I glance across at David. He’s looking at me curiously.
Max points at me. ‘Hang on a minute. Let me ask you a question. Who do you dress for?’
‘Myself.’
‘No you don’t. You dress for attention. Why vintage clothes, though? Why not go to Primark?’
I’m not sure if he’s spoiling for a fight or just trying to keep the conversation going. ‘What difference does it make?’
He laughs. ‘Exactly! You can’t tart up a relationship in some nice clothes and hope that it’ll look fine. It doesn’t work like that. The outward appearance is a sham. It’s what’s underneath that counts.’
‘You sound like my ex-boyfriend.’
He grins. ‘Aren’t you getting the message?’
Gigi’s giggling, too. ‘So you spent the whole time naked?’
I nod. It is a funny story. We’re all laughing.
‘Yes, we both did.’ I add, ‘And he got horribly sunburnt.’
‘But apart from the nakedness,’ David says, deadpan, ‘how was the holiday?’
We’re still laughing and I’m wiping away tears because the whole thing seems so bizarre, looking back. I take another mouthful of wine to sober up. Swallow it. When I put the glass down, David’s still watching me with that slight head tilt and warmth in his eyes.
‘So, this naturist place,’ Alexa begins, and then suddenly the doorbell rings and we all spring into action.
Max collects together the money that he’s conscientiously worked out will cover the pizzas, plus a tip, David uncorks some more bottles, Gigi dims the lights, someone puts music on and the wine looks black in the subdued light.
We eat the pizzas out of the boxes and the volume of conversation gets louder, seeming to echo off the wooden floors and bounce against the windows until it seems to me that we’re all shouting at each other across the table, roaring with laughter. Jenna excuses herself and takes the children to bed.
Like the wine in my glass, the wine in the bottles seems to have drained suddenly, now half full, now empty. I’m astonished by how quickly it’s being drunk.
While Jenna’s gone Gigi moves seats, so now she’s sitting next to Max, winding spiral strands of her pink hair around her finger.
Alexa comes to sit next to me, tilting her wineglass at a reckless angle. ‘Amazing place, isn’t it? Special. Cost David an absolute fortune to hire, according to Max.’
‘It’s fabulous,’ I agree.
She lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘You know why we’re here, don’t you?’ She moves in really close. ‘Come here. Listen. Shh. Tomorrow, Dave’s going to propose to Gigi. Don’t say anything,’ she says, slapping me on the arm. ‘It’s a secret.’
Gutted by the news, I press my finger against my lips to prove my sincerity. ‘I won’t say a word,’ I promise.
‘That’s the spirit,’ Alexa says, looking into my eyes intently. ‘It’s a surprise. But I think Gigi knows. Do you think she knows?’
I look across at Gigi. She’s laughing at something that Max is saying, head thrown back, enjoying herself. ‘Maybe. She does look happy, doesn’t she?’
‘You know why I think she knows?’
‘No.’
‘Because she’s hired a photographer. She wants him to be there to capture the moment.’
‘She definitely knows,’ I say enviously, taking another look at Gigi. ‘Wow.’ If I knew that David was going to propose to me, I’d be laughing like a drain, too.
This new revelation makes me feel intensely sad. I want to go to bed now and hide my head under the pillow. My bag is in the boot of the car, along with Gigi’s gift: the black velvet cloak wrapped in pink tissue. I excuse myself and go outside to get my things, concentrating on walking straight, noisily crushing the gravel in the quiet night, then I take them to my room.
I can hear Jenna talking to her children in a room on the ground floor. Through the window the house next door looms pale against the polished still water and I draw the curtains, brush my teeth, drink water from the tap and lie on the bed, feeling my ribs, checking that my bruised heart is still beating beneath them. I close my eyes and the room revolves.
The noise level coming from the lounge is off the scale, so after a few minutes I give up trying to sleep and get up again. When I come back to the table Gigi’s still staring at Max and Alexa’s leaning in my pizza box, eyes closed, propping up her head, a smear of tomato smudged on her forearm.
I fill up my glass and take it outside. The glitter-scattered night sky looks huge and black, and I stand still for a moment in the silence, which has a blessed sound of its own.
