by Gil McNeil
‘Yes.’
‘Well, she’s Swedish, and we met on a job.’
‘Right.’
He stares at his feet. ‘I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.’
Three large glasses of whisky later I’m feeling very mellow, although I’m not sure I can stand up any more, and Daniel’s telling me about his first girlfriend, who was called Flora.
‘She sounds sweet.’
‘She was. I should have stayed at home and married her. I’d probably have kids by now, and a proper life instead of this fucking travelling circus I seem to have got myself into. God, I’m really hungry. Are you? Shall I get some food sent up?’
‘Yes, that would be—Christ, what time is it?’
‘It’s nearly eight.’
‘Fuck, I’m meant to be at Mum’s, serving canapés with a cheery smile on my face, not sitting getting pissed with you.’
‘Sod her.’
I laugh.
‘I mean it. This is your holiday, right?’
‘Yes, but.’
‘So sod her.’
‘Actually, you’re right, I don’t really need to be there. In fact, it’ll be hobble.’ Christ, I can’t say horrible now: I think I must be drunker than I thought. Maybe some food would be a good idea.
‘I just need to call Vin and check on the boys.’
‘I’ll get some menus sent up.’
Vin’s delighted. In fact, he thinks it’s brilliant. ‘She’s been going absolutely tonto.’
‘Oh God.’
‘Stop it; it’s fine. You stay and have supper. It’ll give me and Lou a brilliant excuse. We’ll say we’ve got to take the boys out for a pizza, and that way we all get to escape.’
‘She’ll be furious.’
‘It’s a good job she isn’t coming with us, then, isn’t it? Look, it’s not like she really needs us here, we’re only background interest. Anyway, I can’t stand here gabbing to you. I’ve got to go and break the news to Mum. God, this is going to be so great.’
‘See you later, then.’
‘Sure.’
‘Are you sure the boys are okay?’
‘They’re fine, and we’ve nearly finished building their pirate ships.’
The menus arrive and we order steak and chips and salads, which come with a bottle of wine and a waiter, who sets everything up on a table by the window and then leaves.
‘This looks wonderful.’
‘Good. Go on, it’s your turn now. Tell me all about your sordid past.’
‘There’s not much to tell, really.’
‘Make something up, then. Or tell me your top tips. I love getting top tips from girls.’
He pours us both some wine.
‘I can’t think of anything. Apart from how it’s not the end of the world.’
‘What isn’t?’
‘When things change. It feels like it is. But it’s not. I thought losing Nick was going to ruin everything, completely. And it did, of course, in some ways. But in some ways it’s better. Is that a terrible thing to say?’
‘No.’
‘It is. He deserves better than that – everyone does. But it’s true.’
‘Do you miss him?’
‘All the time. Mainly for the boys, but not just for them. I’d like to tell him things, show him how we’re doing. I want him to see how they’re growing up. He’d be so proud of them, I know he would. But it’s not as hard as I thought it was going to be. You carry on, even if you don’t think you can, somehow you do.’
He leans forwards and kisses me. Bloody hell.
‘Why did you do that?’
‘Because I wanted to.’
‘Oh.’
‘I might do it again. If you don’t mind?’
‘Well let me eat my chips first, would you?’
He laughs.
‘Sure. We could have a secret signal or something, if you like.’
‘A what?’
‘A secret signal, so we both know when a kiss might be on the horizon.’
‘Like when they say, “Brace, brace, brace,” when your plane’s crashing?’
He laughs again.
‘Something like that, only maybe slightly more upbeat?’
‘Okay. Like what?’
‘I don’t know.’
We carry on eating and I can’t help smiling.
‘It’s not much of a secret signal, is it?’
‘Not really.’
‘I think I’ve thought of one.’
He puts his fork down. ‘Go on, then.’
I lean across the table and kiss him.
‘That works for me.’
It’s nearly midnight now, and I’m feeling all glamorous and wanton, and I’ve always wanted to feel wanton. It’s absolutely brilliant.
