‘Do you think Uggs are called Uggs because they are actually the manifestation of the designer’s idea of a hug for your feet?’
‘Oh. My. God! Yes!’ Ali squealed. ‘Of course. I never thought of that. We should write to them and say we’ve worked it out.’
‘They might send us three free pairs,’ Jacqui slurred. ‘Fuck, I’m fucked. It’s got even more now.’
Lying there, spaced out, I had a niggling feeling I had invited something to happen but couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Everything had slowed down dramatically since the brownies had set to work. What felt like hours were in fact minutes. I had looked at the kitchen clock when we traipsed outside to the garden and it was only eleven in the morning. I don’t know how long we lay there. Jacqui was trapped in a loop of: ‘I love you guys, you know that, right?’ And we kept repeating, ‘Yes we know.’ Occasionally Ali would blurt out: ‘I’m battered’ and then laugh hysterically. I wanted to hold Chugga and kiss his fluffy head and breathe in the comforting smell of his baby-soft skin. As I was thinking of the kids and how much I missed them, the sound of a siren invaded my head. Was it part of the tune on the iPod? I thought I heard a crashing sound. I promptly sat up.
‘What’s that?’
‘No idea,’ Ali said dreamily. ‘I can’t move.’
‘Girls! Are you here? Where are you?’
It was Philippa from next door, her voice bouncing out from in the kitchen. Someone had turned the music off. Oh God, I just remembered what it was I had invited: it was her, James and Daniel for champagne. I think I sent a text, replying to their Happy Christmas one when I was out of my head.
‘Here, in the garden. Get up, you two! We have to look normal.’
‘What are you doing lying on the wet grass?’
‘Some yoga.’
‘Did you know your holly was on fire in the living room?’
‘What?’ I jumped up now, somehow finding the wherewithal to act like a person in control of their life.
‘Yes, I called the fire brigade. I’m afraid they broke in but I think the door isn’t too badly damaged.’
‘Oh my God,’ Jacqui whispered. ‘How did the holly set on fire?’
‘You left candles burning on the mantelpiece. James and I were hammering on your door and could see through the window the holly just set alight before our eyes. We rang you, but no one was answering.’
‘My phone was in the living room.’
‘Are the owners out here?’ a man’s voice called from further in the house.
‘Yes, she’s here,’ Philippa shouted back.
I walked unsteadily to the back door, brushing leaves from my grubby parka. A tall man in full fireman’s uniform strode purposely towards me, his limbs making regular sweeping noises against the heavy-duty fabric. I felt paranoid that I was about to get dragged over the coals, my children taken into care and some kind of court fine for wasting emergency services’ time.
‘You know you’re very lucky we got here in time and that your neighbours alerted us. What were you thinking, leaving candles burning when you weren’t in the room?’
‘I’m sorry, Officer. We’d had a bit to drink and thought it would be good to come out here to sober up and we just forgot about the candles.’ I urgently stabbed my palms with my nails to halt the giggles fighting to emerge as I suddenly imagined the fireman’s head inexplicably morphing into a giant ice cream.
‘Well, you won’t be the first person to make that mistake.’ He looked from me and then to Ali and Jacqui behind me. He must have been in his late twenties. He was very handsome and his raw masculinity was actually quite intimidating as we stood there, make-up free with untamed hair, pyjamas on underneath our coats. He saved lives and was a hero. I felt like a useless worm in comparison. The wave of giggles subsided.
‘Haven’t I seen you three before?’
‘No, we would have remembered you,’ Jacqui said boldly. I was taken aback. She never said stuff like that. He coloured ever so slightly pink on his cheeks; it was quite endearing.
‘Anyway, come and see the damage.’
The smell hit me first: weird chemicals from the foam. There was some charring on the mirror, up the wall and on the ceiling, but in reality, there was very little damage. The worst was the front door. It was wide open, but not off its hinges.
‘What am I going to do about the door?’ I wailed. ‘The house isn’t secure, if it’s broken.’
‘You can call an emergency locksmith. They’ll be working today. I have a number in the truck.’ Two other older firemen walked through the lounge to gather equipment.
