by Fiona Gibson
Yeah, he thinks, one I could have bought for £6.99 but never mind that now. He hands over five crisp tenners, bids her a terse goodbye and sees himself down the three flights of stairs and into the busy, dirty street.
The sky is the colour of pale ash, and across the road is a scruffy little newsagent’s … a newsagent’s full of cigarettes. He wants one as strongly as ever – no, more urgently if anything. His gums are tingling and he feels the slight light-headedness that only a big hit of nicotine can dispel. He crosses the road and stands outside the shop, studying its pitiful window display of packets of crayons and tennis balls. But he manages to walk on by, preparing himself to report that Jade’s ‘treatment’ was indeed miraculous and that he has no intention of involving himself with another nasty, stinky cancer stick for the rest of his life.
First, though, he’ll nip into the beleaguered mini-market by the bus stop and treat himself to his very last packet of ten.
Chapter Fifty-Three
‘You’re beautiful, Mummy!’ Freddie cries from the hallway as Kerry heads downstairs towards him. ‘You’re like a queen, but nicer.’
‘Oh, thank you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you think so.’
‘I want to marry you.’
‘You can’t marry Mummy, stupid,’ Mia retorts, appearing from the living room with a fistful of felt pens. ‘Mummy can only marry a grown-up man.’
‘Hmmm,’ Kerry murmurs with a smile. ‘Anyway, we’d better get over to the art club, okay? It starts in twenty minutes. You do remember I’m not going to stay there with you, don’t you?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’ Freddie shrugs, affecting nonchalance.
‘Lara will be there, though, and she says she’ll look after you both.’
‘Okay, Mummy,’ Mia says brightly. Kerry is overcome with relief that, since the party, there’s no doubt in her mind that her children have been accepted around here. Audrey-Jane and Tabitha have both been round to play, and were still enthusing over the contents of their party bags. There’s even talk of a sleepover before the holiday’s out.
‘Is Joe going?’ Freddie asks.
‘Erm, I’m not sure, Brigid hasn’t mentioned it. There’ll be plenty of people you know, though. The idea is, everyone will be given part of the wall to paint and all the pictures will make a huge mural. So maybe start thinking about what you’d like to do.’
As she takes the children’s coats from their hooks, Kerry wonders why Brigid was clearly not in the mood for chatting when Kerry dropped off Joe after swimming yesterday. Kerry hadn’t particularly wanted a prolonged discussion, in case Brigid had felt compelled to deliver a blow-by-blow account of her nocturnal frolics with Harvey – but she’d also found her briskness a little odd. Kerry still feels pretty reliant on her for company, and anyway, she reminds herself sternly, it’s none of her business who she – or Harvey for that matter – sleeps with.
As it turns out, Brigid is the first person Kerry sees as she and the children enter the church hall.
‘Hi,’ she booms, hurrying over with her hair scooped up prettily and an oilcloth apron over her sequinned top and faded jeans. ‘Didn’t know you were coming today.’
‘Mummy’s not staying,’ Mia announces.
‘Oh?’ Brigid grins and raises a brow. ‘Escaping, are you? I thought you were looking especially lovely today.’ Kerry laughs, feeling suddenly self-conscious in a favourite cornflower-blue dress from last summer, plus a black lace-knit cardi that’s a little more decorative than her usual style.
‘Just meeting a friend for lunch,’ she says casually as Mia and Freddie rush off to join the other children. ‘It’s James,’ she adds in a whisper.
‘I knew it! Told you he was keen. He wasn’t going to be put off by a bit of corn in an ear or us assuming he ran over his poor wife. So where are you going?’
‘Only The Glasshouse …’
‘Get you,’ Brigid grins. ‘Oh, and listen … I’m sorry I necked all your wine the other night. Not terribly good behaviour at a children’s party.’
‘You were fine. Anyway, the kids’ part had officially finished by then. Um … so did Harvey drop you off okay?’
‘Yep, sweet man.’ Brigid flushes slightly.
‘Isn’t he?’ Kerry says in a teasing voice. ‘Thought you two were getting on very well at my place.’
With a small spluttering noise, Brigid shakes her head. ‘Oh, sure, he’s lovely, but you know … not really my type. Bit young and flighty with no proper job and what sounds like a hopeless flatmate.’