As if I’m in a dream, I hear someone else coming out into the peaceful dark and I know without turning around that it’s David. He comes to stand next to me. ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he says softly.
Back in the house, raised voices; there’s an argument going on, political not personal.
‘You’ve found me,’ I say, without turning around. I feel as if I’m reading from a film script; this is the way it’s meant to be.
It’s so dark that the lake is like a deep hole, the quarry that it used to be, and the stars line the bottom of it, mined silver.
As if he’s reading my mind, he says, ‘It’s a celestial sphere.’
‘That’s poetic,’ I breathe.
He laughs. ‘But not original.’
‘This is an amazing place.’ At this moment, I have never been anywhere so profoundly wonderful in my whole life.
‘Yes. Gigi chose it.’ He adds, ‘Before I left my job, obviously. Anyway, that’s what I want to talk to you about.’ He looks towards the lake. He’s quiet for a moment.
I know what he’s going to say. He’s going to tell me the whole Gigi thing is a horrible mistake. I look up at him hopefully, untangling a strand of hair from my eyelashes.
He says, ‘I’ve got a bigger unit in the Stables yard, from next Wednesday. Setting up every day is a major hassle. But I like the atmosphere and I’ve got a product that sells, and that’s the bottom line, isn’t it? The product.’
I frown, because hang on, that wasn’t in my script. I look at him over my wine glass, feeling a pang of separation anxiety. I don’t want it to end. I was happy to settle for just being friends and seeing him every day. I suppress my disappointment and conceal my despair. ‘I understand. It’s been lovely having you as my neighbour.’
‘Same.’ He turns to me and in the dark, his eyes are as black as the lake. ‘This is the thing. I was thinking, maybe you and Moss could take half the unit and we could share the rent.’
I hold my wind-tangled hair away from my face and look at him. ‘Seriously?’
He returns my look with a calm expression of his own. ‘Take your time. Think about it.’
I don’t have to. YES! YES! YES! Even though I’m not used to making spur-of-the-moment decisions, and I’ve been taught to write down the pros and cons and think carefully before taking any action. Even though I’ve never been impulsive.
So, I ask myself, what’s different this time?
Him, that’s what. I can’t deny it. He’s the incentive.
The future that David has got mapped out looks as real as a mirage and I’m scared to test it, but I’m excited all the same, because this isn’t the end, this is the future, and I’m still in it.
My gaze drifts to his hand holding his beer, the light from the house silvering the glass, and I imagine how that hand would feel if he reached out and brushed my hair away from my face – my breath comes in a jerk.
See? This is exactly the reason that sharing a unit is a bad, bad idea. But hey! I’m the master of self-control! I mean – despite provocation, both my parents are still alive, so that tells you something.
‘You’ve gone quiet,’ he says.
‘I’d love to share a unit,’ I reply.
David laughs; which is lucky because it came out more intense than I’d intended. He punches me gently on the shoulder. ‘Good old Fern,’ he says warmly,
then he turns around and goes back inside the house.
Good old Fern.
Hell, I’m an idiot.
I wake up late the next morning to the riotous sound of the children racing each other along the decking outside my window. I keep my eyes shut and try to block out the noise. My thumbnails hurt like crazy. The nail bed is blue and bruised. I stare at them for a moment, baffled. Then I remember Gigi and I putting up a futile hunt for the corkscrew and me impressively doing my student party trick of pushing the cork into the bottle, to applause.
David’s words crowd in on me bleakly. Good old Fern. What’s that supposed to mean? Oh, I know what it means all right. I’m the girl next door, that’s what.
I open the drapes and the children are pattering back along the decking, shouting and swathed in towels: two blond boys, a taller, older boy in glasses and a little girl with dark wild hair in a neon pink swimsuit following behind. The little girl stops suddenly and a look of painful disbelief distorts her face. She falls on her bottom, crying loudly, and picks up her foot to look at it.
I wait for someone to respond but the house is quiet, so I grab my robe and open the door to the decking, go outside to help her up.