‘I really should go.’
‘But baby, it’s cold outside.’
I hit him with a pillow.
‘Look, I’m sure your Mum will cope, if they wake up or anything.’
‘Not unless they need an urgent bit of stencilling she won’t.’
‘Please. Just stay a little bit longer.’
Christ, it’s nearly one now. ‘I’ve really got to go. Where’s my bag gone?’
He grins. ‘I’ve got no idea.’
‘Thanks. That’s very helpful.’
‘You’ll have to learn to keep track of your gear when you go out gallivanting, angel.’
‘I don’t go out gallivanting.’
‘You could have fooled me. Shall I ring down for a taxi?’
‘Won’t they be asleep?’
‘Then they can wake up, can’t they? That’s kind of how twenty-four-hour room service works. It doesn’t mean just when they’re not asleep, you know.’
‘It does in the hotels I stay in.’
He picks up the phone as I go into the bathroom. My hair’s gone all tangled and I’ve got a weird mark on my neck. Excellent.
‘The taxi’s on its way.’
‘Great.’
‘So when are you flying home?’
‘At the weekend.’
‘I’m off back to New York later today.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘And then we’ve got a job in Germany, I think. Tony knows all the details, at least I hope he does, or we’re going to look pretty stupid at the airport. So I’ll call you, shall I?’
‘Sure.’
‘You don’t sound very enthusiastic. Is this you telling me you don’t want to see me again?’ He’s smiling.
‘No, of course not. I’m just trying to be realistic, that’s all.’
‘Well, don’t be.’
‘You’ll be busy flying round the world with your supermodels, and I’ll be at home with the boys, not flying anywhere. So maybe we shouldn’t try to turn this into something it isn’t.’
‘You’re a total sweetheart, did you know that?’
‘Most people are, when you get to know them.’
‘Not the ones I meet.’
The phone rings.
‘The taxi’s here. And by the way it’s on the hotel account, so don’t go paying him. Shall I come down with you?’
‘No, stay up here in the warm.’
I kiss him on the cheek and leave.
Christ. I’ve somehow turned into the kind of woman who has passionate interludes in Venice and gets water taxis in the middle of the night. How bloody brilliant. I’m so pleased with myself I could almost skip. Although perhaps not out here on the jetty, because I don’t want to launch myself into the Grand Canal.
I’m just getting into the water taxi when Daniel appears, wearing a hotel bathrobe and clutching a plastic bag.
‘You forgot your tea bags.’
The doorman and taxi man both give us rather interested looks.
‘Oh. Thanks.’
He grins. ‘Christ, it’s fucking freezing out here.’
He hands me the bag and kisses my cheek. ‘Night, angel.’
‘Night, Daniel.’
The taxi glides away from the jetty, and he waves at me and then turns and goes back inside. I sit and watch the buildings float past. Bloody hell. I wonder how long I’ll have to wait before I can call Ellen? A few hours, at least. Bloody hell.
Mum’s sitting in the kitchen in her dressing gown when I get in.
Bugger.
‘I see you’ve finally decided to grace us with your presence.’
‘Sorry, Mum. Didn’t Vin explain?’
‘Yes. He said you were having supper with Daniel Fitzgerald. The photographer.’
‘Yes.’
‘When you knew I had people coming for drinks.’
‘Yes, but they weren’t coming to see me, were they?’
‘No, but I’m sure they would have liked to meet him. He is rather famous, you know.’
‘Oh, I see, that’s what you’re so annoyed about. Missing out on a celebrity guest.’
She glares at me.
‘Look, Mum, it’s late. Can we do this tomorrow?’
‘No, we can’t. You’ve always been the same, totally selfish. By rights the shop should have come to me, you know. I could have used the money to get us a little flat over here, but oh no, she gives it to her favourite, as usual.’
‘I don’t think a wool shop in Broadgate would buy you much in Venice, Mum, and anyway isn’t it up to Gran who she gives her money to?’
