by Jane Green
‘Thank you.’ Holly turns the ignition on. ‘A bit of a handful but we love her.’
‘So–’ Will turns in his seat so he’s leaning back against the door, facing Holly, who feels horribly self-conscious as she drives–‘how’s everyone getting on? Any exciting bits of gossip?’
Holly barks with laughter. ‘God, Will. This is about the most dramatic gathering you could ever imagine. First, you have to swear not to tell anyone. If you’re staying, I should fill you in on everything.’
‘I swear,’ he says solemnly, placing his hand over his heart, and Holly tells him the whole story.
‘Tea?’ Will hollers up from the kitchen and the gang gratefully lay down their tools and come, one by one, into the kitchen, to be met with a tray of steaming mugs and chocolate digestives.
Anna looks at the tea, then at Will admiringly. ‘You are really good,’ she says. ‘Any chance you would be interested in being a second husband?’
‘Not the slightest bit interested even in being your first husband, thank you,’ Will says, looking aghast when Paul shouts with laughter. ‘Sorry.’ He backtracks furiously. ‘I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded. Not because of you, it’s just that marriage isn’t my bag.’
Holly hears this and turns away quickly, busying herself with getting more milk from the fridge. She feels uncomfortable hearing him say marriage isn’t his bag, which is absurd. What was she expecting? That he would say he’s desperate to get married, and his idea of the perfect woman is Holly?
And more to the point, why is she even thinking about it? She’s not out of her own marriage, and already she’s looking to the next? Ridiculous, she shakes her head with a grimace. Don’t be so childish, she tells herself. A vision floats into her mind of herself sitting at the kitchen table, doodling. Holly Fitzgerald, Mrs Will Fitzgerald. She shudders at the stupidity of it all, at how this obsession that she no longer seems to be able to pretend isn’t real, is turning her into a teenager.
There is no doubt about it being an obsession. There is no doubt that she has allowed herself to give in to it, to focus on Will instead of on her own unhappiness. To think only of him, to dream the dreams that have been lingering on the outer edges of her subconscious for months now.
The handful of times that she allowed herself to close her eyes and picture Will when Marcus was pounding away on top of her led to yet more guilt, and she promised herself she wouldn’t do it again.
But last night, lying in bed upstairs – the plumber had come and the defective pipe had been replaced so the house was finally warm – Holly had allowed herself to give in to the fantasies she had always been too frightened to invite in before.
She had lain in bed and thought of undressing Will. Imagined stroking his forearms, his chest. Imagined him kissing her, moving slowly down her body. She had come quickly and quietly, and had fallen deeply asleep, waking up again in the early hours, this time with a different fantasy. Could Will in fact be the right man for her? If Marcus was – as he so clearly was – the wrong one, could Will be her soulmate? Could he be the one that she is destined to be with?
Holly has never particularly believed in soulmates. Perhaps for a while, when she was a dreamy-eyed teenager, but once she met Marcus she stopped believing in them. Until now. She looks across the kitchen table at Will, who is so real and seems so very right.
‘So come on, be honest with us.’ Anna ribs Will. ‘You must get millions of passes made at you by bored horny housewives.’
Will looks slightly sheepish. ‘Not millions, but I’ve had a few.’
‘A few what? Passes made or horny housewives?’ Saffron laughs.
‘Both,’ Will says. ‘In all seriousness, though, I haven’t taken anyone up on those particular kinds of offers for a while. I had the misfortune to get caught by a husband who was supposed to be away on a business trip. His flight got cancelled so he came home.’
‘Could it be more clicheéd?’ Saffron rolls her eyes.
‘I know.’ Will laughs. ‘Wasn’t bloody funny at the time, though. I fell down the stairs, pulling up my trousers, with this raving madman roaring he was going to kill me. Honestly, I was lucky to get out of that one alive. I retired from the business of mixing work with pleasure about a second later.’
‘Doesn’t that make you think of Tom?’ Paul looks around the table with a grin.
‘What do you mean?’ Olivia looks confused.
