by Lindsey Kelk
‘Look, it’s starting!’
‘I fucking love fireworks.’ James Jacobs strode over, plucked Jenny off my lap and placed her on top of his broad shoulders. ‘I’ve got to say, Lopez, you’ve really pulled this off. When you emailed me, my first thought was “Uh-oh, Fyre Fest 2.0” but this has been a fantastic weekend.’
‘And no one had to exchange sexual favours for Evian!’ I cheered.
Jenny cupped her hands around her mouth and whooped loudly. James anchored her legs to his chest as we all cheered, dozens of fireworks exploding overhead.
‘I gotta confess, this was Bertie’s idea,’ she said over the chorus of oohs and ahhs. ‘He had them left from some other party and Kekipi organized the entire thing. I’m just glad they worked – looking at the boxes, they seemed pretty old.’
‘Um, not to be a party pooper,’ Louisa said, pointing off into the distance. ‘But do we know where that smoke is coming from?’
We all followed her finger to see a thin stream of grey smoke rising from behind the main house.
‘That’s definitely supposed to be there, right?’ Jenny slid down off James’s shoulders. ‘Like, there’s been smoke every night and we just haven’t noticed?’
No one said anything, the rest of the group distracted by the fireworks that continued above our heads.
‘Maybe I should go check,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing.’
‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ I agreed, almost believing it. Until we heard an explosion that definitely was not a firework going off.
‘It’s OK!’ Jenny shouted at the top of her voice as people on the beach began to whisper. ‘It’s all part of the firework display, no one panic!’
Louisa sniffed at the air, an expression on her face that directly contravened Jenny’s orders.
‘Something is on fire,’ she whispered urgently. ‘What if it’s the house? What if we get stuck here on the beach?’
‘The house isn’t on fire and we aren’t going to get stuck on the beach,’ I insisted, even though I was sure of nothing. What if my villa was on fire? My passport? My laptop? And then a horrible thought occurred to me, what if I’d left my straighteners on? What if I’d burned down Bertie Bennett’s Lanai estate because I’d been too lazy to blow-dry my hair properly and had run the straighteners through it instead?
‘Everyone stay where they are!’ shouted Sumi, as if a group of social media influencers were about to roll up their sleeves and put the fire out themselves. ‘No one panic!’
At the end of the table, I saw Jenny talking to Camilla Rose, an animated exchange that did not seem to be going terribly well.
‘It’s all part of the display,’ she yelled. ‘This is all part of the plan, it’s a traditional Hawaiian house burning. What a fucking treat, right?’
‘See,’ James said, picking up another bottle of champagne as orange flames began to rise from whatever we were watching. ‘This is why we can’t have nice things.’
As the sound of sirens serenaded us down on the beach and Bertie Bennett’s vintage fireworks boomed overhead, James popped the champagne and filled everyone’s glasses.
‘Why aren’t you worried?’ I asked as Louisa tapped out a tearful text message to Tim and the rest of the girls live-streamed the disaster to their various social media platforms.
‘Please,’ he said, drinking straight out the bottle. ‘You can’t call yourself a Hollywood actor until you’ve seen at least one party end in a house burning down. And I’ve seen three. Nine times out of ten it’s caused by fireworks. The first one was a heartbreaker, I don’t think Leo ever got over losing that place.’
‘I’m sure Jenny has it under control,’ I said, hugging Louisa to me and watching the flames lick the sky as more sirens sounded somewhere out of sight. ‘Who else would you want in charge of an emergency?’
‘Exactly,’ James said, watching Jenny race across the sand and back up the staircase, her assistants close behind her. ‘But it does call for a new toast. A memorable end to a memorable trip.’
As the first arc of water from the fire engine rose into the air, I took a sip, one arm around Lou’s shoulders, the other around James’s waist.
A memorable end to a memorable trip?
It certainly had been that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I let myself into the house as quietly as possible.
