Page 6 of The Good Girl
Julia didn’t look in the least bit surprised and neither did she appear defeated, and instead told Molly to eat the rest of her dinner and then asked Dee if she’d like ice cream for pudding. Nothing more was said about Shane that evening but the next weekend, while they were waiting to order their Sunday lunch at Julia’s favourite restaurant in Prestbury, the man himself turned up. And after that, it was like he never really left!
In the present,Julia had begun confiding in Molly more and more about the state of her marriage, perhaps hoping for some support from her adult daughter and a female shoulder to cry on.
The rot had begun to set in when Molly was fifteen-ish, and their mother-daughter chats since then had given her a whole new perspective on where her mum’s head was at when she met Shane.
By the time Molly and Dee met him, Julia was already in deep and also determined to meet any opposition head on. And that included her in-laws, own parents and Nancy, and anyone else who thought they had a right to interfere in her private life. She’d mourned her husband for two years. Had kept the company running and profitable and made damn sure her two girls were well cared for and had everything they needed and now, it was her time. Julia had approached her new relationship in managing director mode, taking no prisoners and getting the job done. Nowadays, her mum looked back at those days with regret.
‘I know it’s probably hard for you to understand, but people do fall out of love and I can see now I made a huge mistake. I was lonely and mistook attraction for something else and the more people tutted and told me I was making a mistake, the more I wanted to prove them wrong. But I want you to learn from my mess, okay. Be your own woman like Aunty Nancy and don’t, whatever you do, go jumping into bed with the first handsome man that comes along.’
That had been last week, and Molly had shrivelled inside at her words. With a sigh, she clicked the photo album on her phone and scrolled to the one namedOur Family. That contained every image she had of her dad, right up to when he died. The one next to it was namedFamily 2.
After dragging her finger to near the bottom she found the ones of just her, Dee and their mum and smiled, knowing that through the pain, she and her mum had been able to laugh and have fun. Little Dee always squished in the middle with her cheeky smile.
A little further along, Shane appeared in the photos. Almost surgically attached to her mum, with Dee on his knee, and on the other side, huddled under her mum’s arm, Moody Molly scowling into the camera. God she had been vile.
That kid in the café that didn’t want anything on the menu, the one who ruined a day out to Blackpool because she wouldn’t sit next to Shane on the rides, who could never agree on which movie to watch or what toppings to get on the pizza. Then suddenly it all changed when Molly realised he wasn’t going anywhere, and that she was spoiling things for herself because hewasfunny, and kind and cool. Just like her mum said he was.
Shane had come into Molly and Dee’s life in the October and by February, Valentine’s Day to be exact, he’d asked Julia to marry him. The Easter wedding had been a quiet, close friends and family thing, and straight after, they’d gone on their first family holiday to Menorca where everyone thought Shane was a good egg for insisting his new-stepdaughters went on honeymoon with them. ‘We’re a team,’ he would say, or ‘I want all my girls with me,’ and ‘I’m such a lucky man.’ Shane was lucky all right.
Still, nobody could deny he’d made each of them feel special in their own way. Her mum was his first conquest. Then Dee, who craved attention. And once her mum had run out of love and patience with him, Moody Molly had succumbed to his charms in more ways than one. Hook, line and sinker.
When her finger stopped scrolling, it was on the photo of her and Shane at Manchester Airport, taken by Julia who’d dropped them off and waved them goodbye. It had been Molly’s sixteenth birthday treat from Shane. That’s when it started. And as she stared at his face, the one she knew every detail of, Molly still didn’t know for sure if she wanted it to stop.
Chapter Five
Monday, and five days to the big bash and Julia was in full-blown hostess mode, swept up in the whirlwind of planning a farewell party that, in Molly’s view, felt more about appearances and keeping herself occupied than celebration. The golf club was booked, catering arranged, a live band hired, and there had even been a debate about fairy lights, despite Molly reminding her mum it wasn’t Christmas or a wedding.
