Falling in Love Again

by Sophie King

  Alison let Caroline’s words drone on. There was something at the back of her head. Something that that man Ed had said at the meeting. It was when he’d said that his lodger had got him to come along. That was it! His lodger!

  ‘How much would one pay for a room in a house, nowadays, do you think?’

  ‘A room? Come on Alison, you could do better than that. You should be able to afford a two-bedroom flat once you’ve split the house although granted, it might not be in such a desirable area.’

  ‘I mean how much could I charge if I rented out the children’s rooms?’

  ‘You can’t do that! Where would they go?’

  Alison was already climbing the stairs, the cordless cupped between her shoulder and ear, and wandering round first the spare room, then Ross’s and then Jules’s. ‘It’s not as though they come home much, is it? I’d keep Jules’s room of course for the holidays.’

  Onto their room. David’s wardrobe. Throwing the doors open, she yanked at each coat hanger, flinging it on the floor.

  ‘What’s that noise, Alison?’

  ‘I’m having a sort-out.’

  His suits. All of them. And that Pringle jumper she’d given him last Christmas. On the floor. Onto Oxfam.

  ‘Can’t you do that when we’re not on the phone? I hate it when you don’t listen.’

  When she didn’t listen?

  ‘I think renting a room to a stranger is a crazy idea. You don’t know who you could get.’ Her sister’s voice went quiet for a second. ‘You could come and live with me. I’d quite like the company. Alison? You still there. You seem to be breaking up - and I’m not just talking about the reception, darling.’

  Alison flung a rather nice blue and white striped Jermyn Street shirt onto the bed. How could she possibly live with her sharp-tongued sister? She’d always been glad she could give each one of her children their own room. She and Caroline had shared until Caroline had gone away to university and it was an experience which still haunted her. That awful lack of privacy! The fuss her sister had made when she, Alison, had wanted to read at night and Caroline had insisted on playing loud music.

  ‘That’s very kind,’ she said, flinging the pile of clothes over the stairs before returning to the kitchen. ‘But I think we’re both a bit too old for that, don’t you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  As if in agreement, Mungo made a snorting noise.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The dog.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’ Her sister giggled. ‘For a minute, I thought you’d brought this Brian home with you after all!’

  ‘No way.’

  That was odd. Mungo was making another strange noise from the corner of the room. A low gurgling at the back of his throat. And his eyes! The dark irises had sort of disappeared up the top of the whites. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong . . .

  ‘Caroline, I’ll ring you back.’

  Hands shaking, she desperately tried to remember the vet’s number. There it was. On the kitchen blackboard with everyone else’s number, including David’s mobile. No-one would be in at this time but there’d be an emergency number.

  Sitting next to Mungo – that weird, hollow, rasping sound was getting louder – she waited impatiently for someone to pick up. ‘Please. I need some help. My dog’s not well . . . ’

  12

  KAREN

  Karen frowned. ‘How many jigsaw puzzles was that again?’

  The woman sighed at the other end of the phone. Not surprising. Ever since Hayley had delivered her bombshell, Karen hadn’t been able to focus at work. For the first time in her life, she could hardly look at Adam, knowing they each had a secret to hide from the other. His was only a small one in her view. Redundancy was nothing compared with ending a life. A life which her son didn’t even know existed.

  Even holding the pebble didn’t help.

  ‘Forty three puzzles,’ the woman repeated. ‘1000 pieces each except that one has got 986 and another, 974.’

  What kind of lives did these people live? Who in heaven’s name, had the time to sit down and count out the number of pieces in a puzzle that would only fetch a fiver or so and would be better off down at the charity shop. How would a puzzle-counting woman like this cope with the kind of problems that she and her group were facing?

  ‘They’re pretty.’ The woman’s tone was defensive as though she could hear Karen’s thoughts. ‘And there’s a roll up mat so you can move the puzzles around.’

  Puzzles! Everything in Karen’s life had suddenly become a puzzle all over again. Just after she’d taken such care to get it straight. She felt so muddled about everything now and that business over Ed hadn’t helped. Her mind shot back to the coffee she’d had with him and that tall, leggy blonde who had swept by in her sports car to scoop him up afterwards. She only hoped he was going to turn up at tonight’s meeting after her warning not to jump into another relationship too fast.