It was eight in the evening and even though Alice should have been asleep for at least an hour, I didn’t want to take any chances. After all the drama of the fire, everyone had trickled away from Hala Lanai over the course of the evening and into the next morning. Disappearing in pink Jeeps until all that was left was me, Louisa and a very crestfallen Jenny. There was a slight chance the trip hadn’t gone quite as well as she’d planned but over all, other than a bruised coccyx, a two-day hangover and the fact everything in my suitcase smelled like I’d been smoking fifty a day, I’d really had quite a nice time.
The hallway was silent, the living room empty as I wheeled my suitcase inside, locked the door behind me and checked the fridge for milk. Old habits die hard. Alex had to be downstairs in the studio and his mother had to be gone, proof that miracles could happen. Shrugging off my coat, I carefully, carefully, carefully opened the door to Al’s room. Motherhood had made a ninja out of me. I knew if I pushed all my weight down on the handle, the door wouldn’t creak, and if I took two steps to the left before I walked over to her cot, I could avoid the squeaky floorboard we still hadn’t got round to replacing. Ducking under the mobile so as not to set off the flying duck that just loved to blast out a verse of ‘Clair de Lune’ if you so much as looked at it, I peeped down at my little girl.
She was fast asleep, flat on her back with her thumb in her mouth, doubtlessly traumatized by a long weekend of elaborate headwear. Annette Clark would certainly have something to say about the thumbsucking but I was a woman who chose her battles wisely and it was not the hill I intended to die on that evening.
After a quick wee and spritz of Old Spice deodorant, I following the softened sounds of Alex’s guitar as I made my way down the short staircase that led to his studio. He’d tried to teach me to play so many times but I could never get further than my crowd-pleasing acoustic cover of ‘Umbrella’. And by crowd-pleasing, I meant Angela-pleasing. But to Alex, playing guitar was the easiest thing next to breathing. He only had to hear a song once before he could play it perfectly. I loved to sit on the stairs and listen to him play without him knowing I was there. Jenny and Louisa both complained about their husbands’ silent moods but I never needed to practise my mind-reading skills with Alex, not when he had a guitar in his hands.
Tonight he was playing something quiet and gentle that wouldn’t wake the baby. I didn’t recognize the tune and I couldn’t make out the words he whispered as he played it but it sounded like something he had written. I could tell an Alex Reid original from the first three notes these days. I spotted the baby monitor on his mixing desk and smiled. Night-vision Alice, still sound asleep. Holding myself back on the stairs, I revelled in my stolen moments. This was what Al had been talking about in Janey’s garden. Alex’s eyes were closed, his long fringe was tucked behind one ear and he strummed his new Martin guitar, the one he’d brought home with wild eyes and refused to tell me how much it cost because ‘you couldn’t put a price on love’.
Standing there and watching him play, I understood what he meant.
Five days was the longest we’d been apart since Alice was born and now that I was only three feet away from him, I realized it was five days too many. Knocking gently on the door, I held up my hand in a wave. The moment was too perfect to ruin with words. Alex rubbed his eyes as he came out of his songwriting stupor, looking at me as though he was dreaming. And then he smiled. That same slow smile I’d first seen all those years ago, in a diner that didn’t exist any more.
‘Hey,’ Alex said, resting his hands on top of his guitar and tilting his face upwards for a kiss, not at all surpris
ed to see me. I pressed my lips to his, eyes closed, and knew I was home.
‘Hey yourself,’ I said as I ran my hand through his thick, black hair. I loved it long, he liked it shorter, but I definitely hadn’t accidentally-on-purpose forgotten to make him an appointment with my stylist friend twice in the last month.
‘It’s getting long.’ He tucked it back behind his ear as I felt unexpected butterflies flutter into life in my stomach. ‘I gotta get it cut before the show on Friday.’
I smiled, resting my bum on the mixing desk and taking a moment to wonder just how I’d got so lucky.
‘What’s up, nothing to say?’ Alex asked, pressing his hands to his pale cheeks. ‘Did you lose your voice? Or has an entire weekend with Louisa and Lopez at the same time worn out your vocal cords?’
‘A woman can’t fly five thousand miles to take another look at her husband?’ I asked.
