She looks at me over her shoulder and I see she looks bold and strong while all I can do is stand here, weak and feeble and a broken man. I hate that anything ever hurt her. I want to wrap her in cotton wool for the rest of our lives but I know I can’t do that.
“Nobody can ever truly step into another’s shoes,” she says, “and you may never really understand your mother. Perhaps she was too damn proud. She didn’t want you to see her weak or lesser or reduced. Maybe her mind wasn’t what it once was and she was telling Lily things without really thinking it through. They say that when people know they’re going, the unfinished business comes out in strange ways. You have no idea what it feels like to be dying because you’re far from it. You have the most beautiful wife-to-be and a baby growing in her belly. She tells me you’ve had offers of work all over the place and you’re too scared to accept them because you’re not sure you got that part on merit. Well, let me tell you, if you would just reel your neck back in and stop with the Edgar Allen Poe act, you might actually see that you’re not a dark bastard but one who has been trapped beneath this belief that you must be for your mother not to have shown that she cared. The truth, dare I say, might be so obvious that you just can’t bear to admit it.”
He lifts his eyes and stares at her. “No.”
She reaches out and touches his cheek. “Theo, you’re just too much like her.”
He clutches his hair in his hands and cries out in pain. I’ve never seen anyone like this before. It’s like so many years of hurt are bubbling out of him all at once and Lily starts weeping on the couch, unable to move because she’s as helpless as I am, watching our broken lovers.
I go to Lily and pull her into me, holding her while she quietly sobs against my chest.
“Love is a funny thing,” she whispers, “we show it in different ways. We lie… like I did… because I was terrified of losing my husband. Because people had led me to believe I was worth nothing… that he would undoubtedly leave me. All that usual bollocks. But Theo, she loved him but she left him for your sake. Trust me, if you’ve never felt love in your life and then you suddenly feel it in every corner of your entire soul… it’s scary.”
He lifts his eyes to hers and nods. “I know.”
“You don’t trust it and you run from it because it must be too good to be true,” she soothes, “it must be a figment because all the treasures and all the experiences of life, no matter how grand or extravagant or exotic, pale in comparison.”
“Yes,” he agrees.
“And she couldn’t cope with how much she loved you, I don’t think. It cut her frail, fragmented heart too deeply. Like it cuts my father to love me. He finds it easier to throw money at me because that doesn’t involve having to really look at me and see I’m just like her.”
Theo goes quiet and catches his breath, wiping the last tears away.
“This is your life, Theo. Your time. She passes on the baton. Don’t hide in the shadows of your fears. Embrace that you’re as fragile and exposed and as human as she was. If life has taught me anything recently it’s that we don’t grow in the shadows. Even in the darkest times if we just seek out that tiny bit of light, it can bring us back to our true selves.”
“You’re right,” he says, “about everything.”
“Just forgive her,” Susan whispers, “for the complex life she led and the extraordinary love she hid from you. Maybe it wasn’t conventional or pretty or even moral. But I bet she carried it to her grave.”
Theo stands up and takes her hands, holding them inside his tight grip. “I see why Adam married you.”
She giggles and then barks with laughter. “Yes!”
He turns around and digs into the bags we brought back from the house with us. He unwraps the ornaments and allows Susan to look at them. They are two silver ballet dancers and don’t look particularly precious.
“These are worth a couple of grand each at least. My mother was always telling me so that I didn’t send them flying off the fireplace when I was messing about around the house. They were made in Paris by some master and are very rare, apparently.” He closes Susan’s fists around them and looks across at Lily, who nods. “We want you to have these for your next IVF. And if there’s any money left over, please take pasty cheeks over there on holiday or something.”
She’s so touched and almost drops them. “No, Theo. No. They’re too precious. I could never sell these. Look at them.”
“Then keep them,” he says, “and just live in faith that no matter what, he will love you.”
She keeps hold of the ornaments even as they hug it out. “Thank you, Theo. I think I’ll keep them. One day, when you have a daughter and hopefully once we do, too then they can be given to the girls once they’re older. Two pieces of the same set.”
“If that’s what you want,” he says.
“I don’t want anything more,” she whispers, placing them down carefully on the coffee table.
Susan comes back to the sofa and wraps her arms around Lily from the other side. Theo reaches into his pocket and tells us, “There’s a call I need to make. Will you both look after my love?”
“Always,” Susan says, and I realise all the nakedness this morning was really just a sign that the two girls are friends and trust one another.
I think Susan and Lily bonded over their yearning for a family and throughout the aftermath of Lily’s miscarriage, I feel my wife must have been there for Lily in ways I’ve yet to understand. Just when I thought I couldn’t love her any more… she goes and proves me wrong all over again. And another thing, these times we’ve shared with Lily and Theo recently… I feel we’re bonded for life now.
Chapter Twelve
The funeral has arrived. It’s a Tuesday. I’ve given myself the afternoon off whereas Susie worked from home this morning and took half a day’s annual leave for this afternoon. Theo said we didn’t have to come but we’re here, if not for him, then for Lily. Allegra’s funeral announcement asked for family flowers only and donations to arts charities or the cancer hospice that looked after her. She forbade anyone from wearing black and Theo warned me the service won’t be traditional.
