‘Why was he with her in the first place?’ Risky asks, making a fair point. ‘If he was just going to cheat on her then walk away without a fight?’
‘I think some men just like to have a woman at home. A security against their loneliness. Someone they can rely on to make house and make babies. It’s like money in the bank, they know they will always have it.’
‘Yeah, unless two badass wedding planners foil their plan, right boss?’
‘Right, Risky.’ The only thing getting her through the heartache of her two favourite relationships being crushed is knowing that she exercised her feminism goals and rescued Lauren from an absolute rotter.
‘I can talk to Michael for you, if you want?’ she says. ‘I will. I’ll tell him he’s been unkind.’
‘Thank you. But really, I have to sort this out myself.’
‘How are you going to do that?’
‘I’m not sure yet, Risky. Can we just get this wedding tied up so I can work that out?’
‘Sure boss, whatever you need.’
Tommy gurgles next to me. It’s time for a feed. Risky takes him out of his bouncer and gives him to me. I unclip my bra and feed him.
‘I love him being here,’ Risky says. And I agree.
I couldn’t take another week of not being with my baby, or another week of feeling like Michael was doing me a favour by looking after him. Or another week of anything that is happening in my house. So I insisted Michael went back to work and, as there are no longer any meetings, there is no reason why Tommy can’t be with me in the office while Risky and I get this job completed.
‘I’m worried about Lauren,’ Risky says. And I agree because her radio Instagram silence is strange.
‘I’m sure she’s just recuperating. Heartbreak is terrible for anyone, let alone when the world’s making you out to be crazy,’ I say, stroking Tommy’s head.
‘I saw a pap shot of Gavin leaving their house this morning. He’s still living there. I wonder where she is.’
‘With her dad I’m sure. Hopefully nowhere near her mother.’
‘I hope not. She’s better off ditching that bitch. What an absolute horror of a woman she is.’
I’d hate to be a woman on the wrong side of Risky.
I never met any of Lauren’s friends. Maybe she doesn’t have any. A cliché of being rich and famous is that you are lonely, and I actually think that Lauren is exactly that stereotype. To think anyone presumed she had the perfect life. And then to be betrayed by her mother.
I’m ready to exit this world of celebrity drama now. My maternity leave is beginning. Just me and my baby, and my terrible marriage that I still have no idea if I can fix.
Or if I even want to.
‘We need to try and find her,’ Risky says, radiating a new enthusiasm that I don’t have the energy for right now. I’m tired, really, really tired.
‘Risky, they’re all grown-ups and they’ll all work this out. Lauren doesn’t need us.’
‘Of course she needs us, we saved her.’
Risky keeps saying that. I might get her a cape for Christmas so she can feel and look like the superhero she thinks she is. Whistleblowing on Gavin has put her firmly in place as a woman who will, at some point, save the world.
‘You could contact her dad?’ she asks me. Causing me to almost drop Tommy and turn a neon shade of red. I hoped I had gotten away with that, but I suppose me yelling ‘Anal Man’ gave it away.
‘I mean, I wouldn’t say I know him,’ I say, spluttering.
‘OK, well you—’
‘I met him yes,’ I blurt, before she says it.
‘Sure … you, er, “met” him,’ she says, rolling her eyes and doing inverted commas with her fingers. ‘Well can you contact him and ask him how she is?’
‘Risky, it isn’t our problem.’
She comes to my desk and sits on it, bending over to get her face as close to mine as possible. Tommy blinks at her proximity.
‘Boss, there is a woman out there with no one to turn to. She tried to kill herself at her own wedding. She could be thinking about doing something stupid again. We have a responsibility to make sure she is OK.’
‘Risky, please. I just want to get this job wrapped up and get back to my maternity leave.’
‘OK, well if anything happens to Lauren and you knew a way to reach out to her, then that will be with you forever.’
‘Woah. That’s not fair!’ I say, swapping Tommy onto my other boob.
