The Vintage Teacup Club

by Vanessa Greene

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Maggie finally managed to say. ‘I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ Owen said. ‘It was an honest mistake, even if the case for the prosecution was pretty flimsy. Anyway, you don’t know me, and if you did I hope you’d realise I’d never do something like that.’

  Maggie’s face relaxed a little.

  ‘By the way,’ he continued. ‘I meant almost everything I said to you the other day.’ She raised an eyebrow at that and her instinct was to leave. ‘But still, I’m sorry.’ He looked down and ran a hand over his hair. ‘For the way that I said it. I never meant to offend you, I know I was harsh. It’s a bad habit of mine. You’re not the first person I’ve upset like this, just ask Jack. But listen,’ Owen went on, ‘I was wondering if we might be able to meet in the middle somehow.’

  Maggie looked at him in disbelief.

  ‘Are you sure about that? You made it pretty clear when we spoke that you’ve got nothing but distaste for the way that I run my company.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant at all,’ Owen countered. ‘I respect your business, and the way you manage it.’

  ‘Really?’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’

  He looked away from her as he said it. That T-shirt really could do with a good wash, she thought, and the denim of his jeans was wearing pretty thin in places. But sitting beside him, she couldn’t help noticing that he smelled good; his arms and neck had a sheen of fresh sweat that she took in, alongside the soil and leaf smells of outdoors.

  ‘I know I must have sounded self-righteous,’ he said, turning back to look at her.

  ‘Too right,’ Maggie said, quietly.

  He ignored her and continued. ‘And judgemental. And I handled the situation all wrong. But I know you’re more experienced than me with this sort of event, and maybe that made me feel a bit small.’

  OK, Maggie thought, surprised. Perhaps I can work with this.

  Owen carried on. ‘I should be better at understanding people whose values are different to mine.’

  ‘But there you go again,’ Maggie said, all the feelings that had made her walk out the other day flooding back. ‘That’s not it at all. My values aren’t that different. I’m not celebrity-obsessed, and believe it or not I don’t hate polar bears.’

  Maggie stopped herself as she realised she was starting to lose her thread.

  ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you insist on pigeonholing me like that.’ Maggie’s head hurt from all the confrontations of the past few days. She just wanted it all to stop. ‘I hadn’t thought all of the ethical choices through, no,’ she said, close to giving in now through sheer exhaustion, ‘but that’s not because I don’t care. It’s just that most of the time I’ve been slogging my guts out to meet deadlines and make ends meet.’

  ‘But can’t you see that while you’ve been meeting your deadlines, your environmental choices will have already made an impact,’ Owen said, forcefully.

  ‘Enough,’ Maggie retorted, getting to her feet. ‘I didn’t come here to be preached to, Owen. I really, really can’t handle any more arguments now.’

  Owen looked up at her, surprised.

  ‘Your life is so simple, isn’t it?’ she went on. ‘So I don’t always live mine perfectly, but do you have any idea what the last few weeks have been like for me?’ Maggie’s voice strained as she struggled to keep control of her emotions.

  ‘No,’ Owen said. ‘I don’t. But it always seems pretty rosy over there with your flower business, and you’ve got your own house, haven’t you? I just assumed—’

  ‘Rosy? Ha!’ Maggie gave a wry laugh. ‘No, Owen. It has not all been rosy.’

  ‘Sit down,’ Owen said. Reluctantly, Maggie took a seat next to him again.

  ‘What’s been going on?’ he asked, gently.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I mean nothing and everything. My life got turned upside-down for a while, but it’ll be fine.’

  ‘Really?’ he said. The look in his eyes seemed to change, soften a little. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure you’re OK?’

  ‘No,’ Maggie said, tears springing to her eyes. ‘Actually I’m not that sure at all.’

  Owen’s hand reached over to touch Maggie’s where it lay on the sofa, and they both rested on the floral fabric of her tea dress, next to her thigh. She didn’t pull her hand away.

  ‘I want you to be OK,’ he said, hesitating. ‘You deserve to be happy. And for what it’s worth, I know you’re not really as bad as I made out. You don’t seem like a polar bear hater to me,’ he smiled. ‘Perhaps, if I’m honest, I wanted you to be.’

