‘It must have been hard for you and Tony, being a mixed couple.’
‘Oh yes, certainly. Our friends were lovely, of course, but strangers stared, and worse.’
‘What about your families? Did they accept it?’
Marjorie married Tony the year after they met, which would have been around 1967. Their mixed marriage would still have been illegal in some US states.
‘Well, my parents were no longer around by the time we married, but Tony’s were alive, as I mentioned. They did their best but never really warmed to me. It was too hard in those days, especially for well-to-do Chinese who had enough of their own social pecking order to worry about, plus the usual colonial racism. Most of the British clubs were restricted to gweilos, even in 1970 when we arrived, so I can understand my in-laws’ own pressures. Tony and I just muddled through, and did our best to ignore the inevitable objections. But we never hid our relationship. We were too in love for that. And besides, there was no way to hide our races. It hurt at times, but since I was never going to blend in, I generally did as I liked and didn’t worry about what other people thought. I guess I still don’t, and I’ve got Tony to thank for that.’
‘It sounds like you’ve got Tony to thank for a lot of things.’
She smiled. ‘Yes, I do. We had nearly thirty years together and I don’t regret a minute of it.’ She looked wistful. ‘I didn’t expect thirty years with The Colonel, but I hoped for a bit more time.’ She sighed.
‘He’ll be all right, Marjorie, I know he will. Wait here. I’ll just check whether we can go in to see him. I’m sure he’d love to see you.’
Fear gripped me as I approached the reception counter. What if they told me he’d died, and I had to tell Marjorie? ‘Hello? I’m checking on the patient that was brought in a little while ago, with a heart attack?’ The nurse was certainly taking her time with her computer screen.
‘Yes,’ she said slowly, as if double-checking something before she continued. My heart thudded in my throat. ‘Are you family?’ I nodded, bracing for bad news. ‘He’s through those doors to the right.’
‘Is he?’ Gulp. ‘He’s not dead, is he?’
She looked startled. ‘Goodness, no, I don’t think so! The doctor will be with him.’
‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ I was so relieved. Marjorie would get more time with The Colonel. She’d have the chance to say and do whatever she needed to ensure she had no regrets.
Did I have regrets? I knew what Marjorie would say if she hadn’t been busy wheeling determinedly towards her puckered paramour. Could-haves didn’t matter because the fact was, I did what I did. But then, that very minute, I knew I wanted to do everything I could to build my music career. If it failed, then so be it. But if it failed because I never gave it the chance to succeed, then I would have regrets. I was calling People on my way home from the hospital.
Chapter 19
The Colonel counted his blessings as he lay in the hospital. No sooner had the doctor unhooked the beeping machines and pronounced him a very lucky man than he climbed out of bed, struggled onto an arthritic knee and proposed to Marjorie. I was a blubbering mess, but even The Grandson cried. Marjorie kept her usual composure, graciously accepting his offer to make an honest woman of her, and suggested a small wedding in a few weeks. I was going to be the bridesmaid! ‘It’s so romantic, don’t you think?’ I asked my friends as we sat around the trestle dining table. ‘A summer wedding.’
The vague nature of the Bacchanalia Dining Society had piqued our curiosity, just as it was meant to do. Members-only dinners in secret locations texted on the day of the event with no idea what’s on the menu? There was no better way to convince urbanites to part with £50 to eat random food amidst the urban decay of an abandoned car park, and enjoy the experience. The crumbling concrete twinkled with fairy lights, which seemed to be disorientating the pigeons that occasionally whizzed overhead. They must have wondered why we’d so rudely invaded their roost. If I spoke pigeon, I’d have told them the truth. We’d been brainwashed to think that combining dinner with bird droppings was trendy.
‘Wow, I haven’t been married even once.’ Faith pouted.
‘Cheer up,’ said Clare. ‘You’ve got plenty of time for a string of husbands.’
She brightened at the prospect.
