Just Another Day

by Patricia Fawcett

  ‘No need. He didn’t believe you anyway.’

  ‘Good.’ She tugged at her hair. ‘Look at me. I haven’t washed my hair for two days. I dared not stop for a cup of tea on the way because I look such a fright.’

  It was so Selina.

  ‘You look awful,’ Francesca confirmed with some satisfaction.

  ‘I look my age,’ she said. ‘And I’m going to do something about it. I’m having some work done to my face. I’m told it hurts like hell so I’m bracing myself. It will give my skin a glow. It’s costing, darling, so I hope it will be worth it. Don’t tell Clive.’

  ‘Won’t he notice?’

  ‘By the time he gets back the bruising will be easing and I can always say I walked into a door or fell over one of the blasted cats. He won’t notice anyway. Men never do. It’s my women friends who will notice which beggars the question who am I doing this for?’

  ‘Yourself?’

  So maybe the dash home was not entirely for her benefit, not if she had a pre-booked clinic appointment.

  ‘Are we still friends?’

  ‘Oh Selina … Can I be honest?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You are right about one thing. I rushed into it and I was having doubts. I don’t believe I would have ever settled up in Yorkshire and spending the rest of my life just being Mrs David Porter would have driven me mad sooner rather than later. I married him because he wouldn’t take no for an answer, but that doesn’t stop me missing him.’

  ‘I know. And I am so sorry. Will you ever forgive me? Can I stay tonight? Please don’t send me off looking for somewhere to stay looking like I do.’

  ‘Yes, you can stay. And go and wash your hair for goodness sake. What are you wearing?’ she added, taking stock of the outfit for the first time

  ‘Hideous, isn’t it? I couldn’t be arsed when I got home to put things together properly. I just threw an overnight into the car and drove like the wind. I was desperate to get here. Am I forgiven? Or do I have to prostrate myself at your feet because I will if you want me to?’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘What about you and Gareth then?’ A twinkle returned to her eyes. ‘You never told me he was such a hunk.’

  ‘Hardly.’ She knew she was blushing. ‘That isn’t important anyway. He’s very nice. He could have kept all that to himself but he told me because he thought I ought to know. Incidentally …’ a thought struck her. ‘How did you know that he had told me?’

  ‘He doesn’t look the sort who can keep a secret and you hadn’t phoned for a while, the silence was deafening, so I figured that he must have told you. Clive had one of his business cards so I called him just to confirm it. He told me not to come here under any circumstances.’ She laughed. ‘He was very forceful. I love that in a man. I could fall for him myself if I wasn’t so blissfully happily married,’ she said, sarcasm at full stretch.

  They had both loved David and who knows maybe Selina had loved him most of all.

  She would forgive Selina because David would want her to.

  And also, she had to show herself that she was not like her mother who had never, not even at the very last, forgiven her.

  As he lay dying, even as words finally deserted him, her father had motioned her to come close and somehow drummed up the energy to ask her to forgive him.

  And she had.

  Now all that remained was for James to forgive her.

  Chapter Twenty

  ALAN WAS NOTHING like the man she had imagined him to be.

  She had expected a quiet man, a perfect foil for his wife not a short heavily built man every bit as chatty and effervescent as Izzy and it made for a noisy and happily chaotic relationship.

  ‘So you couldn’t resist moving back to Devon?’ he asked when he met her in the hall of Gareth’s cottage, having greeted her with a bear hug. ‘Good for you. There’s no place like home, eh? Sorry to hear about your husband. Izzy told me. Bad luck.’

  ‘Sorry about the mess.’ Izzy pulled a face, looking harassed as she tidied things away. ‘Don’t tell Gareth what a pickle it’s in. I promise I’ll give it a good clean before we leave. This is what it’s like when you have kids, Francesca.’ She spun round as little Mabel hugged her leg, whipping the child up into her arms and laughing at her as she gave her a big kiss. ‘Say hello to Auntie Francesca, Sweetheart.’

