by Terry Tyler
"Can I come with you?" he asked, sniffing. "I could sit in the big chair in Max's office and draw pictures."
"I thought you didn't feel well?" she said. "Anyway, I've got to be there for five hours; that's a lot of pictures to draw!" She kissed him again. "How would you like to go and stay with Daddy for the day?" Bugger Thor. Dave never worked at the weekend; whatever he'd planned to do, be it band practice or preparing for some gig, he could just bloody well cancel it. He always said that she and Harley came first, didn't he? Now was his chance to prove it.
"Yes!" said Harley, visibly brightening. "I love going to stay with Daddy! Him and Ritchie drink beer and say rude words, it's funny!"
Oh, great.
"Okay," Janice said. "Well, you get your clothes on and I'll ring him. Are you sure you're well enough? Does your tummy still hurt?"
"Yes," he said. He did look a bit pale.
"Okay," she said, again, "we'll take some of your tummy medicine, I'll phone a taxi and let Daddy know we're on our way. And if you feel poorly when you're there - I mean, if it gets worse - you make sure Daddy phones me at work, right?"
Dave's phone went straight to voicemail; Janice wasn't surprised. At only ten on a Saturday morning he was probably still in bed, sleeping off Friday night. How the other half lived, eh? She phoned for a cab, anyway. He'd just have to bloody well wake up, wouldn't he?
"How old do I have to be before I can smoke cigarettes like Daddy does?" said Harley, coming down the stairs.
Oh dear. That was something else she was going to have to talk to him about, wasn't it?
Ritchie answered the door, holding a bowl of cereal. He was yawning, and wearing an uncharacteristically ostentatious black silk kimono, a large dragon clawing its way down his chest.
"He ain't up yet, Jan," Ritchie said, glancing back over his shoulder into the flat. "Do you want to come back later?"
"No, I don't," Janice said. "We've come here in a taxi, Harley's not well and I've got to go to work. I need Dave to look after him."
Ritchie ruffled Harley's hair. "Are you feeling a bit crappy, then, lad?" he said, bending down to him; but still he didn't open the door properly.
"Yes, my tummy hurts," said Harley. "Can I go and see my Daddy now?"
"Ritchie, will you let us in please?" Janice said.
"Oh - yeah, well, do you want me to go and wake Dave up first?"
"Yes, or Harley can." Still Ritchie stood there, grinning inanely, holding his bowl of cereal aloft. What was the matter with him? Was he still drunk from last night, or something?
"Ritchie, be a duck and shift out of the way so I can go in, will you?" she said.
"Ah - yeah." Ritchie stood aside and Jan stepped into the hall way - which was when she saw, at the end of the passage, coming out of the bathroom dressed in one of Dave's Motorhead t-shirts and probably nothing else, the platinum blonde hair and long, slim legs of Ariel Swan.
Customers were taking their cups of tea and slices of fruit cake elsewhere that afternoon, apparently, for which Janice was thankful; at four o'clock, Max was happy to turn the sign on the door of the Sunrise Café round to closed. It was only then, sitting there in her apron, mop and bucket at her side, that she allowed the tears to flow.
"I'm so sorry, pet," Max said, holding her hand across the table. He handed her a piece of kitchen towel; she blew her nose and wiped her eyes. "What a way to find out. That selfish - oh, never mind. He could have told you, couldn't he?"
"Yes," Janice sniffed. "I asked him, I bloody asked him, and he lied to me. I was right, wasn't I? I knew it, I should have listened to my own instincts. All this time I've been hoping that he and I were going to get back together, all that crap I believed about us being the most important thing in his life, and all the time he's been seeing her. I've been waiting around like an idiot, but he'd moved on, hadn't he?" Janice clutched her stomach; the pain in her head and in her chest was making her feel sick. If only she'd never chucked him out - or perhaps he would have still got together with bloody Alison Swan anyway, behind her back -
"It might not be serious. Might have been just a once in a while thing," said Max. "You know, for old times' sake."