‘Besides,’ I said. ‘You can’t begrudge them at their age.’
‘It’s a very beautiful story,’ said The Hairy Biker. ‘Our capacity to love throughout our lives is what binds us all together and makes us human.’
Kat grinned at him like he’d just rivalled Shakespeare. She figured it was time we met the wooer of married women, the breaker of families. She was so sure we’d love him that she decided to throw him in the lions’ den rather than let us take strips off him one at a time. Much as I tried not to, I did like him. As a person. I still resented him as a home-wrecker.
What was happening to us all? After ten years of status quo, the rate of change was unsettling. Faith had more than overcome her flaw intolerance. She was positively gorging on behaviour that would have sent her into shock six months earlier. Fred was a man who hemmed his jeans and wore hand-softening gloves to bed. She’d rejected dates for such unmanly behaviour as not knowing how to connect the Freeview box. They were talking long-term plans. I heard Frederick mention that they’d go to Cannes next year for the film festival. Next year! Faith’s forward-thinking rarely extended beyond lunch.
Meanwhile, Clare was doing nothing but thinking forward. She was four months away from creating a new person. Words like amniocentesis and placenta crept into her vocabulary. She started measuring time in weeks, as if breaking time into smaller units till D-day (d for dilation) somehow slowed it down. And Kat was contemplating walking out on her marriage.
‘B., Kathryn tells me that you’re a lovely singer. I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up on YouTube. You are really remarkable.’
Argh, flattery. Straight for my Achilles heel. ‘Thank you very much. What kind of music do you usually listen to?’
‘I like the classics.’
I could just picture him head-banging. ‘Mmm, I was a big Guns ’n’ Roses fan in university.’ It wasn’t exactly thrash metal but it was the closest I got.
‘Oh-oh-oh-oh sweet child o’ mine,’ Clare sang quietly, doing her best to be snake-hipped in her chair but succeeding only in looking a bit green around the gills.
‘Oh, no, B., I meant classical music. I don’t pretend to have sophisticated tastes, though,’ he added shyly. ‘I prefer the more mainstream composers like Vivaldi, Beethoven, Handel, but I’ve also developed a taste for opera lately. I’m a member at Glyndebourne. It’s only about ten miles from my sister’s house so I can stay over there when I take my nieces to performances. Have you been?’
I’d been trumped in the culture stakes by someone who smelled of motor oil. ‘No, I haven’t been there. I tend to gravitate more towards solo singers, or world music.’
All right, so he actually smelled of Hermès d’Orange Vert.
‘Ah yes, very nice. There are some great venues in Camden. Are you familiar with the area? Some of them are wonderfully intimate. Though the Barbican has much to offer too, for some of the bigger performers. I saw Ladysmith Black Mambazo there a few years back. They needed the big room to accommodate such a big sound. Very powerful. It moved me to tears.’
Kat said, ‘We’ve got tickets for the Bolshoi next week.’
‘At the Royal Opera?’ I enquired politely while trying to adjust my perception of this leather-clad Lothario.
‘No, in St Petersburg.’
‘Russia?’
‘Well, it’s not Florida, Spatzl. We’re going for the long weekend.’
Well, that’s bolshoi. ‘What about the boys?’
Kat shot me a hurt look. ‘My mother is coming over to look after them.’
‘B.,’ said The Hairy Biker, sensing Kat’s discomfort at my pointed question. ‘This must be hard for you, for all of Kath
ryn and James’ friends. My best friends broke up a few years ago and it’s devastating. I was their best man. I’m godfather to their son. We’d been on holiday together every year since we were twenty-five. Suddenly they announced that they were divorcing. It was a bombshell. They were happily married, as far as we knew, yet they started talking through lawyers. It calls into question everything you think you know about them, and your friendship with them. Often we blame ourselves for not seeing the signs. And I certainly don’t blame you for resenting me as James’ replacement. But I’m not the reason for their marriage breaking up. We meet people all the time, don’t we, single people, sexy people. If you’re in love with your partner, then no matter who you meet, you’re going to stay happily together. If you’re not in love, then there’s very little to keep you together, whether you meet someone else or not. I’ll consider myself lucky for the rest of my life that Kathryn came into it when she did. If I hadn’t stopped to help her, we may never have met.’ He shook his head. ‘That thought makes me terribly sad.’
