by Lacey London
Maybe I have changed since moving to Spring Oak, but we all have to grow up eventually. Let’s face it, real life isn’t about cocktails, designer clothing and hot barmen. Only Lianna doesn’t understand that, because that is exactly what her life is and my life was too before I met Oliver and settled down. Come to think of it, that is probably why she is so fond of Eve. The only thing that Eve has ever had to take responsibility for is her pack of Pomeranians. Tapping my nails on the table, I take a sip of my drink and dig out my phone. I’m not sitting here alone any longer. I came out for drinks with a friend and that is exactly what I am going to do…
*
An hour and another glass of wine later, a familiar head pops itself into the bar. I can see from the way that Gwen is holding herself that she is far from impressed with the venue. Wrapping her shawl tightly around
her, she screws up her nose as she makes her way over to me.
‘Thank you so much for coming.’ I smile gratefully at Gwen as she wipes the seat before sliding in besides me. ‘What can I get you to drink?’
Picking up the drinks menu gingerly, she eventually settles on a G&T. Not wanting to keep her waiting, I dash over to the bar and tell the barman to add it to my tab. Returning with two glasses, I start filling Gwen in on my row with Lianna. Once I start rambling I can’t seem to stop and feelings that I didn’t even know that I had come rolling off my drunken tongue. By the time that I have finished, Gwen is staring at me intently.
‘Clara, do you have any idea how many friends I lost when I had the twins?’ She runs a hand though her perfectly curled hair and laughs. ‘Hundreds!’
‘Hundreds?’ I reply, blowing my nose on a napkin.
‘Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but I lost a lot of friends. When you become a parent you change completely and no matter what you do or how hard you try to fight it you will never be the person that you were before.’
I take a sip of wine and attempt to blow my nose on the corner of my napkin.
‘If Lianna was a real friend to you she would understand that you have different responsibilities now. Your priorities have changed.’ She pauses for a moment before leaning in closer. ‘Haven’t you been there for her in the past? Hasn’t there been times when she has needed you to be supportive?’
I let out a sad laugh as I recall the many times that I have picked Lianna up from the floor. I was the one who put the pieces back together after her countless messy breakups. I was the one who encouraged her to start her own business and I was the one who always held her hair back when she vomited post Rioja session. I genuinely cannot think of a time when I feel like I have let her down. This is the only time in the history of our friendship that I have needed her and she has massively disappointed me. Gwen is right, our lives are going in totally different directions. A lump forms in my throat as I fiddle with the stem of my glass.
‘Clara, what you have to realise is that many people will come into your life, but not all of them are destined to stay. Some are merely passing through and whether we like it or not, we have to let them go.’ Gwen purses her lips and looks at me knowingly.
I nod my head in response and lean back in my seat. This is all down to Eve. Before I introduced them, Lianna was fantastic. She decorated the nursery, helped me pick out a name, she even attended the antenatal appointments alongside Oliver. This isn’t the Lianna that I know and love. Picking up my glass and downing the contents, I wipe away my tears. Well, if Eve wants Lianna, she can have her. She might be enjoying Lianna at her best, but I guarantee she won’t be able to handle her at her worst. I have known Lianna long enough to know that she can’t go longer than a few months without a full blown meltdown. My phone flashes up Oliver’s name and I feel my heart swell.
Eve and Lianna can have their narcissistic, self-absorbed, materialistic lifestyle. For I can safely say that I never want to be part of that world again. I have a new world now. One that revolves around my husband, my son and friends that understand me and the person that I have become. I guess Gwen is right. People and situations that no longer fit your life will gradually fall away from you and there isn’t any point in fighting it…
Yes, I have changed.
I have changed into the person that I was destined to be…
Chapter 18
Peeling open my eyes the following morning, the first thing that hits me is the fact that my head is throbbing. I might have only had a few drinks last night, but I feel well and truly hungover. It’s safe to say that my alcohol tolerance level is not what it used to be. The second thing I notice is that Noah isn’t in his Moses basket. Now, you are probably wondering why the sight of an empty Moses basket doesn’t paralyse me with fear. The truth is, this isn’t the first time I have been up today. A couple of hours ago when Oliver left for work, he informed me that Janie would see to Noah this morning so that I could have a lie in. Yes, what a lovely man I married. The clock on the bedside cabinet informs me that it is almost 8.00am. Believe it or not, this is the longest that I have slept in since Noah was born.
