The Perfect Fit

by Mary Jayne Baker

  She grinned. ‘He did tell you.’

  ‘Yep. Congratulations, love. You’re going to be amazing.’

  She threw herself at me for a hug. ‘God, I’ve got no idea what I’m doing. I was planning on following Stew’s lead.’

  ‘Ha! You’ll be following each other round in circles.’ I patted her back. ‘Well, don’t worry. Show me a parent who claims they’re not making it up as they go and I’ll show you a big fat liar.’

  ‘So do you girls want to go see Santa? Becks needs to tell him what she wants for Christmas.’ Stew smiled at his wife. ‘We already got our present.’

  ‘Yeah, go on,’ I said. ‘I’m dying to see Gerry in his suit.’

  ‘No Cole?’ Lana asked as we queued up behind the excited kids and slightly less excited parents waiting to see Santa.

  ‘No, he’s working.’

  ‘How did his big exhibition go?’

  I frowned. ‘Dunno really. He’s been very quiet since he got back.’

  In fact, I’d barely seen him. He’d taken to locking himself in the attic until all hours again, which usually meant that whatever he was working on was all-absorbing.

  ‘Not as well-attended as he’d hoped?’ Stew said.

  ‘Well, he said it went ok, but he doesn’t seem keen to talk about it. Hope there’s nothing wrong.’

  Gerry’s grotto was a simple affair, a sort of den made of white bedsheets, fairy lights and tinsel, with the sullen-looking elf, his green velvet suit rather clashing with his acne, taking money at the door. And yet, basic as it was, to the kids it was magical. It worked like some sort of kiddy happiness factory, children entering through the slit in the bedsheets at one side, gripping a parent’s hand nervously, then emerging beaming from the other side five minutes later with a gift-wrapped parcel clutched in their fist.

  Eventually we reached the front of the queue.

  ‘50p per kid,’ Noah the Elf muttered, voice cracking with sulk and puberty.

  ‘We haven’t got a kid. We’ve come to tell your boss what we want for Christmas.’ Stew pressed £1.50 into the lad’s unresisting hand. ‘We’ll show ourselves in.’

  ‘Ho ho – oh, it’s you lot,’ Gerry said, glancing up. ‘In that case, ho ho bugger off.’

  Lana grinned. ‘Come on, Santa. That’s no way to talk to good boys and girls, is it?’

  Rudolph, dozing next to the sack of presents, pricked up his ears. He bounced up and headbutted Lana in the leg with his antlers.

  I sat down in the little chair next to Gerry’s and crossed myself. ‘Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been eleven months since my last Christmas.’

  Stewart plonked himself down on Gerry’s knee.

  ‘All right, Gerry, how long do I have to stay here for a train set?’

  ‘Oof. Geroff, you big daft lump,’ Gerry said, pushing him away. ‘You aren’t worth the price of a lapdance.’

  Lana gave Stew’s arm a sympathetic pat as he went back to join her. ‘I think you are.’

  ‘Thanks, wife. I’ll give you a private performance later.’

  ‘So have you kids just come to take the piss then?’ Gerry demanded. ‘Because if you want to make yourselves useful, I could murder a beer. Thirsty work, Santaing.’

  ‘Santas don’t drink beer. Just sherry,’ I said. ‘And no, we didn’t just come to take the piss.’

  ‘We mainly did,’ Lana said.

  ‘All right, we mainly did,’ I agreed. ‘But we’ve got a message for you from Deano as well.’

  ‘He’s not on about my tits again, is he?’

  ‘Jeez, Gerry, get over yourself,’ Stew said, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s not all about your tits, you know. You aren’t that sexy.’

  ‘Not what my missus says.’

  Lana curled her lip. ‘Can you and Sue please stop talking about your manky sex life in front of me?’

  Gerry grinned. ‘All right, since I’m in uniform. Go on, what’s the message?’

  ‘Deano’s managed to arrange some press for our last dress rehearsal, sort of an advance screening,’ I told him. ‘Get us some reviews ahead of opening night.’

  ‘Keighley News, is it?’

