by Sarah Mason
'That's okay. I understand why.'
She looks at her hands for a second. 'I feel even worse now I know how hard Tom's been looking for me.'
'But he found you,' I say simply. 'That's all that matters.'
I quickly leave a message for the marquee company to check they're going to start work tomorrow and to instruct them that on no account should they leave anything structurally important up to a small ginger-haired boy asking for bob-a-jobs. Then I run up to my room to pack my overnight bag. I have shoe-horned a meeting with Rose and Mary into this afternoon and then I'll drive back to London. I plan to return to Pantiles tomorrow afternoon. Dom comes in while I am packing and lies on his bed.
'Are you coming to London with me?' I ask, thinking a bottle of wine may be in order this evening, along with a long comforting chat.
'No, I'm going to visit someone. Monty's offered to lend me his car.' He doesn't quite look me in the eye.
I stare at him for a second. 'Dom, what's going on?'
He reaches over and plays with the zip on my bag for a second. I don't take my eyes off his face. 'Em, it's difficult, Izzy. I don't want to upset you.'
'You're not going to—' A knock at the door interrupts me. I walk over and open it.
'Oh, hi Harry!' I say in surprise.
He's carrying something. 'You left your cardigan downstairs. I thought you might want it.'
'Oh, er, thanks.' He hands it over to me and there is a slight pause while he stands awkwardly in the doorway. 'Do you want to come in?' I ask. I get the feeling he does.
He shrugs slightly so I leave the door open and he follows me in. I resume packing.
Dominic gets up. 'Well, I must be going. Izzy, I will talk to you tomorrow.' Our eyes meet in implicit understanding. He gives me a kiss, ruffles Harry's hair and leaves.
Harry comes and sits on the bed and starts to swing his legs. Poor little mite, he's had a hell of a week too. 'I'm going to have an awful lot of bob-a-jobs for you tomorrow,' I tell him.
'I don't mind!' he says eagerly.
'Good!' I busy myself with my clothes but find that Harry is looking at me curiously. I wonder if he wants to talk about his father or whether I just look a bit strange. I clear my throat awkwardly. 'So! You met your father yesterday.' I wonder briefly whether I should have a degree in counselling or something before attempting such a tricky subject. Too late now.
Harry looks at his hands for a while. 'First time I've met him!'
'Was it?' I ask in feigned surprise. 'And, er, how was, er, that?' It would help to be able to form sentences properly.
'It was fine,' he says cheerily, seemingly unaffected by this life-changing event.
'Are you going to see your dad again?'
'Yes, we're going to Oxford in two weeks' time.'
'Right.' I nod for a couple of seconds.
'Izzz-zeee,' Harry drawls slowly.
'Yes Harry?'
'How do you know when …' He fiddles with his cuff.
'When what?' I prompt.
'When you love someone?'
My arms halt abruptly en-route to my hold-all. Normally this is just my forte – I can spend hours mulling over my relationships with Dom. But when an eight-year-old boy asks me this question I know I'd better not botch it up.
'Em, is there someone in particular you're thinking of?'
Harry blushes bright red. Not advisable with carrot hair. 'Emily,' he mumbles. At least I think he says Emily. It was pretty hard to catch.
'Em, Emily?'
He nods frantically. 'Well …' I say, struggling for something sensible to offer him. 'Do you like being around her?'
'More than anyone!' he says enthusiastically. 'Most girls are stupid. They whisper and giggle but Emily talks to me. She doesn't have a father either. I get this funny feeling. In my tummy.' He looks at me for answers. If only he knew I'm the last place on earth he's going to find them.
I would love to tell him that he's just eaten something funny and it will wear off but sadly I know that these crushes never really do.
'In your stomach?' I query, suddenly struck by something.
'Yes. Do you get them too?'
'A sort of butterfly thing when you see them, or if you think you're going to see them?'
'Yes!'
I sit down suddenly next to Harry. Actually, that is a slightly familiar feeling. A fairly recent one too. Was it with Rob? Will? The answer strikes me right between the eyes. Shit.
'Izzy?'