As I throw back the covers an overwhelming sensation of nausea rushes over me. For a moment there I had forgotten all about last night’s frantically awful string of events. Lianna’s stinging words whirl around my mind as I push myself to my feet and pad into the bathroom. Splashing water onto my face, I shove a toothbrush into my mouth and wander over to my wardrobe, taking extra care not to spill toothpaste on the carpet like I did last time. A good ten minutes later, I have tugged on some leggings along with an old jumper and twisted my hair up into a ballerina bun. After popping some painkillers, I slip on my slippers and make my way down the stairs. Pausing on the last step, I fix a smile on my face before padding into the kitchen. The last thing I want is for Janie to think that I have a raging hangover.
‘Good morning!’ I say brightly, flashing her what I hope is a cheery smile.
Snuggling on the couch with her feet on the coffee table, she looks up from her magazine and curls her lip. ‘Well, look who it is, Noah. Sleeping freaking beauty!’
Laughing sarcastically, I plant a kiss on Noah’s head before reaching for the coffee maker. Not wanting to dwell on last night, I decide that today I will keep myself busy. I really don’t think my delicate stomach can take a day of anxiety induced worrying.
‘Do you have any plans for today?’ I ask Janie, trying to act nonchalant.
‘Actually we do.’ Putting down her mug, she adjusts the straps on her leopard print night dress and yawns. ‘Randy left at dawn to go to the golf club. The silver fox next door is taking us on a tour.’ Janie’s eyes glint wickedly as my stomach does flips.
I smile thinly in response and grab my favourite mug from the cabinet. Great. This is all I need. My plans to cut Eve out of my life aren’t going to work if my in-laws are cavorting around the golf course with her husband. Mentally kicking myself for not telling Oliver about Eve’s past before, I promise that I will bring him up to date the second that he arrives home. A part of me doesn’t want to tell Oliver. It doesn’t want to tell anyone, because once people know I can’t take it back. We have created such a fabulous life here in Spring Oak and I don’t want anything to tarnish it. Let’s face it, how could we possibly be happy here if we hate the neighbours. Imagine waking up every day and dreading bumping into the people that you share a fence with.
Jabbing at the coffee maker, I shake my head in a bid to free myself from these thoughts. Why do I always crumble at the first signs of a possible confrontation? No, this time I am sticking to my guns. So what if we don’t get along with our neighbours? It’s hardly the worst thing in the world and it certainly isn’t without reason. I can see it now –
‘Clara, tell me again why you don’t speak to your neighbours?’
‘Well the pretty blonde lady is a home wrecking whore who stole my best friend and then lied to me.’
Sounds like a pretty good reason to hate someone if you ask me. Confident in my decision, I take my mug and grab the t
elevision remote. With Janie and Randy preoccupied for the day it gives me the perfect opportunity to clear my mind. Out with the old Clara and in with the new. I need to focus on what is really important to me and put all my energy into it. Like the great Mark Twain once said, the two most important days in your life are the day that you were born and the day that you find out why. I glance over to where Noah is sleeping and smile happily. This is the problem with Lianna, she hasn’t had that dawning realisation yet. That thudding reality of your whole world becoming complete and unfortunately, I can’t wait around until it does…
*
By the time that Oliver returns home that evening the house is practically gleaming. From polishing the bathroom tiles to pulling on a pair of marigolds and scrubbing the oven, I literally haven’t stopped all day. The main reason for my sudden need to clean, is that whenever I stop I think about Lianna and that fills me with a sadness that I can’t bear. Swapping my dirt covered leggings for a fresh pair of joggers, I settle down on the bed to feed Noah. Thankfully he has now mastered breastfeeding and snuggling down for some bonding time with my baby has become the best part of the day. Leaning back on the bed, I rest my head on the pillow and look out over the gardens. The sun is setting in the sky, creating a beautiful shadow across the old Oak tree that stands proudly on the green lawn.
