‘Finn, behave! I’m being serious, I want to know,’ I said, though I made no attempt to move his hand.
‘OK. My father, Nicholas, lives for success, money and work. When he was in his teens his father used to beat him with a wooden spoon, literally, saying, “You have to work hard to provide for your family otherwise you are worth nothing.”’
‘That’s pretty extreme.’
‘Dad’s father was a piano tuner, spent all his time away from home tuning the damn things, but didn’t make any money. He was terrified my father would turn out to be poor like him. Dad won this scholarship to a private school but they couldn’t even afford to pay for his school meals. My father’s biggest fear in life has been not being able to provide for Ed and me. And Mum, of course.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He set up his own IT consultancy company and took the business to America when I was five. We lived in Connecticut. Mum hated it. It was in the middle of nowhere, she was lonely. I don’t think she even liked looking after Ed and me. That generation often had children because they thought they should, not because they wanted to. She certainly didn’t want us.’
‘But that’s terrible! I can’t imagine having a child and not being interested in him or her, loving them more than anything in the world.’
He laughed ironically. ‘Well, the only person Mum cares about is herself.’ His voice started to tremble, the hurt coming from deep within, a place I wanted to reach. ‘My dad got back late from work one day and by then she’d attacked the booze cabinet and was shouting about how miserable she was in this “godforsaken place”.’
‘Did you hear all of this?’
‘It was hard not to. Dad kept on saying, “Gwen dear, let’s not discuss this in front of the children.” He couldn’t see the problem. He was the provider, why couldn’t she be the stay-at-home mum?’
‘So what happened this time?’
‘She’s left him, for good. She’s done it before, for the same man … Richard. I was fifteen then.’ He let out a deep breath. ‘I was walking down the corridor when this man strolls past me wearing my father’s purple dressing gown. He says, “Do you have any shampoo?”’
‘No way. Where was your dad anyway?’
‘On a business trip. I confronted them both of course.’
‘What did you say?’
‘“What are you doing on my father’s side of the bed?”’ Finn said it with such clarity, as if he could see his adulterous mother right in front of him. ‘“Who is he, Mum?” I asked. “Oh,” she says, “this is Dicky. He’s a member of my bridge club.”
‘She said it with no hint of apology. It was as if she felt she’d suffered enough in her marriage, why shouldn’t she have some fun now? I never said anything to Dad.’
‘What about Ed?’
‘I didn’t tell him either. It’s strange, we’re twins but I’ve always felt like the older brother, like I’ve needed to protect him. He’s much nicer than me.’ Finn laughed. ‘He never says a bad word about anyone, not even Mum. Ed soon found out, though. I was sixteen and we were about to go to Dorset for the weekend. Mum came into my bedroom while Ed and I were packing and said, “I’ve got something to tell you both. I don’t love your father anymore and I won’t be coming to Dorset.”’
‘She walked out on you? I don’t know how she could do that. How?’
‘Don’t know. Ed cried. I couldn’t show what I felt, I just stared at her.’
‘But then she went back to your dad?’
‘Mum’s as restless as a butterfly. Dad thinks she’s got Attention Deficit Disorder. She goes back to him, he forgives her, and then she leaves him again. Oh, Granny hates her for that, calls her “Gwen the Gold Digger”. The thing is, Dad still loves her.’
‘Is that it now, for good? I mean, how much can your father take?’
‘I hope so.’ Finn was shaking his head. ‘I called Mum and told her I was going to give up Cambridge, that I was worried about him. “Go to the doctor’s,” she said, “take some happy pills and get on with it.”’
‘Finn, I’m so sorry. How’s Ed taking it?’
‘OK. He’s busy doing some drama course in London. He has the nice bit of Mum in him, the flightiness. If it tears him up inside, well, he hides it. But I can’t forgive her and I could never forgive someone who did that to me. You have a good time before you get married, go out, get laid … Sorry,’ he quickly said to me, ‘you know what I mean. Just don’t get married if you’re not prepared to stay faithful.’