'Yes, Harry?'
'What do you think about me and Emily?'
'Well, it sounds as though you like her an awful lot.'
He nods slowly and seems satisfied with this completely inadequate answer. I wish I could add something more comforting but there's nothing to say to Harry or myself.
I look at my watch and realise I really do have to leave in order to get to my meeting on time. I also need to be by myself to think about this new development.
'Let's go and get you an ice pop,' I say, holding out my hand to Harry, and we wander slowly down to the kitchen. My walk may be nonchalant but my heart is going ten to the dozen. This sudden change of heart, I tell myself, for someone who until a few days ago you couldn't stand the sight of, and had regular fantasies about giving a swift kicking, may just be due to the fact that you're very, very tired.
I deposit Harry into the arms of Monty and Aunt Winnie and an ice pop and return to the hall. I pause at the bottom of the stairs.
'Izzy!' a familiar voice calls behind me.
I spin around to find Simon hurrying towards me. 'Simon, hi!' I raise my eyebrows and fix a smile on my face.
He halts in front of me and frowns. 'What's up with you?'
'With me?'
'Yes, you look strange.'
'Strange?'
'Are you going to repeat everything I say?'
'No, of course not. That would be strange when I am, of course, feeling perfectly fine.'
'Fine?'
'Now you're doing it.'
'Where are you off to? I wondered if you wanted to take a walk down to see the deer?' A walk? Again? What is it with all this walking? Is it a country thing?
'I can't,' I say quickly. 'I'm going to London.'
'When are you back?'
'Tomorrow.'
He looks disappointed. 'Well, I'll be working right up to next weekend but I'll give you a hand with the ball on Saturday if you like.'
'Great! Thanks! I'll see you later.' I turn away and run up the stairs, feeling the need to put as much distance as possible between myself and Pantiles. This latest turn of events is making me very confused. Very confused indeed.
I collect my stuff from my room and rush down to the kitchen via the back stairs. I leave a note for the family, give Meg a quick pat and zoom out to the car.
My feeling of claustrophobia lifts slightly as I put some miles between me and the estate. What am I thinking? Am I losing my tiny mind? Why not fancy Will? Ah yes, Will. A carbon copy of his older brother but not a patch on the original. Great fun to be around but lacking the depth, charisma, attractiveness and sheer magnitude of his sibling.
But therein lies the problem. It certainly will be an uncomfortable state of affairs if history repeats itself. It's as though I've sneaked a look at the exam questions and know all the answers. I know how this is going to end up. It's not going to be pretty.
After a brief meeting with Rose and Mary in Bury St Edmunds, I race down to London with my mind on one thing and one thing only. I dash up the steps to the flat and call Aidan. Although it is Sunday, he agrees to meet me at a little Italian restaurant on the Kings Road which is a lunchtime favourite with all of Table Manner's staff. The waiters know us well and always attempt to teach us pidgin Italian while we instruct them in the complexities of the English language.
After we have 'Ciao bella!'-ed like mad, perched ourselves on the highly uncomfortable bar stools and equipped ourselves with a bottle of house white, Aidan encourages me to start
my story. I think I confuse him somewhat with tales of stolen furniture, killer spiders and urns containing dead people's ashes. My tale of woe culminates in my moonlight walk with Simon and the rather unfortunate fact that I think I fancy the pants off him.
'You mean Will,' Aidan puts in helpfully at this stage.
I narrow my eyes. I wonder if he has been listening at all. 'No, I mean Simon.'
He looks patently bewildered by this. 'But Dom said you fancied Will.'
'When did you talk to Dom?' I ask suspiciously.
'Does it matter? He said you fancied Will.'
'Nooo,' I hiss, impatiently waving my arm about and damn near punching the nearest diner in the face. 'I fancy Simon.' I don't like the way this is making me sound, especially as the diners nearest to us have stopped talking to each other in an effort to tune in to our conversation. Giuseppe, the head waiter, opens his mouth to say something but I silence him with a look.
'Simon? You fancy Simon? Not Will?' Aidan says incredulously. I'm starting to wonder if he has some sort of mental deficiency. Even the diners by the door are looking interested now.
