by Lucy Diamond
Em looked round, embarrassed to see that Maggie from the middle-sized cottage had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, beside her. ‘Oh,’ she gulped in surprise. ‘Hi.’
‘Sorry,’ said Maggie, looking awkward. ‘I didn’t mean to bother you.’ She was clutching a wine glass and bottle of her own and held them up rather self-consciously. ‘I just wondered if you wanted any company?’
Em managed a small smile. Not particularly, she felt like replying. Thanks and everything, Maggie, but right now I’d like to get very pissed on my own and feel sorry for myself. Perhaps even ruin the picture-postcard holiday scene with some ugly gulpy sobbing, once I’ve put this bottle away. But she was too polite for such honesty of course, so what she really said was, ‘That would be lovely. Please do.’ And then she realized something was different about her neighbour. ‘Your hair,’ she blurted out. ‘Have you had it cut? It looks fabulous!’
Maggie blushed and looked delighted. ‘Thank you,’ she said, patting it self-consciously. ‘It was a bit of an impulse decision, to be honest. I keep forgetting about it.’ She hesitated, as if sensing Em wasn’t exactly in a good place. ‘Sure it’s all right for me to join you?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Em, pulling herself out of her mood as best she could. ‘So how are things with you?’
‘Well . . . okay, actually,’ Maggie said, as if surprised by her own words. She dragged the nearest pool lounger a little closer and sloshed wine into her glass. ‘I had quite a nice day today – I’d been expecting to feel weird without Amelia being here, you know, but . . .’
Em was listening – she was! – but her attention was caught in the next moment by the sound of a car arriving at the property, at which point her heart leapt like a salmon and she promptly tuned out. From where they were sitting, it wasn’t possible to see the driveway and the car park, but her imagination had already gone into overdrive and adrenalin throbbed through her. Oh my goodness. Had George come back? He couldn’t live without her! He wanted to reassure her that they would be okay!
Maggie had broken off from whatever she was saying, sensing she was losing her audience. ‘Is everything all right?’
Em blushed. How rude of her. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I was distracted by the car that’s just come in. I’m wondering if it might be George, you see – long story, but he, er, had to leave early and . . .’ Now it was her turn to break off, because she was tying herself in knots. There was the sound of a car door slamming and she prickled all over with nerves. ‘He . . . I’m not sure . . . I don’t really know what’s happening,’ she floundered, poised to leap up and rush over to him the second he appeared.
You came back, she would cry, weak with relief.
I love you, he would tell her as she ran into his arms.
In the next moment, though, around the corner came Olivia carrying a bag of shopping and the brief flare of hope Em had felt was extinguished like a snuffed candle. ‘False alarm,’ she mumbled, embarrassed. Of course it wasn’t George. He was probably on the motorway, thanking his lucky stars he was rid of her by now. What an idiot she was.
Olivia gave a shy wave as she approached, and both Em and Maggie waved back. ‘Come and join us, if you want,’ Em called, feeling it would be churlish not to. ‘We’re just setting the world to rights here.’ Although one of us is likely to go into full nervous breakdown any minute now.
Olivia looked pleased to be asked. ‘Thank you,’ she said, dimpling. ‘That would be nice.’ She patted her bag. ‘I’ll just put this lot away and I’ll be right with you.’
She walked on towards her cottage and Em turned back to Maggie. ‘You were telling me about Amelia,’ she said, feeling bad for not listening properly earlier. ‘I think she and Jack have been texting each other, actually – they seem to have hit it off. Is she getting on all right with your ex?’
‘Um . . .’ said Maggie. Her face had done something peculiar when Em had mentioned Jack. Did that mean she disapproved of their friendship? ‘Okay, I think,’ Maggie replied, ‘although it sounds as if Jack knows more than I do. She’s not exactly been very forthcoming with me so far. In fact I’ve barely heard a word from her while she’s been away.’ She rubbed at a mark on the sun lounger for a moment before she spoke again. ‘Er . . . Actually, I wanted to ask you something. About our kids going off to Falmouth that day. I think – well, I’m pretty sure – that Amelia behaved quite . . . badly.’ She lowered her gaze as if she was ashamed. ‘I think there may have been a bottle of tequila involved.’
