“Oh my God,” she said. “I’d forgotten how great these are!”
Sarah ate the second clump of chocolate and insisted that Joey have the third. Then Sarah stood up abruptly and said, “Come on down. I’ve got a pile of these on the stove.”
The walls of the staircase were lined with dozens of framed pictures of babies, beaming, toothless children, a gradually widening Sarah, and a remarkably unchanged Henry. He looked as trim and fit as he always had.
At the bottom of the stairs, Joey was clipped by a fast-moving mop of blonde hair. There was a riotous scramble of feet and two more children skidded around the corner, slipping on the highly polished floorboards. Behind them came the boy who had opened Joey’s bedroom door. He seemed to be trying to collect himself.
“Aunt Joey,” he said. “I’m Christopher.”
“Just call me Joey. Just Joey’s fine.”
Christopher stuck out a hand politely and waited for Joey to grasp it. He was clearly trying hard to be grown-up.
“Pleased to meet you – again.” Joey said, taking his hand. He shook hers firmly.
Two of the children came screeching back.
“Auntie Joey!” the small blonde girl sang, wrapping her arms tightly around Joey’s thigh.
“This is Zoë,” Christopher said.
“Auntie Joey!” Zoë squealed, squeezing harder. Joey struggled to keep her balance.
“Just Joey is fine,” Joey repeated firmly.
They started laughing and chanting, “Just Joey, Just Joey!”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Joey said.
“Just Joey, Zoë just turned four,” said Christopher. “Just Joey and Zoë, it rhymes.”
“It does,” Joey said, tiring of the refrain already.
“And you know Timothy, Just Joey.” Christopher indicated a boy wearing a hooded jacket like a cape.
“I’m not Timothy,” said the boy crossly.
Christopher gave Joey a conspiratorial look. “Superman is eight. He’s twins with Matilda. She’s shy. She’s out in the garden.”
My kind of kid, Joey thought. Somewhere else.
“How old are you, again, Chris?” Joey asked.
“I’m going to be ten in June.”
“Right. Of course.” Joey said. “Is your mum in the kitchen?”
“I’ll take you to her,” Christopher replied. “This way, Just Joey.”
Christopher took the lead and Joey and the others fell in behind him. Zoë and Timmy gave a strange sort of salute, Zoë’s more like a fumbled wave. After zigzagging through a series of gloomy corridors – Joey suspected that she was being taken the back way – they all burst into the sunny kitchen.
“Here you are,” Sarah said. She bent down to kiss Timmy on the nose and handed Christopher a saucepan with the scrapings of the sticky candy.
“You guys can lick the pan, but take it out into the garden.”
“It’s freezing outside!” Timmy protested.
“Then put on a jacket,” Sarah instructed him calmly. “And it’s not freezing. Matilda’s out there in just a T-shirt.”
Zoë ran to the window. “She is,” the girl confirmed.
“All for me!” Chris teased, swooping away with the pan of candy. Timmy and Zoë howled in protest and raced out after him.
The kitchen was large, airy and modern. A wide oak table, surrounded by black metal chairs, took up much of the room and gleaming stainless steel appliances, all industrial strength and size, lined the walls. Sarah, now wearing a blue and white striped apron, was standing at the stove, stirring another mucky mess of melting marshmallow and chocolate.
“A friend of Timmy’s is having a birthday party and these always go down like the proverbial hot cakes,” she explained. “I just made tea. It’s in the pot.”
Joey stepped up to the counter, reached for a mug sitting on one of the open shelves and poured herself some tea. “Are they hard to make?” asked Joey, opening the fridge in search of cream or milk. She stood staring at the most packed refrigerator she had ever seen as Sarah rattled off the recipe.
“Easy as anything. Melt the marshmallows and chocolate with half a stick of butter, stir in the Rice Krispies, press it all into a pan and let it cool. Or make them into clumps with your fingers. That’s it!”
