by Lynne Shelby
Nick said, ‘No … Well, yes … I’d like that too, but … Oh, well, if they’re going to be there … No. No, that’s not too soon … Yes, we’ll see you then.’ He ended the call.
‘Nick,’ I said, ‘What have you just agreed to do for your mother?’
And why didn’t you check with me first?
‘Matt and Georgina and the boys are going to Mum and Dad’s for Sunday lunch. I’ve said we’ll join them, that’s all.’
‘So what happened to us spending the day together, just the two of us? One phone call from your mother and we’re rushing off to eat lunch with your entire family.’
‘Aw, don’t be like that, Anna. I’ve not seen the boys in weeks. I don’t want them to forget they have an uncle. It’s a good opportunity for us all to be together.’
I felt bad when Nick said that, because I knew he was very fond of his elder brother’s five-year-old twins (who were, I had to admit, adorable).
‘You’re right,’ I said. ‘I’m being selfish. It’s important that you spend time with your nephews.’ Even if it meant that I had to spend time with his mother – who had known me for over a year, and still expected me to call her Mrs Cooper. I pushed back the duvet. ‘So when is your mum expecting us?’
‘I said we’d be there in an hour.’ Nick’s gaze strayed to my breasts. ‘There’s time for us to have sex. If you still want to.’
So much for passion. Maybe I should start throwing the odd bit of china. Starting with Mrs Cooper’s dinner service.
‘Oh, why not?’ I said.
Five
Mrs Cooper said, ‘You’ll never guess who I ran into yesterday, Nicholas.’
‘You’d better tell me, then,’ Nick said.
‘Melissa.’
‘Really?’ Nick said. ‘I haven’t seen her in years. I thought she relocated to New York.’
‘She did,’ Mrs Cooper said. ‘But she’s back in England now.’
‘Who’s Melissa?’ Matt said.
‘Surely you remember Melissa,’ Mrs Cooper said. ‘Melissa Harrington.’
‘Oh, you mean Nick’s ex,’ Matt said.
‘Such a delightful girl,’ Mrs Cooper said. She looked directly at me. ‘There was a time when I hoped that Nicholas and Melissa would marry. Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.’ She sighed. ‘I was very fond of Melissa.’
Unbelievable.I glanced round the dining table. Nick and Matt were systematically working their way through the port and the stilton. Matt’s wife, Georgina, was languidly sipping her coffee. Mr Cooper was leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his ample stomach, an expression of benign contentment on his face. I wondered if I was the only one who thought what Nick’s mother had just said was plain bad manners.
Mrs Cooper continued. ‘It’s so hard to keep in touch with people who live in another country.’
‘Not always,’ I said. ‘Alexandre, my French penfriend, has recently come to London and is staying with me for a few weeks. Alex and I have been writing to each other since we were eleven years old.’
‘How charming,’ Mrs Cooper said. ‘Though it must be frightfully difficult having another person living in your tiny little flat. What with your having only one bathroom.’
I thought of how hard I’d worked so I could afford to buy my little flat, and how much I loved it. In my lap, under the cover of the snowy white tablecloth, my hands clenched so hard that my nails dug into my palms.
Don’t say anything to her. Just don’t say anything.
From outside the house came the shouts and laughter of the twins, who’d been released from the torments of Mrs Cooper’s lunch table before the rest of us, and were playing in the garden.
Mrs Cooper said, ‘Have you put Charlie and Joshua’s names down for Gade Court yet, Matthew?’
‘No, not yet,’ Matt said.
‘Well you should do it as soon as possible. There’s no guarantee that they’ll get places just because you and Nicholas are former pupils.’
‘We may not be sending them to Gade Court,’ Georgina put in.
‘Why ever not?’ Mrs Cooper asked. ‘It’s an excellent school.’
‘I’m sure it is.’ Georgina’ said, ‘but it may not be right for Josh and Charlie.’
