Harvey Nesbitt was the most handsome, charismatic and devoted boyfriend I’d ever had. Not only that, his enthusiasm, energy and go-get-’em attitude had captured my imagination and ultimately my heart after we met through a dating app last year. He was a trier, was Harvey, and I’d been bowled over by his optimistic outlook on life. He thought nothing of changing careers, taking up new challenges, moving city … He seemed to take it all in his stride.
Not like me. I’d had grand plans once upon a time. I even left home for a year to take up a place at university to study Media. Then Mum had been diagnosed with terminal cancer and my degree went out of the window. I came home to help Dad look after her and six months later she passed away. Evie tried to persuade me go back to uni. I was only twenty, it wasn’t too late and it would open doors, she’d said, give me independence, a future. Three years older than me, she’d already finished her degree and had got a good job as an accountant in Manchester. But for me the moment had passed. I’d changed. Everything had changed. Spending three years with a load of carefree twenty-somethings whose biggest dilemma was which pub sold the cheapest drinks no longer held any appeal. I’d lost my mum and somewhere during the last few months of her life I’d lost my way too. Mum had been the sunshine in our lives and she and Dad had been blessed with one of those fairy-tale marriages which no one in their company could fail to be touched by. He called her ‘blossom’ and brought her a tea tray complete with her favourite china cup and a fresh flower in bed before he left for work each morning. She tucked paper hearts and love notes in his lunchbox and told him every day that he was her soulmate. If I could have even a fraction of their happiness when I eventually married, I’d vowed long ago, I’d be a happy, happy woman.
Immediately following Mum’s funeral, Dad took early retirement from the fire service and I spent the next year trying to coax him out of the house. In the end, a friend begged him to help him get rid of a tree which had come down blocking his drive. To my relief, Dad found he quite enjoyed being active again. A month later Allbright’s Tree Services was born. Dad took a course and obtained his chainsaw licence and, because I had nothing better to do, I became his assistant. All those years of climbing trees and making dens finally paid off. I became a dab hand with the shiny new shredder too, making bark chippings from the chopped-down branches, which we sold for ten pounds a sack.
Evie moved back to Fernfield, married a lovely man called Darren, successfully set up her own home-based accountancy business and sadly unsuccessfully tried to start a family. One devastating miscarriage and countless tests on both of them had taken their toll on the relationship and last time Evie phoned she admitted that she was beginning to think that they’d fallen out of love with each other. I reassured her that this would be a temporary blip but it tore me apart to see them both suffering; they made such a lovely couple.
It was twelve years since Mum died and Dad had stayed single all this time. He eschewed all advances from members of the opposite sex, though as his tan deepened and his body grew leaner from all his physical work, there were plenty of offers. Now in his early sixties, he decided last month to retire properly, sell the business to his partner, rent his house out and travel around Europe for a year on his own.
I cried when I heard the news. Not because I didn’t want him to go, but because this adventure had always been their plan for retirement: Mum and Dad’s, together. I was both proud of him for going ahead by himself and heartbroken that he had to.
As for me, boyfriends had drifted in and out of my life, mostly out; they were all, without exception, pleasant enough. I even lived with the last one before Harvey for a couple of months. But none of them made my skin tingle or my heart leap when their name flashed up on my phone screen. None of them made my stomach fizz when they turned up at my door to collect me for an evening out. None of them ever called me ‘blossom’. Until I met Harvey.
From the moment our flirting graduated from online chat to meeting in real life, Harvey charmed me. He charmed us all, actually. Dad thought he was just the type of young man to make me push my boundaries, Evie thought he was sexy as hell, and even Darren thought he was a top man and took him for the odd pint at the pub. When Harvey called me ‘blossom’ on our fifth date and brought me flowers, it felt like the sign I’d been looking for; maybe I’d finally met ‘the one’.
