Summer Daydreams

by Carole Matthews

  Afterwards we walk back to the hotel, arm in arm, and when we get to my room door, we both stand there in the corridor. Me awkward, Tod considerably less so.

  ‘You’re a great lady,’ he says softly.

  ‘Thank you. I’ve had a lovely evening.’

  ‘I’ve enjoyed your company.’ He takes me in his arms and kisses me tenderly on the cheek. His lips, I think, linger too long.

  If he asked if he could come into my room now, would I say no? Would I have the strength, the will, to turn him away? Even with a couple of glasses of red wine clouding my vision, I can see how easy it would be to say yes when, with all of my heart, I know that I should say no. It would be so simple to move my head, angle my body and our mouths would meet. A chaste kiss could, with so little effort, become something else entirely.

  Tod releases me from his embrace. ‘Get straight to bed, Nell,’ he instructs. Is there a waver is his voice? The warmth of his hands, still on my arms, burns through the thin fabric of my dress. Were the same thoughts going through Tod’s brain too? ‘We’ve got an early start and a lot to do tomorrow.’

  It seems that I’ll never know.

  As I let myself into my room and close the door behind me, I get a moment of wine-induced clarity when I realise that he sees me as just a woman to share a pleasant evening with, a business woman. But a woman, first and foremost. I’m not Petal’s mummy. I’m not Olly’s wife. I’m just me.

  And it frightens me that I like this feeling a bit too much.

  Chapter 45

  ‘Thanks, Jenny,’ Olly said. ‘I don’t know how we’d have managed without you this week.’

  ‘We’ve had fun. Haven’t we, Petal?’ Jenny lifted his child out of the bath and helped her towel herself down while he leaned against the doorframe.

  Petal nodded her agreement. ‘We went to the swings. Jenny is good at pushing.’

  ‘No finer compliment,’ Olly said, impressed. ‘You’re competing with stiff competition, as I am the king of good swing-pushers. That right, Petalmeister?’

  Petal high-fived him.

  ‘Now bedtime, young lady.’

  ‘Jenny said that I can have milk and two chocolate digestives.’

  ‘Ah. No wonder she likes you so much.’ Then to Petal, ‘You have to be quick,’ Olly said. ‘No dillydallying.’

  ‘I don’t dillydally, Daddy,’ Petal said, affronted by this assault on her blameless character.

  His daughter had a whole range of tried and tested dilly-dallying techniques that he and Nell only just managed to keep ahead of. Actually, if he was honest, they usually lagged woefully behind.

  They all trooped through to the kitchen and Jenny fulfilled her promise of milk and biscuits.

  ‘I can make you something to eat, if you like,’ Jenny said over her shoulder. ‘I picked up a pizza in case you hadn’t got anything in.’

  He didn’t like to remind her that every night of the week he worked making up pizzas and that it would normally be his last choice on the menu.

  ‘Thanks, Jen,’ he said. ‘That’s really thoughtful of you. I hadn’t got anything planned.’ Nell’s friend was going to stay over tonight so that she could look after Petal while he was working. ‘What time do you start work at the chippy?’

  ‘I’m not on tonight,’ she said. ‘It’s tomorrow the juggling starts.’ Jen would do her shift and then come straight here in time for him to go off.

  ‘Stay and have something to eat with me?’

  ‘Stay! Stay! Stay!’ Petal chanted. Jenny grinned and shrugged. ‘OK.’

  ‘Bedtime for you, miss.’

  ‘Can Jenny come and tell me a story?’

  ‘If she wants to.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ she said.

  He hung back as they all went through to Petal’s tiny bedroom and whispered to Jenny, ‘No funny voices. No dramatisation. Read it in a monotone voice. If you’re too good, she’ll only want more.’

  Jenny looked at him from under her eyelashes and smiled. In her room, Petal bounced onto her bed and, tenderly, he tucked her in.

