‘You’re always late. Actually, you’re fairly early on Mel time.’
Mel giggled and blew her a kiss, unrepentant.
Then, hair tamed, seat taken, she narrowed her eyes and looked hard at Laura’s face. ‘You look … you look fab.’
Laura didn’t do what she normally did – brush away the compliment. She beamed at Mel and accepted it. The truth was, she sort of, almost, knew she was right. She’d seen herself in a shop window on her way here. And there’d been a subtle but definite change. What had been scrawny a few weeks ago was somehow slender now. She was golden from her time in the sun, not pale and drawn as she’d been before she’d gone away. And she was a bit bouncier, more upright, happier-looking. Something like a sparkle twinkled in her eyes. She’d been surprised, then pleased. She was even more pleased that Mel had noticed it.
Mel raised an eyebrow, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Wait a minute. Something’s different.’
Laura felt her cheeks go pink.
‘You’ve … unclenched.’
‘Charming.’
‘Okay. You’ve unfurled.’ Mel made an expansive gesture in the air with both hands.
It wasn’t something. It was everything. Mel could see the lioness.
It was Ethan being okay. It was realizing that the idea of Alex being with Genevieve suddenly wasn’t gnawing at her heart. It was knowing she had found the voice she needed to go ahead with the divorce – a more equal partner to Alex in ending their marriage than she had been during most of it. That maybe selling the house where she had been so unhappy would be all right after all. A new beginning.
‘You’ve been shagging!’ Mel’s reductive but accurate diagnosis was triumphantly delivered. A man at the next table heard, and stared at them. Mel smiled broadly at him.
And it was that too.
Laura smiled shyly, avoiding the frank appraising gaze of the eavesdropper. ‘It’s obscene that you can tell,’ she whispered.
‘Aha. I knew it!’ Mel exclaimed. ‘Cheers to that.’ She picked up the martini glass and raised it. ‘Here’s to that.’
Laura clinked, and sipped.
‘Tell me all.’
For the first time in God knew how long, she had only good news to impart to her long-suffering friend. She leant in, conspiratorial. Mel rubbed her hands in glee. ‘What do you want first?’
‘Filth, obvs. All the filth.’
Laura laughed at Mel’s delighted smile, and started to talk.
64
Nick headed north, not east. To the farm. He’d got through, finally, to his parents-in-law. He asked them if he could bring the girls and Arthur for a visit. He had a couple more days, he said. Ed had called Maureen to the phone.
‘Of course, Nick. Please. We loved it when you were up here at Easter. It feels like ages ago. You don’t even have to ask. You’ve never had to ask. We’d love to see you all.’
Nick had been relieved that it wasn’t awkward.
The kids had been thrilled when he told them. They didn’t want to leave the holiday house, or the pool, or Meredith and the others. Granny and Granddad seemed a more exciting prospect than home.
At the farm, Ed and Maureen had rushed out when they heard the car, Maureen crouching so Bea and Delilah could run straight into a hug. Ed swung Arthur into his arms, the little boy giggling delightedly.
‘We wanna see the cows.’
‘And the sheep!’
‘And the chickens …’
‘All right, all right, all right.’ Ed had laughed. ‘All right?’ he’d asked Nick.
Nick nodded, smiling. ‘Fine.’
‘He’ll take them.’ Maureen hooked her arm through Nick’s. His three children headed off down the yard with their grandfather without a backwards glance, Arthur on Ed’s shoulders, Bea and Delilah either side of him, Delilah holding his free hand. For a second they watched them go. Maureen patted his arm. ‘You come in the house and have a cold drink.’
The cool kitchen was a welcome respite from the shimmering heat. The walls of the farmhouse were ancient and very thick. The old Rayburn was off for the summer. Maureen poured him a tall glass of water, making small-talk about the heat, and how little rain there’d been but, thank goodness, there was a load in next week’s forecast.
Nick accepted the drink gratefully, and sat down at the pine table.
