by Lucy Dawson
‘Not at all.’ I gave her a tight smile as I turned round, and she looked away, quietly satisfied.
‘Mummy, when can we do more cooking?’ asked Clara disloyally, grabbing a biscuit. ‘It was really fun!’
‘Wow! They’re so good, guys!’ said Tris through a mouthful, pulling Teddy onto his lap for a cuddle as he gazed around him in amazement. ‘Thanks a million, Mum. The house looks incredible.’
Moira beamed pinkly and patted his knee. ‘It was an absolute pleasure. You work so hard, it’s nice to be able to help. I made some casserole and a chicken pie for the freezer too. It’s always good to have something fresh you can take out in a rush.’
It was such a thinly veiled dig at me – my not adequately caring for or supporting her best boy – I had to leave the room, feigning to need the loo. Standing in front of the mirror in our bedroom – which had been polished, I couldn’t help noticing – I lifted the skin above my eyebrows, watching as they arched and my eyes became more feline. Then I pulled up my top and looked at the spare skin spilling over my trouser waistband. I tucked it back in, sat heavily on the edge of the bed and thought again about Mia. Reaching into my back pocket, I googled her and found a couple of images. She didn’t look quite so much like me in the photographs after all and I began to wonder if I’d imagined it, felt a connection or seen something there that simply – wasn’t. Just a pretty girl who had asked me to sign a book. Nothing more, nothing less.
I think I was called back downstairs after that. Donald and Moira were ready to go; their car neatly packed, a blanket carefully spread over the back seat for their Border Terrier, Pip, to recline on. I forgot about Mia and gave her no further thought whatsoever.
Almost exactly a year passed until she reappeared. I wouldn’t have chosen the middle of August to go to Mallorca – the heat was blisteringly intense – but it was either that or nothing since term-time holidays had been officially outlawed. On the plus side, one end of the villa pool was shaded and the kids were more than happy to spend hours simply jumping in and out.
‘Quick, Aunty Flo!’ Clara wrapped her arms round her tiny shoulders, shivering on the white paving stones. ‘Pass me my towel! I’m freezing!’
‘Please!’ laughed my younger sister, grabbing for one from the pile on the sun lounger and making a tent with it so that Clara could shimmy out of her wet costume under cover. ‘And you can’t possibly be cold. It’s 29 degrees!’
‘I’m thirsty,’ announced Teddy as I whipped his trunks off, wrapped him in an enormous towel and lifted him up so that I could cover him in kisses. He giggled, but with a four-year-old boy’s impatience, admonished, ‘Hey! I said I need a drink.’
‘Politely please, Teddy,’ frowned Tris, from under the umbrella in the shade where he had his laptop balanced on his knees, legs stretched out in front of him. ‘That’s not how a gentleman speaks to his mummy.’ He didn’t look up and carried on tapping away as I released our son, who promptly legged it – his towel falling off completely – over to the table next to Tris, grabbing his cup of water, gulping noisily and then slamming it back down perilously close to the screen.
‘Careful!’ Tris snatched the computer away in alarm. ‘You’re spilling it!’
‘Sorry, Daddy!’ Teddy said cheerfully and ran off over the grass to the left off the villa. ‘Clara! Catch me!’
She eyed him, then suddenly bolted off in pursuit, both of them giggling madly and shouting, ‘we’re bare bears!’ as they skipped around in the nude.
‘You’ve got one minute and then come back here for more sun cream and your hats,’ I called after them. ‘No one wants a bare bear burnt bottom.’
They collapsed with laughter at the thought, before shrieking as the automatic sprinklers came on, dousing them and fanning out over the lush green lawns.
‘Quick, Teddy!’ shouted Clara, ‘let’s run under them!’
‘Good,’ muttered Tris, ‘that ought to keep them quiet for at least the next ten minutes.’ He pulled a face at the screen, groaned and put his head back. ‘This bloody thing.’
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, flopping down onto a lounger to dry off. ‘I don’t know how you can work in heat like this.’ I yawned. ‘Plus the screen glare. Anyway, can’t you just put it away? You’re on holiday.’