His hair fell in front of his face as he set his guitar in its stand but when he brushed it back, he was smiling.
‘You watched A Star Is Born on the plane, huh?
‘Yes I did,’ I replied. ‘And it remains glorious.’
‘How was the weekend?’
‘Completely amazing until Jenny put on a firework display and accidentally burned down two buildings.’
‘She’s never house-sitting for us. Ever,’ he said, slicing the air with his palm.
Alex reached out for my hand and pulled me into his lap. I straddled him carefully, wrapping my arms around his neck, cradling his face in my hands and leaning in for another kiss.
‘We missed you,’ he said softly. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you too,’ I whispered. ‘Was everything OK? How was Al? How’s your ankle?’
‘Ankle’s fine,’ he mumbled, my forehead resting against his forehead. I curled my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and breathed in. ‘Alice was gorgeous. There was a minor incident when I accidentally washed Sophie the Giraffe but she seems over it now. She’s going to be so happy you’re home. She loves her mummy.’
We kissed in a way we hadn’t in what felt like forever. Alex’s mouth was hot against mine and he held me as though he was trying to make me a part of him, his hands moving up and down my back, snatching up handfuls of my hair, proving to himself that I was really there. He buried his face in my neck as I closed my eyes and revelled in his touch and the lean muscles in his broad shoulders as they moved under my hands, my legs wrapped around his narrow waist. He slid his hands underneath my sweater and then the T-shirt under that and pushed them both up over my head. Warm hands on cold skin. I shook off my clothes, tossing them across the room and watching them land on the head of his guitar from the corner of my eye.
‘Angela,’ he gasped as I pulled his head backwards.
‘Alex,’ I moaned, kissing his throat.
‘Are you wearing my deodorant?’ he asked.
‘Shut up,’ I ordered, kissing him hard and deep and fast. He scooped me up, my legs still wrapped around his waist, and I felt the cold, hard wall against my back as he tore his own T-shirt over his head and fumbled with the button fly of his jeans. My feet found the floor as I tugged at my own zip, wondering if it had ever been so difficult to remove my clothes before. Hot, sweaty, my breath coming harder with every passing moment, I looked up for just a second and caught his gaze. It was just us. I didn’t just want him, I needed him.
Things had changed since our first encounter. I cried when Erin told me Manatus, the cute little neighbourhood restaurant where we met, had closed but that was New York, always changing. Just because you loved something, didn’t mean it was forever. Everything came and went over time, especially if you forgot to give it your attention. I hadn’t been to Manatus in years and then I was surprised when it closed … Didn’t really make any sense when I thought about it.
But sometimes, if you were very, very lucky, you found something else, something different to what you started out with. It would be a lie to say things were exactly the same as they were when Alex and I first met because they weren’t.
They were even better.
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Good morning.’
Jetlag was a monster.
I woke up, groggy, dazed, confused and wondering why the soothing sounds of the ocean had been replaced with honking horns and angry voices. The sun was streaming in through our bedroom window.
‘Alice, look who’s home.’
And then it all made sense.
‘Gimme, gimme, gimme,’ I said, scuttling my bum backwards until I was almost upright, nestled in a pile of pillows and holding my arms out for Alice. ‘Oh my god, she’s bigger. She’s definitely bigger. Alex, don’t you think she’s grown?’
‘No,’ he said, handing over the precious cargo. ‘I don’t.’
‘Mummy missed you,’ I whispered, clutching her so tightly she’d be complaining about this moment in therapy as an adult. Without warning, my eyes began to prickle, my nose started to burn and that was it, I was off.
‘Don’t cry!’ Alex yelled quietly, climbing onto the bed and folding both me and Alice into a hug. ‘You’ll set her off. What’s wrong?’
‘I just missed her so much,’ I sobbed. ‘And I didn’t even realize until now.’
‘Then this might not be the best time for this,’ he said, reaching under the bed to pull out a large, black box.
‘What is it?’ I asked, choking back more tears as Alice reached out to wipe the wetness from my face. I caught hold of her hand and nibbled on her fingers, bottom lip still trembling.