‘Here’s the info.’ The young fireman handed me an ‘After We’ve Gone’ leaflet. ‘Look, there’s no real damage. You’re safe to have the gas and electricity on. It was just the holly on the mantelpiece. Nothing else has been touched. You had it there all week?’ I nodded. ‘Yeah, it gets dried out, especially with central heating and the fire. It’s ideal tinderbox material.’ I felt stupid.
‘I hope you ladies enjoy the rest of your day,’ he said, returning from the truck while the other two carried off the extinguishers. Philippa followed them out giving us a parting wave.
‘We will. Thank you,’ Jacqui smiled at him, and winked as he purposely handed her the locksmith card.
‘I know where I’ve seen you. At that bar, DJ-ing. All three of you were there. I remember because, well, I just did. Happy Christmas. Maybe see you girls down there again?’
‘Thanks so much for saving us,’ I said gratefully. ‘So sorry for being annoying. Happy Christmas!’
‘You got that number?’ I asked once they’d left, leaving me to sort out the door. Jacqui handed me the business card. ‘I think Andy liked you, Jacqui.’
‘Andy?’
‘The cute fireman.’
‘Nooooo, don’t be silly. He was way too young. I could be his mum.’
‘Yeah, if you’d had him at eleven! Seriously though, why else would he have written his name and number on the back of the card and given it to you?’
32
The Spare Man
‘Mummy, we’re filming the show this weekend! We’re going to be on TV!’ The promise of stardom overshadowed the glaring realisation that Daddy was getting married. I think Sam had sold it to them in some kind of conflated package for that exact purpose.
‘How exciting!’ I enthused, while secretly hoping that Sonny pulled one of his monstrous shitfits clean out of the bag, imploding Carrie’s soufflé showstopper.
‘You just need to meet someone now,’ Isla said that bedtime after the TV show announcement. ‘I wish you would.’
‘Why?’
‘To make it fair. It’s not fair that Daddy gets to be happy and remarried. You need to meet a husband.’
‘Would that make you happier?’ I asked curiously.
‘Yes!’ Meg practically shouted.
I looked from Meg’s earnest cherub face to Isla’s long solemn one and tried to bring Sonny into this, but he was brumming his Hot Wheels cars up and down the end of the bed. We were cosied up in my bedroom, snuggled under the duvet, Meg in the middle of attempting bunches for the fifth time, pulling my hair out from the roots, making my eyes water. I had several clips in my fringe, one of which was a unicorn with a missing horn.
‘But if I met someone, he wouldn’t be a new daddy for you. You already have one.’
‘We know,’ Meg said like I was stupid. She pulled my right bunch tight with her little fist and tried to pull it unsuccessfully through the twist she couldn’t quite hold with her fingers. Ginger sensibly lay on the rug by the fireplace; he knew what happened when the hairbrushes came out.
‘Isla, can you show me again?’ she asked, clearly exasperated. Isla patiently held my hair and guided Meg’s hands so they could make the twist work and pull through the bunched-up hair. ‘Thank you!’
‘Mummy, we just want you to meet someone because it’s nice to have a Spare Man around.’
‘A Spare Man?�
�
‘Yes, someone to do things with. Go to the park. Have days out.’
‘But we don’t need anyone to have days out. We have nice days out and we’re OK. I don’t need anyone… We have Ali.’
‘Sonny does. And we do,’ Isla explained simply. ‘Daddy said Sonny is going mad in that house with all those women.’
Red-hot rage shot up from my stomach. ‘What?’ I squeaked, then smiled serenely for I knew I had to act indifferent or I wouldn’t eke any more titbits out of them.
‘Well, you know all the tantrums Sonny has here? And the smashing stuff? Well, at Christmas he started it at Daddy’s, too. And Daddy said it’s because he’s in a house full of women.’ And not because his daddy had another baby boy so soon after he left, who gets to live with him permanently. No, it couldn’t be that. My pulse throbbed in my temples.
‘And Daddy thinks I should meet a man, does he?’
