Saturdays at Noon

by Marks, Rachel

  Emily looks over at me like I’ve just done a shit on the Queen’s lawn. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What?’ I hold up my hands.

  ‘You can’t mix them up any which way. You have to find the parts that go together.’

  I laugh. ‘OK, Mrs OCD. I can see why you and Alfie get on so well now.’

  Emily gives me daggers, but I can tell she’s not really angry.

  ‘Look, I’ve made me, Daddy,’ Alfie says, holding up his creation. The body is sporting a doctor’s uniform and it’s holding a spiky club but it does have Alfie’s yellow hair.

  ‘Looks just like you, son.’

  Emily stifles a smile.

  ‘I’m going to make you next, Daddy, and then you.’ Alfie points at Emily, who looks concerned.

  ‘Why don’t you make your mummy instead? Then you’d have your family. You, Daddy and Mummy.’

  Alfie clearly doesn’t get it. ‘No. I want to do you.’

  I put my hand on top of Alfie’s. ‘Em’s right. We could Skype Mummy later and show her. I bet she’d love it.’

  Alfie pulls his hand away from me and crosses his arms. ‘No, I’m doing Emily and that’s that.’

  ‘OK. That’s fine.’

  I’m not going to push it. It’s not like Alfie’s representations are accurate enough for Jemma to make out who the figures are anyway. And, besides, she’s not here and Emily is.

  When we reach the till, Alfie holds up his figures to the cashier.

  ‘Oooh, what have you made?’ she asks, feigning interest for probably the thousandth time that day.

  Alfie points to each figure in turn. ‘This one’s me, this one’s Daddy and this one’s Emily.’

  ‘What a perfect family.’ The young cashier smiles.

  There was a time when it would have seemed strange, this selection of people, a mum called by her Christian name. But this girl has probably seen a million so-called ‘modern’ families passing through her shop. Maybe she’s even part of one.

  ‘Oh, I’m not …’ Emily begins but trails off. ‘Thank you.’

  Maybe I’m mistaken, but I think Emily purposefully avoids my eye contact. A week ago, misunderstandings like this would’ve been a source of amusement, but since she came to the beach with us, everything feels different. Like we’re operating at a different frequency.

  * * *

  When we get home, Alfie’s exhausted but, in true Alfie fashion, it still takes him about an hour of Emily and me sitting with him before he goes to sleep. It drives me insane. I’m sure he’s taking years off my life expectancy.

  Anyway, he’s asleep now. I have beer. For a short period of time, all is right with the world.

  ‘Thank you for persuading me to go today. I had a great day.’

  We’re sitting on the sofa, our backs against opposite arms like bookends. My legs are out in front of me, bent at the knee, and Emily has hers crossed.

  ‘Get your geek fix with the Star Wars exhibition?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks for that too.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’ve never really got the whole Star Wars thing. I was happier doing multiple rides of the Fairy Tale Brook boat trip. Lego seven dwarfs, now that’s what you call impressive.’

  I rub the moisture off the label on my beer bottle. ‘How many times did he make you do it?’

  ‘Seven, and one more for luck.’

  I smile.

  ‘I think the guy operating it thought we were slightly insane, but I enjoyed it.’

  Every time Emily’s knee brushes against my feet, my heartbeat becomes tangible in my chest. It’s snuck up on me all of a sudden, like a well-disguised trick-or-treater, but somehow I find myself wanting to be around her. I’m not sure if it’s a knee-jerk reaction to Jemma’s rejection of me, the fact she makes Alfie more bearable to live with or maybe just pure desperation affecting my eyesight, but I suddenly find her really attractive. And I don’t just mean she has a pretty face. I’ve always known she was striking. But now, when I look at her, it’s like, Man, you are seriously hot. With her bright-white choppy hair and toned physique, she looks like the surfer chicks I used to fantasize about as a teenager. I know the feeling’s not mutual and it’s not like I’d act on it even if it was (despite the fact my wife has made it crystal clear she doesn’t want to be with me), but it’s still a confusing development that I’m not sure what to do with.

