A nod from Helen and we started. The Vivaldi Allegro from Spring: the usual smile on the adults’ faces followed by frightened yelps from the baby. Calming down to What a Wonderful World. Later, the inevitable indulgence of the Arrival of the Queen of Sheba.
We made our way over the common to their pink-ballooned house.
‘Are you speaking to me?’ he asked.
‘Maybe.’
‘I couldn’t help it. You’ll understand when I tell you.’
‘Everyone was holding me responsible.’
‘Well… quite rightly, in a way.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll explain later.’
It was time for pass-the-baby. Friends comparing stories of births and christenings, moist-eyed aunts and enchanted eight-year-old girls.
‘Look at your boyfriend - he’s a natural,’ said a pregnant woman who’d asked Helen for the Trio’s card. I turned and saw Jeremy rocking baby Florence in his arms. ‘Are you two thinking of…’
‘No. Well… not yet.’ I put a strawberry meringue and a cherry cupcake on my pink plate.
‘Why don’t you hold Florrie for a bit?’ Jeremy asked.
‘Oh no, too small.’
‘I’ll help you, you just need to support her head. Come on, put that plate down.’
She immediately sensed the tension in my arms; her face puckered.
‘Sit down,’ he said, stroking her velvety-bald head.
‘I thought you didn’t like babies,’ I whispered.
‘Shush - she might hear you,’ he said, opening up the spidery fingers of a tiny hand.
What was going on here? Love had made him go completely soft. And it was catching; I’d suddenly lost interest in stuffing myself with sweet pink food. I could hear the faint whistle of her breath, feel her grow heavy as she sank into me and fell back to sleep on my lap. It was crazy but I felt strangely in tune with this friend of a friend’s baby who I probably wouldn’t see again until she was a spoilt three-year-old Queen of Sheba.
And strangely in tune with myself; I’d seldom ever noticed the twinges of ovulation, but at that moment the little needles of pain surprised me with their insistence. And when I thought about it, with their existence; clearly my pill-taking had reached a critical level of haphazard. I pondered how, at this very moment, I could hand Florrie back and become a future mother myself. Except that the intended father was possibly infertile, over a thousand miles away and - judging by his switched-off mobile - visiting his wife in hospital.
Florrie started to grizzle and make pouty mouthing movements. I wondered how it felt to have a baby at one’s breast; Charlotte had said it was the next best thing to sex. Then the snorting and mewing started and an aunt swooped down and took Florrie away.
The shawl descended, its grey-blue tones in stark contrast to the rosy happiness around me. I went to find Jeremy.
‘Freddy’s taken him to meet his rabbit,’ said Florrie’s father. ‘Suddenly spotted him as the guy who looked after him and made up stories about all his plastic animals.’
Spitting rain was keeping all but a couple of teenage smokers indoors. But there was Jeremy by the hutch, impressing Freddy with a running commentary of the rabbit’s thoughts and aspirations.
Freddy eyed me with interest. ‘Does your wife make stories too?’
‘Only in her head, but maybe that’s why she’s so good at listening to them.’ He took my arm. ‘Time to go?’
‘Yours or mine?’ I asked when we got back.
‘Yours. I want to see this new pin-board, check I’m sufficiently represented.’
I opened my door. ‘There. Picture of us right in the middle. Although maybe I should move things around a bit before Javi next comes over.’
I ran my eyes over Mitch’s postcards. The chunks of green-velveted rocks plunging into the sea in Madeira (‘could be Jersey!’); the sandy beach and pale green sea at St Maarten (‘an island with our name and a French and Dutch side!’); a St Lucian playing a banjo (‘remember me trying to teach you?’).
So what does your father say on these postcards?’
‘The picture always brings back a memory… Helen’s given me another today - let’s see…’ I pulled it out of my bag and opened it. ‘Oh…’
‘The Barbados Green Monkey,’ Jeremy read.
I turned it over. ‘Do you still like monkeys? Thought of you when we went to the Wildlife Reserve…’
‘When did the monkey thing start then?’