"Oh no, it's serious," Janice said. "I can tell with Dave. I could see the look on his face when she was shoving on her coat and saying sorry to me, and getting the hell out of there as quickly as she could. He was more concerned that she was going than with how upset I was."
"Perhaps it's serious for him but not for her," Max said. "If she said sorry to you and made a quick exit, it might be that she'll call it a day, anyway."
Janice laughed. "What, so he comes back to me because he can't have her? Oh, yeah, that would be just great, wouldn't it? I'm not being anyone's consolation prize. I've got a bit more bloody pride than that."
She began to cry again. Max moved his chair closer to her, and took her in his arms.
"Come here. I don't reckon anyone would see you as a consolation prize," he said. "That idiot bloke, I don't know what he's playing at. He'll come back, once he's got this little fling out of his system, you'll see. Do you still love him, Jan?"
She leant against his shoulder and looked up at him. "Yes - well, of course I do. There wasn't anyone that important before him, it's only ever been him, and the thought of him with Alison Swan hurts like fuck, so I suppose I must, mustn't I?"
"Of course it hurts," said Max, quite softly. "It's the shock, the feeling you've been made a fool of, the realisation that the future you thought you could rely on might not happen after all. But maybe you're just so used to being in love with Dave that you haven't considered that life without him might be okay, one day." He gave a little laugh. "A bit like me and the booze, I suppose!"
"Do you think so?"
"Oh, I don't know. I'm no expert! I just meant that - well, there might be other ways you can be happy, eventually, that's all."
They looked at each other and smiled, and Janice was surprised to find herself hoping, for one tiny moment, that he would kiss her. But he didn't, and the moment passed.
Actually seeing Dave, post dirty secret revelation, was another matter altogether, of course. He returned Harley, whose tummy ache had miraculously disappeared, at seven o'clock.
Dave walked straight into the kitchen and got a beer out of the fridge.
"We need to talk," he said.
"Nothing to talk about," she said. "Oh, get me one of those as well, will you?"
Dave opened her a bottle and passed it to her.
"Mummy, why do men and ladies drink beer?" Harley asked.
"Oh, because they can't face up to reality, I don't know," said Janice; and Dave had the nerve to laugh. "Sweetheart, go off and play somewhere for a bit, would you?"
"Okay!" said Harley, and ran off, quite happily.
"Come on," Dave said. "Talk to me."
"What about?" she said, and sat down at the table. "You've led me to believe that you still loved me and wanted us to be a family again, but now you're knocking off Alison Swan instead. There, we've talked about it. End of."
"But we could still get back together," said Dave, pulling out a chair; it made a loud scraping sound across the floor."
She laughed. "What? When she gets fed up with you and goes back to London? Are you mad, or just stupid? Dave, we've been sleeping together, not for a while, admittedly, and now I know why - but we've still been having a relationship of sorts, and now you've just thrown all that back in my face and taken up with someone else, and you didn't even have the fucking decency to tell me about it."
"I know." Dave looked particularly shame-faced. He looked up at her. "I do still love you, Jan. You and Harley, you're the most important things to me."
"No, we're not. You keep trotting out that line, but you don't back it up. Your band and Alison Swan come top on your list of priorities, not me and Harley."
"That's not true. If it was a choice between the band and you and my son, the band wouldn't stand a chance."
"And Alis
on?"
"Ariel."
"Whatever."
Dave exhaled, loudly. "I don't know, Janice. We're not, like, a couple. It's just - well, it's just unfinished business, you know?"
"Crap." How dare he come out with this trite bullshit? "You're sleeping with her because you'd rather sleep with her than me. Yet you say you love me. Funny kind of love, that. So how do you feel about her, then?"
"I don't know," Dave said, and for a moment he looked just like Harley did when he didn't want to go to school.
Janice lifted her beer to her lips and drank the last bit down. "Oh, just get out, will you, Dave? Just bugger off. Go and see your girlfriend."
"She's working tonight."
Janice laughed. "Poor little you. Well, go and write a song about her, or something, then. Just go. Just get out, will you?"
***
Ariel knew that asking Shane what she should do was probably pointless, but she did, anyway, and he advised her against going to see Janice. What good could possibly come from such a confrontation?
