After Ever After (24 page)

‘Fine, there is more than one person who can play the piano in the town, Bill. Have you forgotten one former sixties rock star who’s been longing to step into your shoes for some time now?’

Bill tosses his ponytail and mumbles, ‘I don’t think one top fifty novelty hit about a talking flower qualifies you as a rock star,’ but his stand clearly crumbles when he thinks of his rival taking over his place.

‘Um, excuse me?’ I pipe up. ‘I don’t want it. I mean I don’t want the lead, you should give it to Clare, I mean, she’d be much better and …’

Clare pushes in front of me. ‘Look, stop all this fuss. Kitty will be better for the part. Of course she’s more believable. I don’t mind, really, all right? So let’s leave it at that then.’ She finishes and, turning on her heel, walks out of the hall.

‘At last a voice of reason. Right, so first rehearsal is next Wednesday and …’

I look at Mr Crawley and Gareth and head out of the hall after her. The night has taken on a chill and as I walk out on to the high street I find myself folding my arms against the cold. I know she can’t have gone far – her coat’s inside and I’ve got her son at home. I look around me and see that in fact she hasn’t gone anywhere at all. Instead she’s sitting on a bench right outside the town hall door, her face in her hands.

‘Oh mate.’ I sit next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. She looks up, and, although her face is wet with tears, she smiles at me.

‘I’m fine, I’m fine. I mean, of course they’re not going to want a fat Calamity Jane, are they? I mean, whoever heard of such thing!’ She laughs without joy and looks away from me. ‘I blame Mr Edwards, he was always doing that to me at school, making me think I could be more that I am.’

I take her hands.

‘Clare, for one thing, if they want me then they’ve got a fat Calamity Jane, and for another, it’s a stupid am dram musical, its not exactly a sensible way to judge the success of your life. Anyway, I won’t take the part. I just won’t turn up next week. I don’t even want it, for God’s sake. Imagine what Fergus is going to say when I tell him he’s got to come in from a hard day at work and look after the baby every Wednesday for weeks! It’s stupid.’

Clare returns her gaze to me and smiles.

‘Don’t give up the part. I want you to do it. If you leave, then I’ll have to, and, well, at least now I know I’ll see Gareth once a week if I’m coming here, and it’s a night out after all.’ A small smile curls around her mouth. ‘I’m sure Fergus will want to help out with Ella, and don’t mind me, I’m just overreacting, that’s all.’ She lifts her face to the cooling balm of the night and I search her face, wondering how much unhappiness she manages to hide there.

‘Well, okay,’ I say hesitantly before I remember what I have been dying to tell her ever since she gave her performance. ‘Gareth was blown away, by the way, when you were singing. He said, and I quote, that you were “amazing”.’

Clare wipes the heels of her hands across her face, leaving small smudges of mascara in brown crescents under her eyes.

‘Really?’ she says, cautiously pleased.

‘Really,’ Gareth says, leaning on the wall by the steps, now wearing a long sheepskin coat that looks undeniably sexy.

‘Did you used to be in the SAS?’ I say, slightly flustered. ‘You are always popping up out of nowhere!’

He laughs. ‘Territorials for a while back in Wales, but I think I’m just naturally a quiet person. Light on my feet, you know, like an animal?’ He performs a faux tap dance, finishing with a low bow. He crouches down next to Clare. ‘You
were
amazing,’ he says softly, holding her gaze in the liquid amber of his eyes. ‘So, who fancies a quick drink?’

‘Oh no, I’d better get back,’ I say quickly. Gareth’s sudden display of intimacy with Clare has sent a sudden jolt through my system that I am not very pleased to note seems like jealousy. I think of Fergus for the first time this evening, and long to be with him, but Clare’s eyes bore into me, willing me to accept Gareth’s invite. After all, if I go home, then so must she.

‘Oh, well, maybe just a very quick half …’ I say reluctantly.

‘Kitty! You left this!’ Mr Crawley comes out of the hall and hands Clare her coat and me my red zip-up tracksuit top. I smile gratefully and put it on, drawing the hood up over my ears against the chill of the breeze. Mr Crawley helps Clare into her coat. ‘With all the fuss, I haven’t been able to say well done. I’m sorry, Clare, because you were wonderful, but I think Kitty will do us all proud, don’t you?’

Clare shrugs and stands up. ‘Yeah, I’m sure she will. Are you coming for a drink?’ she asks him.

Mr Crawley looks surprised and disconcerted in turn before rearranging his face into his normal amiable demeanour and shaking his head.

‘Ah no, better get back home. I’ll see you soon.’ He kisses me lightly on the cheek and then Clare, and eyes Gareth. ‘Make sure they get home safely, there’s all sorts hanging around this time of night,’ he says, and with one last look over his shoulder he heads for the car park.

