by Jo Lovett
Decision made, he swallowed the last bit of his now extremely mushy mouthful.
‘Not really,’ he told Liv. ‘I’m probably not going to see her much any more. Eat your pasta and then you can have another slice of Barney’s cake.’
‘Are you going out with her this evening?’ Barney’s stutter was even more pronounced now. Sam shook his head. He’d seen Melissa a handful of times for a Sunday evening drink and now he thought about it he’d much rather spend the time at home, with his family. In fact, now that the kids were older and went to bed later, he should probably socialise less in the evenings. He’d meet Melissa for a weekday coffee or lunch to tell her in person that things were over between them. He wasn’t going to sacrifice an evening with the kids.
‘Nope,’ he said. ‘Rather hang out with you guys. Maybe catch a TV show together?’
‘Okay, cool.’ Barney’s smile was a joy to see. And his easy speech was a joy to hear.
A week later and Sam still hadn’t managed to speak to Melissa. To be fair, he’d barely had time to speak to anyone. Three o’clock in the afternoon on a glorious summer’s day in the Hamptons, and he was sitting at a table in the north-facing dining room of the beach house they were renting for the week with his parents and one of his sisters and her family, battling with unreliable Wi-Fi and stupid amounts of work, while the others hung out on the beach.
The hell with it. He was going to go and join them. He’d work during the night. Maybe the Wi-Fi would be better then, with less competition for it.
Within ten minutes, he was changed and jogging toward a family game of beach volleyball, the white sand warm and soft under his toes, the sounds of seagulls and lapping waves mingling with laughter and chatter. This was what life should be about.
After some serious high-fiving between him, the twins and his father following a resounding underdog victory over his sister, her husband and their older teen sons, Sam suggested a walk to Barney. He’d promised himself before this holiday that he was going to take some time alone with each twin.
They walked parallel to the ocean through warm, shallow water, gentle incoming waves tickling their ankles. Barney’s in-depth and very fluent analysis of the last few, crucial points of their volleyball match was a joy to hear.
The conversation moved on through other sports and then to school and Barney’s sessions with Izzy.
‘I like them,’ Barney said simply. ‘Izzy’s nicer than all the other therapists. That’s why it’s working. Her strategies aren’t that different. It’s her.’
Sam nodded. ‘Yeah, she’s great.’ And then his phone rang and he made the mistake of glancing at it, and Barney clammed up even though Sam didn’t actually answer it. More great parenting. Good job Liv wasn’t there to sneer and his mother to look concerned; they’d both been doing a lot of that this week.
It was another week before Sam was able to see Melissa in person. The Buck deal was turning out to be a complete nightmare and work was busy anyway with clients trying to finalise projects before they exited the city for summer vacations. So it wasn’t just Melissa that Sam didn’t have time to see; he also barely saw the twins, other than some snatched phone conversations with a superficially understanding Liv and a stuttering Barney.
Sam hadn’t even suggested summer camps for this year. Liv needed to be completely recovered from her physical injuries and to continue to attend her physio appointments regularly, and Barney clearly wasn’t in the right place for it emotionally. They had both agreed to attend some day camps in the city, and the rest of the time they were mainly hanging out in the apartment, with Mrs H, Sam’s housekeeper.
And now it was Thursday evening and he was finally on his way to a bar to meet Melissa for the last time. He was emailing Izzy as he walked. He hadn’t really had time for it, but he’d nonetheless exchanged a few emails with her that week.
He’d mentioned to her that he’d be going to London next month for work and taking the kids, so maybe she and Barney could meet then. Sam wouldn’t mind meeting Izzy in person again himself. Izzy, Ruby and Emma had a weekend break in New York in August already arranged, so they could meet up then too. Which, if he was honest, he was really looking forward to. He was loving Izzy being in their lives, and not just because she was a great therapist for Barney; she was enriching Sam’s life too.
It was amazing how well you could get to know a person without actually seeing them. Recently they’d talked on email about their ideal jobs (Izzy, jockey; Sam, professional hockey player or inventor). They traded recipes (just the bolognese one in Sam’s case), and shared anecdotes about their real jobs. They’d even talked about their kids – not just from a client/therapist perspective, but as two parents doing their best. Izzy was clearly devoted to Ruby, and it was nice to be able to talk openly with someone who understood.
