Читать книгу The Postcard - Fern Britton - Страница 15

Getting up the next morning, Penny couldn’t remember when she’d had more than a two-hour run of sleep. She felt weak and dizzy most of the time. Her appetite had drifted and her eating had become chaotic. Jenna was the centre of her being and yet she was being grizzly and difficult and Penny had started to berate herself for being a terrible mother. Simon, who was caught up in his preparations for Christmas and all the needs of his flock, hadn’t appreciated how low she was until last night.

Penny had had too much wine and accused him of ignoring the most important commandment of all. ‘Remember, do unto others as you would have them do unto you!’ she shouted at him. ‘Would you love me more if I dressed up as Mary and slept in the garage with Jenna in the wheelbarrow? Chuck in a couple of sheep and an angel or two then we’d have your full attention?’

‘Penny,’ he said, ‘you and Jenna are my top priority but I’m a vicar and this is one of the busiest times of the year for me.’

She clung to him, starting to cry. ‘It’s busy for me too. Christmas is less than four weeks away and I haven’t done anything. No presents. No cards. No tree. No husband to help me.’

Simon had held her tight. ‘OK, my love, OK. You tell me what you’d like me to do and I’ll do it.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise,’ he’d said.

Penny drooped down the stairs and sat at the bottom to listen out for Jenna who was settling down for her morning sleep. Satisfied that all was quiet she hauled herself to her feet and made her way to the office. She was exhausted mentally and emotionally but, with wearying inevitability, she knew she had an email to write.

To: Mavis Crewe

From: Penny Leighton

Subject: The Mr Tibbs Mysteries

Dear Mavis,

I can’t tell you how upset I am by your decision but I will honour it. In the next day or two I shall talk to David Cunningham and Dahlia Dahling’s agents and let them know that there is to be no more Mr Tibbs. David and Dahlia have worked so hard on their lead characters and I know they will be as distraught as I am seeing Mr Tibbs and Miss Trumpet leave our screens. I shall have to work on a press release that will go out once all the cast and production team have received the news.

On a personal note, I can’t express how much I shall miss you. Your friendship has meant a lot to me. However, as you said, all good things come to an end and I guess this is the end.

With fondest memories,

Penny.

She pressed send and quickly wrote another email, this time to Jack Bradbury, confirming that she accepted Mr Tibbs was no more and that she would not be presenting Channel 7 with plans for a future series.

In the kitchen she opened the fridge and took out an opened bottle of Chablis. She looked at the kitchen clock. Just after eleven fifteen. She reached for a wine glass. The bottle of wine was cool in her hand and, as she pulled out the cork the nostalgic smells of hot, uncomplicated summers assaulted her. She poured just half a glass. That would be plenty to take the edge off. She pulled her chair, with the soft cashmere cushion on it, out from under the table and sat down. She put the glass to her mouth and drank. The wine slid down like oil into a rusted engine. She could feel her body waking to its silky caress and took another mouthful; almost as good as the first; and another, until the glass was empty. She went to the fridge and took a last refill from the bottle. With every sip a new fear tripped into her mind: how could she ever be a good mother when her own mother had hated her? When her sister hated her so much? She sat and closed her eyes, hoping it would help shut out the memories. She knew there was another bottle in the fridge. Maybe just one more glass? The more she drank, the more relaxed she became, and the more it didn’t matter. She stood up and knocked her chair backwards, making a loud clatter. ‘Shhhhh,’ she said to the empty room, ‘mustn’t wake Jenna.’ She took the remains of the bottle to the fridge. Her legs felt wobbly. ‘Oh Penny,’ she smiled ruefully, ‘you’re pissed. You need a little lie down on the sofa. Just forty winks.’

*

Penny had come home from school and her mother was sitting in the drawing room looking wronged. ‘Hello, Mummy, are you OK?’ asked Penny.

Her mother shot her a look. ‘The doctor says your father needs a holiday. He needs a holiday? What about me? I’m the one who has suffered. I need a holiday more than he does.’