  The meeting! That reminded her. She couldn’t be late.

  ‘Right.’ Her fingers flew across the keyboard. ‘Got it now. Forty three puzzles. 1000 pieces each. Two incomplete (slightly). Phone number?’

  ‘Best give you my mobile. I don’t often get to my landline in time.’

  Karen tried not to groan with frustration. She didn’t have time right now for a chat.

  ‘My daughter’s not right, see. Thirty two she is. It’s not easy getting her in and out of the wheelchair any more. But she can do jigsaws! My, how she can do jigsaws. That’s what I keep saying to the doctors. I mean, if she can do 1000 piece jigsaws like that in less than a day, she’s got to have more up there than they’re giving her credit for. What do you think?’

  Karen walked home that night, in need of air even though it was nippy. The woman with the disabled daughter had thrown her. As had Hayley and Adam. She’d always thought they were a perfect couple. But a wife (she saw them as married even if they weren’t) who kept a secret from her husband, choosing instead to share it with her mother-in-law? That wasn’t good.

  ‘Hi, Mum. How was your day?’

  Adam was already in the kitchen making tea. He did that sometimes, using the spare key he still kept after moving out to Hayley’s parents’ house. ‘Earl Grey or builder’s?’

  ‘Builder’s please.’

  Don’t say anything she told herself. Let him tell you.

  ‘Don’t you want to know why I’m not at work?’

  Her heart fluttered. At last! He was going to tell her about his redundancy!

  ‘It’s because I’ve got a new job! Fantastic, isn’t it? I’ve just been for the interview and they told me straight away.’ His face shone. ‘The money’s almost twice as much. Maybe now we can get a place of our own or have another baby.’

  Karen felt physically sick. ‘What does Hayley say?’

  Adam handed her a slightly chipped Best Grandma in the World mug. ‘Haven’t told her yet. She had to go to the doctor this afternoon. Nothing serious. Just a tummy pain she’s been having.’

  Maybe, Karen told herself as she cuddled Josh on her knee in front of children’s television, Hayley’s ‘tummy pains’ were nothing to do with It. Perhaps she’d changed her mind. Maybe . . .

  ‘Here she is!’ Adam’s face was pink with excitement as he leaped up to greet his wife. ‘Hayley! You’ll never guess what’s happened.’

  One look at Hayley’s ashen face told Karen all she needed to know. Those scared hazel eyes which said – just for a second – that it was all over now and whatever you do, don’t ask me about it or tell Adam.

  ‘What?’ Hayley sank down onto the sofa next to her, reaching out for her son. To Karen's embarrassment, Josh remained firmly in her lap. ‘Want Gran-nan.’

  ‘Please yourself.’ Hayley leaned back, closing her eyes. ’What are you trying to tell me, Adam?’

  ‘I’ve got another job! And the money’s fantastic! We could have another . . .’

  Karen couldn’t just stand by and listen to this
. ‘She’s not well, Adam. Look.’

  In a second, he was by her side. ‘Sorry, love. I wasn’t thinking. What did the doctor say?’

  ‘Something about the time of the month.’ Hayley still had her eyes closed. She could remember that, thought Karen. Remember the time when it was easier to close your eyes.

  Karen reached out for her hand. ‘Bit heavy is it, love?’

  Hayley opened her eyes, shooting her a grateful look. ‘It is rather. In fact, I think I’ll go to bed if you don’t mind.’

  Adam hadn’t understood of course. Men didn’t, in her experience. Periods were something you didn’t talk about even if they were actually secret abortions.

  ‘She didn’t congratulate me,’ he said, when they had finished off a bottle of something fizzy between them – something she really shouldn’t have done what with the meeting that night. But goodness, had she needed it!

  ‘Hayley’s not well, love.’

  ‘You don’t understand.’ He hesitated. ‘I was made redundant, Mum. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. But it really upset us especially as we wanted to try for another baby. And now I’ve got a really great job. I thought she’d be pleased.’

