Chances

by Freya North

  ‘To make me feel at home.’

  ‘Me casa, su casa,’ Jonty says. And then he thinks, Could you go now, I want to get back to Garage Band.

  ‘OK,’ Vita says. ‘Very OK.’ And as she leaves his room, she gives his hair a very quick ruffle.

  Tim and Suzie and Vita

  Before long, the swallows were massing and the birch trees – the first to sense autumn – were yellowing. Poplars and sycamores ran the spectrum from brass to gold. Soon enough, rowan and cherry would be ablaze in fiery red. As the third anniversary of DeeDee’s death approached, Vita experienced emotions that germinated as trepidation but developed into a gentle desire simply to provide support to the Bourne Two. For Oliver, the date was an important marker of the year; as fundamental to his personal calendar as Jonty’s birthday or his business’s year-end. Like Christmas Day, it would always be there, shaping his year and the person he was. As they had done for the previous two years, he and Jonty travelled north to spend time with DeeDee’s family. Vita spent a quiet weekend at Pear Tree Cottage. And then they came home. DeeDee’s Day for that year had been and gone. And yet it felt fitting to phone Vita from the motorway to say, Hullo, we’re fine thanks, we’re on our way back. Just as DeeDee’s mother had felt like asking Oliver if perhaps there was a special lady – and he had felt comfortable telling her, Well, yes actually, I think there is. Laughter and tears and reflection and love and hope.

  Tim wasn’t one for anniversaries but when autumn came, he was acutely aware that it marked a year since Vita told him it was over. And, in mid-October, while Suzie unpacked, filling his house with the accoutrements of a woman once more – scatter cushions and scented candles and hearts made out of bunched twigs – he went out, under the pretext of buying milk. Actually, he just wanted a little space to think; fresh air away from the heady scent of vanilla and jasmine or whatever it was that the candles were fragranced with. He could have gone to the pub for a quick pint, but he decided against it. He didn’t feel like it. For once, he didn’t want to sidetrack his thoughts or avoid his feelings, he wanted to look right at the memory and consider how he felt. He needed some space, just for a short while, to sift through all the emotions that had been in chaos since catching sight of Vita with that man earlier in the day.

  Driving to Suzie’s that morning, Tim had automatically used a detour that was useful when the traffic built up during the week but really, there’d been no need for it on a quiet Sunday. It took him on a quiet loop away from town and then back in. It skirted the river, where the buildings finally petered out and the long line of poplars took their place. He was stuck behind two horse riders, and yet the rhythmic sway of their horses’ backsides, the leisurely pace, didn’t wind him up at all – not the way a pensioner tootling along in a car might. For the eternal boy-racer, he was remarkably unfazed. The riders, the trees, the autumn light – it was all good. He was in no real rush to get to Suzie’s. He had the radio on, golden oldies for a golden autumn Sunday, and he was singing along to the Kinks when he saw them on the other side of the road.

  His first response was simply to smile – a nice-looking couple strolling hand in hand, chatting. And then he realized it was Vita. And oh, how she was making this man laugh. She was animated; he could see her jabbering nineteen-to-the-dozen, speaking with her hands at the same time, not looking where she was going. So Vita. God, how that used to get on his nerves. But now look at her, jigging ahead of the man, turning to him and walking backwards whilst chatting, gesticulating crazily. And now look at him, see how he’s laughing. See how he’s lifting Vita up, his arms around her waist while he continues to walk on; carrying her, holding her close to him, and plugging shut that chatterbox mouth of hers with his kisses. Even the sun made its contribution, catching glances of gold in Vita’s hair, highlighting that bastard bloke’s broad bloody shoulders and cheekbones. It didn’t matter what his name was. Tim knew who he was. He was the man who Vita would spend her life with, who would make her happy, keep her safe and be lucky enough to have all that Vita could give in return. The concept, as much as the sight, threw Tim, utterly.

  He had to pull over.

  He’d been so transfixed, gazing at the pair of them as they approached, as they passed by, as they disappeared in his rear-view mirror, that he’d become unaware of how close he was to the pair in front of him. One of the riders had sworn at him. He swerved over and pulled in; sat in his car and slumped, his forehead against the steering wheel, his heart beating painfully against his breastbone. It could’ve been me, it could’ve been me. Idiot. What a loser.

