The New Beginnings Coffee Club

by Samantha Tonge

  He paused. ‘Agreed. I’ll suggest the two of them go to the restaurant launch without me.’ He held his head in his hands, then kind of gulped. ‘Sorry it’s got to this, Jenny,’ he said, in a hoarse voice. ‘You’re right – Mum would have banged our heads together by now and she’d be less than impressed with me and how I lost my temper with Elle.’

  He gulped again and I quickly moved and sat by him on the sofa. He turned to face me, eyes glistening. ‘She never had doubts, you know – about you. When we got engaged some family and friends made comments about me marrying someone so young. But Mum always said your heart was true and that was all that mattered.’ He stared at his hands that were now holding mine. ‘To be honest, her death … the cancer … It’s knocked me off course.’

  I squeezed his fingers, in that moment our custody fight forgotten. Zak had been the most important man in my life for the last ten years – for the whole of my adulthood. The feelings were deep-set. Despite everything, caring couldn’t just be extinguished like a fire I didn’t want to burn any more. ‘I know you two were so close.’

  His head bobbed up and down. ‘It’s funny – when you’re young, you think you’ll be old and wise when your parents pass on and will be able to cope. Dad going was bad enough but, me and Mum, we got each other through it. But when she died …’

  I swallowed. ‘I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you. I … I tried, Zak, but you never seemed to want to talk about it and threw yourself into work – or, well, spent more time away from home for one reason or another.’ I pulled my hands away. ‘I decided you just needed time and that the distance between us was necessary for your grief to heal.’

  His shining eyes met mine. ‘The longer hours … at the office … Yes, well, as for me and Chanelle, we –’

  ‘Don’t do this,’ I whispered, chest tight and painful. ‘What’s done is done.’

  ‘But I broke up our family. Mum would never forgive me. It’s just, Chanelle was there …’

  I bet she was.

  ‘… and with her I could pretend it hadn’t happened. Act as if I was the old Zak from before. A voice inside me kept telling me it was wrong. But another louder, hurting, selfish voice just said, what the hell.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve let everyone – including myself – down.’

  I put my hand on his shoulder and my insides crumpled a little at the pain etched into his face. ‘Don’t be too harsh on yourself,’ I said gently. ‘Celia would understand. Your dad wasn’t her first husband, was he? Who knows what went wrong with her first marriage.’

  He lifted his hand to mine and moved it towards his mouth. He kissed the palm.

  ‘Zak. What are you …?’

  ‘Sorry.’ He moved back, but his eyes were fixed on my mouth.

  My mind spun for a moment.

  I was over Zak, right?

  This was a case of nostalgia making me feel sentimental.

  ‘Zak, darling!’ called a voice.

  We both jumped. Chanelle. I stood up.

  ‘So can you get all that organised for Friday after school?’ I said in a more matter-of-fact voice.

  Chanelle appeared in a low-cut white dress and strappy gladiator-style sandals. ‘Jenny.’

  ‘Hello.’

  She looked from me to Zak. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. April enjoyed her makeover on Saturday,’ I said, stiffly.

  ‘Skye enjoyed seeing her. In fact, that reminds me, Zak. Skye would like a skateboard.’

  *

  I couldn’t help smiling to myself on the way home. Skye had stayed true to character, wanting to outdo her friends – outdo April. Whereas April was beginning to see the true meaning of friendship and didn’t want to get a skateboard until Tom could afford one too.

  When I got back to the cottage, Elle and April were singing on the karaoke machine. With her chocolate bob and matching nails, and the bold colours of her outfit, Elle looked vibrant and sassy. I went out into the garden to drink a cup of tea with Noah, who was on his laptop, researching new beans for the next Tasting Club session and moaning that he had to then go through the accounts. We sat in silence for a while, yet I couldn’t keep still. Zak’s apologetic, regretful words had unsettled me. To the point where I asked Noah if we could go for an extra evening jog.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he teased and closed his screen. ‘I’d better call the doctor.’

  ‘Cheeky! No. I just want to run my best in this charity race.’

  He stared at me. ‘How did it go with Zak?’

