by Paige Toon
I’m especially glad she’s here today. There’s been a new story about Johnny in the tabloids. He and Dana were snapped hanging off each other and looking utterly wasted in the early hours of yesterday morning as they exited a club.
I’ve spoken to Johnny a couple of times in the last few weeks, but he seems to have lost all of the tenderness he showed me in the week before we left. Dana’s influence, I imagine. Or maybe he’s just hardened up towards me because it’s his only way to cope. That’s what Lena says. Yes, she still works for him, although it’s going to be a long time before he trusts her again. Silly, really, because she was only trying to help him in her own, funny kind of way. She certainly won’t risk messing up again.
Christmas comes and goes, as does New Year’s Eve. Mum and Dad manage to get here after a day’s delay when the airports close due to snowfall, and Susan and Only Slightly Less Annoying Tony also join us for the holidays. Our new home can more than accommodate everyone. It’s truly beautiful: a large, six-bedroom Georgian house with white rendered walls, a slate roof and French windows. The garden is south-facing and full of promise for the approaching spring. When we first moved here I used to walk into Henley with Barney and go to tea shops and visit the playground by the river. He loves nothing more than feeding the multitude of swans, geese and ducks, and watching the boats as they pass by. We’ve even made a couple of new friends. But it’s been a bitterly cold December and January, so we’ve huddled up a bit and made the most of the real log fire. I’ve become a dab hand at stoking it.
My evenings are lonely, though. The only adult conversation I have is when one of our two security guys – Alan or Smithy – does their final check. After that I only have the television for company. But I can’t complain about it.
One day in the middle of February I get an unexpected call from Christian. I texted him when we returned because he refused to answer my calls, but I didn’t know if he’d ever make contact.
‘Are you at home?’ he asks me.
‘Yes,’ I reply with anticipation.
‘I’m in Marlow,’ he says of the nearby town, also on the river. ‘Visiting friends,’ he explains. ‘I thought I might pop by.’
‘Yes, please do!’ I exclaim, trying not to scare him away with my enthusiasm. I can’t quite believe I’m hearing this. I give him my full address and end the call before he changes his mind. He arrives less than half an hour later. I’ve been pacing the hall nervously, wondering if I should wake Barney from his nap so he’s there to welcome Christian. In the end I leave him. It would be awful if their reunion were spoiled by an overtired and tearful toddler.
Security buzzes to announce Christian’s arrival and I venture outside into the cold to greet him. He drives up the gravel driveway in a dark-grey Audi and climbs out. His hair is longer and I’m surprised to see that he’s grown a beard – not a big one, not like Santa’s or anything like that, but it’s more than merely designer stubble. He’s clearly committed to it.
‘Hello,’ I say shyly.
‘Hi.’ He slams the door and comes to meet me. I stare up at him, not quite sure if we should kiss or hug. In the end we do neither.
‘Shall we go inside?’ he suggests. ‘You must be freezing. Where’s Barney?’
‘Asleep.’
‘Does he still have his daytime nap?’
‘Yes. He needs it otherwise he’s a terror.’
He looks around. I don’t expect him to comment on the house, not when he’ll know Johnny is financing it.
‘He hasn’t changed that much,’ I tell him, wanting it to be true, but knowing that it’s not.
‘I’ll be the judge of that,’ he replies, and it hurts. ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I don’t want this to be unpleasant.’
I look at the floor.
‘That didn’t come out right,’ he tells me. ‘I mean, I just want to move on now. Okay?’
‘Yes. Yes,’ I say again, just to be sure. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
‘Tea, please.’
‘Chocolate biscuit?’
‘What do you think?’
He smiles at me for a brief moment before looking away again.
‘Susan brought them,’ I explain.
‘Did she?’ he asks with surprise. He never had much time for her, either.
‘She’s been great, you know.’ He follows me into the kitchen and I tell him about her. We take our teas and biscuits through to the living room. ‘How’s it all going with your work?’ I ask him.