Aha. ‘That’s what I heard too,’ Em said. ‘They’re not our little babies any more, are they? More’s the pity.’
Maggie looked very uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I had no idea Amelia had it – the tequila, I mean. Obviously I wouldn’t have let her take it, had I known. I wouldn’t have let her anywhere near it, frankly, but . . .’
Em shrugged. The whole episode didn’t seem to matter so much any more. Not after today’s saga. ‘That’s teenagers for you,’ she said, then snorted. ‘I take it you didn’t know about the gallery incident, either?’ Maggie’s blank expression meant there was no need for a reply. ‘Some drunken game of Truth or Dare apparently,’ she went on. ‘Where I got a phone call from an irate gallery owner, after Jack had been dared to nick something from the shop. The silly sod only went and did it.’
‘What, he—’
‘Yep. Lucky the police weren’t called, to be honest. I had to buy a very expensive painting to talk the gallery owner round. Kids, eh?’
A strange expression came over Maggie’s face. ‘Oh my God. Wait, this is the place you pointed out to me the other day, wasn’t it?’ She pressed her lips together for a moment. ‘I went past earlier today and noticed a sign on the door saying: NO TEENAGERS. I thought it was a bit harsh at the time, but I bet it’s been put up there recently. Because of our kids!’
The two of them exchanged horrified looks, then burst out laughing. ‘Oh dear. What great parents we are,’ Em gurgled. She could feel herself verging on hysteria; the mood where you laugh so hard, you start crying and can’t stop again. Pull yourself together, Em.
Maggie sipped her wine, looking rueful. ‘I clearly don’t know my own child as well as I thought I did,’ she confessed.
‘Tell me about it,’ Em replied with feeling. ‘Oh – here’s Olivia,’ she added, seeing the other woman approach with a beer bottle in hand. Thank goodness. Em did not want to get into how Izzie had surprised her so horribly earlier on.
She smiled at Olivia, trying to suppress an envious pang as she wondered how the other woman might have spent the day, in comparison with her own rather miserable recent hours. Perhaps this amazing husband of hers had shelled out for a day-spa somewhere really luxurious. Or Olivia had been for a mega shopping spree, or a gourmet dinner, or . . .
‘Hello there,’ Olivia said, drawing up a chair. She had let her blonde hair loose from its usually severe ponytail so that it fell in waves around her shoulders, and was wearing a floaty top and cropped wide trousers. Her feet were bare and her toenails glimmered with sparkly coral polish. She’d probably had a pedicure as well, Em guessed. Nice!
‘I’m Olivia, by the way,’ she was saying to Maggie. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
‘Maggie,’ said Maggie.
‘And I’m Em, just in case you had forgotten and were too polite to ask,’ Em said, trying not to look down at the chipped nail varnish on her own toes, with pale unpainted bands along the bottom where her nails had grown. There – she was slovenly at heart. Another reason for George to be whistling The Great Escape theme tune as he drove steadily eastwards. ‘So here we are: impromptu girls’ night out,’ she said, trying to sound positive. ‘Cheers, ladies. To good health – and happy holidays.’
Lord, what a hypocrite, she thought as she and Maggie clinked glasses with Olivia’s beer bottle. Happy holidays indeed. I should be so lucky!
Just then there was a bleep from a phone. George? Em thought immediately, scrabbling to l
ook at her screen. But it remained blank, unfortunately. Not George. It had been Maggie’s phone that had made the sound and she was already picking it up to check the message.
‘Ooh!’ she said, putting a hand up to her mouth and turning pink.
Despite her glum mood, Em was intrigued. ‘Now that “Ooh” sounded to me like it might be related to an interesting man,’ she guessed, arching an eyebrow. ‘Am I right?’
‘That’s a good kind of “Ooh”,’ Olivia agreed, leaning in a little closer.
Maggie’s blush deepened and her expression became distinctly bashful. Definitely a man, Em thought to herself with interest.
‘Well,’ Maggie said, glancing back at the message again, ‘it’s probably nothing. But there is this guy, Paul . . .’
‘I knew it!’ Em crowed.