I considered this. ‘OK, but what if you still loved that person with all your heart and they were truly sorry? If it was just the one time and it was a terrible mistake? Could you forgive them then?’
‘No. You get only one chance. What?’
‘I’m surprised, that’s all.’
‘You see people like my parents and you realise you have the choice of being like them, because that’s all you know, or being positively the other way. I know which I want to be. What about your parents?’
‘The only drama might be Dad putting one of his maroon socks into the white wash.’
‘I crave boring.’ Finn laughed. ‘Mum probably had all these romantic fantasies about being married. Dad was her first love. She expected excitement, not a man who worked every minute of the day.’ He opened a plastic box with a chocolate brownie in it and offered me a bite. ‘Important lesson, Josie Greenwood!’
‘What’s that?’ I took a large one.
‘Don’t marry the first person you sleep with.’ He smiled sheepishly at me.
‘But I was hoping we could set a date?’
‘You wouldn’t cheat on someone when you were married, would you?’
‘I wouldn’t cheat on someone when I was dating,’ I said, ‘but you have no problem with that.’ I got out of bed but felt a strong arm pull me back. ‘Let go!’ I said, trying to wriggle free.
‘It meant nothing.’ I escaped his grip but he leant over me, both arms imprisoning my body.
‘So why did you do it? You’re coming over all sanctimonious now but …’
‘I felt so guilty, J, that’s why I couldn’t even talk to you at the club. I was angry with myself, not you.’ He kissed one of my cheeks. ‘It was stupid.’ He kissed the other. ‘I regretted it the moment it happened.’
‘Was it Dominique?’
‘Yes.’ I tried to move but he clamped his hands round my arms. ‘I swear it was nothing. With you, it’s different.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Christ, Josie, I’ve never felt like this.’
I put a hand over his mouth and he kissed my palm. I wanted to absorb every feature on his face. His light brown eyes, soft hair, the shadow that fell across his cheekbone, his small neat ears, the scar to the left of his eye, each contour and shift of expression, the way a smile lit his face as if someone was about to tell him the most exciting story. His hands that were always so busy drumming on coffee tables, playing a record, lighting a cigarette, touching me. I wanted to take him with me.
‘You’re amazing,’ he said.
‘Carry on.’
‘Beautiful … smart … strong.’
We both sat up now. I held my arms around my knees, cold at the thought that this was all about to end. Was I ever going to see him again?
He handed me an empty matchbox. ‘You’re going away present,’ he said.
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have. A whole matchbox.’
‘Open it.’
I slid open the drawer. Inside he had written, ‘I love you’.
I held his face in my hands. ‘I love you too.’
‘What do we do now?’ he said. ‘Write to each other?’ There was a glimmer of hope in that. ‘Maybe we can make this work?’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
‘Clarky, I know she’s with you,’ Finn says on the answer machine. He pauses. ‘Ask her to come home. Please, Josie. I’m sorry.’
The phone rings again. It clicks into answer-machine mode. ‘H
i, Justin, it’s Kelly.’
‘What’s she like?’ I ask when she’s finished leaving a longwinded message about meeting up.
‘OK.’
‘What does she do?’
‘Er, marketing or something.’
‘You were clearly paying attention. Is she pretty?’
‘She’s all right.’
‘Clarky, make the most of this time. How I’d love to be single again. Want to swap roles?’
‘And be Finn’s wife? No, thanks.’
I kiss him on the cheek. ‘I should go. Why are you always so together, Clarky?’
‘Hardly,’ he mutters.
I look around the kitchen which is painted a pale blue. Nothing out of place, the latest gadget on every surface. This time it’s a very high-tech wine-bottle opener although Clarky doesn’t drink wine. I put on my coat. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blue. I mean, really blue.’
‘I’ve had my moments.’ He looks at me. ‘Maybe it’s plain sailing because there’s nothing in my boat that I care enough about to make it rock? You and Finn, you’re living, even if it is stormy at times. I’m just drifting, not sure what matters to me.’
I take his hand firmly and kiss it. ‘You are my rock, Justin Clarke.’ He shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other. ‘Thanks for tonight. I wish Finn understood me as well as you do.’