‘Not bad. Book two coming out next month.’
‘Wow. I remember talking to my dad earlier last year about that one coming out in March. God, it’s been a long year.’
‘I know what you mean.’
The baby monitor indicates that Barney has started to stir.
‘Do you want to go?’ I ask tentatively.
‘No, you’d better.’
I nod and head up the stairs. Actually, that wasn’t a smart suggestion. Who knows how Barney will react to seeing Christian again. He won’t remember him, surely? Not at his age. My nerves return. I hope he doesn’t cry. Please don’t let him cry.
‘Hey,’ Christian says gently as I carry him into the living room. Barney lifts his head and peers down at him. He stays sitting on the sofa. I almost say, ‘Go to Daddy’, but I catch myself in time and my head spins at the thought of what would have been a horrendous faux pas. Christian doesn’t attempt to take him from me, so I decide against handing him over for the moment.
‘He’s grown,’ Christian comments as I sit down again.
Barney wriggles out of my arms so I put him on the floor and he walks over to his toys.
‘Walking!’ he exclaims. ‘But of course he would be by now.’ He doesn’t say it in a terrible way, but I still feel tense.
‘He says quite a lot, too,’ I reveal. ‘Barney, what are you playing with?’
‘Tains,’ comes the response.
‘Trains,’ I say to Christian.
‘I gathered that,’ he replies with a wry grin.
We both fall silent.
‘How’s your Contour Lines biography coming along?’
‘Done and dusted. In the editing stage at the moment.’
‘Brilliant. Are you happy with it?’
‘It’s not bad. Considering.’
Considering what you’ve been through and you still managed to write a book . . . We leave that unsaid.
‘When does it come out?’ I ask.
‘September.’
‘It should do well. Great Christmas present for Contour Lines fans.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
Again we fall silent. He watches Barney playing with his train set and sips at his tea. I hand him another chocolate biscuit.
‘I like your beard.’
‘Er, thanks,’ he replies, embarrassed.
I do. It actually suits him.
‘You haven’t changed,’ he comments, glancing at me. ‘Looks-wise, in any case.’
We meet each other’s eyes before looking away again.
‘I didn’t know if we’d ever see you again,’ I say after a while.
‘I just needed some time.’ He stares at Barney. ‘He’s grown so much.’
I watch him for any sign of tears, but he seems remarkably calm. I wonder if he has anyone in his life, if that’s why he appears so strong. I daren’t ask.
‘You seem so, I don’t know . . .’ My voice trails off.
‘I’ve come to terms with it.’
‘Have you?’ I ask hopefully.
‘I didn’t have a choice.’
‘No.’ Please don’t hate me forever.
‘I don’t hate you, Meg.’
Did I say that out loud?
‘If that’s what you’ve been thinking,’ he adds.
Okay, then, so no, I didn’t.
‘I didn’t want to feel bitter anymore,’ he explains. ‘It’s . . . exhausting. I couldn’t go on like that.’
I take a deep breath.
‘Tha
t’s not to say I forgive you,’ he continues, glancing at me.
‘No, of course not,’ I reply quickly.
‘But I’ve missed him.’
He gets down on the floor and starts to put together some more pieces of the wooden train track. Barney ‘helps’ him by unhelpfully taking it apart again.
‘Oi, you! Give that back!’ Christian says in a funny voice. Barney’s face breaks into a toothy smile. ‘Oi!’ Christian says again and Barney starts to giggle as he tickles him.
It’s hard not to laugh at the sight. It’s hard not to feel hope. So I do laugh. And I do hope. And I pray for happier times ahead.
Chapter 46
Christian comes to visit again a week later – and a week after that. Soon it’s his publication day and he invites us to his launch party in London. We go – Bess comes, too – and we’re so proud to hear his editor talking about him and what a pleasure he is to work with. He gave me a proof copy of his book to read before it came out and it’s nail-bitingly gripping. I’m crossing all my fingers and toes that it sells well so he can get on with the thing he loves most: writing crime fiction instead of following disturbed celebrities around the world and watching from the sidelines as they get up to all manner of grief.
