I lay still as a corpse for a few minutes, before rousing myself enough to go down to breakfast for the very, very early shift. As a birthday treat, I planned to wear Mr and Mrs Smith’s vibrating pants (one of the items I’d kept before handing the bag back to the airline rep), and eat a huge plate of Turkish delight with my seven cups of coffee. Happy Birthday To Me.
I saw James and Jake arrive, togged up for a day on the ocean wave. They both came over, and I gestured for them to sit.
‘Dad, can I go and choose my own breakfast?’ said Jake, as though it was the Holy Grail.
‘Well, I’ll come with you in a minute,’ said James, ‘in case I need you to help me carry my enormous plate of bacon and eggs. But why don’t you go and get Sally some Turkish delight – she looks like she’s running low.’
Jake stared at the still stacked plate before me, and nodded. He skipped off to the breakfast bar, and I watched him heaping sweets on to a saucer, counting them as he went.
‘How are you this morning?’ James asked, pouring himself some coffee from the pot. ‘Any regrets?’
‘Regrets?’ I said, ‘Well, I suppose it would have been interesting to see what happened next.’
‘I think we both know what was going to happen next,’ he said, his eyes sparkling at me over his cup, ‘and it was going to be bloody brilliant. It might have changed your life, in fact.’
‘Really? Isn’t that a bit…arrogant of you?’
‘No. I’m just a man who knows his own skills. Anyway, I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. It’s all sorted. We can talk about it then. Or are you too chicken to be alone with me now?’
Yes, actually, I was. I was excited and terrified and feeling slightly nauseous. Part of that might be down to the Turkish delight, but part of it was because I was so confused. How could I be with James one minute and fantasising about Simon coming home the next?
Now there was this – the prospect of dinner. Together. Alone. Like…a date. I hadn’t been on a date since Take That were popular the first time round. Yikes and double yikes. Was this a good feeling, or a bad one? Mainly it was an out-of-control one, and frankly I’d had enough of that in recent weeks.
Jake returned, bearing a piled-high plate. ‘There are thirty-eight pieces there, Sally,’ he said. ‘I think. I got a bit lost after eighteen. And this is for you too. For your big birthday.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fridge magnet that said I Heart Turkey on it.
‘I thought it was a bit rubbish, but Dad said it’s the thought that counts and that you’d love it anyway.’
‘He was completely right, sweetie. I really wanted one of these – it’s perfect. Now when I’m at home and it’s cold and raining, I can look at it and think of you,’ I said, giving him a hug.
‘And my dad?’ he said, into my shoulder.
‘Yes, your dad too. Thinking about both of you will always cheer me up.’
‘Come on, Jake, you’ll make her cry. Time to stoke up the engines,’ James said, standing up and taking him by the hand, ‘and you, birthday girl – I’ll see you later. No excuses.’
He walked away, quickly. Just to make sure I couldn’t say no, I suppose.
I finished up my coffee and as much Turkish delight as I could eat without vomiting, then went back to the room to get ready for a hard day’s sunbathing.
Nothing was stirring in the pit next door, and I’d given up trying to wake them years ago. If they went hungry, they could forage for wild shoots and leaves. Or buy a bag of crisps.
As I clicked the door shut to head down to the pool, I heard both their phones beeping to let them know they had text messages waiting. It was probably Simon, telling them he loved them, and his parents, and God, and the ice-cream man and that woman who served him a nice cup of tea on the train to Paddington one time.
Down at the pool, Allie was already lounging, lathered up in sun cream.
‘Done my back in a bit,’ she said, ‘too much get-up-and-go. So today I’m having a lie-down-and-stay. How are you?’
‘I’m forty today, actually, and so far it’s been okay – I’ve eaten two massive plates of Turkish delight, and plan to do bugger-all for the whole day.’
‘Sal! You should have told us!’ she said.
‘Well, I didn’t want a fuss, I don’t really feel like it.’