‘I just want everything to be perfect, Molly, and this is probably the biggest party I will throw for you until you get married,’ Julia said airily as she drove, chatting along to Molly who, seated beside her, tried to look interested. ‘And I have my hopes set on your husband-to-be. I can picture you with someone from an Ivy League family. Maybe they have a holiday home in Martha’s Vineyard and are friends with the Obamas, just so you know.’
When Julia turned and gave Molly a wink, the tension in her neck eased, knowing her mum was joking, kind of. Because everyone knew how ambitious Julia was for her eldest daughterand it wasn’t a huge stretch to imagine her manifesting a fantasy husband.
‘And this is for Dee, too, because she needs to see you going as a positive thing, something to cheer about. Everyone wants to wish you well, Molly. People who’ve known you all your life. This is a big deal, sweetheart.’
Molly hadn’t argued. She didn’t have the energy, and besides, her mum always found a way to justify her over-the-top gestures. Yet there was an undercurrent to her excitement this time. She looked tired around the eyes, was more impatient than usual, and despite her glossy blow-dries and daily workouts in the home gym, when she took her eye off the ball, it was as though she had the troubles of the world on her shoulders. Her demeanour had echoes of another time, a faded memory, but there just the same. Mum looked defeated, like she did when her husband died.
Supermum Julia had put on an act for everyone back then, kept things together regardless of her pain. It was that flashback, to knowing her mum was hurting while smiling for everyone, the teachers and other parents in the yard, her employees, the window cleaner and her own daughters, that had rattled Molly. She hated the thought of her mum feeling like that but had no clue how to help.
Which was why Molly had agreed to another shopping trip looking for a different party dress, because she’d gone off the two already hanging in her wardrobe. They were in Hale and Molly could tell Julia was trying to keep it light, drifting between rails of sequins and silks, but every now and then, the tension that was stretching the skin across her Botoxed face, pinged loose.
‘How about this one?’ Julia held up a figure-hugging champagne satin number against her own frame. ‘Too much?’
Molly, seated on the low cream bench beside the changing rooms, barely looked up from her phone. ‘Mum, you look good in anything, so if you like it…’
Julia sighed. ‘That wasn’t what I asked.’
‘It’s fine. Honestly, very classy.’
A pause. Julia hung the dress back on the rack with a sharp clink. ‘You’re impossible lately. I don’t know why I bother.’
Molly’s heart sank. ‘Sorry, Mum. Look, why don’t we go and grab a glass of wine and some lunch then start again afterwards. You’ve not stopped lately and I can tell you’re stressed, so come on, put that down and let’s get out of here.’
Standing quickly, Molly stuffed her phone in her pocket and lifted her arm, waiting for her mum to follow her lead. When Julia’s face broke into a relieved smile it was as though the sun had come out, and with it, a wave of shame swept over Molly. As they left the store arm in arm and headed for a little Italian, Molly vowed to make more of an effort with her mum in the days they had left together. Be kinder and more attentive, return the friendship and selfless devotion of the past eighteen years. It was the least she could do.
Two glasses of Pinot later, Julia had handed over her car keys to Molly and after little encouragement, had decided to finish the bottle. She’d been drinking far more than usual, as soon as she came in from work and more so at weekends, often taking a bottle up to her suite and hiding away for the evening. Molly had noticed but not commented because she knew her mother found it irritating to be parented by her own child. But she’d seen Magda’s face one Monday morning when she was taking the large, clinking bag of recycling out.
At least they were having a chilled time. Julia had decided to stick with the ice-blue dress she’d chosen weeks before, which meant that after lunch they could head home where, no doubt, her mum would require an afternoon nap. Hoping to keep theconversation off sensitive subjects, primarily Shane, Molly asked what she thought was a non-controversial question but walked straight into a rant worthy of Reform versus Labour onQuestion Time.
‘So what’s on the agenda for pre-party beautification on Saturday morning? I bet you’ve booked in for the whole hog, haven’t you?’ Molly took a tiny sip of her wine, knowing how it went to her head during the day.