‘Jersey zoo, I suppose. He’d take us there when he came back to visit.’ Sometimes buying us big cuddly animals; other times struggling to find enough cash for lollies.
We sat down on the sofa with some tea. He received a text that made him smile; I received one telling me what I knew already - that Javi had visited ‘V’ in hospital, and now had to dash off to Málaga with the group.
‘Javi alright?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And Violeta?’
‘He doesn’t say. Do we care?’
‘Yes we do. You want everything to go well for her so that she gets better quickly. Good karma, remember. Positive for her is positive for you.’
It had only been a week, but I was already positively fed up with being positive about Violeta.
‘You’re not going to be silly about this, are you? Because if you are you could ruin everything. You do—’
‘Yes, yes I know.’
‘Just think, you could be living there this summer.’
I looked over at him. Since when was he so keen for me to move to Granada? But he’d had another smile-inducing text and was tapping out a reply.
Then he put his phone on the table and turned to me, pulled me closer. ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking. If it turns out that you and Javi can’t have a kid, I’d like to help you out.’
‘Oh my God - really? That would be…’ I hugged him and he patted my tummy. Then it struck me: he was offering me a consolation. What he knew to be the ultimate prize, and probably a final one. He was leaving.
‘So… how was Cádiz?’
‘It was… perfect.’
‘Did you…’ Did you meet someone so perfect that, even after just a week, you knew you’d be leaving me after ten years.
‘He had a couple of days off so he came to see me.’
‘Who?’
‘Who d’you think?’ he said with a chuckle. ‘He’s got an idea for his next show - he wants it to be entirely narrative and I’ve been helping him with some ideas.’
‘Oh. That’s good.’ An artistic alliance, probably leading to a lasting friendship.
‘And… well, I don’t know how to describe it, uh…’ He smiled and bit his lip. ‘God, this finally happens to me and all I can come up with is clichés.’
‘You’re in love with him.’
He looked at the floor. ‘Completely.’
‘But he’s not…’
‘He’s not gay, no.’
‘So…’
‘But he says he’s never found a woman who really… excited him.’
I didn’t recall him having any problems with excitement.
‘And he’s weary of all the female attention he gets. Probably explains his gentlemanly behaviour with you - it must have been a relief to spend time with a lovely girl who wasn’t throwing herself at him.’
Throwing myself: I hoped Nando didn’t think I’d done that. A mutual attraction, and just maybe, at the time, a little more…
‘I’m sorry Yol - you don’t still have a bit of a crush on him, do you?’
‘No, of course not.’ I smiled at him. ‘I’m just worried for you, that’s all.’
‘Well don’t be, because… he says he feels the same.’
Nando. Gay. I started to feel rather nauseous. All that pink food. ‘You mean…’
‘We’re getting so close, I think… he just needs time. And I’m happy to give him all the time he needs.’
He would wait, forever if need be, to have sex with Nando. No doubt wo
ndering when it would be. How it would be. Not knowing - thanks to Nando’s admirable promise-keeping - that I could tell him. I hugged him and closed my eyes tightly on the memory. But it wouldn’t go away. This is how it will be, I could have said. He will hold you firmly, murmuring Spanish in your ear. Then it will be happening. Fluently: that sinuous, sensitive body his very being - so exquisitely made for sex. Fast: one’s own pleasure embarrassingly swiftly assured. And then there’ll be the blissful tenderness of his arms - later, even more painful to dwell on than the act itself. Except that, for you, there may not be any pain; it could be just the start of your lives entwining.
‘Yol?’
‘Yes,’ I said into his chest.
‘Remember what we said - there’ll always be an us, okay? You know I can’t be without you. Don’t start getting—’
‘So we could both… How far is Seville from Granada?’ I asked, trying to smile. ‘We could be in Andalucía together.’
‘About three hours. Not really a day trip. But that’s good, it means we’d have to make it a few days at a time. Maybe a week or more if they were both off touring… But no more talking like this, it’s making me nervous.’