  ‘That’s too complicated for her,’ Alan said as Mabel stuck her thumb in her mouth before looking at her with great suspicion. ‘Do you get called Fran?

  ‘Never.’ Izzy answered for her. ‘Everybody calls her Francesca. Come on, let’s get going or we’ll never get there.’

  ‘Can I help?’ Francesca stood helplessly by as Izzy started to hand things out to all and sundry, including Mabel who was in charge of her bucket and spade.

  ‘Absolutely. Take this,’ Izzy said, handing her a huge picnic bag.

  ‘Wagons roll. Let’s go, ladies.’ Alan announced with a big grin and they set off, Alan leading the way and she and Izzy bringing up the rear.

  Gareth had recommended visiting a nearby beach which was particularly recommended for children with a safe shallow stretch of water and some rock pools; the only problem being it was tricky to get to as it was down a lot of steps. Even though Izzy had apparently invited him, Gareth did not join them, deciding wisely that they had a lot of catching up to do and he would just get in the way.

  ‘What a considerate man. I should hold onto him if I were you,’ Izzy said with a smile.

  ‘He’s not mine to hold onto,’ Francesca whispered, needing to make things clear.

  ‘Isn’t he?’ The smile widened. ‘Haven’t you noticed the way he looks at you? Alan used to look at me like that. He still does sometimes although we don’t have much time these days for romantic get-togethers. I long for the days when there are just the two of us again,’ Izzy said as they strolled along, Vicky in front of them with Sarah and Jane and Alan forging ahead carrying Mabel aloft. ‘That was before we were married of course. I was already pregnant when I got married so we didn’t have long to wait before there were three of us. Then four, five and now six.’

  ‘You’re so lucky, Izzy, to have a man like Alan.’

  ‘I know. Now that we’ve met up again, you and me, now that you’re going to be living fairly close to us, we really must keep in touch. No more excuses,’ Izzy said. ‘By the way, Vicky thinks you’re very cool.’

  ‘Does she? I can’t think why.’

  ‘You had a fabulous job in London in advertising, that’s why. She thinks that sounds really glamorous. I’m her mum and I haven’t done anything remotely interesting so obviously I’m very un-cool.’

  ‘It wasn’t glamorous at all, just hard work although I have to say I did get a buzz out of it.’

  ‘Do you miss that? The buzz?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Trust Izzy to come up with that, to make her realize what was missing these days in her life. It was the buzz, the excitement, the nervous anticipation, the thrill when it went right, the agony when it didn’t.

  That was what she needed in her life. Izzy was happy with her lot, but she needed something completely different.

  They stopped chatting as they reached the top of the steps where some care had to be taken particularly with Mabel and Jane. At the bottom of the steps the sand was soft and ankle deep and they struggled through it to set up camp on firmer ground. Then followed all the usual fuss associated with a large family. Windbreak, chairs, assorted bags and no sooner had they settled having marked out their territory then Izzy was up again, changing Mabel into her swimsuit so that she could play in the nearby rock pool and then, minutes later, she was delving into the picnic bag for sandwiches.

  ‘Can’t you sit still for a minute? We’ve only just got here,’ Francesca said, chastising her gently.

  ‘I know but I’ve been up since six o’clock. I’m starving,’ Izzy said, biting into a thickly filled sandwich. ‘Want one? Help yourself. There�
��s enough to feed an army.’

  Francesca shook her head and began the serious job of applying sun-cream. Izzy started on a hefty paperback and Francesca lay down and relaxed for a while, enjoying the gentle warmth of the sun, until she was woken from her reverie by some serious rustling beside her.

  ‘I don’t know if I dare be seen in this bikini,’ Izzy whispered. ‘I’ve gone up a dress size since I bought it. I tried it on the other day and it is nothing short of horrific. Alan says I look great, but he wouldn’t dare say anything else.’

  ‘You look just fine,’ Francesca reassured her, catching a glimpse of a lot of flesh as, with the finesse of a magician, Izzy cast aside her cover-up.