The emails had been a comforting thread through the otherwise shitty fabric of the past few weeks.
Sam laughed out loud at an anecdote in Izzy’s last email and noticed only just in time a taxi bearing down on him as he crossed the road. He typed out a quick reply before going inside.
‘You’re late.’ Melissa was standing unsmilingly at the bar holding a glass of red wine. ‘Ten minutes late but also two weeks late.’
‘Sorry. I’ve been busy.’ Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d dump him, right now.
He bought himself a beer and they found a table in the corner.
‘Sorry I snapped. I missed you.’ Melissa moved her stool closer to Sam’s. Damn.
He should just get on with it.
‘Melissa, I’m so sorry. As you alluded to, I’m incredibly busy in my life right now, I don’t think I have time for a relationship. Work’s insane. The kids. It isn’t fair to you. You deserve better.’ Really? Why hadn’t he planned this better? Any minute he’d literally be saying, It isn’t you, it’s me.
‘Your kids are teenagers. They must want their own lives.’
‘I’m sorry. They need me. More, actually, as they get older.’
Melissa’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is there someone else?’
‘No. There really isn’t.’ Sam’s phone buzzed and he wondered if it was Izzy replying to his pun. It had been a good one, if he said it himself. He really wanted to read her reaction.
‘You know what? Screw you. You keep me waiting to tell me this?’ Melissa pushed her stool back so violently that it fell over, and stalked over to the bar. She spoke to the barman and then went into the restroom.
Sam was trying very hard not to smile too much at Izzy’s reply to him when the barman that Melissa had spoken to came over with an open bottle and two glasses.
‘Your fiancée asked for a bottle of our finest champagne, sir.’ The barman indicated the fancy bottle. ‘Armand de Brignac Brut Gold, Ace of Spades.’ Holy crap. Sam didn’t need to google to know that this was going to have been a very expensive break-up. Melissa waved at him on her way out of the bar.
Sam should probably at the very least drink one glass but actually he just wanted to get home to the twins. ‘We aren’t going to drink this after all,’ he told the jaw-dropped barman, getting out his credit card. ‘Why don’t you and your co-workers share it?’
His first thought was to tell Izzy about this, except he’d never mentioned Melissa to her in the first place.
After a long night working, a short night at home in bed, and a very long morning in the office, Sam got an exceedingly foully worded message from Melissa, so over the top that it almost made him laugh, and an email from Izzy which made him smile.
Hi,
Made your bolognese yesterday evening. The chocolate’s genius. Ruby said YUM and she was right.
Izzy
Two very different women.
Twelve
Izzy
Izzy blinked her eyes open with difficulty.
Ruby was silhouetted in the bedroom doorway.
‘Mmm?’ Izzy said. She had no strength for actual words.
‘I’ve had an accident.�
� Bloody hell. Izzy fumbled for her phone.
Three thirty-seven. She was going to have to drag her heavy limbs out of bed and sort Ruby out. Torture.
‘Give me minute,’ she mumbled.
‘Mummy, I’m wet.’
‘Yep. Sorry. Love you. Coming. Don’t move.’
Izzy counted to ten. Four times. And then, in one superwoman move, swung her legs out of bed. Okay. She could do this.
‘I weed on the duvet and on the pillow too.’ Ruby sounded very tearful.
‘It’s okay. Let’s give you a very quick shower and get some clean pyjamas and then you can get into bed with me.’ No way was Izzy doing a full bed change now.
* * *
Izzy should have done the full bed change. Four forty-nine. She was wide, wide awake with Ruby pressed right up against her. Cuddles were so lovely. But briefly. Not all night. There had to be a good four foot of empty bed on Ruby’s other side. Izzy gently prised Ruby’s arms away from her neck, got out, tiptoed round the end of the bed, and got back in onto the lovely cool mattress. So nice. She was finally going to go to sleep. So good. So nice.
‘Mummy, where are you?’ Ruby’s flailing arm hit Izzy in the face and she rolled over and pressed her hot little body against Izzy’s. Bloody hell.