  With Suzie currently unpacking back at his house, as Tim nipped out, he thought back to the morning. It had probably been to Suzie’s advantage that Tim had seen Vita and the man, that he’d panicked. Had he not, he’d have been most likely irritated by all the stuff she was bringing, he’d have argued the toss about what she might as well leave, he’d have shoved her belongings in the back of the car. He’d have been his usual huffy self. It wouldn’t have been a good start. But, arriving at Suzie’s, Tim’s mind didn’t focus on cushions and throws and some hideous lamp whose base was made out of blue glass pebbles. His mind wasn’t even all over the place, it was miles back, down the road, down memory lane. For some reason, he remembered how, when Vita found out that Suzie was back on the scene this time last year, she’d pleaded with him, But do you love her, do you love her? It was as if Vita could cope with him not loving her – but not with the thought that he might actually love another.

  He didn’t love Suzie. He never would. He’d taken Vita’s love for granted, taken liberties with it, taken stupid chances that she’d always love him unconditionally. Today, though, he knew he’d never need to ask Vita the question, But do you love him, do you love him? The love she had for this person, so clearly reciprocated and so full of joy, was as clear as the light of that morning, as strong as the branches and as deep as the roots of the trees they passed by; as bright and as beautiful as the autumn foliage surrounding them.

  Now Tim walked, retracing the route he’d driven that morning. He crossed the road to the side where Vita and her man had been and, very slowly, he followed in the wake of their footsteps. He tuned his senses, listened to the crackle and crunch of the leaves underfoot, the lap of the water, the smell of moist earth and leaf mulch, the slight sharpness in his nostrils from the chill in the air, the feeling of soft warmth from the tired rays of late October’s afternoon sun. As for taste, all he could taste – and all he would be able to taste for some time to come – was the caustic bitterness of profound regret. Life could have been so sweet, but his fate was for it now to be relatively tasteless.

  * * *

  As she walked to That Shop in her lunch hour the following week, Suzie was not proud when she considered there had been a time when she’d have absolutely basked in what she perceived to be some kind of triumph. There was a time – not so long ago, really – when she would have gone all out to make sure Vita knew that she had moved in with Tim. However, it was no insidious emotion which compelled her to visit Vita today and Suzie knew, deep down, that rather than feeling any triumph over Tim finally agreeing to her moving in, her governing feeling was one of tired relief.

  ‘Hullo.’

  Vita looked up from her book. Goodness. ‘Suzie?’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi there – how are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. I was passing. I thought – you know.’

  Vita noticed her hair was a bit too blonde but that, despite the orangey tan, Suzie actually looked a little wan. ‘Did you want to buy something? Trick or treat?’

  Suzie half-smiled and half-heartedly perused the Halloween merchandise. ‘Actually – maybe a candle?’

  ‘These are nice.’ Vita hopped down from her perch and crossed the shop. She showed Suzie the candles in the tin containers. ‘Smell this.’

  ‘God, that’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Orange blossom.’ There they stood, side by side, sniffing scented candles.
>
  ‘How are you?’

  And Vita beamed. ‘I’m dandy.’

  Dandy. Suzie wished wacky words like that came naturally to her.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘Yeah – I’m good,’ Suzie said. She looked straight at Vita. ‘I’ve thought of calling you. But—’ she shrugged.

  ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Yes. It is. I wanted you to know – because he won’t tell you, will he – but I didn’t want you just finding out. But I moved in there – to Tim’s – last weekend.’

  Vita looked at Suzie and her first thought, which she knew she had to keep quiet, was, Why? Why on earth would you want to do that? Move in with someone who’s already cheated on you? Whose track history you know and whom you are justified never to be able to trust? But she empathized with Suzie’s need to give Tim a second chance. She also knew it wasn’t for her to comment. It was down to Suzie’s friends to express opinions and she found that she genuinely hoped Suzie’s friends were good enough to do so. Suzie and Vita weren’t friends, they never would be, but certainly they shared something in common and not just Tim himself. They shared what had evolved briefly that one lone late afternoon during the summer. The talk had been all about Tim and yet ultimately they’d pushed him to one side so they could pursue instead the give and take, the care, concern and confidences that exist between two women.

