Falling in Love Again (18 page)

Jack nodded approvingly. ‘Mum took
ages
to choose it.’

‘The recipe,’ she butted in. ‘I wasn’t sure which one to pick.

‘Makes a change from her usual cooking.’ Sophie gave her sly look over the corkscrew. ‘She normally burns stuff to make sure it’s cooked properly.’

‘Well I can always burn some more if you’d like some!’

For one awful minute, Tom looked as though he was going to accept. Shit. Sorry. Sugar. She’d only bought one packet.

‘No thanks. That was very nice.’

‘Would you like coffee?’

And that’s when it got weird. As soon as she said that, it felt like she had a stranger in the house. Tom felt it too. She could tell from the way he sat on the edge of the sofa, politely admiring the silk cushions which had been a freebie from an interiors shoot.

Any minute now . . . any minute now . . .

‘I thought you might like to come round for Christmas lunch,’ she began.

‘Ah.’ Tom leaned forwards. ‘Actually, I was going to talk to you about that. Sharon . . .  that is . . .  I thought . . . ’ An expression of relief crossed his face. ‘Is that the doorbell?’

Hadn’t he lived here for long enough to recognise his own doorbell? Clearly, from the look on his face, he thought it might be Sharon The Slut, coming to see where he was. Either that or he’d swallowed a bit of the plastic fish weed. Still, bang on time. . . 

‘Can you get it?’ she said, getting up and pretending to clear away the coffee cups.

She could hear him walking towards the front door. Hear his surprised voice as he opened it, followed by Dan’s equally confused one. Nice acting!

And there he was, standing with a bottle of wine. His eyes went first to hers in a conspiratorial way and then back to Tom’s and then back to her again. ‘Hi Lizzie. Did I get the wrong night?’

23

ALISON

The London train jolted suddenly as it left the station but Alison was so deep in her thoughts that she barely noticed. Her daughter had dropped out of uni weeks ago, but was only now agreeing to see her for the first time at Ross’s flat.

If David had been here, he would have sorted it. But she still had no idea where he was, let alone whether he’d be back for Christmas next week. Well sod that. She was learning to cope by herself. Better, as Caroline had remarked the other day, than any of them expected.

‘Glad you took up my makeover idea.’

Cheek!

‘Actually, I couldn’t afford it. I just went into Boots and got a nice girl to help me.’

Caroline shrugged. Normally, she’d take this as a personal insult. Something was definitely up with her sister! She was brighter. Bouncier. Almost girl-like in that strong confident way she remembered so clearly from their teenage years. If that’s what being on your own did for you, maybe being single wouldn’t be so bad after all. In fact, now it had been three months, she was beginning to start her own rituals. Get up, make a cup of tea and take it back to bed. Eat bran flakes instead of her usual toast. All of which had been Karen’s ideas.

‘You’re probably missing the old routines of your marriage,’ she had said to them at the last meeting. And all of them, including the two men, had nodded with virtually visible lumps in their throats.

‘So create your own traditions,’ Karen had urged brightly. ‘Start doing things your way now; it’s your chance to please no one but yourself.’

Unless, of course, you had kids. Young or grown up. Still, she’d compromised. Started going round upmarket charity shops in Gerrards Cross and Amersham. Had actually found some different kinds of clothes: a pair of tight black jeans. A skinny black jumper. Why had she never done any of this before when she’d been able to afford new?

Now as the train finally wove its way into Marylebone, Alison gathered up her things. Jules hadn’t been very enthusiastic when she’d suggested meeting up for lunch at Ross’s flat but that was too bad. David might have shelved his responsibilities but she wasn’t giving up on her children. Even if they were trying to give up on her.

‘I’ve told you, Mum.’

Jules was sitting moodily on Ross’s sofa-bed, barefoot and wearing something which suggested she’d just got out of bed. Just like her breath! It was almost as bad as the smell in the bathroom where she’d gone in for one minute before deciding she’d rather hold on.

‘I didn’t like my course. It was boring.’

Boring? She’d have given anything – anything! – to have gone to uni herself. All those new people! All that learning! And at the end of it, a proper qualification that might, if she’d done one herself, have made her a more interesting person so David wouldn’t have run off.

‘If you’re so keen, do a degree yourself.’