As Sarah measured cereal and poured it into the pan she had been stirring, Joey glanced around the room. On closer inspection, the kitchen was quite a mess. In one corner sat what looked like a pirate island, encircled by a fleet of plastic and wooden ships and strewn with plastic figures, most missing legs and arms. On the opposite side of the room was a child-sized pink pedal car and a wall dedicated to children’s drawings and paintings. Joey carried her mug across the space and examined the art: boats on the sea, trees laden with apples, animals of undeterminable species.
Timmy suddenly barrelled back through the door, and noticing Joey perusing the paintings, skittered over to her side.
“That one’s mine,” he said proudly, pointing.
“A – rabbit?” Joey guessed.
Timmy’s face fell. “It’s not a rabbit. It’s Mindy,” he said, looking offended.
“Mindy?” Joey said sheepishly, looking to Sarah for help.
“Our cat,” Sarah said.
“You know, I kind of thought it was a cat,” Joey said quickly. “I almost said, cat.”
Timmy had fixed her with a reproachful look, but Sarah saved the day by announcing that yet another pan was available to be licked. She handed it to Timmy, and with that, he was gone.
Sarah plopped a bowl of the marshmallow mixture down onto the table, poured herself some tea and motioned Joey over. They both sat down.
“So.”
“So,” Joey echoed.
“Where were we?”
“Where were we when?”
“When you fell asleep on me!”
Joey knew exactly where they had been: approaching the treacherous topic of her love life. She so didn’t want to go there, but there was no way to avoid the subject.
“I don’t know,” Joey said evasively, sipping her tea. “Where were we?”
Sarah gave her a look, but pressed on. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Joey shook her head.
“What about that guy who worked at Lincoln Center?”
“Jonathan? Sarah, that was years ago.”
“Well I haven’t seen you for years. We haven’t really talked in years, not about this. I thought you really liked him.”
“I did like him, but –”
“But what?” Sarah asked.
“He was too – too –”
“Too what?”
“Short.”
“Short? You broke up with him because he was too short? You’re not serious.”
“Well, it wasn’t just that. He had no sense of humour, he was cheap, and all he liked to do was go sailing. I hate sailing. Anyway, that was light years ago.”
“No, you’re right. Hang on… I remember more recently you mentioning some guy at work,” Sarah said. From the tone of her voice, Joey assumed that she must have told Sarah the relationship with Alex had to be kept super-secret.
“How much did I tell you?” Joey asked.
“Not enough,” Sarah said, sighing. “I want to hear everything. It’s heavenly having you sitting right here.” Sarah reached into the bowl and pulled off a little clump of candy, which she popped into her mouth.
“Well, it’s over,” Joey said simply. “He dumped me.”
Sarah chewed slowly, waiting for Joey to go on. When she didn’t, Sarah asked, “What happened?”
“I was stupid,” Joey said. “I should never have gotten involved with a partner at work.”
“Who started it?” Sarah asked.
“He did. He picked me to be on his team for this big redevelopment project, and the next thing I know, we’re working late every night, having food delivered…”
“Et cetera?” Sarah prompted.
Joey nodded.
“Did the people at work know?”
“Not at first. I think some might have suspected, but then one of the secretaries, a major blabbermouth, saw us in a restaurant in April. He broke up with me not long after that.”
“Because he didn’t want the relationship to become public?” Sarah asked.
“That’s what he said. That it would be bad for him and disastrous for me. But about a month later, I found out that he’d been seeing this woman out in the Hamptons for eight or nine months.”
“You’re kidding.”
Joey shook her head, suddenly feeling miserable. Images of their days together flashed through her mind: her and Alex vacationing on Nantucket, skiing in Vail, cooking pasta in her apartment, making love in his flat on Central Park West. She was silent for several moments. Sarah sipped her tea, gazing across the table sympathetically.
“You really liked him, didn’t you?”
Joey came back to the present moment. And then sur-prised herself by welling up with tears. She nodded as the tears spilled over. “I was so stupid.”