  Emily studies me for a second and I pray to God she can’t read my mind. ‘I enjoyed masquerading as Alfie’s mum today. The only downside was people thinking I was your wife.’

  I take a swig of my beer. ‘Now you know how Jemma felt.’

  ‘True. And I only had to bear it for one day. How long were you guys married?’

  ‘Over thirteen years.’

  It makes my head hurt to think of all the time we spent together.

  ‘Oh, yeah, I’d have run a mile long before that.’ Emily’s huge blue eyes peer at me over the top of her wine glass as she drinks. Surely she’s wearing contacts? I’m convinced her eyes weren’t that blue before. ‘Do you miss her?’

  ‘Not right now, no.’

  ‘I have to admit I find it strange she doesn’t miss Alfie. Well, I’m sure she misses him but I mean so much that she has to come home. I even miss him at the weekends.’

  With Emily in such close proximity to me, I’m too distracted to really focus on what she’s saying.

  ‘Sorry, it’s really not my place to say anything about Jemma,’ she continues. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  I realize I must’ve gone quiet. ‘No, you didn’t. I was just thinking …’ about you naked ‘… how glad I am that you like being with Alfie so much.’

  I feel like a teenage boy again. What has got into me? I’m embarrassed for myself. I finish my beer and use it as an excuse to get up off the sofa and head to the kitchen for a breather. ‘More wine?’

  ‘I’m driving.’

  ‘I can book you a taxi or you can stay here, if you like?’ My mouth seems to be speaking without the permission of my brain. ‘We have a spare bed.’

  ‘I don’t know. I think I’ll just drive back.’

  ‘Come on, it’s been a long day. You deserve a drink or two.’ I try to sound as nonchalant as possible. ‘Besides, I have cheesecake. You can have your very own slice.’

  Emily narrows her eyes. ‘OK, then.’ She hands me her empty glass. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got any Baileys, though? I don’t fancy wine and cheesecake.’

  ‘I think I can manage that.’

  In the kitchen, I cut two slices of the leftover cheesecake in the fridge and put them in bowls. I locate the Baileys from the back of the cupboard and pour her a glass, dropping in a few ice cubes. Once I’ve grabbed another beer, I put it all on a tray and take it through to the lounge, all the time trying to convince myself that my intentions are entirely pure.

  Emily’s pulled the throw over her legs. I hand her one of the bowls and her drink and settle back in where I was at the other end of the sofa.

  ‘So, have you ever thought about having your own kids?’

  Emily looks down and begins to move the silver squares along her bracelet. ‘I’ve not really thought about it.’

  ‘Well, I think you’d be a great mum.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Emily smiles but she looks momentarily sad. ‘Need to find a decent man first. Although isn’t that an oxymoron?’

  ‘Oh, come on, you must have guys throwing themselves at you. I mean, obviously when they realize you’re a psychotic ice queen, they might take a step back, but you’re probably just about hot enough to counteract it.’

  Emily pretends to look affronted. ‘Thanks. Is that how it works for men?’

  ‘Pretty much. An attractive face and a hot body can make up for most personality defects.’

  I suddenly realize I’m feeling quite drunk. Only having a sandwich for tea in the car on the way home wasn’t such a good idea. I put down my beer and tuck into the cheesecake in the hope it might soak up
some of the alcohol before I say something I regret.

  ‘I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact you think I’ve got a personality defect or the fact you’ve actually managed to win me over with the pretty face and hot body comment.’ Emily tucks into her cheesecake. ‘Do you really think I’m a psychotic ice queen?’ She says it like a child asking if you’re still cross with them.

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘To be fair, I thought you were an arrogant chauvinist who beat up his wife, so I suppose neither of us are great with the first impressions.’

  ‘Why did you think I was arrogant?’

  Emily’s cheeks flush. ‘Because you’re quite good-looking, I suppose, and most of the good-looking men I know are arrogant idiots.’

