the other three had to be spent finis.h.i.+ng his book. 'We'll fit in something,' he said, whenever she asked him about it, but they never did.

'Hmmm. The hotel's only four stars, but it does have a spa. Of course, we're sharing a room, but that shouldn't be a problem, thanks to these new sleeping pills I've got.'

'Mum!'

'One in his gla.s.s at dinner and one in mine and there'll be no hanky panky,' Louise continued.

'Why didn't you just ask him to book separate rooms?'

'He'd have been upset, and I can't stand it when Gary gets upset. This puppy-dog look comes into his eyes and... Oh, Clara! Off Louise please! I don't want you laddering my tights.'

Poppy opened her arms. 'Come to Mummy.' She hugged her daughter tight, inhaling her sweetness, marvelling at the softness of her skin and hair.

'Oh, darling, I was was hoping for fresh.' Louise plucked the teabag out of her mug and gazed at it balefully. 'Did I tell you Christine and I are off next weekend to a spa in Malaga? Should be lovely. I've booked a facial, a full body scrub and a Thai head ma.s.sage so far.' She looked her daughter up and down. 'Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Any more thoughts about going back to work?' hoping for fresh.' Louise plucked the teabag out of her mug and gazed at it balefully. 'Did I tell you Christine and I are off next weekend to a spa in Malaga? Should be lovely. I've booked a facial, a full body scrub and a Thai head ma.s.sage so far.' She looked her daughter up and down. 'Anyway, enough about me. What about you? Any more thoughts about going back to work?'

Not you too! Poppy felt a sudden flash of resolve.

'Actually, yes,' she said. 'I'm about to hire a nanny.'

Louise put down her cup in surprise. 'Really?'

'Yes. She's just finished working for a colleague of Luke's. They say she's great.'

'Polish is she? I hope so. They're the best girls at the moment, so loving and excellent at housework, which wouldn't go amiss. And cheap. I wish there'd been more of them around when you were growing up.'

'I don't know where she's from. Her name's Brigita.'

'Almost definitely Polish. Don't hire an Australian whatever you do, they're always picking up venereal diseases and getting drunk on duty. Still, that's the best news I've heard in ages, Poppy. Get you out of the house at last. Maybe you're a chip off the old block after all.' Louise looked dubious at this p.r.o.nouncement. She took a sip of her tea. 'Ugh. This tastes like mud.'

'The teabags are quite old,' Poppy admitted. She vaguely remembered buying them when she was pregnant with Clara and being good about what she put in her body.

Luke reappeared, in chinos and a stripy s.h.i.+rt looking very Ralph Lauren. 'Well, I'm off now,' he said sheepishly.

'And I'd better be going too.' Louise pushed her mug aside. 'Can't finish that anyway.' She bent down and kissed Clara on the nose. 'Now you be a good girl for your mummy,' she said, then she pecked Poppy on the cheek. 'And you you think about what I've been saying.' She pulled a copy of the think about what I've been saying.' She pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet Daily Prophet out of her bag and dumped it on the table. 'I'll leave you this.' out of her bag and dumped it on the table. 'I'll leave you this.'

Luke kissed Clara and then his wife.

'Look, I'm sorry about this. You should have told me you had something planned. Let's get Glenda to babysit and we'll have a special birthday celebration in the week. Wednesday's my day off.'

Watching her husband and mother walk down the front path together, Poppy felt more desolate than ever. Everyone else was going out, having lives and here she was stranded at home with a child she adored but, she could only whisper it to herself, was beginning to resent. She hated to admit it, but much as Louise infuriated her, she was slowly beginning to understand why she'd made some of her choices.

'Where Daddy?' Clara asked.