My eyes start to feel heavy as Noah settles into his feed. Smiling down at him, I am disturbed by the distinct sound of footsteps on the stairs. I can tell without even looking that the footsteps belong to Oliver. Neither Janie nor Randy have legs long enough to take the stairs two at a time.
Looking up, I smile in acknowledgement as Oliver collapses onto the bed besides me.
‘Hi.’ I whisper, not wanting to disturb Noah as he starts to drift off. ‘Have you heard from your mum?’
He nods his head in response and entwines his fingers with mine. ‘Owen and Eve took them out for dinner. They won’t be back until late.’
For the millionth time today I feel my heart drop. Choosing to ignore it, I prise Noah away and place him into his cot before flopping down next to my husband.
‘I love you.’ I whisper, running a hand through his dark curls. ‘I love you so very much.’
He mumbles I love you too under his breath and pulls me closer towards him, stroking my hair gently. Curling up onto his chest, I allow my eyes to close and savour the moment. Since Noah was born it has been very hard to find the time to do nothing. I was always worried that when I became a mother I would lose the time to do my nails, have a haircut or keep on top of my social life. I never dreamt that the thing I would crave the most would be time to do absolutely nothing at all.
Enjoying the sensation of Oliver’s stomach rising and falling with each breath that he takes, I allow myself to relax. With last night’s argument with Lianna running through my mind, I have been on the verge of an emotional breakdown all day. One minute I feel angry at her, angrier than I have ever been. I want to scream at her, shout at the top of my lungs and ask her why she is treating me this way. Only thirty minutes later, I flip the other way and feel like I’m going to crumble in a big blubbering mess. Forget childbirth and spinning classes, the emotional aftermath of a fallout is more traumatic than both of those combined. I literally feel like someone has died. Like I am mourning the death of a family member. A lump forms in the back and of my throat and I will myself not to cry.
Looking up at Oliver, I feel my stomach drop as he smiles down at me lazily. How does he just keep getting better with age? He has started to get a few grey hairs lately, but somehow they just make him more attractive. They are few and far between and he swears that they are highlights from the sun, but I’m not so sure. Suddenly having the urge to spend some time with my husband, I push myself up onto my elbows and brush his hair out of his face.
‘Why don’t we have a romantic dinner tomorrow evening? Just me and you, like old times.’ I plant a kiss on his nose as he nods his head in response.
‘That sounds great.’ He mumbles. ‘Although you might wanna put out enough for four.’
‘Don’t worry about your parents, I will kick them out.’
‘Not my parents, I invited Owen and Eve over.’
‘Why?’ I fire back, suddenly wide awake. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘They have gone to the trouble of taking my parents out for a meal, the least we can do is return the favour.’
‘No!’ I yell so loud that Noah stirs in his cot. ‘I don’t want them to come here.’
Oliver rolls onto his side and looks at me like I have gone crazy. ‘Why not?’
I shrug my shoulders in response, unable to find a reason as to why I don’t want our neighbours over. Why can’t I just tell him the truth? All day I have been gearing myself up to reveal Eve’s shady secret, but now that the time has come to blurt it out I can’t seem to find the words.
‘What’s going on? You always want the Lakes to come over.’ Oliver tugs off his jumper and replaces it with a t-shirt. ‘Are you sick?’
Sensing that this conversation isn’t going to end well, I nod gently and rub my temples.
‘I thought as much.’ Lifting up my legs, he pulls the duvet up to my chin and smiles sympathetically. ‘You get some rest. Don’t worry about tomorrow, I’ll cancel. We can do it some other time.’
Flicking off the bedroom light, he pauses by the door before disappearing down the stairs. Feeling totally exhausted I roll over and bury my face into the pillow. My body aches for sleep, for escapism. Not having the energy to do anything else, I allow my eyes to close and feel my worries melt away into the darkness inside my head. Sometimes you just have to accept that the most productive thing a person can do is sleep…
Sleeping is beautiful.