‘But that’s just selfish – it’s a great excuse for a party for the rest of us…anyway, did you get some fab presents?’
Max probably ordered her custom-made Belgian chocolates iced with her name every year. I, on the other hand, had received a combination of a fridge magnet and big fat zero.
‘Oh, here they come now – bet they’ve got something for you,’ she said, nodding her head towards Lucy and Ollie, who were shambling towards us like extras from The Walking Dead. Both still wearing their nightwear and modelling varying degrees of bedhead. Ollie collided with a chair, so I guessed he’d lost his glasses again.
‘Mum,’ he said, ‘happy birthday!’
He handed me two gifts, both wrapped in the lining paper from the drawers in our room and smelling like a thousand pairs of musty socks. Not a great start.
‘Erm…thanks,’ I said, opening them cautiously. Allie was peering over my shoulder, innocent in the ways of my children. I was half expecting to find the spare bog roll or the remote control for the telly.
Gift number one, which had Ollie’s name scribbled on the paper, contained about six pieces of Turkish delight – still dusty with sugar, and very clearly filched from the breakfast table. I put it to one side for later – waste not, want not.
Gift number two, from Lucy, was always the one to fear. As I pulled the paper off, trying to shield it from Allie, Mr and Mrs Smith’s Clit Stick fell into my hand. I’d suspected she’d kept hold of a souvenir – and, lucky me, it was now mine.
She smirked at me and said: ‘Happy birthday – thought you might need this now you’re a wrinklie…’
‘What’s that? A new lipstick?’ said Allie, trying to look.
‘Yes, that’s exactly what it is,’ I replied, shoving it into my bag and turning back to the kids.
‘While I don’t want to appear ungrateful,’ I said to them both, ‘you forgot, didn’t you?’
Lucy shrugged and assumed her combat stance. ‘So fucking what? It’s not like you haven’t had hundreds of birthdays before, is it? And you’re the parent here – it’s your job to remember our birthdays, because you’re the one who dragged us into this world, not the other way round. Next time, tell my secretary in advance if you’re going to get childish about it.’
Ollie told her to shut up, sighed, and sat down beside me.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. We did forget. And that was really mean of us. Granddad and Auntie Diane both texted to remind us ’cause they know what a pair of knobs we are. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you when we get home. And, as a birthday treat, we both plan to have every single meal with you today, instead of our friends – so you have some company.’
Goodness me – such sacrifice. I could tell Ollie expected me to fall down on my knees with gratitude, it was announced with such sincerity. And I could tell from Lucy’s face she thought the whole idea was as appealing as eating her own toe-cheese.
‘Well, that’s very sweet of you both,’ I said, lying, ‘but I’ve already had breakfast. I can see you for lunch if you like. Maybe we can have a cake. And as for dinner, you’ll have to sort yourselves out – because I’m going out with James.’
I’d been having doubts about even going – my inner wuss was fighting my inner slut – but it was worth saying just to see the shocked expressions on all their faces. Allie, because it was a juicy bit of gossip, and my kids because they never, ever expect me to have a life of my own. They were staring at me like I’d turned green and started speaking Martian.
I was starting to like this ‘being forty’ thing.
Chapter 20
‘So,’ said Allie, fixing me with a piercing-gr
een stare as the kids retreated to their rooms to sleep for another four hours, ‘is this a date? And how do you feel about it if it is?’
That, I thought, not meeting her eyes, was a very good question.
‘The simple answer is, I don’t know. I wasn’t even sure I was going until just then. I’m…God, I’m confused, Allie. It’s still all so fresh – Simon leaving me. It feels wrong to be even considering another man.’
‘I understand that,’ she replied, quietly. ‘But it’s just dinner. Simon has been gorging himself on the extramarital buffet for some time now. It might do you good. I went on a few dates, while Mike and I were separated.’
‘And how did they go?’ I asked, genuinely interested. I’d not known Allie long, but I already valued her friendship, and trusted her instincts.