Theo’s wearing black but everyone else around us is wearing something colourful. Even Lily, who is still not really showing, is wearing a navy dress with white prints and white platform boots. Theo looks dramatic with his hair slicked back and his pencil-thin tie seeming to go on forever. My wife didn’t feel entirely comfortable in anything bright so she’s wearing navy, too. I have very few suits but I do own a nice charcoal one which I’m wearing today.
Everyone knew Allegra. Even if they didn’t mean to, they knew of her. She was renowned in these parts for her outfits, her E-type Jag, her broad-rimmed hats and her various shades of lipstick.
Susie and I stand watching as people turn up at the crematorium, seeking out Theo and telling him how sorry they are. I can’t tell if he’s graciously accepting their condolence or not. He’s too good an actor. He might be acting his arse off and the truth might be that he hates this whole thing and just wants it over with. The coffin has already gone inside but so many people are still arriving, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be getting indoors anytime soon.
To my shock, a limousine pulls up and a familiar figure gets out.
“Oh my god, Suze.”
She looks at what I just saw. “Isn’t that your friend…?”
“Tom, yeah. Oh my god. Come on.”
We hurry to catch Tom before he disappears into the ether yet again, but while we’re rushing over, Theo spots him too and gets there before we do.
Friends are reunited and Tom holds Theo’s head against his shoulder. I see Theo’s face crumple and it’s like he can’t believe it. I can’t either.
Lily’s next and Tom buries his face in her hair, holding her tight for a long time, whispering something against her face. She nods and it looks like she’s thanking him for coming.
We get there just as they’re pulling apart.
We slam together and he throws his arms around me like a vice, gripping me so tight. Tom, the genius floppy-haired cunt we all love to hate because he’s rich, doesn’t give a shit and will always have an air of mystery because he’s too clever to ever let people get really close, except perhaps Theo. Those two were as thick as thieves at one time.
Tom pulls away and looks over my shoulder at Susan. “Is this Mrs Hartley? Wow, Ads.”
He saunters over, shakes her hand and kisses her cheek. “I am so sorry I missed the big day but I do have a wedding gift I’ve been holding onto.”
He reaches into his inside pocket and hands me an envelope. “You two open it later, okay?”
“I hope you don’t mind, mate,” he addresses Theo, “but I rounded up as many as I could. Is it okay if we let them out?”
Theo looks perplexed and Tom gestures at the limo. Tom takes the initiative and opens the door to the vehicle.
Out pops Saskia and Marie – still no Chloe. Thank god. I feel my wife breathe a sigh of relief beside me. No Paul, either I notice.
Some other people Theo and Tom were friends with down in Oxford during their time there leave the vehicle too and Theo hugs each and every one, thanking them so much for coming – they really didn’t have to.
I spot Lily warmly hugging Saskia and Marie, telling them, “It’s been too long… I know, I know… no, we shouldn’t leave it so long… Yes, we got engaged and we’re due in September.”
Once Lily turns her back to talk to other guests, she doesn’t see Saskia and Marie turn to look at one another out of concern for their friend. Theo never really left any lasting impression on those two.
“Okay, it’s time to go in,” Theo says, and I hang back with Susan for a moment, letting all the older people go on ahead and file indoors. We can take the standing room if all the seats get taken.
Once Theo and Lily are indoors and it’s just a few of us waiting outside to get in, Tom turns to me, “I tried Paul but he’s still in South Korea. He sent some money for the bowl, though.”
“What?” I almost gasp. “Don’t tell Theo, he will tear it up.”
Tom looks at me, puzzled. “What did I miss?”
“Short version… Paul completely fucked over Lily. Theo’s always loved Lily. Now they’re engaged and having a baby. Theo hates Paul’s fucking guts, mate.”
“Fuck. I’ve been away so long.”
“Yeah, you twat.”
He slaps my back and I know we’ll get to the rest later. Once we’re out of Tom’s earshot, Susan whispers in my ear, “He’s a character.”
“You have no idea.”
As everyone takes their seats, I notice it’s packed. As predicted, there are no spaces left to sit in so a few of us have to stand at the back. Susan gestures at her heels so I politely ask if a couple of people at the back wouldn’t mind scooching up. She sits but I insist I’ll be fine. I find Tom and stand with him alongside Sass and Marie. The girls nod their acknowledgement but always with that edge of disdain – their misguided loyalty to Chloe preventing them being truly friendly with me. They’re just here out of curiosity and because Tom put on a limo, absolutely no two ways about it.
A celebrant arrives at the front and Allegra’s wicker coffin sits there covered in white tulips, daisies and calla lilies.
“Today, we’re here to celebrate the life of Allegra Felicia Richards…”
We hear how Theo’s mother began life in Halifax, the daughter of a brick layer and a teacher. We’re told how inseparable she and Karen were, her sister, and I see it must be Karen sitting next to Theo up front, unmistakably another Richards.
Allegra left Halifax when she was seventeen to model in London and travelled the world for the next twenty years, we’re told. Her career as a model came to an end and she moved back to London to have Theo and marry her husband, Costa Lombardi. After Costa’s death, she became something of a renowned fashion photographer, we’re told, and a list of all the designers she shot for is reeled off.
