If You're Not the One (11 page)

‘My name's Jennifer,' she said firmly, annoyed at his constant use of her surname as a term of endearment. ‘Not Drew. Just Jennifer. I am not a public school boy.'

Tim's face was grim, his eyes flinty and confused. She could practically see his mind racing, so desperate was he to regain control of the situation. For a split second she felt really angry with him because actually he was quite controlling in a passive aggressive kind of way and perhaps if he hadn't put her down as much as he had she might have a bit more confidence in herself.

‘So what are you saying? Do you want a break?'

‘No,' she said quietly, ‘I think we should split up. I'm saying that while we've had some great times, we've forgotten how to have fun and that we're only young so that's not on. I'm saying that we don't necessarily bring out the best in each other and that I don't want to compete with reUNIon any more. I'm really sorry.'

Tim gazed at her in shock from across the room and if she'd had any small lingering doubts as to whether or not she was doing the right thing they now all disappeared, because there wasn't just a physical distance
between them but a whole aching chasm of wrongness. If she ended up lonely and depressed for the rest of her life so be it. It was surely better to be single than in a vaguely dysfunctional relationship.

She waited patiently, expecting Tim to digest what she had said, to think logically about it, before analysing the facts and then to interpret and manage them dispassionately. To her surprise though, instead he did something very out of character and that she never would have expected. He cried.

‘Don't do this, Jen,' he pleaded, his blue eyes suddenly brimming with surprised desperation and tears.

For a while she didn't reply. She was simply too surprised by his…surprise.

‘I just don't think we bring out the best in each other,' she repeated, now feeling a definite and very welcome sense of relief about having formed her decision. It was then that she realised just how many doubts she must have been having for some time now. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘I can't believe you're being such a bitch,' said Tim.

‘Don't get nasty,' she warned.

‘I have done nothing but love you,' he ranted. ‘And this is how you repay me. How could you?'

She sighed and not wanting to continue the scene went to get her stuff from the bedroom. Though she'd probably leave the police woman outfit where it was.

‘Just think about it for a few days, Drew…um…Jen. Just don't do this on a whim, you'll regret it.'

‘I'm sorry,' she repeated. ‘I've made up my mind.'

She gathered all her stuff into her holdall and switched on her phone. How odd. She had eight new text messages and the voicemail symbol was flashing. The first message she read simply said ‘have you seen the news?'.

‘Weird,' said Jennifer.

‘What?' said Tim, looking fairly pitiful. His tears were terribly disconcerting. So out of character. They didn't suit him.

‘Switch on the telly a moment,' she instructed, and when he ignored her she went back into the lounge and did it herself.

Within seconds the reason she had so many messages, five of which were from her devastated mother, became clear. Princess Diana had died.

For the next three hours what had just passed between them became irrelevant, unimportant and completely secondary to the story which was unfolding on the news. Tim and Jennifer sat gazing at the footage in shock, feeling desperately sad. Jennifer was in floods and Tim was pretty choked, which was unexpected given that he was completely anti-royalist. A long while was spent wondering how it was that things could change so irrevocably on the turn of a sixpence before Jennifer finally felt able to wrench herself away from the telly to make her journey back to her mum and dad's. As she said goodbye she suspected it was the last time she would see Tim. Deep down she doubted they'd remain friends.

She was partially right. It was the last time Jennifer would see Tim in the flesh and yet a mere twelve months later there was no escaping his face and she saw him practically every day. For when reUNIon finally, possibly inevitably, took off, it was everywhere, and so therefore was Tim, including, on one occasion, on the ten o'clock news.

2006

‘Off out somewhere?' Jennifer's boss Janine half yelled after her departing back.

‘Er, family dinner, but I'll be in early tomorrow.'

‘No problem,' replied Janine, wafting her hand in an airy manner, obviously designed to suggest that she was totally cool either way, when clearly she wasn't. Clearly she was actually flabbergasted that, shock horror, Jennifer was doing the unthinkable and committing a huge office offence by, wait for it…leaving
on time
.

It annoyed Jennifer. Strictly speaking her hours were nine thirty till six but her colleagues were miserably competitive. Staying at their desks later than was really required had practically become a professional sport, meaning anyone wishing to attempt some sort of a life during the week appeared to be slacking.

Still, she wasn't going to fret about that now. She had bigger things to think about.

Half an hour later, she emerged from Clapham North tube and as she headed purposefully in the direction of home, she ended up breaking into a trot, unable to prevent a wide grin from spreading across her face. She had the distinct feeling that passers-by must be able to tell that she was a spectacularly clever and useful creature just by looking at her.

