‘A gentleman also said something before,’ I say. ‘Could you translate it for me? He said I’ve “got cake”.’
She giggles uncontrollably. ‘It means you’ve got a good arse. You have booty.’
‘Oh! I thought he was asking me for drugs. I apologised.’
She starts to howl. ‘You’ve got a good rack too.’
I blush at the observation. ‘We’ll thank Joe for that.’
‘I guess without Joe, you and I wouldn’t have met either, eh?’
So very true. We’ll thank Joe for everything. She sits next to me and pops her head on my shoulder as we allow the noise around us to melt away. Without Joe, where would I be? I’d be out the front enjoying this gig, paying for the privilege. And for a moment, I think about Joe’s tiny wonderful face, this little mash-up of myself and Will, a backstage pass to another life. And even though the next chapter is uncertain and this T-shirt is bloody ridiculous, I have cake, I have a Joe. And that is everything.
Track Twenty-One
‘Learn to Fly’ – Foo Fighters (1999)
I am sitting in a pub in Kingston, staring at a blackboard notice telling me it’s ten more days until Christmas. Why do they do this to us now? When you were little, it was exciting – the thrill that Santa was fattening up his reindeer; the worry if you had been good enough to get what you wished for; the looking forward to Christmas movies. Now, it’s like a sand timer counting down what remains of the year, reminding you of everything you haven’t done. You’d better lose some weight, write some cards, get on Amazon to buy everything and pray a DPD man doesn’t leave it outside the wrong door. Behind the bar, Mariah Carey sings at me. I don’t think that all she wants for Christmas is me but I appreciate the sentiment and those banger high notes at the end. I remember Will sang that song at karaoke once. It was a summer in Brighton and he thought he was being ironic. Oh, Will. How on earth is it Christmas and we’re still in limbo? This is going to be Joe’s first Christmas. Surely the dream is us buying him his first bike (or whatever you give a baby for its first Christmas) and sitting in matching pyjamas in front of a log fire. Isn’t that what Christmas should be?
‘They’re out of Corona so I bought you a Bud,’ says Sean. I nod and watch as he mouths the words to the next Christmas song that comes up on the playlist. He knows all the words to Cliff Richard? You think you know a person. I’m here tonight, in this pub in Kingston, gatecrashing the school Christmas knees-up. It’s supposed to be a way for me to reconnect with everyone. There’s a set menu dinner later (soup, dry turkey dinner, woeful slice of Christmas pudding) and a Secret Santa too. I’ve just got mine. It twists the knife in my heartbroken back a little more, but it’s a pocket book of how to say ‘I love you’ in different languages and a Toblerone. I won’t lie, I think this book has been regifted because there’s an inscription in the front to Keith. Happy Birthday Keith, love D. This means Keith from modern foreign languages (he flits between French and Spanish) has palmed me off with a gift his wife gave him once. That’s not good, Keith. Poor D. I thought a repurposed gift card was bad. But the Toblerone helps.
Christmas is always the time that the faculty let loose and you see personality start to shine through. Nick from maths will don a comedy antler and Jonathan, who works the science labs, will be the first to drag the staff from the office onto the dance floor.
‘Oh my God. Hi!’
Connie from the PE department (previously known as Beyoncé) comes to sit next to me on our bench. She looks stunning in a red bodycon dress and holly earrings. How does she get her legs so smooth? Why isn’t she wearing tights? The joy of winter is not having to upkeep legs, no?
‘I just wanted to say thank you for inviting me to your birthday party. It was so much fun. Actually I met someone there who gave me his number. He was dressed as Boba Fett?’
As soon as she says that, my nostrils flare. Yasmin’s Boba Fett. Harry was dressed as Boba Fett. My silence is slightly too prolonged while I process it all. ‘Just someone my sister works with. He’s married,’ I finally reply.
‘Oh,’ she says, both shocked and disappointed.
‘I’d avoid him like the plague. Man whore, riddled, complete dick.’ She senses I’m trying a little too hard to throw her off his scent. ‘Just you deserve better than him.’
