The Art of Friendship (33 page)

‘What d’ya mean?’

‘Why did you stand up for me and say all those things to your mum and dad?’

Izzy shrugged and looked embarrassed. ‘I just told it like it was.’

Clare nodded and said nothing. Izzy shifted in the seat and pulled her legs up underneath her bottom. They both
stared at the screen in silence. It was hard to believe that this reticent creature had spoken so eloquently in Clare’s defence only hours before. Clare cleared her throat. ‘I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for the way I spoke to you in the car on the day of the accident.’

Izzy shrugged her shoulders. ‘That’s okay.’ She slipped a sly glance at Clare, and an embarrassed smile briefly crossed her lips. “I kind of asked for it, didn’t I?’

‘Well, I still shouldn’t have said it.’

‘That’s okay.’ There was a long silence. Clare inched forwards on the sofa and was just about to stand up when Izzy spoke again. ‘Did you and Dad make up, then?’

Clare sat back down again. ‘Well, we’ve started. We’re going to go for marriage counselling to help us…get things back on track. Sometimes adults need help to sort out their problems.’

Izzy returned her gaze to the screen. ‘Good.’

Had that been her objective all along? To get her and Liam back together? Was she trying to make amends because she felt guilty about her role in the accident? Did it matter? Not to Clare. Izzy had done an extraordinarily brave thing, standing up to her domineering mother. And the slate between Izzy and Clare had been wiped clean. It was time for a fresh start. And perhaps, in time, they really could be friends.

Izzy sighed, reminding Clare that she was just a kid with a boredom level to match. ‘Can I watch this now? Please?’

‘Sure,’ said Clare, with an indulgent smile. ‘But there’s just one thing I want you to know. I’m grateful to you, Izzy, for what you did.’

‘That’s okay,’ said Izzy with a wide, girlish smile that Clare so rarely saw and which imbued her features with real beauty. She would be a stunner when she grew up.

Clare smiled back and then adopted a slightly formal tone. ‘I don’t think your mum was very happy, Zoe. You will make up with her, won’t you?’

Izzy gave Clare an impish smile. ‘When I’m ready,’ she said, reminding Clare just how manipulative she could be. She and Liam were going to have their work cut out keeping her in line. But even so, Clare couldn’t help but smile. There was something so charming about Izzy when she was just herself – when she wasn’t trying to be super-cool and aloof and grown-up.

‘Well, make sure you do it soon. It’s important that you and your mum get along. She…she only wants the best for you.’

Clare said this, not because she believed it necessarily to be true, but because she wanted Izzy to believe it. She could cite plenty of occasions from the past when Zoe’s actions did not seem to be in her daughter’s best interests. What she did believe, however, was that Zoe loved her daughter very much. Her behaviour, Clare suspected, was primarily governed by fear of losing her daughter’s affections. Perhaps that’s why she hated Clare so much – not because she had married her ex-husband but because she feared Izzy might come to like Clare more than her own mother.

‘You only get one mum,’ said Clare, gently. ‘You have to take care of her.’

Izzy shrugged. ‘I know. But then I have you as well. You’re not my “real” mum of course. But you’re the next best thing.’

With that she picked up the remote and the room was filled with noise. And that, Clare reckoned with a happy smile (which she did her best to hide from Izzy), was as close as she was probably going to get to an admission of affection from her stepdaughter. But it was enough for now.

Clare finished doing up the red buttons on her new
short-sleeved red striped blouse and checked her appearance in the mirror. She’d bought the top last week, after her and Liam’s first appointment with the marriage-guidance counsellor, a middle-aged woman called Valerie, in Ballymena. Valerie had talked about making an effort, not taking each other for granted, and Clare was trying very much to take her words to heart.

Hence the blouse – an attempt to take more of an interest in her appearance, to show Liam that she cared what he thought of her, to demonstrate that she wanted to please him and be desired. In addition, she’d started a diet and this time she meant to stick to it. She was determined to get back to the size she had been before the children were born. Meanwhile she tried to see the positive; although her hips were large, she still had a waist and the blouse, which clinched in nicely just beneath her chest, showed off her shape. And cutting out the daytime drinking would help her lose weight too. She’d only been doing it to dull the pain but she didn’t need it any more – not now that everything was okay between her and Liam again. Looking at her reflection now, she felt more attractive and desirable than she had for many months.

