by Pam Rhodes
She followed him over to their table, noticing that her chair was a little nearer to his than usual. Good, she thought, leaving it exactly where it was as she sat down.
“How was your week?” he asked, gazing intently into her eyes.
“Lousy. Yours?”
“Frustrating. I’m still finding it hard to get any proper work done at home. I nearly rang you…”
Her head shot up. “I almost called you too – several times.”
“I thought I shouldn’t, in case you were with Nigel. Hopefully things are settling down between the two of you now?”
“No, they’re not. They’re worse, if anything. We’re hardly speaking at all.”
“Oh, Claire, how difficult for you. Is there anything you can do to ease the situation?”
“Give in. Say he’s right. Promise not to see my parents ever again. Apart from all that, no!”
Beneath the table, he clasped her hand. She didn’t move away.
“And how are you and Karen getting on?”
“I’ve barely seen her awake. She’s been at a conference in Birmingham for the last three days.”
“So you’re Mum and Dad this week?”
“I am. What I definitely am not is a graphic designer with a huge project that I am going to be able to deliver successfully on time.”
“Is there any point in talking to your client, to explain your challenges at the moment?”
“I can imagine how well that would go down.”
“What a pair we are!” she sighed.
His gaze was intense, his face so near. “I wish we were a pair…”
“Right at this moment, Gary, so do I – but we hardly know each other. We’ve just met at a time when we’re both unhappy and vulnerable.”
He nodded, squeezing her hand even tighter. “I know that’s true, but I just can’t stop thinking about you.”
He felt her fingers tighten around his.
Suddenly, the foyer doors burst open and several of the Beavers came pouring out, followed by Bear and another member of the scouting team.
“The boys are coming to give you mums and dads an invitation to the Centenary Fayre on Easter Monday here at Hope Hall,” announced Bear. “The Beavers have been working very hard for several weeks to prepare a special performance for the occasion that will also feature boys and girls from all the scouting groups in the area. It would mean a great deal to them if their family and friends could be there to cheer them on. You’ll find all the details about where and when in this letter. Do come and talk to me if you have any questions.”
Josh ran up to push a letter into Claire’s hand just as Max and Toby came rushing across to Gary with a letter each.
“You’ll come, won’t you, Dad?” urged Max.
“And we’ve brought two letters,” added Toby. “This one’s for Mum. She’s not been here to see us in our uniforms yet.”
Josh had climbed up onto Claire’s lap and was watching her expression carefully as she read the invitation.
“Daddy has to come too,” he said firmly. “Daddy’s got to come. You have to come together!”
Above the children’s heads, Claire and Gary’s eyes locked for just a moment before Toby grabbed Gary’s hand, pulling him to his feet.
“Come on, Dad. We need to go. I’m starving!”
Among the flurry of coats and shoes, and squealing, giggling boys, there was no chance to say anything more than a hurried goodbye – but Claire knew that what she’d glimpsed in Gary’s eyes mirrored what she was feeling herself.
“Bye then!” she called out to him, as they walked out of the door and turned in opposite directions.
From the moment of madness when Shirley and the members of the Grown-ups’ Lunch Club had first looked at that Easter Fayre poster and triumphantly decided to get involved, a ripple of enthusiasm had spread through practically every group and gathering at Hope Hall. Lines became blurred between one club and another as it was recognized that the talents and abilities of one group were very useful to another. In particular, the needlework skills of the Knit and Natter Club were in great demand as costumes were planned and outfits altered.
“Baby Charlie will just have to wait for his matinee jacket now,” trilled Doris, as she stuffed her knitting creation away with just the sewing up to be done. “I hope he doesn’t grow too fast, or this jacket will have to go to my great-niece instead. She’s expecting her first in May and she already knows it’s a boy. Takes all the fun out of it, don’t you think, if you know what you’re having before it arrives?”
She glanced across to where Elaine, the Knit and Natter organizer, was in deep conversation with dance teacher Della and her mum Barbara, along with the cleaning lady Shirley, who seemed to be pivotal in pulling the whole thing into shape. They had pushed four oblong tables together to create a work area that was already stacked high with costumes and outfits at various stages of completion. On one table there was a huge pile of floaty pale blue material, alongside some paper patterns that presumably were the templates for whatever the pretty material would become. On another, there were bright red taffeta jackets with strips of silver sequins set alongside them, ready to make the braiding that needed to be sewn onto collars and cuffs. Lined up on a nearby table was a row of about twenty trilby hats, black with a silky red ribbon around the rim, in a range of sizes from those that might fit a small child right up to more generous sizes for larger adults. At the other end of the hall, Jean, the dementia care therapist, had brought in big cardboard boxes full of old family photos, pictures of the town in years gone by, household items from early twentieth-century homes, sheets of old music and children’s toys and books with covers that were familiar from childhood. Several of the club members gathered around an ancient gramophone that needed to be wound up to play the jumble of old 78 rpm records piled next to it in their distinctive brown paper sleeves. There was great delight whenever the speed wound down so that the voice on the disc sounded like a growling bear until the handle was turned again.