‘I’m just saying, if you know of a way to help someone you should do it. Her dad might be beside himself about it all. He might need help too.’
I think about Ross, and how kind he was to me that day when I acted like a drunk hussy and demanded anal in the middle of the afternoon. He didn’t make me feel worse. He’s a good person. Maybe he does need help. Lauren will be a mess and it can’t be easy on him either, knowing his ex-wife had an affair with his future son-in-law.
‘OK, I’ll go and see him. I’ll check in on Lauren. I’ll make sure she’s OK. Then can I get back to my life, or whatever is left of it …’
‘Yes. Yes you can,’ Risky says, heading back to her desk to read a text message. She looks very excited as she reads it.
‘Who is it?’ I ask, fascinated.
‘Oh, um … it’s Adam.’
‘Risky, please, if this thing gets out it could be really damaging for my business.’
‘Beth, there’s so much gossip surrounding this wedding, do you honestly think anyone would care about me and Adam getting together?’
She raises a good point.
‘Anyway, weren’t you going somewhere?’ she asks, suggestively.
‘OK, OK, I’ll go.’ I get my bag and put Tommy in his sling. ‘I’ll go because I just want to put this whole thing behind me.’
Bad choice of words.
‘I bet you do, you saucy minx,’ Risky says, winking at me. She is relentless.
Ruby
I step out of the shower and begin my usual routine. I fully dry myself in the bathroom, then put on my dressing gown and button it up all the way. I peek into the living room to make sure Bonnie is safe in front of the TV, then go to my room, lock the door and get dressed. I’ve done this every morning for as long as I can remember.
But today, I push myself into something new. It’s time.
I unlock my door. And I take off my dressing gown. I am wearing just my knickers and bra. Even when I am alone, I hate being unclothed. Just standing outside my bedroom this way is making my heart race. I go downstairs. The fear of the front door bursting open, people on the street seeing me. My stick-thin body, the fur. I keep going.
I get to the living room door. I see the top of Bonnie’s head; she is still engrossed in Peppa Pig. I remind myself that she is my daughter. She has already seen it. She deserves to know the truth about her own mother. The more I hide myself, the more I will teach her to hide herself. I know the dangers of that.
Deep breath. Be brave.
With as much confidence as I can muster, I walk across the living room, in front of the sofa. Bonnie barely looks up, so I do it again. I am parading in front of her in my underwear, my body hair is at its maximum. By this afternoon, it will be gone, I finally made an appointment. But it will grow back, and I can’t hide anymore.
I stand directly in front of the TV.
‘Mummy, you’re in my way,’ she says, not even looking at me. She leans to the left to see the TV around me. It makes me laugh. I do a silly dance. Still, she doesn’t look. I put my hands in the air and wiggle them around, I make silly faces, pulling the sides of my mouth wide open and sticking my tongue out. I turn around, stick out my hairy bottom, wiggle it from side to side.
Eventually Bonnie looks at me. ‘Mummy, why are you doing that?’
I tell her I don’t know, just because. But of course, my reasons are epic. I am doing this because I can’t be afraid of myself anymore. Because I am ready to be liberated from the jail I have been in since sch
ool. Because I want my daughter to know that to fear yourself is a form of torture, and that to walk confidently in just your underwear, in the confines of your own house, without wanting to cry, is an experience that all women should be able to take for granted.
I have proved my point, and I am proud of myself. Enough for one day.
‘OK Bonnie, five minutes, OK? Then we have to go.’
‘OK,’ she says.
As we reach the nursery door, I remind myself that everyone has the right to act badly. It’s how we recover that matters.
‘Bonnie, you’re back!’ says Miss Tabitha. She is clearly delighted to see my daughter, as are the other children, who swarm around Bonnie and start playing with her immediately. ‘Hello Ruby, how are you?’
‘I’m good, thank you. Thank you for allowing us to come back,’ I say, graciously.