It was very early days but the atmosphere in the house had changed overnight after the confrontation with Zoe. It was as though a malevolent spirit had been exorcised from the building. Of course it wasn’t fair to blame their problems on Zoe – she’d only come between them because Liam, by not confronting her over the issues he should have, had allowed her to exert such an influence over their marriage. Like all bullies, once they stood against her, united, she had melted away. Now, when Zoe came to the house, she was reserved and polite and, if not exactly likeable, then almost pleasant. As Clare’s mum used to say, you can go a long way on good manners.

It was such a relief to be reconciled with Liam and liberated from Zoe’s tyranny. Clare had not realised how much stress she had been living under since Liam told her about Gillian. And before that, there had been the stress of getting ready in time for the exhibition, albeit that the pressure was self-imposed.

But there was still one troubling issue to resolve and it had preoccupied Clare for the last week – Kirsty. A few weeks ago Clare had woken up in a sweat after a bad dream in which she was chasing Kirsty down a dark alleyway, lined with bins and piles of rubbish. No matter how hard she screamed and how fast she ran, Kirsty would not look round and she could not catch her. Clare reckoned she’d been watching too many American crime shows. But she also acknowledged that unless she tackled Kirsty face to face they would remain estranged for ever.

It broke her heart every time Josh asked why he couldn’t play with Adam, whom he adored. So, the morning after the dream she started a painting of Ballgalley where she and Kirsty had taken their children on numerous days out over the years. On the beach she painted herself and Kirsty sitting on a rug talking and around them, four children – her own and Kirsty’s – playing in the sand and at the water’s edge. It took her three weeks to complete the picture and when it was finally done to her satisfaction, she had sent it to Kirsty with a note asking to meet tonight in No. 11.

Clare sighed. Of course there was always the possibility that Kirsty would not turn up, never mind grant her the forgiveness she sought. And without that forgiveness they could never be friends. The prospect filled her with panic. Clare inhaled deeply, held her stomach with her right hand, closed her eyes and let the breath out slowly. She had missed Kirsty terribly these last six weeks. She dreaded being rejected
but she dreaded a life without her friend even more. In order to break this deadlock, one of them had to proffer the olive branch. She was ready to do it. But, oh, she was so scared.

She was the first to arrive at No. 11. It was a Tuesday night and the place was dead. A couple of men stood at the bar drinking pints and watching football on the screen suspended from the ceiling. Danny was on duty and he looked up when she came in and gave her a big smile.

‘Hey, Clare. Good to see you,’ he said and automatically reached for a bottle of white wine from the fridge.

‘Actually, Danny, can you make that a sparkling mineral water?’

She hadn’t gone teetotal overnight but she had got her drinking under control. It was important that she demonstrate to Kirsty that she didn’t need alcohol to function. That she wasn’t a lush.

Danny raised one eyebrow just a millimetre to signify his surprise. ‘Sure,’ he said, returned the bottle to the fridge and poured a glass of water instead. He placed a beer mat on the bar and set the drink on it carefully. ‘Tell me, what’s up with you and your pals? You haven’t been in here together in weeks. You used to come in all the time.’

‘Yes, it’s been a while,’ she said vaguely, aware that Danny would not know about the fall-out between Janice and Patsy – and the cause of it must for ever remain a secret. ‘It’s just…we’ve all been…busy.’

Danny threw the empty water bottle into a crate under the bar with a clink. ‘Ach, it’s a sad day when life’s too busy to sit down and have a chin-wag over a drink with your best pals.’

Clare held out the money for the drink and nodded gravely. ‘You’re right there, Danny.’

She took a seat by the window and waited, her stomach
tied in knots with anxiety. She stared out onto the quiet street, and rehearsed what she would say to Kirsty.

‘Hello, Clare.’ Kirsty, standing, held a small glass of orange juice in her hand. She was simply dressed in a pair of jeans, a royal blue t-shirt and flat pumps. She wore little make-up but, then again, Kirsty had never needed to.

‘Hello, Kirsty. Please, sit down.’

Kirsty sat down on the chair opposite Clare, set her glass on the table and dropped her bag on the floor. Her gaze rested momentarily on the glass of water in front of Clare – then she looked away. ‘I can’t stay for long.’ Her voice was cold.