Mrs Cooper pursed her mouth. ‘Well, you must do what you think best …’
‘Nothing’s been decided,’ Matt said.
Georgina drained her coffee cup. ‘Talking of my sons, they’ve suddenly gone very quiet, which usually means they’re up to something. I should go and check on them. Come with me, Anna? I want to hear all about this penfriend of yours.’ She pushed back her chair and stood up.
‘Sure.’ The afternoon was too grey and overcast to make the Coopers’ back garden an enticing prospect, but I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to get away from Nick’s mother.
‘I’ll come out and give the boys a game of football once I’ve finished my port,’ Nick said.
I hurried after Georgina, who was already striding from the room. Snatching my coat off the peg in the hall, I followed her through the house and out onto the patio. Josh and Charlie were chasing other around the apple trees at the far end of the garden. They waved to Georgina and me, and we waved back.
‘They don’t seem to be doing anything too terrible,’ I said.
‘I didn’t think they were,’ Georgina said. ‘But I needed a break from Mrs C and I thought you could probably do with one too.’
I gaped at her.
‘If I have to listen to any more of her snide remarks about the way I’m bringing up my own children, I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions. I put up with her for Matt’s sake, but – Why are you staring at me?’
I said, ‘I’d no idea that you felt that way about Mrs Cooper.’
‘I can’t stand the woman.’
Before I could stop myself, I blurted, ‘Neither can I. She doesn’t seem to like me much either. I don’t know why.’
‘It isn’t you. No girl will ever be good enough for her sons.’
‘Except for Melissa Harrington.’
‘Apparently. Although, strangely, I don’t recall Mrs C being particularly eager for her company when Nick was dating her.’
I smiled at that, and Georgina smiled back.
‘That’s quite enough talk about my dear motherin-law,’ she said. ‘Do tell me about this penfriend of yours. Have you really been writing to each other since you were children? I didn’t think anyone actually wrote letters any more …’
I was telling Georgina about Alex’s first trip to London when, much to Charlie and Josh’s delight, Nick appeared in the garden carrying a football. The three of them spent an energetic half-hour kicking it round the lawn, while Georgina and I cheered them on from the patio, before the light began to fade and we were forced to retreat inside. Matt and his family left almost immediately (Georgina told Mrs Cooper that she’d have loved to have stayed longer, but she really couldn’t keep the boys out late on a school night), and not long after, Nick decided that we too should be getting off home. Mr Cooper roused himself out of his post-prandial stupor to tell me that he hoped he’d see me again very soon. Mrs Cooper said goodbye, without expressing any particular hope that I would be present in her near future.
Outside, it was now fully dark, and the streetlamps made halos of yellow light between the skeletal branches of the trees lining the road. Shivering in the night air, I took Nick’s hand and we walked quickly along the pavement to where he’d parked. He handed me his keys, and we got in.
‘Thanks for saying you’d drive,’ Nick said. ‘I’d have hated to miss that rather good bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon that my father produced to go with the beef.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind being the designated driver when we visit your parents. I can’t tell the difference between the expensive stuff they like to drink and the wine boxes I buy in the supermarket.’
Nick laughed.
‘Where do you want to spend the night?’ I said. ‘Mine or yours?’
>
‘Mine, I think. I’m worried that I might not be able to get a decent drink at your place.’
I pulled away from the kerb.
‘You had a long chat with Georgina this afternoon,’ Nick said.
‘Yes. I’ve never really had the chance to talk to her before. We’ve more in common than I realised.’
‘We really should try to see my family more often.’
I see quite enough of your mother, thank you very much, I thought.
‘Mum is always so pleased when we visit,’ Nick said.
Choosing my words carefully, I said, ‘Nick … sometimes … I’m not sure that your mother … approves of me.’
‘Why ever would you think that?’
I took a deep breath. ‘Just … a couple of things she’s said. Like today, when she was talking about meeting your ex-girlfriend, I got the impression that she’d rather you were still with Melissa, and not with me.’
