by kendra Smith
God, no, I must have been so drunk, and then he’d put his hand round my waist and I’d let it stay there, let him tell me that money was no problem, that I’d come to the right man. And because I was so horribly broke – am always horribly broke – I listened to him. I thought I’d found a solution. If only I’d known what I’d be subjecting myself – and Tyler – to for all these years.
‘Mum!’
‘Sorry, Tyler, OK, let me think about what to do.’
What kind of creep keeps racking on interest to a single mum who’s a part-time cleaner? What kind of person does that? Someone who doesn’t give a fuck, that’s who – I shove my umbrella into my bag and sigh – someone who’s been a loan shark for years and saw me walk right into his arms. Desperate. Needy. Drunk.
*
By 9 a.m. Gloria and I are busy scrubbing floors and emptying bins.
‘Charlie, you goose, what are you doing!’ Gloria is leaning on her mop, smirking at me as we both watch the bucket of water topple over while I jig about trying to remove dental floss from my gloved hands. Thank God for Gloria. I really couldn’t do this if it wasn’t for her.
‘All done, Charlie, pet?’ Gloria trills as she wafts past in a cloud of Dettol. I don’t know how she does it – she must be pushing sixty-five, but won’t tell me her age. I look up to see where she’s gone – you can roughly tell if you listen to where the warbling is coming from. Gloria has her Walkman from the eighties firmly attached to her ears at all times and carries it in a money belt.
Trouble with these dental studios is that they’re full of mirrors. Glancing at my reflection, I notice that I look exhausted. Hardly surprising. I yank on my hair and try to flatten it down, and wipe away some mascara that’s under my eyes. I stare at myself in the mirror: I can’t seem to shake that feeling of dread. I hope my plan works.
‘C’mon, duck! You must be finished now?’ Gloria waltzes into the room with her headphones around her neck.
‘In a minute.’ I rinse out a cloth in the sink.
Suddenly she stops mid-song and looks over at me. ‘Hey, watcha looking all forlorn for, pet?’
‘Nothing, Gloria.’ I shrug. ‘You know, life.’
Gloria comes up to me and takes the cloth from my hand. ‘You’re so pretty, pet,’ she says, touching my cheek and winking. ‘And young… too young to be a cleaner in a dingy place like this. Let’s go to the shops on the way home. Cheer you up a bit.’
‘Only got a tenner to last till Friday, Gloria. Maybe another time.’
‘C’mon, thing will change,’ she chides.
‘Things would have to change quite a lot. Tyler’s talking about going to college, photography, which is great – but I have no idea how to pay that bill. I don’t want to stop him, but it also means no money from him if he gives up his job at the chippy. And he’s just so tricky to read at the moment…’
‘He’s a teenager, Charlie, remember?’ She tips her head sideways at me. ‘Go on, love, I just mean the charity shop. We can try on some evening dresses, have a laugh!’ She puts her arm round me and wiggles her hips. It’s hard not to smile. Gloria feels like the aunt and mum I never had rolled into one.
7
Suzie
Two miles away, at home, Suzie woke up with a thumping head, dry mouth and, looking down at her chest, in one of Rex’s T-shirts. It must have been a bad night if her White Stuff embroidered nightie hadn’t gone on. Her inner critic was having a field day. Oh, this is a new low, darling. Whatever have you done now?
She remembered the park, the toddler. Then rushing to work on the train yesterday, clutching her cup of coffee in her hand, squeezing it tight and almost enjoying the burning sensation on her fingers. She’d watched the houses whizz by but not really seen them, saddened about how melancholy she felt again. And then, despite or maybe because of yesterday, it had led to after-work drinks at the bar. A section of her brain was registering self-disgust at just how provocative she’d been, yet another part – the part which had been mesmerised by the toddler – was enjoying it all, wishing she was – what? With someone else?
She sat bolt upright. Fragments of the evening appeared. Olives? A taxi to the station? She leant back further – what was his name? Steve?
Rex appeared in the doorway smiling at her. ‘How’s your head?’
‘Um, not great, actually.’ Suzie touched her head. He wandered over to her bed, placed a cup of steaming coffee on the bedside table along with two paracetamol.