‘Love you, gorgeous girl.’ Bloody hell. Izzy was going to die of tiredness tomorrow.
Rohan and Emma were already at their agreed picnic spot under a tree on Primrose Hill, and were laying a blanket out.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ panted Izzy. She plonked herself down on the rug next to them. ‘Nodded off on the sofa after Dominic picked Ruby up. Really bad night’s sleep. They’re going out for lunch but Dominic suggested joining us afterwards. I hope that’s alright. Sorry to spring it on you.’
‘Of course it’s alright.’ Emma kicked her ballet pumps off and sat down on one side of the rug with a poker straight back. ‘Always a delight to see Ruby.’
‘And Dominic.’ One of the lovely things about Rohan was his unfailing politeness. ‘When’s he moving back?’
‘In a few weeks. Great for Ruby obviously but he wants to spend more time with her. I miss her when she’s with him.’
‘Annoying that he can bugger off to Italy for a year and then come back and see Ruby on his terms.’ Emma was sitting even straighter. ‘How much custody will he want?’
‘Well, to give him his due—’ which Izzy was going to have to do, because moving to Milan for a fantastic work opportunity wasn’t a crime, and he’d made a lot of effort to visit Ruby regularly ‘—he isn’t being that demanding. I mean, it could be worse. A lot worse. He’s suggesting one full day every weekend and four weeks a year of the holidays. And today we’re going to spend half the day together, so it isn’t even a whole day. I know I’m lucky. But it’s still quite stressful.’ She opened her picnic bag. ‘Drink? I have Prosecco and cassis, plus beer. Plus water in Ruby’s particularly tasteful unicorn bottles.’
‘Beer, thanks,’ Rohan said. ‘Dominic will be entitled to up to fifty per cent custody, so looking at it from a legal entitlement perspective, you’re lucky that he isn’t asking for more.’
‘Whatever.’ Emma added cassis to a mini bottle of Prosecco. ‘Basically, you get to combine full-time working with all the school runs and homework and so on and then at the weekends he gets to have one lovely parenting day while you get to fit in all the homework and crap on the other day? And as she gets older there’ll be a lot of crap homework.’
‘Yes.’
‘Although all the homework and other crap is real life, isn’t it?’ said Rohan. ‘And if you think about your own childhood, that’s what makes you close to your primary carer, isn’t it? Think about your grandmother versus your parents, Iz.’
‘Good point.’ Izzy nodded. She hadn’t seen much of either of them. They’d both been too busy with their new families. Her father had provided occasional, very glamorous, outings, of the yacht, helicopter, Michelin-starred restaurant genre; and her mother had provided occasional sophisticated outings, of the niche fourteenth-century Korean archaeological artefact museum exhibition genre, and sex accoutrements on important dates. Her grandmother had provided constant love and care, shopping and cinema trips, and been there at doctors’ appointments, parents’ evenings and school sports fixtures, just been there. ‘Yep, you’re right. Granny was always my number one. Thank you, Rohan. Although this shouldn’t be a competition.’
‘It won’t be. You’re too nice for that.’
‘Thank you.’ Izzy smiled at him.
‘He’s right. You’re lovely and you’re doing an amazing job at keeping things normal for Ruby.’ Emma slurped her Prosecco. ‘So you had afternoon tea with Dominic and now you’re spending this afternoon together.’
‘With Ruby, and you.’ It was clear where Emma’s mind was going. ‘Not just the two of us. Although Dominic did suggest dinner, just us.’ Full disclosure. ‘Which I thought would be nice. I actually really enjoyed our afternoon tea.’
Emma pursed her lips and then opened them. Rohan gave her a massive nudge. She closed her mouth.
‘Dominic’s a nice guy,’ Rohan said.
Emma bottom-shuffled forwards out of his reach and said, ‘I have to say, Izzy, because I love you and I love Ruby, that if you’re tempted to get back together with Dominic, it would only be a good thing for Ruby if you could do it happily. Don’t you think?’
‘Mmm, probably.’ Izzy couldn’t be bothered to deny that it was crossing her mind ever more frequently that maybe they should think about getting back together, if Dominic was keen. Ruby clearly missed him and Izzy did like him. ‘But what is being together happily? It’s just all about compromise, isn’t it?’