Penny went to put her hand on her mother’s knee. ‘I’ll help you. I’ll swim with him and you can get some rest.’

‘You’re not coming.’

Penny was baffled. ‘But Daddy likes to swim with me.’

‘You are staying with your aunt and uncle. You have school to go to. Daddy, Suzie and I are going to the south of France where it is warm.’ She pushed Penny’s hand away. ‘God knows how we can afford it.’

Penny didn’t understand why her mother was always going on about money when she was always at the hairdresser’s or coming home with a new dress.

‘But Daddy can, can’t he?’

‘He’ll have to. I certainly can’t.’

Penny thought about the other bit of news. She wasn’t going to join them on holiday. That hurt. She liked her uncle, her father’s brother, very much and her aunt was cuddly and kind, but she would rather be going on holiday with her family. ‘How long will you be away for?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Can I go and look at Daddy? If he’s asleep I won’t wake him. I promise.’

‘You must not go near his room. I have enough on my plate.’ Her mother got up and went looking for Suzie.

Penny sneaked upstairs and opened the door of the spare bedroom as quietly as she could. Her father was lying on his side, facing away from her, his breathing deep and rhythmic. She crept a little closer and tiptoed around the bed so that she could see his face. His eyes were shut but he looked a lot better than he had done. She climbed on to the bed and snuggled next to him. She kissed his nose. He opened his eyes slowly and looked at her with a smile. ‘Hello, Pen.’

‘Hello, Daddy.’

‘I’ve missed you.’

‘I’ve missed you too – and I’m going to miss you when you go on holiday with Mummy and Suzie.’

His face clouded momentarily. ‘Ah, Mummy’s told you, then?’

Penny nodded.

‘I’m sorry, sausage, its doctor’s orders apparently and you don’t mind being at Uncle Nick and Auntie Dawn’s do you?’

‘Not really, but I’d rather be with you.’

He put his arm around her and hugged her to him. ‘And I’d rather be with you.’

‘Penny!’ Her mother was shouting at her. ‘Penny! Wake up. Jenna’s screaming.’

Penny opened her eyes – and Simon was standing in front of her …

‘Penny, have you been drinking? What’s going on?’

She couldn’t think of a suitable answer. He turned and walked away. ‘I’d better see to Jenna. One of us has to be a responsible parent.’

*

‘He looked at me with such – disappointment.’ Penny was sitting at Helen’s kitchen table in Gull’s Cry, nursing a dry mouth and a headache.

‘Well, can’t you see why?’ said Helen worriedly. ‘Penny, how could you have done something like that when you had Jenna upstairs. Anything could have happened.’

Penny looked at her forlornly. ‘I’ve never felt as low as this. I have no energy. I look forward to nothing. I want everything to just stop. I feel I’m going mad. Mr Tibbs has come to an end, my mother has died – wouldn’t you have a little drink too?

Helen, who had had a particularly unpleasant argument with Piran not half an hour before Penny had arrived, had little patience left. ‘Penny, I’m worried about you. It’s just not like you to be so defeatist. Yes, it’s a tough time right now but you have so many blessings to count. Your life is peachy compared to others.’ She started to tick the list off on her fingers. ‘A house, a husband, a daughter, a business, money in the bank, friends – what more do you want? If I were you I’d be skipping round the village green every day, thanking my lucky stars. Couldn’t you use this time to take a little break, enjoy being with Jenna while she’s still so tiny and get back into all the TV stuff in a year or two?’

Penny was stung. ‘But if I was out for that long people would forget about me! And I know I should be grateful, of course I do. But why do I feel so unhappy? Why don’t I feel the happiness I should feel?’

Helen felt out of her depth and said more gently, ‘Penny, you must snap out of it. Go for a walk. Read a book. Go to a spa?’

‘Simon says I need to get a nanny.’

‘You do need to get a nanny.’

‘I don’t want a nanny.’

‘It wouldn’t be for you, it’s for Jenna.’