  ‘Fine.’ Heat surged into my cheeks, ‘He’s agreed to help.’ I sipped my tea and stared at the lawn. Zak had almost sounded as if he’d regretted leaving me for Chanelle. That he might want me back. I’d spent so long hardening myself against the hurt but that thought, that Zak reckoned he might have made a mistake …

  I made my excuses and hurried up to my room. I shut the door, lay on the bed, and the defensive mask that I’d been wearing in public, all these weeks, to protect myself slipped. It had slipped a few times before, in private, but not like this. I put my hands over my eyes and sobbed uncontrollably, even more violently than on the night I’d drunk saké. My chest heaved. My throat scratched. Rivers of distress ran from my nose and eyes.

  For so many years I’d looked up to Zak. Tried to fit in. Told myself I was lucky to enjoy such a privileged existence. What had been the point? My whole body shook, as if it were exorcising the last remnants of love I held for Zak. I’d never felt good enough for him and his life, and it was almost as if him leaving me had proved that. I sat up and hugged my knees and howled into my thighs.

  Then, slowly, the shaking subsided. My head pounded as perspective crept in. It wasn’t a case of me not being good enough. I’d been a good mum, a supportive wife. This was just life. Stuff happened. And I could either wallow in my self-pity or pull myself together and push forwards with my new plans.

  I still felt unsettled after the run, and whilst Elle endured another sci-fi movie in the lounge with Noah, I sat down to my sketching. I drew a T-shirt with a skateboard on the front. Perhaps this weekend I would design the header for my website and see if Elle could put some time aside to help with the technical side.

  Whilst the prospect excited me, my mind kept returning to Zak, and I considered what had previously seemed like an impossible question – what would I say if Zak announced our split was one big fat mistake and that he wanted me back?

  Did I owe it to April – to the last ten years – to give our marriage another go?

  Had I really let go of my last feelings for him, or was my broken heart begging for one last try?

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  As April and I pulled up outside The Willows, for the thousandth time I shook my head and contemplated the question of whether Zak really wanted me back. My heart squeezed – just a little – as I pictured his vulnerable face when he’d talked about losing his mother. How – before Chanelle – I would have healed him in the way he liked best, by leading him upstairs to bed.

  Then my thoughts switched to Noah and me. Yesterday he’d looked briefly morose, so my cure for him had been a discussion – okay, argument! – about whether Enid Blyton books should be updated, to make the language more current, to remove some words which, in today’s society, might be deemed offensive.

  Despite the disagreement, our love of books held the banter together and cheered him up. By the end of the debate, a laughing Elle had had to intervene. Noah and I had grinned at each other and then gone on to talk about a new vintage bookstore opening in Comberfield, at the end of the summer. We planned to visit it together.

  I glanced at April, as she opened the car door on her side. She swallowed and turned back to me. ‘It’s okay, Mummy. I know you can’t really bring Granny back. It was unfair of me to put it on that list.’ She gave a lopsided smile. ‘Tom said I should put a photo of her up in my room. He did that when his dog Buddy died. Sometimes he speaks to the
picture. It would be nice to do that with Granny.’

  ‘That’s a lovely idea, sweetie. Come on. Let’s go and find Daddy. I’m sure he’ll have a great picture we can use.’

  April darted up to the front door but didn’t need to knock as Zak had opened it before she’d lifted her hand in the air. I locked up my car. Wow. Zak seemed to have dressed to impress. He wore smartly ironed chino shorts and a white linen shirt. He knew I loved – or used to love – him dressed in white as it showed off his dark looks and tan. His hair was slicked back and as I approached, the zing of the aftershave I bought him last Christmas wafted through the air.

  I stood straighter. Stop being ridiculous, Jenny. He probably just threw on some clothes after getting in from work. We went in and Zak took us straight upstairs, me carrying the Victoria Sandwich I’d baked. We stopped outside the spare bedroom door, so April could finish telling Zak about how Buttercup was now old enough to go outdoors and that her furry face looked so cute the first time she’d seen ducks in the stream.

  ‘Granny loved cats but their fur didn’t love her,’ said Zak.