  ‘Not just them. The county papers too.’

  ‘What, the Yorkshire Post are sending someone out just to write up a village panto?’ Gerry said. Then realisation dawned. ‘Ah, right. Brady.’

  Stew nodded. ‘We’ll never be short of attention with Harper involved.’

  ‘So best foot forward, Grizzly,’ I said to Gerry, slapping him on the back. ‘Because from the state of Deano’s eye when he told us, I’m thinking it could be painful.’

  Chapter 38

  The day dawned the same as any other. I was running around like a chicken on speed, late for work as usual. Cole was hiding out in the attic, also as usual.

  ‘Cole!’ I yelled up the stairs. ‘If you’re not going out today, can I borrow your mobile? I can’t find mine and I need to let our Cam know I can pick Pip up from Beavers tonight.’

  There was no answer.

  ‘Cole?’ I called again.

  ‘Yes, darling. Whatever you like,’ a distracted voice sailed down.

  ‘Thanks.’ I snatched the neglected smartphone from the dresser and stuck it in my jeans pocket. ‘I’ll ring the landline if I need you.’

  It sat in my back pocket for most of the day, silent as the grave. I’d actually forgotten I had it until the ringtone went off at full volume in Fancypants that afternoon, making me jump.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said to the customer I was helping, a woman hiring a school assembly costume for her son. ‘The Gruffaloes are on the kiddies’ rail by the changing rooms.’

  When she’d gone to browse, I nipped into the back room to answer the call.

  ‘Hi Ryder.’

  ‘Oh. Becky. Is Cole not around?’

  ‘No, I borrowed his phone for the day. Can I get him to ring you back this evening?’

  ‘Unless you can help me?’ Ryder said. ‘I was calling for his decision. The patrons are pushing so I need to know ASAP.’

  ‘Patrons?’

  ‘Rather a coup for you, old girl, eh? I expect soon you’ll have the sort of life you must have dreamed of back in the old family chip shop.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Oh bugger, I haven’t offended you again, have I?’ he groaned. ‘You really shouldn’t be so sensitive. Honestly, I wasn’t suggesting you were only with him because you knew he’d make money one day.’

  ‘Ryder. Stop.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I have literally no idea what you’re on about. What patrons?’

  ‘Mine, of course.’ He sounded amused. ‘You mean Cole didn’t tell you?’

  ‘Clearly not.’

  ‘I’ve wangled him a job, darling. Artist in residence at the gallery, his own permanent exhibition space – it’s the chance of a lifetime. The patrons got a raging hard-on for his stuff at the last exhibition. I would have thought he’d have bitten my hand off, but he said he wanted to talk it through with you first.’ He laughed. ‘As if you were going to object.’

  ‘Artist in residence! You mean in London?’

  ‘Well of course in London, where else? You can hardly expect a talent like Cole to waste his fragrance on the desert air in the wilds of Yorkshire forever.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘I told you, the exhibition. They spoke to me and I was able to make him the offer on the spot.’

  The exhibition. The exhibition… had been over three weeks ago. And Cole had never breathed a word.

  ‘I need to talk to Cole,’ I said. ‘He’ll call you, Ryder.’

  I managed to struggle through the rest of the afternoon, but my mind was all over the place. Ryder’s words ricocheted around my head: the chance of a lifetime…

  Cole�
�s dream job, the opportunity to paint full-time, everything he’d always wanted. But what did it mean for us? And the biggest question – why the hell hadn’t he told me?

  And what would I have said if he had? What would I say, later today, when we had the conversation I knew we needed to have? This was Cole’s dream. If I stood in the way, I’d hate myself.

  But if he took it…

  No. Even with a decent cashflow, even with a house big enough for a family, I couldn’t go back to London. I’d left my home once before, when I’d been young and the city had seemed full of bright lights and wonders. I couldn’t do it again. My parents were here. Cam, Tom, Pip. Lana, Stew, Marcus… even Deano. I hadn’t realised, until I started thinking about it, how painful it would be to leave Egglethwaite now I was a part of the place.