‘Oh, I know what you mean.’ Kerry smiles.
‘Anyway,’ Brigid says briskly, ‘off you go, have a lovely time and give me a full report later. I have a very good feeling about this lunch.’
*
Kerry has, she realises as the vast seafood platter arrives, become the kind of person who’s hugely excited to eat in a grown-up restaurant that doesn’t have colour-in place mats or anything crumb-coated.
‘This looks amazing,’ she exclaims, admiring the array of clams, scallops and langoustines on a vast granite board. ‘Wow. I don’t know what to try first.’
‘You are funny,’ James says with a chuckle.
‘Am I? Why?’ She takes a scallop and eats it. It’s the most delicious thing she can remember tasting, but then she does exist on a diet of bog-standard child-friendly fare these days.
‘I don’t know … and I wouldn’t want you to take this the wrong way. It’s just … your enthusiasm, that’s all. It’s almost childlike.’
She smirks. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to start throwing food.’
‘No, I mean in a positive sense. When I was doing my website work, I’d bring clients here occasionally and they’d just sit and eat, hardly taking anything in. They might as well have been in a Little Chef.’
‘They’re spoiled then,’ Kerry declares. ‘They probably eat like that three times a week whereas I probably have a scallop about once a decade.’
James chuckles. ‘I can tell, the way you’re hoovering them up. More wine?’
‘Yes please. Better not have too much though. Can’t be staggering back to the hall, you know: “Did you hear, Kerry Tambini dumped her kids at the mural-painting thing and went off and got plastered with a man?”’
‘You’d be the talk of the town,’ he agrees.
‘Doesn’t take much, does it?’ She sips her glass of chablis. ‘So, are you from round here originally, or did you do the escape-to-the-coast thing too?’
‘Yep, pretty much,’ he says, skimming over his North London childhood as they slowly devour the seafood, and explaining how one particularly lovely day trip here had been the trigger for he and a pregnant Amy to move.
‘Same with us. It was flukey really, how everything felt so perfect – the sky just the right shade of blue, no one having their ice cream swiped by a seagull, and then my aunt deciding she’d had enough of England …’
‘So it felt like it was meant to be?’ he suggests.
Kerry nods, pronging a deliciously plump mussel. ‘But of course, it turned out to be very, very wrong, although I didn’t realise that at the time …’ When she glances up from her plate, James is studying her. ‘Do you ever speak to Amy these days?’
‘The weird thing is, she called the other day, right out of the blue.’
‘Oh?’
He pauses. ‘Er … she wanted to tell me she’s coming back – moving back to Shorling, I mean. She’s found herself a flat.’
‘Really? Wow.’ Ah, here we go. It’s been a lovely lunch but maybe I should have mentioned sooner that I’m on the verge of getting back together with my ex-wife …
‘Is that weird for you?’ Kerry asks.
He shrugs. ‘Not really. It’s a big enough town for us both to live our lives without constantly bumping into each other. Anyway, I think she just wants to try and salvage something with Luke, now she’s discovered the charming Brian has turned out to be addicted to internet porn.’ He sniggers, his grey eyes spark
ling appealingly.
‘Ah, not good. What about you and her, though? Don’t you suspect she’s coming back for you too? Sorry if I’m prying …’
‘No, not at all. I don’t think that’s part of her plan, though. We’re completely over.’
‘You sound so sure! How can you be certain?’
‘I know myself, Kerry.’
‘You’ve kept her piano these past two years,’ she reminds him with a smile.
James shrugs. ‘Yeah. Well, Luke might learn to play one day.’
‘That sounds really likely.’ She laughs, not sure she entirely believes him, but enjoying his company hugely. ‘I’ve had the loveliest time, James,’ she adds as they leave the restaurant. ‘The food was fantastic and the place was so grown-up – in a good way, I mean …’
‘We could go somewhere with laminated menus and ice cream sundaes next time if you’d prefer …’
‘Well, it did feel a little odd not being given a pot of crayons. That’s my only criticism.’
He laughs as they meander beside the harbour, and she’s about to add another quip when he stops her, taking her hand in his. ‘I’ve really enjoyed this, Kerry. It’s been a lovely afternoon.’
