*
David called me. ‘J, you know that job in Paris? Well, it’s yours!’
‘What?’ I was in my orange kitchen making myself a cup of tea. ‘You’re kidding?’
‘They’re going to ring today – pretend I haven’t told you. I did some talking to all the right people. It’s all yours, darling. Pack your bags.’
I felt this surge of joy, as if I were on a fairground ride, success lifting me high into the sky, followed by the fast downhill plummet; the sinking realisation that I couldn’t go.
David was waiting for me to say something. ‘Josie? Do you know what this means? There were hundreds of applicants and they want you. I have every faith you can do it, so go off and be a beautiful Parisian chick. Oh, and ring me once in a while.’
‘I can’t.’
‘What do you mean, you can’t?’
I leant against the counter and shut my eyes.
‘You’re not staying because of that boyfriend of yours? Tell me you’re not? I mean, love is as sweet as honey but it doesn’t last.’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Only if you let it be. This is Paris, the city of love. You’ll have a ball, it’ll be fantastic for your career, just think of the …’
‘David!’ I had to stop him. ‘I’m pregnant.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I am lying in a white room, on a firm couch, looking at the screen with the nurse. Her dark hair is coiled into a bun and her skirt is as full as a ballgown’s.
‘Your child is nearly ready to come into this world,’ she says.
Finn is now by my side. ‘Who’s he?’ she asks, alarm in her voice.
‘He’s the father.’
‘I’m the father,’ he repeats proudly.
She veers back. ‘He’s not the dad.’ She looks scared of Finn.
‘Yes, he is.’
‘No, he can’t be.’ There is venom in her voice now. ‘This man is the father.’ She turns to the screen and a picture of a man’s face flashes in front of us.
‘You’re lying,’ Finn says, but the face continues to flash before us. The image seems to be growing bigger and bigger until I can see his face on every wall. I look up and it’s on the ceiling too. Each way I turn he’s there.
‘Josie? Tell her she’s lying.’
I can’t. I open my mouth but nothing comes out, just air.
The nurse moves closer to us. Now she’s dressed in a long black gown and her hair is long and flowing and black too. ‘This man isn’t the father. Tell him the truth, Josie.’ She turns round and points to the screen once more, as if it’s a blackboard. ‘He’s the father.’ She starts to roar with laughter. She is turning into the Wicked Witch of the West.
The face is Clarky’s.
I wake up in a sweat, disorientated. I turn, expecting him to be by my side. Instead there’s an empty space next to me. Relief sets in. I look at my watch. It’s only midnight. I walk into the bathroom and splash my face with cold water. When I look in the mirror I’m shocked. My skin seems to have taken on an unattractive tinge of grey. I pat one cheek. I feel puffy in the face; in fact, puffy all round. No matter how often people say you’re pregnant, not fat, it doesn’t matter. I was with Tiana today and felt like an elephant next to her. I must be at least twice her size.
I put on my dressing gown and walk slowly downstairs. I find Finn scrunched up on the sofa again, one arm raised above his head just like George sleeps, the television still on, neat gin in a tumbler by his feet. I turn the TV off before trying to wake him. This is becoming a regular ritual. ‘Come to bed.’
He half stirs.
‘Finn, it’s late.’ I tap his shoulder, hard this time. ‘Wake up!’
He rubs one eye and squints. ‘I was watching that.’
‘You were fast asleep.’
He yawns and stretches out both arms. I kiss him on the cheek. ‘Come to bed with me,’ I say more gently. ‘I miss you up there.’ I kiss him on the lips. Run a hand through his hair.
‘Josie,’ he says.
‘What? Come on, we haven’t slept together for ages.’ And I don’t just mean sex. I like lying next to him in bed. I kiss him again.
‘Josie!’ He extricates himself from me as if I’m some kind of irritant. ‘Stop it.’ Next he’ll be getting out the female killer spray.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m not in the mood, OK.’ He stands up and turns the television on again.
