Falling in Love Again (27 page)

‘But it wouldn’t be right, would it? Not so soon.’

No. No, it wouldn’t.

‘But maybe . . .’ His mouth was literally inches away from hers and she found herself almost unable to breathe.’ Maybe another time?’

As soon as she left him on the doorstep (‘No, Alison, honestly. I’d better not come in’), she knew she’d made a mistake.

Smelt it in fact.

A combination of dog, air freshener and that sweet perfume that Jules was always wearing.

‘What time do you call this?’

Her daughter was sitting at the foot of the stairs, Sam in her arms, glaring at her accusingly.

‘It’s nearly 2am, Mum. Where have you been?’

Nearly 2am? Really? She couldn’t count the number of times she’d set the alarm for 3am before going to sleep, so she could wake and then ring Jules to check she was on her way home.

‘I was on the verge of calling the police.’

Now that was ridiculous!

‘And I thought you said Sam was house-trained?’

‘He is. Most of the time.’

Alison sat next to her daughter on the bottom step. ‘Look Jules, I know this is tough for you but . . .’

‘Tough!’ Her daughter moved away. ‘You have no idea how tough it is. Dad goes and moves into some squat while you go out for dinner with some strange man. I hope you’re being careful! All I need is for you to get pregnant . . .’

Alison’s mind was still whirling. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said that all I needed was for you to get pregnant . . .’

‘No, the bit about Dad. Isn’t he still in Goa?’

‘No.’ Jules had her head buried in Sam’s fur. ‘He’s back. Living in some Georgian dump in Holloway without hot water. Pretending to be a student again. How pathetic is that?’

‘What on earth is he doing that for?’

‘Search me. Says he’s trying to discover himself. Do the things he always meant to do. Honestly Mum, you should see him! He’s grown a beard and he’s wearing jeans. Please go and see him. Talk some sense into him. I’ve got his address.’

Jules handed her a scrap of paper. ‘It’s near Highbury tube. Not far.’ Her daughter’s tough tone had suddenly become child-like again. ‘I reckon he’s having a breakdown, Mum. He’s really weird. You owe it to him to check he’s all right. Don’t you think?’

36

KAREN

Everything in her life was suddenly spiralling out of control again! How could she possibly help everyone else get back on track? It was almost a relief to discover that the loo was leaking – an excuse to cancel the meeting at her place.

Lizzie, the first person she’d rung, sounded really distraught. ‘I was so looking forward to it. There’s loads of stuff I need to tell you. How about having it at mine?’

So after a quick ring round, it was agreed. Lizzie’s house was a bit further out which meant she might have to be late, especially as she needed to wait in for Paul’s phone call. Seven-ish, he had promised. Or round about then. And no, she couldn’t ring him. Remember? It just wasn’t allowed. As it was, he’d have to queue up with his phone card and hope he didn’t have to wait too long.

Too long? What was it like inside? He had suggested that she visit but she wasn’t ready for that. Prison? It was a world she didn’t know and didn’t want to. It still seemed inconceivable that Paul could have done what he did and yet, he assured her, there were plenty of others like him in there. Doctors, lawyers, accountants. ‘The professionals get into trouble too,’ he had gently reminded her. ‘And they’re not all guilty.’

Then, as she had her bag on her shoulder and her hand on the front door, he rang. Just when she had persuaded herself that it wouldn’t happen; that leopards didn’t change their spots; and that if she didn’t leave in the next few minutes, she wouldn’t get the bus.

‘You called!’

‘Don’t sound so surprised.’

Karen shrugged, catching sight of herself in the hall mirror, glad that they hadn’t got round to having those new phones that actually showed the person at the other end what you looked like. She was flushed, the way she always went when nervous.

Then she caught sight of the crystals hanging from the silver Ikea candle holder she’d treated herself to in the sales. Just looking at them – especially that little pink one which she’d been drawn to in the shop – somehow made her feel calmer.

‘Sorry. It’s just that I’m going somewhere.’

‘Anywhere nice?’

She wasn’t going to answer that one. He had no right to ask.

‘I need to talk to you. About Adam.’

Briefly, she explained about Adam having left Hayley because of her affair, and running off to his grandmother’s.

‘I know. Mum told me.’

Doris had promised to wait until she’d spoken to him!

‘I’ve spoken to Adam too. I can see his point, love.’

Love? He hadn’t called her that for years. It made her feel both annoyed and something else – something she couldn’t put her finger on – at the same time.

‘We’ll talk about it. When I come round for lunch on Saturday.’

‘But Adam won’t come. Not if Hayley’s here.’