‘And what would I live on, now your father’s abandoned me, leaving me to support myself?’ Alison heard the words snapping out of her mouth even though she had sworn to herself not to criticise David (another piece of Karen’s advice).

‘Shut up, Mum. I don’t want to hear about your squabbles. He’s just as bad. Always going on about how he couldn’t breathe at home.’

Alison sat forward on the chair, her skin tingling. ‘What do you mean? Have you spoken to him?’

Jules coloured. ‘Only on Facebook.’

David was on Facebook?

‘He sends me messages every now and then to see if I’m OK.’ Jules glared at her. ‘In fact, he thought it was a good idea chucking it all in. Said he always wished he’d read English instead of Law.’

Had he? But he’d never said . . .

‘Maybe there’s quite a lot of stuff Dad never said.’ Jules was staring at her now with that little-girl-lost look mixed with an angry
‘I’m old enough to take care of myself’
look. ‘Perhaps he was so fixed on trying to bring enough money in to run a family that he didn’t have time to think about himself.’

Alison felt her mouth going dry. ‘Is that what he said?’

Jules got up and stretched. ‘Sort of.  Don’t ask me. Ask him yourself.’

‘Have you got a phone number for him?’

Jules gave her a pitying look. ‘I’ll invite you onto Facebook if you like, as one of my friends. Then you can talk to him, I suppose. But you might not get a reply very fast. He’s gone to Goa now.’

Goa? With that woman?

‘I don’t want to talk any more. Ask him yourself.’

She’d have liked to have rung Karen to talk it over but her answerphone was on. How funny that she was the first person she wanted to share this with! But none of her friends with their Country Casual clothes and their NSPCC committee meetings would have understood. In fact, since David had left, the dinner party invitations had petered out to the occasional
‘we must meet up’
phone call from a few of them.

‘You’re a threat,’ Caroline had chuckled wryly. ‘They’re scared you’ll nick their men instead. I’ve done that myself a couple of times and it didn’t go down well.’

But now, having got back from Ross’s flat (which had been such a mess she’d had to stop herself tidying it up), she needed desperately to talk to someone. Anyone. She almost felt pleased to hear a noise from the kitchen even though it was still taking her time to get used to other people using it.

‘Hi!’

Bother. It was Rebecca, rather than Clive who was, she’d decided, actually rather easy to live with. Always polite. Always asking if she minded if he cooked a meal or if she wanted to go first. Always bringing the mugs down from his room. But Rebecca was different. She had an air about her which suggested she owned the house instead of Alison. She could sense it even from Rebecca’s back which was turned towards her, while stirring something at the Aga.

‘Did you know we’re out of milk?’

We?

‘I’ve got my milk there in the door,’  said Alison carefully.

‘Well it’s not there. And I need some for this sauce.’

The girl was talking as though it was her fault!

‘I agreed with Clive that he could keep his things in the fridge but that he’d label them so we knew whose was whose.’

‘Even milk?’

There it was! That tone again which suggested she was being petty. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit silly, Alison? I mean there are three of us in the house so we don’t all want to be buying it, do we? Tell you what. You go and buy some more – I can’t leave this sauce – and then I’ll buy the next lot. OK?’

No it wasn’t OK. But somehow she found herself walking round the corner to the newsagent where Mrs Shah was about to close up for the night. Alison liked Mrs Shah who was possibly about her own age. She and her husband worked hard to keep the shop going at a time when supermarkets and even garages were taking a lot of custom.

Alison glanced at her freshly made up face and jeans. ‘Going somewhere nice?’

The woman nodded, her face shining with excitement. ‘I’m doing a course in computer studies. At the local college. I’ve been doing it since September and I’m really loving it.’ She jerked her head towards the back of the shop where there was the sound of raised voices but not in a nasty way; more the argumentative hubble and bubble of a family eating. The smell made her feel jealously nauseous and not just for the food. ‘My husband,’ grinned Mrs Shah, ‘he moans a bit about cooking but I say it is good for him. Just one evening a week, after all.’

The local college? Alison had always been rather dismissive of it. One or two of her friends’ children had had to go there when they’d been chucked out of their expensive day schools for not getting good enough AS levels. But now, looking at Mrs Shah’s excited face, it seemed strangely attractive.

‘I don’t suppose they’ve got any spare places?