The Doyouwantababy forum hadn’t warned her about this. About the feeling of shame, about how your husband might just know you were being unfaithful in your head… She pulled the duvet up to her chin as the golden sun slipped in between the cracks in the curtains and she smiled at Rex.
‘You were pretty wasted last night. It’s not like you,’ he said, turning around and pulling the curtains open.
She winced as the sun’s rays spread over the duvet and across her face. It was then she remembered another trigger for all these emotions, which had been buried for so long. Her ovulation kit, a miracle after all these months. A line. But it was no use, not with Rex—
‘Darling?’ He was standing by the bed, looking down at her, arms folded, the rest of him encased in tight Lycra, muscles bulging from his tanned legs, ready to face the Hampshire hills. His head was cocked to one side, enquiringly.
‘Oh, yes, client thing, we were just celebrating an account we thought we’d never win. Huge kudos for the agency,’ she quipped to make light of her dark thoughts.
She vaguely remembered the bar, getting drunk to erase the feelings of the morning, to take the edge away, the champagne, the flirting, texting Rex to say she was going to be late. The tapas, the green olives that, bizarrely, she had found hysterical. She remembered the others from the agency winking at her, this attractive man talking about kids, about his kids. I suppose that’s what did it. I practically threw myself at him. She grimaced inwardly.
‘Right, well I’m off out to meet the lads, thirty-k cycle today.’ He bent down and kissed her lightly on the forehead and she was assaulted by his citrusy aftershave. ‘Unless you—’ He grinned at her and started to pull the duvet off.
She shook her head. ‘Rex—’
‘Only kidding, sweetheart, you rest. See you later.’
She closed her eyes. Forsaking all others. What kind of loser are you, Susan Havilland? Rex means everything to you. She could almost hear her mother whispering it to her. Her mother was possibly the only person in the world who felt more grief than her about being without any grandchildren, so much so that they had both said things they regretted – things about how her daughter had let her down, things about how Suzie had hated, just hated her upbringing and why had she needed to go to boarding school and didn’t they both know how much damage she and Dad had done and how could they? Phones slammed down. It had been a heated row eleven months ago. They hadn’t spoken since.
That did it. She resolved right there and then to have another word with Rex – she’d have to tell him about her plan, anyway. She hugged the secret to herself. Suddenly she felt a bit sick.
She carefully pulled her side of the duvet up with two fingers as any sudden movements made her feel incredibly dizzy; she swung her legs out, and wandered to the bathroom. As she walked past her dressing table, there was a business card lying there: Steve Atkins Client Services Manager. She grabbed it and threw it in the bin. Thank God it was Saturday. She could sweat out her shame at the gym soon. She needed to leave her lustful night behind.
8
Charlie
‘This one’s nice!’ Gloria is shimmying outside the changing rooms in the charity shop. She’s in a green velvet dress with see-through sleeves. I grin. Always up for a laugh.
‘And when would we need those, Gloria?’ I whisper, so the shop assistant can’t hear. ‘To some fancy-arse ball?’
‘Not so fast, my darling! You never know!’
‘Yes, I do! The highlight of my week is an Asda Tha
i “takeaway” with Tyler on a Friday night!’
She winks at me, puts her hands in the air like a ballerina, and twirls around.
As we leave the shop, the clouds have gathered and it has become quite gusty. Leaves are piled up like mini bonfires against some of the houses, and they swirl in the street, scurrying along as if choreographed into an autumn dance. It feels chilly but it’s one of my favourite seasons. It will be Halloween next month. The cat hates that night; all the local kids run riot, ring the doorbell till all hours, scream and wear face masks while he hides under the sofa.
‘Bye, darlin’.’ Gloria waves at me as she gets on her bus. I watch her silhouette getting smaller and smaller as she beams at me from the top window of the bus. Now she’s blowing kisses. I wave back at her.
My bus is going to be another five minutes. Just then, a car roars by, and narrowly misses the kerb where I’m standing. The driver veers into a massive puddle, but even though I jump out the way, I am hit with a huge splash of water. Bloody cheek! He should have seen that! There are huge ‘L’ plates on the side and back of the car. Honestly, the instructor should be more careful.