Dana is back in rehab.
Johnny is not.
He wasn’t involved in her latest attempt to sink into the depths of depravity. He was away in Big Sur, writing. The press made out that she was angry with him for leaving her alone in LA – that this was her way of getting back at him. Of course, I shouldn’t believe anything the press says, but Lena confirmed it. Quite happily, in fact. She also said that, to her knowledge, Johnny has been teetotal for almost two months. But that’s the key, you see: to her knowledge. I can’t believe it. I want to, but I can’t.
He tried to come and visit us over Christmas, but I was so angry about the stories I’d seen in the press and the photos of him and Dana looking absolutely rat-arsed, that I told him quite strongly to stay away. I said I didn’t want to hear another thing from him until he’d changed. He hasn’t contacted me since, but Lena has. The cynical side of me wonders if he’s put her up to it.
At the beginning of April, Dana checks herself out of rehab. I do what always makes me feel sick and dirty and scour the internet for news and gossip about Johnny and her, but, to my surprise, there’s very little about them. I don’t know if it’s because everyone has become bored with their tawdry lives or if it’s because there genuinely isn’t much to say. Three nights in a row I torture myself by doing this, and by the fourth night I’m so confused by what I’m seeing – or not seeing – that I seriously consider calling Lena for the lowdown. Somehow, I’m still not sure how, I manage to restrain myself. The next day, Christian comes to visit, and for the first time since we started on our tentative journey towards friendship, he asks me about Johnny.
‘Do you hear much from him?’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘Not much at all these days. He called occasionally when we first moved here,’ I explain. ‘But he was angry with me for leaving LA, and then I was angry with him for all the crap he gets up to with Dana, so I told him to stay away from us for a while.’
‘I saw she’s out of rehab,’ he comments.
‘Mmm. We’ll see how long that lasts.’
‘What did you think of her?’
‘What do you reckon? I couldn’t stand her! She was always winding me up, calling me names and swearing in front of Barney.’
‘I’m surprised you lasted in LA as long as you did.’
‘I bet you thought we were crazy to go there in the first place,’ I muse aloud.
He says nothing for a while, then: ‘No, I understood it.’
I glance at him. ‘You did?’
‘I didn’t want to, but yes, I did.’
‘I bet you knew it wouldn’t work out, too.’
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t answer. That’s a yes, then.
‘Shall we go for a walk into town?’ he suggests instead.
‘That’d be nice. Is it warm out? Do we need our coats?’
‘No, it’s lovely.’
‘Aah, I so hope we have a decent summer . . .’
‘Me, too. Hey, we could hire a rowboat on the river!’ he suggests excitedly.
‘Ooh, yeah!’ I enthuse. ‘We haven’t done that yet.’
‘Wicked! Let’s go.’
It’s so nice to have him back in our lives. I was right: he is seeing someone. She’s called Sara and she works at his publishers doing the publicity for his books. I met her at his book launch and immediately sensed there was something going on. She’s very pretty, with long dark hair and extremely blue eyes. She’s about my age – give or take a year. I don’t want to ask too many questions about her for fear of him thinking I’m in any way jealous. He deserves to be happy.
It’s four o’clock by the time we get back to the house. Christian is carrying Barney on his shoulders because it’s hard enough pushing the buggy across the gravel driveway without the weight of my son in it. He’s pretending to be a horse and Barney is laughing his head off as he rears and neighs. I jolt to a stop when I see Johnny standing on the doorstep, a lit cigarette in his hand. Christian carries on playing, oblivious, but my feet are rooted to the spot. I put my hand on Christian’s arm and he follows my gaze, tensing suddenly when he realises what I’ve seen. He lifts Barney down from his shoulders, but Barney immediately starts to whinge and complain, jumping about in front of him and wanting to be picked up again. Instead, I whisk Barney up into my arms and Christian carries the buggy. We walk together to meet Johnny, who is stony-faced as he watches us.
