No, but . . .’ He looked dismayed. He reached out to put an arm around me. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I just want to know everything about you, that’s all, and—’
I shut him up with a kiss, full on the mouth. It was time to distract him. I didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. My kids were definitely out of bounds as far as Mark was concerned and that was non-negotiable.
‘Now then,’ I said, in my best businesslike manner. ‘Would you like to see what I’ve got on under this?’
I took his hand and started pulling down the zip of my top.
I leaned forward.
‘Not a stitch,’ I whispered into his ear. ‘Not a fucking stitch.’
Fourteen
The next morning Lizzie came by unannounced. This was absolutely unheard of. Normally, Lizzie’s weeks were planned so meticulously, with Felix booked in to a vast curriculum of different activities – music, gymnastics, swimming, art club, Spanish, pre-primary football etc – every hour of every day that there simply wasn’t any available window of time for spontaneous trips out.
I had been putting the kids’ coats on ready for a spontaneous trip to the park – my own week being slightly more haphazard – but when I opened the door and saw Lizzie’s face, I took them straight off again.
‘Come in. What’s happened?’ I said in alarm.
She stood frozen on the doorstep, not even watching Felix as he crept shyly past me into the front room.
I took her by the arm and led her inside. ‘Come on, Liz,’ I said. ‘Come and sit down. Is this about Steve?’
She nodded, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
Oh, no.
‘Molly, why don’t you take Felix upstairs to play in your bedroom?’ I said in my falsest, brightest voice. ‘You could get the farm set out.’
Molly wasn’t fooled for a second. ‘No. Not go upstairs,’ she said. ‘We play here.’
‘Molly,’ I said, my voice edging over into a warning tone. ‘Go and play upstairs with the farm.’ Seeing her shake her head with such mute doggedness, I caved in pathetically, and added, ‘For a chocolate button.’
Felix turned to his mum with a thrilled expression, just as I remembered, too late, the no-sugar rule.
‘Oops,’ I said apologetically. Oh God, what was I like? Something awful had happened to my sister and I was making a complete mess of her son’s healthy, chocolate-button-free diet, just to put the sugar-free icing on the cake. So to speak.
She waved a hand, her eyes numb. ‘It’s fine. He can have one.’
I gave them a chocolate button each, feeling sick inside. Something truly terrible must have gone on. They’d split up. Steve had left her for Jessica. Jessica was up the duff with his baby. ‘Right, off you go then, you two,’ I said, shooing our children away. ‘And play nicely.’
I put Nathan on the floor at our feet where he rolled over onto his front at once and heaved his bottom in the air in an attempt to move. Oh, great. An early crawler, just what I didn’t want.
‘So,’ I said, grabbing Lizzie’s hand. ‘Tell me. Did you ask him about Jessica? Is that what’s happened?’
‘Yes,’ she said. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bruised-looking. Bloody Steve, I thought furiously. How dare he do this to her?
She took a deep breath. ‘I asked him about Jessica. He said I was right. He said he was in love with her. He . . .’ She swallowed hard, as if the words were too painful to get out. ‘He said he doesn’t think he’s in love with me any more.’ Her voice broke as she was saying it. More tears slid down her cheeks, and I put my arms around her. ‘He said I’m . . . boring. Our relationship is boring.’
The nerve of the man! ‘He said you’re boring?’ I repeated incredulously. ‘He said that about you? What an arse!’
She wiped her eyes. ‘Apparently Jessica makes him feel like he’s twenty-one again,’ she went on. I bet she bloody does, I thought. ‘Whereas he says I make him feel middle-aged.’
This was too much. ‘He is sodding well middle-aged!’ I shouted indignantly. ‘For God’s sake! He’s the most middle-aged person I’ve ever met!’
She was silent for a moment and I shut my mouth hurriedly. Better not slag the man off too much, I thought. Now was not the best time for complete character assassination.
‘So . . . what happens now?’ I asked. ‘How did you leave things? Is it . . .’ I could hardly bring myself to say the word. ‘Over?’