Carrie was everywhere. Not in photographs, although there were several of those. In memories. He could see her now, sitting at this table, one knee clutched to her chest, an oversized moth-eaten cardigan she was too sentimental to part with sliding off one shoulder, pulling a rasher of bacon apart with her fingers, even though her mother had always told her off for eating like that. Over by the huge double Belfast sink, blowing bubbles over baby Bea’s head as she sat in five inches of warm water. Warming her feet by the fire after a bracing walk.
It hurt. But it was good too.
‘We’re so happy to see you, Nick.’
‘I’m sorry. I’ve stayed away too long.’
‘You’ve had so much to deal with.’ Maureen was an eager peacemaker. ‘We upset you. We didn’t mean to.’
‘Ssh. It’s okay. You were right.’
Maureen didn’t reply. Nick wanted to try to explain. ‘I think I held out for so long because acknowledging I needed help, appreciating that I needed to make real changes to the way we lived, meant I had to admit she was never coming home. That sounds ridiculous. Of course she wasn’t. But in some really ridiculous way it felt disloyal, filling her place. I wasn’t ready to move on. Does that make any sense at all or do I just sound pathetic?’
Maureen’s voice was very quiet, her gaze middle-distanced. ‘I stand in her old bedroom sometimes and pretend she’s just out.’ A small, joyless laugh. ‘And she hasn’t lived here in years.’ She looked at him. ‘So, no, you don’t sound pathetic.’
Nick put his arms around her, and she laid her head on his chest. They stood like that for a while. He felt her cry softly, then calm. Eventually, she pulled back, and smiled. ‘We miss you, Nick.’ He knew. ‘So, sit down here, and tell me all about you all.’
65
Results went live at seven a.m. It wasn’t at all like it had been in Laura’s day. She’d been camping on the Isle of Wight with mates, and had come home late on results day to a letter, opened with Charlie and Daphne hovering anxiously, ready to celebrate or console as required. Ethan could have gone to school, to line up with his classmates and rip open a brown envelope with everyone else watching, including a reporter from the local newspaper. He’d chosen the more private, electronic way.
He hadn’t slept much, and certainly not at all since five. She’d heard him pacing, wide awake herself. So they’d sat over the laptop together in the kitchen, making small-talk and watching Frasier on Channel 4, with Ethan tapping refresh every few minutes. Eventually, a different page appeared, and he could access them.
He took a deep breath and she held his free hand.
And it was good. A mix of numbers and letter grades she hadn’t quite understood until he’d painstakingly explained it to her. But really good. More than enough to proceed with the A levels he’d chosen, far better than he’d feared. Laura let out a triumphant whoop, and Ethan didn’t shush her.
They had Bucks Fizz and chocolate croissants for breakfast, and when Ethan texted his dad, Laura hadn’t minded at all.
After they’d texted back and forth about Ethan, Alex, emboldened, perhaps, by her civility, had asked Laura if she wanted to have lunch with him. She wasn’t ready for that, but she’d agreed to coffee at a place near his office.
She’d been waiting when he arrived. It was weird. You spent decades with a person, and then you weren’t with them, and it was so different. You knew them inside out and then not at all. He was wearing a jazzy tie and a matching pocket square in bright pink. He’d never have bought them himself. The Genevieve effect. She wondered whether it suited him, and decided that it did, rather.
We’ll be better off apar
t, she thought. It was quite a simple, but profound thought.
Apparently he couldn’t decide whether or not to kiss her but went with a fleeting touch of dry lips on her turned cheek. All she could think about in that moment was Joe’s open mouth against hers, his breath hot on her skin. Up close, Alex didn’t even smell like her husband any more.
They ordered coffee, and talked a little about Ethan. Their son didn’t want him to know anything that had happened on holiday, so Laura didn’t tell him.
When the barista brought the two coffees and put them on the table, Laura changed the subject. ‘So, I know we’re supposed to do all this through lawyers, but I thought we could be adult enough to do some of the figuring out on our own.’
Alex looked wary. ‘Okay …’
She ignored his reticence. ‘I’ve been thinking about the house. You’re right. I’m going to sell.’
Alex raised a hand to stop her. ‘I don’t need you to do that now.’
