Any Way You Want Me

by Diamond, Lucy

  Lizzie deliberately kept her head towards the bar as she tried to attract the barmaid’s attention. ‘Oh, sorry, Cat. I meant to say, the babysitter let us down at the last minute, so he’s looking after Felix.’ She gave the barmaid a dazzling smile and ordered the champers. ‘He sends his love, though,’ she added to Cat. ‘And says . . . er . . . don’t forget the postcard.’

  ‘Postcard?’ Cat snorted. ‘Emails, that’s what you’ll be getting. If you’re lucky.’

  She was doing well, Lizzie, I thought as I watched her for a few moments. She looked great, too, in a rose-patterned dress and matching shoes that would have done for Ascot, let alone a grotty west London pub. I couldn’t help but wonder if the Amex card had taken an extra beating in the last few days as some form of therapy. Or revenge.

  ‘Cheers,’ she said lightly, passing me a champagne glass full of bubbles. ‘And cheers to you, Cat. Happy travels.’

  ‘Happy travels,’ I echoed, chinking glasses carefully.

  Cat’s beam was right across her face. ‘Here’s to us three. Happy days for all of us.’

  ‘Happy days,’ Lizzie and I repeated. Her voice was a whisper and I reached down and squeezed her hand. Here’s hoping, I thought.

  Saturday was my birthday. At nine o’clock I was woken up by a beaming face at the side of my bed, tunelessly intoning,

  ‘Happy BURRday to you,

  Happy BURRday to you,

  Happy BURRday to you,

  Happy BURRday to you . . .’

  ‘Happy birthday, gorgeous Sadie, also known as Mummy, happy birthday to you,’ Alex finished quickly, obviously fearful that Molly’s own song was going to prove to be a never-ending loop.

  I blinked and smiled. ‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ I croaked. ‘And you, too, Molly. Ha ha.’

  Alex plonked a breakfast tray on the bed, and Molly scrambled up to assist me with it. ‘That your toast, Mummy,’ she said helpfully, pushing a finger through the middle of it and wearing the top slice like a ring. ‘There your cup-a-tea. That your egg. I have your bacon?’

  ‘Go on, then, cheeky.’ I laughed, unable to resist the hopeful smile.

  Alex was looking incredibly bleary. He’d managed to spend most of the night before embroiled in a heated debate about football with my dad and Nick, which involved lots of drinking and shouting, I recalled.

  ‘Cat and Tom will be heading off to the airport in an hour,’ I said, watching him rub his eyes and sit down heavily on the bed.

  ‘A month in India,’ he said wistfully.

  ‘A month in India,’ I echoed. Our eyes met. I knew he was thinking about our own time there. He winked at me and I smiled in return.

  ‘Tom-Cat productions go global,’ Alex joked. ‘Talking of going . . . I was thinking we could head off at eleven or so. Get to Brighton in time for lunch. What do you think?’

  ‘I think that sounds fabulous,’ I said, kissing him. ‘Now, where are my presents?’

  Perhaps I should have guessed, after hearing about Lizzie’s relationship problems and then the fact that Becca and Nick’s relationship seemed to have turned a touch frosty (‘How was Rome?’ ‘Don’t ask’), that there was something in the air that seemed to be wrecking previously harmonious arrangements.

  It was either that or sheer old-fashioned bad luck that saw us walking into the Crab and Crayfish restaurant on Brighton seafront, that Saturday lunchtime. We’d taken Molly to the pier and had a few goes at the slot machines, then had wandered down past the arches and the fairground in search of somewhere to eat.

  ‘This is new,’ I said, stopping outside one place and peering at their specials board. Fresh lobster, fresh red snapper, fresh octopus, the loopy chalk writing read. ‘Or rather, it’s changed hands since I lived down here. What do you think?’

  ‘I want chips,’ Molly said immediately. ‘And Ribena. And crisps.’

  ‘How about octopus?’ I joked. ‘Would you like to eat an octopus?’

  ‘It’s your birthday,’ Alex said to me. He picked up Molly so she could have a look through the open door. ‘You choose.’

  ‘Where the octopus?’ Molly asked, searching the restaurant for it.

  ‘I’ll choose here, then,’ I said, smiling up at him. ‘It looks great.’

