‘Maggie, that’s outrageous!’ Alison said, clapping her hands together. ‘Bravo.’
‘Good for you, you deserve it,’ I said. ‘So how old is he?’
‘Thirty-one,’ Maggie said, ‘but I actually think he’s more mature than me. In fact, I’ve realised I’m really not that grown up after all.’ Maggie certainly looked as if years had drifted away from her face. ‘He’s relaxed with who he is, and it makes me feel like I can be the same, really be myself when I’m with him,’ she said.
Maggie took a sip of coffee and settled her cup back down. ‘I mean, granted, it was massively romantic being back with Dylan, and dreaming the dream that we could undo everything that went wrong. But all the while I had doubts. There was so much riding on things working out; we knew we had to do a better job – but then when we ended up making even more of a pig’s ear of it, I realised it didn’t matter at all.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I couldn’t care less what other people think, because life is full of mistakes and learning, isn’t it? I forgot that for a while. And this – this thing with Owen is going nowhere, it’s a bit of fun and we both know that. But the chemistry is something else. I feel so young.’
‘Ooh, it sounds dreamy,’ Alison said, giving her a wink. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be there again,’ she said, wistfully, then laughed. ‘I’m happy for you, Maggie. And actually, you know what, I’d be more jealous, but since Pete got his new job I almost feel like we’re in a new relationship ourselves. There are days when I can’t wait for him to get home so I can drag him upstairs before the girls get back from their after-school clubs.’
‘Ali, that’s great,’ I said, meaning it. ‘If I’d known a budgeting spreadsheet would make such a difference to your sex life I’d have sent you one weeks ago.’
Alison and Maggie laughed. Then a thought popped into my head. ‘But Ali, hold on, back to Owen; wasn’t part of the issue with him that he was refusing to cooperate over the It Girl deal? Did you have to give in on that?’ Maggie was hard-headed when it came to Bluebelle and I couldn’t believe her priorities would switch so quickly; this really was a golden opportunity for her.
‘We found a way,’ Maggie said, with a wink. ‘It’s astonishing what you can get a man to agree to when you’re in the bath.’ Alison feigned a gasp and then laughed. ‘But, seriously,’ Maggie continued, ‘he does still feel strongly about it, and I can see his point now, so we’ve reached a compromise. He’s agreed to work on the wedding even with the magazine exclusive going ahead, provided that I allow him to look into my proposed flower sources and find fairtrade, environmentally sound alternatives, so that his brand isn’t associated with anything he doesn’t agree with.’
‘That’s sounds reasonable,’ Alison said. ‘And surely that’s a good thing for your business anyway? I mean people care about the environment more than ever. Pete’s obsessed with our vegetable patch.’
‘You’re right,’ Maggie said. ‘Anna kept bringing it up, but it seemed like there was never time to look into it properly, and to be honest I didn’t really know where to start. But if Owen’s willing to do the legwork then who am I to argue?’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve also managed to convince him that getting publicity in the right circles could open up good opportunities for him. A couple of lucrative new projects would mean he’d be able to take on some pro bono work for local community projects and charities, for example. There’s one initiative he’s really interested in, working with the long-term unemployed to help them build skills and confidence through gardening – I pointed out that designing one WAG’s garden would give him the cash to start helping people back into work and he warmed to the idea.’
‘That’s a good way of looking at it,’ Alison said.
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed, ‘and you know what? With all this gossiping out the way already, I’m almost ready for a bargain hunt. What do you say?’
Both women nodded, and Alison finished her coffee. ‘We’ve done well,’ Maggie said, ‘but we are still two cups off our target.’
Alison gave a gentle laugh. ‘I know how you and Jenny like to make your targets. So far be it from me to stand in the way of that. Let’s hit the stalls, ladies.’ She stood up, then stopped for a moment, a pensive look on her face. ‘But seriously, two weeks to go and only two little teacups to find. It’s amazing really, isn’t it?’