I raise my head up from brushing down my coat and catch sight of the instructor and my hands stop in mid brush. He’s mouthing sorry at me and shrugging while the driver fiddles with the gear stick. He looks utterly out of place in Chesterbrook, tanned and exotic somehow. He’s wearing some sort of red bandana around his neck. He grins at me. What a cheek!
I stand there with my mouth open. Just then, my bus swooshes into the bus stop and obscures my view. I shiver. Gorgeous or not, sorry doesn’t really cut it. I’m soaked now just before my class at the gym.
9
Suzie
At 11.15 a.m. Suzie plonked herself on the wooden changing room bench next to Dawn.
‘You look terrible,’ said Dawn, looking up from tying her laces.
‘Thanks.’ Don’t give anything away. She glanced at herself in the floor-length mirrors: matching top, bag and bright neon and black Sweaty Betty leggings – and her look was finished off with huge, haunting mahogany circles under her eyes.
Suzie pulled her shoulders back and smiled tightly. ‘Client do. Big bash at Canary Wharf – you know?’ She didn’t expand on her obsession with a clearly fertile client, and anyway, how would Dawn know what it was like? She was happily cocooned in a world as cosy and warm as a pair of Ugg boots. Life for Dawn revolved around two kids, glitter reward stickers and walks in wellies to the woods. Dawn would never do something like this. Dawn would never dream of chatting up a good-looking stranger, of lacing her arms over someone else’s shoulders to make very sure her cleavage was on maximum display to her admirer, as she smiled at them, would she?
Imagine if I’d gone home with him! Suzie shuddered. No, Dawn’s moral compass was entirely intact. And I wouldn’t want her any other way – she’s just the complete opposite of me, that’s all – has been since uni. In fact, she doesn’t even know how many calories are in half a Pret egg sandwich – can you imagine?
‘You all right?’ Dawn looked at her.
No, she certainly wouldn’t have been so brazen. Ms Moral Conscience was at it again. Suzie sighed as she flung open the doors from the changing room.
As they entered the dance studio, Suzie spotted a new girl. She looked a bit shabby in tight grey tracksuit bottoms. And she seemed to be wet. Which fitness catalogue had she used? Not Running Mile, like her, the glossy catalogue that came through her letterbox each month, more like Run for Your Life in that outfit!
Stop it, Suzie.
Hadn’t she seen her in here somewhere? Yes, in the café, but on the other side of the counter, doing the dishes? So, she was a cleaner here?
‘Now, ladies, let’s move it, shall we?’ shouted the instructor.
Suzie felt exhausted, and still a little dizzy, but she took a deep breath. Shoulders back. Attagirl. As she shook her hips and mamboed right, then leapt to the left, her mind started wandering. What on earth had got into her last night? As the music changed to a Latin number, a moment of sheer self-loathing caught her unawares and then, oblivious to the lady to her left, she just stopped dancing as the enormity of her feelings overwhelmed her.
Suddenly, the lady to the left crashed right into her doing a grapevine and Suzie promptly fell over with a loud thud in front of the entire Zumba class.
*
Dawn approached her with two steaming cups of decaf skinny latte in the café – and an ice pack under her arm. ‘You silly moo.’ She smiled as she placed it on Suzie’s cheek. ‘What made you fall over?’ She squeezed her shoulder affectionately as she sat down.
Suzie smiled, rolled her eyes and looked out to purple hues of lavender in the gym gardens beyond the glass doors. The September sun was doing its best to sprinkle light on the late-flowering roses swaying in the breeze. She held the ice to her shoulder and winced.
‘Got lost in thought…’ She shrugged unconvincingly.
It wasn’t going to work on Dawn. ‘What’s wrong, sweetheart?’
She looked up at her and burst into tears. ‘I was just a bit stupid last night.’ Suzie let the tears fall. She wasn’t going to mention the park. That was what other people did. The sort of people you warn your children about. She wasn’t one of those, was she?
‘Is it the stupid kind of thing that I think it is?’ Dawn’s eyebrows were practically up by her hairline.
