Pieces of My Heart (43 page)

‘And you got both.’ I smiled at her.

‘He’s no millionaire.’

‘I’ve never met a poor lawyer,’ Paul pointed out.

‘True. Can you believe I ended up falling for a Quaker lawyer? I always thought I’d end up with a ball-breaking City banker.’

‘Love works in mysterious ways – look at Charlie,’ I said.

‘Look at this!’ Paul said. We turned to see five coaches pulling up at the end of the driveway.

One hundred and thirty screaming, over-excited teenagers charged towards the door. All you could hear was ‘Oh, my God … this is awesome … amazing … so incredible … so, like, authentic … You could so be in Paris right now … I wonder what she’s wearing … She has such fat thighs and always shows them off, someone should, like, seriously talk to her … Look, she’s put Dylan on one side of her and Mark on the other, she’s so into both of them, it’s a bit desperate … Do you think he’ll go for her? … No way … maybe because she’s, like, queen for the night … Oh, my God, they’re serving cocktails … Wow, this is
soooooo
cool …’

At eight thirty, the orchestra started up and everyone was ushered to the front of the stage. The lights went down and twenty spectacular can-can girls in ruffled red dresses danced out, arms linked, half carrying a small chubby girl in hot pants. Once they were lined up, the spotlight went onto Annabelle, leaving the other dancers in semi-darkness. While they kicked their legs, she kind of skipped beside them, while they did handstands, she spun around in a circle, and when they did the splits, she stayed standing and threw her hands in the air in a theatrical ‘ta-da’.

‘I don’t know much about dancing but that was shocking,’ Paul whispered in my ear.

‘You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear,’ I murmured back. ‘We did our best.’

‘You did a great job – the place looks incredible. I’m very impressed.’

‘That’s really nice to hear. And thanks for helping out with the bar. It’s brilliant.’

‘We make a good team.’ Paul smiled at me, and I kissed him.

‘Mmmmm, more of that later, please,’ he said, and reluctantly headed back to the bar where kids were fighting each other to get cocktails.

All you could hear among them was ‘That dancing was
soooo
embarrassing … poor Annabelle … two left feet … So lame … Oh, my God, what was that? … I’m dying inside for her … Money can’t buy you rhythm … What is she wearing? … The corset is like way hot, but the hot pants? Hello, thunder thighs …’

Annabelle left the stage and now that the can-can dancers were set free from trying to make her look good, they did an incredible set – high-kicking, cart-wheeling, back-flipping and doing the splits over and over again to the enthusiastic screams of the teenagers. Janice had done an amazing job on the choreography: they were fantastic.

Sally and I went backstage to make sure Annabelle’s second entrance was set up. Six male models, naked to the waist, were going to carry her down the stairs and out among the guests.

‘Come on, hurry up, I want to get out there – I want them to see me.’ Annabelle was wearing a feather and diamond tiara to go with her throne.

The models lifted the chair onto their shoulders and carried her out. The band played ‘Don’t You Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me’ and the other teenagers ran up and cheered, although I definitely heard some jeering too.

Annabelle waved like a royal princess, loving every minute of it. But when the chair was set down she stood up to take a bow and a loud rip rang out. Annabelle froze.

‘She’s split her hot pants,’ Sally gasped.

‘Oh, shit. Tell the band to keep playing.’ I ran over, pushed Annabelle back into the chair and told the men to carry her backstage.

‘Wave,’ I hissed. ‘Behave as if this is all part of the plan.’

She stared at me, her lip quivering.

‘Smile and wave,’ I barked.

She waved weakly and tried to smile as we hustled her backstage.

Sally came running in after us. ‘It’s OK, a couple of the kids heard it and started saying you’d split your hot pants, and I told them that was bullshit, you were coming right back out now and they’d see you hadn’t.’

‘Why did you say that? Are you a total moron? I can’t go back out there with my arse hanging out,’ Annabelle screeched.

Sally pushed her face into Annabelle’s. ‘Listen to me, you spoilt brat. We knew you were going to split your hot pants – they were far too tight for your fat arse – so we had a spare pair made. Shut up and put them on.’

I produced them and helped her squeeze into them. ‘You don’t have a fat bum, Sally was just joking,’ I whispered.