Happily, Max had obeyed orders and arrived home as promptly as she had.

As soon as she walked in the door, he looked up and raised an eyebrow, not wanting to pre-empt what she was about to say but unable to hide his anticipation.

By way of reply she simply nodded, eyes shining, and to fully prove it, pulled out the stick she'd urinated on eight long hours ago now. She loved what that stick had told her so much, she'd allowed it to remain alongside the luxury lining of her beloved Miu Miu handbag, despite the fact it had wee on it.

‘I knew it,' said Max, punching the air and leaping up to come and hug her. ‘Oh Jen, you clever, clever thing. That's amazing. When did you find out?'

‘This morning,' she said, so relieved to finally be able to talk about it. ‘I just had a feeling. My boobs were really aching and I had this odd crampy feeling so I thought, right, come on, no point putting it off.'

Max hugged her tightly.

‘But we're not allowed to get excited yet,' instructed
Jennifer pointlessly, ‘and I don't want to tell anyone until we've had the scan. Except my mum. Obviously.'

‘Agreed,' said Max solemnly. ‘Oh my god Jen, I can't believe it.'

Later, as they ate dinner in front of the telly, grinning like idiots at one another, it was impossible to ignore the fact that all being well, in around thirty-four weeks' time, their lives would change forever.

In the end it was Jennifer who gave in. ‘I guess we'll definitely need to move then.'

‘Guess so,' agreed Max. ‘God, suburbs here I come. Shall I just buy some Hush Puppies now and be done with it? I'm going to need a shed obviously and to start getting excited about stuff like mowing the lawn.'

‘Janine's going to be gutted you know,' replied Jennifer distractedly. ‘She won't want anyone else handling the Lancing project. Perhaps she'll make Ed and Sue share my workload till I get back, rather than get a freelancer in?'

There was so much to consider it was quite overwhelming.

‘What do you mean?' replied Max immediately. ‘I thought you said you don't want to be one of those women whose nanny knows more about their child than they do.'

Jennifer finished her mouthful before replying.

‘I don't. And I'm not sure if I will be going back yet,
but I might, and either way it's going to affect things massively for all my colleagues. And besides, what I said didn't necessarily mean I don't want to work.'

‘Oh right.'

Jennifer twirled her spaghetti. She wanted to leave the subject but it proved impossible. Perhaps it was her heightened hormones but his question had made her feel uneasy, like they weren't quite on the same page.

‘But seeing as you've brought it up, the last time we spoke about it, I
told
you I wasn't decided either way. Don't you remember me saying I might go part time? You seemed completely cool about it.'

‘I am cool about it,' Max said. ‘Whatever you decide to do I'll be right behind you.'

‘OK. Good.'

‘Course I will be. Though what I will say is that knowing Janine, if you go part time she'll want her pound of flesh, only for less money than you're on now, which frankly might be more stress than it would be worth.'

Jennifer had to concede he may have a point. Janine could be a taskmaster.

‘So if you work, great, the money will be handy and I'm sure we'll make it work somehow, but just be prepared to hand the majority of your wages over to a nanny.'

Jennifer had assumed they'd both pay for a nanny if they both worked. She wasn't sure what to say.

‘And if you don't, then that's great too and you'll be doing the most important job in the world.'

Jennifer wished he'd stop addressing the television and look at her.

‘But whatever you do is great by me and we shouldn't be having this discussion now anyway,' he added, reaching over to give her foot a squeeze. ‘Tonight we should be just enjoying the fact that after all these months I no longer have to shag you on command or be constantly aware of what your eggs are up to at any given moment.'

Jennifer smiled and concentrated on feeling reassured, determined not to let anything ruin the evening. This was what they'd both wanted for a long time. So why did what Max wanted seem so apparent?
The most important job in the world
.

Later, Jennifer phoned her mum. She'd been dying to make this exact call for so long. Her mum was predictably thrilled so it was a very special moment, marred only by the cogs which persisted on whirring in her brain, to the point where she ended up broaching the subject again, keen to get another point of view.

‘What do
you
think, Mum?'

‘I think it's a bit early to be worrying about all of this but I agree with Max. It's up to you, love. Though, for what it's worth, I would think very carefully before giving up your financial independence.'

Jennifer was surprised. Her mum had been a housewife all her life so she'd have bet heavily on her having the opposite view.

‘Why?'

‘Oh I don't know; I just think times have changed. You young women have so much more choice than my generation did and that freedom has been fought for, so you should be careful with it.'