‘And what about Vincent? He seems to have rather lost out, too, doesn’t he? It’s absolutely typical of you. You always have to be the centre of attention, especially where she’s concerned.’
‘Mum, Nick died, I didn’t do anything to be the centre of attention. It just happened. And Vin’s fine about it, you know he is, and I’ve told him I’ll sell up if he ever needs the money.’
‘Oh yes, he always takes your side.’
‘Please let’s not argue, Mum.’
‘You could have stayed in London and gone back to work. Running a little wool shop isn’t exactly what I had in mind for you. When I think of the years I put into you two, and look at you, one off playing on boats and the other one playing shops. Honestly, it’s so disappointing. It’s important to make a difference, Josephine, do something special with your life.’
‘I am.’
‘In a wool shop?’
‘Yes, and it’s making me really happy, for the first time in ages. The boys are happy, and it doesn’t get more important than that, not for me, so please don’t start. I’m going up to bed now.’
‘I see. So you’re not in the mood for a bit of honesty, then? What a surprise.’
Oh bollocks to this.
‘All right, let’s give it a go, let’s be really honest for once, shall we? You can tell me what a crap daughter I am, and I’ll tell you what a crap mother you are. Yes? Because once I get started there’ll be plenty to talk about. Mariella.’
She looks rather shocked.
‘Not keen? No, I thought you might not be. I’ll see you in the morning. And one crack, one sarcastic comment, and I’ll be off, because I’m not having you upset the boys. And I mean it, Mum. I really do. Goodnight.’
Blimey. I’m shaking as I walk up the stairs. Passionate interludes and standing up to Mum, all in one night. How completely brilliant is that? God knows what I’ll be getting up to tomorrow, but I think I’d better get some sleep.
It’s seven in the morning and the boys are still asleep, so I’m calling Ellen while I’ve got the chance.
‘God, you total trollop. How fabulous.’
‘I know.’
‘When will you see him again?’
‘God knows. Probably never. But I don’t care. It’s weird but it feels like a one-off. It’s like I’m still married and this is just a mad moment. I don’t know, it’ll probably end in tears, but it was worth it.’
‘Everything ends in tears, darling. It’s the beginnings that count. And the middle bits.’
‘I felt so grown-up, Ellen, I can’t tell you.’
‘I’m so pleased for you.’
‘It was lovely, just being with someone else.’
‘By being, I assume you mean shagging, right?’
‘Trust you to lower the tone. Yes, and it was great. And I wasn’t embarrassed or anything.’
She laughs. ‘Why would you be embarrassed?’
‘Oh, you know, my thighs, supermodel thighs, spot the difference, that kind of thing.’
‘And we don’t have to have the condom conversation, do we?’
‘No, we do not, thank you very much.’
‘Good. Boys like him usually travel equipped.’
‘Ellen, please!’
‘I don’t think you’re in any position to go all coy on me, darling, not with what you’ve been up to.’
‘I keep getting flashbacks. It’s very disconcerting.’
‘Don’t worry, they’ll wear off after a bit. Now, it’s vital you don’t call him, you know that, don’t you?’
‘Ellen, I don’t think this is going to turn into anything serious. I mean, think about it. What on earth do I want with a photographer who’s surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world, flying off at a moment’s notice? It’d be like Nick, only ten times worse, and I wouldn’t just be worrying about UN workers.’
‘Right. So this is about Nick, then, is it?’
‘No.’
‘It bloody is. You meet a drop-dead gorgeous man who most women would give their right arm for, and you’re too scared to go for it because your husband cheated on you.’
‘I went for it, Ellen, trust me.’
‘I know, darling, but why not see him again?’
‘I might. I’m not saying I won’t, but I’m not holding my breath, either. He’s thirty-two, Ellen, and he’s free and single, and I’m not. I’m thirty-eight with two kids and a life, and anyway he’s in love with someone else, we talked about it.’
