Persuading Annie (11 page)

‘Golfing men! And one of them’s divorced so he’s got a lot of time on his hands!’ he exclaimed to the room, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

‘Which one?’ asked all the women together.

‘Um,’ said Charles, momentarily flummoxed. ‘Can’t remember. Ah yes I can, tell a lie. The shorter one.’

‘I suppose you told them you couldn’t possibly play golf with them for the next year because you have two sons to look after and your wife is having a nervous breakdown due to staff shortage and no weekly massages?’

Victoria’s voice almost broke as she spoke. She failed to see why Charles was still able to play golf, yet she had had to sacrifice everything that made life worthwhile. The only ‘luxury’ she had managed to keep was her weekly appointments with her cranial osteopath. Without that, she had explained calmly to everyone at the meeting, her weekly migraines would return and she would gladly kill herself.

Charles’s smile vanished.

‘Oh.’

‘Thought not.’

The awkward silence was interrupted by an eager Fi, standing by window.

‘Which one is that one?’ she asked, ‘He’s gorgeous.’

Annie couldn’t bring herself to walk to the window. She wasn’t sure what she found more disturbing, the fact that it could be Jake down there or that Fi thought he was gorgeous.

Charles went to look.

‘Ah: That one is the golfer. No, he’s the bad golfer—’

‘Is he the divorced short one?’ asked Sophie impatiently, now also at the window.

‘What’s his name?’ asked Victoria, who had joined her sisters-in-law.

Four women held their breath.

‘Um …’

‘Honestly, Charles,’ tutted his wife. ‘You were with him five minutes ago. What’s his name?’

‘Ah yes. That one’s … David.’

Annie exhaled.

‘No! Jake! Yes that’s right. Jake. Single, tall, bad but keen golfer. Moving in any day now. Splendid fellow.’

Sophie and Fi looked at each other and grinned.

Annie felt sick.

* * * * *

That night in their favourite café, against her better judgement, Annie told Cass the latest developments.

‘Jake’s turned “absolutely gorgeous” apparently,’ she scoffed.

‘Oh dear.’

‘I don’t understand it. I only dated him out of pity. He was a bespoke boyfriend rather than mass market. Trust him to go chocolate-box on me. Sophie and Fi both fancy him already.’

‘Really?’ asked Cass. ‘That should be fun to watch. Like watching two toy seal pups fight to the death.’

She gave a wicked grin, but Annie just sighed.

Suddenly Cass looked dramatically at her watch, landed her handbag heavily on the table, took out a little bottle, and stuffed it up her right nostril.

Annie stared at her in silence.

‘Sh!’ commanded Cass suddenly, and commenced sniffing. She put the bottle back in her bag. ‘Can you hear anything?’ she asked finally.

Annie was perplexed. There was utter silence in their corner of the café.

‘Nope,’ she whispered. ‘Should I be able to hear anything?’

‘You can’t hear my ovaries?’

Annie was completely confused.

‘
Hear
your
ovaries
? Cass, it’s too late in the evening to get surreal on me, what are you talking about?’

‘I’m “quietening down” my ovaries, like the nice doctor told me. You see, it all makes perfect sense – I have to get menopausal before I can have treatment to get pregnant. So when I start losing my teeth and forgetting why I’ve just opened the fridge door, I’ll be ready to be a mother.’

Annie looked perplexed.

‘I wouldn’t mind, but this stuff smells of dogturd.’

Two hours, two portions of hot buttered cinnamon toast and two hot chocolates later, Cass drove Annie home. Annie got out of the Land Rover.

‘Cheer up, Annie,’ said Cass before Annie shut the car door. ‘Jake can’t have turned into George Clooney overnight. And Markhams’ PR
is
going to be all right. Trust me, I’m your fairy godmother.’

Annie managed a smile.

‘Good luck with the menopause,’ she said to Cass before closing the door.

‘What menopause?’ asked Cass. ‘Oooh! It’s working!’

9

THE CRUNCH OF
tyre on gravel crept into Annie’s dreams and the next moment, she woke suddenly. A car door far below her attic window slammed shut. Feet on gravel, the front door opening, then closing quietly. The echoing sound of footsteps on the hall stairs below loosened her bowels more efficiently than a week in Mexico.