It allows you to forget about all of life’s problems, even if it is just for a little while…
Chapter 19
As I push Noah’s pram along the busy street, I strategically keep a couple of steps behind my mother and Janie. My mum announced over breakfast that she wanted to take Janie and I out for lunch this afternoon. When I begrudgingly agreed to this, I wasn’t aware that by lunch she meant afternoon tea at the exclusive Churchwood. In case you don’t know, Churchwood is a rather up-scale restaurant on the prestigious King Street. Famed for its celebrity customers and extortionate prices, you can bet your bottom dollar that a camp of paparazzi will be waiting outside. Being a hard core celebrity addict, Janie looked so excited at the prospect of bumping into a soap star or three that I didn’t have the heart to say no.
As we approach the iconic glass doors Janie and my mother sashay inside, totally oblivious to the fact that I am struggling with the pram. You would think that one of the many members of staff who are watching me in horror would offer to give me a hand. Using my giant bum as a door stop I finally manage to squeeze inside. Smoothing down my hair, I ignore the disapproving glances of the ladies who lunch and manoeuvre Noah’s pram through the sea of tables. Janie shakes off her fluffy body warmer and takes a seat in an impossibly small chair. Positioning the pram next to my mother, I smile at the waitress and accept a menu. Frowning in response, she points to the pram like it has a contagious disease.
‘Could you possibly place that on the table behind you?’ She smiles thinly and pulls out a chair to make room for Noah’s pram.
Jumping out of my seat I move the pram to the adjacent table, apologising for knocking another customer’s jacket off her chair in the process. I wait for the waitress to thank me, but she simply hands us some napkins and disappears in a cloud of sickly sweet perfume. Pulling a funny face at her back as she leaves, I flip open my menu and scan the many choices. We have already informed her that we will be having the afternoon tea, so I don’t know why she has left us with menus. Looking around the room with hungry eyes, Janie takes out a compact mirror and applies another layer of lip liner to her already over lined lips. As I take in my surroundings, I realise that many other women are doing exactly the same thing. From the y
oung blonde things readjusting their cleavage to the elderly ladies checking their blue rinses and pearls, everyone in here is taking steps to make sure that they look their very best.
Glancing down at the spit up stain on my blouse, I am horrified to see that I am leaking. Literally, my boobs are leaking. Letting out a horrified gasp, I cross my arms over my chest and excuses myself to go the bathroom. My cheeks glow like hot lava as I make my way across the restaurant. This is more embarrassing than the time I vomited Pepto Bismol down myself in public. Pushing my way inside the toilets, I run over to the sink and hurriedly splash water on the stain. After a few failed attempts at contorting myself to get under the tap, I resort to whipping it off. Satisfied that I have done the best I can do, I attempt to dry it under the hand dryer. In nothing more than a bra and a pair of jeans, I frantically rub the top in a bid to dry it faster. Just as I am tugging the top back on, the bathroom door swings open. With my arms in the air and my head completely stuck, it takes me a moment of panicked wiggling to get myself straight.
‘Sorry!’ I laugh nervously as the pretty brunette heaves her Chanel handbag up onto her shoulder and frowns haughtily. ‘I don’t normally strip off in restaurant toilets!’
She raises her eyebrows and checks her perfect hair in the mirror. Feeling the urge to defend myself I carry on rambling, despite getting the distinct impression that she doesn’t want to look at me, never mind talk to me.
‘My boob leaked.’ I lean on the sink next to her and motion to the now slight mark on my top. My toilet friend looks at me in horror and takes a not so subtle step away.
‘Not in a gross way!’ I dig my phone out of my handbag and hold up a photo of Noah. ‘I’m breastfeeding. I have a baby.’
Choosing to totally ignore me, the snooty lady continues to top up her makeup before disappearing into a cubicle. Staring at the closed door in disbelief, I tell myself that she must be deaf and return to our table sheepishly. Noticing that the drinks have already arrived, I take a sip from the mug of tea that has appeared in my place.