‘Open it and see.’ Alex sat back on the bed. ‘Actually, give her to me. This could get messy.’
Lifting the lid from the box, I stared at the contents for a moment before a fresh set of overemotional sobs took me over. It was my bag. My Marc Jacobs satchel, stitched back together and sporting a brand new leather strap.
‘Alex,’ I wailed, picking up the bag and holding it to my chest, right where Alice had been only moments before. ‘I love it so much.’
‘Hal, the guy who makes my custom guitar straps, put it back together so it should be pretty sturdy,’ he explained while Alice writhed, stretching her hand for the box. ‘And this …’ he ran a finger along the new shoulder strap, ‘is the strap from the guitar I played the very first time you came to see me play.’
I didn’t know if it was hormones, jetlag or the residual hangover from my weekend in Lanai but I couldn’t stop crying.
‘Is this a bad time to point out where they stitched a piece of the blanket we brought Alice home in into the lining?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I wept, crawling across the bed and melting into a bag, baby, husband group hug. ‘I love it so much. I love you so much.’
‘We’re a good team,’ Alex whispered into my hair. ‘And even the best teams have bumpy moments.’
‘I’m going to remind you of that the next time you get mad at me for not sorting the recycling,’ I said, a smile breaking through my tears as Alice curled her fingers around the strap of my bag and jerked it up and down until the buckles jingled.
‘Like mother like daughter,’ Alex said with a happy sigh. ‘I think we need to get to work on giving her a little brother sooner rather than later.’
Swallowing back my tears, I scoffed, taking my daughter back into my arms and resting my cheek on her glossy black hair. ‘My uterus would like at least another year off,’ I said. ‘But we should probably start practising more often, just so we don’t forget how.’
‘I’m gonna hold you to that.’ He jumped off the bed and stretched his long, lean body until he touched the top of the doorframe with his fingertips. ‘Pancakes for breakfast?’
‘Yes, please,’ I replied, all eyes on Alice and my new old bag, even more precious than ever.
‘And then I want to hear all about Jenny burning this hotel to the ground,’ he called as he wandered off towards the kitchen.
‘It wasn’t the entire place,’ I said to Alice, bumping her up
and down on my knees. ‘It was just two outhouse buildings and a garage, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?’
Alice did not seem able to confirm or deny.
Holding her again felt like plugging myself in at the socket. Maybe I was like my laptop, I needed to drain the battery completely before I could get the best out of a full recharge? So many mums had told me they didn’t feel whole until they’d had their children, that they were the final piece of the puzzle they hadn’t realized was missing, but it didn’t feel that way for me. To me, Alice was like Alex. Impossibly wonderful additions to my life that I couldn’t imagine living another day without. Things had been wonderful before I knew them but they were even better now. They didn’t complete me, they helped me become the best version of me. At least, when I wasn’t being insecure and neurotic and utterly convinced I was failing at every part of my life. But that’s what my friends were for, wasn’t it? To pick up the pieces Alex and Alice fumbled; no one person could juggle everything.
They say it takes a village to raise a child, I thought as I watched my own try to bury herself face first in a bag I had bought before I even knew her dad existed, but I felt ‘it takes an army to keep a mother together’ was far more accurate.
I’d planned to work from home on Wednesday but my conversation with Paige was running over and over in my head and sitting on it wasn’t going to make me feel any better about the way I’d handled things. Yes, we’d had a great time in Hawaii but she was still my boss. Maybe not a whip-cracking overlord but, still, the person who ultimately decided whether or not I got paid at the end of the month and I really wanted us to get off on the right foot.
Leaving Alice happily hanging out with the nanny and Alex deeply preoccupied with his upcoming gig, I took myself off to the office, a bit tired, a bit emotional but entirely certain of what I wanted to say. Dodging a man wearing a monocle as I walked down Bedford Avenue, I heard my phone ringing. My third phone in as many weeks. I was making do with an ancient handset, equipped with a SIM card from the newsagent at the airport, until my new iPhone arrived at the end of the week and the only people who knew the number were Alex, Louisa, Jenny and, of course, my mother.