‘Thank you,’ she says, surprised at the compliment.
I look over her shoulder to see Sean approaching.
‘Sean is single…’ I say.
‘I did debate that. He’s funny and all but his mum still packs him Fruit Winders in his lunchbox,’ she mumbles to me.
‘But if you can get past that… He’s pretty cool?’
She’s not sure how to respond as he’s currently wearing an actual elf hat with ears and a bell.
He approaches the table. ‘Ladies…’
‘I’m just going to chat to the drama lot,’ Connie says, standing up to leave and Sean takes her seat.
‘Something I said?’ he gestures.
‘I was trying to matchmake you.’
‘And obviously underselling the assets.’
The hat flattens out his fringe so he looks like he has a bowl haircut underneath. I’m not sure how I’d sell that asset. Sean has been busy organising everyone’s drinks, sorting the gin from the dark ales.
‘Soooo…’ I say.
‘Grace is back. I saw that on Facebook. Don’t think your mum took enough photos,’ he says.
‘Two days ago. It’s everything. She looks amazing.’
‘Tell her I said hello.’
‘I will.’
‘And what about Alicia?’ I ask. We’ve spoken briefly about that whole ordeal at my party. I mainly told him off for going at it with the head teacher on my sister’s bed but I never got all the details. Like how did you woo her in that burger costume? Did you ladder your tights? He swings his head around to check she’s not in the vicinity.
‘Yeah. File under anecdotes to tell in the pub one day.’
‘Good. I won’t tell you who to date but I don’t think you two are meant to be.’
He nods in agreement. ‘She’s a proper wild one though. She wanted me to call her names and stuff.’
‘Like?’ I whisper.
‘You don’t want to know. The burger costume added layers to the conversation. A lot of talk about meat and special sauce.’
‘Ewwwww!’ I cup my hands over my ears but can still see Alicia standing at the bar. She always comes straight from work so she’s in her usual shift dress and sensible heels. It’s always the quiet ones.
‘That was quite a party though, eh?’ Sean adds.
I nod. I’ve almost blocked it out of mind given it was the event that triggered Will’s leaving. I haven’t told Sean anything either. In fact, I’ve purposely kept all of it pretty quiet from him and from social media.
‘Also, I have news. It’s been coming and I should have told you, but I’m off soon,’ he tells me.
‘Off?’
‘This was before your party, but Alicia entered me into some exchange programme with a school in Toronto. I’ll be there for six months.’
‘Sean! That’s pretty epic, mate. From when?’
‘After Christmas.’
I’m still grinning from cheek to cheek at such an exciting opportunity for him, but I’ll admit, knowing that he won’t be there when I return to Griffin Road makes my heart twinge.
‘Please tell me you’re not taking your mum with you,’ I joke.
‘She’s currently teaching me how to iron. It’s painful.’
‘It’s good. You need this.’
‘I know. I think you having a baby made me re-think what I should be doing with my life too. Live a little, eh?’
I lean over and hug him. God, I’ll miss him. Who will make my crap coffee now and help me joke about the art department shouting at us for stealing all their pencils? He’s my work husband. This now feels like some temporary separation of sorts and I immediately think of the other separation in my life.
Of Will. With Sean and Will gone, Joe will be the only man in my life.
‘So, you, me and Will need to go out. My mum’s doing a farewell dinner first week of January.’
I nod, reluctantly.
‘Or not?’ he replies, reading my face.
I take a deep breath. ‘Will’s not living with me at the moment. He moved out.’
He widens his eyes at me, speechless, and gestures we go outside for a bit. We head for the heated patio area, clutching our drinks. Christmas fairy lights sparkle in the fruity thick mist left by a trio of vapers. We head for some railings overlooking the Thames, both of us probably wondering in this moment why we ever gave up smoking.
‘Beth? What happened? You didn’t say anything…’ he says, slightly hurt.
I shrug my shoulders. ‘It’s just been a shit time. Not stuff you want to share with people.’
‘But I’m Sean. Not people. Has he gone for good?’