‘Let me walk you.’
‘No, it’s not far.’
Clarky hands me an umbrella. ‘Here, take this.’
I am about to leave when he says, ‘Can I ask you a simple question, Josie?’
I nod. ‘As long as it is.’
‘Do you still love Finn?’
*
I run down the floodlit street as fast as I can, avoiding the puddles. There are plenty of people still out, newsagents still open, restaurants lit by candlelight. Do you still love Finn? I had laughed out loud. ‘You call that simple!’
‘Yes. If you love someone there shouldn’t be any hesitation, should there?’
*
‘Why did you have to run to Clarky?’ Finn asks me when I return. I found George asleep in his school uniform; he hadn’t let his father undress him.
‘You made me so angry, I can’t speak to you when you’re like that.’
‘But don’t you understand that running to Clarky every time we have a problem doesn’t make it go away?’
I let out a strangled cry. ‘Well, don’t you get it that I wouldn’t need to if you weren’t so pig-headed all the time? You haven’t asked me about my meeting, about George’s headmaster. All you do is shout and criticise the moment you come home. You don’t listen to me!’
‘And, let me guess,’ Finn says in defeated tones, ‘Clarky does?’
We both sit down on the edge of the bed. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbles. ‘I know I fly off the handle sometimes.’
‘I hate us fighting.’
‘How was the meeting?’
‘Do you love me, Finn?’
‘What?’ He looks as if I’ve asked him something impossible.
‘If you love someone there shouldn’t be any hesitation, should there?’
‘We say it to George all the time, without even thinking,’ I go on. ‘Do you love me?’
‘Of course I do,’ he finally says.
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Can we go to the Science Museum?’
‘No! Stand still, George.’ I am trying to put on the fifth tie I’ve bought him in a year.
‘Emma, does Nat lose ties? They’re either chewed to death or they disappear into the vortex. How does this happen? How?’
‘Ha! The chewing tie syndrome. Nat used to chew and suck his like a stick of rock. Only buy the cheap ones now.’
The doorbell rings. Mrs B bustles inside, wearing her parka coat with the fur lining. I hug her tightly. ‘I’m glad you’re back.’
‘It’s good to be home. I missed my bed, the fireplace, and my home-made celery soup. Funny the things you miss, isn’t it?’
‘Mum’s having a baby, Mrs B. When’s it ready? It’s taking ages.’ George picks up his cold fruit drink. ‘Ugh!’ He starts hitting his forehead. ‘Brain freeze.’
‘You’re pregnant?’ She looks at George to see if he’s joking.
I cannot miss the flash of horror on her face, as if a sharp pebble has just hit her, but she manages to compose herself quickly, forcing her features into a smile. ‘Congratulations. How many weeks?’ she asks.
‘Sixteen. I’ll tell you all about it later. Right, George, where’s your homework?’
‘I don’t want to go to school.’
‘Why not?’ Mrs B asks. ‘I strayed off once, must have been about four at the time, and the police found me at the local infants’ school. All I wanted to do was learn like my sister.’
George’s eyes are not focusing on Mrs B any more, his mind moving on to something else as he turns away from her. I call it the ticking clock; his face starts turning away from somebody in a clockwise, or anticlockwise direction, depending on what it is distracting him. This time it’s Rocky pattering into the kitchen. Yet Mrs B boldly carries on. ‘I didn’t like it that she was learning all these new and exciting things and leaving me behind. I hated staying at home.’
‘I haven’t got any friends.’
‘You’ve got Eliot,’ I say.
‘He doesn’t count.’
‘Why not?’
‘He’s in a wheelchair, Mrs B,’ George explains, ‘he doesn’t play football or anything. We play together but that’s because he hasn’t got any real friends either. He doesn’t have proper legs.’
‘That doesn’t mean he can’t be your friend, George,’ she argues firmly.
‘He’s called “Ginger” at school. His hair is the colour of a carrot!’ He starts to snort with laughter.