He closed it. ‘Sorry. I just had a bit of something to finish off. I’m done now.’ He got to his feet. ‘Do either of you want a drink while I’m up?’
‘I’m OK, thanks.’ I got up again and moved my lounger into the sun.
‘I’m fine too, thanks, Tris,’ said Flo. ‘I’m going to go and get showered and changed in a minute.’
He shrugged and made his way back to the villa, disappearing into the cool of the house as I grabbed my phone and did a time check. ‘It’s only quarter past four, you’ve got ages before you need to start beautifying. We won’t go for another hour at least. I thought we could eat at the same place as last night. That fit restaurant owner likes you.’
She blushed. ‘Shut up. No, he doesn’t. He’s like that with every woman that walks into the place.’
‘He’s not like it with me,’ I pointed out truthfully. ‘I could see you running an upmarket eatery. You’d have to learn to speak Spanish though.’
‘You’re just saying that to cheer me up,’ she grumbled, but looked pleased.
I smiled, glancing at the children, who were still leaping around under the arc of water, closing my eyes and sighing happily. ‘A minute’s peace.’
‘Charlotte!’ yelled Tris almost immediately, having reappeared on the terrace.
I opened one eye and squinted at him. ‘Yes, what?’
‘I’m going to go for a bike ride, all right?’
‘What now?’ I sat up astonished. ‘No! Of course it’s not. We’re going out for dinner in a bit. There’s not enough time.’
‘But,’ he gestured widely with his arms, ‘I’ve not done any exercise all day!’
‘Have a swim!’ I pointed at the pool. ‘And try to remember you’re on holiday. It’s too hot for cycling anyway; I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous.’ I leant back and closed my eyes again. ‘You don’t even have a bike here.’
‘I’ll go to the hire shop.’
‘No!’ I repeated firmly and gave him a pointed look.
He sighed crossly and disappeared back inside.
‘What’s rattled his cage?’ Flo asked, her own eyes closed as she smoothed her wet hair back. ‘Oh, this is lovely. Thanks so much for inviting me.’
‘You’re very welcome and I’ve no idea.’ I lowered my voice discreetly. ‘He’s on that computer non-stop at the moment. He’s worse than me. He seems to have completely forgotten how to relax. I woke up at five a.m. the other morning and all I could hear was this tap-tapping. He was working in the spare room “getting a head start” on the day, apparently.’ I sighed.
‘Has he got a new big project on, or something?’ Flo frowned.
‘No idea,’ I replied. ‘Probably. You know what he’s like… Flo was just asking if you’ve got a big project on.’ I smiled at him as he re-emerged clutching his book in one hand and a bottle of sun cream in the other.
‘Sort of.’ He sat down on the edge of my lounger. ‘Can you do my back, please? Anyway, you’re right, I need a break. It’s doing my head in. You know this bloke?’ He lifted his book up and showed me the back cover author photo.
‘Not personally. I know of him, why?’
‘It’s complete rubbish, and yet it’s everywhere. I just don’t understand.’
I shrugged and splurged some cream on his skin, making him inhale sharply. ‘Big marketing budgets, that’s all. You shove something in enough places, people will eventually pick it up and buy it.’
‘But it’s so badly written,’ he complained. ‘Like, really basic grammar errors.’
‘Spoken like a true English graduate,’ I teased and started to rub it in.
‘You’re not much better,’ he remarked. ‘You still don’t
know the difference between it’s, its’ and its. Ten books published.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a bloody disgrace. And you’re appallingly badly read.’
‘Hey!’ I exclaimed. ‘I’m just not a literary snob, that’s all. I’d rather read something entertaining than a completely unintelligible snore-fest. That creative writing course I taught recently was full of efforts like that. The students’ manuscripts were just awful: self-conscious, wordy twaddle. I actually felt bad for some of them, paying good money to learn how to be a better writer when it’s just never going to happen. It’s a fallacy that everyone has one book in them. Or at least in most cases, that’s where it ought to stay.’
Tris pursed his lips and said nothing, glancing over instead at the children who had quietly started picking flowers, correctly thinking that they weren’t being watched.