She ignored his advice.
Knocking on the door of number twenty-seven, Woodstock Close, Greyfriars Estate, bottle of wine in hand, Ariel's nerves were well and truly wracked.
At first, as she had expected, Janice just opened the door, said, "I don't want to talk to you," and shut it in her face, but Ariel persevered. She didn't know why she wanted to talk to her, or indeed why she thought she ought to; it just seemed like the decent thing to do. And now they were sitting there drinking wine at her kitchen table, in a superbly civilised fashion.
Ariel could see the pain and resentment on Janice's face; it reminded her of how she'd felt when she'd had to be mature and civilised around Frankie and Sadie, back in Goa.
She'd felt like slamming a door in Sadie's face at the time, too, and lots of other things as well, like kicking her to the ground and pulling her hair out, for starters.
"I didn't realise Dave was still so involved with you, honest I didn't," she said.
Janice laughed; a shrill, mirthless sound. She was laughing at her, though, wasn't she? "We've got a child together, love. Of course he's still involved with me."
"Yes, yes, I know," Ariel said, feeling herself going pink; she felt silly. "But women get together with men who've got children from past relationships every day, don't they? I just meant that - well, I didn't know you and he were still so involved. He didn't tell me. I made him, afterwards, though. I could see it, anyway, when you came round to Ritchie's. How upset you were that I was there, and how ashamed Dave was to be - well, caught with his trousers down, I suppose."
"Yes, well, I don't usually act like that in public, but it was a bit of a shock," Janice said, pouring out more wine into both glasses. "Do you smoke?" she asked, suddenly. "Have you got any cigarettes?"
"Oh - yes." Ariel felt in the pocket of her coat. "Here."
"We'll go outside and have one," Janice said. "I don't allow smoking in the house because of Harley. I don't really smoke, I gave up when I was pregnant."
They stood outside the back door in the cold, dark, frosty night, and lit up. "I suppose you and Dave share those post-shag cigarettes, do you?" Janice said. "We used to do that, years ago."
"Don't," said Ariel. She found it hard to look at Janice, knowing how much she must hate her.
"Why not, does it make you feel awkward?" Janice laughed. She coughed. "Oh, I don't know, you've probably done me a favour. I thought we were going to get back together again, but if it hadn't been you it would probably have been someone else."
"I don't think so. He's not that bad," said Ariel. "I mean, he's not like Shane, he doesn't shag around."
"Ah, so you're special, then, are you?" Janice asked. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Is he in love with you? Does he say so?"
Ariel looked at her and wondered whether or not to lie. No; she didn't think Janice seemed like the sort of woman who needed to hear white lies.
- and maybe a little part of her was showing off, too, getting back at Sadie -
"He does, yes."
"Yeah, he tells me he loves me, as well. Did you know that? I don't suppose he loves me in quite the same way he loves you, though. I'm good old Janice, the Mrs."
"Don't put yourself down."
"I'm not. I'm just speaking the truth. And don't you be so fucking condescending. If I want to put myself down, which I'm not, I fucking well will."
"I'm sorry." Ariel felt silly again. "I don't think Dave's a bad person, I really don't. He's not one of those arch manipulator types who feed women a load of bullshit. I think he genuinely cares very much for both of us. If I wasn't around he'd probably be back with you by now - oh, shit, I'm sorry, that sounds awful, doesn't it? I meant that - "
"I know what you meant." Janice sighed, ground her cigarette out with her slippered foot, and held the door open for Ariel to follow her back inside. "The question is," she said, sitting back down at the table and picking up her glass of wine, "which does, of course, impact very strongly on Harley and me - the question is, how do you feel about him? Is it serious for you?"
Ariel frowned. "Yes and no. I mean, I do feel a lot for him, but, to be truthful, the most important thing to me is my career. My music. If something happened that meant I had to go away from here, I'd go. I never planned to stay here, anyway."
Janice laughed. "Oh, so I can have him back when you've finished with him, can I?"