Suzie shook her head. ‘No. I just, I don’t know, was flirting madly with this guy – this clearly fertile guy, Dawn, and I, you know—’ She sniffed.
Dawn frowned. Her look said more than any reprimand would do. Then she reached over and put her hand over hers. ‘Look, it’s easy to get a bit carried away at these client bashes – not that I’d know! But, Suze… um…’
‘Nothing happened,’ Suzie said quickly. ‘I just wanted to – well, I remember thinking in the bar that he had kids, Dawn, so I…’
‘Wanted to sleep with him?’
Suzie hung her head. ‘Kind of,’ she mumbled. ‘I was drunk. Yesterday, I, I—’ She stopped herself. Mustn’t mention the toddler.
‘I keep thinking about it, about what might have happened… how, if I’d slept with him Dawn – I know, I know, but if I had, you know, maybe I’d be pregnant. He had kids, he—’ She looked over at Dawn for reassurance but saw her mouth open.
‘Oh, don’t be so judgemental – you’ve no idea and—’ She felt her throat tighten.
Dawn placed a hand on her arm and smiled. ‘I know, sweetheart, I don’t have any idea, it’s just—’
‘It’s all because we got an email from the IVF clinic,’ Suzie said sniffing, feeling Dawn squeeze her arm.
‘Go on.’
‘It’s our last frozen embryo, Dawn. It’s coming up to a year now. After Rex and I had that huge argument, they explained that they could keep our last frozen embryo for another year as we were undecided, but then we needed to make a decision. And if we both can’t agree, they destroy it. Destroy it! Imagine… Could you do that?’
‘What, sweetheart?’
‘Leave your last frozen embryo? I mean, just leave it, let it go to waste, let them get rid of it, after all, after all, you know – what we’ve been through. It could be a tiny—’
‘Suzie!’ Dawn said it like a schoolmistress, and it made Suzie jolt. ‘You and Rex swore you’d never do it again.’
‘He said he’d never go through it again… I just don’t know any more, especially now the deadline’s approaching…’ Suzie picked up her cup, then dropped it; it clattered noisily onto the saucer. Suddenly a wave of nausea swept over her. It was a stupid, stupid idea coming to the gym.
As much of a friend as Dawn was, she’d never, ever understand what she had been through. But her dear old uni friend had been so supportive in so many ways. It was one of the reasons Rex and Suzie had decided to move to Chesterbrook, because Dawn and Eric were down this way.
Suzie tried to take another sip of coffee and reflected o
n how Dawn had gone to all those Zumba classes, which she had hated when they’d both first joined the local gym. Dawn had admitted to Suzie that she’d only really gone for the company, for the coffee, to do something outside the house; that she’d kind of missed having a soulmate before Suzie had moved to the area, and after a good friend of hers, Lucy, had died, Dawn said she’d felt empty, but she’d cheerily gone along with it; smiled at Suzie and said she’d try something new.
Dawn had even gone on a stupid fertility diet with her, after her third round of IVF, all green juice and spinach omelettes – she was sure Dawn had cheated, but at least when they were together and round for a ‘coffee’ (green tea) Dawn had kept up the show.
Dawn interrupted her thoughts. ‘I said, I think you do need to go through the IVF again, my girl, especially after last night. The deadline approaching… and all those feelings – they haven’t gone away, have they?’ she said gently. ‘If it was me – and I know it isn’t – but if it was, for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t be able to stop until I had used that last embryo.’
Exactly. Suzie sat for a while letting the statement sink in, enjoying the comfort of what Dawn was saying. Her eyes fell on a woman feeding a baby on the other side of the café. She was smiling at the chubby cherub in the pram, spooning thick green mush into his mouth. The woman laughed as he gurgled and banged his hands on the sides of the stroller.
Just then, the woman’s phone went and she glanced at it on the table. She touched the screen quickly and then went back to the baby and blew a raspberry at him as he squealed and his eyes crinkled up in delight. Suddenly, another woman rushed in, slightly out of breath, wearing gym gear and carrying a water bottle. The woman who had been feeding the baby said loudly: ‘Look, Evie, here comes Mummy!’