‘You need to respect Eliot for who he is, now don’t you? Red hair can be very attractive.’
‘Paul’s having a party at McDonald’s with Ronald the Clown and everything but I’m not invited,’ George goes on matter-of-factly. ‘Eliot isn’t invited either.’
‘Well, that’s because we’re doing something else,’ I improvise.
‘Can I have a party, Mum? It’s my birthday soon.’ He starts to hum again. This is absurd. George says he has no friends and in the next breath he wants a party. Finn and I had planned to take him to the cinema but if he wants a party …
‘Your shoes aren’t on properly.’ I watch Mrs B take them off effortlessly. The battered leather is squashed down like a flat tyre around the heels because he can never be bothered to untie the laces first. ‘Now, let’s do this right,’ she mutters as he lifts his foot obediently towards her. She slots one back onto his foot and pulls the laces tightly towards her. ‘There we go, don’t want you falling over now and knocking that pretty head.’ She ruffles his hair like a favourite pet and he looks at her with fascination, his brown eyes opened wide. ‘You see, the slipper fits Cinderella.’ I notice we all smile at that. ‘And Cinderella can have a party if she goes to school.’
*
‘I had a call from Neil,’ Ruby says the moment I walk into the office carrying a hot cup of tea. My heartbeat quickens.
‘Why did you take your son to the goddamn meeting?’
Is that the flicker of a smile on Natalie’s face? ‘I’m sorry but I had no choice, there was an emergency at school.’
Already her eyes have glazed over. Children aren’t real to Ruby. They are mere inconveniences. ‘I’m running a business. I am a professional. I thought you were ready for the responsibility?’
‘I am.’
‘Can you promise to give me one hundred and ten per cent over the next year? That’s all I need to know. Natalie’s on board, aren’t you, Natalie?’
‘Yes, definitely. One hundred and ten per cent.’
‘I promise I’ll do my absolute best.’ How am I going to tell her I’m pregnant now? I know she can’t sack me but she’ll start giving me the mundane jobs just be
cause. She’ll think baby-free Natalie is a safer bet.
‘I’m sorry I lost the client, Ruby.’
Natalie’s by the window cutting some card with a scalpel. I can tell from her expression she is enjoying this. She thinks she’s going to take over my job. No way. ‘But I won’t let you down again, Ruby.’
‘Well,’ she spins round in her chair, ‘the funny thing is, I spoke to Neil – and Gem Communications won the pitch!’
‘We have! I don’t believe it!’
‘Shit,’ Natalie says, holding up a cut finger. She finds the first-aid box which we keep at the top of the cupboard, above the filing system.
‘I had to do a lot of sweet-talking, mind. This can’t happen again, Josie. There’s only so much I can do to save your pretty arse. I said I employed only the most talented designers, and … well, he has rather a soft spot for me.’
There’s a knock on the door. It’s Diana who controls the switchboard and generally looks after the entire office block. ‘Ms Gold?’
‘Yes? What is it? I’m busy. I’m about to get my nails done.’
‘Sorry. Does anyone in here have a black Audi, registration number CR8 TV?’
‘That would be me,’ Ruby answers proudly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. ‘Brand new that baby. CR8 TV, get it, girls?’ She’s nodding vigorously, waiting for our explosive reaction.
I look blank. Natalie says nothing.
‘Um … anyway,’ Diana tries to go on.
‘CR8 TV. Come on, Josie.’ Ruby hits her hand against the desk. ‘You must get it?’
‘Oh,’ I force myself to laugh. ‘Creative … CR8 TV … yes, wow, you personalised it. Clever.’
She chuckles. ‘Well, I thought so.’
‘I’m afraid it’s just been clamped,’ Diana finishes, trying hard not to show a hint of satisfaction.
Ruby tries to rush out of the door but she can’t run in her tight skirt. ‘Oh, my God!’ she cries down the corridor. ‘Someone, stop the bastards! Stop them!’
We all remain poised, trying hard not to make a squeak until it is safe to do so. One … two … three … Then Diana and I burst into laughter.
You, Me and Him Page 15