‘Well, they made me feel better about myself. Boosted my confidence. Made me feel a bit like singing “I’m Every Woman”, that kind of thing. But, ultimately, I always ended the night wishing I was with Mike. None of them really lived up to him, and what we had together. That might be the case with you – in which case you know you’re not ready for anything more. But…it might not. I know it’s too soon for anything serious – but this doesn’t have to be serious. James is a lovely guy. Just go out. Do your hair. Wear a nice dress. Have some fun.’
Everything she said made sense, and I decided to follow her advice. By the end of the day, I had convinced myself that it was all going to be super-casual, harmless, fun. That it meant nothing – even if thinking about the night before, the way James had made me feel, still sent tingles through my whole body.
Had Simon ever made me feel like that? I wasn’t sure. If he had, I couldn’t remember it. I was starting to realise that I was missing the security he represented as much as him. Simon made up more than half of our partnership when it came to the outside world – he was the one who did the talking, the joking, the impressing. I was his domestic sidekick. It was only coming here – being on my own, being forced to meet new people, and finding that I actually enjoyed it – that had highlighted the fact that I’d allowed myself to play second fiddle in my own life.
Despite having all day to prepare, I ended up running late – because my sister-in-law Diane called from Liverpool to wish me a happy birthday.
I was juggling the phone, my make-up, and a choice of three different outfits while she talked. Eventually, she cottoned on.
‘You’ve met someone, haven’t you?’ she said, gleefully.
‘No, don’t be daft, I’m just getting ready for a night at the bar.’
‘Bollocks!’ she replied, laughing. I heard her shout out to my brother: ‘Guess what, Sal’s pulled!’, and him laughing too. At least I was a source of entertainment for my nearest and dearest.
‘No use lying. I can tell. Now, what are you wearing?’
I gave in and described my choices to her. She listened carefully, asking a few questions along the way, and said: ‘The black linen trousers ’cause they’re classy, and the white top with the low neck and your boostiest bra. Because that’s slutty. Now, have a good night, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…’
Seeing as Diane had shagged half the men in Liverpool, and a few of the women, that left me quite a lot of leeway.
James was waiting for me downstairs. The Levis were back, with a pale blue cotton shirt. He had that sexy spicy smell going on again. It made my nostrils, and a few other body parts, quiver. He did a double take when he saw me – or, more accurately, my cleavage.
‘You look…dangerous,’ he said. Which was probably good – I still wasn’t sure.
He turned to Jake, who was hopping on one leg by his side, eager to run away to Ian and Jenny, who were looking after him tonight. He gave his son a kiss on his curly hair, and finally let go of his hand. Jake sprinted over to the bar, and leaped straight on to Jenny’s lap.
She wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed him so hard he squealed. Amid my own nerves and panic, I registered a moment of complete sympathy for the younger woman – she was clearly a natural with kids, and from what Mike had said, they were facing a future without their own. As though she knew I was thinking about her, Jenny looked up, gave me a huge smile, and made a gesture at her own breasts before giving me the thumbs-up. Great. I’d clearly made a splash in the boob department, at least.
We waved goodbye, and walked along the promenade to a cluster of bars and restaurants, choosing one right on the beach. James pulled my chair out for me to sit on, and I hovered until he went away.
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I grew up with four older brothers. Pulling chairs away as I went to sit down was like a family tradition. I still get nervous now.’
That wasn’t the only thing I was nervous about, now we were here, alone. I was nervous I’d choke on a piece of melon or have some stupid allergic reaction to shellfish that would make my eyes swell up like Space Hoppers. And I was nervous because I didn’t know how this was going to play out. And, more confusingly, I was nervous because I had no idea how I wanted it to play out.
James was being flirtatious and charming and trying hard not to talk to my chest. I was flirting right back; and I soon realised we were heading straight back down last night’s path, and the wine I was guzzling was acting like our sat nav. It was all so natural, so easy…so, predictably enough, I decided to mess it all up.