  ‘She will be. Give her time.’

  But now, as Karen made her way to the Memorial Hall – better hurry or she’d be late! – she wasn’t so sure. Before leaving, she’d looked in on Hayley in Adam’s old room with his posters still on the wall. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’ was all she’d said and Karen had shaken her head quietly.

  But it didn’t feel right, telling lies. Not right at all.

  ‘Hello?’ A tall, rather gawky man in his late fifties with rimmed spectacles was hovering by the gate. A purple aura over his head, which indicated he was in need of healing. ‘Is this the right place for the Divorce group?’

  ‘It is but . . .’

  ‘Thank goodness for that. I kept ringing the number in the paper but it was the wrong one – did you know that? – so then I rang the classified ads section and they told me where it was being held at and at what time. But I couldn’t make the first meeting because I was in the States on business and so I thought, well, I’ll just come along to the next. Hugh’s the name by the way. Hugh Gregory.’

  All this was said in one long breath without so much as a flutter of a pause so Karen was unable to chip in. But now he’d stopped, her immediate reaction – which was to have said that it was too late to join the course – changed. To say he looked desperate, wouldn’t have been overdoing it. Despite his well-spoken voice, there was something raw in his eyes which screamed out shopping for one in Tesco and lonely nights in front of a dull DVD.

  ‘Of course you can join,’ she said kindly. ‘And don’t feel too nervous. We’re a friendly lot. Tonight’s meeting is called Moving On. Why don’t you come on in?’

  13

  ED

  ‘Night, Ed!’

  ‘Night, Ed!’

  ‘NIGHT, Ed.’

  ‘See you, Ed.’

  Sometimes, thought Ed, as he strode down the corridor, passing his staff who were still beavering at their desks in the hope, probably, of impressing their boss, he wondered what life would have been like if Dad hadn’t left him the business.

  Funny, really. Most property developers had had it bad during the crash but his old man had been a canny bugger. (His dad’s choice of phrase and one which the old man had frequently used, even during one of the garden parties, much to Nancy’s acute embarrassment.)

  Consequently, when Dad had rather suddenly popped his clogs – much to the distress of Nancy who had really loved him – Ed had found himself in possession of a tidy sum of money; the freehold on a smart two-bedroom town house at the end of the Chiltern line (good for London and cycle rides in Wendover Woods) and the moral agreement (made years ago with Dad) to look after his various step-siblings as the eldest in line. Not to mention keeping an eye on his glamorous stepmother.

  ‘Leaving early then, Ed?’

  The rather pretty auburn temp whose name he couldn’t quite recall but who was so much more efficient than her predecessor now on maternity leave (Yes! Yes!), looked up from the desk. Unlike his father, who had terrified his staff, Ed insisted his team called him by his first name but given that the girl had only been there a few days, she did seem a bit familiar!

  ‘That’s the joy of being the boss,’ he gently reminded her.

  She nodded as though he’d rebuked her. Bloody heck, it was difficult trying to straddle the divide between being an accessible boss and He Who Is In Charge.

  ‘Course it is.’ Her eyes flickered down to his left hand where there was still a slim, white band of flesh showing. ‘Have a nice evening.’

  She probably thought he was taking someone out to dinner, he reflected, nipping through the rotating doors to where Charlie would be waiting. Someone tall and glamorous like Tatiana had been. Someone bright and sparkly like Bella who had only admitted she didn’t want children after the wedding and then claimed to have post-nuptial depression. Someone funny and clever like Anita – but with a kid from a first marriage who actually liked him. If only you could just roll them up and put them all together.

  He’d once said as much to Clive, his tenant. ‘Great idea,’ he’d drawled. ‘You ought to be in the cloning business.’

  That reminded him. It was time – well past the month actually – when he was meant to put Clive’s rent up. Even Clive had told him he was paying too little. But somehow it didn’t seem right; not when someone was struggling to survive on a librarian’s wage for heaven’s sake.