‘He’s with his brother. He was stressed and overwhelmed is the official line, but he kissed someone else on a night out. It’s just all a giant shitstorm. It’s been a while now – since my party…’
He pauses, working out how long that’s been, then comes over and gives me a hug.
‘Oh, mate. You really should have said something.’
‘Yeah, sure… Come over, let’s get a takeaway and talk about how my life’s falling apart?’
‘You idiot.’
I don’t cry because I’m not sure what’s left to talk about when it comes to Will. He’s still not here. He’s missing out on the important moments with Joe when he smiles or cuts a tooth or babbles away at me in the bath, but then he’s also missing out on the nappy rash, the early morning feeds and the intense exhaustion. I’m resentful that he’s having a break, that he’s abandoned us when we need him most, but I also ache with how much I miss him.
‘So much has changed, Sean. Good stuff, like Joe. But I don’t even recognise myself these days…’
‘How?’
‘I used to be fun. Now fun feels tiring. I was fun, right?’
‘You’re still fun,’ he says, a little unconvincingly. ‘You have that rapper girl in your life? She’s cool.’
‘The unlikeliest friendship in the world. But in reality, everything’s a reminder of how different I look and feel.’
‘You look great, shut up.’
It’s a sweet compliment but the three times he’s seen me now have been the only times in the last year where I’ve been forced to brush and wash my hair.
‘I feel bad going to Canada now.’
‘Why?’
‘You need me.’
‘I’ll survive.’
‘What if Canadian teachers are weird, don’t drink in their lunch hours or understand my humour?’
‘Then you can FaceTime me from your staff room. Make sure you send me Canadian stuff, won’t you?’
‘Like a moose?’
‘Yep, one of them.’
A biting breeze swoops across the river, picking up plumes of foam and I stand that bit closer to Sean, clinking bottles. It’s too bloody cold to be out here, even with my very classy parka over my maxi dress, but I’m glad for the chance to chat. To chat to a friend.
‘I’m really going to miss you,’ Sean says.
He puts a hand over mine on the railings. We’re close; maybe too close. And for a moment, something overtakes my good sense. We can blame Christmas, the arctic outdoor setting or the fact that someone of the opposite sex has expressed an outpouring of emotion to me, to my sad lonely face. But there’s something that draws us together and suddenly we’re kissing, on the lips. His lips melt into mine and part slightly. Shit. I am snogging Sean. Then he backs away.
‘Woah there, sailor,’ I say, shocked, wide-eyed. We don’t do that. That’s not what we do. I don’t know how to react. I shouldn’t have done it and I know why I did it. Revenge snog? Tit for tat? He was there, he said something nice.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, snapping out of the moment.
‘That was…’
‘Nice but you’re Beth. It’s like kissing…’
‘A cousin?’
‘I was thinking more a sister.’ His body shudders and we both erupt into laughter. ‘You’re confused about Will. Figure that all out. I’d kiss you any day of the week if you weren’t Beth. I love you to bits, you know that, right?’
And I get it completely. I love him too. I’d show up for him. I’d defend him, visit him in hospital, write him the best character reference ever, but even in this semi-romantic setting with The Pogues on in the background and the fairy lights on high twinkle, I don’t love him. Not like that.
‘You’re getting emosh on me now,’ I say.
‘I’m leaving, I’m allowed. Few more drinks and I’ll love everyone in there.’
‘I feel really special now.’
He brings me in for a hug and kisses me on the forehead. You’re not supposed to do that either, that’s Will’s move.
‘I hope things work out with Will. I really do,’ he says, holding me back and looking into my eyes. ‘You and Joe deserve the world.’
I never know what people mean when they say that. It sounds greedy, like I deserve it all. Every pound, penny, mansion, holiday, comfort; everything your heart desires and needs. But in reality my world is so small, and yet it is all I need. My world is Joe. It’s someone else who isn’t here who I love. More than all the world. That would be everything.
‘I deserve another beer,’ I say instead.
‘Smooth, but not very subtle. Such a cheapskate.’
‘And just like that, we’ve found the wording for your Tinder profile.’
He laughs, the sound echoing in that empty patio area, his breath fogging the air as he heads back to the bar.
