by Jenny Oliver
‘It’s not just better, Amber,’ said Lovejoy, admiring himself in the pane of window glass. ‘I look bloody fantastic.’
Amber would usually have rolled her eyes at this point, made some wise-crack, that was how their relationship rolled. But instead she found herself standing like a lemon, doing a slight huff of a laugh.
But it was OK because Lovejoy’s attention was elsewhere, he had clocked Julia in the reflection. ‘And who’s this?’ he asked, turning round to give Julia his well-practised winning smile, wolfish eyes glinting.
‘This is my neighbour, Julia. She’s married,’ Amber said, stressing the word for Lovejoy’s attention. She could feel her seriousness and hated herself for it, just be cool, Amber she chastised, it’s all fine.
‘Well, everyone has to have at least one fault, don’t they?’ he grinned, sauntering over to shake hands with Julia. Amber thought he’d lost weight, he’d clearly been going to the gym because he was definitely flexing his arm muscles as he took Julia’s hand in his, lifting it to kiss the back. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m Lovejoy and this is my nephew, Martin.’
Julia was blushing blotchy up her neck, clearly embarrassed by the attention. ‘Lovejoy?’ she asked. ‘Isn’t that the guy off the TV?’ she had a vague memory of having to watch BBC reruns of the roguish, swindling antiques dealer on Sunday nights with her parents.
‘It’s a self-appointed nickname,’ Amber called over, deliberately trying to undermine him, confused by her warring emotions – her sudden fear and nervousness coupled with a defensive desire to put him down in order to make the situation less serious in her head. He’s just your friend, she told herself, that’s it, that’s all this needs to be, nothing’s changed. ‘His name’s Dave.’
‘Everyone calls me Lovejoy,’ he said, acting as if Amber hadn’t spoken, the lines on his face creasing as he smiled down at Julia, all cocky and self-assured.
‘He’s a crook,’ Amber added, unable to help herself, almost needing to reiterate to herself his faults. To remind herself why the situation was as it was. ‘You’d be advised to steer well clear.’
The blond, Martin, who was snapping a selfie on his phone, laughed.
‘Erm excuse me, don’t you laugh,’ said Lovejoy to Martin. ‘You’re meant to be on my side.’
Martin tied his hair up and took another selfie, while musing, ‘Not for much longer.’
‘Why where are you going?’ Amber asked.
‘I’ve fired him,’ Lovejoy said with a laugh.
‘You haven’t?’ Amber was shocked.
‘Course I bloody haven’t.’ Lovejoy stole a handful of Amber’s crisps, giving her a look like he was surprised she’d believed him. ‘He’s got another job. Leaving me, high and dry.’
Martin shook his head, incredulous, grabbing a crisp for himself. ‘Only because you refused to offer me more than just ad hoc work, Lovejoy. Anyway it’s not confirmed, I’m in the running for a styling job on a makeover show on Channel 5.’
‘You’d be mad to take it,’ Lovejoy cut in, leaning against the table, eating the crisps. ‘No one watches Channel 5.’
As they were bickering, Amber could sense Julia trying to catch her eye. She was so unsubtle that in the end Amber had to look her way in case Lovejoy or Martin noticed. Once she had Amber’s attention, Julia did equally unsubtle wide-eyes in Lovejoy’s direction. And Amber was so concerned that Julia was going to mouth something like ‘Is he Billy’s dad?’ that she cut her off with a quick, concise nod.
Julia’s eyes widened even further as she took in the tattoo, the square jaw, the Lothario eyes, and she too seemed to suddenly lose her ability to be natural, sitting up a bit straighter, fixing a smile on her face. Amber hoped she didn’t look as false.
Beside them Martin was still talking and fighting with Lovejoy for crisps, ‘He’s basically a nightmare to work for. No security, no respect. No nothing—’
‘That’s bullshit,’ said Lovejoy and with a roll of his eyes wandered off towards the lake to inspect the ducks while calling back over his shoulder, ‘He’s just saying that now because he feels guilty about abandoning me.’
Martin looked at Amber, exasperated, like he’d been through this a thousand times.