A year down the line I still loved him, but the fairy-tale romance I’d signed up for had evaporated somewhere along the M1 between Fernfield and Tottenham. And I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
That evening, when I let myself into our open-plan flat, Paula’s words came back to me: ‘You’ve made me realize that in certain instances, a kind word to a grieving mother or a consoling pat on the arm to a widower is valued far more than our usual policy of discretion and invisibility. Please give serious consideration to this promotion. I’d really like to have you on board permanently.’
Permanently.
I wandered across to the kitchen area, remembering the panicky feeling that Paula’s job offer had given me. Her eyes had been twinkling with confidence after she’d imparted her news; so sure was she that I’d snap her hand off. I felt terrible watching her smile slip when I told her I’d think about it.
I wasn’t even one hundred per cent sure that I’d thanked her. I must have; I’d have done it on autopilot before standing up, shaking her hand and fleeing her office.
Until Paula uttered the ‘permanent’ word, I hadn’t realized how much I cherished the freedom that my temporary job afforded me.
Did I really want to commit to the crematorium, or even to London, I thought as I washed up the dirty crockery Harvey had left on the kitchen breakfast bar. I poured hot water and washing-up liquid into the pan he’d used to make his mountain of scrambled eggs to let it soak for a few minutes while I made myself a cup of tea. He was on a high-protein, low-fat diet these days, which might be having an incredible impact on his body shape, but not using butter made a right mess of the pan.
The even bigger question was, I admitted to myself: did I really want to commit to Harvey?
A quiver of lust darted through me at the thought of his toned abs. He’d had a lovely body when I met him: slim and athletic. His last job before taking his personal training qualification was selling private medical insurance but he’d felt trapped and lethargic working in an office. Now he was well and truly ‘ripped’. Since he’d been working at Muscle Works gym in Tottenham he had virtually doubled in size: his biceps were like boulders and his thighs were rock solid. Even his neck seemed to have grown. I was a bit leaner too. Partly because of my long hours at the crematorium, but mostly because of the healthy diet Harvey insisted was as good for me as it was for him.
Once the kitchen was clean, I chopped a mountain of vegetables and chicken ready for a stir-fry as soon as Harvey got in. Then I tidied the rest of our fourth-floor flat, which, due to the fact that it was barely bigger than my bedroom at home, took me all of five minutes. He’d be home soon and my stomach was already jittery with nerves. I decided to practise announcing my good news on my sister. I perched on the window sill and dialled her number.
‘Supervisor at a crematorium, hey?’ said Evie with a giggle when I told her. ‘Every young girl’s dream. At least it’ll be quiet.’
‘But it’s a green space,’ I said, gazing absentmindedly through the living-room window at the concrete jungle below. There were some lovely parts of Tottenham; unfortunately, our street wasn’t one of them. ‘You don’t know how precious that is around here. Plus, we’d have a bit more money coming in.’
Although me earning more than Harvey would go down about as well as a hog roast at a vegetarian barbeque.
‘Sorry,’ she said, chastened. ‘And well done on being promoted so quickly; they must really value you. Not that I’m in the least bit surprised; why wouldn’t they? Although …’ She tailed off with a sigh.
‘Although what?’
‘Forgive me if I’m overstepping the mark,
but it doesn’t seem to me as if Harvey’s personal training business has taken off as planned, has it?’
That was an understatement. So far he’d only managed to recruit one client: an old lady who lived a forty-minute tube ride away and conducted her exercises from her armchair. And even that had fizzled out when her son had found out how much Harvey was charging her. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell Evie that; it seemed disloyal.
‘Give him a chance; it will,’ I said, ‘and now he’s working at the gym, it puts him in a good position to pick up private clients. He certainly looks the part; he’s got muscles on muscles these days.’
‘Hmm,’ she said, sounding unconvinced. ‘I half hoped you wouldn’t like it in London and you’d come home. If you take the promotion it feels more permanent. I miss you, Lottie.’
My throat tightened; she’d inadvertently hit the nail on the head. At the moment I was on a zero hours contract: no commitment on either side. This new role would be harder to walk away from. If I needed to. I gave myself a shake.
