by Kate Field
‘I’m told there will be half a page in The Times. We’ll convert the nation to Alice lovers yet!’
‘And hopefully make some money in the process,’ I added, wishing that I didn’t always have to be the practical one, keeping a firm grip on the strings of his balloon, stopping him getting carried away with academic enthusiasm. It was the job I had done for years, never questioning our roles. I wondered what it would be like to have someone anchoring my strings, letting me fly high.
‘Mum’s enjoying herself, isn’t she?’
‘You know she loves seeing your success. And she’s thrilled about Ethan coming back.’
‘How do you know about that?’ Leo’s voice was unexpectedly sharp. ‘Has he contacted you?’
‘No, why would he? Audrey told me earlier. She’s hoping he’ll stay until Christmas.’
‘Christmas? No, he won’t last so long. He was made to be the single man about New York. You should come round for dinner,’ he said, unexpectedly changing the subject. ‘Clark is an excellent cook.’
‘Tonight? I had a snack earlier with the children.’
‘No, not tonight. Come round properly, for a dinner party. Clark,’ Leo said. I hadn’t noticed Clark creep up, and forced myself to smile. ‘Tell Mary that we’d love to have her over for a dinner party.’
‘Of course we would.’ Clark’s smile was undoubtedly genuine. It was infuriatingly impossible to dislike him. ‘Nothing formal. Supper with a few friends. Why don’t you two fix a date and I’ll see who else is free?’
‘Marvellous,’ I said, hiding my true feelings behind Audrey’s favourite word again. ‘I’ll look forward to it.’
It wasn’t entirely a lie. I was curious to see Leo’s new home. The children had stayed over, but there was only so much information I could pump out of them. And I supposed I should be grateful now for any opportunity for a night out. An invitation from my ex-husband and his gay lover might be the best offer I had all year. It hit me, as the smartly dressed people swirled around me, the exotic cocktail of perfumes wafted past my nose, and excited chatter swept by my ears, that this might be my farewell performance on this stage. I had always been invited to these events as Leo’s wife. Where did that leave me now?
As I glanced around the room, searching for Audrey, my eyes were drawn to all the things I had ignored before: the reassuring touch on the small of a back; the secret smile exchanged across the expanse of the room; the speculative wink received with an encouraging blush. My radar was on high alert: I sensed relationships at every stage in all corners of the room. And I had never felt so alone in all my life.
‘Did Dad say anything last night?’ Ava asked the next morning, as she waved a piece of toast around, never quite bringing it within biting distance of her mouth.
‘Yes. He gave a speech about Alice Hornby. It went well.’
Ava tutted, rolled her eyes, and dropped the toast onto her plate.
‘I don’t mean about that,’ she said, fourteen years of accumulated disgust throbbing in every word. ‘Did he mention the sleepover?’
‘What sleepover?’ My own toast fell to my plate. I wasn’t going to like it, whatever it was; I knew by the way Ava was flicking her mousey hair in an artificially nonchalant way. She might look like a Black, but her character had been cut from the same cloth as mine. I glanced at Jonas, but he had his earphones in, and gave a shrug that either meant he hadn’t heard, or didn’t want to get involved. He resembled me, but his temperament was entirely Leo. It was hard to say which of them had the better deal.
‘I thought I’d invite a few friends for a sleepover, probably on the Bank Holiday weekend. Chloe can come,’ Ava said, knowing that I wouldn’t disapprove of Daisy’s daughter, and instantly making me worry who else she might want to invite. Surely not boys, at fourteen? My heart thudded at the very idea.
‘That’s great!’ I said, smiling too brightly in my relief that it was nothing worse than a sleepover. ‘We can rent a film and I’ll make popcorn and pizza …’
‘No need for that.’ Ava had twisted her hair so tightly round her finger that when she let go, it stayed in a ringlet. ‘We won’t be here. We’re going to Dad’s.’
‘Dad’s?’
‘Yeah, Clark said it would be okay.’
‘Clark?’
‘It’s his flat too. They have two spare bedrooms.’