She fiddled with her hands and I noticed her nails were bitten down to the quick. I hadn’t seen them like that since we were schoolgirls. Pigtails, acne and bitten nails had been the order of the day. Such ugliness looked all wrong on Lizzie’s elegantly shaped hands now. ‘We’re going to get counselling,’ she said wearily. She bowed her head. ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this. It’s going to scar Felix for life, I know it is. I’ve ruined my son’s life, Sadie. How can I live with myself, knowing that?’
I rubbed her back. I was starting to feel numb myself. How quickly a perfect life unravels, I was thinking. How fast it all falls apart. ‘You have not ruined anybody’s life,’ I said firmly. ‘Get that out of your head at once. You mustn’t blame yourself for what Steve is doing. He’s the one having a midlife crisis and getting sweaty hands over Jessica.’ She was silent so I went on. ‘And Felix is only three. You can keep any horrible stuff well away from him. Children are very resilient.’
She was crying again. ‘I don’t want him to have to be resilient, though,’ she wailed. ‘That’s the thing. He shouldn’t have to be! I thought I could protect him from having to be tough at three years old. I don’t want him to worry about anything, other than which story to choose at bedtime.’
‘Oh, Liz,’ I said sympathetically. ‘Felix is going to be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.’
‘I just don’t get it,’ she cried. ‘I thought we were happy, me and Steve. I’ve given him everything. I’m a good wife. I look nice, I keep the house clean, I’m bringing up Felix, I . . .’ She broke off to blow her nose. ‘I’ve tried so hard to make things work, you know. And he goes and has an affair. I still can’t get my head round it, Sadie. What’s so bad about his life with me that he has to go and do that?’
I was glad she couldn’t see my expression. I’ve never had much of a poker face and I knew guilt was spreading right across it at her words.
I swallowed hard. ‘I don’t know, Liz,’ I said. ‘I really don’t know.’
After an hour or so, Lizzie happened to glance up at the clock on the mantelpiece, and a look of panic swept across her face. ‘Oh no, we’re going to be late for Felix’s pottery class,’ she gulped, jumping to her feet. She ran to check her reflection in the mirror, whipped out a powder compact and dabbed away all the red blotches around her eyes and nose. ‘Felix!’ she called up the stairs. ‘Time to go, darling.’
I was gawping at her. ‘Liz – why don’t you stay here this morning?’ I asked. ‘Stay for lunch. I don’t think you should be—’
She shook her head briskly and twizzled up her lipstick.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Thanks, but no. I don’t want to upset his routine any more than I have to.’
‘Are you sure you feel up to it?’ I asked, feeling uncomfortable about letting her leave the house still in a state. To be honest, I didn’t want her to even drive when she was still so wobbly and distracted. ‘Go on. I’ve got some pittas we can have for lunch. And cold chicken. And—’
She wasn’t listening, just went to the foot of the stairs. ‘Felix, come and get your shoes!’ she called.
I went after her, desperate to change her mind. ‘Or you could leave him here with me for a bit, if you want,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you crash out on our bed for a couple of hours? You look . . .’ bloody awful, I thought ‘. . . so tired,’ I finished.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Honestly.’
I knew there was no budging her. Stubborn old Taurean Lizzie. ‘Well, if you change your mind,’ I said, conceding the battle. ‘You
know where we are. Any time. And if you need a babysitter while you go to counselling, then—’
‘Thanks,’ she said. She forced a smile at her son, who was tramping down the stairs in Molly’s princess dress. ‘There you are. Don’t you look lovely, darling?’
Molly, Nathan and I waved them off. Lizzie was the most careful, sensible driver of the family, and even now, when her life had been tipped upside down, she steered the wheel of their midnight-blue people carrier with the care and precision of a brain surgeon.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ I yelled helplessly, as the car slid away at a safe twenty miles an hour. Then I looked down at my own children’s fair innocent heads and shivered. I had the feeling someone was trying to tell me something.
Let’s go to the park before lunch,’ I said.
Five minutes or so later, I was still rushing around trying to get everything ready to go when the doorbell rang. Jehovah’s Witnesses, rather than the postman with an exciting parcel, I assumed pessimistically, hauling up Nathan and taking him to the front door with me.
‘Mummy, Mummy, I come too,’ Molly yelled, hurtling after me and all but tripping me up as she flung herself at my legs.