‘I miss you too,’ I said with a catch in my throat.
And Dad, although he’d be off on his travels as soon as he’d found a tenant to rent the house. But I missed the village. I missed being part of the community. I missed people smiling at me in recognition in the pub, I missed bumping into my mum’s friends who’d been so kind to us after she died. I even missed people knowing my business. Here I was no one, I had no one. Except Harvey. And although in our first few months, we’d had great fun living together, the honeymoon period seemed to be over.
‘I can’t win, though, can I?’ I continued, forcing humour into my voice. ‘You encouraged me to move out, start a new life away from the village. And now I’ve done it, you want me to chuck in the towel and come back.’
‘Touché,’ said Evie with a bark of laughter. ‘Anyway, I’m being selfish. I bet Harvey’s pleased.’
‘He doesn’t know yet. He’s not back from work.’
‘You didn’t call him when you found out?’
‘No, I …’ I hesitated, feeling heat rise to my cheeks as I concocted a lie. ‘He’s not allowed to take personal calls at the gym.’
Something – maybe pride, or possibly even shame – had prevented me from telling my family how things were going between Harvey and me. As far as they were concerned, he was still the golden boy, the one who’d finally persuaded Lottie to fly the nest. I’d thought they might get suspicious when we didn’t come home for Christmas. I’d really wanted to spend a few days with Dad and Evie, especially as Evie had hinted at problems between her and Darren, but Harvey thought we should celebrate our first Christmas alone. We’d only just moved in together and he sweetly said it felt like we were on honeymoon; going home would just spoil the mood. He didn’t have any family, so perhaps he hadn’t understood what a big sacrifice it was for me not to see mine at Christmas and it had been on the tip of my tongue to point that out. But then he had painted such a romantic picture of our day – champagne breakfast, a frosty walk along Oxford Street to peer in shop windows and see the lights, followed by a movie in front of the fire, curled up together – that I’d been unable to resist him.
There was a pause down the line.
‘O-kay,’ said Evie eventually.
Oh sod it, why didn’t I just tell her? I’d never kept secrets from her before. And Evie wouldn’t judge; if anything she’d be upset I hadn’t shared my doubts about Harvey before now.
I took a deep breath, my pulse racing as I built up to it. ‘Evie—’
‘Actually, I’ve got some news too,’ she blurted out in a rush. The urgency in her voice made me forget all about my own worries. Please say she was pregnant.
‘Go on, tell me then.’
‘I’m going to apply for us to become foster parents,’ she said, exhaling as she spoke.
I pushed aside my disappointment; it was still brilliant that they were taking positive action as a couple.
‘That’s amazing, I’m thrilled for you both!’ I cried, my face breaking into a huge smile. ‘See, I told you Darren would come round in the end. He just needed time!’
This had been the bone of contention between them for months. Darren had wanted a child but, according to Evie, he wasn’t interested in going down any route other than the biological one. Evie wanted a child any which way she could.
‘I haven’t told him yet.’ I heard my sister swallow hard and my heart plummeted. ‘I thought I’d go ahead and fill in an initial form online. And then I’ll tell him. Ideally I’d like to adopt, but he’s not sure how he feels about that. At least with fostering we can practise looking after children without a long-term commitment and if it goes well … who knows?’
‘Does this mean that things between the two of you have improved?’ I asked hopefully.
I heard her groan softly. ‘Not so as you’d notice. That’s why we need to do something positive, something that moves us forward.’
‘And you definitely can’t consider other options: sperm donors, egg donors, IVF?’
There was a silence down the line.
‘I would but Darren … Well, let’s just say it’s not an option. Which is why I’m ruling out being a biological mother. No,’ I heard her suck in a breath, ‘fostering ticks a lot of boxes.’
I bit my lip, worried that this approach was more likely to push Darren further away. ‘I don’t think you should get too far into it before you talk to him about it.’
‘But I want to go ahead,’ she said with a wobbly voice. ‘I want to be a mum more than anything.’