‘Don’t you remember that time he was upstairs in a bedroom with that girl, oh God, what was her name… pretty, blonde, year above you. Kate something…’
‘Oh God!’ Saffron barks. ‘Kate Barrowman! I’d completely forgotten that!’
Holly and Olivia start to laugh as Paul continues telling the story to Will. ‘He was getting up to no good…’
‘Almost to fourth base from what I remember,’ Holly adds, rolling her eyes.
‘Yes, well, everyone was supposed to be out of the house but her dad apparently had his workshop or something in the attic, and he came down and caught Tom and Kate, half naked, writhing around on the parents’ bed. I think Tom had a similar thing – falling down the stairs as the father threatened to kill him.’
There’s a silence as they all sit, remembering Tom, remembering being sixteen, snuggled under coats in dark bedrooms on the top floors of unfamiliar houses, making out with strangers and swigging planter’s punch as they pretended to be sophisticated.
‘This is very weird,’ Saffron breaks the silence softly, her voice in a half whisper.
‘What?’ The others look at her questioningly.
‘This. That we’re sitting here talking about Tom with Tom’s brother, and Tom’s not here. It’s just…’ She blinks hard two or three times, willing the tears that have suddenly welled up not to fall.
‘It’s just that Will looks exactly like Tom used to now that he’s had his hair cut, and I keep catching myself wanting to call him Tom, or about to remind him of something he did or something we all did, and then I remember that it’s not Tom because Tom is dead, and I just feel this enormous sense of loss.’ Saffron wipes a tear from her eye.
Nobody feels differently. They have all been sitting there thinking exactly the same thing, but no one has dared say it, no one has dared to admit their own grief or their own loss when Tom’s brother is sitting in the room. Tom’s brother. How could they possibly have a right to feel this way when his own brother seems to be managing fine?
‘I’m so sorry I’m not Tom,’ Will says quietly, his voice breaking. ‘I’m sorry for all of you that it’s not Tom sitting here, and mostly I’m sorry for me. I’m sorry that it wasn’t me that was on that train. Tom was so good. Just all good, through and through. He was loved by everyone. He had a wife and children. He never deserved to be blown apart. I keep thinking that his absence has left such a gaping hole in so many people’s lives when it could have been me, and I wouldn’t have been missed. It should have been me,’ he says, as his own tears start to fall.
‘That’s not true, Will.’ Saffron turns to him. ‘It shouldn’t have been you. You would be missed by a tremendous number of people and I’m so sorry, Will. I never meant to upset you or to make you feel unwanted.’
Will stands up and allows Saffron to give him a hug before he walks quietly out of the back door. They all watch through the window as he walks across the field to the tree stump, where he sits down and buries his face in his hands.
‘I feel horrible,’ Saffron says. ‘I didn’t mean to make him feel bad.’
‘You did not,’ Anna says. ‘I have a sense this may have been… cathartic… for him. I imagine he has just been able to say the thing he has been carrying around with him for months, that he has never before been able to say. Can’t you just see it all over his face? Poor man, the guilt he is carrying must be terrible.’
Holly stands up with a start. ‘Keep an eye on the kids,’ she says quickly. ‘I’m just going to see if he’s okay,’ and she disappears out of the door. She ha
sn’t been able to take her eyes off Will, and knowing he is sitting there crying is tearing her heart apart. How can she not go to him? How can she let him feel these terrible feelings all by himself?
She tramples over the grass and stands behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder to let him know she’s there, and when he turns, his eyes red, his face streaked with tears, she sinks down and puts her arms round him just as she would her own children, and they stay there, with Holly crouching, Will wrapped tightly in her arms as she rocks him gently and whispers in his ear, ‘It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.’
When they come back in, everyone is still drinking tea around the table. Saffron goes straight up to Will and offers another apology. ‘I do owe you an amends,’ she says. ‘I want to tell you that I’m glad you’re here. That I’m not expecting you to replace Tom, but that I’m glad you’re with us. It helps and, in a funny way, as odd as it feels, it also feels very right that you’re here.’
‘Hear, hear!’ Paul raises his empty mug in a silent toast as the others join in.