‘Yes he will. I’ve talked to him.’

‘But why would he talk to you and not me?’

‘Father/son stuff, I suppose. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, does it. The important thing is to talk.’

The important thing is to talk? She’d told Paul that enough times in the early days but did he do it? If he had told her how he had felt; how frustrated he’d been as a young dad trying to keep it all together, maybe he might not have . . . have done what he did.

‘Folk can change,’ Doris had said during their last chat.

Was that true?

And if so, wondered Karen as she made her way to the meeting, should she really give him a chance? Not with her, obviously. It was too late for that. But perhaps she should give him a chance to be part of the family one more time.

It was then that she saw it. A poster outside the local civic centre building. Psychic Fair. Rubbish. Absolute rubbish. She’d heard about people like that. Charlatans who looked at your left hand and, if there wasn’t a ring, made up stuff on the spot about dark, handsome strangers. And yet somehow, without meaning to, Karen found herself being propelled inside.

Clearly it had only just started. A couple of men were still setting up their tables; one was laying tarot cards over a green baize top. But it was the woman who caught Karen’s eye. An ordinary, sensible-looking woman with brown sturdy shoes and an elastic-waisted skirt. Her eyes met Karen’s at the same time. No aura. Funny that. Over the last few months, she hadn’t been able to see anyone’s auras. Was that because she was too stressed?

‘How much?’ she asked without meaning to.

‘Usually it’s £35 but as you’re my first, I’ll make it £20.’

‘I haven’t much time.’

‘You’re right there. I could tell as much from the minute you walked in.’

Anyone could have told her that, Karen thought, pulling up a seat. She probably screamed out ‘stressed’ from her face. Yet somehow she found herself putting over a hand to this stranger who began nodding as though those lines on her palm were words. ‘You have a son.’

Not a child. A son.

‘And you have a spirit child too.’

Karen froze.

‘And now you have a choice.’ She looked up and Karen could see she was younger than the elasticated skirt and stout shoes suggested. ‘Between two men.’

Two?

‘You’ll know what to do when it happens.’

The woman let go of her hand so it almost fell on the table.

‘Is that it?’

The woman’s eyes were locked on hers. ‘You have an appointment. Go. Or you will be late. And forget the money. I’d rather you made the right decision.’

Karen felt cold and hot at the same time. ‘But which one is it?’

The other woman smiled. ‘You’ll know when you get to it. We always do. But we don’t always allow ourselves to hear it. Know what I mean?’

Yes, she knew. No, she didn’t. Two men? Paul had to be one. But the other? Her head was still whirling by the time she reached Lizzie’s pretty Victorian semi, which turned out to be in a rather nice road not far from the one she and Paul had lived in all those years ago. Lizzie took a while to let her in (she could hear her shouting at a child upstairs) and when she did, she tried not to look at the untidy hall which was strewn with school lunch boxes from that day, still with half-eaten sandwiches inside; post that hadn’t been opened for days; and shoes lying around so she nearly tripped over a sole trainer just inside the front door.

‘I’m sorry,’ Lizzie apologised, ushering her into a front room where the others were already waiting. There’s so much to do when you’re on your own. I don’t seem to have time to tidy up.’

She could remember that time so well! It gets better, she was about to say, but Violet (surprise, surprise!) got in first.

‘I’d like to say that I’ve turned a corner this month.’ She beamed at everyone, revealing a new front tooth that replaced the gap in previous meetings. ‘I’ve had a date!’

‘With a pit bull terrier,’ muttered Ed.

Lizzie giggled but, luckily, Violet didn’t seem to have heard.

‘He took me out to tea in High Wycombe . . .’

‘Blimey, the man knows how to live!’

Karen shot him a look that said,
‘Don’t be so unkind’
, but Violet was still happily burbling away. ‘And next week, we’re off to Kew Gardens. I went there once before, you know, with Elvis . . .’

Karen was determined to get in first before Ed said any more. ‘That’s great Violet. But remember the title of our session: ‘DATING AGAIN – SLOWLY, SLOWLY!’  It’s very natural to want to feel that we’re still attractive. And it’s understandable that we want someone else to fancy us to prove that. Yet there’s a real danger of doing that too fast, before we’re ready.’

‘Was that what you did?’ Ed’s voice sounded different. Immediately she realised why. She’d had enough practice with Paul in the early years. He was drunk! Or at least tipsy. And Alison looked very flushed.

‘I’m afraid it was.’ She thought back to the series of short-term relationships in the last few years. Was? Still is, more like. OK. Time to be honest.

‘In fact, I’m still making that mistake. I never said I was perfect. Just because I started this group, doesn’t mean I’ve sorted out my own problems.’