I gave up. He was a reasonable, kind, cultured man who’d obviously walk through fire for my friend. Dammit, I really hoped to hate him. ‘It’s just going to take me a little while to make the transition, that’s all.’ I grasped Kat’s hand, looking at The Hairy Biker. ‘I’m happy for you both.’
‘Thank you, Suesse,’ she said quietly. ‘Now I see why you left Mattias. I understand what you were saying. You wanted a different life. It wasn’t enough. I’m so sorry I judged you.’
I welled up at her apology. I guess I had resented her, especially after she waxed lyrical over The Hairy Biker and the miracle of love. As if I hadn’t told her the very same thing. As if she hadn’t judged me harshly for daring to want to be in love. I didn’t realise I’d been waiting for her approval until I got it. I was vindicated. ‘Thank you, Kat.’
‘Don’t thank me. You were right. I was wrong. I didn’t understand. Now I do. Once you know what you could have, you can’t go back. You can’t pretend that what you have is enough.’
But that was exactly my problem, wasn’t it? I didn’t know what I could have. I didn’t really know what was out there, or whether it was better than what I had. I only knew what was at home, in the flat we shared. He was out with James tonight, as he had been most nights lately. And I looked forward to hearing his key in the door, knowing he’d throw himself on the sofa and ask all about the minutiae of my night. We were as comfortable as we’d always been, so in some ways, nothing had changed. In other important ways, though, much had changed. Mattias was in my mind now, in a way he hadn’t been for a long time. I was forgetting why it was so important to leave him. The certainty in my decision was slipping away.
I shoved these thoughts from my mind. It wasn’t fair to be so self-absorbed, not on Clare’s birthday. ‘Many happy returns,’ I said, raising my glass. ‘To Clare,’ we chorused.
‘Thanks, my little petunias, I do appreciate the effort,’ she said, eying the oil stains on the concrete floor. ‘I’m just not feeling very jolly these days. Besides, it’s a nothing birthday. Yours will be more fun, B. Your penultimate birthday. It’s coming up fast!’
‘Don’t remind me. Thirty-nine, sheesh. I may celebrate the anniversaries of my thirtieth instead. Let’s call it the ninth anniversary, shall we?’
‘Fine. What do you want to do for your thirtieth birthday’s ninth anniversary?’ Kat asked.
‘Something low-key I think. I’ll just get everyone together, maybe at Fred’s. It’s not really that big a deal.’
‘Oh, but it is, B.,’ she objected. ‘I know you won’t let us celebrate your fortieth, so this is a milestone. Besides, technically you will be in your fortieth year. You’ll be in the middle ages.’
‘Kat, how dare you, I will not be middle aged! Middle age is your fifties. Late fifties.’
‘Really.’ Faith arched her eyebrow. ‘How many hundred-and-ten-year-olds do you know?’
‘You know what I mean. It’s not the same now as it was in our parents’ generation. Thirty-nine is the new twenty-nine. Or do only thirty-nine-year-olds say that?’ My question was answered by pitying looks. ‘All right, whatever. You’ll be the first to know when I decide. Clare, honey, you’ve hardly eaten anything. Do you want to try the pudding?’ She agreed to acknowledge her birthday on the condition that there was neither cake nor candle. We’d ordered the entire pudding menu instead.
‘Ugh, I can’t, B., I’ll vomit.’
‘I thought morning sickness happened in the morning,’ Faith said.