  It made perfect sense to Vita that Suzie wouldn’t have left Tim, compelled instead to struggle for his affection. ‘Well!’ Vita said. ‘Well – I hope you’ll be happy.’

  Suzie nodded. ‘All my mates think I’m insane. I probably am – in the long run. But do you know what, I have to give it a chance. I have to see whether I can be the one who can change him.’

  Vita nodded. She knew those words off by heart. They’d been her own mantra, a long time ago. Although she referred to her friends as pals rather than mates.

  ‘I understand,’ she said. Suzie shrugged. ‘You’ll be OK,’ Vita said. ‘Whatever happens, you’ll be OK. Someone once said that, in life, we have to size up the chances and calculate the possible risks and our ability to deal with them – and then make our plans accordingly.’

  Suzie traced an arc on the floor with her foot. ‘That’s deep,’ she said. But she nodded and smiled. ‘Thing is, I just felt I should tell you – because if I was you, I’d want to know.’

  ‘Thank you – that’s kind.’

  ‘And you? How’s life?’

  ‘As I said – dandy.’

  ‘Are you seeing anyone?’

  Vita broke out into an expansive smile and nodded.

  ‘Is he nice?’

  ‘He’s lovely.’

  ‘Does he make you happy?’

  ‘Very much so.’

  ‘I’m dead pleased for you,’ said Suzie.

  ‘Look – please have this,’ Vita said, giving her the candle. ‘Have it as a secret little house-warming present from me to you. It would do Tim’s head in if he found I’d been giving freebies straight back to him.’

  Suzie laughed, holding the candle carefully in both hands. ‘Cheers,’ she said.

  ‘Good luck,’ Vita said. ‘Be happy.’

  At the door, Suzie turned. ‘Shall I keep in touch then?’

  ‘As and when,’ Vita said. ‘That’s fine by me.’

  ‘And me,’ said Suzie. ‘Thanks.’

  Once outside, Suzie walked slowly past the shop. Vita was back behind the table, nose buried in a book. Suzie waited until she looked up, then she smiled and raised her hand. Vita mirrored her.

  * * *

  Tim and Vita sat down together on a Sunday in early November to go through the accounts. The shop wasn’t open so they convened there, pushing the till to one side and stacking elsewhere the jars of pencils and erasers and the little tray with the magnets, the basket with the printed paper tissues. The accounts were straightforward. The numbers were neither bad nor good. That Shop was riding out the recession cautiously and that’s what mattered.

  ‘Is it still that Oliver bloke?’ Tim suddenly asked, with no preamble.

  Vita looked straight at him. ‘Yes.’

  ‘What does he do?’

  ‘He’s an arboricultural consultant.’

  ‘You mean he’s a lumberjack?’

  ‘Sod off!’ but she was laughing because Tim had said it with a reluctant smile.

  ‘Are you happy, babe?’ Tim asked gently and Vita thought how sad his eyes were when he said it. Earlier, when he’d arrived, she’d thought how shabby he looked – a bit jowly and pale, as though he wasn’t eating well. She also remembered him as taller, his posture better.

  ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘I am very happy.’

  Tim doodled thoughtfully with a pencil. And then, almost shyly, he put the back of his hand lightly against Vita’s cheek. He held her eyes. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered. ‘For the misery I caused you.’ He didn’t want her to look away. ‘For doing what I did – and not doing what I should have done. I’m a cunt.’ A tear started and stopped in the corner of his eye.

  Vita gently took his hand away from her face. ‘That’s a bit harsh,’ she said. ‘Let’s settle for a tosser and a twat.’

  He laughed a little. ‘I hope he treats you well, Vita.’

  ‘He does.’

  ‘Good.’ He paused. ‘That really is good.’ Then he put his head down. ‘I’m insanely jealous!’ His voice cracked. ‘I regret so much.’ He shook his head at himself. ‘I’m beyond jealous.’

