Saturdays at Noon

by Marks, Rachel

  Alfie laughs and starts tearing at it. ‘It’s like pass the parcel.’

  I smile, but my heart feels heavy as I catch a glimpse of the leather album beneath the paper and realize what Emily’s present is going to be. Alfie removes the last bit of wrapping paper and opens the photo album.

  ‘Look, it’s me! That was when we went to the park in the pouring rain. It was so fun. Look at the raindrop on my nose.’

  Alfie points at the picture of him, standing at the top of the climbing frame, dripping wet, his face full of nothing but glee. Then he turns the pages, slowly at first but then more quickly, and my breathing feels laboured. The photos are beautiful. I knew Emily was talented, but these images are something else. And every one captures Alfie, just as he is. Whenever we try to take a photo of him, he hides or pulls a strange face. It’s his attempt at a smile, but he can’t quite connect his mouth and his brain so he always ends up looking odd. But Emily’s snapped him when he’s not looking or when he’s so full of joy that his face is full of it too. And there are photos of him and me too. And we’re happy. We’re really happy.

  When I get to the last picture, it feels like being winded. It’s a selfie of Emily and Alfie. He’s got his arms around her neck and is peering over her shoulder and both of their eyes are watering from laughing so much.

  ‘Look, it’s Emily.’ Alfie rubs his fingers across Emily’s face. ‘Can we call her, Daddy? Can we take her a present? I could make her one out of Lego.’

  I desperately want to call her too, but I owe it to her to respect her wishes.

  ‘She’s had to go away for a little while, Alfie, and her phone doesn’t work there, but she says she can’t wait to see you when she gets back.’

  Alfie looks wounded and continues to stare at the photograph of her.

  ‘What are you both doing?’ Jemma’s voice startles me as she appears in the doorway.

  Alfie scrambles out of bed and holds the album up to her. ‘Look, Mummy, it’s lots of photos of me. And Daddy. And there’s one of Emily.’

  Jemma nods slowly, as if realizing something very important.

  ‘It’s his Christmas present from Emily. I was just trying to calm him down for a while. It was all getting a bit much downstairs.’

  Jemma sighs. ‘Yeah, I’m sorry it got a little bit heated. I got the sherry off Mum’s top. She’s borrowed one of mine for now. It actually looks better on her than it does on me.’ Jemma smiles. ‘They’re going to stay for Christmas lunch and then they’re going to go so that we can have a bit of family time, just the three of us.’

  I know that she’s trying her best to put things right. In the past, she never would’ve apologized. In fact, somehow, she would’ve blamed me. And, usually, pleasing her parents would be the focal point of her day. There’s no way she would’ve asked them to leave early.

  ‘Sounds good.’

  Alfie pulls Jemma down to sit on the bed and starts showing her all the photographs, talking in detail about each one. Jemma paints on her best enthusiastic expression, but her eyes just look sad.

  ‘Wow, Alfie, look at all the fun things you did when I was away.’

  Before they get to the end, I pull the album away. ‘Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’m starving and the food smells great.’

  Jemma looks up at me and I wonder if she knows I’m trying to protect her.

  ‘But I want to show Mummy all of them.’

  ‘We will. But first, we need to get to the table before Grandma and Grandpa pull all the crackers without us.’

  Alfie glances at the album in my hands and then looks out the door. ‘Quick, they might have done them already.’

  And then he’s off. I put Emily’s present on the bed and guide Jemma out of the room with me.

  * * *

  I’m lying on the bed reading the surf magazine Jemma got me for Christmas. I’m not sure why I do it to myself. Pages and pages of waves I’ll never get to enjoy and adventures I no longer have time to experience.

  The bathroom door opens and I look up, expecting to see Jemma in her usual flannel pyjamas, hair tied back, make-up removed and moisturizer on. Instead, she’s wearing a red lacy corset and a Santa hat.

  ‘Merry Christmas, baby,’ she says in her sexiest voice.

  I know I’m supposed to be turned on, but I’ve never really been one for dressing up and it just feels too much. I’m not sure if I want to laugh or hide.

  She crawls up the bed, pushing her chest out in front of her, takes my magazine off me and throws it to the floor. Then she puts her weight on my chest so that my head slides down the headboard and she straddles me.