  Suddenly Molly’s arm was pointing straight out like a ramrod. ‘There that man,’ she said excitedly, pointing into the restaurant. ‘Mummy not like him. Mummy say, “Don’t talk a me, man.”’

  ‘What’s that, darling?’ Alex said. I could tell he wasn’t really listening, but I was. I had heard. I knew exactly what she was saying and my mouth had fallen open in dismay.

  ‘Mummy shut door. Say, “Go away, man.” He say, “Hello sweetie,” like that, Daddy.’

  ‘Mmmm.’ Luckily for me, Alex was scanning the room for a free table and not really paying attention. I was also scanning the room, but for different reasons. Praying Molly had got muddled up and . . .

  ‘Alex? Alex!’

  A slim arm waved above the table like an elegant reed in the wind. Light glinted from the silver bangle watch around the wrist.

  Oh, shit.

  Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Molly hadn’t got muddled up. Eagle-eyed Molly had just seen . . .

  ‘Julia!’ Alex’s voice was a gasp of surprise. ‘What are you doing here? Look, Sadie. Look who’s here! Hello again, Mark.’

  We stepped into the restaurant and it felt like a very bad dream. Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence that Mark and Julia happened to be in Brighton, too. What the hell were they doing here? For a split second I thought that Alex must have somehow set us up. He’d got wind of it. He’d . . .

  But no. I knew what the truth was, really. I knew exactly what they were doing here. Mark’s idea, no doubt. Darling, why don’t we pop down to the coast for the day? he’d have said this morning, as if the thought had just materialized in his head.

  What was he playing at now?

  ‘Look, Mummy, it’s that man. You say, don’t talk a me, man.’

  ‘Let’s get you a high chair,’ I said on automatic pilot. Shock waves thudded through me, one after another, after another.

  Oh. My. God.

  SHIT.

  ‘Come and join us,’ Julia said at once. ‘How funny! Typical, isn’t it – you get out of London and London comes with you. How are you both?’

  ‘Fine,’ I said quietly. I didn’t look at Mark. Couldn’t bring myself to. I felt so fucking . . . angry with him. No, not just angry. Angry didn’t come anywhere near describing it. I was incandescent. He was playing with me. Trying to throw me by putting me in this awful, ridiculous, downright farcical situation.

  Alex was wheeling the buggy over to their table. No, I thought, panicking, no, no, no. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit across the table from Mark and chit-chat, and pretend that we were polite strangers, with Molly piping up every five minutes about ‘that man’.

  Actually, forget ‘couldn’t’. I just wouldn’t. It was my birthday after all. Sod it.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, but this is a bit of a family occasion,’ I said sweetly. ‘There’s a table over there by the window, look, Alex. Sorry, Julia. I’m not being rude. It’s my birthday and—’

  ‘Oh.’ From her expression, she obviously thought I was being rude. Not good enough to sit with your husband’s – sorry, your partner’s – boss now, are you? ‘Oh, right. Well. Happy birthday,’ she said insincerely.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ echoed Mark.

  I still refused to look at him. Wanker. Idiot. It was all a big game to him, wasn’t it? A big, funny, fucking game. He had nothing to lose except his crappy, stuck-up wife – big deal – whereas I had everything to lose. Everything.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said dully, turning away. I remembered the present he’d given me, which was still unopened back at our house. Stupid bloody idiot. I would throw it away. I wasn’t interested.

  ‘Hey, we were just saying the other day, weren’t we, Sadie, that we’ll have to sort a date out for you
two to come over to us,’ Alex said gamely, trying to repair the damage.

  I pretended I hadn’t heard and started fussing around at our table, getting a high chair for Molly and suchlike. The smell of frying fish was starting to make me feel nauseous. I wished and wished we had walked past the Crab and Crayfish. Wished we were somewhere else so that I could have stayed in my jolly birthday day tripper mood. Instead, I just felt like launching myself off the pier in despair.

  I had my back to Julia and Mark’s table and so I didn’t have to look at them throughout our meal. I made sure Molly couldn’t see them either. The less she said about ‘that man’, the better. It was only when I saw Alex raise a hand in goodbye that I turned and waved and smiled as enthusiastically as I could at Julia – she was Alex’s boss after all. It was only then, when I knew they’d gone, that I could start to relax.