“You weren’t stupid,” Sarah said quietly, pulling her chair closer and reaching across the table for her friend’s hand. “You were willing to open up your heart to him. He was the stupid one.”
Joey shook her head, fighting to bring her tears under control.
“Yes he was,” Sarah insisted. “He was an idiot. And he’ll live to regret this.”
“I doubt it,” Joey whispered.
“I don’t,” Sarah said decisively.
They sat quietly for several moments. Sarah pushed the candy bowl toward Joey, but Joey shook her head. She’d already had more than enough.
“Why don’t you go for a walk?” Sarah suggested. “Get some air before dinner. The kids can show you around. They’d love to.”
Joey shrugged. The candy had turned to lead in her stomach, and she suddenly felt tired again. All she wanted to do was to go back upstairs and be alone.
“Maybe,” she said. “But I’ll go by myself.”
Sarah looked up quickly. “The kids would love to take you. They’ve really been looking forward to your coming.”
“I don’t think I have the energy for – the whole gang.”
Sarah’s smile faded slightly, but when she spoke there was softness in her voice.
“All right. Whatever you want.”
Chapter 6
When Sarah had referred to “giving the children their tea,” Joey had pictured the four little Howards seated around the kitchen table sipping milky Earl Grey and munching on marmite sandwiches and digestives. She hadn’t realised that this term meant supper, and that rather than having a long evening meal reminiscing with Henry and Sarah, the children tucked happily out of sight somewhere, they would all be eating dinner at the kitchen table at the uncivilised hour of six.
Henry had opened the door to her when she got back from her walk, and the pictures on the wall hadn’t lied: he seemed hardly to have aged at all. He had always reminded Joey of Colin Firth, and he still did. She found herself wondering why a decade of family life had affected Sarah’s appearance the way it had, yet exerted virtually no effect on Henry’s. Was it the result of Sarah having borne the children, of her spending too much time in the kitchen, of not having a work presence in the world and hence a work wardrobe to fit into, or of just not caring about her appearance any more? Whatever the reason, Joey vowed that if she ever did have children, she wouldn’t let herself go this way.
“You look fabulous,” Henry said, after sweeping Joey into a warm embrace, and leading her down stairs.
“Don’t give me that,” she teased, glancing in Sarah’s direction. “I look jet-lagged and ten years older.”
Henry smiled and poured her a glass of wine. At least she wasn’t going to be expected to drink milk.
“Go wash your hands,” Sarah called from the stove, where she was dishing up bowls of steaming potatoes and vegetables. Zoe and Timmy were already at their places at the table.
“I did,” said Zoë.
“You did not,” Timmy countered.
“I did, too!” Zoë screeched.
Henry calmly walked to where Zoë was sitting and held out his hand. She offered up her palms for her father’s inspection. “Clean enough,” he pronounced.
Matilda appeared and slipped quietly into the chair beside Joey’s. Joey glanced over and smiled, but the shy little girl could barely make eye contact.
Sarah set serving dishes on the table while Henry removed a roast leg of lamb from the oven and transferred it to a carving board.
“Where’s Chris?” Sarah asked.
No one answered.
“Where’s your brother, Timothy?” she asked again.
“Upstairs.”
“Well, go get him!” Sarah looked damp and her tone bordered on irritated.
“Why do I always have to go? Make her go!”
Timmy shot a resentful glance at Zoë.
“I’ll get him,” Henry said.
“You will not,” Sarah replied sharply. “That lamb needs to be carved now.” She turned to Timothy. “March, mister. And if I hear another word out of that fresh little mouth of yours, you’ll be going to bed without supper.”
Whoa! Joey thought. You go, girl! These kids could use a bit more of firmness like this in her opinion.
“Ha, ha!” taunted Zoë.
“Shut up!” Timmy snapped as he slid out of his chair.
“What did you say?” Henry asked in a steely tone. “Timothy Snowden Howard!”
“He said ‘shut up’,” Zoë tattled gleefully.
“Did I ask you?” Henry replied. “No, I asked your brother.”