‘Fine,’ I say sharply. ‘I’ll take me and my clearly unattractive self upstairs.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that. If a guy doesn’t want to do it, that makes you suddenly unattractive?’
‘It would be nice to go to bed together every once in a while, that’s all.’
‘I’ll be up in a minute.’
I know he won’t. He’ll fall asleep again. ‘Don’t do me any favours.’
‘Josie!’
‘Quiet, you’ll wake George. Turn the lights off and turn the volume down,’ I demand before going back to bed on my own and into the darkness of my dream.
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘I haven’t been with a man since my husband left four years ago, not that he was much of a man,’ Aggie reflects as we stand at the school gates. It’s a good place to talk, rather like being in a car because there’s no escape.
Clarky and Aggie have been dating now for two months.
‘You haven’t had any other relationship?’ I am trying hard not to sound too surprised.
‘No. I told myself I had enough on my plate with work, El, moving house. I made myself believe that no one else would want the responsibility of looking after my boy. I built up a pyramid of excuses when the only thing really stopping me was fear.’
‘Of being hurt again?’
She nods. ‘I know I come across all talkative and full of confidence, but inside, well, I’m scared shitless. How sad, hey?’
‘It’s not sad. You’ve been through a lot. Believe me, sometimes I’m scared shitless too.’
‘About what?’
I tell Aggie how scared I am of having another child; of how Finn has been working longer hours than usual until at times I feel as if I’m leading a single life. ‘And when we are together each conversation is interrupted with, “Don’t do that, George,” or “Have you brushed your teeth, George?” Christ, I bore even myself to tears!’
Lately I have been thinking about Paris and how my life might have turned out if I’d gone. It’s a strange thought, putting myself in another country with a different set of people. Would I still be with Finn? ‘When I was a little girl I was convinced I’d be running my own gallery by the time I was twenty-one! Do you ever think about all the things you could have done with your life?’
Aggie laughs hollowly. ‘’Course. I know this sounds morbid, but after I divorced I wrote my own obituary.’
‘That is morbid.’
‘But it makes sense. It’s thinking about all the things I want to be recognised for. I always thought I’d own a restaurant by now, Mexican food. I’d have brightly coloured walls with chillies and garlic and peppers painted on them, and the place would always be packed at the weekends with live music, glam people and all that jazz. And what do I do instead? Cook up the odd quiche or lasagne for someone’s fridge.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re bringing Eliot up on your own, no mean feat, OK?’
‘Thanks. You’re happy, though, with Finn? Apart from the long hours and all that?’
I don’t tell her that I actually asked myself if I married for the right reason. It had just been a stupid, flash thought and the result of spending too much time on my own. I remember my dream again and seeing Clarky’s face.
‘We’re going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment,’ is all I say. ‘Make the most of it, OK? It’s so nice when you first start going out with someone. You get married and then no snogs. Nothing.’
‘Why not? Finn’s a fucking Adonis!’
‘O
K, I’m exaggerating a bit. What’s happened to your ex?’
‘I only hear from the sod occasionally. His new wife doesn’t want him to have anything to do with us and he’s too weak to go against her.’
‘It sounds like you’re better off without him.’
‘I don’t mind for myself, but what about El? He’s grown up without a dad. George doesn’t know how lucky he is.’
‘I’m sorry, it really … stinks.’ I can’t think of a better word.
‘My mother used to tell me I was a bad picker of men, that some people have that quality. But with Clarky, it’s different. He’s so artistic … a good cook. Makes the best curry, you know?’
‘I know,’ I say, ‘he used to make me …’
‘I can talk to him,’ she continues, ‘I mean, a man who actually communicates? My ex was like a sodding brick. Clarky and I love having breakfast in bed at the weekends. He brings me up warm croissants and coffee. And he’s wonderful with Eliot. You know, with discipline and trying to talk to him about men’s stuff. I know El plays up and can be very naughty …’
That’s a serious understatement, I think. He should be called Damien.