‘And . . . well, we’ve been friends for years and I really like him, but . . .’ Her mouth gave an awkward sort of twist. ‘Well, I couldn’t face putting my heart on the line again, basically.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘I haven’t exactly had much luck with men in the past.’
‘But now?’ Olivia prompted.
‘I texted him earlier to thank him for lending me some guidebooks,’ Maggie said. ‘And he’s replied . . . Hold on, let me read it. He’s replied: No problem, glad they were helpful. Hope you’re having a good holiday. Let me know if you’re around for a drink later in the summer – would be great to catch up.’ She put the phone in her lap and spread her hands, looking girlishly excited. ‘What do I say? I think I want to be brave and go out with him, but I’m so rubbish at this sort of thing. Completely out of practice.’
‘What’s he like?’ Em asked. ‘If you’ve been friends for years, it sounds like he’s trustworthy at least.’
‘He is,’ Maggie replied. ‘He’s . . . he’s really great. He’s been such a good friend to me and is actually quite . . . you know. Hot. But . . .’ She was turning pinker by the second. ‘The thing is, I don’t know what the “but” is any more. I’ve been saying “no” and “but” and making excuses for years, even though I’ve felt the vibes from him and always felt a bit giddy about him in return.’ She fiddled with her fingers, looking both fierce and shy at the same time. ‘Maybe the time has come to just . . . take a leap.’
‘Yes. Do!’ cried Olivia. ‘A date, how lovely. All that excitement and butterflies, getting dressed up, all the hope and anticipation.’
Em swallowed hard, remembering it well. All lost to her now, no doubt.
‘Any words of wisdom, Em? How did you and George get together?’ asked Maggie. Clunk. Presumably Em’s face was saying Catastrophe catastrophe, because in the next moment Maggie began hastily backtracking. ‘Um . . . If you want to tell us, that is. Oh dear. I haven’t just put my foot in it, have I? I did see him going out earlier and wondered—’ She broke off, grimacing. ‘Sorry. Ignore me.’
‘It’s okay,’ said Em, even though it really wasn’t. She stared at the inflatable flamingo that was drifting aimlessly across the water in a breeze and did her best to dredge up some semblance of composure. Breathe. ‘Look, I’m not the best person to ask about dating, sadly, seeing as George and I might have . . .’ She swallowed again, as if the words were stuck inside her. ‘Well, we might have ground to a halt, actually. But don’t let that put you off! Until this holiday, I was blissfully happy.’ Oh dear. Was that a sob? Had she just ended that little speech with a sob?
Olivia and Maggie were both gazing at her with stricken expressions. Damn it. She totally had.
Lorna was unstacking the dishwasher when she glanced out of the window and saw the three women all sitting together by the pool. She smiled with pleasure at the sight. So often the women who came to stay here appeared stressed and frazzled, exhausting themselves under the pressure of trying to give their families the mythically perfect holiday experience. She’d much rather see her guests relax and have fun. It was good that Olivia was out there too, joining in. Even from this distance, Lorna could tell she’d picked up a bit of a tan from the sunny weather, and her body language seemed less tense. It made Lorna feel like a proud mother hen to see the difference in her.
‘Look, Roy,’ she said, gesturing towards the window as he came into the kitchen. ‘Isn’t that nice? I do like it when the families get to know each other.’
Roy came over, slotting his arms around her waist. He rested his head against her shoulder. ‘Remember that holiday we went on when Aidan was – what, about fifteen? And we met that lovely family from Dundee.’
Until that moment, Lorna had forgotten all about the lovely family from Dundee, but then a memory flickered at the back of her mind like an old cine-film and she seized hold of it. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly, as the details coloured themselves in. ‘Valencia, wasn’t it? We rented that little white house.’ And then she was remembering the warm evenings, sitting out in the communal courtyard with a bottle of Rioja, talking to the friendly couple they’d met, with the son around Aidan’s age, the cicadas chirruping in the background. How she’d loved waking up in that quiet, plain bedroom every morning as the sun rose, orange and magnificent, sweeping its light across the whitewashed walls. ‘That was a smashing holiday,’ she sighed.
There was a silence as they both drifted through their own memories and she wondered if Roy was wishing they could go somewhere similar again. And actually . . . Well, it was the strangest thing, but for the first time since Aidan died, she thought she might be able to manage that. Find another whitewashed house and enjoy a calm, relaxing break away together; relax into the stillness and the warmth.