There are a few other facts and figures we’re told, but the general idea is that she lived an extraordinary life and did extraordinary things. Then, amazingly, the celebrant calls Theo up to give a personal eulogy. I would’ve thought Karen would do that or someone else. Not Theo, who’s still cut up and tormented by her leaving without saying goodbye. However, he gets up there without even a bit of paper and Susan looks over her shoulder at me, her mouth open. I shrug and keep my eyes pinned towards the front.
“My mother was precise both in life and death,” he begins, and as I look around the room, seeing everyone wide-eyed as they watch him, I also spot Lily’s parents and sister among the congregants. Another turn-up for the books. “But, in true style, as I always did, I am defying her. I am defying her with my clothes and with this speech.”
Everyone looks at one another, fearing they will either bear witness to something great or something cringey. Theo rests one arm on the lectern and addresses us as if we’re all friends.
“There are several stories I could tell you about my mother’s life. It’s so easy to summarise her existence with a few sentences that relay the jobs she did, the town she came from, the close-knit bond with my auntie that was lifelong and genuine. But what’s not easy is to tell a story that is real, devastating and defined my mother as a woman, as an artist and as a human being.”
I start to freak out, but then he puts his finger over his lip and takes a moment to gather himself.
“For instance, I could tell you about her extensive hat collection and how my friends used to thieve them after nights spent drinking in the conservatory. I could tell you about her many, many photographs, some of which are being shipped across the world as we speak, some of which she kept from childhood and tell the story of a family laden down by poverty but never lacking love. I could tell you about her love of London and how she seemed to feel exactly the opposite to most, that to her, being there was a tonic for the soul more than say a visit to Bath or Harrogate or the beach or a spa. It was her spiritual home and always will be.” He smiles sadly and continues, “Truly, there are too many things about my mother to mention. If I tried to get it all in, we’d be here for hours. Days. Even weeks, depending how much detail you require. But one of my lasting memories will be of how she introduced me to the glamour and glitz of fashion photography… how when I told her I was going to be an actor, she took me to meet her actor friend, and he told me if I wanted to be in the business, I was going to have to be more like my mother and improve my image.”
The audience laughs a little.
“We can’t ever fit one person’s life into a snapshot or one album. We all change, sometimes rapidly, sometimes not at all for years, then all at once. We lead different lives some of us, we adopt our personas, we shelf the person we used to be to fit in somewhere else. But does our essence ever really change?”
He offers a dramatic pause and continues, “Getting back to that story about what really defined her… Well, recently I found my father after so long believing he was dead. I found my alive, flesh-and-blood father and we talked about how he met my mother and fell in love.”
I spot Lily dabbing her face, and Karen, too. Everyone else is just so intrigued.
“My mother was at the end of her modelling days and struggling to let go of those heady, spirited times. She met a man in a café one night in Milan and thought he was a maniac. He didn’t know what he was. He was calling himself a painter but he wasn’t just that. He was a lyricist and a guitar player. He was a poet, a writer… a genius. He was also ten years younger than my mum.” Theo smirks and everyone giggles. “This man, Gustav… he was a dreamer, a no-hoper, a polymath… a gypsy… a hermit… a nomad… an addict, a lost soul. But they fell madly and head over heels in love. The kind of love that digs its nails into your soul and doesn’t let go. The kind that forges a new you and means you will never be th
e same again. And likely, nobody else will ever have this same impact on you for the rest of your life.”
Theo’s expression turns sour and his demeanour changes when he recalls the next part of the story. “They travelled all over Europe together and were happy. But unbeknown to my mother and Gustav, things were to take a turn for the worst. Robbed of everything they owned one night as they slept soundly in their Paris apartment, another heady summer night behind them and the door to the balcony left accidentally ajar, they awoke hungover and unaware everything they owned in the world had been taken – their passports, money, cheques, jewellery, paintings, everything. All they had left was a photograph album my mother had been collating. It was an album containing pictures of herself and Gustav, the shots taken by a friend of theirs, Pierre Bouchon, who was often by their side in Paris and wherever they lay their hat.”
Theo takes another breath, then swallows his fear to complete the final part of the tale. “My mother was thankful she hadn’t lost this precious album. It meant everything to her and she was grateful. Meanwhile Gustav went mad, desperately tipping the sofa upside down or the mattress or the money jar… hoping for a few pennies he could use to abate his addiction that day. Gustav told me recently that he looks back on all of that like it wasn’t them… wasn’t her or him but two other people living that crazy dream… existing on fumes and scraps and the kindness of strangers. He told me that he saw something in my mother’s eye that day, something he could never put his finger on – until now. With hindsight, he sees that it was the beginning of the end. Though they eventually replaced passports, repaid borrowed money and got back some semblance of the life they’d been living before the robbery, he knew she was already pulling away. And when she fell pregnant with me, she didn’t tell him, didn’t hang around. She fled into the arms of a longstanding admirer who offered security, safety and stability for the baby she was carrying inside her belly – me.”
Bad Wife Page 12