Annie looked at her bedside clock. 6 am.

Shit. She knew Jake was moving in soon, but she had no idea he’d come so early. Since when did he ever get up before noon?

She turned over to lie on her back. She could feel the pulse of her heart against the duvet.

Jake Bloody Mead was in the building.

He was in her home.

She tried going back to sleep, but every time she shut her eyes, she saw his face as it had been all those years ago.

After five minutes of useless tossing and turning, she reluctantly got up, feeling tired yet restless. She would be fine, she told herself as she slipped on her vest top. She would be calm, mature, serene, tranquil, sophisticated. But
most of all calm. She would not give in to her anger. She was a big girl now, not the pathetic teenager whose heart he had broken.

She went to the toilet like she did every morning. See? Fine. She brushed her teeth, while listening to the radio. Utter and complete calm. She put on the kettle just one hour earlier than usual. Serenely tranquil. Jake’s eyes flashed into her mind. Totally mature. She heard his whispered ‘Annie’ in her ears. Sophisticated. His mouth, his cheekbones, his nose, his smile. In her building. Dear God, his smell. In her building.

She felt fine, calm, serene, mature and completely in control of her emotions.

Maybe just another visit to the toilet.

Where her insides imploded.

* * * * *

Annie’s reflection gazed reproachfully back at her.

‘What did you expect?’ It seemed to be saying. ‘You’re no spring chicken, honey. Let’s face it, you’re more of an autumn duck.’

Her skin was still butter-smooth. Her eyes bright. She examined the new gossamer lines just starting to feather the corners of her eyes. She knew it went against everything the beauty magazines said, but somehow those lines made her feel more … more real.

Unfortunately there was one part of her reflection that still had a girlish glow. Her skin. Or to be more precise, her ‘T-zone’ – forehead, nose and chin. In fact, a veritable 80s revival fest was going on underneath it. How could that happen? she thought, staring at a small but fierce pimple on her chin. Spots
and
wrinkles at the same time? She could join the circus with that, surely.

Yes, she admitted it, where once there had been easy elasticity in her body, there were now comfortable curves. But still. She wouldn’t go back to her teens. Yes, time had had its effect on certain parts of her body, but in contrast, her mind had grown supple, flexible and taut from the lessons that had come with each year.

She stared at herself in the mirror until she became nothing more than the sum of her parts.

I am who I am, she told her reflection gently.

And you are a feckless idiot, Annie’s reflection replied.

* * * * *

She had found herself unusually short-tempered at breakfast with her family all week.

‘Can I have chocolate for breakfast?’ Harry asked.

She shook her head.

‘Chicken nuggets?’

‘Would you like spinach and liver?’ said Annie, cutting up his toast. ‘Because you’re going the right way about it.’

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. It was just like Mummy.

Annie had been up so early all week that she’d given the boys breakfast and walked them in to nursery school. Bertie was not enjoying this new routine. It was much nicer when Mummy drove them in. He practically had to jog to keep up.

‘It’s good for you,’ Annie said this morning. ‘Puts hairs on your chest.’

It was only when Bertie started crying that Annie slowed down.

By the Friday morning, the boys’ headmistress was seriously
concerned by their unusual punctuality. She phoned Victoria to see if everything was all right at home. Annie hadn’t returned yet.

‘Of course they’re happy at home,’ Victoria said, nonplussed into the phone. ‘I’m just an amazingly efficient mother.’

‘Ye-es. It’s just that it’s never happened before. We do like to keep an eye out for anything unusual in the children’s routine.’

‘Oh well then,’ snapped Victoria. ‘I’ll be sure to let you know when we start our annual Satanic abuse rituals. They might be a few minutes late for assembly that week. Thank you
so
much for the call.’

Bloody private nurseries, she thought, as she slammed down the receiver.

It was still so early when Annie got back that morning that she made Charles and Victoria freshly squeezed orange juice while they were abluting. Then they all sat in silence munching their breakfast and drinking black coffee until talk was possible. Slowly, Charles and Annie stopped munching and looked at Victoria.

Victoria was staring thoughtfully at her grilled tomatoes.

‘What’s up?’ asked Charles, his mouth full.

Victoria sighed. ‘I can’t decide whether to eat them or not.’

‘Why?’

