Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [132]
Mark had been a smoker for years. Who hadn’t? Not a serious one, more the ubiquitous “social smoker.” He’d given it up when he’d met Barbara. She didn’t want him to smoke around the children, and he wanted to be around the children. Thing was, it had been much easier than he had thought. All except for the first cigarette of the day. The one that went with Radio 4, a cup of coffee, and the Times. He went cold turkey on every other fag of the day, and it was fine. It took six months to give up that one.
And now, most other times of the day—on the average, good day—were okay. And this was the time he most missed Barbara. In the morning. His first Barbara of the day—the one who went with Radio 4, a cup of coffee, and the Times. The one who smelled of shampoo and toothpaste and Fracas, and sat next to him at the breakfast bar, and listened when he talked about the day ahead.
Maybe he should take up smoking again.
Wandering aimlessly into the kitchen in search of one of his daughters, he picked up the local paper from the kitchen counter and saw the “flats to let” section, dotted with red circles and question marks. He was reading a few, and being profoundly grateful he owned his own home, when Lisa came into the kitchen.
“What’s all this? Either things with Hannah are worse than I thought, or you’re making plans?”
Her face was full of mock reproach. “You and Hannah will be fine! It’s me, preparing to fly the nest, again! I can’t stay here forever, can I?”
He supposed not.
“Can’t go back to where I was.”
“Are you sure about that?” He hadn’t heard from Andy since they’d been to the pub. Now it seemed apparent that Lisa hadn’t, either. He’d come home hopeful. And sheepish. Desperate to tell her that he’d seen Andy, that he believed he still loved her, that he hoped there was a way through the mess. Afraid that she’d go nuts if she knew he’d interfered.
“Andy can’t forgive me, Mark. He’s made that pretty clear.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t just need more time?”
“I don’t think time will make any difference at all. Truly…I don’t think this is one of these ‘time heals all’ situations. I think I have to accept that it’s over.” Her voice broke. “And if I accept that, I have to get on with my life. ‘Move on’—isn’t that what they call it?” She sounded sarcastic, and harder than normal.
“But this is move out, not on.”
“They’re the same thing, Mark.” She smiled right at him for the first time and put her arm up, round his shoulder. “You’ll live. It’s not like I’ve been doing your laundry.”
“I meant to mention that, actually. Why not?”
“Dream on. I’ve never done a man’s laundry in my life, and I’m not starting now.”
“God save me from feminism.”
“Huh!”
“I’ll miss you.” Mark’s tone was suddenly serious. He sounded wistful.
“I’ll miss you, too. But we can’t keep playing Derby and Joan, you and me. Watching crap TV and going to bed early. Waggling our fingers at Hannah.” She wiggled, didactically, to emphasize her point. “We’re both hiding out here a bit, aren’t we?”
Mark leaned his head on her arm. “Where did they teach you to do that?”
“Do what?”
“Take a conversation about you and make it into one about me?”
“Classic deflection?!”
“Exactly! You know who.”
“Mum.”
He was right. She had been a master at it. It was how she had tackled every one of the issues she and Lisa had ever had.
“So…back to you, my evasive one. Where are you going to go?”
“Local, I hope. Somewhere I can afford, obviously. I’ve been spoiled, I’m afraid, by the whole double-income thing. Andy paid the mortgage, I did the bills. Doing both will be a stretch.”
Mark hated the idea of her struggling, but he knew her well enough to know that she would rather eat baked beans in a freezing hovel than take money from him to help out. He didn’t think it would come to that. He wondered whether he should raise the trust. He and Barbara had matching wills, but Barbara had had her own plans for the money she’d made with the shop. The girls knew Barbara had put