  ‘What do you want to do for the rest of the day, then, birthday girl?’ Alex asked. ‘Sunbathing and swimming, yeah?’

  It was dull and cloudy outside, so patently not sunbathing weather that I laughed. It was good to laugh again. ‘How about a stroll around the shops and coffee bars before you show me which little love-nest hotel we’re booked in to?’ I said, patting his hand affectionately.

  He pulled himself up proudly. For a moment, I thought he was going to burp, but it turned out he just had an announcement to make. ‘Actually, I’ve got a surprise about our hotel,’ he said.

  I couldn’t help smiling at him. He was so bloody delighted with himself, whatever he’d arranged. ‘And what’s that, then?’

  ‘Call me thoughtful,’ he started grandly, ‘call me considerate—’

  ‘I’ll call you a cab home in a minute, if you don’t tell me,’ I interrupted.

  ‘I call you DADDY,’ Molly told him, and we both laughed.

  ‘Whatever you want to call me, ladies,’ he went on, ‘I’d just like it to be known that—’

  I groaned. ‘What?! Get to the point!’

  ‘That I’ve booked us two rooms at the hotel,’ he said. He paused, enjoying my frown. ‘One room just for us, Alex and Sadie. One room for the kids . . . and your mum. Our babysitter.’

  I gaped at him. One room just for . . .

  ‘Say that again,’ I ordered. ‘My mum’s down here?’

  He nodded. ‘Yep. We’re meeting her at the station in . . .’ He looked at his watch. ‘In half an hour. It was partly her idea,’ he admitted. ‘So we can have a night out together tonight – and a lie-in together tomorrow morning.’ He grinned. ‘So what do you say to that, Ms Morrison?’

  ‘Oh, Alex!’ It was the best birthday present he could have given me. ‘You are such a superstar. Thank you. Thank you!’

  It’s Alex, I thought joyfully, throwing my arms around his neck. I’m going to choose Alex. Of course I’m going to choose Alex. How could I have ever doubted that choice?

  It was as if the clouds had cleared right away and the sun was shining straight into my face, dazzling me with its light.

  Fifteen

  The rest of the weekend passed relatively smoothly and happily. Still, I suppose after trying to eat lunch while both my long-term partner and my lover were under the same roof, with my daughter valiantly trying to grass me up at any opportunity, anything would have seemed smooth and happy. Re-sitting my finals without a moment’s revision would have seemed a doddle in comparison.

  We met my mum at the station, before checking into our hotel – four-poster bed with sea views for Alex and me. I was unable to switch off my looking-for-Mark radar as we walked there, which meant me twitching my head from side to side repeatedly in a nervous kind of way, but so far, there had been no further sightings. From being the person I had physically ached to see again, he had metamorphosed into a character of almost pantomime-villain-type sinisterness.

  Mark, you’ve blown it, I kept thinking. You tried to be too clever and get too close, and now you’ve blown it. First there had been the story about Covent Garden. Then that whole thing with Caroline in the pub. Now this. It was too much.

  Having said which, although the rational part of me was starting to think that enough was enough, the emotional side of me felt like I was being stabbed in the guts every time I even considered ending things with Mark. If I so much as imagined myself saying the words to his face, I wanted to collapse with pain and weep.

  What was it Anna had said? You can’t carry on with both of them for ever. Sooner or later, something’s got to give. One of them will have to go. So it seemed. I couldn’t carry on with the lies. They were starting to wear me down.

  After leaving our bags at the hotel, Alex took the kids off down to the beach while Mum and I hit the shops. Alex had bravely volunteered to come shopping with me, but I knew that would involve him sitting outside the actual shops, reading the paper and complaining that I was taking ages. Or, if by some miracle I actually managed to drag him into a shop, he would say that he liked absolutely every garment I picked up with a single cursory glance over it in the vain hope that I would hurry up and buy something, oh, and could we pop into a bookie’s now to check the half-time football scores?

  Sadly, these were not qualities that I looked for in a shopping companion. In fact, shopping alone was way, way preferable to shopping with bored, complaining Alex.

  My mum, on the other hand, had more stamina than a Sherpa when it came to battling through a mall. She had excellent taste and could spot a bargain from twenty paces, plus she’d just received a new credit card that she was dying to whack some purchases on to.