‘Are you jealous of Melissa Harrington?’
‘What? No, I’m not jealous of Melissa Harrington.’
‘You are jealous.’ Nick sounded incredulous. ‘You’re upset because my mother mentioned one of my exes? That’s crazy.’
‘You’re totally missing the point –’ I broke off. If Nick had no idea what I was getting at, if he hadn’t see anything objectionable in his mother’s comments, then there was not much use in my picking a fight about it.
‘I haven’t seen Melissa for at least five years,’ Nick said. ‘I don’t even have her number in my phone.’
My hands gripped the steering wheel more tightly.
‘I’m thirty-two years old,’ Nick said. ‘It would be odd if I didn’t have a couple of long-term relationships behind me, don’t you think?’
I gave up. ‘You’re right. I’m being unreasonable.’
‘We’ve both dated other people, but we’re together now, and that’s what matters.’
‘I know that – in my less crazy moments.’
Mollified, Nick switched on the radio and was soon humming along to a piece of classical music.
I drove on through the empty night-time streets. Not for the first time after I’d spent a Sunday afternoon in Mrs Cooper’s company, I wondered how my boyfriend could have such a total blind spot when it came to his mother.
Six
Monday morning began in its usual chaotic way, with my arriving home from Nick’s with just enough time to shower and change before I had to dash off again to get to work. I was already half way out the front door, when Alex, wearing just a pair of jeans, emerged from his bedroom.
Step away from the candy, I thought.
Averting my gaze from Alex’s muscles, I wished him good luck for his first day in his new job, and hurried on my way.
At Nova Graphics, I’d barely sat down and switched on my computer before Izzy came bounding up, and perched on the front of my desk.
‘Alexandre Tourville is such a lovely guy,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He is.’
‘I can’t believe that you’ve been writing to him all these years and you’d no idea that he was so utterly lush.’
The image of a shirtless Alex floated into my mind.
‘Well, it’s true.’ I said. ‘Actually, the first time I wrote to him, there was some confusion over his name, and I thought he was a girl. I was horrified when I found out that my penfriend Alexandra was a boy named Alexandre.’
‘But why?’
‘I was eleven. To me, at that age, boys were just annoying, noisy creatures who talked about football all the time.’ We both glanced towards our male colleagues who were grouped around the water cooler, animatedly discussing the weekend’s sporting highlights.
‘Point taken,’ Izzy said. We exchanged smiles.
‘I found it really hard to write to Alex at first,’ I said. ‘What with him being a boy. And because I had to write in French, which I wasn’t very good at. It was only after his school came on a visit to England that he and I became friends. We started writing to each other so often that my French improved dramatically.’
‘That’s what Alex told me at the party. He said that you were both thirteen the last time he came to London. I’m guessing your opinion of boys had changed by then?’
‘Well, yes … Did Alex tell you what happened on that school visit?’
‘Only that he stayed with you and your family.’
‘I wasn’t very nice to him. He was very shy, and I thought he was a geek.’
‘This is the same Alexandre Tourville you’re talking about? The guy you introduced met to on Saturday?
‘Yes. He’s changed –’
‘I’ll say he has.’ Izzy smiled dreamily.
I said, ‘Day one of the French children’s visit, we were all taken on a coach outing to Madame Tussauds. Afterwards, we had a picnic in Regent’s Park, and then we were given some free time. We were supposed to stay in the park, but a group of us sneaked off and took the tube to Trafalgar Square. I was too busy flirting with a French boy called Gérard to notice that Alex had got separated from the rest of us …’
We’re standing on the platform at Marylebone Station. Gérard is telling me his family owns a gîte in the Dordogne. I’ve no idea what a gîte is (or where the Dordogne is either – presumably somewhere in France?), and I can only understand about half the words he says, but I smile up at him (he is so tall!) and wonder if he’ll kiss me before he goes back to Paris. I’ve never kissed a boy. The thought of kissing Gérard is thrilling – and just a bit scary.
