my work cut out forgiving her. I tell him what I saw after the funeral, I tell him what she did, I tell him what I know I can never share with my daughter.
‘That’s her stepdaughter’s husband…’ Spite tightens my lips and I can hear my own hate. ‘What sort of woman is she?’ I ask. I’m on a roll now. ‘Aside from that, her husband had only been dead a week. What sort of woman would do that?’ I want him to agree with me, to tell me she’s the worst sort of woman but instead he goes really quiet for a while and then he takes my hand. He tells me that maybe I don't know what she's going through, that maybe his leaving her, was as hard for Lucy, as it was, at the time, for me.
‘Lucy?’ How can it be as hard for Lucy? It’s not as if he walked out, it’s not as if he simply turned his back on his family and left! She could have anyone – and that includes my son-in-law. She’s gorgeous; she takes care of herself, her home, her body. I’m furious with him for not supporting me. ‘Why would you defend her?’ I feel this surge of loathing, not towards Lucy; instead it’s devoted entirely to me. It comes up now and then, not so often these days, but when it does, I feel as if I’m going to choke.
‘I’m not defending her, Gloria.’ I hear his voice and he’s calm when I’m not. ‘I just…’ he goes quiet, it’s as if he wants to say something but has changed his mind. I won’t let her ruin this too, I will not let Lucy, and my hate for her, ruin another thing in my life. I take deep breaths, I pour cool water, I can’t explain it here. I just pour cool water on the hate inside and then I look down and it’s his hand I’m holding. Paul’s hand. It’s warm and it’s holding mine back and I’m not alone with my fear. For the first time, I don’t feel so alone.
We’re on the second bottle by the time he kisses me but I know it isn't the wine that has lowered our inhibitions, it's the conversation, it's the trust – it's finding another person who gets you. For the first time in my life I feel wrapped in understanding.
The wine certainly helped in the bedroom though!
You try getting your kit off for the first time with a new man, when you’re in your fifties – I defy anyone to do it sober.
I’m not telling you about that though!
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Lucy
It is, Luke agrees, a shit time to sell.
I own an £800,000 house that used to be worth 1.2.
And yes, while I know a thing or three about real estate, for a long time, I’ve been trying to ignore that fact.
Still, whatever its value, it’s paid off now thanks to mortgage insurance, but it’s rather more complicated than that.
It would seem that he’s cashed in one life insurance policy without my knowing and there was a loan he had me take out a couple of years ago, he told me it was to do with tax and I just signed for it.
Well, I’m liable for that.
And, I have to then tell Luke about another loan I took out without him knowing, because he got so annoyed all the time about how much the pony was costing.
Then there’s my secret, secret credit card that stays hidden in my bag.
It’s not exactly a fun Saturday morning.
It soon gets worse.
‘You can use the money that’s been left in trust to Charlotte to pay her school fees,’ Luke says, ‘but does she really need to go to such an expensive school?’
‘She’s not changing schools.’ I shake my head. ‘And why should those three get a lump sum, to do what they want with, while Charlotte has to pay her own school fees?
‘Because those three,’ Luke says with more than an edge of pissed offedness at my churlishness, ‘didn’t get private school educations. Nor did they get a pony a piece.’
It’s a mess, I know that, but it’s not unsalvageable I’ve decided.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in recent days – in an effort to not think about what happened with Noel and what Gloria may or may not have seen, I’ve been trying to sort out my life and I’ve come up with a solution.