‘HEY!’ he bellowed, and they jumped guiltily, dropping them instantly and putting their hands behind their backs. ‘What did I tell you about that yesterday? They are not our plants! Leave them alone!’
‘Tris,’ I chided. ‘Gentle. You can make the point without shouting.’
‘Can you just back me up, please?’ He spun round and glared at me. ‘If you want to criticise my parenting, don’t do it in front of them. That’s why they always come to you when I’ve already said they can’t do something. In fact, you know what? Let them pick all the flowers, whatever. I don’t even care anymore. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve only done half of my back, because I have.’
‘She’s drawn a massive cock and balls while you were busy ranting. It’s going to look really good when you get home to the gym,’ Flo said, and I burst out laughing.
Unfortunately, Tris chose not to see the funny side, got up and stomped off into the house, despite us calling after him that we were only teasing, and to come back.
‘Sorry.’ Flo looked worried as we heard a door slam from within the villa. ‘I shouldn’t have wound him up.’
I snorted. ‘Don’t be silly. He’s being completely oversensitive.’
‘You’re right to tell him to ease off with the shouting though. I’ve noticed that Teddy, in particular, gets really agitated when Tris loses it. Look.’ She nodded over at Teddy, who was now kicking and karate chopping one of the plants, while Clara wandered back to us, the game ruined, to find her towel.
I picked up the sun cream again, holding my hand out to Clara. ‘I’ll have another word with Tris later.’
‘Oh no, don’t,’ Flo said. ‘He’ll think I’m interfering. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ignore me.’
In the event, Tris perked up by the time we went to dinner and the temperature had dropped a bit. After a couple of drinks he was better still, fondly watching the children play in the square as we finished our food, joking about with us like nothing had happened, so I decided to leave it.
It was only when we were getting ready for bed that he began to niggle again.
‘It’s actually really important that the kids respect me as much as they do you.’ He watched me take my earrings off.
‘They do,’ I said firmly. ‘I’m just around them more than you are, that’s all. That’s why they look to me first.’
‘Because I’m at work,’ he said.
‘I’m at work too!’
‘Oh don’t start,’ he said. ‘I meant I’m physically absent from the house more than you. It just pisses me off that everything I do is judged as “wrong”. I bet you and Flo had a right old bitch about me after I went back in.’ He got into bed under the blanket and lay down, facing away from me.
‘Of course we didn’t.’ I unzipped my dress. ‘Although she did quite rightly point out that Teddy became more destructive after you lost it.’
He turned back indignantly. ‘I did not lose it! Look, I’m very happy for her to be here on our holiday with us, but I can do without her shoving her professional opinions my way, thanks very much. Why is it that therapists always seem to know how to fix everyone but themselves?’
‘Shhhh!’ I hissed. ‘She’ll hear you. She’s not here to analyse you, she’s on holiday getting over her boyfriend. Don’t be mean.’
‘Yeah, well you know why her blokes only last for six months max, don’t you?’ He looked at me pointedly. ‘It’s because she either goes for the twats who are never going to commit and gives them this “independent woman” bullshit when in fact that’s the last thing she is… so that’s on a hiding to nothing. OR she dumps the normal ones before it even has a chance to get going. She’s the queen of self-sabotage.’
‘That’s not fair, Tris, she knows she finds it hard to hold down a relationship. It’s something she’s working on, OK? Not everyone has parents who think the sun shines out of their children’s arses and gives them the kind of nuclear confidence you got when you were growing up, all right?’
‘You’re kidding me?’ His mouth fell open in apparent astonishment. ‘I know you think most things are my mother’s fault, but that’s a stretch, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t like you criticising my sister.’ I folded my dress, putting it over the chair and reaching for my T-shirt. ‘Is it any wonder Flo has self-esteem issues when it comes to men? We didn’t exactly have a cracking role model.’
Tris sighed tightly. ‘She’s having an “about to turn forty” midlife crisis – that’s all. She just needs to calm down and take a step back from it all. Can you come to bed now, please?’
‘I’m not tired all of a sudden.’