Mrs Shah shook her head. ‘Term started nearly three months ago.’

Of course it did. Silly question. Besides, what she really needed to get was a proper job from someone who wasn’t her sister. If David wasn’t coming back, she had to get her life together. Just like everyone else.

‘Do you have this week’s local paper?’

Mrs Shah eyed her quizzically, knowing perfectly well they were a
Times
family and occasionally the
Mail on Sunday
.

‘I’m looking for a job,’ added Alison, wondering why she felt bound to give an explanation.

The other woman nodded thoughtfully. ‘I haven’t seen Mr David for some time.’

‘No.’

They looked at each other and Alison could see the unasked question in Mrs Shah’s face.

‘If you are looking for employment,’ she finally said gently, ‘this is the best paper to look at.’

Alison pretended to rustle in her bag for change in order to hide her expression. ‘Thanks,’ she said, coming up with a couple of pound coins. ‘Thanks very much.’

As soon as she got home she spread the Sits Vac page out in front of her.

If the likes of Mrs Shah and Karen could make their own lives, so could she! After all, there was a new year round the corner. And she was still – with any luck – young enough for a fresh start.

24

KAREN

Some people were Christmas people, thought Karen happily, and some people weren’t. Thankfully, she’d always belonged to the first category which was why, despite everything, she still got a thrill running her hands through the rack of silver and pink tinsel at her local cut price supermarket.

Maybe it was because her own parents – who had led such uncomplicated lives compared with hers! – had made such a big deal about Christmas. Money was certainly tight for the rest of the year but goodness, did they pull out the stops as soon as the beginning of December hit the calendar.

She’d done the same as soon as she’d got married and Paul had gone along with it, partly because Doris, his mum, had been the same. ‘Been saving my stamps since last year,’ she used to say. ‘If I can’t spoil my only grandson at Christmas, when can I?’

But this year was different.

Despite the tinsel sparkle and magic, it was going to be hard to pretend that everything was all right, after seeing Hayley with that man.

‘He’s just a mate at work,’ her daughter-in-law had insisted when she’d come over on the same day that Karen had seen her in the restaurant. ‘There’s nothing in it, Karen. Honest.’

She wanted to believe her! Oh how she wanted to. And surely  Hayley wasn’t the type to have an affair. But then again, who
was
the type exactly?

‘I know you saw him holding my hand.’ Hayley was staring at her, her cool hazel eyes fixed on her as though willing her to believe this story. ‘But it was because I was upset about the . . . you know.’

The baby? She’d told a ‘mate’ at work who just happened to be male, about the baby she aborted?

‘He’s a good listener.’ Hayley’s voice became even more defensive. ‘He’s been married himself and he still sees his kids.’

Been married? Karen was beginning to like this less and less.

‘I don’t mind if you want to tell Adam.’ Hayley’s eyes were still fixed on her. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’

But Karen knew instinctively that that wasn’t how Adam would see it. Far better that she said nothing. Far better that she pretended to go along with Hayley’s story so they could all have a family Christmas – with or without Paul.

That was another question to be dealt with. But not yet. First things first. ‘I’ll have three packets, please,’ she smiled at the young assistant. ‘And have you got any of those party poppers? My grandson loves those!’

By the end of the day, that lovely Christmassy glow was beginning to wear off.  It had been manic at the office with everyone wanting to sell their attic. If Karen had a pound for every seller who wanted to put in the line ‘
Would make fantastic
Christmas present’
, she wouldn’t need to do this job.

‘Course you would,’ said Sandra who worked alongside her. ‘You love it. You know you do although you ought to be careful, love. You’re becoming addicted like my sister and eBay. That reminds me. Got rid of those puppies yet?’

‘All but one.’ Karen made a little face. ‘It was so sad seeing them go but they were all good homes. Two of my neighbours actually. You don’t know anyone who wants the last little one, do you?’

‘The one who has so far chewed his way through those shoes you bought last week and managed to eat his way through your kitchen cupboards?’ Sandra laughed. ‘No thanks.’

It was true that the last puppy – Sam, she’d called him - was a bit of a handful. She had to dash back that very lunch time to take him out even though Adam and Hayley, bless them, also popped in when they could.

Josh adored him. ‘Can we keep him, Gran-nan?’