  April raised her eyebrows.

  ‘She was allergic,’ he said.

  ‘Is that why she had goldfish?’

  He grinned. ‘Yes. As she got older, she said her memory was about as short as theirs.’

  The three of us smiled and I shivered. I wasn’t cold. In fact, as the week had progressed, the weather had got warm again and today April and I both wore sundresses. Mine was orange and white. April’s was loose with T-shirt sleeves. No, I wasn’t chilly. It just felt weird, after all this time, the three of us being alone in the house together. And it seemed so big now. Airy and neat. To my surprise, I missed the bustle of the cottage.

  Zak looked at me and I nodded. He pushed open the bedroom door. Celia’s favourite jazz artist was playing – Louis Armstrong. April went in and sat on the double bed. She squidged up towards the headboard and leant against it. Zak and I joined her, plumping up pillows. He reached to the bedside table and picked up a photo album.

  ‘Granny loved this song,’ said April. ‘She said she really wished we had all the time in the world to find out the secrets of the universe. Granny was always trying something new, wasn’t she? Remember when she learnt a bit of Japanese?’

  We all grinned. Unlike Zak, Celia had loved Asian food. I’d gone to the House of Sushi with her once and Mr Oshiro had been so impressed – even when she asked for pickled humans (ningen) instead of carrots (ninjin).

  ‘Mummy – now can you tell me what’s in that plastic box?’

  ‘Granny’s favourite cake.’

  ‘The one with cream and jam in the middle? Fab-u-licious!’

  I smiled and reached for a cardigan on the table by my side. I smelt it and passed it to April. She buried her face in it and breathed in the sweet fragrance.

  ‘Granny …’ she said, in a small voice. ‘It smells just like her. I wish she was here – to meet Tom. And Buttercup. And Noah and Elle.’ Her chin trembled. ‘She’d have liked Elle because they both like musicals – don’t you think, Daddy?’

  Avoiding my eyes, he shrugged.

  ‘How about we look through these photo albums?’ I said brightly. ‘And then Daddy will go out to fetch Granny’s favourite takeaway meal.’

  April squealed. ‘Not fish and chips? She won’t be happy in heaven.’

  ‘Actually, they are delivering, like they always used to, in half an hour,’ he said. ‘I ordered cod and chips all around, if that’s okay.’ He looked at me. ‘With a pickled onion for you. They waived the charge; said we’d always been great customers and hoped we would be again, when we got back on our feet.’

  I smiled, having almost forgotten that money and reputation could buy you almost anything – including delivery meals from takeaway restaurants that usually made you queue up in the rain. As for the pickled onion, that had become a craving when I was pregnant. We used to laugh and say that was why April cried so much during the first few months.

  I cleared my throat. ‘We’d better get on with looking at these photos then.’

  April shuffled back and Zak and I moved closer to the open album on her lap. A sudden wave of emotion hit me as sitting here, the three of us, reminded me of the nights we used to read April a story before she went to bed. As she turned the pages we all drew breaths at sepia photos of relatives dressed for war. Of beautiful hats, out of fashion now. Of boy babies wearing dresses. My thoughts strayed to Elle and to my plans for the IndyVidual clothing line – to how we’d been taught that fashion was never stagnant, and reflected the changes in society and people.

  ‘Is that you, Daddy?’ said April and pointed to a photo of a very young Celia on a beach, with a chubby baby in her arms.

  ‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘Unless there is a brother or sister out there that I don’t know about.’

  The doorbell rang as we reached the last page and Zak jumped off the bed. He strode out of the room and went downstairs.

  ‘Why don’t you go and help Daddy bring up the meal,’ I said.

  ‘Yes. Knowing him, he’ll forget the most important thing – tomato ketchup.’ With a giggle, she shuffled past me and landed on the floor. With the room empty, I flicked once again through the pictures. Most of our family photos were saved on the computer, apart from a few we had framed or downloaded onto one of those moving digital albums. I lifted the album to my face. It smelt musty and old. Perhaps one day April would sit down with her children and tell them all about her wonderful grandma.

