“No, not yet. Beth and I haven’t really talked about it,” I say. A flash of irritation crosses his face. He never did like diffidence getting in the way of good sense.
“Well, this legacy could make the pair of you very wealthy women-”
“We’d have to stay here, though. Live here. I’m not sure that’s what either of us wants.”
“But you needn’t rattle around in the whole house. Have you thought about converting it into flats? You’d need planning, of course, but that shouldn’t be a problem. You could keep an apartment and the freehold for yourselves, and sell the rest off with long leaseholds. You’d make an absolute killing, and keep to the terms of the will.”
“That would cost thousands and thousands…” I shake my head. “Besides, we’re having a recession, remember? I thought building and developing was at a standstill?”
“We may be in recession now, but in two years’ time, three? People will always need places to live, in the long term.” Maxwell tips his head, considering. “You’d need investors. I could help you with that. I might even be interested myself…” I see him look around the room with renewed attention, as if drawing up plans, measuring. It gives me a spasm of distaste.
“Thanks. I’ll mention it to Beth.” My tone is final. Maxwell looks at me with a stern eye but says nothing for a while.
He fixes his eyes on a painting of fruit on the opposite wall, and at length he clears his throat slightly, so I know what he will ask next.
“And how is Beth?”
“She’s fine,” I shrug, deliberately vague. Again, irritation shimmers across his features, puckers his forehead into a deeper frown.
“Come on, Erica. When I saw her last week she was looking very thin again. Is she eating? Has she been acting up at all?” I try not to think about the mince pies. About the hundreds of mince pies.
“Not that I’ve noticed,” I lie. It’s a big lie. She’s getting worse again, and though I don’t exactly know why, I do know when it started-when she peaked, and started to fall again: it was when Meredith died. When, by dying, she brought this place back into our lives.
“So where is she?”
“I’ve no idea. Probably in the bathroom,” I shrug.
“Keep an eye on her,” he mutters. “I don’t want Eddie spending Christmas here if she’s going to have one of her episodes. It’s just not fair on him.”
“She’s not going to have an episode. Not unless you try to keep Eddie away from her,” I snap.
“It’s not a question of keeping Eddie away from her. It’s about doing what’s best for my son, and-”
“What’s best for him is that he gets to spend time with his mother. And it helps her so much to have him around. She’s always much better-”
“It shouldn’t be up to Edward to make his mother better!”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“I only agreed to Edward coming here at all because you would be here to keep an eye on things, Erica. Beth has already shown how unpredictable she can be, how unstable. Putting your head in the sand won’t help, you know.”
“I think I know my sister, Maxwell, and she is not unstable-”
“Look, I know you only want to stick up for her, Erica, and it’s admirable. But this isn’t a game. Seeing her at her worst is something that might affect Edward for the rest of his life, and I am not prepared to let that happen! Not again.”
“Keep your voice down, for God’s sake!”
“Look, I just want-”
“I know what you want, Maxwell, but you can’t change the fact that Beth is Eddie’s mother. People aren’t perfect-Beth’s not perfect. But she is a great mother, and she adores Eddie, and if you could just focus on that for a change, instead of watching and waiting and crying sole custody! every time she gets a little bit down…”
“A little bit down is something of an understatement, though, isn’t it Erica?” he says, and I can only glare at him because he is right. In the pause we hear a noise from outside the room, and exchange an accusatory glance. Eddie is in the hallway, swinging his kit bag awkwardly, left to right. It twists his skinny wrist. “Edward!” Maxwell calls, smiling broadly and crossing to engulf his son in a brief hug.
It takes me quite some time to find Beth. The house is dark today, like the world outside. A midwinter Sunday when the sun barely seemed to rise and is now fading again. I move from door to door, flinging them open, peering in, breathing the stale smell of rooms long shut. A few hours ago we all had a late breakfast, sitting at the long table in the kitchen. Beth was bright and shiny; she made hot chocolate and warmed croissants in the Rayburn for us all. Too bright and shiny, I realize now. I didn’t see her slip away. I flick at light switches as I go but a lot of the bulbs have blown. I find her at last, wedged onto the window sill in one of the top floor bedrooms. From there she can see the silver car in the driveway, streaked and scattered by the rain on the dirty window.
“Maxwell’s here,” I say, pointlessly. Beth ignores me. She catches her bottom lip in two fingers, pushes it against her teeth, bites it hard. “Eddie’s going, Beth. You have to come down and see him off. Come on. And Maxwell wants to speak to you.”
“I don’t want to speak to him. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want Eddie to go.”
“I know. But it’s just for a while. And you can’t let Eddie go without saying goodbye.” She rolls her head to glare at me. So tired, she looks. So tired and sad. “Please, Beth. They’re waiting… we have to go down.” Beth draws in a breath, unfolds herself from the sill-a slow, deliberate, underwater movement.
“Found her!” My cheerful announcement is too loud. “This place is big enough to get lost in.” Beth and Maxwell ignore me, but Eddie smiles, at a loss. I wish Beth would put on a better act sometimes. Would show that she copes. I could shake her for not showing Maxwell a better front right now. She stands before him with her arms folded, lost inside a shapeless cardigan. She didn’t fight when he left. They settled amicably-that was the word both families bandied about. Amicable. There is nothing amicable about Beth as she stands there now, gray-faced, raw looking. They do not touch.
“Good to see you, Beth. You look well,” Max lies.
“So do you.”
“Look, do you mind if we drop Eddie back next Saturday, rather than the Friday? Only it’s Melissa’s school carol concert on the Friday night and we’d all like to go together, wouldn’t we, Ed?” Eddie shrugs a shoulder and nods at the same time. The poor boy could teach diplomacy. Beth’s mouth pinches, her jaw knots. How she hates any mention of Max’s new family, any extra second of time Eddie spends with them. But the request is reasonable, and she strives to be reasonable too.
“Of course. Of course it’s no problem,” she says.
“Great,” Maxwell smiles, a quick, businesslike smile. There’s a quiet pause, just the scuff scuff scuff of Eddie’s bag, swinging to and fro. “Have you got much planned for the week?” Maxwell asks.
“Not a lot-sorting through some of the old girl’s junk, getting ready for Christmas,” I say lightly. Beth adds nothing to this summary.
“Right, well, let’s get on, shall we, Ed?” Maxwell ushers his son toward the door. “We’ll see you on Saturday. Have a good week, the pair of you.”
“Wait! Eddie…” Beth rushes over to him and hugs him too tightly. She would go with him if she could. Keep hold of him, not let him forget her, not let him love Diane and Melissa too much. When the door is shut behind them I turn to Beth, but she won’t meet my eye.
“I wish you wouldn’t always be so quiet in front of Maxwell!” I burst out. “Can’t you be more…” I trail off, at a loss. Beth flings her arms up.