  But the alternative… the alternative was losing Cole.

  Maybe there was a way out of it. Maybe I didn’t need to choose. Cole could commute into town when he was needed at the gallery, and… well, somehow we’d work round it.

  But the harder I clutched, the more the straws seemed to slide out of my grip.

  I was supposed to be picking Pip up from Beavers, but after ringing round I managed to arrange for Cynthia to do it, mumbling some excuse. As soon as I closed the shop, I rushed home.

  Cole was sitting in his studio, staring at a painting he’d been working on: a local landscape, sheep-starred and arteried with our shambling drystone walls.

  ‘Oh. Hullo, darling,’ he said absently when he heard me come in. ‘What do you think? It still needs work, of course.’

  ‘It’s brilliant. One of your best.’

  ‘Yes. You know, I think it might be.’

  ‘Cole, we need to talk.’

  He turned to look at me. ‘You heard then.’

  ‘How did you know?’

  He smiled. ‘I’ve been with you for four years, Becky. I can tell when there’s something wrong.’ His expression was strange. Dreamy, wistful. Sad.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me, love?’

  ‘I meant to. I tried to.’

  ‘And yet you didn’t.’

  ‘Here.’ He drew a spare stool opposite his. I sat down, and he took my hands in his. ‘Now let’s pretend the Honesty Card’s right there on the table, shall we?’

  ‘Ok.’

  ‘Becky, I love you. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ I squeezed his hands tightly, fearing what might come next. ‘Why are you telling me now?’

  ‘Because I want to hear you say it back.’

  ‘I love you, Cole. You know I do.’

  ‘Yes.’ He sighed. ‘Yes, I know.’

  ‘So are you going to take it? Ryder said it was the chance of a lifetime.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He dropped my hands and went to stand under the skylight, looking up at the star-flecked sky. ‘If I did, would you be coming with me?’

  ‘Would you really have to move to London?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘I… Cole, you know I –’

  He held up a hand. ‘It’s ok. I knew you’d have to stay. This place – it’s a part of you, I understand that.’

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘And you have to go.’

  ‘Maybe I don’t. I haven’t decided to take it yet.’

  ‘But it’s your dream, Cole.’

  ‘One of them.’ He came and rested his hands gently on my shoulders. ‘The only other dream I ever had was you, Becky. And before I choose one over the other, I think I’d like to get a few things out in the open.’

  ‘Oh, love…’ I reached up to squeeze his hand, blinking on a tear.

  ‘Becky, you’ve asked me more than once recently if I wanted to be a father. And each time I said I wanted you to be happy.’

  ‘Yes.’

  He took his seat again, earnest blue eyes searching my face. ‘And I do, darling, I really do. I honestly believed when we came here that it would all work out, eventually. That spending time with your niece would help me find the parental instinct I was sure I must have.’

  ‘But it didn’t.’

  He looked down at his hands. ‘I’ve never believed I was a cruel or an uncaring man. But children, to me, they just seem…’

  ‘You don’t like them?’

  He met my eyes. ‘You want to know the truth?’

  ‘I think I need to.’

  ‘Well then, the fact is… they bore me. There. I said it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Children. I just can’t think on their wavelength. I don’t like being around them because… because I find them tedious. Their conversation, their company, their games. And the more time I spend with them, the more irritating it becomes.’

  ‘So you… that means you’d never…’

  ‘I did want to make you happy.’ He sighed. ‘But on reflection, I really feel I’m one of those men who isn’t cut out for fatherhood.’

  I stared at him in disbelief. ‘And you tell me now?’

  ‘I didn’t know before. When we moved here I had some doubts, but I thought… I mean, you wanted it so badly, I believed things would just naturally fall into place.’

  ‘For years we’ve talked about this, Cole! You told me…’ I gave in and let the tears I’d been holding in flow freely. ‘You said it was what you wanted,’ I whispered.

  ‘I thought it was. It’s what we’re all told we’re supposed to want, isn’t it? I didn’t realise how much my brain would revolt when confronted with the reality of the thing.’ He leaned forward and took my hands again. ‘So I suppose what I’m asking is, is it absolutely a dealbreaker for you? Do you want a child more than you want this – us?’

