Deep down I know Mum cares, but she’s removed from the situation in a way that Aunt Viv and Hugo aren’t. Aunt Viv saw the crash. She nursed me in her home, washed the dried blood off my lips and chauffeured a quivering wreck to her first counselling session. I urged Aunt Viv and Hugo not to tell my parents the whole truth about Louis’s father. The version we gave, in return for me cooperating and going to AA, was that Matt became impossible to live with when he couldn’t sell the house or pay the mortgage; I couldn’t take it. We split up. My priority was to get better. He vanished off the face of the earth.
*
As I approach the coffee shop it begins to drizzle and my stomach is clenched with anxiety. I glance at my watch: 10.30. I’m fifteen minutes early. My mobile rings, making me almost jump out of my skin. Janey’s name lights up the screen. Relieved, I take the call, wondering how I am going to tell her the events of the past week. ‘How was your honeymoon?’
Janey and Paul went to Puglia in southern Italy. ‘Think turquoise sea, shaded courtyards planted with lemon and orange trees, meals al fresco,’ she sighs as drizzle turns to serious rain. ‘I’ll bore you senseless with Paul’s pics. Where are you?’
‘Notting Hill.’
‘What are you up to?’
‘Meeting someone,’ I say, my heart in my mouth.
‘Who?’
I shelter myself in the doorway of St Peter’s Church, where Hugo sang in his choir. I tell Janey the whole story, from the moment Ben revealed his feelings towards me after their wedding, to Emily’s broken arm, to our kiss and then finally to Matthew calling.
‘Fuck me,’ Janey gasps. ‘I should never leave the country.’
‘I have to see him, don’t I?’
Janey is ominously quiet until she says, ‘Do you really think people can change?’
‘I did.’
‘Yeah, but that’s different. You were always a good person, Polly.’
*
When I enter the café I scan the room, but there’s no sign of Matt. I rush into the ladies to dry off and find myself standing in front of the mirror, brushing my hair and applying lipstick. I take off my jacket. I’m wearing a slim-fitting navy tunic top with jeans and suede boots, my long dark hair falling down my shoulders. I scoop it into a ponytail. Dissatisfied, I let it go and grab a tissue, wiping away the lipstick. What am I doing?
*
The first thing is I see is his dark-blond hair, cut short again. He’s clean-shaven and wearing a pale-blue shirt. When he sets eyes on me, he stops playing with the menu and gets up from the table. My pulse is racing. He looks like the old Matthew, the Matthew I was so attracted to in the bar. When he holds out his hand, as if greeting a client, it occurs to me that he might be as nervous as I am.
‘Thanks for agreeing to see me. Can I order you a coffee? Tea? Something stronger?’
His mouth curls into a slight smile, that quickly vanishes when I say, ‘I don’t drink anymore. I gave up a long time ago.’
Matt pulls out a chair, beckons me to sit down. His politeness makes me feel uneasy. ‘I’ll have a green tea,’ I say, after looking at the drinks menu.
After Matt has ordered an espresso and green tea, he asks me if I’m cold. ‘We could sit at a table further away from the door?’ he suggests, when a couple walk in, bringing a blast of cold fresh air with them.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, placing my mobile on the table. ‘Matthew, why did you get in touch?’
‘I want to get to know my son, that’s all.’
‘Why now?’
‘That’s a fair question, and the only thing I can say is I’ve grown up. I have different priorities now. I want to be a part of his life and make up for lost time. When I think of what I put you through, it’s, well, terrible.’ He raises a hand to stop me from speaking. ‘Let me explain, please. It’s the least I can do.’
I nod.
‘I was in a mess with the house, bogged down in debt and fear, but that’s no excuse,’ he concedes, just as I’m about to pre-empt him. ‘You have every right to hate me. I bet Hugo and Aunt Viv are hiding round the corner with cricket bats,’ he attempts as a joke to break the ice, but I remain cool. ‘How is Louis?’ Matthew asks, warmth in his voice.
‘He’s well.’
‘Does he ask about me?’
‘Of course he does. Most of his friends have dads and he’s getting to that age when, well, it’s hard knowing what to say.’