Chapter 21
engañar vt to cheat, trick
‘So… if you and Nando were a couple, and you helped me have a baby with Javi, what d’you think he’d feel about that?’
‘What? Where did that come from! I’m trying to concentrate here.’ Jeremy pointed the controller at the television; another house exploded into being. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said.
I wasn’t sure whether he was referring to Nando’s reaction or my ability to pay the Monopoly Mayfair rent. He started developing Leicester Square.
‘Uh. Thought you didn’t like the West End.’
‘I do like some musicals - Les Misérables, the ballet boy one…’
‘If you’d agreed to see Priscilla with me I wouldn’t have been tempted to take up David’s offer.’
‘Oh come on, you’ll be fine. Just don’t mention it to Javi.’
‘Not mentioning is the same as lying.’
‘Well mention it in a few days’ time then, but not… Oh, look what you’ve made me do - I’ve just gone and sold three houses instead of buying them.’
‘Good,’ I said, grabbing his controller and ending his turn before he could put it right.
‘Hey! You little cheat!’
I shook my controller to roll the dice. ‘So what was it like playing Monopoly with Nando? I just can’t imagine… Bet he cheats.’
‘Why? That’s very unfair. And he didn’t, actually.’
‘Or was just very good at it.’
‘A-ha: jail. Serves you right for your slanderous comments.’
‘Good, keeps me out of harm’s way for a bit.’
‘You could show him how to play it on the Wii when he’s here and I’m at Winchester.’
‘There won’t be time - I’m teaching all day and he’s dancing all night.’
‘A nice wind-down after the show. I’m sure he’d love it.’
Sitting here with hot chocolate, trying not to remember how we’d wound down after the show last time; that was not going to happen.
‘So what about after-the-show tonight? Are you sure David’s not going to try anything?’ He passed me the controller. ‘Right, six or an eight and you’re all mine.’
‘Uh. Course he’s not. Anyway, he won’t be invited back - just imagine if Javi called.’
The phone rang. ‘Talk of the devil,’ Jeremy said.
‘The angel, if you don’t mind.’
I picked it up and he told me how Almería was all arranged, we’d cuddle up in the bus on the Saturday morning and be there for lunch. I wasn’t to worry, his mother and sister were used to speaking slow Spanish for their students and were very keen to meet me. It sounded like maybe his father wasn’t, but Javi was moving on to how it would be sunny, how we would eat in their courtyard garden then perhaps take a stroll along the beach. The thought of it shone a ray of warmth and comfort over me. One that was probably designed to see me through the next part of the conversation.
I asked how Violeta was doing, prompting a grinning thumbs up from Jeremy, and learnt that it looked like the operation had been a success. As usual, he told me how she’d asked about me. And then he said that she’d loved both our pieces.
There was a silence in which I realised that meant she’d been to his apartment, and he probably realised that he would have preferred not to have let that drop.
‘Good,’ I said, wrestling with a need to ask where she’d sat to listen to them. In the kitchen with the CD player? Or - please, no - in our music room, where he’d first tried to kiss me, where we had made music and, on one mutually congratulating occasion, love.
Jeremy was making rolling motions with his hand to make me say more; I flapped a wave of reassurance. But meanwhile, Javi was letting me know about an agreeable change in Violeta.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘It makes her more calm.’
I considered repeating oh. I looked at Jeremy and shrugged, watched his face become serious.
‘This is why is more easy to talk with her about you,’ he explained. ‘Is good thing, Yoli. Ah… I have a student. I will call you later, no?’
‘That would be nice. Oh - but not too much later, I’ll be out.’ A further crease of concern in Jeremy’s face.
‘Where?’
‘I’m going to a show.’ Jeremy shook his head and waved his hand from side to side.
‘Jeremy. Or… not with David,’ Javi said.
‘Yes.’
‘With who, Yoli?’