‘Well, it’ll be my treat next time,’ she says, her heart quickening at the sensation of his skin against hers.
‘Great,’ he says. She feels him studying her again, then, startlingly, he kisses her – a proper long, sweet kiss on the lips. Anyone could walk past and see – ‘She’d better hurry up if she’s going to be in time to pick up those poor children!’ But right at this moment, with the cool wind in her hair and the salty breeze against her face, Kerry doesn’t care a bit.
Chapter Fifty-Four
It’s surprised Rob, how he’s warmed to Candida over the past few days. She’s dropped by at Nadine’s flat several times and has been easy, pleasant company. (There have been no further sightings of Jens, thankfully, although Rob half expects him to burst in unannounced and wrestle him to the ground).
‘So you’re still working with Eddy, Nadine?’ Candida says over a gin and tonic one evening.
‘Yes, for the moment,’ Nadine says. Rob clamps his back teeth together as she gives him a quick, apologetic glance.
‘Hmmm.’ Candida purses her lips. ‘I get the feeling he plays with you, darling, and I’m not sure I like it.’
‘In what way?’ Nadine asks.
‘Well,’ her mother says, ‘what about the way he treated you on that tawdry little magazine you were on together?’
‘You mean I’m Hot?’ Nadine laughs.
Candida turns to Rob and flashes a mischievous smile. She is, he realises now, probably only a few years older than him. In her pale blue cashmere sweater and a swishy black skirt, with her highlighted hair casually pulled back, she looks far younger than she did in the restaurant.
‘Yes, that one. Gosh, darling, I couldn’t believe you were actually working there. Remember you had to answer the phone, “Hello, I’m Hot”?’ Candida laughs. ‘And you said to Eddy, “Please can I say, “Hello, I’m Hot magazine”, because everyone used to say, “Oooh, are you?” But he wasn’t having any of it.’
‘That’s just what he’s like, Mummy. He’s an idiot.’ She chuckles, and it strikes Rob that he rarely sees her relaxed like this.
‘You can say that again.’ Candida rolls her eyes at him. ‘I’d call it ritual humiliation, darling …’
Rob is relieved when the conversation moves on to Nadine’s childhood, and Candida’s rarefied life in Zurich; he is amazed that anyone can fill up their time with little more than lunches and shopping. It’s impossible to dislike her, though.
‘I think you’ll be a wonderful father to this baby,’ she says warmly as he and Nadine see her off in a cab to the famous Charles and Alicia’s.
‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘I’ll do my best, anyway.’
Maybe, he reflects, it wasn’t that Nadine was more relaxed tonight, but that the grotto was so much nicer with Candida around. The fact that this is virtually his home now – and will be officially by the end of the week, when the house sale completes – is something he’s not keen to dwell upon right now.
*
Nadine goes to bed early these days. Well, maybe not just ‘these days’; perhaps that’s always been her natural pattern, to change into her little tartan pyjama shorts and vest top at around 9 p.m. It strikes Rob, not for the first time, how bizarre it is that he barely knew her un-pregnant, when she wouldn’t have known what stretch marks were, or that certain aromatherapy oils are beneficial during labour.
Tonight, though, he needs to talk to her, and feels that in bed – where she can’t start pacing up and down and rearranging cushions – is the best place to do it. So by nine thirty he is tucked up beside her, pretending to read while reflecting that only children and the unwell retire to bed at this hour.
She yawns, places her magazine on the floor and clicks off her bedside light. She’ll be fast asleep in a minute. Better make it quick.
‘Er, Nadine …’ Rob starts, twisting a corner of the duvet between finger and thumb.
‘Mmm,’ she says. ‘Nice seeing Mummy, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, it was. She’s easy to have around.’ Never mind that. I need to know if you were telling the truth about there being no possibility of this being Eddy’s child …
She has turned away, and despite his lingering uneasiness, his hand comes to rest on her bump. Although he can’t feel it yet, he can sense life in there, and movement too. According to Nadine, who pores over websites on foetal development, the baby is already the size of an avocado.
Nadine twists round to face him and kisses him lightly on the lips. ‘That was nice of Mummy to say you’ll be a wonderful dad.’