‘Because I’m such a useless mother?’ Penny’s voice started to rise in panic.

‘No, no,’ Helen tried to calm her. ‘No one is saying that but …’ She took a moment to think of the right words. ‘But you need a break and some help.’

‘I just need some sleep and for Simon to be around a bit more.’

‘And you could have that if you had a nanny.’

Penny sat back in her chair and rubbed her make-up-less eyes with her fingers. ‘I’d love a spa day.’

‘Then let’s do it.’ Helen leant across the table and held her best friend’s hand.

‘Who will have Jenna?’ countered Penny.

‘Simon will.’

‘But he’s always so busy.’

‘I’ll ask him. Anyway, it’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I’ll tell him it’s an early birthday present. Or a late one. ’

When Penny got back to the vicarage, Simon had more than a whiff of burning martyr about him. ‘Jenna’s had her supper and bath.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’m sure she’d like a story from you … if you aren’t too tired.’ To Penny’s mind he put the emphasis on the word tired to suggest she might still be full of wine.

‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Right.’ He collected up some leaflets for the Parish Council meeting. ‘Well, I’m off.’ He picked up the keys to his Volvo. ‘See you later.’

As the door clunked shut behind him Penny had to fight the urge to run after him, tell him she was so sorry for getting drunk. Sorry for being a horrible harridan. Sorry for being a bad mother. Anything to stop him from leaving her. She needed his reassurance, his security. She wanted him as she had wanted her father when he had finally left her.

She looked at herself in the mirror behind the kitchen door. Who was she? She looked like a mad woman. Her face frightened her.

Frantically she splashed herself with cold water, dried her hands by running them through her uncombed hair. She could hear Jenna calling from upstairs.

‘Come on, Penny. You can do this,’ she said to her reflection before calling out, ‘coming, my love.’

When Jenna had finally fallen asleep, Penny crept out on to the landing and down to her office. She knew she couldn’t bury her head in the sand and checked her emails. Nothing from her contacts or Jack Bradbury or Mavis Crewe. This is how it starts, she thought, one day the phone stops ringing and your career stops too.

She scrolled down her list of opened emails and found the one from her sister via Marion. She read it again. What kind of sister would withhold the information about her mother being ill, let alone dead? And to go ahead with the funeral, which she wasn’t sure she’d have attended anyway, without letting her know. Penny’s hurt balled into the back of her throat where it writhed and tightened until her body spat it out in one long wail. She sat rocking backwards and forwards on her office chair, unable to stop the noise or the tears, which now ran down her cheeks in a constant stream. She found her voice and sputtered into the air. ‘Help me! Someone help me. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this any more. I’m so tired. Please help me someone!’ Her throat constricted again and more sobs followed, but there was no one to come. After some time, and experiencing the odd sense of floating outside her body that had recently been so strong, she went to the downstairs cloakroom and rummaged on the shelves behind the coat racks where she kept the first aid tin. She opened it and the familiar smell of Savlon leaked out. She found what she wanted and put them in her cardigan pocket. She went to the kitchen, filled a large glass with tap water, and walked up the stairs

She took the strip of tablets from her pocket and carefully popped each one from its foil blister, lined them up on the bedside table, then went to look in on Jenna. She stroked the sleeping face and whispered ‘I love you so much’ to her tiny daughter. Her tears dripped on to the warm cheek of her beloved girl, causing her to give a little reflex jump, but she didn’t wake. ‘Night-night, darling. Mummy will always love you. I’ll always be here for you.’ As she left the room she saw Sniffy on the shelf. She picked him up and sniffed him before taking him to her room.

She cleaned her face and her teeth and brushed her hair. She spritzed on a little of the perfume that Simon liked and then got into bed. She lay down for a moment and, with the scene set, she felt a peacefulness that had eluded her for months. She propped herself on one elbow and picked up all the pills, put them in her mouth one by one, taking a mouthful of water with each and swallowed. She lay down with Sniffy in the crook of her arm where he had always belonged.