  ‘Not as fine as you. But then, you haven’t had any kids, Francesca, and boy does it show.’

  Just for a minute, there was in the voice a touch of the old Izzy who had not been averse to the odd sly remark. Francesca glanced at her sharply before deciding that nothing malicious had been intended.

  They settled down to some serious sun worshipping.

  Alan and the girls had gone off to the little beach shop at the very end of the beach, a Sahara-like trek with little Mabel gallantly sifting her way through the deep sand. Feeling the waves of silent sympathy coming her way, Francesca at last took the opportunity to talk about David and Izzy let her do it, keeping quiet and allowing her to get it off her chest.

  ‘He sounds quite a man,’ Izzy said after a while. ‘He wouldn’t have been easy I can tell that, but it would have worked out if the two of you loved each other.’

  ‘Would it?’

  ‘Of course it would. Don’t you think that I haven’t had doubts over the years? Everybody does sometime or other. I often wish I’d married somebody with money for one thing or somebody with a bit of a romantic streak in them. Alan always forgets my birthday and our anniversary and at first I was fighting mad about it, but now I know he doesn’t mean anything and Vicky’s been reminding him for the last few years. It’s a woman’s thing, isn’t it, remembering dates? It’s our bodies I suppose. We have to work to a monthly schedule.’

  ‘David was good with dates,’ Francesca said. ‘Although I think his assistant jogged his memory. He sent me a beautiful bouquet of flowers every Friday.’

  ‘Why Friday?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘That would have irritated me after a while. I like a bit of spontaneity. Flowers every Friday means he’s just put an order into the florists. He’s not really thinking about it. Sorry.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Francesca thought about Gareth and the bunch of flowers bought on impulse from the market.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as if I was criticizing him. Do you miss him?’ she asked at last. ‘Sorry again, that’s a daft question. Of course you do.’

  ‘But I have to move on. Other people do.’

  ‘Of course you must and don’t feel guilty about doing that,’ Izzy told her. ‘From what you say he loved you and he would want you to be happy again. What about Gareth?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Just that he seems a nice man. That’s all.’

  ‘He is. He’s asked me out for dinner.’

  ‘I hope you said yes?’

  She nodded. ‘But now I’m wondering if I did the right thing. I’ve only been a widow a few months.’

  ‘So what? You mustn’t let the opportunity pass you by. Don’t let this guilt get to you as well.’

  ‘As well as what?’

  ‘You know what I’m talking about, the guilt you feel, the guilt we all feel about what happened to James. And you must not think for a minute that your mother did not know the truth. She never believed me.’

  ‘Didn’t she? We never talked about it. I once tried, but she didn’t want to know the details. There was no point, she said. It was done and it couldn’t be undone.’

  ‘There you are then. Mothers know everything. In the end it didn’t matter, did it? It didn’t matter whose idea it was to go down to the river in the first place. It didn’t matter which of us wasn’t watching him. And it didn’t matter either who got him out of the water, which one of us got him to breathe again because we were in it together, the two of us.’

  ‘I try to see it from her point of view. Now that you’re a mother yourself, Izzy, how would you deal with it? What would you do if for example if Vicky let Mabel drown?

  ‘I don’t know but I hope I wouldn’t blame her for it if it was an accident.’ She shuddered. ‘I can’t bear to think of it. Didn’t I persuade you to go down to the river that day? I fancied bathing topless if I remember which you went all huffy about. So, if you’re looking for somebody to blame it might as well be me. You can pass the guilt over if it helps.’

  ‘No. I have to carry the can.’

  ‘Things happen and you can’t turn the clock back. We saved him anyway, between us.’

  ‘You saved him. But as you said what was the point? So that he could spend the rest of his life damaged both mentally and physically?’

  ‘We didn’t know that. We had to try. How would we feel if we’d just walked away and left him?’

  ‘We couldn’t do that.’