‘Not a replacement for Tom,’ Olivia says, munching her way through the rest of the biscuits that are rapidly disappearing from the plate. ‘Know that we’re not saying that, but you fit in, in your own right. It’s lovely having you here.’
‘And to Tom.’ Holly raises her mug and looks up at the ceiling. ‘For in his own twisted way, he’s brought us all back together again. Thank you, Tom.’ The others look up and raise their own mugs. ‘To Tom,’ they say, and as they sip their tea there are tears in all of their eyes.
‘Mummy?’ Daisy and Oliver come in, their hands and faces covered with purple felt-tip ink. ‘We’ve finished colouring and now we don’t know what to do.’ They scan the table, spying the biscuits and both faces light up.
‘Go on.’ Holly laughs and pushes the plate towards them. ‘Just one. How would you like to watch a film?’
‘Yay!’ Both kids jump up and down.
‘Can we watch Ice Age 2?’ Oliver asks.
‘No!’ Daisy squeals. ‘I want to watch The Little Mermaid.’
‘No way,’ Oliver says. ‘I’m not watching a girl film. Ice Age 2, Mummy.’
Daisy starts to cry.
‘Enough!’ Holly looks at both of them sternly. ‘I’m choosing the film.’ And she goes out to the car, bringing back Shrek.
‘Oh not again,’ Oliver groans, but he follows them quietly as Holly sets the computer up in their room and puts the DVD on.
‘You know what we should do?’ Anna breaks the silence that descends. ‘We should cook a wonderful dinner tonight. Fancy clothes. Candlelight. Delicious food.’
Paul bursts out laughing. ‘There’s just one problem, my darling wife: we haven’t got a table big enough for all of us to fit around at the same time.’
‘Not yet, but there’s a filthy old trestle table in the barn. We could grab a tablecloth from the supermarket in Gloucester.’
‘Chairs?’ Paul persists.
‘Don’t be such a killjoy,’ Anna tuts. ‘We could drag the benches in from the garden.’
‘Great idea!’ Holly echoes. ‘Let’s do it. God knows all of us could do with a bit of fun, and God knows I could do with a few drinks. Oh shit…’ Her face falls and she looks nervously at Saffron. ‘I forgot. Obviously no drinks.’ She tries hard to hide her disappointment.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Saffron lays a hand on her arm. ‘I know I’ve had a couple of slips, but remember, guys, I’ve spent years surrounded by alcohol without wanting to have any. I don’t mind if you have alcohol. Especially if it’s red wine.’ She grimaces. ‘I’ve always hated red wine.’
‘Done!’ Anna says, excitement sweeping her up, sweeping all of them up, removing all sensible thought. ‘Why don’t we pack up and hit the shops now? We should make it there and back by six.’
The iPod is plugged into Paul’s speakers and KT Tun-stall’s sweet voice fills the room. Holly has made a deliciously retro coq au vin, Olivia is tackling the salad, and Anna is finishing off a gingerbread trifle. Saffron is whipping up some disgusting-looking fat-free, sugarfree concoction that is masquerading as some sort of butterscotch pudding, which she swears is delicious.
Paul walks past and swipes a finger around the top of her mixing bowl. ‘Mmm,’ he looks at Saffron in surprise, ‘that’s pretty good. Sugar-free, fat-free, eh? What’s in it?’
Saffron looks at him coolly. ‘Chemicals,’ she says, and as he recoils in horror Anna starts to laugh.
‘Seriously,’ Anna says as she comes over. ‘What is in it?’
‘Seriously,’ Saffron proffers the box proudly, ‘chemicals – additives and preservatives. Disgusting things that are probably making my insides melt. There ain’t nothing natural about this gig.’
‘At least you’ll die thin.’ Olivia doesn’t get it, has never got this whole obsession with supposedly ‘healthy’ eating, preferring to have a teaspoon of double cream than a gallon of fat-free milk.
‘Exactly, my love.’ Saffron laughs, licking the spoon with rapturous, put-on joy. ‘I vill be sin and bee-yoo-tee-ful even ven I am ded.’