‘You’re welcome. We’re just so happy to see you guys. This place isn’t the same without Bonnie.’
‘That’s really kind, thank you. And I’m sorry. The way I behaved that day was unacceptable.’
‘Really, it’s fine. We all have bad days.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, turning to leave.
‘Mummy, wait,’ calls Bonnie, running over to me. She throws herself against me, wrapping her arms around my legs, squeezing me as hard as she can. She has never, ever done this before. I kneel down to her.
‘Have a great day, OK?’ I say, kissing her cheek. ‘I love you.’
She runs off happily to see her friends. People would pay millions for a shot of the endorphins that just ran through my body. I clench my fists and shut my eyes, not wanting them to escape.
‘You can stay if you like,’ Miss Tabitha says. ‘We have a music class?’
‘Oh, that’s sweet but no, I have an appointment I can’t miss. Thank you though.’
‘You’re welcome.’
I wave goodbye to Bonnie, who is back playing with her friends. This is better. She is where she should be.
‘Oh, Miss Tabitha?’ I say, turning back before I leave. ‘Bonnie will only be coming Monday to Thursday now, we’re going to spend Fridays together. Do something fun.’
‘Lovely,’ she says, almost relieved. ‘I’ll make a note of it.’
It’s now time for my next slice of humble pie.
Approaching the salon, I remind myself of what Miss Tabitha said. We all have bad days. Of course we do, I am not alone in my struggles. Parenting and polycystic ovaries are a terrible combination. I need to cut myself some slack on how hard I find it sometimes.
‘I have a ten a.m. with Maron,’ I say to the receptionist. I am prepared for her not to remember my name, and I have prepared myself not to be annoyed about it.
‘Ruby, hi. Yes, she’ll be right with you.’
‘Oh, OK.’ I take a seat.
‘Ruby!’ says Maron. ‘No Bonnie this time?’
‘No, I thought maybe best I come alone, don’t you?’ I smile, offering an olive branch.
‘I think that is almost definitely going to be better for everyone,’ she says, taking it. ‘Shall we get you sorted then?’
I follow her into the treatment room.
‘Here, get undressed and I’ll be right back,’ she says, handing me a big enough towel to cover myself when I have taken my clothes off.
‘Thank you,’ I say, waiting until she has shut the door.
I’ve learned a lot about myself over the past weeks. I know I need to stop pinning my existence on my condition. That I have to break free of its shackles and realise that, beyond it, there is a life I could be living if I allow myself the opportunity to embrace it. Better relationships with my daughter, my friends, myself. I have a long way to go, but right now, I can’t wait to get this fucking hair off my body.
‘Ready?’ Maron says, tapping on the door.
‘Oh yes,’ I reply. ‘I’m ready.’
Beth
I find myself at Ross’ front door, seriously considering not knocking on it. He might presume I am crazy and turning up for more weird sex. But Risky will kill me if I don’t report back with at least having spoken to him. So, I do three gentle knocks. Tommy is asleep in the carrier on my chest.
Ross opens the door. He looks at Tommy.
‘Oh God, it’s not mine, is it?’
‘No, I … he …’ I realise he is joking. We both know there are multiple reasons why that cannot be the case. The timing, obviously. Not to mention the entry point.
‘Hi,’ I say, nervously. ‘Sorry, I know this is weird, but I just wanted to check on Lauren. I haven’t heard from her since the wedding, she’s not posted anything on Instagram. I just wanted to make sure everything was OK and presumed you’d know?’
‘That’s very sweet, thank you. Come in.’ We head into the living room. He tells me to take a seat. I choose not to sit on the sofa, but I do notice a little smudge on it that looks like someone has tried to clean a few times. It was almost definitely caused by my breast milk.
‘Can I get you anything?’ he asks me, making himself a drink from the bar in the corner. Like a lawyer in his office in an Eighties TV show.
‘No thanks, better not.’
‘He’s cute, what’s his name?’ he asks.