  ‘I told you I’d got you one more special present,’ she says, kissing my neck.

  To be honest, I was hoping for a surprise holiday to the Alps or at least the Fitbit I’ve been dropping hints about for weeks. This is very much unexpected. And not entirely desired. But then I look in her eyes and she looks so fragile, so desperate for me to reciprocate some of her affection, that I know that, unless I’m certain I want to say goodbye to my marriage for good, I can’t make any more excuses.

  I roll Jemma on to her side and kiss her. It’s more of a peck than a kiss – it’s over before it’s begun. So I do it again, trying to get lost in the physical sensations, the feel of her hands on my body, her soft lips, her smooth skin.

  Afterwards, I lie back on the bed and Jemma rests her head on my chest, neither of us daring to speak. Looking down at her body lying against mine, it occurs to me that I know every part of her, every mole, the exact texture of her hair, the tempo of her resting heartbeat. We’ve been together so long, shared so much. Surely there’s a return route to where we once were. How hard can it be to fall back in love with your wife?

  Emily

  I put the flowers I’ve bought on Nan’s grave and a cactus on Dad’s. I’m not sure why I went for a cactus. I picked up daisies first, but then I saw the prickly potted plant and it just seemed a bit more manly.

  I never thought I would, but I like coming here. I still never say anything out loud, but occasionally in my head I’ll have a little chat to them both. Tell them what I’ve been up to. And I always imagine my nan shouting down, ‘WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO AN INANIMATE OBJECT, YOU PLONKER?’ And it always makes me smile.

  As I leave the graveyard and walk back down the lane to my car, I think I hear Alfie’s voice. It’s not unusual. I think I hear it a lot. But then I look into the field next to the churchyard and there he is, playing football. Jake’s in goal and Jemma’s running along beside Alfie.

  ‘Pass the ball.’

  Alfie ignores his mum, charges ahead and kicks the ball towards the goal. It sneaks past Jake’s fingers and he falls to the ground theatrically, putting his hands on his head.

  ‘Goal!’ Alfie shouts and runs up to Jemma, jumping up and giving her a high five. Then he runs over and jumps on Jake, bouncing up and down on his tummy.

  Jemma follows him over, pulls Alfie off and helps Jake up. Then she puts her arm around Jake’s waist and kisses him on the cheek.

  It’s hard not to stay and watch, like when you drive past a car crash on a motorway, but I force myself to walk back to my car, with a stabbing pain in my chest and a sudden realization that I can’t do this. Living here, it’s like having Alfie and Jake in surround sound and three-sixty vision. I can’t get over them like this. So, as soon as I get home, I open my laptop and google ‘nice places to live as far away as possible from Gloucestershire’.

  * * *

  Alice walks into the bar wearing skinny jeans, a skintight body and killer heels.

  ‘Wow, you look amazing!’

  She does a twirl. ‘It’s very rare I get a pass for a proper night out. I’m going to make the most of it.’

  ‘Well, you’re certainly dressed to impress.’

  She raises her hand and the barman struts over. ‘A bottle of Prosecco, please. Two glasses.’

  ‘Coming right up.’ The barman pops the cork and pours us our dr
inks, putting the rest of the bottle in an ice-cooler.

  ‘I was like a dairy cow earlier. Pumped enough of the good stuff to last Billy until he’s sixteen, I reckon, so I can drink to my heart’s content tonight.’

  The barman looks terrified and we both laugh.

  ‘So how’s the business going?’ Alice says, taking a large gulp of her drink. ‘It looks like you’re doing great. How many likes has your page got now?’

  ‘Four hundred and eighty-seven, not that I keep checking or anything.’

  ‘Well, the photos you’ve put on there are amazing, Em. You are so talented. I always told you that.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Alice leans back, mock-startled. ‘I’m sorry, did Emily Davies just accept a compliment without batting it back? You’ve changed.’

  ‘Ha.’

  ‘And the one about whom we should not talk? How are you feeling about him?’

  I fiddle with my nails. ‘I’m getting there.’

  ‘Good. You’re better off without him.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. Look, Al, I need to tell you something and you’re not going to like it, but I promise I will still see you all the time and call.’