Behind them Lovejoy got out his phone. He came back to the table and already onto the next subject said, ‘I’ve joined Tinder. Are you on it?’ he asked Amber, then without waiting for a reply said, ‘Get on it. It’s unbelievable. I’m literally flooded with offers from gorgeous women with a burning passion for antiques dying to go on a date with me. I’m thinking at the very least I can get a new assistant out of it. Bit easier on the eye than this one,’ he nodded his head in Martin’s direction. ‘Kill two birds with one stone.’ He laughed, then his attention was caught by a prospective date on his phone and he was suddenly grinning and firmly swiping right.
‘You’re unbelievable!’ said Amber, feeling herself snap. He was exactly the same. For eighteen years she had haughtily disparaged Lovejoy’s morally dubious love life but suddenly it seemed too much. Like he was letting her down again. She could feel a buzzing in her ears that she wanted shot of. She would not allow him to be Billy’s father. She would not allow him into their lives.
She could feel Julia watching her.
Lovejoy looked up all confused, raking his hand through thick, wavy hair. ‘What? Why?’
Amber shook her head, what was she doing? This was not playing it cool. ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘Nothing, forget it.’
But Lovejoy’s attention was piqued. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he asked, putting his phone away, coming to stand at the table, rifling through the packaging remnants to see if there was anything else he could eat. ‘Why are you so moody?’
‘I’m not moody,’ said Amber, looking away at the white ducks. The sun was reflecting on the water in bursts of blinding light. In the distance the fields were crisp and arid yellow from the heat. Even the shade under the awning felt like it was hotting up. Amber could feel the sweat begin to trickle between her shoulder blades, she wanted to get going. Get away from here.
Lovejoy was inspecting his fingernails, running them through his teeth to get rid of the dirt.
Then, to her surprise, he said, ‘It’s not because I’m doing this Emerald House thing, is it?’
Amber straightened up, forgot about the ducks and looked back at Lovejoy. ‘What Emerald House thing?’ she asked slowly.
Lovejoy swallowed, clearly regretting the fact he’d volunteered the information. ‘You know?’
Amber raised a brow. ‘Clearly I don’t.’
Lovejoy suddenly refused to meet her eye, went back to sifting through the food detritus on the table. ‘They asked me to look out for some stuff they might like. That hits their vibe.’
‘Ri-ight,’ Amber said, unable to believe what she was hearing. ‘Who did?’
‘Olga, is that her name?’ Lovejoy said, crossing his arms over his chest, now looking Amber straight in the eye, almost as if in challenge. ‘She offered me one of the rooms to dress in the flagship.’
Amber frowned.
Lovejoy went on, pulling at his T-shirt like he was too hot, clearly a bit uncomfortable. ‘I said to her, I thought Amber did your rooms and she said you did but she just wanted to explore all her options.’
Amber narrowed her eyes. ‘And you agreed?’
Lovejoy tipped his head to one side and made a face, dark hair flopping over his eyes. ‘Of course I agreed. It’s work. You’d have agreed.’
Amber’s eyes widened. ‘So you’re taking one of my rooms?’
‘I’m not taking one of your rooms per se. I’m taking what was offered to me by the lovely Olga.’ Lovejoy grinned.
Amber glared.
‘Oh come on, Amber,’ he said, pushing a hand through his hair. She focused on his arrow tattoo as he spoke. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You’d have done the same. We’ve fought for jobs before. It’s fair game.’ He shook his head. ‘Anyway, I don’t see why you care. You
always go on about how much better you are than me, so what are you worried about?’
Amber scoffed, trying to tramp down any emotion. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, Lovejoy, I’m not worried.’
‘Well what’s your problem then?’ he snapped, clearly confused because this wasn’t the way their relationship usually worked. It was normally just banter.
Amber couldn’t answer. She was upset that Emerald House were looking elsewhere but more so that they had chosen him and he had agreed. At every turn he seemed to live up to expectation, but she realised, that was what people did.
There was silence.
The heat rose from the concrete pavement, the metal table glimmered. A wasp landed on a discarded crisp.
Lovejoy stood, hands in his pockets, face taut.