  Clive had been one of Nancy’s many bright ideas. ‘There’s this man I know, whose life has changed,’ she’d said mysteriously. ‘He’s moved down here from the north and needs somewhere to rent for a bit. You’re rattling round in that place on your own. Couldn’t you help out?’

  A man she knew? He chose not to probe further but suspected Nancy had made the suggestion more for his benefit than Clive’s. A two-bedroom town house was hardly big enough to rattle around in. Besides, he liked his own company. Liked being able to go to bed at gone 3am and play loud music and come into work late because you could do that sort of thing when you’re the boss.

  ‘But it’s not what your dad would have done, is it?’ Nancy had gently reminded him.

  And so he had taken on this wiry, rather clever northerner with a dry sense of humour, and found that although it often irritated him to have someone else in the house, it was also rather nice at other times to have a beer in the kitchen or suggest they get a takeaway (Clive always insisted on going halves) and then talk to him about Tatiana. Except that even poor old Clive had clearly had enough of him now because that’s when he had come back with the ‘How To Survive Divorce’ leaflet from the library, pointing out that it might be better for his landlord to talk to people who were in the same boat.

  ‘Hi, Ed.’

  Charlie was waiting in the Porsche which had been the pride of his life ever since Dad had given it to him for his 30th. He could – should have, maybe – traded it in for a new model but as Nancy said, it had sentimental value now his dad had died.

  Ed slipped into the front seat, still feeling slightly embarrassed at the need to have a driver. It looked so . . . well, so flamboyant. ‘Charlie, I’m not going straight home. I need to go somewhere else first.’

  Charlie nodded. ‘That place I dropped you off at last time? About a month ago? Just outside Amersham?’

  How did he know?

  ‘Thought it was time for the next meeting.’ Charlie winked at him. ‘Put it on my Blackberry I did, just in case you forgot.’

  He thought as much. ‘Nancy’s been talking to you, hasn’t she?’

  ‘She’s got your interests at heart, Ed. Anything that helps you get through this stuff, can’t be bad.’

  He handed Ed a big Mac; the type he liked with the double cheese slice. ‘Thought you might need this.’

  Ed bit into it hungrily. ‘Tha
nks.’

  ‘You ought to try that internet dating lark. Our Jan did it and got some right crackers, she did.’ Charlie drew to a halt at the traffic lights. ‘Still, you’d need to keep all this quiet, wouldn’t you?’

  No need to ask what ‘all this’ was. The one problem with being single and wealthy, thought Ed as he got out of the car, was that you never knew if someone wanted you for the right reasons.

  ‘Ten o’clock round the corner like last time?’ asked Charlie.

  Ed glanced around to check no one was looking. ‘Thanks.’ He looked down at the tissue Charlie was handing him. ‘You don’t need to blow my nose as well, you know.’

  Charlie grinned. ‘Just thought you might want to wipe that ketchup off your face.’

  Karen wanted them to list five good things about being without your partner. Hah! He could think of more than five. Like being able to use the bathroom before lunchtime. Not sharing Tatiana’s microbiotic diet. And not having to put up with her moods . . .

  Bloody hell, this chair was uncomfortable! Who did it belong to? A midget Brownie? He’d give this group one more chance and then he could tell Nancy that he’d tried it and it wasn’t for him. So far, the meeting had been dominated by the woman in purple reeking with ‘Charlie’ (Bella’s scent) who had wittered on and on about some chap called Henry who had been allergic to her dogs. If he’d been Henry, he’d have been allergic to Violet.

  And then there was the rather pretty blonde – Lizzie – who said she thought she’d done something she shouldn’t have when she’d had too much to drink but couldn’t say what. Of course it was obvious! She’d gone and slept with another bloke, hadn’t she?

  ‘It’s perfectly understandable,’ he said during the discussion, despite Karen’s disapproving glare in his direction. ‘You want to check you’re attractive, don’t you?’

  And now, another woman – Alison who seemed to have ditched the blue eyeshadow, thank God – was saying her children had been horrible to her even though she was the one who hadn’t done anything wrong. Karen had said something about kids being nasty when they were really scared and then this Alison had said she wanted to leave early because her dog wasn’t well, which made him wonder if he could make up a dog too.