Timmy had turned at the sound of his father’s voice and now stood miserably by the back stairwell. Taking pity on the guilty boy, or perhaps just hoping to end all the bickering, Henry said calmly, “We don’t use that kind of language in this family. Now, go and tell your brother that dinner is ready.”
Relieved to be spared the punishment that seconds before had seemed inevitable, Timmy clambered up the stairs without another word.
The catching up that Joey had hoped to do with Sarah and Henry happened later, once the kids were upstairs, supposedly in bed. Joey could hear talking and running around on the second floor until nearly ten o’clock. She wondered why neither Sarah nor Henry made an effort to enforce bedtime, but she wasn’t going to ask. They were clearly capable of cracking the whip when they wanted to, but as they all sat in the living room sipping wine before a blazing fire, both parents turned a deaf ear to the sounds of their children’s hijinks upstairs.
“So let’s talk about what you’re really doing here,” Henry had said when they sat down.
“Henry!” Sarah squealed.
“I meant about work! We’re thrilled to see you, of course.”
When Joey mentioned Stanway House, Henry arched an eyebrow. “Ah yes, the development…”
“Henry, don’t wind her up,” Sarah said. “You might actually be of some help in the whole thing.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” said Henry, settling back in his chair and taking a sip of wine. “The first thing we need to do is get you introduced to my mother. Benbrough is just a few miles down the road from where you’re going to be working. She knows everyone in the area.”
“Yes, Sarah told me,” Joey laughed. “So you do all know each other! Is that where you grew up?”
Henry nodded. “Been there for generations. Mother wishes we were still there, all of us.”
“No, thank you,” Sarah said, smiling. “I adore her, I really do. She fantastic. But I’m a city girl. London’s not New York, but it’s better than –”
“The sticks?” Henry supplied cheerfully.
“Exactly!”
“I’ll get you there yet,” he teased.
“Good luck,” Sarah shot back.
Joey smiled. She felt a little guilty about thoughts she’d had during dinner, when she wondered if Sarah’s
changed appearance ever made Henry think of – straying. It was Europe, after all. Didn’t Europeans, and especially aristocrats, which Henry definitely was, tend to treat the issue of marital fidelity a little more casually than Americans? But this gentle teasing and even the easy give-and-take they’d manifested during dinner spoke of an affectionate relationship characterised by humour and mutual tolerance.
“You mentioned you might be able to help?” said Joey. “Is there something I should know about?”
Henry and Sarah exchanged glances.
“Nothing Mother can’t help you solve, if she wants to,” Henry said.
“Oh, go on, Hens,” Sarah replied. “You’re making more of it than it is.”
“More of what?” Joey asked.
Henry motioned to Sarah. Since she apparently thought that he was being too dramatic, he would let her tell the story.
“It’s nothing,” said Sarah. “Really.”
“You’re making me very nervous,” Joey said, holding out her glass for more wine.
“I’m teasing, Joey,” Henry went on. “I’ve just heard that some of the old farts down there aren’t happy that Stanway’s going to be done up and turned into a hotel. They wanted it to remain in private hands. They’re afraid it’s going to become Disney World.” Henry now slipped into parody, imitating a pompous old man: “There have been rumours about – a spa.”
“It will have a little spa,” Joey said. “But a spa as in Baden-Baden, not the Equinox Club.”
“What’s the Equinox Club?” Henry asked.
“Never mind!” Sarah said. “The point is, everybody loves Aggie – she’s the most down-to-earth person you’re likely to meet. If she’s on your side, and we know she will be, you’re halfway there.”
The house was quiet when Joey awoke in the morning. She had stumbled off to bed about eleven thirty, and between the wine and the jet-lag, she had slept soundly. She glanced at her BlackBerry: nine thirty. She dimly remembered a lot of noise and bustle earlier in the morning – Sarah getting the kids up and out of the house – but she had nodded off again as soon as the house quieted down. Now, all was silent.
The J M Barrie Ladies' Swimming Society Page 4