  ‘You’re not,’ said Vita, ‘you’re just nostalgic, perhaps.’

  He shrugged, nodded. ‘I am happy for you.’ He was trying to smile warmly but his eyes betrayed him. They were hollow with sadness. ‘I wish it was me. But I know it’s not about me. I know that. It’s you. And I hope you have the chance to be truly happy – to be loved and cherished and respected. I hope he’ll keep you safe. I’ll kill him if he doesn’t.’

  Vita laid her head lightly on Tim’s shoulder and he slipped his arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

  ‘You look after Suzie,’ she said and she marvelled at the genuine emotion she was putting behind words she’d so long assumed she’d be incapable of saying.

  ‘I’m not making a very good job of it,’ he mumbled.

  ‘So – try harder,’ Vita said. ‘This is your chance to take what happened between us – and put it to good use.’

  They sat in a silence that was as steady as it was awkward. Then Tim tapped the table. ‘Right!’ he said. ‘I’d better be off!’ He kissed her clumsily on the forehead but he kept his lips there. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘Always have. Always will.’

  And then Tim left.

  It no longer crossed Vita’s mind to even wonder where he’d be going, let alone fret about it. All she wanted to do was to lock up and go home. She was doing chops and chips for supper, for Jonty and Oliver. And they were bringing the dessert.

  Parenting

  ‘What’s up?’ Oliver had been watching Vita for a few minutes, lying next to him in bed, her eyes busy tracing imaginary patterns on the ceiling. It was mid-November. Fireworks and pumpkins were gone, many of the trees were bare but it seemed the world was in good spirits and just starting to gear up for Christmas.

  ‘Nothing’s up.’

  ‘Fibber. I know you, Vita.’

  ‘Nothing’s up. Actually, I was just thinking we ought to get up and start thinking about lunch because Mum is usually early.’

  ‘Fibber. It’s nine o’clock on a Sunday morning. I might be cack-handed in the kitchen but not even I can take three whole hours to prepare a roast.’

  ‘Actually, I was just wondering if we ought to ring Jonty, you know, to see if he wants a lift back. I should hate for him to be late.’

  ‘Fibber. He won’t be late – he likes her. Remember how well they rubbed together at his school fireworks? Anyway, my son’s abnormally prompt for a teenager – and you know that too.’

  Oliver propped himself up, placing his arms either
side of her, dipping his face to kiss one nipple and then the other.

  ‘What’s up, missy?’

  ‘I don’t want to tell you.’ She turned her face.

  Oliver used his nose, his lips, to nudge it back to him. ‘You can tell me anything.’ He could see how hard she was trying to fathom out if she really could. He returned to his side of the bed, lay on his side and stroked her hair. He liked her new cut, it really suited her. It had been Michelle’s idea. She’d pampered Vita with all sorts of treatments on her birthday last week. Oliver had bought her a watch and Jonty had given her a T-shirt emblazoned with the PainMeister album cover on it, because Vita was always saying she thought they were cool.

  She turned to Oliver. ‘I’m very nervous about saying this.’

  He nodded.

  They nestled down into their pillows.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked again. She looked into his face and knew she could tell him.

  ‘I have come into a family where there is one child – by choice.’

  ‘You don’t like my boy?’ Oliver smiled gently and managed to coax one out of Vita.

  ‘I love your boy, silly,’ she said. She put out her hand and touched his face, ran her fingers along his arm and found his hand under the pillow. ‘I mean – you wanted one child, didn’t you? You and DeeDee chose to have Jonty as your only child.’ She could see that Oliver was concentrating hard on what she was saying. ‘It’s just – it’s just. I have – Oh God – if I say this it’s going to change everything.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Oliver – I would like to have a baby. That’s the problem. That’s what’s up.’

  ‘You’re now thirty-four,’ he said.

  She nodded.

  ‘Seems perfectly natural to me.’

  ‘But – you? Jonty?’

  ‘What about us?’

  She paused. ‘It’s not what you want.’

  Oliver found his eyes wandering to the invisible maze on the ceiling that Vita had been scouring earlier on.

  ‘How do you know what I don’t want?’