I make my escape after dessert that evening, to get back to Joe at Mum and Dad’s. I left Sean in a circle dancing with the ‘technology lads’ – all of their shirts untucked, the movements ungainly and jumpy even though they were dancing to ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’. Sean hugged me deeply as I left. I hope I see you again before you go, I wanted to say. I hope you make it home safely and don’t shag Alicia again.
‘You’re early?’ a familiar face says as she opens the door. Grace. She’s been back from her epic travels for two days now, with the two sweetest little girls you could ever wish to meet – an expansion to our family that fills us all with joy. I enter the house and embrace her closely. It’s all I’ve done since I’ve seen her. That and beam like the frigging sun. My Gracie is back. I missed the feel of her, the sound of her voice. And so every time I’m near, I launch my body at her, demanding she be as close to me as possible. At the moment, she’s camped out at Mum and Dad’s doing something called cocooning which involves keeping her lovely girls close and introducing all of us Callaghans slowly but surely so as not to overwhelm them.
‘Did I wake you?’ I whisper.
‘I don’t keep time anymore. I really hope those are cheesy chips in your hand.’ She stands there in jersey pyjamas and a duvet worn around her shoulders like a cape. The look is worn and sleepy but I know it well: it’s the look of first-time motherhood. I open up the polystyrene container and see her eyes light up at the smell of melted cheese and deep-fried potato goodness.
As predicted, the portions at the Christmas party tonight were small and flooded with gravy and limp vegetables. Chips will save the day. She ushers me in to keep the winter air flooding through the front door, grabbing at my crispy chips and leading us through into the front room. I enter to see both of her daughters asleep on the sofa, limbs intertwined, the glare of cartoons filling the room.
‘Don’t mind us. It seems they only can sleep to the sounds of Sesame Street,’ she mumbles, turning down the volume on the television.
‘Is Joe OK?’
‘Asleep upstairs, snug as a bug.’
I sigh with relief and take a seat on an armchair, kicking off my ankle boots, watching as Grace nestle
s in with her daughters. I rest the chips on the arm of the sofa so she can help herself.
‘How was it?’ she asks.
‘Standard. And a bit weird. Me and Sean had a kiss.’
Grace’s eyes open widely. ‘Your mate, Sean? The one with the ears?’
‘All my friends have ears.’
‘His are a little like trophy handles though. Tongues?’
‘No.’ I try and shrug off the memory.
‘You don’t fancy Sean, do you?’ she says, grimacing.
‘He’s alright, Sean. But no, I don’t fancy him. And I know why it happened.’
‘To get back at Will?’ Grace says it calmly, not with the anger and judgement that would have radiated off Emma and Lucy. And what she says is true. I was desperate for the affection. It was a reaction. Maybe I needed to know what kissing someone else felt like too.
‘Heck, that’s what good friends are for, to snog in stressful situations,’ she says.
‘You have a friend you snog in stressful situations? Actually, Lucy tells me you did a lot on your travels that you need to tell us about.’
‘Lucy got me very drunk in Amsterdam and I divulged far too much. I snogged a friend in New York on my travels. I went to a rave. I wore a fishnet jumpsuit thing.’
I laugh a little too loudly and she gives me evils. Grace usually only wears monochrome but there’s a flash of colour now, a yellow bracelet on her hand, and a smile she’s not worn for the longest time.
‘Was he a good kisser?’ she asks.
‘Bit fishy?’
‘What? His breath?’
I snigger. ‘No, the lip action. It didn’t last long.’
She shrugs. By that measure, it’s basically a non-event then and she’s right. Cleo wriggles in her sleep and comes to rest her head on Grace’s lap. I watch as my sister strokes her head to settle her down again.
‘Sean also looks like the sort of man who wears bad shorts in summer. Am I right?’
‘Cargo, knee-length. Sometimes the ones with the zips so he can add some length if the weather gets cooler.’
‘If you married that, I’d voice my objections at your wedding, just so you know.’
Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?: An absolutely laugh-out-loud and feel-good page-turner Page 25