‘Tommy. He’s a nice baby. I’m definitely going to keep him.’
Usually that makes people laugh. Not this time.
‘Well, cherish every moment,’ he says, looking down. I move on.
‘So, about Lauren, is she OK? Do you know where she is?’
‘Yup, she’s upstairs. She hasn’t come down since Sunday. It’s normal when bad things happen – she takes a lot of solace from her childhood room. She shared it with Verity.’
Verity. Why do I know that name?
‘My other daughter. She died when she was a little girl.’
Verity is the person who died. I remember now, he mentioned her at the wedding. That was his daughter? ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry.’ I find myself wrapping my arms a little tighter around Tommy.
‘Yeah, Lauren was only five when it happened.’
‘It?’ I’m winded. I don’t know if I should be asking questions, but I find myself devastated for him. The puzzle of Lauren and Mayra’s troubled relationship is starting to piece together.
‘Verity drowned in the pool outside. She’d just learned to swim, so we were all being very relaxed about watching her. Lauren started screaming when she saw her at the bottom of the pool. I dived in to save her, but it was too late. The worst day of my life. I hope.’
‘I didn’t know any of this,’ I say, wiping away a tear. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘No, it’s not something we really talk about. Especially Lauren. She has paid people to keep it out of the press. It hurts her too much.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
It’s odd, I knew there was something sad about him, and Lauren too. I presume losing her sister was the void Lauren told me about? And as for Mayra, she must be in agony. It’s no excuse for what she’s done, but it does explain a lot.
‘It must be so hard, even still. Especially as it happened here.’
‘I had the swimming pool filled in and I beat myself up a little bit every single day. I can’t sell this house. The idea of someone else living here and not understanding what happened is too painful. So here we are. A messed-up family, trying to get through life. The world sees us as rich with a famous daughter. Apparently, that makes us lucky. Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re supposed to be in that new baby bubble with your husband.’
‘Oh sure, yeah, the lovely bubble. That’s how I ended up on that couch with you,’ I say, and he laughs this time. ‘I really am sorry, this must be so hard for her. For all of you.’
‘It is. But you know what else is hard? Marriage. So maybe she’s better off knowing about Gavin now rather than when she’s got a few kids and is tied to him forever,’ he says. ‘Finding out you’re married to a cheat when you’ve invested half of your life in them is no joke.’
‘No, I can imagine,’ I say, my own guilt tapping me on the shoulder. Like a little gremlin threatening to multiply and cause hell. ‘Mayra seems like a real piece of work.’
‘She is, but ultimately she’s just as unhappy as I am. Verity’s death hit her hard, she let Lauren down and she knows it. She’s struggling with it all too.’
‘You’re so together,’ I say, amazed by him. It’s so strange being around a man with grown-up emotions and pragmatic approaches to big problems. There is no blaming, no name-calling, no bullying. It makes me realise what a mess Michael really is.
‘I’ve learned the hard way. And have had a lot of therapy. Anyway, Lauren is OK. Or at least she will be. She’s here with me and I’ll get her through it. Thank you for caring.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’ I ask. He shakes his head. Then I realise that Lauren is standing at the door of the living room. She looks thin and tired. She has a pink velvet tracksuit on, and no make-up.
‘Hi Beth,’ she says.
‘Hi Lauren. I just wanted to check in on you, Risky and I have been worried and wondered if there was anything we could do.’ She walks into the room and sits down on the sofa, right on top of my breast milk.
‘You must think I’m so stupid, all that planning for nothing,’ she says, sweetly. Her dad puts his arm around her, and for the first time I realise she is just someone’s little girl. A million miles from the major celebrity who the world is talking about.
‘Actually, no I don’t. I think you believed in someone and they let you down. I’m glad you two have each other.’
‘Me too,’ Lauren says, as Ross holds her tighter.
‘We might be a mess, but we’re our mess. Right Lolly?’
Lauren pats his hand and smiles.
So Lucky Page 24
