“You don’t understand what you’re asking me.”
“It’s gone beyond the money. It’s turned into something where she wants him, wants all of him, and me not to have him. I’ll never see him again. She’ll cut me off completely. You know your daughter better than anyone—please, anything you can do.”
Wendy sipped her drink, then slowly put the cup down. It clattered noisily in the saucer, the china thick, designed to withstand the handling of the masses.
“No.”
A tightness gripped Laura’s chest.
Wendy stood. “You must understand, Laura. She’s my daughter.”
Laura watched as Wendy, trembling, walked away.
50
Thursday, November 5
CHERRY LET HERSELF INTO HER MOTHER’S FLAT AND DIRECTED THEmoving man she’d hired down the hallway to her bedroom, where the boxes were neatly stacked. It had been the right thing to do, move the last of her things when her mum was at work, as it made it a lot easier not having to dodge questions about when Wendy could come and see her new home. She didn’t want her mother coming over and “oohing and aahing” about everything, making embarrassing comments about how expensive or fancy everything was or, worse still, bringing a housewarming gift from the supermarket. As usual, Cherry felt guilty about these thoughts and decided she’d take her mum out to dinner somewhere nice, maybe in a few weeks, once she was properly settled in. In fact, she’d leave her a note promising this.Yes, that’s the thing to do,she thought, pleased, and she went into the living room to find a piece of paper.
“Mum!”
Wendy was sitting on the sofa. “Have you come to say good-bye?”
“I—I didn’t know you were here.” She frowned. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I swapped my shifts.”
“Oh, right.”
“You don’t sound too pleased.”
“Oh no—doesn’t bother me. Why would it?”
Wendy stood. “You didn’t seem too keen on the idea when I originally offered. I thought it would be nice. You know, to see each other.”
“Of course, it’s nice. It’s just I didn’t want to put you out.”
Cherry was uncomfortable under her mother’s gaze. What was all this about? She wanted to get her stuff and go, and certainly didn’t plan on hanging around for an impromptu bonding session.
“I don’t think that’s true, Cherry. I think the truth is, you don’t like spending time with me.”
Cherry’s stomach twisted, but she laughed. “What?”
“I’m not rich. Comfortable, I like to think, and I work hard.”
“Of course, you do,” Cherry said quickly, reassuringly.
“Don’t patronize me!” snapped Wendy, and Cherry flinched. “I think, Cherry, that I am an embarrassment to you. Unworthy of you.”
Cherry’s heart was hammering in her chest. “What are you going on about?”
“I work in a supermarket, I don’t wear fancy clothes, I don’t speak as well as some people. You always wanted to better yourself, had high expectations, expensive taste. That’s why you was so upset about that Nicolas. I knew you was too good for round here, never thought you was too good for me.” Wendy’s voice cracked, but she pulled herself up. “A woman came to see me in the shop yesterday.”
“Who?” Cherry asked anxiously, but deep down, she knew.
“Laura Cavendish. I wasn’t going to say anything, but what she told me . . . It was keeping me awake all night. She was begging me to help her. To stop you.” She paused. “Is it all true?”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.”