Clare took a deep breath. ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me, Kirsty.’ She paused but the other woman said nothing. ‘Did Adam like his bike?’

She looked away. ‘Yes,’ she said frostily. ‘Didn’t you get his thank-you note?’

‘Yes, yes I did,’ said Clare, the nerves inside her like a swarm of bees. ‘I know you were very angry with me, and you probably still are, but I’m glad you let him keep it. I thought you might’ve returned it.’

‘I would have, only he saw it by the back door with his name on it and I didn’t have the heart to say he couldn’t have it. Not after what happened to his other one.’

Clare swallowed and because she could not bring herself to look at Kirsty, stared at the beads of condensation on the outside of her glass. ‘And the Lego? Did he like that?’

‘I think he said so in his note, didn’t he?’

Clare nodded. ‘Josh and Rachel have missed playing with David and Adam. Josh especially.’

Kirsty gave her a cold stare. ‘You know buying things doesn’t make it better, Clare. It doesn’t put right what you did.’

Clare risked a glance at her. She was frowning crossly. ‘I
know that,’ said Clare quietly. ‘But I hope you understand, as I said in my letter…’

Kirsty sat up straight, with her hands on her lap, taking on an imperious air.

Clare pressed on. ‘I hope you believe me when I say how very sorry I am for harming Adam and for causing you so much pain. I know that the accident must’ve brought back terrible memories for you, Kirsty. And I am so sorry about that.’

Tears filled Kirsty’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and stared out of the window.

Clare felt a single tear, wet on her cheek. She made no attempt to wipe it away, because she knew it would soon be followed by others. ‘I wish I could go back and change that day. It’s the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done. I’m ashamed of myself.’

Kirsty looked at her watch, then stared coldly at Clare. ‘Is that what you wanted to say? That you’re sorry?’

‘Yes.’

Kirsty picked up her bag and stood up. The orange juice remained untouched. ‘Well, you’ve said it now.’

Clare’s heart was swollen with sadness like a storm cloud black with rain. She held her grief in check and, finally, found the words to ask for what she wanted. ‘Please, Kirsty. I want you to forgive me.’

Kirsty’s chest rose and fell. She sat down, nursing the bag on her lap. She leant forwards and hissed, ‘You let me down.’

‘I let myself down.’

‘You promised me that you wouldn’t drink and drive.’

‘I know.’

‘You broke your word.’

Clare felt like Kirsty was raining blows on her head with something both soft and heavy. Her head bowed under the weight of the recriminations.

‘You could’ve killed someone, Clare,’ said Kirsty, losing her cool. ‘You could’ve killed Adam!’

‘I know,’ said Clare and she put her head in her hands and let out a single wrenching sob. ‘There’s not a day goes by when I don’t think about it.’

‘Why, Clare? Why did you do it?’

Clare raised her face, crusty with tears. ‘You know why. I was upset about Liam, I’d hardly slept for a week. I wasn’t thinking straight. None of these is an excuse, I know.’

‘They sound like excuses to me,’ said Kirsty sullenly.

‘I’m not trying to justify what happened. What I did was wrong, plain and simple. And I deeply regret my actions.’

There was a long pause. They stared into each other’s eyes. Clare could almost hear the beat of her own heart, it pounded so wildly against her chest. She had laid her soul open for Kirsty’s scrutiny and judgment. She could do no more. She would ask one last time. ‘Do you think, Kirsty, that you can find it in your heart…to forgive me?’

Kirsty broke eye contact and shook her head sadly. She looked down at the bag on her knee and fiddled with the silver clasp. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I’ve missed you, Kirsty. I want us to be friends again.’ Saying this truth, articulating it, brought a relative sense of calm to Clare even though she did not know, yet, how Kirsty would respond. But she had given it her all. There was nothing more she could do. Everything lay in Kirsty’s hands now.

‘I’ve missed you too, Clare,’ said Kirsty quietly, her face wretched with misery, and Clare’s spirits rose. ‘But I don’t know if I can ever trust you again.’

There was a long tense silence.

‘Everyone makes mistakes,’ said Clare at last.

‘This is very difficult for me,’ said Kirsty and she bit her
bottom lip. She had not said no, not yet. Clare saw the chink in Kirsty’s armour, the glimmer of hope, and went for it.