They were listening intently now. Even Violet who hadn’t reached into her bag for her usual gum.

‘I can’t tell you how many dates I’ve had since my marriage broke up. But none of them have lasted more than two or three weeks because I didn’t want to . . . didn’t want to get intimate, if you like.’

Alison was almost tomato-like now! And that Hugh was looking pretty uncomfortable from the way he was shifting around on the chair by the window. Well she’d blown her chances with him, no mistake.

‘I liked the company and I liked it when they liked me but I was too scared to go any further in case I got hurt again.’

There, she’d said it. Something she hadn’t even really admitted to herself. And now it was out in the open, it was beginning to make sense. Was that because of the so-called psychic? She was terrified of letting Paul back in the family in case he hurt her, even though there was no way – no way at all – of  getting together with him.

‘I think that’s very brave of you to admit that.’ Lizzie gave her a big warm hug which was both nice but a bit embarrassing at the same time. Ed certainly didn’t look convinced or was that because his eyes were closing as though he was going to fall asleep and fall off the sofa where he was firmly wedged against Violet.

‘I don’t buy that!’

He couldn’t buy anything in his state.

‘What’s wrong with seeing loads of people if it means you finally find the right person?’

Ed leaned forward, knocking Violet slightly although he didn’t seem to notice despite her glare. ‘I’ve just found this fantastic girl but I’ve managed to lose her thanks to a series of unfortunate events.’

‘I’m sorry,’ muttered Lizzie.

What?  Did that mean Lizzie and Ed were having a thing?

‘And now, you won’t believe what’s happened?’

Blimey, Ed’s breath was almost strong enough to set her coffee alight! He’d better not be driving himself home.

‘My first girlfriend has got in touch. Get that! My very first girlfriend. Well, not my first, obviously, but the first one I . . . the first one who I . . .’

Hugh cut in. ‘I think we get the picture.’

Ed was nodding vigorously. ‘She wants to meet up! Can you believe that?’

Hugh sniffed. ‘I thought you said you’d just found a fantastic girl. If you really thought she was that amazing, you wouldn’t be able to get over her so fast.’

‘I know. I know.’ Ed was shaking his head as though he didn’t get it himself. ‘But I can’t help thinking that Claire getting in touch is part of destiny. It’s all meant to happen. And if I was still with September, I wouldn’t be able to give Claire a chance.’

‘You won’t anyway, if you turn up drunk like tonight.’

Trust Violet to say what everyone else was thinking.

‘I’m not drunk! I just had a couple of . . . Where’s the loo?’

They tried to talk while he was gone but it was difficult to get back on track. Both Alison and Hugh were surprisingly reticent; in fact Alison was keener to talk about Sam. With any luck, she might just hang onto him for a bit longer until she could find him a long-term home.

‘Mum!’

There was the sound of a key in the lock.

Lizzie leaped to her feet. ‘Sorry. It’s my daughter. My husband is bringing her home.’

There was the sound of urgent whispering by the front door. ‘You know,’ said Alison, ‘I heard a funny joke on the radio the other day. Apparently, you don’t say ex-husbands any more. You call them ‘wasbands’. Get it?’

No one laughed. They were much more interested in what was being said outside.

‘I don’t believe you, Lizzie.’

‘You don’t believe me! That’s rich. Well come inside and see for yourself, then!’

They all looked up as a tall, rather good looking man stood at the doorway looking round. ‘This is my group. The group that is helping me get through all this shit you’ve put me in.’

A young girl was pulling at her hand. ‘That’s 10p for the swear box, Mum!’

‘And he,’ said Lizzie pointing to the door, ‘that man whom you caught being sick in the front garden, is NOT a boyfriend of mine. He’s Ed.’

Violet nodded vehemently. ‘She’s right. Although between you and me, they did have a bit of a date the other night, at the hospital. Ed told me about it. Still, young man, why don’t you come and sit down. You might learn something.’

‘Sit down? In my own house with a bunch of strangers?’ He glared at Ed. ‘No thanks. I’ve got to go.’

Karen heard the door closing and the sound of Lizzie running upstairs to sort out her daughter as well as her little boy who was calling out from his room now. If she had taken Paul back all those years ago, could they have made a new beginning?

She stood up.  Paul had been right. It was time to tell Adam the truth.

By the time Saturday came round, she was a nervous wreck. Still at least the loo had been sorted out. She’d decorated the table just as she did every Easter, with little chocolate eggs and yellow felt ducklings as well as name place cards. It had been years, she realised with a jolt, since she had written Paul’s name.