‘Hello! I’m not blind – I know I have a great arse.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Go on, get out there and show them all your hot pants aren’t ripped,’ Sally told her.

We peeked out from behind the curtain and watched Annabelle twirling around to show any doubters her non-ripped hot pants.

I felt a tap on the shoulder and spun around. ‘Excuse me, I’m looking for the loo,’ a boy slurred, but before I could give him directions, he threw up all over Sally’s shoes.

She covered her face with her hands. ‘I will never ever do a sixteenth-birthday party again. I don’t care how much profit we make. It’s not bloody worth it. Give me screaming toddlers any day.’

I put my arm around her. ‘Come on, partner, let’s go and get Paul to make us a very strong cocktail.’

‘It’d better be bloody rocket fuel – I loved these shoes.’ We looked down at the vomit-stained shoes and began to laugh.

We found Paul, who made us very potent cocktails. At one o’clock the coaches arrived to take the guests home. We helped usher the kids onto them and waved them off.

By the time we had cleaned up it was three o’clock in the morning. We were all bleary-eyed. The barmen left, then Paul and I dropped Sally back to her apartment and went home.

‘Thanks for tonight,’ I said, kissing him in the hall as he took his coat off.

‘You’re very welcome. I enjoyed working with you. It’s nice to see you in kick-arse organizing mode. Very impressive.’

‘How do you fancy me kicking your arse around the bedroom?’ I nuzzled his neck.

Paul whooped, hoisted me over his shoulder and hurried up the stairs where we had passionate, needy, emotional and long-overdue sex.

48

Three days later Sally didn’t turn up for work. I called her phone but it was switched off. I called her apartment but it just kept going into answering-machine. By ten o’clock I was getting really worried so I drove over to see if she was all right. I buzzed her intercom. No answer. I buzzed again and again until finally she picked up.

‘What?’

‘Sally, it’s me – are you OK?’

‘I hate men,’ she shouted.

‘Fair enough. Can you buzz me in so we can discuss it face-to-face?’

I ran up the stairs two at a time. When I got to her apartment, the door was open and she was standing in the kitchen drinking wine straight from the bottle.

‘Sally, it’s ten in the morning. Put that down and talk to me.’ I gently removed the bottle from her hand and led her to the couch. She sat down, put her head in her hands and groaned.

‘Talk to me, Sally. What happened?’

‘Simon proposed.’

‘WHAT?’ I jumped up. ‘But that’s brilliant news.’

‘Is it?’ She glared at me.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘He wants kids.’

‘Oh.’ I sat back down. ‘What did you say?’

‘I told him how I felt about children.’

‘Hadn’t it ever come up before?’

She sighed. ‘Every time it did I changed the subject. I was too scared to have the conversation because I knew what he’d say. But when he proposed it all came up and … well …’

‘Tell me everything.’

Sally took a deep breath and explained …

When she’d arrived home from work the night before, Simon was waiting for her. The apartment was lit with candles and there was a bottle of champagne and two glasses on the table. Before she had taken her coat off, Simon threw himself down on one knee. ‘Sally, I love you, will you marry me?’ he blurted out.

‘Jesus, are you serious?’

‘Of course I’m serious.’

‘Have you forgotten you’re already married?’

‘OK, well, will you marry me when my divorce comes through?’

‘That’s so romantic.’ Sally giggled.

‘Come on, Sally, my knee’s killing me.’

‘Yes, I’d love to marry you when your divorce comes through.’ She helped him up.

‘Shit, I forgot the ring,’ he said, fishing around in his pocket.

‘I would have thought you’d be better at this having done it before.’

‘Actually, smartarse, this is my first time. Maura proposed to me.’ He pulled a box out of his jacket. ‘Here you go.’

Sally opened it. Inside she found a beautiful solitaire diamond. ‘Wow, it’s gorgeous,’ she said, choked up.

‘Here, let me.’ Simon took the ring out and tried to put it on her finger but it was too small.

‘Ouch.’ She winced as he tried to push it down.

‘Oh, for fuck sake, this is the worst proposal ever.’

‘What were you thinking? It’s tiny, it wouldn’t fit a midget.’

‘It was my mother’s.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, she was very slight.’

‘Are you saying I’m not?’

‘No, you’re perfect. You obviously just have big fingers.’

‘No, I don’t, I have normal fingers but big knuckles.’