‘What do you say?’
‘That you had problems.’
‘That’s a kind way of putting it,’ he says, looking ashamed.
As our drinks arrive, my mobile vibrates.
‘Please. Take it.’ He empties a sachet of sugar into his coffee.
I shake my head. ‘So what has happened since … since …’
‘Since I … hurt you,’ he says quietly. ‘After you’d gone I got help, Polly. I wasn’t fit for anything, least of all to be a dad. When I think of the way I treated you, it makes me feel sick.’ He drinks his espresso in one go, orders another, unable to meet my eye. ‘But a man can change. Once I declared myself bankrupt I wiped the slate clean, went to see a counsellor to sort my shit out. I went on this anger-management course, I was sceptical at first, as you can imagine, but when I met others like me I realised I wasn’t alone.’ He leans closer towards me. ‘I didn’t set out to hurt you, or Louis. I lost it … up here.’ He taps his head. ‘I wasn’t sleeping, I was drinking too much, we both were, and I couldn’t handle the shame of failing. I’d put my life into that house …’
‘But you weren’t the only one who lost out when the market crashed.’
‘I know, I know, but I didn’t have the tools to deal with it,’ he says. ‘All sense of perspective went out the window. I took it out on you and I’m sorry. I still see a shrink. She told me I was ready to see you again. I couldn’t risk doing anything until I was certain I was fit to be a father, to be in your life again. I can’t step in and out and cause any more damage.’ My mobile vibrates again. ‘I’m guessing all your friends and family …’
‘They’re protective.’
He shrugs his shoulders. ‘I don’t have that problem. I’m lucky, or not so lucky, maybe.’ There’s that vulnerability in his eyes; it’s what attracted me to him in the first place. Despite his outward confidence I saw another side to Matt that no one else saw.
‘What’s he like, our little boy?’ he asks. ‘Have you got a picture?’
I pick up my mobile and find a picture of him, grinning like a clown, chocolate cake smudged on his lips. It was taken at Maisy’s birthday party. I hand it over to Matthew. He smiles. ‘He’s cute. Lovely big brown eyes like yours,’ he says. ‘He’s got your thick hair too. He’s beautiful, Polly.’
I find myself softening. ‘He’s the best.’
‘When can I see him?’
‘I don’t know.’ He has no rights, Polly. Walk away.
‘I promise you can trust me.’
‘I don’t know,’ I repeat. ‘I need time.’
*
As I head back towards Notting Hill Gate, trying to make sense of the morning, my phone keeps on ringing. First, it’s Aunt Viv, then it’s Hugo, followed closely by …
‘How did it go?’ Janey asks. ‘Are you going to see him again?’
*
That night I tuck Louis up in bed. ‘We’re very grateful for Jim and Maisy, aren’t we,’ I say, ‘and for all the fun you had with them today. We’re lucky to have so many lovely friends and family.’ I think about Matthew again and try to imagine being in his shoes, having no Aunt Viv, no Hugo, no Janey. Whatever he did to me, I didn’t help matters by drinking, and he’s never had any family to support him.
‘Big Ben and Emily too, Mum.’
‘Yes, of course sweetheart.’ I feel guilty. I’ve barely had time to think about him through all this. I don’t want to shut him out. I stroke Louis’s hair. How do I tell him his father is back and wants to see him?
‘Meet us tomorrow,’
I’d said to Matthew on the telephone earlier this evening, ‘at the top of Primrose Hill, where the William Blake etching is.’
Aunt Viv is struggling to support my decision. I tried to reassure her, but it was in vain.
‘What about Ben?’ she tried again. ‘Don’t throw a chance of real happiness away.’
‘I’m not taking him back. This is about Louis.’
As I make my way into the kitchen I remember Aunt Viv and me, almost four and a half years ago, sitting in here, having lunch, Aunt Viv telling me the games she’d played with Louis while I’d been to an appointment with Stephanie. She’d created a safe haven for Louis and me.
I understand why she is the most protective of all. When I left Matt I was a broken vase. Aunt Viv picked up the shattered glass and slowly pieced me back together again.