Both Julia and Martin seemed to be trying to make themselves as small and inconspicuous as possible.
Amber took a breath in through her nose and told herself off for getting annoyed but she couldn’t shake the feeling, like a shallow hurt had flooded her body and refused to let her perk up. ‘There’s no problem,’ she said, voice annoyingly flat.
A young, sullen waitress came to clear away all the dirty wrappers on the table.
Lovejoy bit the inside of his lip as they waited for the waitress to finish. Julia helped scrunch up the rubbish.
When the waitress had gone, Lovejoy said sulkily, ‘So is that it now, you’re pissed off?’
‘Yeah, maybe I am pissed off.’ Amber turned to face him. ‘And we’d better stop talking because we’re basically in competition now. So bye bye.’ She waved her hand to shoo them away.
Lovejoy huffed, ‘I don’t need this. Come on, Martin, let’s go.’
Amber narrowed her eyes and watched as Lovejoy stalked away. Martin following with a sheepish little wave to Julia. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he whispered.
Julia smiled quietly in return.
Lovejoy raised a hand without turning round. ‘See you at the start line, Amber.’
‘Yeah,’ Amber called after him. ‘You can pick up the scraps we leave you, Lovejoy.’
He laughed, loud and booming. ‘In your dreams,’ he said, having seemingly recovered his laissez-faire composure and turning to walk backwards a couple of paces added, ‘We’re going to wipe the floor with you! And you,’ he said, pointing to Julia, ‘I’ll see in the bar.’ Then he turned again, grin as wide as his face, and swaggered away.
Julia was blushing wildly for having been singled out for Lovejoy’s attention.
Amber watched as they got into their van. Martin was in the driver’s seat, hair pulled up into a bun on the top of his head. Lovejoy was lounging, knee crossed over ankle, attention back on his phone, one arm extended out the window. Immediately relaxed and OK with the world while Amber seethed. As they pulled out of their space, Lovejoy glanced up and deigned a casual wave in their direction.
The van sped off into the burning heat of the motorway.
Amber immediately unwrapped the cellophane on the cigarettes. She pulled out the tab and got a fag out, holding it between her fingers as she dialled Billy’s number. Thrumming her fingers on the hot metal table top.
Julia said, ‘Are you calling Billy? What are you going to say?’
Amber ignored her. Billy answered.
‘Hey, Billy, we made it.’ She smiled into the phone as she talked, trying to sound upbeat. ‘By the skin of our teeth.’
Next to her, Julia was listening, her hands clasped neatly in her lap.
Amber walked a couple of paces away towards the river. ‘Listen, I’m sorry I couldn’t talk properly before. I know this must be such a shock and I’m sorry you had to find out from your dad.’
‘Except he’s not my dad,’ said Billy down the phone. She imagined his face, all cross and frowning. He’d push his glasses up his nose.
‘Well he is, Billy,’ said Amber, watching the ducks dipping up in the water, their white bums waggling in the air. ‘He’s the best dad you’ve got. And you’ve had a great life with him. He’s given you a great life and been a great father. Still is a great father.’
‘I know that,’ said Billy.
Amber sucked her bottom lip in. Julia watched her like a wary conscience. She had always intended to lie and say she didn’t know who the real father was, tell Billy she’d had a one-night stand with a stranger. If only she’d realised that Ned would waver, then she could have told him herself before he went travelling. She could have managed the message as Julia said. All Amber could see now was Lovejoy’s grinning face as he’d walked back towards his van. She couldn’t let this escalate. For the good of all of them.
She took another step away from Julia’s earshot.
‘Well the thing is, Billy, I don’t actually know who your real father is.’
There was silence on the other end of the line. Amber looked down at her boots. It was too hot here. She hated the heat.
Billy said, ‘I don’t believe you.’
Amber bristled. ‘Well, there’s nothing I can say to that, is there?’
It was silent again. The ducks quacked and splashed. A pigeon ate a stray bit of Amber’s baguette.