‘They’re full of fluid which will make me fat. But they’re also full of antioxidants which are anticarcinogenic.’

‘Do you
want
them?’

She looked at her husband as if he was mad. ‘What’s wanting them got to do with it?’ Really, Charles could be tiresome sometimes.

They fell into silence again.

Charles went back to his newspaper and then glanced up to find his wife looking at him like he was something unmentionable on the sole of her suede Chanel mules.

‘What have I done now?’

‘I never said a thing.’

‘Then why are you looking at me like I’m a buffoon?’

Victoria picked up a slice of dry toast and stood up.

‘I’m practising.’

She left the room.

Charles sat pondering on this for a moment before turning to Annie.

‘More coffee?’ he asked.

Annie shook her head. Then she nodded.

As Charles went to pour her another one, she shook her head.

‘Yes or no, old thing?’ asked Charles kindly.

Annie shrugged.

‘Don’t mind,’ she said quietly.

Charles poured her another cup, frowning in concern.

Annie stared at her coffee, as if it was some great perplexing puzzle.

She was, she knew, somewhat preoccupied of late. The truth of it was that she was terrified of leaving her own front door. Where would she see Jake first? In the High Street? In the hall? What if he kept away? What if she never saw him? She couldn’t decide which scared her most.

‘Ah dear, Annie. Marriage you know,’ Charles was saying, as he poured himself another coffee, assuming that Annie’s thoughtfulness had come on from witnessing his and Victoria’s regular morning tiffs. ‘Not as easy as it looks. Bloody hard work in fact.’

Annie nodded and stared at her cup. She didn’t hear another word until—

‘And of course, the cherry on the proverbial … um … cupcake, is that he’s not as fond of golf as the other chap. Has a handicap of 70. The man is no less than ideal.’

Confident that he’d amply proved his point, Charles sat back and started the Second Act of his breakfast.

‘Isn’t 70 rather poor for a handicap?’ asked Annie mildly.

‘Poor? It’s shocking! Positively shameful!’ replied Charles joyously. ‘The man will make an absolutely perfect addition to the family. Think he’ll be ideal for Sophie. David’s nice, but not the same quality, if you get my drift.’

Annie thought it would be wise not to ask David’s handicap.

‘By the way,’ continued Charles, ‘you do know that David’s invited us all down there tonight, don’t you? Liked the sound of my two sisters, I don’t doubt.’

Annie shook her head slowly.

‘Oh yes, you must join us. Don’t know that David realised you live with us when he made the invite, but can’t possibly have you staying up here all by yourself while we’ll be down there gassing. It’s not formal, so shouldn’t see why they’d mind an extra one. It’ll be great fun watching two top ‘troubleshooters’ falling over each with my kid sisters, eh?’

Annie moved her facial muscles into a faint smile. ‘Yes, great fun,’ she said.

And then she surprised herself by wishing she could justify a facial and a seaweed wrap.

* * * * *

Annie sat in the Samaritan office, staring into space, waiting.

One whole day, a full twenty-four hours since Jake had lived in the flat below her and her life was still the same. Charles had assured her that he’d told David to set an extra place for her and she had decided it was the best way to see Jake again – surrounded by family so she wouldn’t be tempted to garotte him.

Would he have put on weight? Gone bald? Prematurely grey?

A girl could hope.

When she had exhausted this depressing thought process, she moved on to another one. Was her father really going to lose everything? It was a terrifying prospect she could hardly bear to contemplate.

Her life really was going down the pan.

The phone rang.

‘Hello Samaritans?’

‘Can I talk?’

‘Of course,’ said Annie gently. Miming might take time, she thought.

The voice said something, or was it a cough? Annie waited. Eventually she spoke.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.’

‘Catch what?’

‘Did you … just say something?’

‘Don’t rush me!’

‘I wasn’t rushing you!’

‘No need to get angry!’

‘I wasn’t getting angry!’

Shit. This wasn’t going well. She clenched the phone tighter, as if that might ensure the person on the other end wouldn’t hang up.

‘I just need to talk.’

‘Well,’ said Annie as calmly as possible. ‘You just say whatever you feel comes naturally.’

Silence.

‘Take your time,’ she soothed.

Silence.

A deep sigh from the caller.