40
2009
‘I’m back,’ I call, turning the key to the flat.
Aunt Viv approaches me, Louis by her side dressed in denim dungarees.
‘Wow!’ I clap my hands as I watch him tottering towards me, before he topples over. Aunt Viv helps him up and he takes a few more steps before I scoop him into my arms. ‘You are such a clever monkey.’
Aunt Viv tells me they’ve been playing with pots and pans and wooden spoons.
‘Pots,’ Louis repeats.
‘We’ve been emptying wastepaper bins too.’
‘Sorry,’ I mouth when I see her sitting room now looks like a hurricane has visited.
She laughs. ‘We’ve danced around the flat as well, haven’t we, Louis? And we’ve made you a card.’
With Louis in my arms, I follow Aunt Viv into the sitting room and she shows me a piece of paper with red and yellow pencil crayon scribbles. ‘You have been a busy bee, haven’t you, with your great-aunt?’
‘Don’t call me that,’ Aunt Viv says looking away. ‘It makes me feel so old.’
*
While I put Louis down for a nap, Aunt Viv makes us something to eat. ‘So, how did it go?’ she asks, trying to sound casual when I know she is longing to talk about my session with Stephanie.
‘Aunt Viv, when did you start drinking?’ I ask. I have so many questions, questions neither Hugo or I had the courage to ask when we were younger.
‘I was ten. I stole some wine from the kitchen after overhearing someone in the village shop saying my father was having an affair. I was confused and certain Mum would find out. It didn’t occur to me at the time that the drink was numbing my fear; all I knew was it was like swallowing cough medicine.’
‘Mum never told me Granddad Arthur had an affair.’
‘He had a few, Polly. Granny Sue turned a blind eye many times.’
‘I worshipped him when I was little.’
‘Of course you did! So did I. Addicts are often good with children because they’ve never grown up themselves. Dad was fun, charming, lovable and forgiving too. He was a good man, until the drink got the better of him.’
‘You and Mum, you’re so different.’
‘Gina went the opposite way because she saw how drink damaged our family. She frets and worries because she’s always had to play the big sister role. I was the emotionally immature one.’
‘Our family had so many secrets. Mum should have told us about you.’
‘She had her reasons. We always think we’re doing the right thing to protect our children.’
‘How did you pull through?’ I ask, unsure if I would have had the strength of spirit to carry on if I’d lost my son, my brother, sister, my entire family and ended up behind bars.
‘I did want to end my life,’ she confides. ‘I understand why people hang themselves in their cells. All my waking hours were spent feeling tormented, wishing I could rewind, grieving …’ She pauses, as if this conversation is causing her too much pain. ‘Drugs and alcohol were rife in prison; they were the only things left. People self-harmed. To begin with I thought, “What the hell?” I took heroin inside. “Have a go on this, it’ll make your bird fly,”’ she says. ‘Your bird was your sentence.’
‘What changed?’
‘My father. Your Granddad Arthur visited me regularly. He was the only one. He forgave me and promised the others would too, in time. Mum never has. She’s tried to but … I’d had so many lives before the car crash. You need to see it from their side too, I’d used them all up, and more. Even prison wasn’t punishment enough.’
Aunt Viv tells me that Granddad Arthur sent her money when she was released; enough to help her fly to LA and get help.
‘So you had treatment in America?’
She nods. ‘I booked myself into a rehab clinic. I met this incredible man there, Tate. We became close. I lived with him for a time. He made me laugh. When we were encouraged to find true spirituality through God or a Higher Power he said, “Why God? Can’t we find it through George Harrison?”’ Aunt Viv smiles. ‘He loved the Beatles. We’d dance to them all night long.’
I ask her about the Higher Power stuff.
‘I believe God puts people in front of you when you need them. Tate was a gift. Often you’ll find people come into your life for a reason. Sometimes they’ll stay, sometimes they’re only meant to be around for a short time to help you find your way. I believe I’m meant to be here now.’ She touches my cheek with the palm of her hand. ‘With you.’