Della had doubled up on her dance classes, fitting in extra rehearsals on several afternoons and evenings, some of which she took herself, while others were led by her mother, who slipped back into the teaching role as if she’d never left it.
Even the children at the playgroup were keen to join in with the fun, as enthusiastic mums came up with ideas for activities and costumes, and Jen and Carol taught the youngsters old songs with simple movements knowing that, from the moment these charming three- and four-year-olds stepped onto the stage, every heart in the audience would melt just at the sight of them.
Overseeing it all was Kath, working closely with the Rotary Club members, who called in a lot of favours around the town to get staging, a powerful PA system and a few other special items that were requested for the performance. It was decided that this Grand Finale of the Easter Monday Centenary Fayre should take place outside, weather permitting, so that Hope Hall itself would provide a glorious backdrop. However, because a wide-ranging display of 1920s memorabilia was also being staged inside the main hall, it was generally agreed that if, on the day, it was either too cold or too wet to stay in the playground, then the performances could definitely take place on the stage inside the hall with no problems at all.
The Beavers were very excited about the part they would be playing during the Easter Monday Fayre too. The plan was that all the boys’ uniformed organizations, including the Cubs and Scouts, would be teaming up with the girls’ equivalent groups, the Rainbows, Brownies and Guides, for a special joint presentation of their own.
Their performance was the topic of excited chatter from Toby and Max all the way back from their last Beavers’ meeting as Gary walked them home. He was hardly listening. His mind was full of his conversation with Claire, and the daunting prospect that both their partners, Nigel and Karen, would most likely be at that Easter Fayre event, when all the parents were encouraged to come along and see what the Beavers had been practising.
&nbs
p; The minute Karen walked through the door that night, the twins threw themselves at her, begging her to be there the following week to watch them. She said she’d definitely see what she could do, although Gary could tell from the glance she shot in his direction that, having just arrived home, her mind was too full of work problems to be able to commit to anything that far in advance.
Over at Claire’s house, Josh was just as excited as he showed the invitation to his dad.
“You will come, Daddy, won’t you?” Josh begged. “Bear said all you mums and dads must come.”
“Of course I will,” said Nigel as Josh’s arms shot around his neck in a big hug. “If it’s okay with Mummy, we’ll all go together.”
Claire looked up to see that Nigel was looking straight at her. There was wariness in his expression, but a flicker of warmth and kindness too, which came as a surprise after the stony silence of the previous few days, when he could hardly stand to be in the same room as her.
“Is it all right with you, Mummy?” Josh demanded to know.
Claire smiled across at her son. “Of course. I’m looking forward to it.”
“It’s time for bed,” said Nigel, ruffling Josh’s hair. “Why don’t I come and run your bath, and then we can read a bit more of Horrid Henry once you’re all tucked up?”
“Cool!” grinned Josh, slipping off Nigel’s lap and rushing upstairs. “I’ll race you.”
“Have you got something planned for dinner?” Nigel asked Claire before he left the room.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want anything. You haven’t eaten any of the dinners I’ve cooked this week.”
“I know, and that was stupid and cruel – and all it achieved was that I ended up hungry,” he said wryly. “I’m sorry, Claire. Look, how about you just order our usual take-away while I sort out Josh, then perhaps you and I can spend a bit of time together this evening?”
Claire nodded dumbly, both pleased and apprehensive about what this sudden change in Nigel’s temperament might mean.
“I’ll ring that through now,” she said, picking up her phone to find the number for the local Chinese take-away.
Before long, she heard Josh’s screeches of delight as his father pulled him out of the bathtub, tickling the wriggling boy as he wrapped him in a big, fluffy towel to get dry. She went out into the kitchen to switch the oven on low to warm the plates. Her mind was racing. What did Nigel want to talk about? Was it possible for the two of them to have a civil conversation after all the hurtful accusations that had been hurled? The gulf between them seemed too deep. Could they ever step back from it?
Well, if it was Nigel’s intention to try, then she would gladly meet him halfway. She had always thought of him as her best friend, but this whole business concerning her parents had made her question whether she could ever feel that way about him again. Pulling a bottle of chilled white wine from the fridge, she reached out for two glasses and started to load up a tray to take into the lounge. Whenever they had meals with Josh, they would sit at the dining table, but if they had chance to eat alone, then they often preferred to have a more relaxed meal at the coffee table, from the comfort of the settee. Perhaps the familiar intimacy of that would help their conversation this evening.
In fact, their conversation was fairly stilted at first, soon lapsing into discussion of safe subjects: people they’d seen, news they’d heard, the weather, the television, the garden. And finally, when neither of them could think of another banal thing to say, they both knew they had to tackle the elephant in the room: the deep and wounding division between them.
“Claire, I’m so sorry. I’ve hated the way we’ve been with each other over this. I hear myself saying things I know are unfair and unkind, but I just can’t seem to stop them coming out. I don’t want to carry on like this. I miss you. I’ve missed this!”