All she could think about was how Billy’s skin smelt when she kissed him goodnight as he slept. When she stood over him watching when he didn’t know, when he couldn’t shove her away with a grin as she dragged him into a hug, when he didn’t politely have to tell her that he didn’t need help with his homework because she knew that he knew that she didn’t know the answers. How she would stroke his hair across his forehead so she could see his face, usually hidden by his glasses and his long black fringe. How desperately she didn’t want to lose that.
‘You really don’t know?’ Billy asked.
‘No, I really don’t know,’ said Amber.
There was another pause.
‘Fine,’ said Billy, curtly.
‘OK,’ Amber replied, trying not to show her relief, glancing down at the cigarette in her hand and scrunching it into a ball. ‘We can talk about it more when you get home.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Bye.’
‘Bye, darling.’ She looked at the phone for a second, then out at the water, taking a deep breath of the tangy river-scented air.
Then as if nothing had happened, she went back to the table and scooped up her bag and the bottle of water, leaving the packet of fags for whoever ate there next. Without quite meeting Julia’s eye, she said, ‘Let’s go. It’s still a long drive.’
Julia gathered her stuff and hurried alongside.
The van handles were hot to touch, the metal of the door scorching.
‘You’re not going to tell Lovejoy?’ Julia asked as they climbed into their seats, the pervading smell of melted chocolate and hot leather.
Amber started the engine. ‘He’s an arsehole, Julia. He’s always been an arsehole.’ She reversed out of the space. A car beeped its horn because Amber had cut in front of them. The sun was beating down hard through the windscreen, prisms of light scalding their skin. ‘He left me just after my dad died, did you know that? If that’s not arsehole enough then I don’t know what is. I can’t tell him about Billy,’ she said, heading out on the motorway, vehemently shaking her head. ‘He doesn’t deserve to know.’ She glanced at Julia. ‘I can’t tell him.’
Julia was nodding. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘OK, I understand. I agree, that sounds fair enough.’
Amber nodded. She reached forward and turned on the radio. Good, she thought. Good. She was right. Julia had agreed. She tried to ignore the mocking identikit pompom, currently dancing in her eye view as Julia dug around for something in her handbag. And the fact that when Julia had been round at theirs teaching Billy how to kill the crab, she’d alluded to the fact her workplace personality test had categorised her under the heading ‘People Pleaser’ making her wholly unsuitable for the job of sticking a screwdriver into a fridge-numbed crustacean.
No, she had definitely agreed with Amber because Amber was right, not because Julia
agreed with people to please them. Amber was right. That was it. Done. Amber could box it up and move on.
Chapter Ten
They drove on steadily for another two hours. The van rumbling along in the relatively traffic-free fast lane. Julia had her legs tucked up underneath her. Amber would reach an arm up to the van ceiling every now and then to stretch. They ate Tunnock’s Caramel Wafer bars and Aero Bubbles. They started googling answers to the crossword to help them along. They listened to the radio and various podcasts of Amber’s about antique dealing, interior design and forgery-spotting techniques. Julia dropped off occasionally. There was only so much lulling drone she could take on the difference between Bakelite and Celluloid.
The only thing not discussed was anything of a personal nature. As if they’d signed some silent treaty, both aware that any question asked would have to be reciprocated. Alternatively, it was that Julia was too afraid to ask Amber anything and Amber was too wrapped up in her own predicament to question Julia.
Whatever the case, Julia spent a lot of time staring out the window at the French countryside. Noticing the differences. The flatness, the vastness, the yellow of the fields and the hazy brightness of the evening sky.
It made her remember a holiday she hadn’t thought of in years, of coming to France with Charlie the summer after they had left university. They had taken a tent and their sleeping bags and jumped on a Ryanair flight at the most unsociable time for less than fifty quid. Charlie had wanted to hitchhike but Julia had thought it was too dangerous. Instead they had bought a couple of rusty bikes from a junk shop and cycled and got the bus around the Dordogne. When it rained and soaked their belongings they had moved from camping to stay in little hotels. She remembered sitting in a French café, and musing, ‘The light really is different here,’ and Charlie rolling his eyes, and saying, ‘I just don’t get that. How can light be different? Light is light.’ He’d gestured to the horizon adding, ‘It’s exactly the same!’