She’d thought of that herself and if it wasn’t for his taste in cats, she might have given in. But recently he’d decided it was great fun to leap on one – especially Orlando – and try to straddle him. The cats understandably were terrified. Meanwhile,  Sam was getting older and bigger. If she didn’t find a home for him soon, it would be difficult.

‘Have you put up a notice at the vet’s?’

She had but maybe she’d pop in to check it was still up. If she left early, she might just be able to do it on the way back before they closed.

‘Classifieds!’

Sandra was on her headphones again after their short coffee break. ‘Can I say who’s calling?’

They weren’t meant to get private calls at work which was why she’d told Hayley and Adam never to ring unless it was an emergency. So her heart started to pound and wouldn’t stop even when she heard Hugh’s voice which meant it was all right. Hayley hadn’t left Adam. Adam hadn’t found out about the baby. At least, not yet.

‘Karen, I’m sorry to call you at work but I needed to speak to you. Is that all right?’

Was he going to ask her out? OK, he was a bit stuffy but there was something about those rather distinguished features and the way he looked at her as though she was saying something really rather interesting. But he was in the group! So she couldn’t do what she usually did which was go out to dinner with him and then gently explain that she really was quite happy with life on her own, thank you very much because after all, she was still legally married even if they weren’t living together . . .

‘I wondered if you’d mind giving me Alison’s phone number.’

He’d rung her at work for someone else’s number? He didn’t want to ask her out? How stupid had she been?

‘I’m not sure.’ She hesitated. ‘We’re not really meant to give out numbers in the group.’

‘That’s a shame.’ Hugh gave what sounded like an exasperated sigh at the other end. ‘She’s looking for a lodger, I believe, and I think I might be able to help her.’

‘I see! Then I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’

Funny, she thought, putting down the phone and ignoring Sandra’s ‘
W
ho was
that then
?’ look. Hugh didn’t seem like the type to rent. Out of all the members, he seemed like a bit of a closed book. He still hadn’t mentioned what he did for a living or his family although he had once referred to a sister. Maybe she’d get a chance to find out more at the next meeting. There was definitely something about Hugh that was different. And maybe something about her too. Her meeting with Paul had somehow made her want to have someone. Someone who would prove to her husband that she had moved on too.

The light in the lounge was on, she noticed, walking down her road after work, even though she was sure she had turned it off that morning.

If someone had broken in, thought Karen, wondering if she was doing the right thing in opening the front door on her own, surely Sam would be making a fuss. But knowing him, he’d have licked any intruder to death or demanded that he played ball with him.

‘Mum?’

Adam!

He was sitting on the kitchen counter playing with the puppy who ran up to her excitedly, burying his nose in her legs. Adam looked a bit pale.

‘Are you ill?’

‘No. But I think Hayley might be. She’s not eating anything, Mum, and she keeps going to see the doctor but won’t tell me what’s wrong.’ He looked at her again just as he had when he was fourteen and they had left Paul. ‘Did you have that chat with her?’

Her shoulders began to sweat. ‘I tried to but she said she was just tired.’

Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

‘Maybe I’ve been going on too much about having another baby. Mind you, fat chance of that happening at the moment. She really snapped at me the other day and demanded if I had any idea what it was like to give birth.’

This was getting worse. ‘Why don’t you just leave it for a bit and wait until she’s calmer. Then have a quiet natter. I’ll have Josh if you want to go out to dinner sometime.’

‘Thanks.’

He was still frowning. ‘There’s something else too.’

There always was with Adam. So like Paul. Even now, as he was speaking, she could see the boy she fell in love with. The complicated boy who just had to touch her to make her do things she had never dreamed of.

‘Gran told me about Dad wanting to see you every now and then.’

Doris shouldn’t have said.

‘It’s hard, Mum.’ His eyes were boring into hers. ‘I know it is. Marriage isn’t easy. I know that  now. But maybe it would be nice if you did see him again. Especially at this time of the year.’

Christmas! Christmas that made you do things you should and things you shouldn’t. All because of one day where you felt you had to be perfect.

‘I’m not going to play happy families . . .’

‘I know. But we can be civilised, can’t we? Isn’t that what you were telling your group the other night. I overheard you.’

It was true. ‘All right.’ She tipped Sam’s cereal into his bowl instead of measuring it out carefully as she usually did. ‘I’ll ring him.’