‘That’s a myth. Everything makes me vomity, no matter what time of day. Will you promise me something? If I ever volunteer to do this again, e-ver, don’t let me do it. It’s a miserable existence.’ She rounded on Kat. ‘Why didn’t you warn me!’
‘What good would that have done? The horse was out of the door already. It wouldn’t have made you feel better to know what you were in for.’
‘You see? This whole pregnancy thing is one giant conspiracy, and it’s perpetuated by women. For shame!’ She glared at Kat, who remained unapologetic. ‘If we knew what it was really like before we did it, we’d die out as a species.’
‘That’s why nobody tells you, Liebchen.’
‘Well, I’m not continuing this cruelty to women. Girls, there are things you need to know.’ Faith and I leaned forward in anticipation, even though Clare hadn’t exactly suffered in silence lately. ‘You know I’m sick all the time, right? Well, imagine suddenly having a superpower sense of smell too. I actually know when someone has just used a tampon.’
I blushed when she looked at me.
‘Yes, I know, it’s disgusting but it’s true. Don’t get me started on body odour. Everything smells about a thousand times stronger than normal. Imagine. Garlic, fish, yeasty bread, your rubbish. I projectile vomited over Marmite the other day, and you know I love my Marmite. They also don’t tell you about the piles. I haven’t had a painless poo in months. I’m afraid I’ll crap out an intestine when I go into labour. See this?’ She pointed to a dark patch on her face. ‘They call it a pregnancy mask. Bollocks. You can take off a mask. This may not go away afterwards. My body is deformed.’ She waved away our protests. ‘It is. My tits are obscene.’
Poor Hairy Biker tried not to stare at what had become Clare’s dominant feature of late.
‘They hurt. I swear I’d punch anyone who tried to touch them. I’ve had to buy bras that make foot-binding look like a bit of discomfort, just to keep control of them. And I can’t even wear my shoes. My feet have grown. I’m a constipated blotchy-faced mutant Sasquatch.’
‘Just wait till you have the baby.’ Kat smirked cruelly.
‘Thanks. Thanks for that, Kat. I farted the other day in the interview,’ she confessed.
‘Maybe nobody noticed.’
‘Oh, she noticed. She opened a window.’
‘She must have really liked you, then. You got the job.’
‘I guess so. That’s a relief anyway, though I can’t keep the pregnancy a secret for long. Right now they just think I’m fat and flatulent.’
‘When do you have to tell them?’ I asked her, catching Kat’s eye. She was thinking the same thing. If she wasn’t keeping the baby, then it wasn’t a big deal, she’d be back to work in a few weeks. Was she keeping the baby?
‘In three weeks. That’ll go down well, won’t it, at the end of my first week of work? I’m sure to win Employee of the Year for that.’
‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to wait till after the baby’s a bit older to find work?’ The Hairy Biker asked. I tensed. Hadn’t Kat briefed him about the decision that shall not be mentioned? We didn’t know that Clare’s life would include an ‘after the baby’s a bit older’. Besides, we may have the right to question her integrity in the workplace. The interloper did not. He’d known us for five minutes. To ask anything beyond ‘How are you?’, ‘More wine?’ or ‘Have you lost weight?’ was going too far.
‘It might have been easier,
but you never know,’ Clare said with no trace of rancour. ‘My CV was in with the headhunter from before I was pregnant. I’ve always kept some lines in the water. This job came up and it’s perfect, no travel and normal hours. It was too good to pass up the chance. Besides, I’m only taking off a few months after the baby.’ She searched our faces for a reaction.
‘Clare,’ I whispered. ‘Do you mean you’re keeping the baby?’ She nodded, looking like she couldn’t quite believe it herself. ‘Aghhhh!’ I launched myself on her while Kat and Faith lunged to join us. ‘You’re going to be such a great mum, and we’ll help you, won’t we? Oh, Clare, I’m so happy for you!’ The four of us bounced, arms around each other, in a squealing circle.
Bella Summer Takes a Chance Page 18