‘Er, no, it’s about being in love and being best friends and fancying each other plus loving each other’s company and all of that?’ Emma said, with a duh shoulder raise.
‘Yes, because you’re the expert.’ Rohan almost never said snippy things. Izzy turned to stare at him.
‘Because I haven’t yet found the perfect man.’ Emma tossed her dark hair magnificently, like a Herbal Essences advert. ‘I’ll know when I do.’
‘Course you will,’ Rohan almost sneered.
Extraordinary. What was wrong with Rohan?
‘So,’ said Izzy. ‘Salad?’
‘So back to Dominic,’ Emma said.
‘I think for Ruby’s sake that I should try to spend some time with him if he wants to, so that we can at the very least be friends.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Rohan said. ‘You have to put Ruby first.’
‘You don’t have to spend time together to put Ruby first.’ Emma put a cherry tomato into her mouth. ‘The sad fact is that you are separated. So you would expect to make your own lives and, yes, co-parent, but mainly separately. It would be normal, and nice, for you both to be there at birthdays and school events and so on, but it isn’t normal for separated people to spend weekends together, is it?’
‘That is true.’ Izzy took some asparagus and ham. ‘But for Ruby’s sake, even though we’re separated, it would be nice for us all to be able to spend time together more often than birthdays. I don’t want to end up like my parents.’
‘Yep, fair enough, I can see that.’ Emma nodded. ‘Remember your wedding.’
‘Yes.’ On Izzy and Dominic’s wedding day, Dominic’s happily married parents had been the perfect parents-of-the-groom all day, while Izzy’s parents had managed one family photo together before Izzy’s mother told her father that he should be ashamed of himself for knocking up someone younger than his own daughter, and he’d yelled ‘Stupid bloody woman,’ at her, and her mother’s wife had chucked a glass of champagne at his crotch and then doubled up laughing. The groom and a lot of the other guests had not laughed. ‘I still wonder why she went for his crotch and not his head or chest.’
‘I know.’ Emma gave a snort of laughter. ‘But there’s a happy medium between going down the, frankly, weird, “We’re still best friends”
route, and your parents’ route. Surely you can be civil and always be there for birthdays and sports days and things without having to meet Dominic at other times. Unless you want to.’
‘I think maybe I do want to.’
‘Okay. That’s great, if it’s actually right for you,’ Emma said. ‘It won’t be right for Ruby anyway if it isn’t right for you. Not to repeat myself or nag or anything.’
‘Thank you for caring.’ Izzy smiled at Emma.
‘How’s it going with Barney and the speech therapy?’ Emma asked.
‘Yep, great. He’s lovely and the coping strategies are already making a difference, I think.’
‘You haven’t said much about Sam.’ Emma took a quiche, plates and a knife out of the picnic basket and did a really bad job of trying to look as though she was interested in the food below her while in fact staring gimlet-eyed at Izzy through her hair, obviously keen to get every detail there could possibly be about Sam. This was a ludicrous amount of interrogation for one picnic. Izzy really hoped that Dominic and Ruby would arrive soon, to stop the inquisition.
‘Nothing to say, really. Do you like my new plates?’ Izzy handed one each to the others. ‘They’re very seventies throwback aren’t they. I think that I really like them. Or maybe they’re just spectacularly tasteless.’
‘I like them,’ Emma said. ‘So have you spoken to Sam much? Is he married again?’ Bloody hell. Dog with a bone.
This was uncomfortable. Emma’s questions were mirroring Izzy’s own thoughts. Sam popped into her head far too much.
‘I don’t think he’s married again.’ Why had she not just said that he wasn’t married? She knew he wasn’t. Why didn’t she want to mention their email chats? ‘I’ve only really spoken to him to arrange Barney’s sessions.’ And there she went, not telling the whole truth again. But why? He was just a friend and nothing would ever happen between them. They lived on opposite sides of the Atlantic. She was Barney’s speech therapist. It would be rubbish for Ruby. And Sam probably wouldn’t be interested in her in that way anyway. If she was going to start a relationship with anyone, it should be with Dominic.