‘Yeah.’ Rob shrugs. ‘Well, we’ll see.’
‘I think you will be.’
‘I’ll try,’ he says sheepishly, allowing her to wrap her arms around him and pull him close.
She kisses him again. ‘You’ll be amazing, I just know you will. Oh, I’m sorry I’ve been so moody and horrible lately. I just can’t help it, Rob. It’s like I have no control over my feelings or the things I say …’ Without warning her eyes fill with tears.
‘Hey,’ he murmurs, overcome with an urge to protect her. ‘It’s okay. Don’t cry. It’s all going to be fine …’
‘I don’t know how you put up with me,’ she adds, wiping her wet eyes on the sheet.
Rob pulls her towards him, stroking her hair and kissing her until he senses her relaxing in his arms. God, though – she is beautiful, possibly even more so now she’s starting to fill out a little, her angular little body acquiring soft curves. He touches her bump, leaving his hand there as she slips towards sleep. And he decides that this child feels absolutely his, at least for now.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Kerry tries to make sure her lessons are relaxed. She chats to pupils before and afterwards, rather than booking them back-to-back with no gaps in between; yet she can often tell more about someone from what’s not said. For instance, she knows that shy Lucia wishes her mum wouldn’t stay during her lessons, watching intently from the armchair as if at a concert. She knows, too, that Tristan and Freya – thirteen-year-old twins who share a lesson – are fiercely competitive, each watching intently as the other plays, and prickling with irritation when no mistakes are made.
And she knows that something is going on with Harvey, that he’s not his usual, easy-going self. Although he has clearly practised, he plays stiffly as if just going through the motions. When she shows him some chords, then asks him to try them, it’s obvious he hasn’t really been listening. Buddy watches, subdued, from the corner of the room.
‘So, next Saturday as usual?’ she asks as the lesson ends.
‘Um, I can’t make next week,’ he says, ‘or the one after that, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh … so you’re still doing children’s parties, then?’
He shakes his head and smiles. ‘No, it
’s a job – a proper acting job. My agent called over Christmas. A producer she knows was about to start touring a play, and it had been through rehearsals when the lead actor fell ill, and then the understudy had some kind of personal crisis …’
‘Wow. So you got the part, then?’
‘Yes, well, Victoria, my agent, did a fantastic job selling me as the amiable young dad … at least, young-ish. You can get away with a lot on stage, fortunately. And the audition went well – better than I could have hoped for, considering how rusty I am. But then, they were pretty desperate by then.’ He laughs self-deprecatingly.
Kerry smiles. ‘I’m so pleased for you. So no more running for cover in a hail of barley sugars.’
‘Yeah.’ He smirks. ‘I suspect it’ll still be a pretty young audience, though. Children and animals – maybe I’ve lost my mind …’
‘What’s the play?’ she asks, filling two mugs from the kettle.
‘A new production of 101 Dalmatians – with real dogs. Only six, though, thank Christ. I think that’s what swung it at the audition – my natural affinity with the canine species.’ Kerry laughs, relieved that he’s dropped the guardedness he’d maintained during his lesson. She realises, too, how much she’ll miss these Saturdays.
‘So, definitely no more Harvey Chuckles,’ she says.
‘That’s right. And when the play’s finished, I’m going to be running some drama workshops with kids and teenagers at the arts centre.’
‘More working with children …’ She smiles.
‘Yes, but at least they’ll want to be there. Apparently, they’ve wanted to set up a drama course for ages. It’s very Shorling, isn’t it?’
‘Sure is. Maybe I’ll sign up Freddie and Mia. So … are you planning a ceremonial burning of the costume?’
‘Nope, tempting though it is to have a huge pyre on the beach. But Ethan’s taking over. He’s done one already – turns out he has a far more natural affinity for that kind of thing than I ever had.’
‘I can imagine,’ she smirks. There’s a stilted pause, and she’s overcome with an urge to find out what happened that night after Mia’s party. Brigid’s been a little awkward ever since, and Harvey definitely wasn’t himself during his lesson. Are they seeing each other, she wonders, but aren’t sure about telling her? She can’t imagine why they’d keep it secret … ‘Harvey,’ Kerry starts, ‘you know the other evening, after you’d been such a star at Mia’s party …’
