Read Online My Last Confession by Helen Fitzgerald - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Helen Fitzgerald
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for Mrs Donald’.
‘That’s not the point. Don’t visit people unless you have to.’
I didn’t push him about the ex-girlfriend thing. I didn’t want to start imagining him kissing someone else on the neck, loving someone else. This kind of probing had driven many a woman round the bend. So with my issue of the day seemingly resolved, I moved on to Chas’s. He was having a ball with Robbie, but he told me that day he had bitten the bullet and booked a date for his first ever exhibition.
‘I’m terrified,’ he admitted.
‘You’re a genius. I know you are. It’ll be fantastic.’
But his time was limited. And Chas’s cunning plan to paint and parent was (surprise, surprise) proving a disaster . So far, Robbie’s (very cute) handprints had made their way onto three of Chas’s masterpieces.
Robbie was ready for some socialising anyway, so we decided to get him into a nursery three hours each morning, for Mum and Dad to look after him three afternoons a week, and for me to cut down on Marks & Spencer’s treats and make room in our budget for a cleaner.
So when Chas went off to paint in his studio at nine that night, I felt very pleased with our plan. We had organised our lives and I had promised to keep a safe, professional distance from dangerous men about to go on trial for murder.
An excellent plan.
Wish I’d stuck to it.
14
With Jeremy in London, Amanda found herself in a huge house in the middle of nowhere with absolutely nothing to do. Or nothing she wanted to do anyway. She wasn’t a country girl, didn’t understand people who walked up hills just to walk down them again. She found the Scottish countryside so beautiful it was boring. She’d once done a driving tour of the Highlands with a friend and after days exclaiming at the rugged changeability of it she craved a loud smoky nightclub so badly she could have screamed. Without Jeremy, the Crinan Canal had nothing to offer Amanda. No pubs within walking distance , no good cafés or bookshops or litter that spoke of nights out. The canal was just that, a canal. Occasionally she saw yachts with families sitting at the lock waiting for the water to rise then fall again, and she really didn’t understand why parents would take their children on such trips, spending most of the day waiting for water to rise then fall again.
She didn’t tell her mum and dad that Jeremy had headed south. Or her friends, ’cause this was her honeymoon, this house was for her and Jeremy. So she waited, watching the lock outside, trying to understand the point of sailing and weak jacuzzi baths.
On the second morning she woke to the phone ringing. It was her boy, and he was so sorry, but he had to staywith his mum. She was having tests, and was still refusing to see anyone.
‘Let me come down!’ Amanda said, but he insisted that she stay and wait for him. ‘At least one of us should enjoy the place,’ he insisted.
*
Alone in Crinan, Amanda thought about Jeremy’s relationship with his mother. She first discovered there were serious problems between them when they decided to get married and Jeremy was determined not to invite her and even more determined not to discuss her.
‘She won’t come,’ he said. ‘There’s no point. We just don’t see eye to eye.’
He wouldn’t elaborate. ‘Please, let’s not talk about it,’ he insisted.
Amanda figured they’d just grown apart or something, and took it upon herself to intervene. One afternoon, when Jeremy was working, she visited his mother without telling him.
The house was a small terrace in Haringey. Its occupant was a thin, worn woman, dressed in pressed trousers and a tight white T-shirt and firm, fitted pink cardigan. She smelt strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. Her gaunt, heavily lined face had settled in a frown. Unnerved by Jeremy’s mother’s unfriendly appearance, Amanda introduced herself. Jeremy’s mum grimaced and then beckoned her in. The interior was jam-packed with antique
‘That’s not the point. Don’t visit people unless you have to.’
I didn’t push him about the ex-girlfriend thing. I didn’t want to start imagining him kissing someone else on the neck, loving someone else. This kind of probing had driven many a woman round the bend. So with my issue of the day seemingly resolved, I moved on to Chas’s. He was having a ball with Robbie, but he told me that day he had bitten the bullet and booked a date for his first ever exhibition.
‘I’m terrified,’ he admitted.
‘You’re a genius. I know you are. It’ll be fantastic.’
But his time was limited. And Chas’s cunning plan to paint and parent was (surprise, surprise) proving a disaster . So far, Robbie’s (very cute) handprints had made their way onto three of Chas’s masterpieces.
Robbie was ready for some socialising anyway, so we decided to get him into a nursery three hours each morning, for Mum and Dad to look after him three afternoons a week, and for me to cut down on Marks & Spencer’s treats and make room in our budget for a cleaner.
So when Chas went off to paint in his studio at nine that night, I felt very pleased with our plan. We had organised our lives and I had promised to keep a safe, professional distance from dangerous men about to go on trial for murder.
An excellent plan.
Wish I’d stuck to it.
14
With Jeremy in London, Amanda found herself in a huge house in the middle of nowhere with absolutely nothing to do. Or nothing she wanted to do anyway. She wasn’t a country girl, didn’t understand people who walked up hills just to walk down them again. She found the Scottish countryside so beautiful it was boring. She’d once done a driving tour of the Highlands with a friend and after days exclaiming at the rugged changeability of it she craved a loud smoky nightclub so badly she could have screamed. Without Jeremy, the Crinan Canal had nothing to offer Amanda. No pubs within walking distance , no good cafés or bookshops or litter that spoke of nights out. The canal was just that, a canal. Occasionally she saw yachts with families sitting at the lock waiting for the water to rise then fall again, and she really didn’t understand why parents would take their children on such trips, spending most of the day waiting for water to rise then fall again.
She didn’t tell her mum and dad that Jeremy had headed south. Or her friends, ’cause this was her honeymoon, this house was for her and Jeremy. So she waited, watching the lock outside, trying to understand the point of sailing and weak jacuzzi baths.
On the second morning she woke to the phone ringing. It was her boy, and he was so sorry, but he had to staywith his mum. She was having tests, and was still refusing to see anyone.
‘Let me come down!’ Amanda said, but he insisted that she stay and wait for him. ‘At least one of us should enjoy the place,’ he insisted.
*
Alone in Crinan, Amanda thought about Jeremy’s relationship with his mother. She first discovered there were serious problems between them when they decided to get married and Jeremy was determined not to invite her and even more determined not to discuss her.
‘She won’t come,’ he said. ‘There’s no point. We just don’t see eye to eye.’
He wouldn’t elaborate. ‘Please, let’s not talk about it,’ he insisted.
Amanda figured they’d just grown apart or something, and took it upon herself to intervene. One afternoon, when Jeremy was working, she visited his mother without telling him.
The house was a small terrace in Haringey. Its occupant was a thin, worn woman, dressed in pressed trousers and a tight white T-shirt and firm, fitted pink cardigan. She smelt strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. Her gaunt, heavily lined face had settled in a frown. Unnerved by Jeremy’s mother’s unfriendly appearance, Amanda introduced herself. Jeremy’s mum grimaced and then beckoned her in. The interior was jam-packed with antique
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