‘That’s OK, neither am I.’ He grinned at me.
I snorted. ‘You are joking?’
‘Um no, I’m really not.’ He sat up. ‘You promised me that if she came with us, we’d still have some time together. In fact, wasn’t she meant to babysit so we could go out just the two of us? When’s that going to happen, then?’
‘I don’t actually want to spend time with you when you’re being like this, funnily enough. Just go to sleep, wake up tomorrow in a better mood and don’t take whatever’s got your goat out on the rest of us. Good night.’
I made my way irritably to go and have a cigarette – now the kids were finally asleep – quietly slipping through the door, only to find Flo on the other side, sat on the sofa with silent tears streaming down her face, having heard every word.
Tris was appalled when I told him and offered to apologise to Flo. I said truthfully I thought that would make it even worse, so instead he seemed to have a word with himself, because the rest of the holiday was blissful. He played with the kids, joked around with us and didn’t touch the laptop again for the rest of the week. We actually did go out to dinner, just the two of us, on the Thursday night. We drove to the coast. It was warm enough to undo the car windows and the cool breeze blew through my hair as we listened to the radio while picking our way along the shoreline looking for somewhere to park. We ate outside, watching the sea sparkle in the moonlight as strings of twinkling fairy lights bobbed in the branches of the restaurant trees. We even chatted about something other than the children for a bit before returning to laughing about something Teddy had said, while idly wandering hand in hand past elaborate sand sculptures and night-time market stalls. Tris insisted we stop for one final drink at an exclusive hotel, deciding that we should come back and stay for a weekend, just the two of us, as soon as possible.
‘I love you,’ I said on the way back in the car, sleepy-tipsy and happy.
‘I love you too. I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a twat this week. All that stuff with Flo.’
I looked across at him. ‘You’re just stressed out. You’re working too hard. We both are.’
He sighed. ‘Yeah, we really need to do more stuff like this.’
‘Fly to other countries?’ I teased.
‘No, spend time together, you and me.’
‘Agreed. Let’s actually stick to it when we get home though, not just pay it lip service. I’ll find us a regular babysitter. We should get back in the habit of going out for a date night every week.’
>
‘That’s a good idea. We’ll do that.’
For the last couple of days we slipped back into a groove we’d not found for a long time. We kissed and held hands, cuddled and laughed on the sun loungers. It made me sad when Clara spied us having a hug by the pool and remarked aloud, ‘Daddy’s hugging Mummy!’, as if it was unusual enough to comment on, and rushed over to join us, hotly followed by Teddy. I privately resolved to pack our happiness in the suitcases and ensure it came home with us.
Even Flo was a million per cent more relaxed. She assured me again and again that she wasn’t still upset about what she’d heard Tris say. ‘In fact,’ she said, bravely, on the last evening, as we sat on the terrace watching the pool lights attracting moths in the dark while I quietly smoked, ‘he’s right. I do become too clingy with a certain type of man. I do self-sabotage. It needed to be said. It hurt, I can’t lie, but it did me good. He’s done me a favour. When I get back, I’m going to have a complete break from men and just throw myself into work. There are a couple of new clients I’ve been offered that I wasn’t going to take, but I will now.’
‘Good for you,’ I said, delighted. ‘Anything interesting?’ I always liked to hear about Flo and her counselling network’s particularly juicy cases. ‘All names changed to protect their identities, of course.’
‘No bin-bag shaggers at the moment, I’m afraid. Just lots of anxiety cases.’ She sighed. ‘Keep Clara and Teddy off phones as long as possible. Kids have it so tough now. You know that poor boy who killed himself because he learnt how to do it by watching self-harming sites? He was seeing someone I trained with.’
I fell silent. ‘I don’t know how you do your job,’ I said truthfully. ‘Why do you do it?’
She shrugged. ‘All the clichés like wanting to make a difference, helping people help themselves, but it’s a genuine privilege that people trust me with stuff that they might have been keeping locked up inside for years, sometimes not having told a single soul.’
I listened carefully, looking down at the ground and absently watching an ant searching methodically for food.