  Footsteps broke my line of thought and I lifted the sponge onto the bed. Zak and April came in, accompanied by the wonderful aroma of fried potato and fish.

  ‘Granny really will be shaking her finger at us, enjoying food on the bed.’ I grinned.

  ‘We thought we could watch her favourite film whilst eating,’ said Zak to April and put the Gone with the Wind DVD on whilst she and I sorted out the food and napkins.

  Ten minutes later we sat silently scoffing chips out of newspaper. When we’d finished, the three of us huddled up together, April hugging Celia’s scented cardigan. Heart bursting with love, I gazed at her and my eyes pricked. This evening represented April’s last wish. She’d been at Laventon Primary for four weeks. Zak would expect an answer from her about moving back to Oakwood Towers. If she wanted to … I swallowed, unable to face the thought of being separated from my little girl.

  About an hour into the film April yawned. I looked at Zak and we smiled.

  ‘Shall we watch the rest another day?’ I said. ‘It is rather a long film.’

  April nodded vigorously. ‘Yes please – I mean, this is great and you’ve made my wish come true. Tonight I’ve felt close to Granny but …’ She looked skyward. ‘Sorry, Granny, the film is a bit boring.’

  Zak lifted up the remote and turned off the movie.

  ‘Can we just sit here for a moment?’ she said and slipped an arm through each of ours. ‘We never do this any more, spend time together, the three of us …’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I miss it.’

  My eye pricked as I kissed the top of her head. ‘I know it’s hard, darling, and you’ve done ever so well, these last few weeks.’

  ‘I’m glad you and Daddy are still friends,’ she mumbled. ‘Kitty in my class says her parents swear at each other, every time her dad comes to pick her up. It won’t ever get like that with you two, will it?’ With wide eyes she looked at me and then Zak.

  He ruffled her hair. ‘Of course not. We both want what’s best for you.’

  Thinking ahead about going to court, my jaw clenched. Yet my face relaxed when she gave him the briefest of hugs for the first time since she’d started to blame him for our breakup. His eyes glistened for a second, before she scooted out of the room, saying she wanted to clear out her wardrobe for the second-hand clothes stall at her school’s summer fair.

  I glanced sideways at Zak. ‘Thanks for getting involved,’ I said. ‘Tonight has o
bviously meant a lot to April.’

  ‘It’s meant a lot to me,’ he said and reached across with his hand.

  I pulled back. ‘Zak. Don’t. You made your decision. You’re taking me to court. What’s done is done. Don’t mess things up now we’re finally getting our family unit back on track.’

  He shifted his body to face mine – the long limbs, the taut torso, both of which had overpowered me in the best way, whilst making love. My heartbeat sped up a little. My throat felt dry. He reached out and with a finger gently touched my mouth. ‘Cream,’ he said softly. ‘That Victoria sponge was great.’

  I squirmed uncomfortably and went to leave the bed, but Zak wrapped his fingers around my arm.

  ‘Oh, Jenny,’ he murmured. ‘I miss you. I miss this.’

  ‘Miss what?’ I said and tried to pull my arm away but he held fast.

  ‘Just us. Sitting in comfortable silence.’

  I shrugged. ‘But like you once said – maybe it’s because we never actually had much to talk about.’

  He sat up. ‘True. We didn’t have a lot in common.’ He let go and ran a finger up my forearm. ‘But we both thrived off the most important thing, didn’t we? The sex was amazing.’ His voice had become husky. ‘I think about the way you used to wrap your legs around my waist and –’

  My heart raced. Images of our bodies entwined filled my mind. But only for the briefest of seconds. In that moment – when I could have lapped up his affection again – I realised, once and for all that sex wasn’t enough. I wanted – needed – something more.

  ‘Stop! Really, Zak. Things have changed.’

  His face lost its light for a moment and flushed dark. ‘I knew it – there’s someone else.’

  No. Or rather, perhaps. Maybe Noah. But it really wasn’t so much a case of someone but something else – a more meaningful life. Not that I owed Zak the truth.

  ‘So what if there was? It would be nothing to do with you. What’s the matter? Hasn’t Chanelle turned out to be the woman of your dreams?’