  He and Jen sat next to each other on the bed, backs against the wall, Petal curled up in a ball beside them while Jenny read out the story. Petal had picked The Gruffalo – a story she never tired of. Olly liked it because it was short and you could guarantee getting out of Petal’s room before midnight. Unfortunately, that was the hour at which she usually came into their bed anyway.

  As Petal dozed off, they both tiptoed out of the room. Olly closed the door. ‘I’ll just go and change the sheets on our bed. She’ll probably want to come in with you in the night, if that’s OK.’

  ‘That’s fine by me. Does she do that every night?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Olly admitted. ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘That must be difficult.’

  ‘It’s something we’ve just got into the habit of,’ he said. ‘But you’re probably right; Petal should stay in her own bed by now.’

  ‘You sit down while I throw this pizza in the oven. It’ll take me five minutes to swap the sheets. Are they in the bedroom?’

  ‘Yes. They’re all out and ready.’

  ‘You’ve had a busy day and you’re going to be up all night. Have a little snooze in front of the telly.’

  That suddenly sounded very appealing. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I like looking after people,’ Jen said. ‘Living on my own, I don’t get the chance to do it that often. You leave it all to me.’

  So he did. Dozing off in front of a rerun of Dragon’s Den until the delicious smell of cooking pizza woke him up. Maybe it was like most other things; pizzas always tasted better when someone else cooked them for you.

  ‘Hey,’ he said as Jenny brought a tray over for him. ‘That smells great.’

  ‘I did some garlic bread too. Can you have a beer?’

  ‘Just the one,’ Olly said.

  Jenny snapped the top off a bottle and passed it to him. Then she brought her own tray and sat down next to him with it on her lap. ‘This flat is lovely,’ she said. ‘Cosy. My place is a dump.’

  ‘It costs us a fortune,’ Olly replied. ‘Especially with the shop downstairs too.’

  ‘But Nell’s doing well, isn’t she?’

  He shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. The bags are selling all right, but the overheads are killers and getting people to pay up is another matter. There always seems to be more money going out than there is coming in.’ He tucked into the pizza. ‘This is good.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘She seems to be away a lot,’ Jenny remarked.

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Olly tore off some garlic bread. He seemed to have taken over the role of chief cook and bottlewasher at home. All Nell was interested in was handbags, handbags, handbags. He was rapidly becoming sick to death of living and breathing them.

  Part of him really admired Nell for trying to do this and part of him just wanted his wife at home, them both pottering along in life like they used to. Like Jenny was content to do. Everything they did now involved stress and worry.

  ‘If I had a hubby like you,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away.’

  ‘Ah, well,’ Olly said. ‘You know that old saying “familiarity breeds contempt”? There’s a lot of truth in that.’

  Jenny lowered her eyes. ‘I wouldn’t think like that.’

  Olly sighed. ‘Fancy watching this film?’ He held up the DVD of Marley and Me. ‘It’s a bit slushy for my taste but I thought Nell would like it. We never got round to watching it.’

  ‘That’d be great. The perfect family night. Kid tucked up in bed. Good film. You can’t beat a night in front of the telly with some good food and a beer.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said with a smile. ‘You’re right.’

  That was Olly’s viewpoint exactly. He just knew it wasn’t what Nell wanted any more.

  Chapter 46

  It’s closing time on the last day of the show and I’m writing up my last Nell McNamara handbag order. I close the boo
k and fight the urge to lie on the floor and sleep. Or to jump in the bath and let the remainder of the sweets close over me like water.

  ‘Hey.’ I turn and see Tod standing there. ‘I came by twice today, but each time you were just swamped by people.’

  ‘Next year I’ll bring help,’ I say. I didn’t think to organise getting food delivered to my stand, so I haven’t eaten since I shared breakfast with Tod in the hotel. Now I’m starving.

  I feel completely exhausted after the busiest week of my life, but absolutely invigorated too. Every bone in my body aches, but my mind is whirling. The whole thing was absolutely brilliant. Well worth the ferocious expense. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. My stand was a big hit and I’ve picked up a dozen or more new stockists for Nell McNamara handbags. Plus my name is out there among the big boys, the players. I sigh to myself. Mission accomplished.