So our one spare bedroom was no longer enough. My eyes flicked around the kitchen, taking in the relics of a family breakfast: toast crumbs on the worktop; a sticky trail of honey leading from the jar to the sink where the knife had been dumped; a couple of stray cornflakes on the floor; a puddle of milk on the table. And that was only as far as I could see: if I turned around, I would spot the pile of abandoned shoes, the coats and blazers thrown over the furniture, and the school books in a muddled heap, and not in school bags as I had requested last night. Of course Clark’s flat would be preferable to this. But I loved it here, whatever state it was in. My happiest memories were here, papered on the walls and blooming in the garden: memories of my father, before my mother drove him away, and memories of Leo and the children, before I had driven him away. One throwaway remark from Ava had prodded all my bruises: that was life with teenagers. I was a parent, not a human being: I wasn’t allowed to feel.
‘It’s a long way for everyone to go,’ I said, foolishly believing this was an innocuous remark. But that was another reality of living with teenagers: no remark was unarguable.
‘No, it’s not. If you drive us, it will only be an hour. And at least there’s something to do there.’
‘At Clark’s? What can you do that you can’t do here?’
‘We can go shopping, obviously.’
‘Shopping? With Dad?’
‘On our own. We don’t want Dad. He’s got less fashion sense than you. We don’t want to go to Marks & Spencer or somewhere like that.’
I discreetly felt the back of my top, making sure the M&S label was tucked down. It was rare that I had the advantage over Leo, especially where Ava was concerned. But then I stopped the thought, shame prickling across my chest. It wasn’t a competition. How could I be so disloyal as to feel a flicker of pleasure that for once I wasn’t the most embarrassing parent?
I stood up and began the usual morning routine of nagging and chivvying, in the vain hope that we might leave the house on time. Jonas chucked a few things in his rucksack, picked up an apple, ran his hands through his hair and was ready. Ten minutes later, Ava was still upstairs, titivating as my mother would have said. I bellowed up the stairs, sounding too much like Mum for comfort.
Ava stomped down after the third bellow. Her black eyeliner was so thick it looked like she’d applied it with a permanent marker pen, but I knew better than to start that discussion when we were pushed for time.
‘I’ve not finished my hair!’ Ava grumbled, standing a few stairs up from the bottom so that she could glower down at me more effectively. ‘Look at it!’ She grabbed a chunk and waved it in my direction. ‘I haven’t straightened this side. The kink is still there. I’m going to look hideous all day and it’s all your fault!’
Ava and her kink were legendary in our house: no one else saw it, but it caused her endless angst. And of course it was my fault, even though my hair was ruler straight, and if Ava did have a kink, it undoubtedly came from her Black genes; everything had been my fault since the day Leo moved out, and most of the time before that. The next stage in the familiar tirade was to blame me that she had inherited Leo’s mousey colouring, rather than my Celtic black hair and green eyes. Sure enough, Ava opened her mouth to begin the argument, but I bit my tongue, and whisked her and Jonas out of the house without another word.
It was no surprise that by the time we turned up at Broadholme, there were only a couple of minutes left before registration.
‘We were never late when Dad brought us,’ Ava pointed out. That was too much. Leo had done nothing but drive the car, oblivious to everything I had done to get the
children from their beds to the car door. But before I could retaliate, Jonas patted my arm.
‘Chill, Mum,’ he said. ‘We’re here now.’
I nodded in response to these wise teenage words, and to make up for my near grumpiness, I used my pass to enter the teachers’ car park: the pass was a perk of being on the PTA, although we were only meant to use it when we attended meetings. While the children took forever to gather their stuff, I loitered in the disabled space, engine running like a furtive getaway driver. Three loud knocks shook my window. I pressed the button to open it.
‘Mrs Black, you know I should give you detention for abusing your PTA pass.’ Owen Ferguson peered in at my open window, a warm smile making a joke of his words. ‘I hope you have an excellent excuse.’
‘Can I blame the dog? That’s the traditional excuse, isn’t it?’
‘It is. Whose homework has Dotty eaten?’ Owen smiled across at Jonas, who shrugged, and at Ava in the back, who flushed pink and avoided eye contact. ‘I’d love to hear how missing homework can explain your presence in the teachers’ car park.’