‘I reckon in his own way he’s punishing me for getting rid of his dad. He needs a man’s influence. Clarky plays cards with him and takes him to the shops and … fuck, I’m sorry, Josie, listen to me going on and on when you know him better than me anyway.’
‘It’s fine,’ I assure her. ‘It’s good to know he’s happy too.’
‘He talks so much about you. Sometimes I have to tell him to stop or he’ll make me jealous. Nothing ever happened between you two, did it?’
‘No.’ The question breaks the easy flow between us. It isn’t the first time she’s asked me either.
‘You’ve known him for years. He said you went travelling together?’
‘We’ve always been friends.’ I smile but there are tears in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she says, trying to find a tissue in her bag. ‘For the first time in years I’ve found a great man and a nice friend who makes standing at the school gates fun, and look at me, I’m a bloody mess.’
‘Here.’ I hand her one of my tissues.
‘Why are you crying, Josie?’
‘I … don’t … know. I’m pregnant?’ That’s my answer to any emotional outburst. I am thinking about how hard life has been for Aggie, of George without Finn, of how my life would be without my mother or father, and how much I miss my friend Clarky. The last time we’d spoken I was certain he was in bed with Aggie. I had wanted to talk to him after an argument I’d had with Finn but Clarky told me I should be talking to my husband about it, not him. He was right but his assertiveness had made me feel uneasy.
I miss the feeling of a new relationship, the fire, the passion and excitement; my whole body tingling from head to toe with the anticipation of just a kiss. I bite my lip to fight back more tears. Aggie’s face crumples in front of me again. ‘Look at us!’ We start to laugh uncontrollably. ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with him.’ She blows her nose loudly. ‘He hasn’t even had any relationship in the past to haunt me. This one boyfriend I had, way before I married, actually kept a photo of his ex on the bedside table. I kept on hiding it but back she came, like a ghost. I mean, talk about how to make a girlfriend paranoid! Clarky’s past is as clean as a whistle. He doesn’t seem to have had any girlfriends before me.’
‘No,’ I reply simply, ‘no one serious anyway.’
‘We’re not very different then. We’ve both been lonely for too long. But I don’t know what it is …’ She looks straight at me with needle-sharp eyes. ‘I keep on thinking, here’s this great man, who wants to be with me and take on El. Tell me, surely there has to be a catch?’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
To my Darling Finn,
The news of your engagement has made me so very happy. I remember liking Josie very much when we went punting. I welcome her into our family with open arms. You are the most important boy in my world and your happiness means everything to me.
I hope Josie will stop working when you get married. She’s a big girl, not dainty, but she is very beautiful. She had lovely big blue eyes. Inquisitive. I remember them.
I think she will make a wonderful wife. A good faithful companion to you, Finn. I hope you will be as happy as I was with my dear Bobby. I think about him every day. I think about that beautiful boat of ours, the Blue Banana, and all those lovely cruises and adventures we had. I hope your father pulls himself together and comes to the wedding. I shall have words with him. And I suppose you have to invite Gwen the Gold Digger.
I know you must be very busy with the marital plans as it’s not long now until the big day, and I know how popular you are too, but my garden chair collapsed and I wanted you to come and fix it. When you bring Josie down to lunch, can you bring your toolbox?
Lots of love,
Granny
P.S. What’s with the sudden rush to get married so soon? You haven’t got her in trouble, have you? Sit on your digits if you get the urge.
P.P.S. I hope she’s bought a dress and that she’s going to cover her shoulders in church.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I walk downstairs with a large basket of dirty laundry. Finn left today. He’s gone to the British Cardiac Society Conference. With Alessia.
‘Do you have to go?’ I had asked, knowing that of course he did and I was simply trying my luck. I remembered he’d once told me that these conferences were an excuse for doctors to play away. ‘Although of course I don’t,’ he’d added with that familiar smile. Drug companies sponsor the event and the doctors get wined and dined like celebrities for five days.