‘Listen,’ she said, turning around so that they were facing one another. ‘We should look into going away in the autumn. Maybe the beginning of October, when the lettings have gone quiet. A little holiday, just the two of us, somewhere warm.’
He looked surprised and happy to hear her say such a thing, then hugged her to him. ‘I would really like that,’ he said quietly into her hair.
Some hours later, Maggie, Em and Olivia were still out there by the pool, even though it was almost midnight. Up above, the stars were a handful of silver glitter against the inky black while the moon cast glimmering ripples of light into the water. The air smelled of wine and chlorine, with just a faint hint of ozone from the distant sea carried on the breeze.
There was quite a collection of empty bottles and glasses around them by now; that little drink and chat Maggie had envisaged when she’d first walked out towards Em had turned into a much longer session. At some point Olivia had pleaded starvation and gone inside to make herself dinner, returning with a plate of pasta and salad on a tray, as well as a whole garlic baguette for them to share. Some time after that, Em had popped indoors to make sure her children were okay and to tell them to start getting ready for bed. And once the sun had vanished and the temperature began to plummet, Maggie had suggested bringing their duvets out to keep themselves warm, because none of them quite wanted the evening to end just yet. Now they were comfortably rugged-up and cosy on their sun loungers, laughing and exchanging confidences like girls on a sleepover. And oh, what a lot of ground they had covered tonight.
Urged on by the others, Maggie had replied to Paul’s text – and, believe it or not, she’d asked him out. Suggested a date and time and everything. He’d already replied saying Great, he’d love that, and she kept flipping from freaking out with panic to feeling excited and looking forward to it. True passion awaits, teased the memory of the fortune cookie. Well, she didn’t know about that, but it definitely felt as if something lovely might be waiting on the horizon, hers for the taking.
They’d gone on to discuss Em’s love life next, even though earlier she had told them she didn’t want to talk about it. She was pretty circumspect about what had happened – something to do with her daughter, Maggie gleaned – and seemed pessimistic about the chances of getting back together with George. ‘And his ex is an absolute raving beauty,’ she’d slurred, tossing another glass of wine down her throat.
&
nbsp; Maggie couldn’t help herself. ‘So are you,’ she had cried, because truly Em was exactly the sort of woman she’d always envied: pretty, vivacious, sparklier than a whole string of Christmas lights. ‘You’re gorgeous,’ she told her, ‘and I’ve had more fun with you tonight than anyone else in years.’
Em looked quite choked up, squeezing Maggie’s hand and thanking her. Then she deftly deflected the attention away from herself. ‘Let’s talk about more cheerful things,’ she suggested, ‘like someone who has, by the sound of it, cracked this whole relationship business.’ She waggled an eyebrow at Olivia, then went on, ‘Maggie, you’ll never guess, Olivia’s husband arranged for her to have a lovely break here on her own – how nice is that?’
‘Wow! Lucky you,’ said Maggie. ‘That’s so thoughtful. What a treat!’
But instead of smiling back at them, Olivia’s face fell and she shook her head. ‘It didn’t really happen like that,’ she confessed. She bit her lip. ‘Sorry, Em, I didn’t want to correct you the other day when you guessed that, because . . . Well, because the truth is a bit different. I’m not actually here because of any luxury treat. Far from it.’
She looked so distressed all of a sudden that Em and Maggie looked at one another in alarm. ‘Is everything all right?’ Maggie asked.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have been so nosy,’ Em said. ‘You don’t have to tell us anything if you don’t want to.’
Olivia pressed her lips together. ‘It’s okay. I need to start facing facts anyway,’ she said, then sighed. ‘I’m here because I ran away, because I’m a crap mum,’ she went on, her voice trembling. ‘And somehow I’ve got to put things right, but I still don’t really know how.’
Em looked astonished. ‘Oh, darling,’ she cried in surprise. ‘I’m sure you’re not crap at all – it’s the hardest thing in the world, being a mum. The steepest learning curve!’
‘Nobody ever thinks they’re doing a great job of it, trust me,’ Maggie put in. ‘Nobody.’
