Falling in Love Again (15 page)

She could just imagine Caroline’s reaction. ‘You did ask for references, didn’t you?’ she’d say.

Was it too late? Rebecca’s pushiness had taken her by surprise so she’d completely forgotten. Maybe she’d send her a text in the morning. What time was it now? Gone eleven but she wasn’t sleepy. Then she had an idea. At first it seemed silly but somehow, the more she thought about it, the more attractive it became. Trying not to wake up Clive, she tiptoed down to the kitchen, unplugged the small portable which  generally sat next to the microwave and brought it upstairs. Then she went down again and came up once more, this time with a bowl of Frosties.

It was like having a midnight feast at the age of twelve when Caroline had split on her to their parents.

But actually, thought Alison, as she merrily munched the Frosties and watched a late night chat show on a digital channel that she normally never watched, it was strangely liberating. Exactly the sort of thing she would never have done if David had been at home.

Not the phone? At this time of night? As she pressed the green button, she could see now that there had been a missed call from Ross. And another. And a third.

‘Mum?’

Her son’s voice was urgent. Charged with energy.

‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Where have you been?’

‘Out with . . . just out. What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Jules. Don’t freak out. She’s not hurt. But she’s here. With me.’

In London?

‘She’s chucked in her course. Didn’t like it. Look, it’s too late to talk about it now. I’ll get her to ring you in the morning.’

20

KAREN

She’d called the evening ‘HOW ARE YOU DOING?’ It was meant to be a catch up session where everyone told the others how they were getting on and passed on any tips.

But somehow it wasn’t going according to plan. Alison had been telling them about a daughter dropping out of uni and a new lodger. Lizzie (oh dear – another new haircut which suited her less than the previous one) had confessed to a pretend date at 8pm although really, it was a work appointment at 8am, to make her husband think she had a boyfriend. But Karen had a feeling she might have got that bit wrong. Since her visit to Doris the other week, she just hadn’t been herself.

She hadn’t realised her mother-in-law knew The Secret. A secret which she hadn’t intended to start that way but had just grown somehow. After she had left Paul, they had both felt so awful that neither of them had had the energy to see a solicitor. It wasn’t as though either wanted to be with anyone else. And somehow, over the years, a divorce didn’t seem necessary.

‘It’s because, subconsciously, love, you don’t want to cut the ties,’ Doris had said triumphantly.

Was that true? Was that why she had never been able to have a long-term relationship because she was still married and felt it was wrong?

As for meeting up with Paul again, however, it was out of the question. ‘He hurt me. Really hurt, Doris. It’s taken me years to get through it and I’m scared I’ll fall down that black hole again.’

‘I know.’ Her mother-in-law had taken her hands then; her cold paper-thin skin burning her conscience. ‘But Paul’s been in a bad place too. And he says he can’t get out till he’s made his peace.’

‘Not ill, is he?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘What do you mean?’

Doris had sat back in her white plastic chair and closed her eyes briefly. Why did old age take away your eyelids? ‘He’s not got cancer, if that’s what you mean, luv.’

Thank God for that. If he did, she’d have to see him and besides, despite everything, she didn’t like the thought of Paul actually dying.

‘It’s as though my husband has lost all his feelings.’ Alison’s voice jerked her back to the present.’ What do you think, Karen?’

‘Sorry.’ Suddenly conscious of several eyes focussed on her in her small sitting room stuffed full of extra chairs that she’d had to haul downstairs from the bedrooms,  she felt like a fraud. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache tonight, I’m afraid, and I began thinking of something else.’

Honesty was always the best policy. Well, usually. But now, something that looked like disappointment flickered across Alison’s face. ‘I  just don’t understand how David could have lived a double life.’

‘Actors do it all the time,’ sniffed Violet who was wearing yet another of her voluminous caftans, this time with a matching turban.

‘A bit of generalisation, surely?’ said the new man, Hugh.

He was the only one whose face had betrayed him when he’d come in through her little front door and looked around at the faded rug which she’d never been able to get rid of and which was actually worth quite a lot of money. Too late she wished she’d cancelled the meeting until the Memorial Hall was available again. She’d done her best to make it nice with lavender sticks and peppermint tea but even so.

Violet began sniffing. ‘Can I smell a dog?’