  It feels like the moment in a film where the leading man and the leading lady look into each other’s eyes and then finally share the passionate kiss everyone has been waiting for. Except it doesn’t quite go like that.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, I’ve had a bad dream.’

  We both jump as Alfie comes shuffling into the room. His eyes are puffy with sleep and he looks tiny standing there in his pyjamas, clutching the teddy bear he’s had since he was born. Not even seeming to notice Emily there, he clambers on to my lap and drifts back to sleep.

  Emily slowly moves away and puts her full glass on the mantlepiece. ‘I think I’ll go.’

  ‘No, it’s OK, you don’t have to go. I can take him back up in a minute. He’ll probably settle back in his own bed.’

  She begins gathering her things together. ‘No, you stay with Alfie. I’ll see you both on Monday.’

  ‘OK, well, at least let me call you a taxi.’

  ‘I only had a sip of this. I’m fine to drive.’

  She strokes Alfie’s hair and leaves. And, once she’s gone and the air feels clearer, I realize that Alfie may have just saved me from a humiliating moment of madness that I never would have lived down.

  * * *

  The microwave tings and I retrieve Alfie’s porridge, which is just about to turn stodgy. I put in a spoonful of Nutella and hand it to him. He’s sitting at the breakfast bar, tracing his finger along the path of one of the mazes in his activity book.

  ‘Is Mummy going to come home soon?’

  ‘I don’t know, little man. I don’t think so. Not at the moment.’

  Alfie takes a spoonful of his porridge from the edge of the bowl where it’s not too hot, just like I’ve shown him.

  ‘You do know Mummy loves you, though, don’t you? Even though she’s not here, she still loves you more than anything.’

  Alfie nods. ‘She tells me when I talk to her on the computer.’

  I realize it’s still that simple for him. If someone says they love you, they love you. No questions asked.

  ‘And Emily loves me,’ he says, blowing at his spoon so hard that squidgy lumps of oats fly off in multiple directions.

  I stop tidying away the cereal. ‘Has she told you she loves you? I know she does, of course she does, how could she not? But has she said she loves you like Mummy does?’

  Alfie shakes his head. ‘Not like Mummy does. Emily says, “I love you more than curry,” but Mummy just says, “I love you.” I don’t like curry. They have it at school on Tuesdays and it smells yucky. But Emily says it’s her favourite food in the world so that means she loves me the most in the world so I said I love her more than ice cream because that’s my favourite food in the whole world.’

  I swallow hard. ‘And you love Emily that much, hey?’

  Alfie nods, but then he looks alarmed. ‘But I can still have ice cream and Emily, can’t I? I don’t have to choose?’

  ‘Of course, little man. You can have ice cream and Emily.’

  And as I say it, a not entirely innocent image runs through my head and I fear that my feelings last night weren’t just the result of too many beers, that things might be about to get complicated.

  Alfie

  Mrs Young is talking about the story we are learning. I want to cover my ears but we have to do SHELL, which means something like Sit, Hands, Eyes, Lap or something. I can never remember what each of the letters means, but when they say ‘shell’, we have to sit with our hands in our laps and look straight at the teacher so she knows we are listening.

  But I don’t want to listen because the aliens from the story were in my dream last night but instead of stealing underpants they were trying to blow up the world. I don’t want the world to blow up. It’s not what happens in the book but now, when we do the retell, my brain keeps saying the bad ending from my dream and it makes my tummy feel funny.

  ‘So which bit are we going to write today, Alfie?’

  I’m not sure what Mrs Young is talking about because my head is too full of worries, so I just don’t say anything.

  ‘Away with the fairies again? You need to try to listen or you won’t know what we’re doing, will you?’

  Her voice is a bit cross but she’s smiling, so I don’t think she is telling me off. I’m not really sure.

  We sit down to do our writing. I don’t like writing because Miss Smith keeps coming over and saying my letters are the wrong way and I have to rub them out and start again so I’m always the last to finish, which means I get stuck with the yucky carrots at the bottom of the fruit bowl at break time. I like carrots at home but not the ones at school because they taste funny. Today, I’m last again but luckily there is one apple left, so I eat that.