‘You’ll miss one of my antenatal classes,’ I’d complained. ‘You missed the last one too and I felt such a dill not having you there. Honestly, there was everyone else lined up with their birthing partners, huffing and puffing to get on to the crest of the wave. And there was me, a big fat moron on her own.’
‘My lovely fat moron,’ he’d corrected me. ‘I love going to this conference, J. I get to learn about all the new procedures and research. There are going to be talks on defibrillators this year.’
‘Oh, well, in that case …’ I’d rolled my eyes. ‘Is Alessia going?’
‘Think so,’ he’d replied.
I put the laundry basket down at the foot of the stairs, exhausted by the exertion already. I look at myself in the mirror and turn away, depressed. It’s high time I met Alessia. In my mind she is impossibly beautiful, one of those girls whose entrance into a room demands attention. She’s graceful, the kind of girl who’d never lose her keys or trip over the pavement. Yet she can be one of the boys, too, when appropriate. She’d love football and wouldn’t ask stupid questions about the sidelines or free kicks, and of course she’s clever and funny, the last two qualities not being essential but great plus points, like the bonus ball after winning the Lottery.
And now she is on an aeroplane with Finn. My husband. This slim and glamorous vixen who no doubt always wears matching lacy underwear. They are probably ordering their gin and tonics and tucking into their roasted peanuts this very minute while I’m about to tackle his dirty washing.
My blood pressure rises. And I am allowing this? WHY? What can I do? I’m sure she’s not that pretty, I think, trying to calm myself down. Finn would never cheat on me while he’s away. He’d never cheat on me full stop. I trust him implicitly. But then I think of the other night, when he made it quite clear he didn’t want to hold me or even kiss me. He could barely look at me. I stare at my reflection again. I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. I hate the extra weight; I hate the swollen currant-bun ankles; I hate the sweat. I’m even developing the beginnings of varicose veins. Is this what Finn sees? No wonder he couldn’t wait to hotfoot it to this conference with Alessia. I have another image of sunglasses perched neatly on the top of her head, keeping her long mane of glossy dark hair away from her eyes.
Forget about it. It’s purel
y professional. Get on with your day. Put that washing in the machine.
*
‘Me and machines, we’re not a great partnership,’ Mrs B says. My washing machine has broken down.
She presses the ‘on’ button again. ‘My husband used to tell me I only had to touch something electrical and it broke down.’
‘The machine has got to work.’ I crouch down and my knees crack like splintered wood. ‘I feel like an old pregnant lady, Mrs B. My pelvis is so sore and I get terrible groin cramps too. So glamorous. I haven’t been doing my painting, which always makes me feel crotchety, and I’m shouting at Finn like it’s all his fault!’
I wipe my forehead and press the ‘on’ button again but nothing happens. Dead. No flash of life.
I have to wash George’s school clothes and games kit. Thankfully I am working from home today but I have a meeting with Neil tomorrow and this is the only suit that fits me now and it needs to be clean. I press the button and wait. ‘That’s weird,’ I say. ‘I don’t understand. Everything’s switched on at the wall. A fuse hasn’t blown?’
‘No, all the lights are on.’
I press the power button again, holding my breath. Nothing happens. I have to stop myself from asking Mrs B what she has done to make the thing die. It has never broken down before. ‘I haven’t got time for this,’ I shriek, my voice piercing the walls. ‘I’ve got so much to do!’
Mrs B attempts to calm me down. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll work it out.’
The phone rings and I pick it up quickly. It’s Finn, telling me he’s just arrived. ‘I can’t talk now.’ I can hear lots of voices in the background.
‘What’s wrong? Is George OK?’
‘He’s fine.’
‘So what’s up?’
‘The washing machine isn’t working.’
‘Oh, God, is that all?’
I slam the phone down. Mrs B fetches me a glass of water. Five seconds later the phone rings again. I snatch it from the receiver. I can feel those X-ray eyes watching me. ‘Come on, Josie, you didn’t have to hang up. It’s not exactly a life or death situation, is it? Get someone round to fix it. What else is wrong? You’re nowhere near eggs, are you?’
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