‘It is,’ Maggie agreed. And we raised our cardboard coffee cups to that, knowing that in just two weeks’ time, I’d be getting married at a beautiful wedding full of vintage teacups and we’d be able to toast our success in a far more appropriate way.
We ducked out of the marquee and I squinted up into the afternoon sunshine. It had been drizzling that morning when I’d set out, but now the rain had stopped and everything – from the beads of rain on the grass to the thick green leaves in the plane trees overhead – was gleaming. Alison stretched like a happy cat next to me and retied the red headscarf she had knotted around her hair.
Behind us we heard a voice calling out, ‘Help me! I’m stuck’.
Alison and I locked eyes, then turned around to see Maggie still at the entrance of the tent, her high heels sunk deep into the wet ground. She was a vision – sophisticated from the ankle up, in a bias-cut lilac shift and a white headscarf, but anchored to the ground in a muddy and not entirely dignified fashion. Ali and I walked back and took hold of a side of Maggie each, letting her lean on us while we tackled the issue at ground level.
We were still laughing as we made it back onto the tarmac of the car park. We stopped next to a stall and I recognised the owner at once – it was the man who’d sold us that first teaset, Ruby and Derek’s neighbour. I was pretty sure a glimmer of recognition passed across his face when he caught sight of the three of us together. He gave a little nod of acknowledgement and I smiled back. Alison and Maggie hadn’t noticed him and moved on to the next stall, where crockery was piled high. I lingered and picked up a brooch inlaid with green stones; it was only costume jewellery but it would be perfect for Maggie. I wanted to get her a little something to say thank you as I knew she was giving me a really good deal on our wedding flowers.
‘That’ll be seven pound fifty, love,’ the stallholder said. I handed over a tenner and he passed me the change together with the brooch in a paper bag.
‘Thank you,’ I said, and gave him a smile before walking away.
We found the final two cups for our collection at the stall nearest to the church, which was run by a mother and daughter team. As they told us, in animated voices, about the quiet Saturday when they’d decided it was time for a major clear-out, I felt a pang. I imagined the radio on and laughter as boxes were opened and emptied, childhood treasures rediscovered.
But that feeling, of something in me being missing, was fleeting; after all, I’d not had that closeness with Mum since I was tiny, so how could I miss it, we’d never have that, even if I did let her back into my life. And while this mother was affectionate and loving, my mum had proved without a doubt that she only cared about herself.
‘These will make gorgeous candles,’ Maggie said, lifting two cups with silver trim and paintings of lavender on the sides.
‘Done. Our final two!’ I said, triumphant, as the daughter wrapped our new purchases in bubble wrap and taped them up. Maggie, Alison and I couldn’t resist a high five.
I was home first, cycling past the Saturday shoppers and bolting my bike to the rail before Dan got back from football. I settled onto the sofa in front of the TV. Thirty minutes later there was a clunk as Dan opened the door, sweaty and muddy in his gym kit.
‘Hey,’ I shouted out, leaping up in time to get a newspaper under the football boots he was about to put on our cream carpet. ‘Ha-ha!’ I said, pleased with the rescue mission.
‘See, practice really does make perfect,’ he said, giving me a wink. I screwed up my face into my best fishwife scowl and he kissed me like that.
‘We’re not having cream carpets when we move. Not with you and the new puppy, it would be
a full-time job.’
‘When can we get him from Ali?’ Dan asked.
‘Three weeks still, Dad’s got the kennel nearly ready.’ We’d gone around to see Cassie and George’s new litter of puppies last week, adorable squirming brown balls of fluff scrambling over their mum on Alison’s neighbours’ kitchen floor. Dad, Dan and I had both fallen head over heels in love with a small pup with a pink nose. He’d waddled up to us right away and it was like he’d chosen us, rather than the other way around. Dad couldn’t wait to get him home, in fact I was concerned we might end up with a custody battle on our hands when Dan and I finally got around to moving to a place with a garden and wanted to take him back.
‘How was football?’ I asked, like I did every Saturday.
‘I scored for us,’ Dan said, smiling. ‘And we beat them 3–0.’