‘OK,' said Jennifer. ‘I will be, and I haven't decided either way yet anyway. I like my job but I want to be the best mum in the world too and I'm not sure if I'll be able to pull both things off at once.'

‘True,' chuckled her mum. ‘Well, whatever you decide we're very proud of you. Proudest day of my life was the day you graduated from university and I'm sure the next one will be when I see you being a wonderful mother. But just don't forget you've got a clever brain in there. Working isn't just about money; it's about your identity as well. And you're very lucky to have the choice.'

‘I know,' said Jennifer ruefully. ‘Although sometimes I think having no choice is almost easier because then you just have to get on with it, whereas having choice means I have to make a decision which could turn out to be the wrong one.'

‘Well that's life isn't it? A series of decisions, some bigger than others of course, and some which we don't even realise will affect our lives but do. Should I turn left or right? Get the bus or the train? Stay in or go out? But enough of this gloomy talk, we've got a lot to be thankful for and I've got booties to knit so let's speak tomorrow shall we?'

‘Thanks, Mum,' said Jennifer sincerely, grateful that
her mum didn't seem to have any agenda and was happy to be objective in order to let her come to her own conclusion. Unlike somebody else.

Later that night Max snuggled in for a hug. ‘You asleep?'

‘Nearly,' murmured Jennifer. ‘Why?'

‘Nothing, it can wait, night night.'

‘No, go on, you've got to say it now,' she said, irritated. This whole hormone thing wasn't boding well so far.

‘I was just going to say that I really don't want you worrying about work during this pregnancy. I know you love your job but you're growing our baby now and I will always look after and provide for you both.'

‘I know,' said Jennifer, wondering if her husband was going to go the full hog and put her in an actual cave and perhaps start venturing out to hunt for their food. ‘Now go to sleep, I'm knackered.'

For three days a week Jennifer worked in Hayes and Ludlow, one of the many estate agents on the High Street. She was permanently amazed by how any of them managed to stay in business. So many shop fronts had changed in recent years, hit by the recession, but it seemed that in this enclave of South West London, if you were a hair dresser's, an Indian restaurant or an estate agents you could weather any financial shit storm.

Sometimes, when she thought wistfully of her old job, it felt more like an old life. A life where she'd worn a suit, and used to go for after work drinks with colleagues. A life where once a year they'd all travel by coach to Swindon and have an uproarious few days which made all the long hours, tricky clients and ever decreasing budgets they endured the rest of the time, seem thoroughly worthwhile. Still, after having children it really hadn't made much financial sense for her to continue working. Plus nothing could have prepared her for the demands of motherhood or how intensely she'd love her baby. Ultimately, with Max growing more and more resistant to the idea
of her going back, it didn't seem worth the battle anyway. Going back would have compromised everybody's set up and would only really have benefited her, in terms of retaining her sense of who she was and continuing to utilise her brain. And life wasn't all about her any more. So the suits she could no longer fit into properly had been put away, as had any shoes with a vague heel. Gradually she'd come to terms with the fact that the hours between six and eight were no longer nice ones to drink during, unless you counted a quick swig of wine gulped directly from the bottle in order to get through bath time, and on the whole she'd been happy with this arrangement. When considering leaving her offspring in a nursery or with a child-minder when she didn't really have to, she'd experienced so much emotional guilt she hadn't known whether she'd have coped with the separation anyway. So it was fortunate that Max's wage was enough for them to survive on. Just about. Although their monthly expenditure certainly became something that had to be planned down to the last penny.

However, as soon as their youngest, Polly, had started school in September, working had become a sensible option again. The money couldn't be anything but extremely useful and it certainly beat feeling obliged to clean the bathroom on a day to day basis. Of course, having been out of the rat race for so long and with jobs so scarce, Jennifer had known she was unlikely to get anything even vaguely resembling her old career. She did take
Janine out for a hopeful coffee at one point but swiftly realised that as far as her old boss was concerned, she was already from a different era in terms of how much the business and their practices had changed in just a few years. So, although being an estate agent hadn't exactly been her burning ambition in life, when she was offered the job, she'd decided it was far, far better than nothing. She got to poke around people's houses, it got her out of her own house and into other people's, and there was the added bonus that she got to chat to Lee all day.

Lee was lovely. He was young and really quiet, or at least he was until you got to know him. He had a kind face and a shaved head, usually two things that don't go hand in hand and yet possibly should, for as it turns out they're a remarkably good combination, and as he grew more comfortable around Jennifer, that is to say once he'd got the measure of her, his true personality unfurled, revealing charm, wit and a pretty sexy glint in his eye. A glint that Jennifer knew she was too old to reciprocate and yet couldn't pretend she hadn't noticed. Due to the fact she wasn't dead and that her womb was still intact and in good working order.