I laughed. ‘Okay, you’ve rumbled me. Dotty is innocent. We were running late, that’s all. There’s no hope of escaping that detention, is there?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Perhaps we could discuss it over an after-school drink?’
An after-school drink? What on earth did that mean? An instant coffee in the staff room with a borrowed mug, or a proper drink in the pub in the evening? Did he mean just the two of us? Alone? A date? I’d never been on a date in my life. The moment stretched. Embarrassment stole over Owen’s face. Jonas and Ava were staring at me; I didn’t need to see them to know that. The ghost of Leo hovered over my shoulder. Owen’s head was framed in the rectangle of the window, gentleness and kindness engraved on every feature. How could I be anxious about anyone who reminded me so much of Leo?
‘A drink sounds great,’ I said. ‘Let me know when you’re free.’
Owen looked surprised, but then smiled with more pleasure than my agreement could possibly deserve.
‘I will do.’ He tapped his watch. ‘Come on, you two, time for registration.’
He wandered off, but despite his warning, there was no movement from within my car.
‘Mum!’ I turned to see Ava’s wide-eyed, stricken face. ‘What are you doing? You can’t go for a drink with Mr Ferguson.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s a teacher!’ Ava said this with the expression and tone of voice that might have been justified if she was outing Owen as a cannibal. But I could still feel the warm glow from his smile, making me defiant.
‘So what? I’m pretty sure he’s a man as well.’
‘Urgh, that’s just gross.’
‘What is?’
‘You and Mr Ferguson … kissing.’
‘We’re not kissing.’ Of course, I immediately started thinking about kissing. Could I kiss Owen? His lips were plumper than Leo’s. Would that feel odd? The whole idea of kissing other lips seemed odd. I had never expected to do it, had never wanted to do it, except once, in one mad, extraordinary moment … Heat rushed across my skin. ‘Let’s see how the drink goes first.’
Jonas pulled out one earphone, and grinned.
‘Go on, Mum,’ he said. ‘He’ll be lucky to have you.’
Ava reached across from the back seat and punched him on the shoulder.
‘Shut up. It’s embarrassing. She’s too old for all that.’
‘I’m only thirty-eight.’
‘Exactly!’
‘Dad’s forty-two.’
‘But he’s not going out with one of my teachers! What will my friends say? It will be so embarrassing. I can’t believe you’re doing this to us. You’re so selfish.’
Ava got out of the car, slammed the door, and stomped off without saying goodbye. Jonas loitered, passenger door open.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, gazing at me with eyes that were just like mine, only without the bags and wrinkles. ‘You deserve some fun. She’ll get used to it.’
I didn’t believe either statement, but leaned across the handbrake and kissed his cheek. He submitted before pulling away and strolling into school. I waited in the car park until he was out of sight, grateful that while I had lost so much, I still had my lovely, peace-keeping boy.
Chapter 6
A few years ago I set up an informal ‘meals on wheels’ service for the older residents of the village, so early the next week, when I was left with an extra meal at lunchtime, I dropped in at Audrey’s house to see if she wanted it.
‘Audrey!’ I called, as I pushed open the door with my shoulder, balancing the plate of food in my hands. ‘It’s only me! One of the old dears went out shopping and forgot I was coming, so I have …’
The plate fell to the ground, bouncing on the lino and sending vegetables rolling. Audrey was lying on the floor, half in the kitchen, half in the hall. She was wearing her pyjamas and slippers; a mug lay on its side on the hall carpet beyond Audrey’s head, surrounded by a brown stain; there was another stain on the kitchen lino, spreading from beneath Audrey’s legs. The smell of rich morning urine filled the room.
‘Don’t come in, Mary.’ Audrey’s voice was faint, weakened by fear. A sheen of sweat shimmered on her face, around eyes that were enormous and terrified. Audrey, my lovely, lively Audrey, looked as if every second of her sixty-five years had stamped their mark on her all at once, adding ten more years for good measure.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked, stepping over some stray broccoli, and kneeling at her side. Her left arm was tucked underneath her at an awkward angle. I took her right hand, rubbing it between mine, trying to add warmth. ‘How long have you been here? Since breakfast?’