‘James,’ I said, putting my knife and fork down, ‘I’m a mess.’
‘You look fine to me,’ he said, with the typical density of a man.
‘Oh,’ he added, seeing the look on my face, ‘you mean you feel a mess.’
He nodded, and rubbed his hand through his hair, leaving tiny blond peaks tufted up from his scalp. ‘Yeah, I get it. Truth be known, I’m a bit of a mess too, have been for a while. Cards on the table then – what do you want from me?’
I leaned forward, kissed him very lightly on the lips, then pulled back. Obviously not what he was expecting, and my ego did a little jig when I saw his pupils dilate.
‘Sometimes, I want that from you,’ I said, ‘and a lot more than that. Because I can’t deny you’ve flicked some kind of switch in me, and I think about you and your body and the things I’d like to do to it all the time. You’re always there in the back of my mind, looking all gorgeous and hunky and making me feel…wiggly.’
A slow grin started to spread across his face. I guess it was his ego’s turn to do a jig.
‘There’s a “but” coming, isn’t there?’ he asked.
‘Yep. I like you as well. I think we could be friends. And that’s probably what I need right now – friendship. I’ve seen what you lot have here, at the Blue Bay. The way you’re woven into each other’s lives; the way you’re so supportive of each other. I don’t really have many friends, and I’m pretty sure I need them.
‘I’m looking after Ollie and Lucy on my own and probably doing a terrible job of that, and even though Simon’s done this awful thing, I can’t put aside seventeen years of marriage as easily as he can.
‘I’m really not ready for anything new – and, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’ll ever be cut out for sitting on that subs’ bench of yours.’
‘What makes you think that’s where I want you to sit? Have I ever said that?’ he answered, sounding annoyed. ‘I like you too. A lot. I get a hard-on just looking at you, and you make me laugh. Being a bloke, that’s pretty much the whole list of what I look for in a woman, unless you could throw in an autographed Ireland rugby shirt while you’re at it.
‘We’ve only known each other for a matter of minutes but I already feel like there’s something happening here. And that worries me because of Jake. I’ve worked hard to keep life stable for him and, much as he loves Sally the Pirate Nurse, maybe if I use my head, I know this is wrong for us as well.’
He looked worried and angry and vulnerable all at once. Which perversely made him even sexier. I was beginning to think that even if he put on five stone and had ‘my dick is two inches long’ tattoo
ed on his forehead, I’d still find something about him to fancy.
‘Okay,’ he said, blowing out a long breath, ‘let’s do this friends thing if you want. I can do that.’
I was pleased to hear it. And devastated to hear it. It felt like two different people were inhabiting my mind. If only I had two different bodies as well, the whole dilemma would be solved.
‘Now hurry up, friend, because we’ve got to go somewhere else yet.’
Chapter 21
The ‘somewhere else’ turned out to be a tiny English bar tucked away in a side street, announcing in flickering neon that it served Stella Artois and Guinness. Classy. I looked at James – it didn’t seem to be his kind of place. But maybe now we were just friends he was going to get hammered and talk about football all night.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said as he ushered me through the door, ‘they made me do it.’
‘Surprise!’ squealed Rick, racing towards me and kissing me on both cheeks. He was resplendent in skinny jeans and a tweed waistcoat – with nothing underneath but his tan.
The others stood at the bar, toasting me with pint glasses and singing ‘Happy Birthday’. It was a dingy place, with low lighting and a lot of wood panelling. The randomly scattered tables had dimpled copper surfaces and beer mats shoved under their legs to keep them stable. Someone – presumably the hairy, beer-bellied sixty-something behind the counter – had gone to a lot of time and effort to recreate a spit-and-sawdust dive from back home.
The gang was all there – Allie and Mike, Marcia, Jenny and Ian with Jake, Max; even Lucy and Ollie. There was also a cake, which looked suspiciously like it might have been borrowed from the Blue Bay restaurant.
The Birthday That Changed Everything Page 11