  Alice’s face fills with concern. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m moving to South Devon.’

  ‘South Devon? Why the hell are you moving there? Please tell me you’ve met a gorgeous millionaire who’s asked you to go and live with him in his seafront mansion because, if not, there is no way I’m letting you go.’

  ‘Unfortunately not. I just need a fresh start.’

  ‘This is Jake’s fault, isn’t it? I’m going to go to his house and cut off his penis.’

  I smile. ‘It’s not his fault. I just realized that I’ve never been anywhere. You went off to uni. You had adventures. I’ve spent the past twenty-five years stuck in the same town, working the same crappy jobs. I’d like to live by the sea. Meet new people.’

  ‘Thanks very much.’

  ‘You know I’ll never meet anyone like you.’

  ‘Well, that’s a given.’ Alice reaches out and grasps my hand. ‘Are you really sure about this?’

  I nod, even though I’m still full of doubt.

  ‘OK. If you think it’ll make you happy, then I have to support your decision, but I can’t say I’m not absolutely gutted.’

  ‘I know. I don’t want to leave you. But I think I need to do this. You’ll have to put up with having me as a regular house guest, though.’

  ‘That’s cool. You can sleep in Billy’s room. As long as you don’t mind listening to me and Ben making wild frantic love in the room next to you.’

  I slap Alice’s arm. ‘Don’t be disgusting.’

  Alice empties her glass. ‘Well, I suppose we better make this a night to remember then. Come on, lady. Let’s get those shots in.’

  ‘We haven’t finished this bottle of Prosecco yet.’

  She looks at my almost-full glass. ‘Drink up, then.’

  I push my glass towards her. ‘Actually, I’m taking a break from it for a while. I didn’t want to worry you so I haven’t said anything, but it was getting a bit out of hand.’

  Alice looks alarmed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Shall I not drink either, then? I can give this to someone else, if you want?’

  ‘No. I insist. You go ahead. I will not be happy unless you’re passed out on the pavement by the end of the night.’

  ‘Sure?’

  I nod.

  ‘OK then.’ Alice starts on my glass and then, after drinking almost the whole thing, she puts it back on the bar. ‘Right, keep an eye on this Prosecco for me, will you?’ she asks the barman. ‘We’re going to have a dance.’

  ‘Are we?’

  ‘We are.’ Alice takes my hand and pulls me on to the dance floor.

  It’s not really a dance floor, just a bit of space around the DJ deck, and it’s still quite early so we’re the only ones brave, or devoid of pride, enough to step on to it. The DJ’s playing some terrible grime music and it’s impossible to catch a beat so we just throw our arms in the air and pump them like we’re holding glow sticks.

  All of the trendy and sophisticated people sitting at the tables, having just popped in for a quick one after a day schmoozing clients in their important jobs, stare at us and whisper to each other, but we don’t care, we just keep on dancing, or doing the thing we’re doing that’s not really dancing at all.

  When we’re hot, bothered and our feet are hurting us, we return to the bar. Alice tops up her glass of Prosecco and then calls the barman over. ‘I’d like a Slippery Nipple, please. And don’t worry, I’m not talking about mine this time.’

  The barman looks decidedly uncomfortable, but pours Alice a shot. As he does so, two blokes saunter over, standing either side of us and sandwiching us in the middle.

  ‘I’ll get that for you in exchange for a kiss,’ the bloke next to Alice says, putting his arm around her shoulder. He’s clearly wasted and looks like he’s using her to help hold himself up.

  She puts her left hand in front of his face. ‘I’m flattered, but I’m married.’

  ‘That’s not necessarily a problem.’

  ‘Except it is, because we believe in this strange concept called monogamy. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of it, but it’s actually pretty cool. You should give it a go some time.’

  The guy smirks and returns to his table, leaving his friend alone to try his luck with me.

  ‘How about you? I don’t see a ring on your finger.’

  ‘You’re very observant.’

  ‘It’s hard not to study every part of you like you’re a code I’m trying to crack.’

  I can feel Alice giggling beside me and have to bite my lip. Then her phone starts ringing.

