The First Wife (8 page)

‘Sometimes it’s nice,’ I said, forgetting my nerves. ‘Don’t you think? Sometimes you can look at the water and the waves, and it can make you forget about other things. Because it just carries on, no matter what.’

‘Oh, Lily,’ he said, and he stared at me. I was tongue-tied all over again, and desperate to end this conversation, so I knocked my coffee back and went upstairs, without a word, to carry on with my work.

December

It was dark outside the carriage, by the time my train drew into Penmere, and I could see the trees whipping around in the freezing wind. Much of the rest of the country had snow, and I was hoping we would, too. Most years, everyone else had snow and we had rain, but for the past couple of winters, even Cornwall had managed enough snow to get the gardens populated by oddly-proportioned snowmen, and the schools closed for a day or two.

I was cold, through and through. The train, a little one-carriage one, was warm and a bit smelly, because it was crammed with people, most of them students, but it was going to take more than a sweaty train to warm my bones up again. I smiled to myself, and thought back to the strangely normal, amazing day I had just had. Yesterday, I had bumped into Al in the library. I was picking up an armful of Russian novels, while his hands were full of children’s picture books.

‘You’ve got a child?’ I asked, enormously surprised.

He laughed. ‘Jesus, no way! Lily, you’d know if I had a child. No, my friend Boris has two kids. I’m going to see them this afternoon, said I’d take some books along. Can’t afford to buy them, so I’m providing a mobile-library service.’

I smiled. ‘You’ve got a friend called Boris –’ I said, pleased. ‘And I’m getting out Russian books. Is Boris Russian?’

Al shook his head. ‘Not even slightly, I’m afraid. Real name Stanley Finnigan.’

‘So, why’s he called Boris?’

‘He’s the spitting image of Boris Becker. Who, come to think of it, does not look at all the way a Boris ought to look. Not at all brooding or Russian.’

‘Oh.’

‘Want a coffee?’

‘Can’t,’ I told him proudly. ‘Got to get back to the house because I’m looking after Tommy this afternoon. Julia’s got to drive the twins to see their dad, and he lives in Launceston, so I said I’d have Tommy – he’s the youngest – while she does it. “Reduced rates for babysitting” – remember?’

‘Hey,’ said Al, understanding at once how pleased I was. ‘Look at you, doing your bit. Are you feeling more at home?’

‘I’m getting there. The strange thing was, I was acting cheerful and normal, but secretly I was miserable. Now, though, I’m almost starting to believe my act. I’ve started talking to Mia and once you get to know her, she’s not as grumpy as all that. She actually seems to look up to me, bizarrely. I mean, who could possibly look up to someone who’s spent all their life taking care of old people, and who has never even tasted beer?’

I was aware that we were standing in the middle of the library, and people were having to walk around us. No one seemed to mind. This, I told myself, was because standing in the library chatting was a normal thing to do. I was successfully passing myself off as someone ordinary.

‘Of course she looks up to you, you idiot.’

‘Only because I’m older than her. She’s exactly the sort of pretty, cool girl who would have hated me at school. God, nothing gives people like that a laugh better than a teacher doing the register and coming to the name Lilybella Button. Lily Bellybutton was only the start of it. The worst thing was when the teachers colluded with them. You know, all snigger together to get in with the cool kids. Everyone’s happy, apart from one – pretty good strike rate.’

He winced. ‘I can imagine. Right, what about tomorrow? Why don’t we go somewhere – have an adventure?’

And so we caught the first train this morning, changed at Truro, and then at St Erth, and ended up in St Ives. I had hazy memories of going there once, years ago, on a summer’s day. We had parked the Mini in a car park on a hill by a church, and I had run down a steep hill towards town and fallen over and grazed my knees. I remembered Grandma helping me up, cleaning my grazes, and buying huge plasters to cover both injuries. Granddad bought me an enormous strawberry ice cream to cheer me up. I could recapture the feeling of amazement that they cared enough to do that, and that told me that it must have happened soon after I went to live with them.

Today had been a different matter altogether. We stepped off the train under a leaden sky, and walked to the beach, where there were a few people, a lot of jumping dogs, and waves that were massive and hostile. We walked along the sand, quickly, to warm up, and stood on Porthminster Beach and looked across the bay.

‘That’s Hayle,’ Al said. ‘And that long beach is Gwithian. See the lighthouse over there? Godrevy.’