  ‘I… Jesus. That’s a hell of a question to spring on me, Cole.’

  ‘Don’t pretend you haven’t been thinking about it.’

  I was silent a moment. I thought about Pip and Cameron and Tom. About Lana and Stew, and the little boy, Jay, who was about to become theirs. About my dad and Cynthia, and the loving, joyful home I’d grown up in. Here in Egglethwaite, the place I’d always known I wanted my own children to call home.

  ‘Yes,’ I whispered. ‘Yes, it… Cole, I’m sorry. I think, for me… it has to be a dealbreaker.’

  ‘You want a family more than you want to be with me?’

  ‘I want – I did want both. But if you’re telling me I can only have one or the other…’ I bit my lip. ‘Cole, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but I guess I just am that kind of person. I want to be a mum.’

  ‘I know. I love you for it. I just wish I could be the person you need me to be.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘But even then, I don’t know if it would work.’

  ‘Why?’ I whispered, not bothering to check the tears dripping down my cheeks and into the turpentine-stained boards of the floor.

  ‘Honesty Card still on the table?’

  ‘We’re breaking up, aren’t we? It might as well be.’

  He walked over to one of his paintings and started examining the canvas, presumably so he didn’t have to look at my tear-stricken face. I could see he was fighting a battle not to break down himself.

  ‘Becky, do you know what I’ve been doing the evenings you’ve been at pantomime rehearsals?’ he asked after a minute. His voice was trembling.

  ‘Painting?’

  ‘No. I’ve been watching your actor friend’s television show.’

  ‘The Brady Bunch? Why?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a fascinating study,’ he said, turning to face me again. ‘The little dog’s rather a character. And your director – Deano, is it? But it was you and Marcus I noticed particularly. The way you laugh together. The childish games you play.’

  ‘I told you, Cole, we’re friends. That’s what friends do. I mean, not your friends. But it’s what my friends do.’


  ‘Perhaps. But when you’re with him, it’s like you’re another person to the one I know. I might have liked to know her, but… but you never are that person with me.’ He pulled his gaze from the floor to meet my eyes. ‘How long is it since we last made love, Becky?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You and me. How long?’

  ‘God, I don’t know… a couple of months?’

  ‘Four. It’s four months.’

  I flushed. ‘Well, I’ve been tired. With the panto and everything. You said it was ok.’

  ‘But I’ve been thinking about it more lately. What it means – your body language with him, our sex life, the way you obviously missed him when you stopped going to his house for script meetings. And I finally got it all worked out.’

  I shook my head. ‘You’re not saying you’ve been locked up here soul-searching because you think I fancy Marcus Teasdale more than you?’

  ‘No. Not because you fancy him.’ He turned away, and I finally saw the flash of the tear he’d been holding back. ‘Because you’ve fallen in love with him.’

  Chapter 39

  ‘So Cole’s moved out,’ Cynthia said as we drank tea together the following week.

  ‘Ugh. You and your bloody lemons.’ I plucked the offending wedge off the saucer and put it on the table. ‘Yes. He’s staying with his friend Patrick while he works out his notice.’

  ‘What happened, Becky? Did you have a row?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ I squeezed back a tear. ‘He had to make a choice. His dream job in London or me, here.’

  ‘And he chose the job.’

  ‘I chose for him. When he told me he’d changed his mind about having kids, I knew we couldn’t have a future together.’ The tear escaped and dripped into my teacup. ‘I miss him, Cyn.’

  ‘He said that? After three years you’ve been planning a family?’ She shook her head. ‘Your father and I always felt he wasn’t the one for you.’

  ‘It wasn’t his fault. I honestly don’t think he knew himself until recently.’ I wiped my eyes to bring her back into focus. ‘Cyn?’

  ‘Yes, honey?’

  I gazed down at the hands twisting in my lap. My finger felt weird without my engagement ring. ‘That wasn’t the only thing. He said… there was something else. I wanted to talk to you about it.’