  ‘No. So we did what we thought was right at the time. Shake it off, Francesca.’ She sat up in a flurry, shoulders already looking a bit red. ‘What the hell are we doing dissecting all this again? Let’s put it behind us. I’m not having you visiting me, Francesca Blackwell, if we’re always going to be talking about it. Let’s forget it. I’m going to find you a nice new man if it’s the last thing I do. Maybe not Gareth but somebody like him. And, if you do get married again, I’m expecting an invitation to the wedding this time.’

  ‘You didn’t invite me to your wedding,’ Francesca reminded her and they shared a smile keen to lighten the mood.

  ‘It was a low-key affair. I was huge with Victoria.’ She reached for the sun-cream, peering into the distance, her face lighting up. ‘Oh there they are. Where the hell have they been? Do you think they need a hand? Alan looks like he’s bought the entire shop.’

  ‘I’ll go.’ Francesca rose, dusted off the sand, slipping her cover-up on over her one-piece swimsuit. ‘You wait here.’

  She set off to meet Alan. She had enjoyed the day, but she would have to get herself home soon although she would be back on Friday afternoon for her dinner date with Gareth.

  The floral sheaf knee-length dress was one that Selina had nudged her into buying; it was a touch retro and city chic, even if it did resemble a pair of Pamela’s curtains, but its very exuberance did have the effect of drawing attention away from her flushed face. With it, she wore high-heeled silver sandals and as she fastened the clasp on her necklace, one of David’s expensive gifts, Francesca felt light hearted and even a little light headed. She put it down to too much sun over the last few days.

  Tonight would be her first proper date since David and it felt odd in an excited teenage first-date way. Gareth was taking her to a swanky hotel nearby, a large Victorian hotel perched on the cliff edge with enviable views of a long stretch of sand and the sort of rolling sea that made it popular with surfers. He had booked a table on the veranda so that they might watch the sun setting. He had also arranged that she stay overnight with Izzy at the cottage to save her the bother of driving home. It also meant that with a taxi ferrying them back and forth, they could enjoy a drink or two.

  ‘I’m not sure how you will take this, but you can stay with me at the caravan if you want,’ he told her on the way there. ‘You are very welcome. You can have the double in the bedroom and I’ll bunk down on the pull-out in the lounge. Either that or you can stay at the cottage and share a room with Mabel. Your choice.’

  Did she detect an amused tone? Why the hell didn’t he come right out with it and ask her to sleep with him?

  She was non-committal, more than a little mortified that he should need to make the sleeping arrangements this evening quite so crystal clear. They were grown-ups, they were attracted to each other and the
re was no point in denying that and neither of them had had sex for a while. At least she could only speak for herself on that one, but Gareth had not mentioned anybody else. So, opting for the too cosy caravan setting seemed a completely barmy idea because if the dining experience was anything like he was promising – delicious food, wine and a beautiful sunset – there was only one possible outcome.

  Francesca felt sure of one thing. Izzy would be extremely disappointed if she turned up on the cottage doorstep at midnight.

  The view from the veranda was spectacular made even more so by the balminess of the evening air. The sea cooling down from the heat of the day was a rippling silvery gleam, the horizon a pinkish purple, the sun a golden bowl low in the sky. There were candles in silver holders on the table, little pots of fresh flowers, and the air was still. It was sheltered out here with leafy vine-filled walls mingling with flowering climbers twisted round the hefty wooden pillars around and above them.

  It was one of those moments of rare perfection.

  ‘Well … what do you think?’

  ‘I think it’s breathtaking.’

  ‘And so are you,’ he whispered on cue, but somehow the predictability of the remark did not matter and tonight Francesca determined she was not going to start comparisons between this man and David.

  ‘I’m looking for a job,’ she said as they waited for their starters. ‘Either that or I’m going to start up in business.’

  ‘Sounds good. Doing what?’

  ‘I don’t know. But I have been doing a bit of research looking for a gap in the market and I think I might have found one. We don’t have a shop in town that specialises in fine art. I could do that. I don’t know a thing about it, but I could find somebody who does. I have the money to fund it and I believe there would be a market for it.’