She ignored the gesture. ‘I’ve got three estate agents coming round in the next few days. Two nationals, one local. I’ve thought about that online one, the one with no commission, but I’m not sure. You happy with that? Once I’ve got three valuations, we’ll choose one – the middle one probably, no point in being greedy, but no need to low ball it either.’
He looked alarmed. Laura couldn’t help enjoying his expression. ‘September isn’t a bad time to go on the market. Second best time after spring, I gather. I’ll get the bread baking, coffee brewing, all that. People will want to be in by Christmas, so with a bit of luck, we’ll get offers within a few weeks, a month or two.’
‘You’ve been busy.’
‘I know you’re not going to screw me over with the settlement, Alex. I know you’re not a sleaze. You’re not, are you? A sleaze who’d try to cheat a woman he spent twenty-odd years with? The woman who supported him while he built a successful career, who raised his child?’
Alex blustered. But she hadn’t finished.
‘Men count on women like me being on our knees when they leave us. After all, when you’re broken, you don’t fight. And I was broken. I’ve been as low as I’ve ever been. For a long time. Too damn long.’
It was gratifying to see a shadow of guilt cross his face.
‘But I’ve been angry too. And I can still be angry. If – and please listen carefully to this, and believe it – if you do this the wrong way, I’ll resurrect all that anger, and I’ll use it against you.’
He tried to speak. ‘Hey –’
It was her turn to put up a hand. ‘I’ve got a good lawyer now. The law is clear. And it’s fair. But I’ll get a better one if I have to. I’ll get a man-hating, furious ball-breaker of a woman lawyer. I’ll get a forensic accountant.’
The colour had drained from Alex’s face. ‘There’s no need for that.’
‘Okay then.’ She’d finished.
‘You know me, Laura.’
‘No. I don’t. I knew you.’
Outside, away from him, she took out her phone and called Joe.
‘How’d it go?’
‘I said it all – all that stuff I wanted to get out.’
‘How’d he take it?’
‘He listened. I think.’
‘Good for you. How do you feel?’
Laura paused. ‘Good. I feel good.’
Joe laughed his rich, warm laugh. ‘I’m happy for you.’
‘I’ve got to do it now. Get on and sell the house. I might be homeless by Christmas.’ She laughed. Her heart was racing.
‘No, you won’t. You’ll come and stay here, with me.’
66
‘You okay with tuna for supper, Ethan?’ Heather stood in the doorway of the TV room, in an apron, her hair piled on her head.
‘Yeah. Sounds great. Thanks.’
‘Asian or Mediterranean?’ She made her hands like scales, weighing up the options.
‘Either is fine. They both sound good.’
‘Sure?’
‘Asian,’ Hayley answered. She looked at Ethan. ‘That’s my favourite. Lemongrass, soy, ginger … sticky rice …’ He nodded appreciatively.
‘Coming up. Scott’s on the six fifteen – miracles will never cease – so we’ll eat around seven forty-five, okay? There’s snacks if you’re hungry.’ She’d winked at him, and headed back to the kitchen.
Heather was totally normal with him. Really nice, actually, which was a relief. He knew she’d been the most upset – of all the adults – by the way he’d been back in August. They’d got it on track, he’d felt, by the end – that last day or two had seemed okay. Better than okay. But he’d had a residual worry that once everyone was back home, away from Granddad and from the unabashed sentimentality of the end of the holiday, she’d remember that she didn’t like him very much. There was no sign of that, though.
‘You are so spoilt.’
‘I could deny. Not gonna. We are pretty spoilt.’ Hayley giggled.
‘Your mum used to work, though, right?’
‘Yeah. Really hard.’ She stood up. ‘I hope you aren’t implying that being an Instagram influencer is not a proper job?’ They sniggered. ‘I’ll go get us some Cokes and chips.’
‘Crisps,’ he corrected.
She stuck out her tongue at him, and went off to forage.