She flushed. ‘Three actually.’

As though to provide evidence, one of the puppies began to yelp from the kitchen. She was only surprised they hadn’t done so earlier; really, they’d been incredibly good.

‘I work at the local paper in the classified ads section, you see. And someone had to get rid of their puppies. If I hadn’t taken them, no one would have and they might have . . .’

She stopped, unable to voice the horrible reality. Some people were so cruel.

‘I’ve found homes for all except one.’ She looked around. ‘I don’t suppose any of you would like to take one on. They’re lab/springers. Lovely natures although a bit lively.’

To her disappointment, they all shook their heads, including Alison, whose own dog had died the other month. Still, it was worth trying. That’s what Doris had said when she’d told her mother-in-law gently that she was sorry but she really couldn’t see Paul. Maybe next year or the year after but not just now. Not when she had got her life back together again.

‘Wouldn’t mind having a go on your piano, though.’ Violet glanced at Ed meaningfully. ‘We often had a singsong in between takes.’

And before she had time to nod, Violet was sitting on the piano stool, her ample bottom spreading over the seat. Someone snorted quietly (Hugh?) and someone else giggled (Lizzie?). But then those podgy, white fingers began to move across the keys and there was a stunned silence.

Violet could play! Really play. It sounded like Chopin but whatever it was, it was spellbinding. And then, just as she was going to say ‘How amazing’, it changed. Suddenly, she had launched into something else. Something completely different that got them all laughing – even Hugh whom, she’d decided, could be a bit stuffy. She wondered what he did. A banker maybe. Definitely something financial.

‘Come on then!’ Violet half turned round on the piano stool. ‘Join in everyone.’

Memories of an old record that her father used to play, came flooding back. Alison and Hugh seemed to know the words too but not Ed or Lizzie. Maybe it was an age thing.

And before she knew it, the whole ‘HOW ARE YOU DOING?’ evening seemed to end on a pretty good note even though she had almost let everyone down.

It wouldn’t happen again, she told herself firmly as she carried the empty coffee  mugs back into the kitchen after they’d all gone. Next time, she’d concentrate. Stop thinking about her own problems.

‘Time for supper, boys!’

The puppies were all around her now, jostling and pushing each other by her legs. ‘Careful, I’ll trip! One at a time, now!’

It was just like having a big family! The kind she’d always dreamed of. Silence – apart from the slurping – for a few blissful minutes until they’d finished and  were scavenging for bits; anything that was edible. Still, it was lovely! They’d brought so much energy into her life although they couldn’t stay here forever!

‘Mum?’

‘Adam, darling. Didn’t hear you come in.’

He gave her a quick hug. ‘Has your lonely hearts group gone now?’

‘Don’t call them that, dear. I was in their position once.’

He cast a look at a puppy puddle on the floor. ‘Like I said, Mum. I’d have thought you had enough on your plate.’

‘Bit of a mess isn’t it. Whoops. There goes another. Pass me the disinfectant and the loo roll, will you?’

She laughed at Adam’s face. He’d always been a bit squeamish. ‘To be honest, Mum, I wanted a word. About Hayley.’

A horrible cold feeling shot through her.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘She won’t tell me. She’s so distant and quiet but when I’ve asked her what’s wrong, she says I’m imagining it.’

He shot her a
‘help me’
look, like he had when he was a little boy. ‘Don’t suppose she’d told you anything, has she, Mum? I know how close you two are.’

Tell him, tell him.
But then again . . .

‘Sorry.’ She turned her back, pretending to top up one of the puppy’s water even though it was full already. ‘Maybe she’s just tired. Give her time. Take Josh out a bit to give her a break.’

‘But I’ve done that and it’s not helping.’ The panic in his voice was beginning to rise. ‘I was wondering, Mum. Could you have a word? See what’s eating her. It would really help.’

‘If you think so.’ She bit her lip. ‘Actually, Adam, I’ve got something to run past you. Have you seen your dad recently?’

A dark look crossed his face. ‘Not since before Josh was born. And I don’t even know where he lives. Those letters he sent me, they came through Gran.’

‘He wants to see me.’

‘Is that why Gran wanted to speak to you?’

She nodded.

‘Well she shouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have passed on the message if I’d known. You’re not going to, are you?’