  Two hours and mucho purchasing later, we both needed a skinny latte and a sit-down. Mum had just bought a new handbag from a rather swanky boutique we’d stumbled upon, and was already fretting about the price.

  ‘So if your dad asks, it was twenty pounds in the sale, all right?’ she instructed me. She leaned back in her chair and stretched her legs out. ‘Oh, I just know what he’s going to say when he sees it. He won’t notice its lovely shape, or how glossy it is, or how well cut the leather is. He’ll say, “Mary, you’ve already got a bag. Why in God’s name do you need another one?”’

  I shook my head and sipped my coffee. ‘They don’t get it, do they?’ I said, patting my carrier bags happily. ‘They just have no idea.’

  ‘“Mary, you’ve already got a pair of shoes,”’ she went on, warming to her theme, and imitating Dad’s Belfast accent to a T. ‘“Why in God’s name do you need another pair?”’

  I slipped into broad Leeds to mimic Alex. ‘Sadie, you’ve already got a T-shirt. Why the fook do you need another?’

  We were both giggling by now. ‘Next time he says it – tomorrow, I bet you – I’m going to remind him, Ted, you’ve already seen one football match. “Why in God’s name do you need to watch another one?”’ she joked.

  I sniggered. ‘Yeah, and I’ll say, Alex, you’ve already got one newspaper. Why the fook do you need to read another one?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Mum said. Then, as a cheerful, green-eyed waitress laughed about something at the next table, her expression turned wistful. ‘I wonder what Catherine’s doing now,’ she said. ‘Will they have landed yet, do you think?’

  I checked my watch. ‘Probably not,’ I said. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone, Mum. I know it’s not for very long, but . . .’

  ‘I know. I feel the same,’ Mum said before I could get the sentence out. ‘My little baby girl, half the way around the world.’

  I fiddled with my cup and saucer. Should I say something about Lizzie? Or should I keep schtum? The waitress was laughing about something else now, and the memory of Lizzie’s pale-faced misery opened my mouth for me. ‘Actually, Mum, I think Lizzie could do with getting away from it all too, you know,’ I confided. ‘Have you spoken to her lately?’

  ‘A quick chat last night at Catherine’s party, but not properly. Why? What’s wrong?’

  There was a difficult line to tread when it came to Mum and passing on sisterly gossip. I wouldn’t tell her everything – sh
e’d be too worried, for starters, not to mention the fact that she would also be inclined to go straight over to Balham and wallop Boring Steve in the nads with her handbag, before she’d even got to the truth of the matter. Yet, at the same time, as a parent myself, I couldn’t bear the idea of one of my children being miserable and my not knowing about it. I felt duty-bound to at least point her in the right direction.

  ‘She seems a bit down at the moment, that’s all,’ I said in the end. ‘You know what she’s like, though – she never says much.’

  ‘No.’ Mum pursed her lips thoughtfully. ‘Tell you what, I’ll pop round in the week and take Felix off her hands for a while, so she can go and do something nice. Or perhaps she can tell me what’s bothering her.’

  I grinned at her. ‘That’s a good idea. She’d love that. In fact, I’ll drop my two off as well – you can set up a crèche, Mum.’

  ‘I’d have them like a shot, Sadie – seriously! Any time, you know that. I love being with them. They’re so good, your two, aren’t they?’

  As she squeezed my hand across the table, the thought that leaped unbidden into my head was: Mark. I could leave the kids with Mum and sneak out to . . .

  Then, the stab in the guts again. No, I couldn’t. Absolutely not! Hadn’t I just been thinking that I would choose Alex? How could I have forgotten what had just happened?

  I had to break the habit of Mark. Had to get him out of my head. I was horrified that I had even gone along that thought path in the first place.

  The ringing tone of my mobile jerked me out of my turmoil.

  ‘Where are you now? We’ve thrown just about all the pebbles on the beach into the sea now, and Molly’s had three goes on the little train. How’s the shopping?’

  ‘We’re having a break in Daniella’s,’ I said. ‘Come and meet us; you can admire all the things we’ve bought.’ I winked at my mum, and started giving Alex directions.

  After Alex had rung off, I noticed I had a new text message. From Mark.

  I opened it up, my mouth suddenly dry.

  Sorry, Sadie, I read. So very sorry. I love you. Mark xxx