‘David.’ Jeremy put a hand over his face and looked at me through his fingers; I made a shooing motion with my hand. ‘But I’ll be back before eleven, you could—’
‘I don’t understand, why a big show, a big… present. You could meet in a cafe as friends.’
‘Well it’s not that much of a—’
‘I know. Because he has much money, it is nothing.’
‘No! His friend got us discounted tickets.’
‘But not one for Jeremy.’
‘Jeremy doesn’t like musicals, too many auditions for them as a child.’
‘No, is that he wants you alone.’
‘Uh… it’s not like that. Please, don’t let’s start this again. I mean, how d’you think I feel about…’ A vehement shake of the head from Jeremy; I turned so I couldn’t see him.
‘Ah… so is why you go.’
‘You know it isn’t, he asked me ages ago. Look… I’ll call you when I get in, okay?’
‘No, I don’t want you to do this, like making report.’
A burst of music and ‘no te preocupes, es la tuya’ from the television. Don’t worry, it’s yours. Jeremy must have switched the game back on by mistake.
‘Who is that?’
‘The man in the Monopoly game - we’re playing it on the Wii.’
‘On what?’
‘You know, playing it on the television with controllers.’
‘But… is Spanish man.’
‘Of course, we always use the Spanish version. I’ve picked up all sorts of useful phrases, like “has sacado doble”!’
‘Muy bien,’ he said with a little chuckle. ‘So Jeremy is there.’
‘Yes.’
‘You are never alone, Yoli.’
‘What? Course I am.’ Although it was true that Jeremy and I seemed to be spending more time together than ever, perhaps now that it looked like we might be going to be living three hours rather than three seconds apart. ‘It doesn’t stop me missing you.’
‘Good. But is not long to wait this time. I’m sorry I am so… I hope you enjoy the show. I will call tomorrow, yes? Besos, mi Yolandita.’
‘Muchos besos.’
‘Well? Can’t have been as good as the film.’ He took the programme off me and started to flick through. ‘Come in and tell me about it.’
I showed him the co
stumes and described others, but was distracted by Jeremy’s attire - or rather lack of it; there was an unspoken rule that we didn’t see each other in underwear, but there he was in brazen boxers and singlet.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘Felt like a parent of a teenager on a dodgy date.’
‘Dodgy? Only a few months ago you were suggesting I gave him another chance.’
‘Well, I suppose Javi’s won me round.’
‘Now he’s part of the Andalucian plan.’
‘Don’t - we’re not allowed to talk like that, remember? Gives me the…’
‘Willies?’
He frowned. ‘That’s very coarse, Yol.’ He put down the programme. ‘So how was it with David?’
‘Fine. Well, so-so - bit intense over coffee afterwards. He’s bothered about how Vanessa doesn’t have enough time for him.’
‘He still wants you back, doesn’t he.’
‘No, no. And too bad if he did - even if I wasn’t with Javi I could never go back to having a relationship where I’d have to try so bloody hard. I’d rather be on my own.’
‘Bravo,’ he said, pulling me over, his golden-haired thigh touching mine.
‘Go and put your dressing gown on, you’ll get cold.’
‘Oh yes, pardon me.’ He went off to the bedroom.
I took out my phone: no missed calls or texts. But then he’d said he wouldn’t ring until tomorrow. If I wasn’t with Javi. A shiver passed through me. One of those distancia moments. Or perhaps something else: telepathy, or just a sudden physical need to hear his voice. I called but there was no answer. A last minute decision to support a friend playing at Le Chien or another club; I’d hear about it tomorrow. And tomorrow will be another day less until we’re together again. The sooner I go to bed, the sooner it will come.
Jeremy came back. One more drink, one more hug. Much longer than Javi would have liked me to have, but for some reason I couldn’t let go.
‘Triple pay on a Sunday. In fact you may as well just tell me which flights you want and I’ll book them now.’
‘No you won’t Jeremy, that’s too much. Besides, I’m quite enjoying myself.’
‘I’ll get you another tea,’ he said, stepping over my legs and the piles of receipts.
FLAMENCO BABY Page 19
