Persuading Austen. Brigid Coady
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rocking in the Tube she held on to the strap and wondered whether she should’ve picked up a bag of Haribo to bribe the kids with. Marie had done a whole segment last year for Easy Ladies on the dangers of sugar. Ever since then sugar was treated like a class A drug in her household.
Annie came off the Tube at Pimlico. The wind had picked up and whirled round the exit. She pulled her scarf further up over the bottom of her face. Before she headed up Tachbrook Street to Marie’s house, she popped into the corner shop. Annie grabbed the largest bag of Haribo she could see for the boys and a bar of Lindt chocolate that she would slip to Charlie. Ever since she discovered him in her kitchen looking guilty with a tell-tale smear of chocolate by his mouth, she’d kept him in chocolate. He might be a successful investment banker but in his own house he was definitely the second-class citizen.
Annie stood at the till waiting to pay and then she saw Austen Wentworth.
Her heart dropped as if falling off a cliff. It started beating again after it hit the floor.
Austen wasn’t actually there. No, it was his face on glossy paper staring at her. Make that faces. He was on the front cover of at least three gossip magazines.
‘Austen Wentworth – tells all on life and love’
‘Austen gives hope to women everywhere’
‘Austen Wentworth – who is he dating?’
Her fingers itched to pick them up. Surely it was better that she knew what was happening? Her hand reached out.
No.
She pulled it back.
But what if it was only one, for research?
Annie felt like a smoker being peer pressured into ‘just one more cigarette’.
‘Next,’ called the newsagent.
Annie moved forward and put down the Haribo and chocolate.
‘Anything else?’ The question hung there.
Two minutes later she shuffled out of the shop clutching a blue plastic bag, the tops of three glossy magazines peeking from it.
She was pathetic. She’d been clean for years.
Buying them didn’t mean reading them though.
She could leave them for Marie, as untouched as they were now. No thumbprints on the pages.
She was glad she’d added a bag of crisps. She needed the comfort.
***
‘Darling,’ Marie said. Annie winced at the volume. Marie then descended on her in a swirl of heavy floral perfume and pressed her cheek against Annie’s. The touch was fleeting.
When was the last time she’d had a proper hug from someone? Annie sighed – too long ago. She was sure her family loved her. If they thought about her, which wasn’t often.
‘Auntie Annie.’
Her knees came under attack from Archie and Hector. Okay so she did get hugs. Maybe she should amend that to grown-up hugs, ones with less snot.
‘Hello, you horrors.’
She quickly held the bag out of the way. So they didn’t get the Haribo, of course. Nothing to do with grubby fingers on the magazines.
‘Where have you been? The car will be here in an hour and I can’t get anything done with these two under my feet. Of course, Charlie was supposed to be home by now to help. You’d think I had nothing better to do than wait on him. No, Archie. Mummy can’t pick you up.’
Marie stood with her hands in the air while Archie leapt up.
‘You’ll ruin my manicure, Archie.’
‘Come here.’ Annie dropped the bag on the table and scooped up Archie before the tears, which threatened, exploded. His bottom lip was trembling and there was a sheen across his eyes.
‘You and Hector are going to tell me all about what happened at nursery today. And Mummy is going to finish getting ready.’ She motioned Marie to go with her head.
As Marie left, she whispered, ‘And then if you are very good, I have a treat for you.’
She lurched through to the kitchen with Hector clinging to her leg and Archie clasping his arms round her neck.
Marie’s house was a magazine idea of a family home. It was warm and welcoming as long as there was no one in it. As soon as you added a small child, or two, then the image was ruined, as were the distressed white surfaces. Annie herded them to the kitchen table and pulled out the bright-coloured table covering that was hidden behind the large dresser full of beautiful glass and crockery.
Paper and crayons were in a small tub in the bottom of the dresser.
Annie prayed that the boys would keep their drawing skills to the table area and not try and re-create the Sistine Chapel on the skirting boards.
***
‘Hey up, is it safe?’ a voice said from the doorway.
It was fifteen minutes later, and a balding man put his head round the door.
‘Hi, Charlie. I’d say we’re at DEFCON 3.’ Annie studied him as he came fully into the room. His suit was crumpled, his tie pulled loose, his hair mussed on top.
‘You look tired,’ she said and was then drowned out by the shouts and yells from the boys when they spotted their dad.
Charlie grimaced and then grinned as the boys threw themselves at him and started climbing him like a tree.
Annie smiled as she watched him wrestle with his kids.
It was weird to think this could’ve been her life. Charlie had wanted to date her first. They’d been friends through uni and Annie had known he had a crush on her. But then there had been Austen. And, much as Charlie was a nice guy …
No. It was silly to think about this. Austen or no Austen, she’d never have gone out with Charlie. They didn’t work that way. Of course, there was no way that Marie knew about Charlie’s crush on her. Annie shuddered at the thought of the fallout if she ever found out.
She caught Charlie’s eye. Surreptitiously she waved the bar of chocolate at him.
Thank you, he mouthed at her.
Annie popped it into the pan cupboard. Marie would never find it there; she never used them.
‘Charlie. Where have you been? The car will be here soon. Hector, let Daddy go. Charles Musgrove, go and change.’ Marie marched back into the kitchen, putting on her earrings. Her dress probably cost the same amount as the mortgage payment on the house in Clapham. Thank God Charlie could afford to keep her.
Maybe he could afford to keep Dad and Immy too?
Annie’s stomach clenched at the thought of going cap in hand to either of them.
No, she needed to work out another way. She was the one who was left with the job of looking after them. Not Charlie.
She stopped thinking about it – it wasn’t feasible – and unclasped the kids from Charlie as he rolled his eyes at Marie’s remarks. He then walked out of the kitchen, briefly air-kissing his wife’s cheek. He’d learnt the hard way not to mess with Marie’s make-up.
‘I don’t know how he can be so selfish,’ Marie said as she finished putting her earrings in. ‘Oh and I forgot to say that Henrietta and Louisa are coming with us tonight. They should be here by now. Selfishness seems to be a Musgrove trait.’ Marie’s lips thinned and Annie could see her father and Immy reflected back to her. Even though Marie was the spitting image of her mum, Molly.
‘Hallo!’
Sound and light burst into the kitchen. Annie blinked.
The Musgrove girls had arrived. They were