*
When I wake Louis, I breathe in the smell of sleep and warm blankets and milky skin. Holding him in my arms makes me realise how much I want to stay clean and live a fulfilled life. I owe it to Aunt Viv, to Hugo and, most importantly, my boy. He deserves a mother who will be there for him. I also owe it to myself. I’ve made some bad choices in my life. ‘I won’t ever let you down again,’ I promise him, touching his cheek.
Aunt Viv stands in the doorway, watching.
‘Here,’ I say, holding him out towards her.
She cradles him in her arms.
‘It must hurt, every day,’ I say, thinking of her loss.
‘It does, but I’ve done my time grieving. I have to live for today now. There’s a beautiful reading,’ she says, rocking Louis in her arms.
‘Is it the one in your bedroom?’ I ask. ‘In the frame?’
She nods. ‘I’m not sure who it’s by, but I know it off by heart.
‘There are only two days in every week,
That we should not worry about.
One is Yesterday
With its mistakes and cares,
Its faults and blunders, its aches and pains.
Yesterday has passed, forever beyond our control.
All the money in the world cannot bring back yesterday.
The other day we shouldn’t worry about is Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is beyond our control.
Tomorrow’s sun will rise either in splendour
Or behind a mask of clouds – but it will rise.
Until it does, we have no stake in tomorrow, for it is yet unborn.
This leaves only one day …’
‘Today,’ we both say together. Aunt Viv smiles at me, before she goes on,
‘Any person can fight the battles of just one day.
It is only when we add the burdens of yesterday and tomorrow
That we break down.
The experience of today doesn’t drive people mad –
It is the remorse of bitterness for something
Which happened yesterday,
And the dread of what tomorrow may bring.’
41
It’s Saturday morning and Louis and I are making pancakes for breakfast. Louis is wearing his little chef’s hat and apron, reminding me of being in Ben’s flat with Emily. It’s been a week since I saw Matthew, and I have agreed to meet him with Louis, for the first time, tomorrow morning. I keep on telling myself, one day at a time. Don’t worry about yesterday or if he’ll turn up next weekend or stick to his promise next month.
I watch Louis eating his pancake, sugar coating the corners of his mouth. ‘Louis,
I have something to tell you, sweetheart.’
‘Can I have another one, Mum?’
‘In a minute. Louis, your father has been in touch with me.’
The room turns silent, as if someone has pressed a pause button over us.
I put on a smile. ‘He wants to meet you.’
Louis thinks about this. ‘Today? Now?’
‘Tomorrow. I thought we could go for a walk on Primrose Hill together. What do you say?’
‘I could show him my stomp rocket.’ He slides off his stool and rushes into his bedroom, the thought of another pancake forgotten.
*
I see Matt from a distance, standing by the William Blake etching. He looks stylish in boots and jeans and he’s holding a large rectangular-shaped box wrapped in paper and tied in the middle with a thick blue ribbon. I clutch Louis’s hand with all my strength as I say, ‘There he is, Louis.’
‘The man with the present?’ Louis releases his hand and tears towards him.
I watch Matt bend down to take his son’s hand in his. ‘I like your coat, buddy,’ he says.
Earlier this morning I’d helped Louis dress in his best cords and navy-checked shirt and his army-print jacket. I’d brushed his hair, made sure his teeth were sparkling clean. Again, I found myself applying make-up. Why am I trying to impress him?
I can see Louis is more interested in the present than his father.
‘Oh right, yes, this is for you,’ Matt says, as I approach them. Matt mouths, ‘Thank you,’ as Louis unties the ribbon and greedily rips open the stripy wrapping paper. A few children stop to watch, reluctantly pulled away by their mother or father.
‘It’s a stunt scooter,’ says Matthew, helping Louis open the box. ‘Apparently it’s the coolest two-wheeled stunt scooter around!’
‘Wow!’ Louis jumps up and down in excitement at this flashy silver thing on wheels. ‘Can I have a go now?’
I stand back, irritated. Those scooters are expensive. It’s over the top, so obviously a present to show off and make Louis like him.
‘Let’s not play with it now,’ I say. ‘You wanted to show Matthew, er …’ I can’t bring myself to say ‘your dad’, ‘your stomp rocket.’
One Step Closer to You Page 23