‘Hello,’ I say.
‘Alright,’ he replies curtly.
‘You should have told me you were coming.’
‘I wanted to surprise you,’ he says, glancing at Christian.
Barney wriggles in my arms so I put him down and he runs over to Johnny.
‘Hey, little buddy,’ he says warmly, ditching his cigarette and swooping him up. Christian averts his gaze.
‘I guess I should go,’ he says to me.
‘Please stay,’ I say.
‘No, please go,’ Johnny interrupts.
‘Hey!’ I warn, crossly, promptly taking Barney from him. ‘Enough of that. Budge over so I can let us in. I didn’t think security would leave you standing out here like this.’
‘They didn’t,’ he replies. ‘I needed a smoke.’
‘Aah, so you’ve seen inside, have you?’
‘I’ve been staring at your lovely walls for three hours,’ he replies sarcastically.
I tut, but don’t wind him up further.
I usher Johnny inside.
‘Come in,’ I say firmly to Christian. He tentatively follows me over the threshold. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Tea? Coffee?’
‘Tea, please,’ Christian says.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Johnny insists, not wanting to be left alone in a room with his one-time best mate. I hand Barney to Christian, and Johnny stares after them as they go into the living room. I lead the way to the kitchen.
‘I didn’t know you were seeing him again.’
‘He contacted me a couple of months ago,’ I explain.
‘Are you seeing him? Seeing seeing him?’ he asks with surprise.
‘No, don’t worry,’ I brush him off. ‘He’s got a girlfriend.’
‘Why should I be worried?’ he retorts over the noise of the kettle boiling.
‘Okay, so you’re not worried,’ I reply with frustration. ‘But I’m glad he’s back in our lives again. I want him to have a relationship with Barney.’
‘Does anyone actually care what I want?’ he asks in a low tone.
I slam the teaspoon I’m holding down on the countertop. ‘No, actually,’ I say angrily. ‘And if you’ve come here to cause any trouble whatsoever you can bugger off. I told you, Johnny, I told you that I didn’t want anything more to do with you until you’d sorted yourself out!’
/>
‘Hey!’ He holds his palms up at me and I feel myself calming down. I pick up the teaspoon again and stir sugar into Christian’s tea. Johnny comes and stands next to me. I feel uneasy with him so close, but I carry on stirring and ignore him. ‘Maybe I have sorted myself out,’ he says quietly. I glance up at him, but I have to step away a couple of paces before I can look at him properly.
‘Lena said you haven’t touched a drop of booze since January.’
‘New Year’s Day,’ he confirms.
‘Had a rough time the night before, did you?’ I glance at him, unamused. He shifts on his feet. ‘How is Dana?’
‘She’s alright, so I hear.’
‘So you hear?’
‘We split up.’
My stomach turns over. ‘Did you? When?’
‘After her last stint in rehab.’
‘I heard she was back in rehab.’ I can’t believe Lena failed to call me with this new information! How has this not been in the press? I ask the question.
‘She’s been back in Montana, recuperating.’ That’s where her parents live. ‘Off the radar.’
‘Is it definitely over?’ I hate myself for hoping.
‘Definitely.’
I’m not sure I believe him. She’s surely capable of getting her claws back into him. I try to ignore the jittery feeling inside. I turn and stare at Johnny. ‘Be nice to Christian,’ I command. ‘He’s the injured party in all of this. Remember that.’
He pushes himself off the wall and starts to follow me. ‘He didn’t look too injured to me when he was prancing about with my son on his shoulders,’ he mutters. He’s jealous, of course.
‘You know, you still should apologise.’ I know exactly what response I’m going to get.
‘I’m not apologising!’ he snaps. Yep, I was right. ‘You were my girl first, remember.’ My heart skips a beat, but he continues, unaware: ‘If he hadn’t nicked you from me in the first place, I wouldn’t have had to try to get you back.’