Every day, Lee travelled miles into work from his flat in Wood Green which was pretty much at the end of the Piccadilly line, meaning his commute consisted not only of a very long tube journey but also a bus ride from Hammersmith. How far he was prepared to travel to work
amazed Jennifer, but then she had enough self-awareness to know she'd probably adopted her fellow neighbours' rather parochial attitude that unless something was happening within spitting distance of your front door it was all a mammoth effort. Take going out for instance. Many of the mums at school would speak of ‘going into town' as if it were akin to trekking in the Himalayas in terms of adventure. Popping into nearby Richmond or to the Kew retail centre was considered pretty adventurous so hopping on a bus and then a tube to get anywhere was positively outlandish. Jennifer liked hearing about Lee's exploits, partly because they were varied, but mainly because they didn't involve anywhere local.

Right now he was filling her in on what he'd been up to at the weekend.

‘So then where did you go?'

‘So after that we ended up going on to this amazing club in Shoreditch. Have you heard of East Village?' he asked, at which point Jennifer decided she might quite passionately love him for assuming there might be even a vague possibility she'd know where the hell he was talking about.

‘Um,' she turned her head to one side, in what she hoped was an attractive fashion, ‘I've definitely heard of it,' she lied. ‘But I don't think I've been there.'

‘Oh right, well you should. It's brilliant. There was this one DJ who I'd definitely go and see again. He was amazing.
He played, like, really, really good Dubstep mixed up with more commercial tunes. Like remixes of pop tunes, Adele and that.'

‘Cool,' said Jennifer, wondering what Dubstep was and deciding to Google it and find out the minute she could. God she'd love a night out clubbing. She hadn't had a proper dance since…well, probably New Year's Eve and that was in someone's kitchen surrounded by balding men who were wearing cords or chinos. When she was at university she'd loved raving, had discovered it with a vengeance and for the first two years had spent a lot of time getting wasted. Thinking about it, she'd spent a lot of the third year getting wasted as well, only with a bit of studying thrown in for good measure. Then, after university, once she'd got a job and had started working, she'd continued to go clubbing regularly at weekends, liking nothing more than getting sweaty in a room full of strangers who only had the music and the atmosphere in common, rendering small talk impossible. Instead it had been enough simply to grin at one another like loons, and dance. All pretty tribal and primitive if you really thought about it, and yet perhaps more natural than endlessly discussing secondary education over Jamie Oliver recipes and never-ending bottles of wine. Better for the waistline too.

She smiled ruefully now as it occurred to her that in those days she could have told Lee where all the best nights in London were, who played at them, plus could
have sorted out the guest list to boot. Not any more though.

‘What did you get up to?' asked Lee.

‘Oh…er, well the kids had a sleepover on Friday so we just had a night in,' she said, blushing as she did so, hating how that mere sentence sounded so full of innuendo. Wasted innuendo. ‘Then, on Saturday, we had some mates round for lunch which was really fun,' she fibbed.

‘Oh cool, that sounds nice,' he said politely.

‘How old are you, Lee?' she asked suddenly, changing the subject.

‘Me?' said Lee, looking surprised.

‘Well there's no one else in here right now.'

‘Twenty-one.'

‘Ooh lucky bastard,' she replied flatly.

He shrugged, conveying that of course there was nothing lucky about it at all. Twenty-one years was simply the amount of time he'd been on the planet.

‘I'll be twenty-two in October,' he offered, almost apologetically. ‘Why? How old are you then? You're not that old.'

‘How old do you think I am?' she said, noting the word ‘that' and not liking it. She knew full well asking him to guess was a horrible thing to do to him, but didn't care sufficiently to stop herself.

‘Um…'

She could see Lee concentrating, desperate not to mess
his answer up thus offending her. She knew then that whatever age he thought she was he would undoubtedly shave a few years off, just to be polite.

‘Thirty, thirty-one?'

‘Thirty-eight,' she said, surmising that in that case he must think she was about thirty-four, which wasn't bad at all. She'd take that.

To her immense pleasure Lee looked genuinely surprised. ‘Oh right, well you definitely look younger than that. You're a proper…'

‘What?' laughed Jennifer.

‘Nothing,' blushed Lee, looking mortified. ‘I was about to say something really out of order. Something which would have put you well within your rights to think I was an utter twat.'