‘That’s Virginia Wolf’s lighthouse, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Her book –
To the Lighthouse?’

‘Trust you to know that, Lily Bellybutton.’

St Ives was quiet, and as we walked through the town, it felt almost ghostly.

‘This place is insane in the summer,’ Al said. ‘So busy, you can’t do anything. It’s much better to come at this time of year, when it’s cold and grey and the light is so other-worldly.’

I looked around. We were on a lane called Teetotal Street, lined with little terraced cottages. The light was shifting all the time, and right at that moment, a black cloud moved, and the sun came out. The sky was dark, but the light was, briefly, bright.

‘I’m frozen,’ I said. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Now,’ said Al, ‘we go and shelter in a pub, and you have half a pint of beer.’

I walked with him, but I was not keen. ‘I’m not drinking half a pint. I can’t take the hangover.’

The pub was tucked away in a back street, and it was warm and busy. I stepped across the threshold, onto a brightly-patterned carpet, and wrinkled my face.

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Al, turning and looking back at me.

‘It’s a bit smelly,’ I confided.

‘Oh, come on, Princess,’ he cajoled. ‘Find us a table and I’ll get you a drink. We’ll have some crisps too, to line your stomach. You can’t live in the modern world without being able to put away a modest amount of alcohol. Consider it part of your ongoing education.’

Although it was still the morning, just, there were plenty of people in here. No one looked at us. Al was soon leaning on the bar, holding out a ten-pound note, waving it at the barmaid.

When he came to sit down next to me, he put the small glass of beer in front of me with a flourish. I smiled at him. I felt as though I had known Al for a long time. Unlike Harry Summer, he did not make my knees go weak. Unlike Fergus Summer, I was pretty sure he never flirted with me. He was, I was starting to think, a proper friend.

‘Thank you,’ I said. He lifted his own glass, which was filled with clear bubbly liquid.

‘Cheers,’ he said, and we clinked glasses. I looked at his. There was ice and two thin slices of lemon in it.

‘What’s that?’ I asked. ‘Is it gin and tonic?’ I knew about gin and tonic because it featured in books a lot, and because Granddad had always reminisced about it. If it was gin and tonic I was going to ask for a sip.

‘No, it’s not,’ Al said, laughing at me in a nice way. ‘I’m impressed at your keenness to learn, though. It’s lemonade. Bog-standard kiddies’ lemonade, I’m afraid.’

‘Seriously? Why?’

He answered straight away.

‘Because when I was down on my luck, I drank enough lager to last me a lifetime, that’s why. Got myself a bit of a problem with it. The first thing Mrs Jennings did was to get me off it. She got me some stuff that made me sick whenever I had it. It actually worked, after a few false starts. Anyway, enjoy your beer.’

I grimaced. ‘It’s not very ladylike, is it? For me to sit here knocking back the beer while you’re on lemonade?’

‘Oh,’ said Al. ‘I had no idea we were concerned with being ladylike. Don’t be so stupid. Drink up.’

I took a sip and made a face. ‘I only like white wine,’ I told him. ‘And that’s only by comparison with everything else.’

‘Now that is
very
ladylike.’

‘Did you have a good time with Boris and his children?’

Al shook his head. ‘Yes, and no. Not really. It’s complicated.’

I leaned back against the wall. ‘Go on then. Tell me about it. I would absolutely love to hear about someone else’s complications.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yep.’

‘OK. Prepare for a sorry tale.’

I rearranged myself so I was sitting up straight, brushed my lap, and looked at him.

‘Prepared,’ I announced.

‘Right. I’ve been – well, I don’t want to shock you, but – I’ve been “seeing” Boris, as it were, for nearly a year now. It’s all snatched moments, not as romantic as one might like. We met online, he was married, he still is. I’m his bit on the side.’

He paused, watching me carefully, gauging my reaction.

‘You’re. . . gay?’ I managed to say.

‘Yes, Lily. I’m . . . gay. So’s Boris. But he’s got his little ones and he doesn’t want them to hate him, which he seems to think would be inevitable if they knew. They’re two and four, just babies, and he can’t seem to . . .’