'He's gone out,' said Poppy, going back into the kitchen. She picked up the Prophet Prophet and began flicking through it, enjoying the paparazzi shots of Minnie Maltravers, her model icon, scowling into the camera as she left a restaurant, a feature about Robbie's readmission to rehab. She turned another couple of pages and... and began flicking through it, enjoying the paparazzi shots of Minnie Maltravers, her model icon, scowling into the camera as she left a restaurant, a feature about Robbie's readmission to rehab. She turned another couple of pages and...

HOW I SAID GOODBYE TO.

MY HUSBAND AND h.e.l.lO TO.

GREAT s.e.x.

With a howl of fury, Poppy threw the paper across the room. b.i.t.c.h. b.i.t.c.h. b.i.t.c.h. Now Hannah was attacking her in the b.l.o.o.d.y Prophet Prophet. Was nowhere safe any more? She retrieved it and read on, infuriated. All this guff about the children being away with their father when the truth was the children were locked in their boarding schools. It was all so unfair.

Suddenly she had had enough. The flicker of resolve she'd felt earlier, hardened into something steely, like Sarah Connor in Terminator Terminator squaring up to save the planet. She picked up her phone, scrolled rapidly through her texts and retrieved a number. squaring up to save the planet. She picked up her phone, scrolled rapidly through her texts and retrieved a number.

'h.e.l.lo, is that Brigita? Yeah, hi, my name's Poppy. I gather you're looking for a nanny job...'

13.

If Poppy's Sat.u.r.day wasn't much fun, Thea's was proving to be as about enjoyable as a colonoscopy. After her first couple of gruelling weeks back in the London office, it was time to visit her gran, a visit which, since she'd sold her car when she moved to the States and hadn't yet got a new one, involved a train ride to Guildford and a taxi to the small village where the nursing home was.

Thea felt as if a toad was lodged in her throat. She hated these visits although she never dodged them. When she'd lived in London, she'd tried to go twice a month but her time in New York had put paid to that. Gran doesn't know if I come or not, she would tell herself, all she does is sit in her armchair talking to herself, watching old films on her enormous television. But it didn't make Thea feel any better. Even if that was true, she knew her grandmother's family should be with her, at least some of the time, not some random nurse ignoring her ramblings.

It was so hard to accept how Toni Fry's life had altered in just a couple of years. Thea had always loved her grandmother's perkiness, the way she took such an interest in everything. Once Thea left home, she returned to see her mother and Trevor perhaps four times a year, but whatever else was going on in her life she visited Toni at least once a month to tell her about her achievements and where she was going next. Gran loved hearing stories about trips to Iraq and Afghanistan. 'Girls these days are so lucky to have such adventures,' she'd say longingly. 'Make the most of it for your gran. I'm living through you.'

But one Sunday four years ago, Thea arrived at the bungalow to find the front door wide open. She hurried inside calling: 'Gran, Gran?' No answer. She searched the house. Toni was nowhere to be found; there were no signs of an intruder. She was about to call the police, when the front door opened and her grandmother walked in wearing her dressing gown and slippers.

'What have you been doing?'

Gran looked taken aback. 'Me? I just went for a walk.'

After that, this sort of incident became more frequent. Thea remembered b.u.mping into Rosa, one of her grandmother's oldest friends, in the street. The three of them had a good chat. When Rosa finally said goodbye, Toni had turned to Thea and said, 'Darling, who was that?'

Toni was an avid reader. She'd loved books all her life, treasured them and looked after them. To help her get her brain back, Thea started sending her regular packages from Amazon. She returned from a trip to the Sudan to find Toni sitting in an armchair methodically tearing the pages into strips.

Thea could no longer avoid the truth. Something dreadful was happening. It was very, very frightening. She loved Toni so much, knew her so well, but it was as though she was becoming another person. Thea was tortured by what she might find on her next visit. Each time there were a few subtle changes. After a lifetime as a demon Scrabble player, Toni announced one night when Thea had yet again beaten her (she could have thrashed her but had deliberately held back) that she was giving up playing. She got in a muddle over her bills and red letters started arriving threatening to cut off the gas.