A Cure for Love

Lacey realised she had been holding her breath, dreading Jessica’s not telling her, or even worse lying to her. Now she felt both relief and guilt. How could she have so little faith in her own daughter? Why was she behaving so suspiciously…so…so jealously?

Her attitude wasn’t only demeaning to herself, it was demeaning to Jessica as well. And to Lewis…didn’t it equally demean him?

‘Yes; yes. Mike said you’d gone out with your father.’ She tried to sound breezy, unconcerned, and knew she was failing when her voice sharpened as she couldn’t stop herself from adding, ‘I must say I was surprised that he’d been in touch with you, especially when we’d both agreed that it would be better if I was the one to tell you.’

There was a small pause and then Jessica said quietly, ‘He didn’t get in touch with me, Ma. I got in touch with him. I phoned Ian’s secretary during the week and got his home address from her, and then I rang him. I’m sorry; I know how you must feel. I wanted to tell you…to discuss it with you, but…’

But she had been afraid of how she would react, Lacey recognised bleakly.

It was time to control her own emotions, to make good the damage they had already done before it became irreparable. It was time for her to show not only generosity but wisdom and far-sightedness as well.

Lacey took a deep breath and said as quietly as she could, ‘He is your father, Jess. I do understand how much…how curious you must have been about him. In your shoes I’m sure I’d have done the same thing, and you do…’ she stumbled a little and then managed to continue ‘…and you do potentially share a bond. Well, I can understand that you might rather have talked to…to your father about things…than to me. After all, he has a personal knowledge of the situation that I—’

‘Ma, please don’t make me feel even worse than I do already,’ Jessica pleaded, her voice half choked by tears. ‘It wasn’t that; and as for any bond that might exist between us…You are my mother; Lewis…I can’t call him “Dad”—I can’t even really think of him in that context…not yet. I don’t know why I felt such a deep-rooted need to contact him, or what I was looking for…’ She stumbled, and Lacey’s heart ached for her, for them both. Please don’t let him hurt her, she pleaded silently.

Please don’t let him allow her to believe he cares about her and then reject her.

‘He’s a very lonely man, Ma,’ Jessica told her chokily. ‘The woman he left you for…I don’t think they can have stayed together long. He never mentioned her…never talked about her, but he never stopped talking about you…about—’

She had to intervene.

‘Jess, it’s all right,’ she interrupted. ‘I do understand. He’s your father and I’ve never wanted you to hate him. He is, after all, a part of you, but you mustn’t…There’s no need for you to try and justify his actions to me. Our relationship, his and mine…it was over a long time ago. Your relationship with him is just beginning.’

They talked for another half-hour or so, and when she had replaced the receiver Lacey was conscious of a great burden of sadness which at the same time was edged with the knowledge that she had done the right thing in removing from Jessica any guilt she might have felt at contacting her father. The strain, the tension, had gone from her daughter’s voice once she’d realised that Lacey was not going to protest at what she had done.

Perhaps this was one of the greatest gifts she could give her daughter, she acknowledged wearily later over her solitary supper—the freedom to openly explore and begin her own relationship with her father without the taint of any bitterness of opposition from her mother. Yes, she had done the right thing…but at what personal cost!

Tiredly she pushed her uneaten supper away from her. She felt both exhausted and restless at the same time, shaky with nervous tension, and very much alone. She looked at the phone, half wishing it were not too late to ring Ian and tell him that she had changed her mind.

Perhaps, after all, it was time for her to cut herself free of the past, to stop indulging in foolish daydreams of something that could never be, and accept instead the realities of what life could offer her. There was no point in wishing what was done undone, in wanting to turn back the clock to a time before Lewis had re-entered their lives…or rather Jessica’s life, she corrected herself miserably. She ought to feel joy for Jessica instead of concentrating on her own pain. She had heard her daughter’s voice, her happiness at discovering her father, and she could not, must not spoil that happiness. She must not let her own feelings create a barrier between them…a schism of misunderstanding and jealousy.

Ten o’clock. Perhaps if she had an early night…The weather forecast was good. She could spend tomorrow in the garden, working. The wooden seat needed a

coat of preservative, there was weeding to be done, plants to be thinned out. Plenty of work to occupy her hands. But nothing to occupy her mind. Nothing to stop her thinking about Jessica…about Lewis. Nothing to stop her from remembering how threatened…how alone…how shut out she had felt when Mike had told her that Jessica had gone out with her father. She had experienced jealousy before; the deep, agonising jealousy of knowing that her husband, her lover preferred another woman, but never had she expected to feel jealous of her own daughter…to wish passionately that…

That what? That Lewis had wanted to spend the day with her! Her eyes filled with bitter shadows as she washed up, and then Lacey made her way upstairs.

CHAPTER SIX

FOR once the weather forecast was accurate. Lacey looked up at the cloudless blue sky and then grimaced as she glanced down at her stain-splashed arms and legs.

The stuff she had bought to re-stain the wooden seat was thin and runny. She felt as though more of it had gone on her than on the bench.

Luckily she was wearing on old pair of shorts and an equally old T-shirt.

While she waited for the first coat to dry, she went into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. The house felt unnaturally quiet. She put down her coffee-mug, her eyes shadowing as she recalled the years when Jessica had been growing up and the house had been filled with her chatter, her tears and her laughter.

She had told herself long before Jessica had left home for university that she was never going to allow herself to become a clinging mother, that she must accept that one day Jessica would grow up and away from her, and she had thought that she had come to terms with this.

Now, though, the tears burning the back of her eyes told a different story.

It’s only self-pity, she castigated herself mentally.You’re just feeling a bit down because…

Because she resented the way Lewis was establishing himself in Jessica’s life.

She tried to put herself in his shoes…to imagine how she would feel if she were suddenly to discover that she had an adult child. She moved restlessly round her kitchen. She didn’t want to feel sympathy for her ex-husband, to feel compassion for him and recognition of the very real shock it must have given him to realise that Jessica was his child.

Her life was complicated enough already without taking on that kind of burden.