'I'm trying not to think about it,' I mutter. Easier said than done. All I can remember about Pantiles is how wonderful I think Simon is. How much he loves his family. How hard he is working to save his home. And how much I used to love him.
'Bloody hell,' Aidan adds for good measure, pulls a face and then stares into his wine glass for a minute.
While he recovers from this latest revelation, I have one of my own and discover that the wine bottle is empty. Before I can open my mouth to order another, Giuseppe plops one down in front of me. 'On the house!' he announces grandly. I suppose I'm cheaper entertainment than a magician. Maybe I should have a sign saying 'Also available for weddings and bar mitzvahs'.
I refill both our glasses and wait for Aidan's response.
'But I thought you hated him,' he says eventually.
'I did. But things have changed slightly. He's actually a very nice person. Considerate. And he's been doing all the business stuff for a very noble reason: to save his family home.'
'So?'
'I just started to fancy him. Really fancy him.' I lean forward to illustrate my point and nearly fall off my stool. I struggle back on again.
'But doesn't he have a girlfriend?' Aidan asks. Giuseppe looks suitably aghast at this and I wonder if he has given up serving food completely for the evening. I try to ignore him.
'I think so. A lawyer.'
'Is he still going out with her?' Aidan asks. Giuseppe lets a small tut escape his lips. We both look at him and he makes a magnanimous carry-on gesture with his hand. 'Have you asked him about her?'
'No! I don't want to look desperate.'
'Well, how would you like things to proceed from here?'
'Past stuff aside, I want to, er—'
'Boff him?' Aidan puts in helpfully.
He is so uncouth. Wearily I say 'I don't know what I want. Maybe I just need to get this whole job over with and come back to London.'
'But past stuff aside?'
'That's the confusing bit. I mean, he was pretty nasty to me when we were kids.'
'Of course, you've known him for years,' Aidan murmurs thoughtfully.
'Yes! I've known him for years!' I repeat loudly so that the people at the back don't think I'm a complete and utter slut.
'Everybody is nasty when they is kids,' Giuseppe puts in. 'I once cut sister's hair when she asleep and—'
'This was a bit more than just childish pranks, Giuseppe. This was quite an intense campaign of bullying.'
Giuseppe mulls this over and helps himself to a glass of wine. The other waiters are scurrying about like billy-o and throwing him nasty looks but I'm actually quite keen to hear his opinion now.
'Give me example,' he says.
I tell him about the time Simon collected all the insects he could find, including some hefty spider specimens, threw them over me and then locked me in a cupboard for several hours. I was petrified.
'Ah,' he says at the end of this sorry tale.
'That doesn't sound so good, Izzy darling,' says Aidan.
'But do you think people change?' I persist, looking from one face to another.
'Yes!' says Aidan.
'No!' says Giuseppe. 'I think you have to ask, why he so nasty?' Giuseppe adds on helpfully.
'Because he didn't like me?' I answer in a very small voice.
Nobody says anything for a second. I can see they're struggling to find something positive to say. 'How's Dominic?' Aidan asks eventually.
'He's bloody buggery fine!' I damn near shout, almost falling off my bar stool again with the exertion. 'Why does everyone want to know how he is?'
'Who else wants to know how he is?'
'Eh?' My drink-sozzled brain is struggling to keep up.
'Who else wants to know how he is?'
'EVERYONE wants to know how he is. Why is that?' I pause and stare at Aidan. 'You're jealous, aren't you? You're not seeing him, are you?'
'Not jealous, Izzy. Just … well, it's too complicated to explain. He obviously hasn't said anything so I'm not saying anything either.' He crosses his arms.
On this subject he will not be drawn and eventually Giuseppe disappears behind the bar for another bottle of vino.