  They locked eyes. Maggie’s heart was beating hard in her chest.

  ‘It would all be easier that way,’ he said. ‘If there were some concrete reason why I could stop caring about you.’

  He was close to her right now. Really quite close. Had his mouth always looked that tempting? He reached a hand up to touch her hair, and her chest constricted. She put her hand up to block his.

  ‘Owen, stop,’ she said, her voice soft, hushing the rush of adrenalin she felt under the surface.

  He dropped his hand and looked down. She saw that the man who had made her so angry was now fragile in her presence. She sat up straight and looked over at her bag and jacket. She was going to get up and go. She’d pick up her things and go. Five minutes and she’d be out of here and on the road. But she should really say something first. She turned back to him.

  ‘Owen, I’m sorry, I’d better …’

  He nodded, silently. She raised her hand to touch the side of his face. His skin was warm, and in a instant his hand covered hers. It felt familiar, his touch. Her mouth met his full lips and she felt the warmth of his kiss, tasted part of that scent of outdoors that had drawn her to him earlier. Owen brought her closer and his hands ran through her thick red hair as if this was the only chance they’d get. Then he pulled back for a minute to look over her face, to take everything in. He didn’t say a word.

  Maggie kissed him again and let the rush of feeling block out every other troubled thought.

  Chapter 30

  Jenny

  Alison was sketching out a thigh in charcoal, Maggie was focusing a little higher up, and I was sipping champagne from my glass and fighting the urge to giggle. I suspected it had been Ali’s idea to build in a creative element to my hen party – and here we all were in one of Charlesworth’s artists’ studios, with a pretty gorgeous naked male model in the middle of the room.

  ‘I tell you what,’ Chloe whispered to me, picking up a piece of chalk to add the highlights on the model’s body – she was really launching into the drawing with gusto, ‘he is nearly enough to make me backtrack on swearing off men.’

  Maggie, overhearing, caught her eye and winked. Chloe seemed to have turned her back on Jon for good this time, and she seemed more confident with every passing day. It was good to see how Maggie was starting to bounce back after Dylan’s betrayal too.

  ‘I know what you mean about temptation,’ I glanced over at the model again and smiled. ‘And there I was, thinking I was ready to sign up for a lifetime of monogamy.’

  When I finally got over the awkwardness of not knowing quite where to look, I sketched in the outline of the man’s body, the muscles, and then began to fill in the dark and light patches and the detail. The fizz of the champagne was making me feel light – as I was drawing I could hear voices around me, the girls laughing and having fun together, pouring more bubbles, and every so often I’d hear a snatch of conversation and join in. When we finally looked up at the clock it was nearly six, time for us to step back from the easels and move on to the next venue.

  ‘Hey Jen, move back, let’s see yours,’ Chloe said, pushing a rogue curl out of her eye and shuffling round to get a better look at what I’d drawn.

  ‘It’s good, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Hey, Alison, you’re arty, aren’t you?’ Chloe shouted over. ‘What do you think of what Jen has drawn? I think it’s good
.’

  Alison came over, and cast an eye over my picture and took her time responding.

  ‘Not bad at all, Jenny,’ she said.

  I blushed, uncomfortable with all the attention. But then I thought of the package I’d given Alison to pass on to her friend – the book I’d finally finished working on. I knew publishers received tons of submissions, but perhaps it wasn’t mad to think I might stand a chance?

  ‘OK, ladies,’ the woman running the session came around to where we were standing. ‘Ooh that’s nice,’ she said, looking at what I’d drawn. ‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to let Marcus put his clothes on again now.’

  The girls reacted with a chorus of dismay.

  Alison jumped in. ‘OK, so we’re done with the hors d’oeuvres, let’s go on to the main course. May the eating and drinking commence!’

  ‘So, we asked Dan,’ Chloe said, ‘“What is your favourite part of Jenny’s body?” What do you think he said?’

  ‘Er, hmm … I don’t know. Bum?’ I replied.