‘Well, mind out the way of the door, then,’ I said. ‘Molly, mind your toes or the door will go right over them . . .’
There was a laugh from the other side of the door, and I froze.
No way, I thought. No way. He’d better not have . . .
I opened the front door. He had.
‘Hello,’ said Mark.
I stared at him, momentarily stunned to see him there on my doorstep in broad daylight, smiling as if this were an everyday call. My mouth opened to speak, then closed. ‘I thought I said . . .’ I began, my throat feeling dry. ‘I thought I . . .’
He was bending down. ‘You must be Molly,’ he said. ‘Hello, sweetie.’
Molly slunk behind my legs. She wasn’t a shy child but I knew she’d picked up on my displeasure at our visitor. ‘Mummy, who that man?’ she asked.
‘That man has made a mistake,’ I said tightly. ‘He’s got the wrong house. He’s going to go away now.’
‘And this must be Nathan,’ Mark went on blithely. ‘Hello there, fella. Don’t you look like your mummy?’ He stroked Nathan’s pudgy forearm, and my son beamed unknowingly back at him. Hey, kids, this is the man who might just wreck things with Mummy and Daddy, I thought, as my stomach twisted itself into knots. That’s who he is! Say hello nicely, now!
Mark straightened up and smiled at me. ‘Can I come in?’ he asked.
‘No, you can’t,’ I said irritably. Either he just didn’t get it, in which case he had to be completely insensitive, or he was trying to wind me up. Neither of which scenarios was at all good. ‘We’re just about to go out.’
‘Can I give you a lift anywhere?’ He gestured, and I could see his car parked on the street behind him.
I laughed a hard little laugh. ‘I doubt it,’ I said, ‘unless you’ve got two new car seats in there.’ I patted Molly’s head. ‘Molls, can you go and get the bag of bread for the ducks, love?’
Of course, being my obedient child, she didn’t move a muscle. ‘What that man SAYING, Mummy?’ she asked, creeping out from behind my legs to get a closer look.
Mark turned his gaze upon her. ‘He’s saying sorry to your mummy and that maybe he could come round another time?’
I stiffened. ‘Don’t talk to me through my daughter,’ I said. I was clutching Nathan so tightly, he let out a yell and tried to wrestle himself out of my arms. ‘Mark, I don’t want to discuss this now, in front of my kids. Don’t fuck me about,’ I said, mouthing the ‘fuck’ so Molly wouldn’t yell it out later at an inopportune moment.
‘I thought you liked it when I did that?’ he smirked. ‘The . . .’ He mouthed ‘fucking’ right back at me.
I glared at him. Shook my head. This was so not the time or the place to talk dirty to me. Did he really not get that?
‘I’ll ring you later, shall I?’ he said.
‘No, don’t,’ I told him. The dog over the road started barking frenziedly, and within about five barks, I had the start of a headache, a tight, pinching band across my forehead.
‘What are you saying? That it’s over?’ he asked.
‘Mummy, cuddle me. I want a cuddle, Mummy.’
I picked Molly up so that I had a child in each arm. She pressed her face into my neck. ‘I not like that man,’ she said loudly.
‘I don’t want to talk about this on my doorstep,’ I said. ‘My kids are out of bounds. I thought I’d said as much the other night.’
His eyes glittered with some emotion or other, I couldn’t tell what. He didn’t reply or move.
‘Look,’ I said in a kinder tone, ‘everything gets too complicated otherwise.’ Nathan wedged three fingers into my mouth and beamed at me. I pretended to eat his hand and he giggled.
‘Right,’ Mark said stiffly. ‘I’ll go, then. Have a nice birthday. Hope Brighton is sunny for you.’ He reached into his pocket. ‘Here – I got you this. Open it when you’re on your own.’
He held out a small wrapped box. He had to press it right into my fingers, as I was carrying the kids. ‘Thanks,’ I said. That headache was really kicking in now. I suddenly felt like lying down and falling asleep right there and then, on the hall carpet. ‘Listen, I’m sorry I had a go,’ I said. ‘I just—’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he replied. ‘See you around.’
‘See you,’ I said. The flood of relief as I shut the door on him left me momentarily speechless. Then I felt nothing but fury.