  ‘It’s Ben. I’ll be back in a second.’

  She goes outside to take the call and leaves me with Mr Smooth. ‘So are you going to let me buy you a drink?’

  I look at the stash of alcohol behind the bar, calling to me like a witch trying to put me under her spell. Then I return my eyes to his relatively handsome face, wondering what it would be like to wake up to it, rather than the glare of my empty pillow. And I immediately know that both things would ultimately make me feel worse, not better.

  ‘I don’t drink, but thank you. I hope you have a good night.’

  He looks like I just told him I’m part of a religious cult, and hurries back to his friend. As I order a Diet Coke, Alice returns from outside.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Em, but Billy will not sleep without me. Ben’s been walking him around for the past three hours because he didn’t want to ruin our night, but Billy just won’t stop screaming. I’m going to have to go and save him.’

  ‘No problem. I totally understand.’

  ‘So do you want to share a taxi or are you staying out a bit longer?’

  ‘I’ll come home with you.’

  Alice looks surprised. ‘Good.’

  While we wait for the taxi to arrive, we finish our drinks and then head back to the dance floor. The DJ’s playing the R ’n’ B part of his set so we gyrate and wind our bodies in the way the music encourages, giggling and holding each other’s hands, and I wish for the thousandth time that I could take Alice with me.

  In the taxi, she lies with her head in my lap, looking up at me. ‘I feel sick.’

  ‘I need a wee.’

  ‘Remember the time we went for a wee at the back of that pub thinking we were hidden only to look up and see those builders in their van laughing at us? They got a right show, dirty buggers.’

  I smile at the memory and play with one of Alice’s curls. ‘I miss Alfie.’

  She touches my hand. ‘I know you do.’

  ‘And I know you think he’s a prick, but I miss Jake too. I really do.’

  ‘You’ll meet someone better, Em, I promise.’

  ‘I hope so. I wasn’t even sure I wanted it, you know, the husband, the two-point-four children. But I think maybe I do.’


  ‘You’ll find it. Don’t worry.’

  I lean across to look out of the windscreen. ‘Are we even going the right way? It seems to be taking a long time.’

  The red numbers on the screen in the front already say thirteen pounds twenty.

  ‘He probably thinks we’re pissed and is taking advantage of the fact by driving us round in circles.’

  ‘Well, he’ll be sorry when I wee on his seat.’

  Alice lifts up her head. ‘Just don’t get it on my hair, will you?’

  The taxi driver clears his throat. ‘Um, excuse me, but I am a reputable taxi driver and I would never take advantage of my passengers being in an inebriated state just to make more revenue. And please be aware that urinating on the upholstery carries a hundred-pound charge to cover cleaning costs.’

  Alice and I both try to stifle our giggles but they come out as loud splutters.

  ‘Do you think he swallowed a dictionary?’

  The car pulls up outside my flat. ‘Right, this is me. Hope Billy sleeps for you.’

  Alice sits up and wraps her arms around me. ‘Love you, Em. If you really feel that moving away is what you need, we’ll make it work, OK? You’ll still always be my best friend.’

  ‘And you mine. Always.’

  When I go into my flat, I take my box out of the wardrobe and pull out the one photo of Alfie that I kept, him holding out a Lego camera that he made me. The thought of never seeing him again makes me feel like I’m about to have a panic attack, like I might actually keel over from the pain. But I don’t want to visit him once in a blue moon, to watch him slowly drifting away, caring that little bit less each time I see him. I want to be in the centre of it. I want the whole thing. Before meeting Alfie and Jake, it didn’t even seem possible. That I too could have what everyone else seems to have, what Alice has. They opened my eyes and now I can’t close them. I can’t unsee. Who knows if I’ll ever find it again, but I know I have to at least look.

  Jake

  ‘You’re right. It’s PDA. I mean, they don’t officially diagnose that in this county, so on your report it’ll say something like ASD with a demand avoidance profile, but you’ll know what it means. I’ll also mention the OCD stuff. At this age, it’s sometimes hard to separate the anxiety-triggered behaviours associated with autism and the more distinct OCD symptoms, but ultimately it all comes down to the same thing – the need to control your environment – and quite often these conditions are co-morbid.’