‘Can they make rings bigger?’

‘I’m sure they can.’

‘I’ll get it sized properly and propose again.’

‘So are we engaged now or do I have to wait for round two? I’m confused.’

‘Yes, we are, despite it being the worst proposal in history. Sorry.’

Sally kissed him. ‘For a girl who never expected to get engaged it was just fine. Can we have some champagne now or do I have to wait for the next proposal?’

‘I need a drink.’ Simon popped the cork and they giggled.

‘You know,’ Sally said, snuggling up to him on the couch, ‘you could probably get your marriage annulled.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘On the grounds that your wife’s insane and a slapper and a stalker.’

‘You have a point there.’

‘Can we get married abroad with just a handful of people? I’m too old to do the big family wedding. Besides, I don’t like most of my family, and I’m definitely not wearing white.’

‘Abroad and small sounds great.’

‘Are you sure you want to get married again? Because I’m fine if you don’t. Living together is OK with me.’

Simon sat up and looked at Sally. ‘I want to marry you. I love you and I want to have kids with you.’

Sally’s heart sank. She took a gulp of champagne. ‘Simon, there’s something I need to talk to you about.’

‘I knew it – you can’t have kids. I thought that was why you kept changing the subject every time I brought it up. It’s OK, don’t worry, we’ll adopt.’

Sally looked down at her hands and took a deep breath. ‘I’m forty-three so the chances of me having children naturally are slim and we probably would have to adopt, but that’s not the problem. The thing is, I don’t want children.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I don’t want children. I’ve never wanted to be a mother. It’s not for me. I’m not maternal.’

‘That’s totally normal. Most people don’t feel maternal or paternal until they have their own babies. When it’s your own child you’ll feel –’

‘Different,’ Sally finished his sentence. ‘No, I won’t.’

‘Of course you will. You’re a very loving, kind, generous person – you’d be an amazing mother.’

‘No, I wouldn’t, because I wouldn’t want the child I had. Simon, you’re not listening to me – I do not want to have children.’

Simon stared at her. ‘But I do.’

Sally held her breath. ‘How badly?’

‘I’ve always wanted them. I’ve always wanted to be a dad.’

‘Shit,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t you want us to be parents together?’ Simon asked. ‘We’d make a great team. I’d be really hands-on, I wouldn’t leave you to look after the baby on your own.’

‘That’s not it. I don’t like babies, I don’t think they’re cute. I think they’re a pain. I like my life. I don’t want to give it all up for a kid. Once you have a child that’s it – twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year for the rest of your life. I don’t want that responsibility.’

‘But I’ll be here with you to share it all.’

‘That doesn’t matter. I don’t want a baby.’

‘But you’re great with Ava’s girls.’

‘Yes, I like teenagers, but I don’t want one of my own. I love taking the girls for lunch or treating them to a day’s shopping on their birthdays but I also like dropping them home. Have you seen Ava and Paul lately? They’re stressed out of their heads. I don’t want that. I don’t want another human being completely dependent on me for ever. It freaks me out. I like my life the way it is. I love you and I love being with you and I want to marry you but I won’t change my mind about this, Simon. I’m just not cut out to be a mother.’

‘Sally, I had a cousin who was the same as you but then she got pregnant and when she had the baby she said she couldn’t believe how amazing it was and how different she felt about her own child. She’s had two more since then.’

‘Simon, you have to listen to me. I’m not your cousin and I’m not going to change my mind. If we had a baby it would break us up because I’d be miserable. I can’t do it.’

‘Not even for me?’

‘Don’t do that. Don’t ask me to do something for you that you know I don’t want to.’

‘What about what I want?’

‘If you really want children then I’m not the person you should be with.’ Sally began to cry.

‘I don’t think I can give up my dream of being a dad for anyone,’ Simon said quietly.

Sally blinked back the tears. He stood up. ‘I’m going to go now. I’ll call you in the morning.’

Sally nodded – she couldn’t speak.

She drank two bottles of wine and passed out on the couch.

‘Oh, Sally,’ I hugged her, ‘I’m so sorry. You guys are great together. I’m sure you can work this out.’

‘How? One of us has to give up something they really want. Him having children, me not having children. We’ll never find a compromise.’

‘Maybe he’ll change his mind. He’ll realize on reflection that you’re enough.’