  The downside is that I feel as if I’ve been away for months not a week. I’ve seen nothing of Olly or Petal, or any of my pals from the chippy, for aeons and I’m so looking forward to reconnecting with everyone.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand in breaking down the stand.’

  I know there’s a tight deadline in getting everyone out of the show tonight so that the next event can start to set up tomorrow. All around us is complete mayhem with people racing against the organiser’s optimistic timescale.

  ‘Have you got a van coming?’

  ‘Olly’s driving down now,’ I tell him. At least I hope he is. I haven’t yet had the chance to ring him to see if he’s on his way.

  ‘You’ve done brilliantly this week, Nell,’ Tod says. ‘I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ I’m pretty proud of myself too.

  ‘I’m going off to my house in France for a few weeks. We’ve got some time now before Paris Fashion Week. I’m taking a well-earned break. It’s a shame that you couldn’t come with me for a few days.’

  I can’t tell what’s behind his eyes, but I’m assuming that he means me alone rather than la famille Meyers en masse.

  ‘That wouldn’t have been possible, Tod.’ He knows that only too well. ‘But thanks for the thought.’

  For the rest of the week there have been no more untoward moments outside my hotel room – or inside it, for that matter – but it does hang in the air between us slightly. The unresolved kiss, I guess.

  ‘Make sure that you take some time off, Nell. These trade events really do take it out of you. Don’t run down your batteries completely. You need time to recharge.’

  It’s not that easy though, is it? If I take my foot off the pedal, even for a minute, will all of my hard work go to waste? One thing that this week has taught me is just how cut-throat this business is.

  ‘Want me to hang around and give you and Olly a hand loading the van?’

  ‘No, no. You get off. Your work here is done.’ It’s probably not the best idea to let Olly see me with Tod as soon as he rocks up. Our phone calls have been somewhat strained and rushed this week, so I’m not sure what kind of atmosphere waits for me at home. ‘Thanks so much again. Don’t know what I’d do without you.’ I risk a smile at him hoping that he doesn’t misconstrue it.

  In another time, another life, there may have been something between me and Tod, but I’m married. I’m Mrs Olly Meyers and I mustn’t ever forget that. Besides, I’ve missed both Olly and Petal like mad this week and can’t wait to get home.

  ‘I’ll be back from my break long before we go out to Paris. Want to travel there together?’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  So with a kiss, this time very brisk and business-like, Tod leaves me to pack up the stand and muse on the last few days.

  I’m still packing handbags back into a big cardboard box when Olly turns up in the hired van.

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘How’s your week been?’

  ‘Tiring,’ I admit. ‘But, hopefully, good for business.’

  The show was great. Desperately hard work. And it’s eaten up an inordinate amount of money. I don’t even want to tot up the final numbers. But I’m sure it’s worth it. A lot of buyers came and went, ate my sweets and made the right noises about my handbags. Now I just have to sit tight and wait and see whether it translates into mega-orders and, more critically, money in the bank for us. At the moment, I feel as if the business is teetering on a knife edge. One big order from one of the online fashion outlets like ASOS or Boohoo and we could go stratospheric. Fail to get that order and we could just as easily plummet into bankruptcy and I daren’t even think about that as an option.

  I want Olly to take me in his arms and hold me and, after a moment’s hesitation, he does just that. I let myself melt into his embrace. Perhaps that’s why things got a little too up close and personal with Tod; all week I’ve needed a hug, just someone to hold me.

  ‘Everything OK?’ I ask tentatively.

  ‘Sure,’ Olly says. ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

  I shrug. Looks like the crisis that was building may well have been averted. Perhaps my absence has made Olly’s heart grow fonder. ‘Has Petal missed me?’

  ‘Like crazy.’

  ‘Is Jenny looking after her?’