‘More than being Darren’s wife?’ I asked softly.
I thought about Mum and Dad and the loving role models they’d been for us. If anyone had been shown how to get it right, it was Evie and me. And yet look at us: I was having doubts about the man I’d fallen so madly in love with and she was going behind the back of a man who up until now had done everything in his power to make her happy.
‘How did it come to this?’ I murmured half to myself.
‘That’s simple,’ said Evie sharply. ‘I got pregnant against the odds and lost it and now because of our problem, Darren and I can’t have the family we wanted, but it doesn’t have to stop us completely, does it?’
Our problem. Evie had never revealed which one of them had fertility problems. She and Darren had simply told everyone that the chances of them conceiving were one in a million. No blame on either side. I totally respected their decision not to go into detail, but it did make this sort of conversation difficult.
‘No, no, of course not. That wasn’t what I meant,’ I said, annoyed with myself for upsetting her. ‘I meant … I was talking about me.’
‘You? What’s up, Lottie? There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’ she asked, her tone suddenly alert. ‘I could tell. I could sense it in your voice.’
The relief at finally being able to open up to her made me almost weep. At that moment the front door crashed open, sending a shot of guilt through me.
‘Harvey’s home,’ I said quickly. ‘Got to go.’
He walked in and dumped several heavy-looking carrier bags on the breakfast bar.
‘But why—’ Evie began.
‘Don’t I get a hello?’ Harvey pulled open the fridge door, took out the carton of milk and gulped at it, looking across at me quizzically.
‘Sorry, I really have to go,’ I said. I got a rash on my throat when I was nervous. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew the signs; the blotches were appearing now. I hated that I did this: finished a call with my friends or family just because Harvey turned up. But it was easier that way. It wasn’t that he didn’t like me having contact with anyone, it was just that … well, I wasn’t sure really. I just knew I needed to go.
‘Okay, but call me soon. I love you.’
‘I love you too,’ I said, ending the call.
Harvey walked towards me, a look of bemusement on his face as he wrapped his arms around me and gave me a cuddle. ‘Should
I be worried?’
He moved like a panther these days, his shoulder muscles rippling under his T-shirt. His cropped black hair glistened with styling oil. ‘Only, dinner’s not ready and I catch you telling someone else that you love them.’
I forced a smile and threaded my arms around his neck, breathing in the smell of him: a faint hint of deodorant and fresh mint chewing-gum breath.
‘Silly,’ I said, kissing him. ‘That was Evie. She and Darren are having problems. And dinner’s not ready because you like your stir-fry still crunchy so I couldn’t start until you got back.’
He nodded slowly, smoothing my hair back from my face, his thumb tracing the faint scar at the end of my eyebrow where a silver birch branch had once flipped up and scratched me.
‘I’m surprised they’re still together; it can’t be easy living with the knowledge that your wife is barren. A man wants a woman who can bear his kids. Darren’s still young enough to meet someone else and Evie, well, maybe she’ll get a cat or—’
‘What are you talking about?’ I pulled away from him, shocked. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say. What about marriage vows? In sickness and in health, for better, for worse?’
‘Sorry, that was a bit harsh.’ Harvey grinned, released me and walked back to the kitchen. ‘But I just think if someone doesn’t keep their side of the bargain, the deal’s off. Let’s get dinner on; I’m starving.’
‘Marriage isn’t a deal, it’s a commitment, a declaration of love,’ I said crossly, folding my arms. ‘And we don’t even know if the medical issue is on her side.’
‘Oh, Lottie, look at these.’ He bent over the vegetables I’d chopped and shook his head. ‘You know I don’t like massive chunks of onion. I’ll have to do it again. And the peppers. Look at the size of them.’ He scooped up a handful of my perfectly acceptable strips of green and red pepper and then dropped them in disgust.
‘Please yourself.’ I poured myself a glass of water, still fuming over his comment about Evie but glad he seemed to have changed the subject.
A Vintage Summer Page 2