‘Well done,’ I said, kissing him again. I caught sight of a white envelope in his hand. ‘What’s that?’
He passed it over and I saw it was addressed to me. ‘Joe from downstairs gave it to me,’ he said. ‘It went to their flat by mistake.’
‘Oh, fine,’ I said, putting it down on the dresser.
As I lifted my hand though, I caught sight of the handwriting on the envelope and felt my legs buckle.
*
‘I’m not opening it,’ I said, shaking my head, as Dan took a seat next to me on the sofa. ‘There’s no way.’
‘That’s fine,’ Dan said, shrugging and putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘Jen, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’
I glanced over at the envelope propped on the sofa arm. The silence between Dan and me seemed to go on for ever. Eventually he looked over at me but I carried on staring straight ahead, not meeting his eyes. Then he put his feet up on the coffee table and reached for the remote control.
‘Dan!’ I snapped.
‘What?’ he said, jumping a little as he turned back to me. ‘What have I done?’
‘You can’t just …’ I huffed. ‘Look,’ I grabbed hold of the letter and thrust it at him. ‘You open it. Read it to me.’
He raised his eyebrows as my emotions, messy as an old set of fairy lights right now, caused me to lash out.
‘Please, I mean,’ I corrected myself, wrinkling my nose in apology. ‘If you don’t mind. I just don’t think I can do it myself.’
‘Sure,’ Dan said, as he took the envelope from me gently.
As I watched him open the letter, heard the paper ripping, the muscles across my shoulders were tight. ‘Jen, try and relax,’ Dan said, taking in my pose and giving my leg a stroke. I realised I was sitting bolt upright. I wriggled my shoulders to release the tension and tried to make myself comfortable on the sofa.
‘I’m relaxed,’ I said, knowing I didn’t sound it. ‘What does it say?’
‘“Dear Jenny,”’ Dan started, shuffling the pages of the letter to see how many there were. ‘God, there’s loads here – who writes letters this long nowadays?’ His eyes were wide and I could tell he was trying to lighten the situation, but it just made me impatient. I gave him a look and he carried on.
‘“I’m really sorry, I know I upset you when I visited.”’ Dan was trying to keep his tone neutral, even though he was even crosser with my mum than I was, if that were possible. ‘“I’ve been talking to Nige.”’ Dan stopped. ‘Who’s Nige?’ he asked.
‘Her boyfriend I think, go on, carry on.’
Dan shrugged and continued, ‘“He’s made me see I didn’t go about things in the right way. I shouldn’t have come to your hen night.”’ He nodded then. ‘“Maybe I shouldn’t have got in contact at all – but I just wanted to speak to you again. You’re still my little girl, even after all this time.”’
Dan must have seen my eyes starting to water because he stopped.
‘Do you want to read the rest yourself?’
I nodded and took the pages from him, casting an eye over the round handwriting that was so familiar to me – it might have been over ten years since I’d heard from my mum but I had looked over her old cards and notes a hundred times since then.
I’ve never really been that good at getting important things right, I get nervous and Nige says that sometimes I get swept up in the moment without thinking things through. But I just wanted to see you again, to try and get back to the way we were, even though I know a lot of time has passed.
Deep breaths, Nige says. This part is hard for me to write but I know I have to, because I don’t want you to think that I don’t care. Because I do. About you and your brother.
Dan made a sign for tea and got up to go to the kitchen and I read on.
You wanted to talk about Chris and I know I should be able to. But I find it hard, because I know I haven’t been a good mum. I know that you and him are, like you put it, ‘a package’, and I think that’s great. I’m glad you look after each other. But when I spoke with you it hurt, because it reminded me of how much I let your little brother down, even more than I did you. Marriage isn’t easy,
I paused for a moment. Was I really ready to hear advice about marriage from my mum, of all people? But I couldn’t ignore the temptation to read on. I’d been waiting ten years to be find out a little bit more about what made my mum tick.