Al straightened his back and pursed his lips, visibly pulling himself together. ‘Well, he can’t make the break. He says everyone’s better off if he carries on living the way he is, staying with his wife, being a dad to his kids, doing all the domestic stuff and meeting me when he can. For months I’ve been trying to get him to see that this isn’t fucking 1897. It’s not illegal any more. He’s making an idiot of his wife, because she has no idea, as far as I can tell. He could get out, give her a chance to meet someone who’s going to make her happy without creeping around the moment her back’s turned. It’s positively cool to have a gay dad these days, and he’s a great dad, so the children would be fine. He’s just not brave enough to do it.’

He sighed. ‘I thought that yesterday, me meeting his kids – he brought them over to Falmouth to give his wife a bit of a break, that’s what he said to her – that might bring things a little closer. But he was so scared. Looking over his shoulder all the time. Couldn’t wait to leave.’

‘Oh, Al.’ I was so far out of my depth that I could not think of a single thing to say. This was impossible to react to. I tried to imagine Grandma’s reaction. ‘How very modern,’ I said, echoing her.

Al roared with laughter. ‘Oh, Lily,’ he said. ‘I do love you. Thank you. Yes, how very modern indeed. Although I’ve no doubt it’s a problem that’s as old as the human race. It makes me want to reach for your beer, that’s for sure.’

I pulled it away from his grasp. I seemed to have drunk almost half of it while I listened to his story.

We had chips on the seashore for lunch, shivering as we did so, and walked from one beach to the next. We talked a bit about Boris, and a bit about me. It was easy, and I became fairly certain that I might have an actual friend.

The train slowed down as it drew into Penmere. I stood in a queue for the door, along with about half the people in the carriage. The wind was wild as I stepped onto the platform and huddled into myself. I put my head down and started walking. It would take me ten minutes to get home from here, and by the time I got there I would be warm, if I walked fast enough.

Everyone had their heads down, so it was not surprising when I walked into somebody. Their coat was thick and covered in tiny drops of water.

‘Sorry,’ I said, barely looking up. I diverted my course to get around him.

‘That’s quite all right,’ said Harry Summer. I stopped in my tracks. ‘At least you’re well wrapped up in case of collision,’ he added.

I turned into a stupid gawping person. My stomach tied itself in knots, my palms tingled, my knees almost gave way. The intensity of the look he was giving me made me wonder if he recognised me, but why would he remember a blushing girl eating a pasty? I hoped he wouldn’t.

‘You’re Harry Summer,’ I said quickly, in what I had meant to be a casual voice.

‘Guilty as charged.’ He smiled an easy smile. His nose was red with cold, but he still exuded charisma.

‘I’m Lily. Your cleaner.’

‘No!’ He stopped, put a hand on each of my shoulders, and turned me around to face him. He took a few steps towards the station light, and I walked where he guided me. Then he pulled the hat off my head, so that my hair fell all over my shoulders and down my back. We were both lit with a queasy yellowish glow. I was horribly aware of my cold red nose which, unlike his red nose, I knew to be shiny and unsightly. ‘This,’ he said, looking into my eyes, ‘is what my cleaner looks like? We thought Fergus was making it up about your gorgeous eyes and amazing hair. You really did walk in on him in the bath?’

I had never felt pretty like this before. My ugly nose had vanished. I had never felt interesting before. I was smiling so hard I thought my face would be permanently rearranged. I had gorgeous eyes. Harry Summer had said so and so had his brother.

‘Yes, I did,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to. He was very nice about it.’ Then I added: And it’s nice to meet you at last,’ because it was clear that I needed to say something else.

‘And you, too. Lily, the beautiful cleaner. You do a stunning job, by the way. We adore coming home on a Tuesday. It’s our very favourite day of the week. No one else has Tuesday as their favourite day.’ He said nothing more, but he kept looking into my eyes. I stared at his face and tried to memorise it. He was different in real life from the way I had imagined him. There was a chemistry about him, something indefinable about the way he made me feel, that made the rest of the world dull and drab.

I walked home elated, and baffled. I was walking on air. He was married and totally unattainable, but I didn’t care. I relived our brief encounter, all the way home. That was enough for me.

A few hours later, Julia tapped on my door.

‘Hi!’ I called.

‘Sorry to interrupt,’ she said. ‘Phone for you.’ She handed me the phone and dropped her voice to a loud whisper. ‘No idea who it is. A woman!’

I took the receiver. Nobody ever called me.

‘Hello?’ I asked.