How dare he come here? How dare he, when I’d said I didn’t want him to? The cheek of him! The downright fucking nerve of him!
I sat down on the floor and put my arms around the children, leaning my back against the front door. I shoved the present in my pocket. I didn’t want to open it. It looked too suspiciously jewellery-box-shaped. I hadn’t wanted him to get me anything, hadn’t expected it. Why was he so bent on upping the stakes? Why did he have to try to turn this into a relationship, when all I wanted was fun?
Oh, everything’s so wonderfully balanced, I had said, smug as anything, to Anna just the day before. I’m loving it. It’s such a kick!
And yes, things had been so wonderfully balanced when they’d stayed in their own separate compartments of my life. But all it took was for Mark to stray over the boundary, and I was left feeling shell-shocked and rattled, and fearful that my house of cards was about to crash down to the ground at any second.
On Friday night, it was Cat and Tom’s leaving do. I phoned Lizzie at lunchtime to see whether Steve was going to come with her, or if she wanted to come with Alex and me.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked. ‘Any new developments?’
She sighed down the phone. ‘He was out all last night. Crashed into bed about midnight, stinking of booze. So no, no developments other than I’m feeling really pissed off with him.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ I told her, shuddering at the thought of scarlet-faced drunk Steve coming anywhere near a bed while I was in it. Talk about a waking nightmare. ‘What about tonight, though? You are going to come, aren’t you?’
‘Of course I am,’ she said. ‘I’ve told Steve he can babysit Felix. I don’t want him there. Not while all this is going on. And I don’t want Cat to know at the moment. I don’t want it to spoil her big send-off. And I definitely don’t want Mum in the know. You won’t say a word to her, will you?’
‘God, no, of course not,’ I said. Like I would let our mother loose with her marital advice on anyone! Sure, she’d take Lizzie’s side in it, but she’d probably track Steve down and attempt to castrate the man. Which, although Steve wasn’t in my top ten of fab friends, I wouldn’t even wish upon him. ‘Right, well, in that case, we’ll pick you up about eight, OK?’
Cat and Tom had booked the upstairs room of Tom’s local in Hammersmith for the night, and had invited everyone they knew – family, friends,
neighbours, work colleagues – to come and say goodbye. There were balloons and streamers everywhere, a twirling glitter ball above the dancefloor and a cheesy DJ who seemed to be stuck in an Eighties time-warp. He was playing ‘Kajagoogoo’ as we walked in, and Lizzie and I immediately caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing. We’d both spent hours working out a dance routine to this song in the bedroom we’d once shared. There was a lot of bum-wiggling and arm-waving as I recalled.
‘What do you say, us two on the dancefloor for old times’ sake?’ I said, nudging her.
She looked over to the empty dancefloor and grimaced. ‘I think I’d better have a drink first,’ she said. ‘Or five.’
Cat came over while we were waiting at the bar. She looked flushed and radiant in a black jersey dress, with a flattering scoop neck showing her ample cleavage, and clingy long sleeves that made her arms look slim and shapely. I felt a bit tearful just to see her. She and Tom were only going away for a month but I was so going to miss her.
‘You look gorgeous,’ I told her. ‘All ready for the off ?’
‘Just about,’ she said. ‘Let me get this round. What are you having, all of you?’
‘A pint of Stella for Alex,’ I said, watching him stroll over to say hello to my dad. He was wearing the stone-coloured crinkly shirt I’d bought him for Christmas, and all of a sudden, it was like watching a stranger. A good-looking stranger, I mused thoughtfully, eyeing up his dark-jeaned bottom.
I dragged my eyes away. ‘And . . . er . . . what are we drinking, Liz?’
Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘I think, as it’s our last night out together for a while, it had better be something special,’ she said, trying her hardest to smile.
Cat elbowed her. ‘Oi, you, when I said it was my round, I didn’t mean . . .’
We all laughed, and Lizzie pulled out a credit card. Steve’s gold Amex card. ‘My treat,’ she said. ‘Or rather, my husband’s. How about some bubbly?’
‘Lovely,’ I said.
Cat looked around as if she was only just remembering something. ‘What about Steve? What’s he having?’ she said. ‘Let me at least buy the man a pint.’
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