  ‘Nope!’ Chloe said jubilantly, handing me another shot glass. ‘Eyes. What a charmer. Drink!’

  I downed my sambuca. Two hours ago things had all still been fairly civilised – we’d left the studio and come here to Jasmine’s, a Chinese restaurant on the high street, for dinner and drinks. We had a corner table and half a dozen more of my friends had come to join us; girls from uni and school I hadn’t seen for ages and who I was touched had made the effort to come – as soon as we hugged hello, the years apart had seemed to dissolve; they all seemed just the same. Annie, the girl I’d once played with out in our street, showed me photos on her iPhone of her baby girl. ‘She’s gorgeous,’ I told her, it was clear that she was brimming over with pride about the new arrival. ‘I love her to bits,’ she said, ‘but you know what, I haven’t been out for months, and I really can’t wait to get a bit wasted with you tonight.’ She gave me a squeeze.

  Dan’s sister Emma was there too, laughing and covering her ears at the more explicit Mr and Mrs questions. There were a few, and I had been sort of relieved to get them over and done with, but embarrassment aside, I was loving having all of my closest girlfriends here. Women from different times and places in my life but who had all formed some of my favourite memories, and were throwing themselves wholeheartedly into making sure I’d have new happy memories of tonight.

  Maggie and Chloe were huddled together talking about something away from the rest of the crowd when I interrupted them.

  ‘What’s going on over here?’ I asked. They’d only met that morning but had really hit it off.

  ‘Nothing,’ Maggie said. Chloe looked sheepish.

  ‘Nothing?’ I said, unconvinced.

  ‘OK, there is something,’ Maggie said, and Chloe nudged her sharply in the ribs. ‘Chloe’s got her eye on someone and we were just working out a little plan of action.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, feeling excited but also a little left out. ‘And who’s the new man?’

  Chloe was blushing fiercely now, something she didn’t often do.

  ‘Oh no …’ I said. ‘It’s not …’

  Maggie was trying to stifle her laughter.

  ‘Marcus?’ I guessed, remembering the buff model we’d all been drawing earlier. Chloe looked relieved, exchanging looks with Maggie and nodding.

  ‘Yes, him,’ she said, giggling. But there was something in her eyes that hinted it wasn’t him at all.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed like I did that night. Sometimes when I went out Dan would be on my mind, or I’d be thinking about work – but now all I felt was the warmth of these friendships. I looked over at Alison and Maggie opposite me, squabbling over the prawn crackers, and felt sure that we were going to be in one another’s lives for good.

  ‘You don’t know what’s up next, do you, Jen?’ Alison said.

  ‘What? There’s more?’ I’d genuinely thought that after the naked man I was off the hook.

  ‘Did you really think Chloe was going to let you off this easily?’ she replied.

  ‘You have to tell me,’ I said, leaning closer, taking advantage of the fact that Chloe was deep in conversation with one of our work friends at the other end of the table. ‘I mean it. You know I hate surprises.’

  ‘Ooh I couldn’t,’ Alison teased. Then Annie, leaning over, a little worse for wear by now, mouthed at me ‘KAR-A-O-KE.’

  ‘Yes!’ I whispered back at them both, ‘brilliant.’ Chloe had come up trumps. I’d always had a thing for karaoke, and there was a private room above the Fox and Pheasant where we’d go after work sometimes. Chloe doing her Tina Turner to ‘Nutbush City Limits’ tended to be a highlight. I have a godawful voice but it’s never mattered, we always ended up in stitches.

  I was biting into a prawn wonton when I heard the door to the restaurant open behind me, and felt a breeze on the back of my neck.

  ‘You wait until—’ Alison started. But then she stopped mid-sentence and her face took on a more serious expression.

  ‘What is it?’ I said, following her gaze over my shoulder.

  There, beside all the women who I knew I could count on, stood the woman who had walked out on me.

  Nothing can prepare you for meeting a mirror image of yourself. I’d never realised my mum and I looked so alike until she was there, in the Chinese restaurant, hovering by the table and waiting for me to say hello. It was clear from Alison’s reaction that she had noticed it too. It’s odd. I’d seen pictures of my mum, of course, but the similarities hadn’t come across in those. They were Dad’s faded old seventies prints and none of them had really been sharp enough for me to make out the features that were my own. But I could see it now.