  ‘Constance is on duty.’ He fails to meet my eyes. ‘Jen had something else on.’ Olly picks up a box and busies himself.

  ‘Did it work out all right with Jen looking after Petal?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘It was fine.’

  But I know that there’s something he’s not saying. ‘Sure?’

  ‘Positive. She’s a great girl.’ Then, ‘Come on, let’s get all this loaded and get you home again.’

  Home, I think with an internal sigh. Where I belong. With my husband and my daughter. And my dog. And my handbags.

  Chapter 47

  Olly and I didn’t get back until late on Sunday night. It was such a rush to get everything off the stand again and I was so exhausted by the time we’d finished that there was no scintillating conversation between us on the way home. To be honest, we barely grunted at each other as we lobbed all the stuff in the van and shot off down the motorway, glad to be out of London. At home, we just collapsed into bed – but not before I’d been to look at my beautiful child who was fast asleep in Constance’s care.

  On the Monday after my return, I decide to keep the shop shut. The good folks of Hitchin can surely wait until tomorrow for their Nell McNamara handbag requirements to be filled. I’m trying to take Tod’s advice and recharge my batteries – even if it’s only for one day.

  Olly and I walk Petal to her pre-school session in the morning. I have a moment of panic when I realise that Olly knows all the mums. He fits in seamlessly with them and I don’t. Where has my ability to make kiddie small talk gone? Do I really think of nothing else but handbags now? Has work become my whole focus? I feel myself standing on the outside, not knowing any of them, feeling self-conscious that I’m overdressed in a brightly printed dirndl skirt and ballet pumps and not the ubiquitous jeans and fleece that everyone else is sporting. Although they chat and call out to Olly, they look at me suspiciously, as if a woman going places is not to be trusted. It leaves me feeling unsettled. Did the school mums like me better when I was just working in the chippy? Do they feel threatened by my new career? I don’t know. I feel that I don’t fit in with the whole fashion crowd either – I’m not trendy and chic like they are – and yet I don’t know my place here any more. So where exactly does that leave me? I should make more effort to do things at Petal’s school, join committees and the like. But when would I find the time?

  Olly slips his hand in mine and, Petal safely deposited for the next few hours, we wander into the town centre. Our plan is to do nothing but spend the morning drinking coffee together and catching up with the real world in the dog-eared newspapers provided by the shop. We have a proper talk about the show now that we’re both more awake and receptive. For once, he seems genuinely enthusiastic. But then, I confess that I just tell him about the good bits and not how I spent much of the
week with Tod, which he would definitely not view as a good bit.

  It’s a brilliant, sunny day so later, when we pick up Petal, we take her straight to Bancroft Gardens and we all run around the park like loons, swooping and chasing each other with aeroplane arms until we’re sick with laughter. Then Petal plays on the see-saw with Olly and they run round and round the bandstand long after my energy has been exhausted. This is our favourite park to come to and it’s been here since Olly and I were both kids. Petal loves it too. It has a bowling green, tennis courts, fantastic flower beds stuffed full of those plants that councils like so much – begonias, lobelia, chrysanthemums – all in gloriously clashing colours. I think it’s nice that, after all these years, it still retains a quaint, old-fashioned air. There’s always talk of redeveloping it, upgrading the facilities. But who knows if they ever will.

  Probably the only addition to the park since I was a girl is a bench full of drunks who sit here day in, day out, and put the world to rights with their cans of Stella. We find a place on the grass away from them and eat our supermarket-made sandwiches while we listen to Petal’s relentlessly cheerful stream of chatter. The sun beats down on me and I feel my heart ease. I’ve missed them both so much. It’s good to be back and be normal again.

  ‘I’m looking forward to staying at home tonight with you,’ Olly says, arm slung round my shoulder. ‘Quality time with my wifey.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I thought I’d pop in and see everyone from the chippy later. I wanted to see Jen and thank her for helping us out.’

  ‘She’s cool,’ Olly says somewhat shiftily. ‘I thanked her for us.’