Left alone with the remote control, Ethan flicked around the channels, looking for something to watch. They had thousands. He liked being here and not just because of the superior satellite cable package. It had been Hayley’s idea. They’d been talking on the phone a bit, since the summer. It was cool. When he’d said he was probably going to his dad’s at the weekend because Joe was coming to see his mum and he wanted to clear out, she’d suggested he come to her house.
He’d been wary at first, but Hayley had taken the phone into the kitchen and asked her mother, right there and then, with him on the line. So when Heather had said yes, he knew she had said it without pressure or cajoling.
Heather had picked him up from the station in the big Audi. He’d offered to wait and come with Scott, but she’d said it was fine to come straight from college. He finished at two on a Friday – his timetable was much lighter this year, now that he was only doing four subjects. She’d picked him up and they’d driven together to collect Hayley from her school.
The place was amazing – a building like a stately home, long driveway, loads of sports fields. Hayley spilt out in a sea of navy blue uniforms, Meredith, too, although she only came up to the car to collect a duffel bag of stuff – she was going to a sleepover. It was good to see her. She’d called him ‘cuz’.
Hayley asked about Saskia, whether he’d heard from her (he hadn’t), and whether he missed her (he did, but not unbearably). She didn’t probe.
During the week, they might FaceTime or text every few days. He was the only member of the family who knew she’d met a boy, the older brother of a school friend – Kurt – when he was home from boarding school at half-term, that they’d been talking and were planning to meet up in the Christmas holidays at a couple of parties. Hayley had told him about the party where she’d drunk too many VKs, been sick in the flower borders and had had to be put to bed in the family’s guest room. She knew he thought he might like a girl called Amelia, who’d joined the sixth form in September. She was the only person he talked to, now, about his fears of getting involved. Mum had been amazing about Saskia – he was grateful for that – and they were much closer now, maybe closer than they’d ever been. But it still felt weird to talk to her about girls. The thing he was most grateful about after that whole awful business had ended was that he could reclaim a normal degree of teenager’s privacy about his love life. Hayley was safe, and she was good to talk to. Family, but not quite. Close, but not too close.
67
Laura felt ridiculous. And excited. And ridiculously excited. She glanced down at her chest and saw the hives she’d known would be there. Her nerves, like her tears, disfigured her. Thank God for the scarf.<
br />
This was no way for a middle-aged woman to behave. And yet she was a middle-aged woman, and she couldn’t stop herself. She didn’t want to. She hadn’t waited for someone at a railway station for years. And here she was, at Paddington, in the middle of a Saturday morning, waiting for Joe. She felt like a kid. She’d arrived unnecessarily early, had had a coffee, been to the loo twice (once to make sure she didn’t have a latte moustache), wandered in and out of the few shops available, then tried and failed to read a magazine in WHSmith. Someone must be playing football this afternoon – she didn’t know the team, but loads of men in the same shirt were milling about. A few scruffy kids moved sullenly between groups, scrounging coins, and a promotional company was pressing small cans of coconut water on passers-by, who mostly seemed uninterested. The train was running late – he should have been there ten minutes ago, and he wasn’t due for another five. She’d have been there for forty-five. Now she was leaning against a rail and watching the comings and goings, trying not to feel emotional. That bit at least wasn’t new – airports and stations always made her weepy, if she let them. She had palpitations, for God’s sake! A busker was playing Neil Young and Ed Sheeran songs. He was good, and an elderly couple were swaying in time, their heads bobbing to the music.
She hadn’t seen him in a while. Never here. They’d been messaging. A lot. If texts and WhatsApps were modern love letters, they were vastly inferior to their predecessors, but his were better than most. She found herself rereading the chain of messages all the time, scrolling back through. There were photographs – sometimes they sent pictures of themselves or of what they were doing that day. The odd video. Sweet, short ‘good mornings’ and ‘sleep tights’, and longer ‘chats’ about Ethan. And they’d talked on the phone, for hours and hours. She’d gone out and bought those absurd white stick things you could shove in your ear so you could speak hands free, and she talked to Joe while she did all kinds of other things – stomped across the park, changed the duvet cover, drove to the supermarket, made chilli, watched TV. Fell asleep.
The Family Holiday Page 30