‘I don’t want to. But I feel I should.’ She swallowed. ‘I’ve a feeling he’s in trouble.’

‘What kind of trouble?’

‘I don’t know. I said I didn’t want anything to do with him but now I’m not sure.’

Adam was kneeling down to stroke one of the puppies. The look on his face was so tender that she wanted to cry. Her son was a brilliant dad. And he should have had the chance to have another child.

‘I can’t tell you what to do, Mum. I really can’t.’

Of course he couldn’t. She was the adult here.  Karen felt in her pocket for her blue stone. She had to make up her own mind.

‘Ten bantams. Non-layers.’

Was there no end to the world’s stupidity? What stopped a bantam from laying? What made a woman decide she didn’t want her child? No. Stop. Right there.

Yesterday’s ads were still swimming round her head as Karen made her way to the market square. Saturday lunchtime was a crazy time to meet anyone in town where there wasn’t any parking at the best of times. Why not after work one evening? But Paul had been insistent. It had to be Saturday. No other day would do. Outside Marks & Spencer in a nearby town she didn’t often go into. By the middle doors. At 12.45pm. On the dot.

To her annoyance, she had dressed with care. Not the blue trousers which were too smart even though they made her waist look . . . well, not too bad. Not the red skirt which he wouldn’t like because he’d always said red didn’t suit her. In the end, she’d gone for black trousers and, even though it was cold, a long cardigan coat-jacket instead of her bulky winter coat which was much more sensible for the weather. Hayley had given her the cardigan last Christmas and everyone said it suited her.

Who, she asked herself angrily, was she trying to impress? Herself so she could come back and say it hadn’t hurt at all to see him. Or Paul so he would go away, thinking he’d made a big mistake in letting her go.

Heavens above! There he was. Almost exactly the same except that his moustache had gone grey and his hair was shorter. But that boyish expression was still there and the way he tilted his head questioningly with his eyes fixed on hers just like they had been on that first night when they’d met in the pub, during her first year in London while temping after her degree, and he’d suggested she got rid of the boyfriend and had a drink with him instead.

‘Karen!’

He walked briskly towards her, smiling. Wait! There was something different. Not just that he was thinner. It was his eyes. They had lost that confident brashness. They were worried. She could see that now. Worried that she might not have come. No aura – at least none she could see.

‘Paul.’ There was an awkward moment as they stood in front of each other not sure whether to brush cheeks. She moved away first. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘No problem.’ He spoke so fast that she knew it had been. He hadn’t been sure she would turn up and the knowledge made her feel superior in a way she’d never felt before. ‘I’ve booked a table at Café Rouge. Is that all right with you?’

His pre-planning – which jarred with that anxious look in his eyes – threw her. But somehow, she found herself walking next to him as though they were one of the many married couples thronging the town on an ordinary bit of Saturday shopping. Just as they had done, another lifetime ago.

Now he was taking her cardigan coat-jacket, pulling out the chair for her to sit down, asking what she wanted to drink (‘the usual?’) and making sure she had the menu first. But still something wasn’t right; something on top of this new-found chivalry. Maybe he had arthritis, wondered Karen. He was so stiff. So awkward and he kept looking around as though someone might be watching them.

‘So Karen, how have you been?’

All the words that had been flying round her head since Doris had asked her to come; all the accusations; all the recriminations . . . everything seemed to disappear out of her head. ‘It’s been hard.’

She spoke in a quieter voice, feeling strangely controlled now she could feel the blue stone in her pocket. She stroked it for comfort. That was better.

He nodded quickly. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’

She paused as the waitress arrived with their drinks. Water? He was ordering water for himself?

He nodded with a rueful smile. ‘Haven’t drunk anything for years now.’

Was this an act? Like the pulling out of the chair?

‘Believe me, Karen, if I could turn back the clock, I would.’

This was too much. ‘It’s too late, Paul. The damage has been done. I’ve moved on. I had to. And I’m OK.’

He nodded. ‘Do you have someone?’

‘Sort of.’

Why confess that she didn’t have anyone at the moment?

‘He’s a lucky man then.’

‘Paul, don’t do this. Just tell me what you want and then I’ll go.’

His eyes winced as though hurt. ‘I wanted to know how you were doing.’