Holly laughs and walks into the living room to finish setting the table. She stands back, delighted with how cosy it looks. The fire is blazing, there are candles filling the room with a warm glow and the table, complete with place settings designed and executed by the kids, looks gorgeous.
‘Come on, kids.’ Holly holds her hands out for Daisy and Oliver. ‘Bedtime.’
‘But Mummy…’ Oliver starts to whine.
‘No buts.’ She smiles. ‘It’s already half an hour later than your usual bedtime. Come on. Up we go.’
Holly kisses Daisy on the top of her head, standing back and watching her for a few seconds as she snores quietly, already fast asleep. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispers, ‘I love you,’ and as she tiptoes out of the room, she bumps into Will, who leans back on the wall, arms crossed, smiling down at her.
Holly’s heart misses a beat.
There is a chemistry in the air, a static that is almost palpable. She looks expectantly up at Will, and he shakes his head as he continues smiling.
‘It’s really weird, seeing you as a mother,’ he says softly.
‘Weird, how? Weird bad?’
‘No, no. God, no. You seem to have a really warm, loving relationship with the kids. But weird because I’ve never thought of you as a mother, never known you as a mother. I mean, obviously I knew you had kids, but to see you so… I don’t know… so grown-up, I suppose. I just always think of you as being young and, well, like me.’
Holly raises an eyebrow. ‘You mean young and irresponsible?’
He shrugs. ‘I’m afraid so. I think I just never thought about the responsibilities you actually have. I mean, you’re a grown-up. A proper one.’
‘So… does that mean you think of me differently now you’ve seen me with my kids?’
‘A bit,’ he says.
‘Uh-oh. Different good or different bad?’
‘I could never think of you as anything bad,’ he whispers.
Neither of them is smiling any more, and Holly’s heart is beating very fast.
‘So what are you thinking?’ Her voice almost catches with apprehension.
‘I’m thinking,’ he leans forward ever so slightly, ‘I’m thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.’
*
If you had asked Holly what it was like to kiss someone for the first time, she would laugh and say she couldn’t remember. She would say that she would be terrified to kiss someone now, that at approaching forty she has pretty much forgotten how it is done.
But she hasn’t forgotten. Had forgotten perhaps how gorgeous it feels to kiss the man you’ve been longing for, to kiss the man who has occupied all your thoughts and fantasies for the best part of every day, to kiss the man who may be the one to save you from yourself, or at least, save you from your marriage.
She had forgotten the sweetness of a first kiss. Had for
gotten how you lean your foreheads on one another’s, looking into one another’s eyes with a sweet smile when it is over, cupping one another’s faces with your hands, wanting to drink the other in, wanting to just eat them up with a spoon.
She had forgotten.
Now she remembers.
Chapter Twenty-five
Each time Olivia leaves the table, Anna feels as if someone were twisting a knife in her heart. There is no mistaking why Olivia leaves – her face turns that peculiar shade of grey, and she runs to the bathroom, hand over her mouth.
This time Saffron follows her to see if she’s okay, Anna going into the kitchen to bring out the salad.
It has been a wonderful meal. A meal filled with laughter. It is almost as if the tears they all cried earlier were extraordinarily cathartic, as if they were all able to shed – perhaps temporarily, perhaps not – the mantle of grief they have carried since arriving, with Tom’s absence being so very noticeable.
But not Anna. Anna who never really knew Tom. Anna is carrying her grief for a different reason. Anna is trying so hard to focus on getting on with her life, trying to accept that perhaps she and Paul are not destined to have children but will have to adopt instead.
She is trying so hard not to resent Olivia, but as the evening wears on, with Olivia rushing off to the bathroom all the time, she is finding the sadness settling on her shoulders once again, her bravado slowly melting away.
Anna leans her hands on the counter for a second, breathing deeply. The bathroom is directly above the kitchen, and she realizes that she is able to hear everything from upstairs.
She hears Olivia retch into the toilet bowl, then a soft knocking before Saffron walks in. She can picture Saffron rubbing Olivia’s back and hears her gently asking if she’s okay.