‘No. That wasn’t his idea. That was ours!’ Isla said proudly. I wanted to cry. Of course I wanted them to be happy, but a man? Meg looked at me and attacked the left side of my head, grasping the hair tightly so the roots stretched out of my scalp and tucked forcefully into her fist.
‘Where am I going to find a Spare Man?’ I asked them, wincing from the pain.
‘Ask the universe!’ Isla said openly, throwing my own words back at me. ‘You’re always telling Ali to do that.’
*
Mel had given me a new book for Christmas, The Four Agreements. Once I’d finished it and completely and utterly absorbed its message, I stuck an abbreviated version of it to the fridge under one of our multitude of novelty magnets.
‘What’s this? More Beardy Weirdy?’ Ali asked, inspecting the two pages of computer-printed life goals.
‘Yes, but achievable, not ordering men from the cosmos or thinking happy thoughts to attract one million pounds. I’m now choosing to live my life this way. Hand in hand with Reiki, as it were.’
‘OK. Let me see…
Be impeccable with your word – speak with integrity and only say what you mean and don’t gossip against yourself or others.
‘Well, where’s the fun in that?
Don’t take anything personally – nothing others do is because of you. If you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won’t be a victim of needless suffering.
‘But what about if someone punches you? You’re suffering then!
Don’t make assumptions – communicate with others clearly so you avoid misunderstandings, drama and sadness.
‘OK, yes, that makes sense.
Always do your best – enjoy the action without expecting a reward.
‘Come on – you can’t expect to do a job for the love of it and live off fresh air. This guy lives on another planet.’
‘Read all the blurb. It’s not as simple as that. I sent it to Jacqui and she’s going to try it, too. I reckon we start doing this and eternal happiness and success will be ours; we can take over the world. Ancient Mexican people called the Toltecs lived by them.’
‘It sounds like something you would get Brownie badges for,’ Ali scoffed. ‘Where are these people now?’
‘They died off.’
‘Classic! No wonder they all died out. They were so busy doing jobs and not getting paid that they all dropped dead from starvation!’
‘Shut it. Sometimes things die out naturally because they’re too innovative for the time. The world is ready to hear this now. Watch and learn.’
‘I’ll stick to ordering off the universe, I think.’
*
Late February, standing at the sink vacantly washing up burned cheese pizza pans, a familiar sensation washed over me. My skin prickled all over my back with pins and needles, my hands and feet throbbed rhythmically. I was absolutely positive a person was standing directly behind me, someone tall and well built, like a man. This had happened fourteen years previously while I was sitting on a plane home from Greece. I’d been convinced I could sense a man behind me then, but when I poked my nose through the narrow gap in the seats, there was just a corpulent old lady with bifocals reading a John Grisham novel. I had been sure I was going to encounter someone significant that evening. I hadn’t been wrong – I’d met Sam.
I stopped scrubbing the pan. I wanted to turn my head and see if there was anything there. Instead I closed my eyes and reverently asked who it was. Could the Spare Man be about to make an appearance? My shopping list of Spare Man characteristics was secretly stashed away in my desk upstairs. (My favourite point was he had to laugh at the same puerile things I found funny or it just wouldn’t work. I’d dispensed with romance. My overlying theme was that kindness had to be paramount.)
When will I meet you? I silently asked. I waited for a sign – anything – that I could flimsily latch on to.
Ali barged into the kitchen, the door slamming wide open against a chair with a violent thwack!
‘Fuck’s sake!’ she bellowed. ‘He’s getting married this weekend!
Spare Man vanished in a panic from whence he came.
‘How do you know? Who told you?’
‘Alice, my agent.’
I ripped my rubber gloves off and reached in to the depleted wine rack beneath the butcher’s block. I wished for the trillionth time we were cash rich and, after curing world poverty, could fill the crusty damp cellar to bursting with posh bottles of red wine and vintage champagne. I poured us both a glass of red plonk.