‘Really? Who?’
‘Someone, nobody, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is I’m fine about it, I really am, and this way I won’t be waiting for him to call and wondering what he’s doing and getting all involved, because I really don’t want that. We can be friends, proper friends maybe. Not because I’m some tragic wounded person still in mourning, although funnily enough I feel like I’ve got past a point on that front, somehow. It’s like I’m moving forward, and not just making the best of what’s left. But more importantly I’ve realised how happy I am, for the first time in ages. And I don’t want to change that.’
‘Bloody hell. Good for you, darling.’
‘Of course it might all change.’
‘Of course.’
‘But for now I’m feeling pretty pleased with myself, I can tell you.’
‘I bet. What’s the plan for today then?’
‘Nothing much. I’ve seen a nice shirt in a second-hand shop near the house which I might get, and the boys want to try out more ice-cream shops. But nothing too strenuous, because I’m totally knackered.’
She laughs. ‘One-night stands I can take, but vintage shopping is too much. I think you’re having a breakdown, and you need international rescue. I’ll be on the first plane.’
‘Or I could see you next weekend, if you fancy Sunday lunch?’
‘All right, but promise me you’ll take it easy. It’s a lot to get used to, and you might have overload issues going on.’
‘I promise. If I find myself by the till in Gucci by mistake, I’ll call you, okay?’
‘Great. Or you could just buy a present for your best friend. Pretty much anything in Gucci would be fine.’
‘I’ve already got your present.’
‘Tell me.’
‘No.’
‘Tell me:’
‘It’s a gondola that lights up and plays a tune.’
‘Fabulous. “Just One Cornetto”, right?’
‘How did you guess?’
Chapter Nine
In the Bleak Midwinter
I’m kneeling in the window of the shop, humming I�
��m a Little Teapot and trying to de-glitter before I put the tea cosies in; I’ve already put the teapots in and the cups and saucers, and the hot-water-bottle covers and the scarves are on the shelves at the side, but this bloody glitter is really slowing me down. I’ve borrowed one of Gran’s tablecloths, a floral cotton one I remember from birthday teas when I was little, and I’ve left a string of white fairy lights up, because I think January’s exactly the kind of month when you need fairy lights. It’s bloody freezing today, and we had sleet for most of yesterday, mixed in with thick fog, so maybe the lights will lure people into the shop for a quick warm by the fire and a small purchase. It’s been pretty quiet since Christmas, so we need all the help we can get.
Gran and Betty are upstairs knitting fairy cakes, while Gran runs through her cruise highlights with Betty for the umpteenth time. She’s got four packets of photographs and enough anecdotes to last her all year, and they’re already talking about going on another one in the summer, and she’s trying to persuade Betty to come with them. Reg came home with a light tan and a new sailor’s cap because the other one blew off somewhere outside Funchal, and he won a trophy for playing quoits, whatever they are. He’s going to ask his friend William to join them next time so they can make up a four for bridge, not that Betty actually plays bridge, but Gran’s got a book from the library so they’re going to learn together.
The phone starts ringing, but by the time I’ve managed to clamber back out of the window Gran’s already answered it, and is telling Ellen all about her cabin.
‘They keep everything spotless you know, you really should try it and they go all over, Greenland if you like whales, or hot places, everywhere really and they’re so big you hardly know you’re moving. They do all sorts of classes you know; bridge or flower arranging or painting. A woman at our table did a lovely one of a sunset. Oh, here she is now, dear.’
She hands the phone to me and mimes ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I nod and she goes back upstairs humming ‘I’m a Little Teapot’. It must be catching.
‘Bloody hell, I think she’s just booked me in for a week cruising round Wales.’
‘She’s a born-again cruiser now, she wants everyone to have a go.’
‘In the non-swinging sense of the word, I hope?’
‘Ellen, please. This is my grandmother we’re talking about.’
‘What’s sauce for the gander, darling.’