The chittering of the rails announces the arrival of the train. The doors open, the crowd on the platform surges forward, and we go with it. It’s only when I’m sat next to Gérard, with Beth and Fabienne sitting opposite, and Sean standing precariously between us, all of us laughing as he tries to keep his balance as the train jolts along, that I realise Alexandre isn’t with us.
‘Where’s Alexandre?’ I say
Gérard looks at me blankly.
‘Où est Alexandre?’ I say more urgently, looking up and down the carriage.
Gérard shrugs, unconcerned.
Beth looks worried. ‘I think he must still be on the platform.’
I groan. ‘We’ll have to get off at the next stop and go back for him.’
It takes a while for Gérard to understand this (his English is even worse than my French), but he refuses to go back for Alexandre. And because he’s put his arm around my shoulders, I decide to stay on the train as well. And when we get to Trafalgar Square, we’re too busy clambering on the lions to think about Alex, who must be the only teenager in France whose parents won’t let him have a mobile phone …
‘… so it was only when he wasn’t at the coach when it was time for us to go home that the alarm was raised. A couple of teachers stayed in town in case he turned up, and the rest of us were taken back to the school, where our parents were waiting to collect us. We’d just got off the coach, when the school secretary got a call from the police –’
Izzy put her hand over her mouth.
‘I was terrified that something dreadful had happened to Alex and it was all my fault, but he arrived back at the school in a police car, terribly apologetic, claiming that he’d got lost in the park, and couldn’t find the coach. Eventually, after wandering the nearby streets, he’d gone up to a policeman. Everyone was so glad he was safe, that the question of how he’d come to be on his own got overlooked.’
‘He didn’t grass you up for abandoning him on the underground?’
‘Of course not. Don’t you remember what it’s like being thirteen?’
‘Not really,’ Izzy said. ‘So, after Alexandre lied to the police, that was when you and he became friends?’
‘No. We were friends after the underage drinking incident.’
‘Your schooldays were certainly a lot more interesting than mine. But then I did go to an all-girls private school.’
‘You poor deprived child.’
‘And did Gérard kiss
you before he went back to France?’
‘No. But I didn’t care. I decided I didn’t really like him that much.’
‘Did Alex kiss you?’
‘No. Back then, he was much too shy.’
‘You missed out, meeting him so young. Now, he’s a really great kisser.’
‘Who’s a great kisser?’ Alfie, having tired of the discussion by the water cooler, came and sat on my desk next to Izzy.
‘Alexandre,’ Izzy said, ‘It’s not just the way he kisses. He really knows how to –’
I said, ‘Too much information.’ I was well aware that Alex must be pretty good in bed – no guy could sleep with as many women as he had and not pick up a few ideas along the way – but I had no desire to discuss his sexual expertise with my co-workers.
Izzy grinned, completely unabashed. ‘Have you seen much of Alexandre since Saturday?’
‘I saw him yesterday morning. And for about two minutes this morning before I left for work.’ Although I did see quite a lot of him in that short time.
‘Did he say anything about me?’
I hesitated. What should I tell her?
Before I could frame a tactful answer, Alfie said. ‘Are you going to see him again?’
‘Yes I am,’ Izzy said. ‘Even if he hasn’t realised it yet.’
‘Listen, Izzy,’ I said. ‘Alex is a very attractive guy, but you need to know that he just broke up with his long-term girlfriend, and he isn’t looking to get into a relationship right now.’
‘Oh, he told me about Cécile. I reckon I’m exactly what he needs to make him forget her. So if he asks you for my mobile number, Anna, you have my full permission to give it to him. Actually, would you just text him my number now? Make it clear it was my idea that he should have it.’
‘I hate to break it to you, Izzy,’ Alfie said, ‘but if he didn’t ask you for your number, he’s not interested.’
‘Oh, he’s interested,’ Izzy said. ‘He just needs a bit of encouragement.’