She stops crying immediately she sees me and looks at me with great suspicion.
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Fern. What’s your name?’
‘Lola.’
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
She shakes her head. ‘Something pinched me.’
‘Shall I have a look?’
She shows me her foot and I can see a dark splinter under the pink skin of her soft, water-wrinkled sole.
It looks like a job for the experts. ‘Shall I get your mum?’
She frowns. ‘She’s not Mum, she’s Mummy,’ she says firmly, getting suspicious again.
I can see the end of the splinter jutting out of the skin. ‘I can probably get it out myself.’
‘Is it a pinch?’
I give her my diagnosis. ‘It’s only a very small pinch.’
She turns and lies on her tummy then bends her legs back. I hold her foot and grip the splinter with my nails and it comes out easily, in one piece. ‘All done.’
‘Let me see it,’ she commands.
‘Hold out your hand.’ I put the sliver of wood in the palm of her hand.
She looks at it closely for a moment and then looks up at me, nodding. She runs back into the house, cupping it carefully, to show.
I swallow a couple of paracetamol, shower and get dressed in shorts and a halterneck top, with a flowery broderie anglaise smocked dress over the top. I grab Gigi’s birthday gift, negotiate the children’s game of tag in the hall and go to the kitchen.
A bunch of shiny helium balloons is tied to a chair and birthday cards are propped up on the table.
Jenna’s dressed and drying some mugs. Gigi’s wearing David’s flowery shirt from the day before and spooning instant coffee into two mugs. Her hair is tied in a spiral with a wired velvet band.
‘Morning,’ she says brightly.
‘Morning. Happy birthday! Tah-dah!’
‘Ooh! For me?’ She puts the spoon down, tears the pink tissue off and holds up the velvet cloak with the shocking-pink lining. ‘Gorgeous.’ She puts it on, poses for a moment and rubs her cheek against the raised collar. ‘Fern, I love it!’
Jenna switches on the kettle. ‘Sorry about the kids this morning. I told them to amuse themselves, but I was hoping they’d do it less loudly. What time did you guys go to bed?’
‘Four-ish,’ Gigi said. ‘Dave and I were in the hot tub.’
Dave and I were in the hot tub. I’m so jealous, the words stab me in the heart.
I begin to think irrational thoughts. She doesn’t appreciate him. She doesn’t understand him. There are two half-eaten pieces of toast and jam on the worktop. I absently start to eat one and Lola comes running over.
She puts her hands on her hips, full of indignation. ‘That’s my toast!’
‘Sorry, I thought you’d finished.’
Like a baby bird, she opens her mouth to be fed and I push a piece of toast inside. She snaps her mouth shut and runs back into the hall.
Jenna yells, ‘Stop running!’ She looks at the time – it’s just gone eleven. ‘Don’t let her eat any more, we’re having lunch at twelve.’
At the mention of lunch, Gigi gives a shiver and hugs the cloak around herself with delightful anticipation, her eyes gleeful.
I smile back. She’s so happy, it’s hard to hate her.
‘I’m going to get changed,’ she says. ‘Could you take this coffee for Dave? He’s outside. Do you want milk in yours?’
I take the coffees out. David’s wearing a lemon shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I sit next to him in the rattan chair. The cushion’s damp. A breeze rustles the reeds. He’s looking at his phone and balancing a plate of toast on his bare, tanned knee.
‘Morning, Fern,’ he says cheerfully.
‘Morning.’ He’s so lovely and being with him feel so right. If I were Gigi I’d love him for his sheer loveliness and I wouldn’t care if he was boring at all.
We’re sitting in shadow, with the sun behind the house. Across the water, the other houses curve, solemn and empty, no signs of life.
Putting the phone in his shirt pocket, David says, ‘Watch this.’ He energetically flings a piece of bread skywards over the lake and a flock of dazzling white gulls appears, diving and screeching against the deep blue sky. They’re tearing it apart in midair and the lucky winner wheels away with the largest share while the others crash-land in the water and scramble to take their share of the crumbs. It’s very entertaining. David waits until they all scatter and the sky’s empty then he flings another piece in the air and they instantly reappear and do their aerobatics all over again.