  At playtime, I want to play the shark game where we chase each other and then we have to fight, but Molly and James don’t like it and say they won’t play with me. So I ask them to play the Secret Seven game, except we are just the Secret Three because there’s only three of us. But they say it’s not fair because I’m always the leader, but I have to be the leader because otherwise they won’t do it right. If I’m not in charge, then they just change bits of the story and make things up and they don’t follow the rules. And then we end up arguing because they’re ruining the game and they tell a dinner lady and I get into trouble and it’s not fair. It’s not fair because it’s their fault they aren’t playing the game properly, not mine.

  After I’ve been told off, I play on my own. It’s better for a while because I know what the right password is and what the adventure is. I pretend the tree is Janet and I’m Peter and we have our meeting. The password is ‘stinky socks’ and we discover there is some missing treasure at the beach. I don’t really go to the beach; it’s just the bottom playground, but I pretend. But after a while, if I’m not playing with anyone, my brain has the silly thoughts again and I can’t make them go away. When I’m with my friends or doing learning, they usually disappear, but they come back if I’m on my own. I worry that I am just dreaming and that I’m not real. I’m just pretend and everything in the school is pretend and the whole world is just a pretend world, like when I’m asleep. It makes me feel dizzy when I think it and I don’t like it. I hit my head because I want it to go away.

  Emily

  ‘So why exactly did you want me to meet you here?’

  We are standing in the car park of the mall. Jake has done as instructed and changed out of his work clothes, but he looks exhausted and I suddenly worry that my idea of a fun after-school surprise will not match his.

  I open the door to my car and Alfie jumps out. When he sees the shopping centre, there’s a look of genuine fear on his face. ‘Why are we here? We’re not going shopping, are we?’

  They both look to me for an answer and I feel the weight of expectation on my shoulders and realize why I don’t normally arrange surprises for people. I’m not sure why I made an exception this time. I think it might have been because of something Tim said at group this week. When he first started talking about spreading positivity, I wrote it off as something more befitting a hippy commune, especially after the whole ridiculous snuggle-time thing. But, actually, the more he talked, the more sense it made. Maybe making other people happy does make you happy.

  But
as we round the corner and I catch a glimpse of the ice castle, glowing purple, it doesn’t look as impressive as it did in the photos, and it’s packed, and I wonder if I should have just picked Alfie up from school and driven home.

  ‘No, we’re not going shopping. It’s this way.’

  As we get closer, I look down at Alfie to see him staring open-mouthed at the giant sheet of ice we are going to be expected to stand up on, and I feel a renewed confidence.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and get our boots. We’re going ice-skating. Have you ever been before, Alfie?’

  Alfie doesn’t talk, just keeps staring.

  I touch him on the shoulder. ‘We need to get special boots to skate on the ice. I’ve hired you a penguin – see, that little girl has one. It’ll help you to get your balance, if you need it.’

  Alfie pulls me towards the queue of people getting the obligatory footwear. A teenage girl with too much make-up trades our shoes for boots and mutters her way through a safety talk before setting us free on the ice. As soon as we step on to the rink, Alfie falls on to his bum and I prepare myself for a scene, but he just holds out his hand with a smile and I pull him up. Once he’s gripping on to the penguin, he’s off, leaving Jake and me clinging on to the edge, trying to make forward progress.

  ‘Come on,’ Alfie calls, looking back at us over his shoulder.

  Jake and I waddle forward, then Jake tries to pick up speed and crashes to the floor, his legs ending up like two crossed fingers to the side of him.

  Alfie giggles and I slowly totter over to Jake and hold out my hand. ‘Need some help?’

  Jake untangles his legs. ‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’

  He reaches up and grips on to my hand. As I try to help him up, I lose my balance and hit the ground with a thump right next to him. We look at each other, marooned on the cold wet ice, and both start laughing.

  ‘Whose great idea was this?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I thought it would be fun,’ I say, floundering like Bambi.