Marriage isn’t easy, but you seem like a sensible woman, Jenny, and stronger maybe than I was when I married your dad. I wish you the best for your marriage, and don’t worry, I understand now that it wouldn’t be right for me to be there on your big day.
Thank you, I thought to myself, for realising that. I felt Dan’s presence behind me and he touched my hair and smiled as he put down a cup of tea for me on the table. I touched his hand and held it for a second as he moved away.
Anyway, to explain it, I think I have to start at the beginning. When you were born they put you on my chest, Jenny, and I held you. I felt your little heart beat and saw your eyes. Even then they were the same as mine. You were such a gorgeous baby. We brought you home from the hospital the next day and I was with you all the time, cuddling you, holding you, and then when you were bigger, we’d play together. But when Chris was born they took him away, they told me something was wrong and they didn’t know how bad it was yet. When the doctors came back they told me he might never walk, and that there could be worse things too. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I thought I’d done something wrong, Jenny. Your dad and I made him, so it must have been our fault. That was how I saw it. I thought maybe it was the wine I’d had before I realised I was pregnant, something like that, or the time I slipped and fell over in the kitchen. But anyway, I was thinking all this back then. They had to do tests on Chris, so the way things happened they didn’t put him on my chest at all.
I read the rest of the letter in silence, Dan was keeping himself busy with something in the other room. Mum talked about how she had found things more and more difficult once she was able to take Chris home.
I realised that I couldn’t bring the fun, good, happy things into your lives that I wanted to, that you needed, when my head wasn’t right. When what I felt, even looking at your little faces, was sad. You were only kids and I knew you’d be soaking everything up like little sponges, the bad with the good, the arguments, my moods, the way both me and your dad felt as we started to grow apart. I loved you and I loved Chris. But I couldn’t stop feeling like a failure for not knowing how to support Chris, for worrying that I might not be able to care for him the right way. I thought you’d be better off without me. I suppose I ended up taking it out on your dad a bit too; maybe I blamed him. But I just didn’t know how to cope. I cared about your brother, and I still care now. I’ve written to him too. If he reads his letter, hopefully he’ll start to understand what I did a bit better. But I love him just like I love you.
I read the final lines of Mum’s letter.
I’ll understand, Jenny, if you never want to hear from me again. But if you and Chris are willing to give me a chance, I’d really like to get to know you, as the adults you are now, a
nd have you be part of my life again.
Tears were falling down my cheeks. I rubbed them away with the back of my hand.
Chapter 33
Maggie
No, this couldn’t be happening. Maggie was in the back room of the shop, diary in hand. And her head was spinning.
After the car boot sale she’d gone back to the florists, and Anna had been out the front arranging the flowers for a memorial service later that week. Maggie could see she was handling quite complex work with ease, and was clearly enjoying having a project of her own. Maggie was reminded of the enthusiasm she’d felt when she’d first been learning the trade.
‘You’re doing a wonderful job on that,’ Maggie had said, as Anna finished off one of the wreaths.
A thought had struck her then. People had always given her chances, hadn’t they?
‘Anna,’ she said. ‘How would you feel about looking after the shop on your own when I go on holiday in September? With a big pay increase, of course.’
Anna’s eyes had lit up. ‘I’d like that.’
‘Great,’ Maggie said. ‘Give me a minute and I’ll get the details.’
Out in the back room, Maggie found the event schedule and got her diary out.
Kesha had called her last week and asked if she’d be free to join her family on their Italian holiday. It was all very last minute, but her sister had dropped out of the trip so there was a place going in the Tuscan villa they’d rented. Maggie’s first instinct had been to dismiss the idea, but in fact, with Anna so much more confident and capable now, taking a holiday was becoming a real possibility for the first time in years. The idea of catching up with her old school friend over a leisurely pasta lunch by the pool was almost irresistible. The kids would be splashing around, yes, so it wouldn’t be quite the same as the carefree, G’n’T-fuelled holidays they’d enjoyed when they were younger. But Oscar and Evie were gorgeous, Dave was pretty laidback, and it would be good to spend some time with them all.
The Vintage Teacup Club Page 22