Makes me laugh.
David looks at me and grins, and I can see the creases around his eyes. ‘Fun, huh?’
‘Really fun,’ I agree.
Getting ready for lunch is a major operation.
I can see Jenna bending over Lola. She straightens up. ‘Don’t move – you need suntan lotion on. Where’s your dress? What did you do with your dress?’ She goes outside and comes back with a little white linen dress. ‘Arms up!’ She pulls it over her head.
‘I’ve got the suntan lotion,’ Alexa says. ‘You want me to do it?’
Lola jumps up and down on the spot. ‘Yes, please!’
I feel exactly what I am – very much the outsider – when Jenna hands me my bag.
‘Come on, Fern, let’s get a head start on them,’ she says, straightening her shorts around her slim thighs. ‘Alexa, you’re in charge of the kids, we’re going to bagsy the table.’ She puts a baseball cap over her cropped fair hair and we leave the house and walk together down the drive, waving to the gateman.
‘Bloody madhouse,’ she says cheerfully.
I’m still preoccupied by the little girl. ‘Your daughter’s cute.’
‘She is, isn’t she? But boys are easier,’ she says. ‘More straightforward, don’t you think? I think males tend to be more straightforward, generally. That’s why I could never seriously date a woman; I couldn’t take the twenty-four-hour angst. Of course, men are less emotionally evolved than women, so there’s that to consider.’
I laugh. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’
‘A little bit of A, a little bit of B. Ben, my husband, hates these get-togethers, which is why he didn’t come last night. Said he had to work. He’s shy. He’d happily live his life with just him, the boys and a cricket bat. Ben doesn’t realise that my genes are in the mix. Given the technology, he’d have had them cloned from himself.’
‘Is he coming today?’
‘He’s meeting us at the pub. I told him we’d be there before twelve. He’s going to think we’ve forgotten all about him.’
We cross the road and go down onto the footpath. Jenna checks her Fitbit to check her step count. ‘We’ve got to be bac
k by three because the photographer’s coming. Have you known Gigi long?’
‘We were at school together, briefly.’ I dodge a piece of overgrown bramble. ‘How about you guys?’
‘Alexa and I go to Gigi’s Pilates class.’
We turn around, hearing voices behind us. David’s striding towards us with Lola on his shoulders, a heavy green sports bag bumping against his hip.
‘Wait for us!’ they yell.
Jenna nudges me. ‘Run,’ she says, and we leg it as far as a gate then crouch down behind a hedgerow, giggling and waiting for them to get close. Then we spring out and David roars and Lola screams. They chase us all the way to the pub car park, where a man’s sitting at a large table in the beer garden with a reserved sign on it. Jenna collapses, giggling, next to him and kisses him so hard on the mouth that her baseball cap falls off.
Ben is dark-haired, wearing a Tommy Hilfiger navy-and-white striped shirt, a black waistcoat and jeans. He’s got black-rimmed glasses and three days’ growth of stubble and he gets up when he sees us, but he has eyes only for Jenna.
‘Did you see the chocolate I bought you?’
‘You bought me chocolate?’ she asks with delight. ‘Galaxy?’
‘No, Minstrels. I hid them in the case.’
‘Did you?’ She kisses him. ‘Oh, Minstrels! I love Minstrels!’
Honestly, I’ve never felt more horribly single in my whole life. David hoists Lola from his shoulders.
‘What you want to drink?’ he asks her.
‘Apple juice, please.’
‘Good girl. Fern?’
‘White wine, please, any sort,’ I say obligingly, looking at my reflection in his shades.
‘Get a Budweiser for Ben and I’ll have a white wine, too,’ Jenna says.
‘Where are the boys?’ Ben asks.
‘They’re coming with Alexa. They’ll be here in a minute.’
Ben’s eyes sweep over my face momentarily and he glances quickly at Jenna. I remember that he’s shy, so I introduce myself and explain that Gigi and I knew each other at school, that David and I have adjacent stalls in the market, and that I came because the party sounded exciting.
A Random Act of Kindness Page 18