‘I tripped over the door plate …’
The door plate between the kitchen and the hall had been loose for months. I had told Leo before Christmas, and he had promised to fix it – but as usual, I hadn’t wanted to nag. Why hadn’t I pressed him? Why hadn’t I fixed it myself? Was it because somewhere in my head, I hadn’t accepted that this post-Leo world was real?
‘Where are you hurt? Can you tell?’
‘My arm. Mainly my wrist. I can’t lean on it to get up.’
‘Don’t try. I’m calling an ambulance.’
I started to stand, but Audrey clutched my arm. Her grasp was as feeble as a child’s.
‘No. I can’t go in an ambulance like this.’
I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. I ran upstairs to her bedroom and picked out a fresh pair of knickers and pyjamas. It was an effort to put them on, as I feared exacerbating injuries or causing Audrey pain; she closed her eyes when I inched down her knickers, and I stopped, terrified I might be damaging a broken hip, but she insisted I carry on. It never occurred to me to be embarrassed. I would walk on hot coals rather than undress my own mum, but this was Audrey. Nothing was too much for her.
I couldn’t change her pyjama top, as I couldn’t risk disturbing her arm.
‘I don’t match!’ she said, with a hint of her normal self.
‘I don’t expect the paramedics will mind,’ I replied, putting down the phone after calling for an ambulance. ‘We’ll tell them that it’s the latest fashion: mismatched pyjamas as daywear. In fact, if I’m quick, I could go and put on some random nightwear too, to establish the trend.’
That raised a weak smile, which was better than nothing, and while we waited for the ambulance I followed Audrey’s instructions and washed her face, applied lipstick, and spritzed her with perfume. I tried ringing Leo, but he was on voicemail, so I left a message. Then all I could do was wait.
We seemed to spend hours in A&E, but at least when Audrey was finally seen, the news wasn’t as bad as it might have been. Audrey had suffered a Colles fracture, which meant that she’d broken the bone in her left arm just above the wrist. It was a clean break, and didn’t need surgery, but she would be in a plaster cast for up to six weeks, and she could have residual sti
ffness for up to a year. For a fiercely independent woman, who was prone to think herself half her actual age, it was hard to accept, and I turned my back, pretending to read a poster while Audrey shed some discreet tears.
‘Has Leo not telephoned?’ she asked, while we waited for confirmation that she could go home.
‘Not yet. I’ve left a couple of messages.’
‘What about Ethan? Have you let him know that I’m fine? I would hate for him to be anxious.’
‘I haven’t told Ethan.’ It hadn’t crossed my mind. What use would he be, in New York? ‘I don’t have his number.’
‘What time will it be over there? About lunchtime? Do call him. He’ll tell me off if he finds out days after the event. Take my phone and give him a ring. Make sure he knows that I’m right as rain, and there’s no cause for panic.’
Reluctantly, I took Audrey’s phone and went outside, squeezing past the smokers balancing on crutches at the entrance of the hospital, to find an empty bench. Ethan’s number rang out, and I scuffed my feet under the bench, hoping for voicemail.
‘Hello, Mum! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you today. What are you up to?’
I had to lift the phone away from my ear: the love that poured from it, coupled with that familiar Lancashire accent with a New York twist, caught my breath in a way I hadn’t expected.
‘Mum? Are you there?’
‘It’s Mary.’
‘Hello, Mary Black! What are you doing brightening my day?’ And then his tone changed as realisation dawned. ‘Mary? Is something wrong?’
‘It’s all fine, but Audrey wanted me to let you know that she fell over today …’
‘How bad is it?’ Ethan interrupted. His voice was raw with fear. I wished this job hadn’t fallen to me. Leo should have been the one to tell him – if only Leo had returned my calls. ‘No varnish, Mary. Is she okay?’
‘She will be. She’s fractured her wrist – her left one, so she’ll still be able to use her right hand. Although not for a few days. She’s bruised her knee, so will need a stick for a while until that settles.’