"I didn't mean that." She looked at Janice. "I'll stop seeing him, if you like. He should be here with you and Harley. It's probably what he really wants, long term, anyway." She was surprised to find that she meant it. About stopping seeing him. Nearly, anyway.
"God, no," said Janice. "That's the last thing I want. You and darling Dave denying yourselves all those nights of reclaimed passion, or whatever the hell it is, because of his responsibility to the mother of his child? What a ghastly thought; Heaven forbid." She yawned and stretched. "Oh, bollocks to it all. Do you know, a little part of me doesn't even care. Dave's put me through it so much over the years that this is just the last straw, in a way."
"I can imagine."
"I'm sure you can't. You weren't around when he went through his stupid period of self-indulgent depression, and got us into debt. Of course he was bloody depressed; he was drinking every night. If I woke up with a hangover every morning and got the sack because I was too unreliable to keep my job, I'd be depressed, too. It was all self-inflicted. And it was me who had to hold everything together."
"I didn't know about that."
"Well, no, he's not likely to tell you about a time in his life when he behaved like a complete tit, is he? Oh, it didn't last that long, and it's not particularly characteristic of him, I'll give him that, but it wasn't easy."
Ariel studied her face. She'd never talked to Janice before; she wondered if she might have got on with her if the circumstances had been different. She was the sort of woman she admired; someone who just got on with stuff and didn't make a song and dance about it.
"Would you want him back if he wants to come?" she asked. "I mean, if he and I stop seeing each other."
Janice considered for a moment. "I don't know. We've got a lot of history together, not to mention that little person in the front room. I don't know, I can't say. Don't stop seeing him on my account, though. I mean that. If he comes back to me it has to be because he wants to, not because you've left him."
Walking home twenty minutes later, Ariel decided that she probably would stop seeing Dave. She'd start winding it down. After Christmas, perhaps - or, no, after the Raw Talent auditions, she couldn't upset him before that. Yes, that was what she'd do. Definitely.
Well, definitely maybe, anyway.
***
Janice sat there for a while after Ariel had left. She wasn't anything like Janice had imagined. When they were all so much younger she'd been one of those girls that others bitched about because they were jealous of her. The great Alison Swan, with tiny hips and that amazing whi
te hair, who could play the guitar and sing. One of those golden girls who had everything. Ridiculously pretty. How come the girls with fantastic hair and effortlessly perfect bodies always had really pretty faces, too? Janice had found, today, in spite of herself, that she just couldn't stop looking at her. It was like looking at a lovely picture. She'd expected her to be a bit superficial, and cocky, too, but she wasn't; she was just normal. She seemed kind, and not big-headed or shallow at all. Quite unassuming.
Just before she'd left, Janice had said to her, "It must be so easy, being as pretty as you. I expect you can get any man you want, can't you?" So why pick on mine?
Ariel had laughed, and looked off into the distance. "It doesn't make any difference," she said. "Being born with your facial features arranged in a way that appeals to lots of people just means you get a wider choice of men who'll screw your life up if you let them, that's all."
Janice was still as jealous of her as hell, though.
She still wanted to scratch her beautiful big blue eyes out.
The thought of her having sex with Dave was so sickening that she almost retched.
She got up from the table, went to put the wine bottle away but had second thoughts; damn it, who was there to complain if she finished it?
Might blur the edges a bit.
"Come on, up to bed, now," she said, walking into the living room with her glass.
"Okay, Mummy!" Harley said, turning round to grin at her. "Will you come and tuck me in?"
"Of course I will. Make sure you clean your teeth, won't you? I'll be up in five."
"Mummy."
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Who is that lady? She was at Ritchie's house, wasn't she?"
She's a very nice woman and I want to kill her. "She's Daddy's friend. Ariel."
"Oh. She looks like a princess."
Right.
Harley went upstairs and she opened the laptop, sat down, and logged on to MySpace. Two messages. Both from Tom from Whittlesey. A little rush of excitement ran through her. No, she'd save them until after she'd read Harley's story and kissed him goodnight. Then she would go downstairs, top up her wine glass, and talk to her new friend.