‘Well, Grace was in the bath earlier and Alice rang. She jumped straight in with, “I know you’re Jim’s ex, and Grace’s mum. Why didn’t you tell me?” I said I didn’t think it mattered, that we had a business relationship. I also said I desperately needed an agent to help me get more work, being a single parent, blah blah blah. She and Hattie must have chatted and put two and two together.’
‘What did she say to that?’
‘She said fair enough. She said she would have done the same, especially as I had no idea before going to the interview that she was Hattie’s friend. I obviously wouldn’t have put in the pictures of Grace if I’d known, would I?’
‘No. So she’s not going to drop you?’
‘She said not. Said she’ll try and get some more work with Next. The jobs I did last week got good feedback so she’s pleased. They want to use me again. If I get in with them, it would be regular.’
‘What a legend. So how did the wedding date come up?’
‘She could hear Grace splashing in the bath and asked how she was. Then she said she’d see her at the weekend for their wedding. I felt like she’d punched me in the stomach.’
‘Fuck. I’m not surprised. Did you act normal?’ I fleetingly wondered what kind of retribution the bathroom had suffered at the hands of the news.
‘Yes, you would have been so proud of me. No freaking out. Though that may happen now.’
I pushed her wine towards her and she downed it in one, a tiny rivulet dribbling down her chin. She slammed the glass down on the work surface, wiping away the dribble with her hand.
‘Fucking twat. I bet she’s a flower girl or something. I can’t believe it; I still have his engagement ring in Grace’s keepsake box.’ She looked like she was about to cry, but thought better of it. ‘This weekend, please can we go out and paint the town red? I need to forget Grace is at his wedding. I can’t go too far as I’m working the next day. Did you know there’s a new late-night place opened called the Adventure Bar? Apparently it’s crazy, dancing on tables and people having sex in the toilets. I think we need to check it out.’
*
You could hear the music two blocks down when we stopped to get some cash out.
‘Evening, ladies,’ said the heavy-set bouncer all decked in black as he pulled the door open for us. The beat of the bass echoed rhythmically in our chests and our noses were assaulted by a sweet sickly smell. Years later, Ali would claim that if we spun her round in a game of blind man’s buff and pointed her unknowingly towards the Adventure Bar, she wo
uld be able to tell where she was from its characteristic olfactory delights of vomit, mingled with flaming Sambucas and cheap perfume.
My armpits instantly started to prickle from the heat and as we walked further in, we started shedding layers. The space was open all the way through the length of the entire building to the back, down some vulgar night-club chrome steps to an impressive bar stretching along the whole right-hand side. Disco lights flashed, highlighting a group of men immediately to the left of the door. They were sitting at two high round bar tables also edged with chrome. They seemed pleased to see us and one of them fervently beckoned Jacqui over.
‘We’ve got jugs of cocktails and lots of spare glasses, if you girls want to have some.’ An earnest-looking chap, wearing a shirt and geek glasses, pointed to the tables laden with giant pitchers of fluorescent-looking liquid and scatterings of supposedly clean glasses. A warning immediately flashed across my brain: what if they’d roofied the cocktails and were stationed by the door claiming unsuspecting victims? ‘It’s Mark’s thirtieth. Help him celebrate!’ Mark waved from the second table. He looked like a clean-cut boy-band singer. The others were a mix of young guys let out on the town after an intensive librarian conference. We were safe.
The Adventure Bar Small Talk Tennis Tournament opened around the tables. As everyone picked up their rackets I felt a tap on my shoulder.
‘What’s your name? I saw you come in but was stuck over by the corner.’ He was very tall and I had to tip my head back to see his face. He had short dark hair, stubble grazed his jaw and he was wearing a trendy lilac dogtooth shirt.
‘I’m Amanda. I didn’t see you. Do you come here often?’ He laughed and his eyes crinkled endearingly. I hadn’t meant it as a pick-up, it was just my hackneyed opening shot.
‘No. I’ve never been here before. It’s my first day in London. I just moved down yesterday from Birmingham.’ After chatting aimlessly for the best part of an hour, I realised I didn’t know his name. So I asked.
The Single Mums' Mansion Page 23
