Despite her best efforts, Claudia caught her crying in the bathroom.
"Where's Dad?"
"I'm not sure, darling. He's gone away for a bit."
"Is he ever coming back?"
"He's coming back to see you and Suzanne, of course he is," Sophie said, hugging her daughter. "He'd never not want to see you."
Suzanne stomped in, aggravated at being left out.
"What's going on?"
"Apparently Daddy's being a bit of a cunt," said Claudia, who'd been practicing, and had a feeling she might be allowed to get away with it at the moment.
"Isn't he, Mum?"
Sophie laughed, despite herself.
"Yes, sweetheart, he is, a bit. And don't say that word."
There was still a day to go before it was time to go back to work. Matthew set about unpacking his bags and boxes, mainly to put his things in piles on the living room floor, although Helen managed to clear out one drawer in the bedroom. Among other things, Helen noticed, he seemed to have brought a pile of washing. She forced herself to offer to put it into the machine.
"No, no," he protested, "I can do it myself."
They were being very polite and on their best behavior, as if they were two strangers who had found each other through a "roommate wanted" ad. Helen realized she couldn't remember how they'd ever used to have fun together, if indeed they did.
Matthew's mobile phone rang. His sister, Amanda. He took it in the bedroom and Helen could hear his muttered, defensive conversation. When he came out, she felt genuinely sorry for him, because she guessed he'd had a sisterly dressing down. Fuck, thought Helen, how am I ever going to explain this to Mum and Dad? When the ringing started again, at about six o'clock, Matthew made a joke about throwing the phone out the window, then went white when he looked at the caller ID.
"It's Suzanne."
Helen knew a reaction was expected, but she was struggling to place quite who Suzanne was in Matthew's overstuffed family, so she settled on an expression which she thought said "Really! How interesting," but which in fact read as blank.
"My daughter."
He sounded hurt that he had to remind her.
"I know! Answer it."
More shuffling off into the bedroom, more low voices. Despite herself, Helen couldn't resist listening in. She heard Matthew comforting and reassuring Suzanne, who was obviously in pieces. He was trying to convince her things would be no different between them.
"You and Claudia can come over here whenever you like. You can meet Helen and hang out with us at the weekends."
Ignoring the slightly disturbing fact that Matthew had just used the expression "hang out," Helen went straight for the big scary thought at the heart of what she'd just heard. Never in any of her fantasies about life with Matthew, post-Sophie, did she factor in his children. There was no doubt she felt bad for them in a way she'd never imagined she could. She didn't want them to lose touch with their father, but couldn't he go and visit them somewhere? Take them to the zoo and then McDonald's for lunch, like part-time fathers always did in films?
Move back in with them and pretend nothing had happened?
It had never been a decision for Helen not to have children, it was something she had always known. The responsibility was too much, the potential for fucking it up too great. Besides, she wanted to make something of her life, be ambitious, carefree, spontaneous—everything her parents weren't. It had occurred to her that maybe that was one of the reasons she had allowed herself to be suckered into a relationship with a married man, because the last thing he was ever going to do was put pressure on her to have a child. It just hadn't occurred to her that she might end up having to be a stepmother to his children.
7
A T LUNCHTIME THE NEXT DAY, Helen went out to meet Rachel in a café on Berwick Street, having kept out of Matthew's way pretty successfully all morning. They'd decided the previous night that it wouldn't be a good idea to let the office in on their little secret at
"Where's Dad?"
"I'm not sure, darling. He's gone away for a bit."
"Is he ever coming back?"
"He's coming back to see you and Suzanne, of course he is," Sophie said, hugging her daughter. "He'd never not want to see you."
Suzanne stomped in, aggravated at being left out.
"What's going on?"
"Apparently Daddy's being a bit of a cunt," said Claudia, who'd been practicing, and had a feeling she might be allowed to get away with it at the moment.
"Isn't he, Mum?"
Sophie laughed, despite herself.
"Yes, sweetheart, he is, a bit. And don't say that word."
There was still a day to go before it was time to go back to work. Matthew set about unpacking his bags and boxes, mainly to put his things in piles on the living room floor, although Helen managed to clear out one drawer in the bedroom. Among other things, Helen noticed, he seemed to have brought a pile of washing. She forced herself to offer to put it into the machine.
"No, no," he protested, "I can do it myself."
They were being very polite and on their best behavior, as if they were two strangers who had found each other through a "roommate wanted" ad. Helen realized she couldn't remember how they'd ever used to have fun together, if indeed they did.
Matthew's mobile phone rang. His sister, Amanda. He took it in the bedroom and Helen could hear his muttered, defensive conversation. When he came out, she felt genuinely sorry for him, because she guessed he'd had a sisterly dressing down. Fuck, thought Helen, how am I ever going to explain this to Mum and Dad? When the ringing started again, at about six o'clock, Matthew made a joke about throwing the phone out the window, then went white when he looked at the caller ID.
"It's Suzanne."
Helen knew a reaction was expected, but she was struggling to place quite who Suzanne was in Matthew's overstuffed family, so she settled on an expression which she thought said "Really! How interesting," but which in fact read as blank.
"My daughter."
He sounded hurt that he had to remind her.
"I know! Answer it."
More shuffling off into the bedroom, more low voices. Despite herself, Helen couldn't resist listening in. She heard Matthew comforting and reassuring Suzanne, who was obviously in pieces. He was trying to convince her things would be no different between them.
"You and Claudia can come over here whenever you like. You can meet Helen and hang out with us at the weekends."
Ignoring the slightly disturbing fact that Matthew had just used the expression "hang out," Helen went straight for the big scary thought at the heart of what she'd just heard. Never in any of her fantasies about life with Matthew, post-Sophie, did she factor in his children. There was no doubt she felt bad for them in a way she'd never imagined she could. She didn't want them to lose touch with their father, but couldn't he go and visit them somewhere? Take them to the zoo and then McDonald's for lunch, like part-time fathers always did in films?
Move back in with them and pretend nothing had happened?
It had never been a decision for Helen not to have children, it was something she had always known. The responsibility was too much, the potential for fucking it up too great. Besides, she wanted to make something of her life, be ambitious, carefree, spontaneous—everything her parents weren't. It had occurred to her that maybe that was one of the reasons she had allowed herself to be suckered into a relationship with a married man, because the last thing he was ever going to do was put pressure on her to have a child. It just hadn't occurred to her that she might end up having to be a stepmother to his children.
7
A T LUNCHTIME THE NEXT DAY, Helen went out to meet Rachel in a café on Berwick Street, having kept out of Matthew's way pretty successfully all morning. They'd decided the previous night that it wouldn't be a good idea to let the office in on their little secret at
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