Erin Kaye - THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS

Louise hardly registered the apology. ‘I’ve never been ashamed of what I did and I won’t let you make me ashamed now.’ She turned her back to her father and pulled a hankie from her pocket. She dabbed at her eyes – tears had fallen in spite of her resolve – and tried to compose herself. Her father continued.

‘Look, I can’t lie to you about how your mother and I feel about what you did. You knew what we thought from the outset. You can’t make us approve, Louise. But we can accept. And we do. Look, perhaps it’s best if we just move on from here. Put all this behind us and concentrate on doing the best for Oli from now on.’

But that wasn’t enough, not for Louise. By sheer force of willpower and reasoned argument she had thought she could blast her way through every objection, every taboo and force her family to come round to her way of thinking. Now she realised that what she craved most was the one thing she would never get – her parents’ wholehearted approval.

‘Try to put yourself in my shoes, Dad,’ she said quietly. ‘What would you have done if your husband didn’t want children and time was running out? What if you knew you’d never meet another guy in time to have his kids? What would you have done if you’d been me?’

But there was no answer. She felt a hand on her shoulder, a gesture of reconciliation. But she did not want it, not without the approval that she so desperately sought. She dipped her shoulder – and the hand slipped away.

That night she dreamt of Cameron once more and in this dream he was on a small fishing boat with Oli out on the Firth of Forth, teaching him to fish for mackerel. The two of them wore matching yellow oilskins, Oli a mini-me version of Cameron. She was on the boat watching and yet she wasn’t – for they could neither see her nor hear her. She smiled at the tenderness with which Cameron positioned Oli’s hands and the patience with which he listened to the child’s disjointed chatter. And when she woke up – before she remembered that it had only been a dream – she was happy.

It was early, but the day was already hot and sticky. In the kitchen, Joanne, in a thin silk dressing gown, wiped perspiration from her brow. She collected together the things for making sandwiches – bread, butter, ham, cheese and shop-bought egg mayonnaise. Heidi settled on the floor at her feet, nostrils flaring in the vain hope that a morsel of food might fall into her jaws. Two weeks had passed since the party and Joanne still couldn’t look back on the events of the day without flinching in embarrassment. She hoped no one outside the kitchen had heard her argument with Phil.

She laid six slices of wholegrain bread on the chopping board and buttered them haphazardly. She was still furious with her husband for coming home late and drunk that day and she was just as mad with herself for rising to the bait. She should’ve simply ignored him when he came in – she ought to have challenged him after everyone had gone. Not that the outcome would’ve been any different, she thought bitterly. He never took responsibility for his own behaviour. She put ham in the sandwiches, stacked them and cut them with a knife. Heidi made a pathetic whimpering sound and rested her head on her paws, her dark eyes staring up at Joanne like oiled chestnuts.

She sighed. Why couldn’t she and Phil get on these days? Why was it such mixed messages with him? He loved her food, wanted her home and yet, and yet … he didn’t see her as a person. Was that the problem between them? Because there was a problem, that much she had acknowledged to herself. The question was – was she at fault in some way? Was she bossy and controlling, like Louise and Sian said she was? Did that make her hard to live with? And, more importantly, what could be done to put things right between them?

It hadn’t always been like this. Once they’d worked together as a team, curled up together on the sofa at night with a glass of wine each, talking about their day, making plans together. She’d been warm and loving towards him, he’d been gentle and kind. But somewhere, in the hubbub of family life, that easy intimacy had been lost. If only he would spend more time at home, if they both made the effort, maybe they could find a way to reconnect.

Heidi licked the top of her foot making Joanne laugh – with no one about to observe the breaking of house rules, she tossed the dog a slice of ham. Heidi gobbled it up and slobbered over Joanne’s foot some more by way of thanks.

Holly shuffled sleepily into the room just then with her pink dressing gown hanging open and huge furry slippers in the shape of bunny rabbits on her feet. ‘What’re you doing, Mum?’

‘Making sandwiches for our picnic.’

‘Picnic?’ said Holly sleepily.

‘Yeah. Don’t you remember? We’re going to the beach today with Auntie Louise and Oli.’

‘Oh yeah. I forgot!’ said Holly, her eyes lighting up and a big smile spreading across the broad face she had inherited from her father. ‘Can I help?’

Joanne smiled. Holly was such a good-natured child – in marked contrast to her resentful little sister who walked around as though a black cloud hung over her. ‘I’m okay here. But I’ll tell you what you could do for me.’

‘What?’

‘Go and get dressed and tell Abbey to get dressed too. And while you’re upstairs tell Maddy it’s time to get up. In fact, go in and open her curtains. That should do the trick.’

Holly dashed out of the room. ‘Abbey,’ she shouted, ‘we’re going to the beach!’

Minutes later Abbey was in the room, her face contorted with rage. ‘I can’t go to the beach,’ she said. ‘Me and Katie-May are going to make a shop today.’

Joanne rolled her eyes, put a round of sandwiches in a sandwich bag and sealed it shut. ‘Look,’ she said, taking a bunch of grapes out of the fridge and rinsing them under the cold tap. ‘You can play shops with Katie-May any day of the week. We’ve never been to the beach before with Auntie Louise and Oli. Won’t it be fun? You can show Oli where the crabs hide.’

‘I don’t want to.’

Joanne turned off the tap, set the grapes on the draining board and turned to face Abbey. If her youngest daughter thought there was any mileage in putting up a fight, Joanne was determined to deal that misconception a fast and decisive blow. ‘You are going to the beach,’ she said with dark menace, enunciating each word like a child in the early stages of learning to read. ‘You are going to enjoy it,’ she said, her pace picking up to a canter, ‘and you will not spoil today for me or Auntie Louise. Now go upstairs, get dressed and pack your things.’

She turned back to the sink and, when she looked a minute later, the child was gone. She hoped Abbey wasn’t going to be this difficult all summer long. Joanne enjoyed fantastic school holiday arrangements from her job at the pharmacy – her employers were exceptionally generous in permitting her to take eight weeks off and she was grateful. But, still, she missed the work and her colleagues. She would be ready to go back when the holidays were over. But not yet – the prospect of a day at the beach filled her with excitement.

Louise had taken some persuading – she was apparently still annoyed with Joanne for not correcting the stories their mother and father had circulated about her. But the fact that she had agreed to come in the end was a sign that she was prepared to forgive – albeit probably for Oli’s sake.

An hour and a half later, dressed in a knee-length denim skirt, lace-up red plimsolls and a blue and white striped T-shirt, Joanne herded everyone, including Heidi, into her silver Volkswagen Touran. Naturally an argument ensued between Holly and Abbey about who would get to sit in the third-row seat. This was a coveted position because the fold-down seats in the boot were rarely used and therefore somewhat of a novelty. Abbey, the loser, after the argument was settled with the toss of a coin, sat fuming in the middle seat of the second row, her arms folded across her chest and a look on her face that said she would happily throttle anyone who came within a foot of her. She ignored Oli, strapped in beside her, who seemed to be the only one as excited as Joanne. Poor Heidi was curled up uncomfortably on the floor of the middle row along with an assortment of beach bags, buckets and spades.