‘Oh go on, you've got to say now,' urged Jennifer. This was more fun than she'd had in ages, only just then Patrick Ludlow, one of the partners, came in, putting paid to any more inappropriate, non-work based, flirtatious chat with a minor.

Reluctantly Jennifer picked up a set of keys on her desk and went to meet her two-thirty viewing, the last one she'd do before picking up the children from school.

In that moment she hated herself slightly because deep down she'd been hoping that Lee had been about to call her a ‘Milf'. A word which was tasteless at best, offensively sexist at worst and which would ordinarily have her feminist hackles up. Yet had Lee thought she was one, if
she was being entirely honest, she would have felt rather chuffed. Oh god, she was definitely going through some kind of rather worrying ‘phase'. There was no doubt about it.

As she showed a couple around a rather pokey, over-priced, two bedroom flat, all she could think about was how, despite his youth, Lee afforded her the respect of speaking to her on his level. He didn't treat her, or make her feel like, a middle-aged housewife but instead spoke to her as a friend and as a woman, reminding her along the way how good that felt. She liked having a younger friend and briefly wondered whether she should suggest joining him and his mates on a night out at some stage. Or would he balk at the idea of being seen out with someone who occasionally bought clothes from Marks and Spencer, albeit only from The Limited Collection (never from Autograph and
certainly
never from Per Una)?

She was pretty sure Max wouldn't mind if she said she was going clubbing with Lee. He'd probably take the piss out of her a bit but to be fair was usually pretty cool about things like that, allowing her freedom, because he trusted her implicitly. Maybe she should stop being wet and just do it?

Still, twenty-one. That had been a fairly devastating moment. She'd had him down as at least twenty-five. What had she been up to at twenty-one she wondered once she'd said goodbye to the by now disillusioned and thoroughly depressed couple who'd just realised they probably
couldn't ever afford to get on the housing ladder unless they bought a skip and lived in that.

At twenty-one she'd been in her last year at university and was going out with Tim of course. Tim who was busy planning the empire he was going to build, rule and dominate. God, it all felt like a million years ago in some ways.

That night Jennifer cooked an especially nice dinner for herself and Max, insisting that they ate it at the table over a bottle of wine.

‘So, how was your day?' asked Jennifer.

‘Good thanks, Judith and I had to give a presentation this morning which went really well. She certainly knows how to communicate that one. I'll give her that for nothing.'

‘Did she ever “communicate” anything about last weekend by the way? Like, for instance, did she have chronic diarrhoea on Sunday night or was she OK?'

Max grinned. ‘I think she was fine, although I had to come clean about the chickens.'

‘What do you mean?' said Jennifer, frozen in horror.

‘It's not a big deal, I just told her they were from a deli and that we'd been a bit worried that we might have poisoned everyone.'

‘Oh god,' cringed Jennifer, wishing he hadn't and feeling inexplicably furious that he was always being so fucking chummy with Judith.

‘She was fine,' added Max. ‘We laughed over it. We also laughed about the fact that Henry just shovelled it all in without even a second look, while we sat there, not saying anything but all privately worrying for our guts.'

‘So you were laughing at me basically,' mumbled Jennifer.

Max tutted. ‘No, we weren't. Funnily enough Judith and I don't spend our time being mean about you.'

‘Oh, well what do you and Judith spend “your time” doing then?' spluttered Jennifer, shaking parmesan unnecessarily vigorously over her spaghetti bolognese.

Max sighed but said nothing.

‘What?' snapped Jennifer.

‘Nothing.'

‘No seriously what? Don't just sigh like that. I'm not stupid. I can tell you've got something to say.'

‘I'm just a bit fed up with you being so…angry all the time. I don't know what's got into you lately. You're so aggressive about everything.'

Jennifer put the cheese down and regarded her husband before exhaling hard. He had a point. Yet what she wanted to articulate but for some reason couldn't, was that she was only acting aggressively because lately the way he was being made her feel so defensive. ‘I know…you're right. I don't know what's got into me lately either.'

‘Not me, that's for sure,' Max quipped, which did at least raise a smile, albeit a sad one.

‘I just…'

‘What is it?' he said and for the first time in a long time Jennifer felt like he really wanted to know.

‘I don't know,' she said truthfully. ‘It's just lately I've been questioning everything, you know?'

‘Like what?'

‘Like what the hell I'm doing with my life. I mean, I'm thirty-eight, I work three days a week in an estate agent, which is perfectly fine, only I earn pretty much less money than our weekly food bills, which is ironic because if I'd stuck at my old job I wouldn't be paying for much childcare now the girls are at school.'