Claire reached out immediately to touch his hand, huge relief in her voice as she spoke. “Oh, so have I! It’s just awful—”
“And I can see it’s been affecting Josh too.”
“It has. He’s not daft.”
“Yes, he’s obviously got a fairly clear idea about what’s been causing the arguments between us.”
“The trouble is,” said Claire, “the two of us are seeing things so differently, and the differences are fundamental. As long as that’s the case, I can’t see how we can come back from this.”
He put his arm round her shoulders and drew her to him. “I’ve felt hurt and excluded by everything that’s happened, as if suddenly I was on the outside of our family unit, looking in. Your parents have always made it clear that they don’t think I’m good enough for you, so when they started throwing all this money in our direction, it seemed like an accusation directed at me, that I’m not providing well enough for you and Josh.”
Claire stared at him, moving even closer. “Well, whatever misguided impression my parents might have, we both know you’re a wonderful dad – Josh and I have all we need. But what we need most of all is you, just you.”
“I’ve been terrified of what you must think of me. I heard the things I was saying, and how spiteful I sounded. I’m not a spiteful person, Claire – you know I’m not.”
“Of course not!”
“But I overreacted. I backed myself into a corner and didn’t know how to dig my way out.”
Claire’s arms were around him, her voice muffled as she spoke. “Well, you’ve done that now. We’re together. We’re always together. Nothing can ever change that.”
He kissed her then, overwhelmed with relief and the deep sense of belonging that had always been at the heart of their love for each other.
“So,” he said, when at last he pulled away, “I’ve been thinking. This event on Easter Monday that Josh keeps going on about – do you think your parents might like to come along and watch it with us?”
She gulped with shock at his words. “Are you sure?”
“There’ll be lots of people there. It’ll be noisy and there will be plenty to look at, so the pressure will be off, because we won’t be able to talk about anything difficult. We’ll just all be there for Josh.”
“He’ll love that. So will Mum and Dad. Believe me, they have been devastated by what’s happened, and their role in causing this situation.”
“No more expensive presents for Josh, though, unless we all talk about it first. Will they agree to that, do you think, providing they know there will be no issue if they want to talk to us about something in particular that feels right, like that language computer game for Josh? That was a really good idea, but I should have known about it myself. I didn’t, because I haven’t paid enough attention to things like that. I just leave everything to you, and that’s not fair. I want to be more involved in Josh’s life – in our life together.”
Pulling him closer, Claire was too choked to speak.
“And the fact is,” Nigel continued, “your parents and I don’t know each other at all – we’ve only met once, even though you and I have been together all these years. It’s ridiculous that such a lot of distrust and dislike has grown up because of our ignorance of each other. Every journey starts with a first step, and I feel it’s up to me to take that step. I don’t know how it will work out, whether we could ever get to a point of actually liking each other, but I want to try. In the end, what we already share is our love for you. I’d like to think we can build on that.”
“I do love you,” she said softly.
He kissed her then, once, twice, a third time, before they drew apart and he spoke again.
“Would you like to ring them now? The invitation might come better from you – unless you think I should speak to them too?”
Claire nodded, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh yes, please. Yes please!”
Later, Maggie was able to pinpoint the exact the moment she finally fell out of love with Dave. She had soldiered on for all those weeks and months after he left her, feeling shell-shocked and abandoned by what had happened.
&nbs
p; The fact that he had left her for a younger woman was humiliating, but totally understandable to her whenever she faced the mirror and took a critical look at the way she’d let herself go over the years. The thought of him making love to anyone else at all, after the lifetime they’d spent together, made her feel physically sick. The knowledge that a new partner was now expecting his child, a baby who would be a brother or sister to their own grownup children, Darren and Steph, was just an unbelievable nightmare. The reality of him leaving the family he shared with her to play happy families with another woman and different children was like a knife in her heart.
But then came the day when she found this answerphone message waiting on her mobile:
“Hi, Mags. Dave here. I hoped to speak to you, but you’re not there. How are you doing, anyway? We’re all doing fine. Mandy is halfway through her pregnancy now, so I’m having to make sure she gets lots of rest. She took herself along to the doctor’s for a check-up the other day. She told me the doctor is worried about her and says she should really get a lot of bed rest and keep her feet up most of the time. She stays upstairs whenever I’m home, because she feels most comfy up there watching telly – which I do understand, if that’s what the doctor says she must do.
“Hey, do you remember how you had a longing for cream cheese when you were expecting Darren – or was it Steph? Well, Mandy is mad for those huge milk chocolate bars, battered sausage and chips and strawberry milkshake – would you believe! I can’t tell you how many times she’s sent me out late at night to find extra supplies when she gets her pangs.
“It’s quite difficult for me working all day and then looking after Belle and Marlin when I get home. I suppose it’s because it’s such a long time since our children were small. I’ve forgotten a lot. I was thinking the other day about how, when you were expecting, you always went into nesting mode. You just kept cleaning and cooking all the time. All those lovely dinners and puddings. I wish I’d noticed a bit more about how you made all those nice dinners now I’m the one in charge of cooking.