  I’d had quite a bit to drink which made it harder to take everything in. I found myself focusing on just one point, on her mouth which looked just like mine, the same full lips, but with lipstick. The room began to spin.

  ‘Jenny,’ she said, holding her arms out, only a slight tremble in her voice betraying her calm manner. ‘Look at you.’

  I turned from my mum back to Alison, whose concerned expression prompted me to say, ‘Yes, it’s her.’ My voice sounded croaky. ‘I think I’d better do this on my own.’

  As I turned back to face my mum, I heard Alison pass on the message and gently herd my friends away. I had a vague awareness of the women I’d come with leaving, saw them out of the corner of my eye, whispering and gathering up their things. I kissed goodbye to one familiar face, then another, felt gentle, reassuring touches on my arm as the hens trooped out. I heard Maggie say I could call her later, whatever time it was, but I don’t think I even answered. My mother was still there, looking me over.

  ‘What a beautiful woman you’ve turned into,’ she said, smiling. Her expression seemed relaxed, but there was an awkwardness to her stance that reminded me we should probably be sitting down.

  When I turned back to the table, it was nearly empty. My mother squeezed onto the padded seat opposite me, got herself settled and took my hands in hers. Her eyes were watery. ‘Wow. You really are all grown up.’

  ‘Mum.’ I sort of squeaked it, in a voice that didn’t sound like mine. I knew instinctively that this was my mother; but I didn’t really know this woman at all. Her hair was bright with white-blonde highlights, her lips were painted a deep red, and she was wearing leather trousers, heeled boots and an electric blue ruffled blouse. I felt invisible in my slate grey wrap dress, even with my chunky green necklace and Jimmy Choos.

  ‘Congratulations, Jenny.’ She reached under the table and squeezed my knee. She smelled of caked foundation and perfume. The scent didn’t bring back any memory of my childhood, like I’d sometimes idly imagined it would. ‘Have you been having a good night?’ she asked.

  ‘Mum.’ Some of my strength was returning at last. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Her face fell a little. ‘Oh love,’ she glanced around, dodging my stare, ‘I know you didn’t respond to my email, but email�
�s not always the best way, is it? So impersonal, not right for catching up at all.’ She rearranged some strands of hair in her fringe as she spoke. ‘So when I found out about your little shindig tonight, well Ange didn’t want to tell me, but when she said Chinese I guessed it must be here – I thought if we could just meet face to face we’d be able to work things out properly.’ She motioned to the waiter, beckoning him over. ‘A bottle of rosé, my good sir, for me and the bride-to-be!’

  I’ll be honest, I was struggling. The waiter came back with the wine and two glasses and began to pour. ‘You see, darling,’ Mum continued, ‘when you get to my age you realise life’s too short to hold grudges. The thing is to forgive and forget, move on.’

  She lifted her glass and I, robotically, lifted mine to chink against hers. ‘Your dad’s not bitter, about Nigel and me, you know,’ she said, looking me in the eye now. I gawped at her in disbelief. ‘He told me that on the phone. It’s all just water under the bridge,’ she gave a gentle shrug.

  ‘You and I were always very close,’ Mum continued, her confidence slipping to let in a shaft of something that surprised me: neediness. I’d taken a sip of the sweet wine but when I heard what she said I nearly choked on it.

  ‘That was over twenty years ago, Mum,’ I said. ‘And we may have had a bond then, but I’m a different person now.’ My mind was awash. ‘And anyway, what about Chris, or have you forgotten all about him?’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ she said, pulling at the ruffles on her blouse to straighten out the front. ‘You know it’s not the same, with boys. Girls and their mums have a special relationship, no matter what. It’s what makes having a daughter special.’

  ‘Oh really? Dad seems to think we’re both pretty special. And he’d know, of course – given that he brought us both up.’ Gathering confidence now, I kept my eyes on hers, even though I could see she was longing to look away.