The next morning I'm not sure whether it's the insights of last night or the amount of alcohol I poured down my throat that make me feel so bad. I drag myself unwillingly into work. Gerald decides he is on a sales drive and insists on a total clearout of the offices because he says they don't look professional enough. He shouts instructions through his hand-held tannoy while we all spend the best part of an hour trooping up and down the stairs, returning all the props to the basement. It takes three of us to move Yogi the stuffed bear and every time I pass the kitchens I'm smacked in the face by garlic fumes. I'm feeling so nauseous by the time Yogi has been released into his natural habitat that I have to lie down in the basement for five minutes.
Aidan is obviously as awful as me and refuses to take off his Top Gun aviator shades, which makes it very hard for anyone to know whether he's listening to them or actually having a quick snooze. Every time one of us makes a visit to the coffee machine we return with a cup for the other in some sort of silent salute to our night together. Gerald is still charging about so, after a visit to the kitchens to confirm the food deliveries for the ball, I gather my things together and set off once more to Pantiles.
On the motorway, I delve into the underworld of my bag in search of my mobile and end up emptying the contents all over the passenger seat while dangerously swerving around lorries. No mobile. I come to the conclusion that I've probably left it on my desk at work. Gerald is going to kill me. I pull off at the next service station and call it from a payphone. Aidan answers. Damn. I make him promise to Fed-ex it to me at the estate that very minute and hang up.
I hesitate for a second before calling Dom on his mobile to let him know I'm on my way back. I also want to be pre-warned if anything disastrous has happened.
He answers on the second ring.
'Dom, it's me.'
'Darling! How are you?'
'Fine.'
'I know it's a difficult situation.'
'Oh Dom. It is,' I say in relief and wonderment at Dom's ESP virtues.
'As I told you last night, I'm going to tell Isabel about us today. I promise,' he continues.
There is a pause. 'I am Isabel,' I say slowly, for my benefit as much as his.
This time the pause is on his end of the line. Eventually he says, 'Izzy?'
I look down at myself, just to double-check, and then say, 'Yes.'
'This is not your ringtone though. Where are you calling from?' he says in a strange voice.
But I'm not listening. I'm trying to think of someone whose voice he might have confused with mine.
I can only think of one person.
C h a p t e r 22
'Dom, can I see you for a minu
te?' I ask the second I clap eyes on him. Most of the family are sitting at the kitchen table playing cards and Harry has a huge pile of coins in front of him. They are playing with the big jam jar full of old pennies that we used to use when we were young. Mrs Delaney is bustling around in the background. Dom looks up from his hand of cards.
'Could it wait a second, Izz? Just until I've—'
'No, it couldn't.'
'We found Poppet!' trills Harry. Thank God for that, I was starting to fear for the life of the grasshopper in my chimney, not to mention my own. 'I found her upstairs! They gave me ten bob-a-jobs for it!'
'That's marvellous, Harry!'
Dominic follows me up the back stairs, along various corridors and into our bedroom. I swing around to face him. 'Dom, you could have told me.'
He looks sheepish and stares at his feet for a second. 'I was going to tell you that time in the garden but we were interrupted. You know, you sound exactly like each other on the phone. Uncanny.'
'How long has this been going on for?'
'About six weeks.'
'Six weeks!' Actually that does add up. 'I thought you were trying to tell me you were gay!'
His head whips up at this. 'Gay? Me?' I nod. He starts to swagger around. 'Why on earth would you think I was gay?'
'I thought you were going out with Aidan! He kept asking me how you were!'
'Well, Aidan kind of knew.'
'Aidan knew? Why would you tell him and not me?'
'I didn't tell him! We were at the Lacey-Steele function a few weeks ago. Do you remember it?'
I try to think back that far. 'Er, vaguely.'
'You'd only just broken up with Rob. You disappeared back to the office to collect something and I was on my mobile. Aidan grabbed it off me, thinking it was you, and then found out it wasn't. Only the person sounded very much like you. So I had to tell him.'
'I think he probably told Gerald too; they've both seemed obsessed with your health lately.'
'I don't look gay, do I?' Dom asks anxiously.
'It was just that, well, you dated all those girls and you didn't sleep with any of them!'
'Izzy, just because I'm nice and don't sleep around does not mean I'm gay! Besides, I slept with a couple of them.'