‘Bloody old fogey,’ Gareth says with a mischievous chuckle, linking arms with both Clare and me. ‘Who does he think he is, your granny?’

For fifteen minutes I look at my watch and feel anxious while Gareth tells Clare about his home town and how he got involved in the territorial army before he chucked it all in to be a gardener.

‘When it came down to it,’ he says, leaning on the bar, ‘I’m not the sort of bloke who wants to kill things, not even in principle. I’m the sort of bloke who likes to nurture stuff, make it grow.’ He flicks his hair off his shoulders. ‘I think that’s what gives me a greater understanding of motherhood, because I’m quite maternal myself.’

Clare watches him, transfixed with admiration. I hate to break the moment, but I’m starting to feel like a gooseberry and I think I’ve done my bit for the night. What’s more, seeing Gareth’s pulling technique in the third person is far less entertaining than I had imagined.

‘Look, guys, I’m sorry, I think we’d better go, Clare,’ I say apologetically. ‘God knows what condition Fergus will be in after four hours with two babies.’ As I say it I realise that I am rather hoping that he
is
frazzled and despairing when I turn up because then I’ll be the hero for once, and he’ll realise exactly what it’s been like for the last few weeks and maybe
then
he’ll understand.

Gareth raises an all too perceptive eyebrow.

‘Well, surely it must be your turn for a break by now, isn’t it?’ he says with an affable shrug. ‘I’m just saying, it won’t hurt him to help you out a bit, that’s all.’

Clare sighs and finishes her drink.

‘Yeah, I wish I had someone on call to help me like Fergus. Ted’ll think he’s been adopted.’ She smiles at Gareth. ‘He’s probably celebrating! Thanks for the drink, though.’

‘No worries,’ Gareth says warmly. ‘I’ve not got many friends round here yet and it’s nice to meet someone I can really talk to.’

Clare looks as if she might float a couple of inches off the floor.

‘Right, I’ll just nip to the loo and we can be off,’ she says, and as she heads to the back of the pub there is a visible bounce in her step.

‘Are you all right?’ Gareth asks, pre-empting my attempt to quiz him on how much he likes Clare. I’m taken aback, surprised by the speed with which he refocuses his undivided attention.

‘Me? Yeah, I’m fine,’ I say. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

He leans a little closer to me and grins, showing just the tips of his immaculately kept white teeth.

‘You shouldn’t feel guilty about being out for a couple of hours, you know. I know I’m not that experienced in serious relationships, but I do know that sometimes a bit of a break from them can actually improve them, if you want it to.’ He grins at me, and I find myself smiling back at him in agreement.

‘I know, I know. A drink can’t do any harm, can it?’ I sip the last of my drink, tasting the acrid sharpness of the lemon in the bottom of the glass. ‘So, Clare was fantastic tonight, don’t you think?’

Gareth studies me for a moment before curling up one side of his mouth in a lazy half smile. ‘She’s a good singer,’ he says. ‘She’s not my type, though, so don’t get any ideas, okay, Cilla?’

I feign a look of shock and hide my disappointment. Maybe he doesn’t really know what his type is. I didn’t really know what my type was until I met Fergus. Until I met Fergus I thought men like Gareth were my type.

‘I’m not!’ I protest too loudly. ‘But she’s really lovely, you know, you should get to know her.’ And then. ‘Anyway, you were flirting with her like there was no tomorrow back there!’

He fixes me with his intense eyes, and for what seems like an eternity we regard each other.

‘Was I flirting? See, I never think of it as flirting. I think of it as being a good listener and having empathy with the person I’m talking to. It’s you women that get it all mixed up. The trouble is you’re so surprised when a man actually listens to you that you come over all funny.’

He smiles, and I shrug in acknowledgement.

‘You have great teeth,’ I say out of nowhere, and he laughs, clearly pleased by the compliment.

‘Well, my ma always told me, keep your teeth nice and clean and girls are more likely to want to kiss you.’ He drops his gaze to his feet and looks back up at me through a fringe of thick lashes. ‘I’m still hoping,’ he says with a shrug, and I find myself smiling back at him, drawn in by his strange combination of naive insouciance and artifice. He reminds me of a much younger man, a schoolboy testing his sexuality, rather than a practised womaniser. And yet I get the feeling that he is far more of the latter than the former.

‘All set then,’ he says to Clare over my shoulder as if the conversation we’ve just had never took place.

‘Yep, back to the grindstone,’ she smiles up at him. ‘I’ll see you around then?’

‘I expect so,’ Gareth says warmly. ‘See you, Kitty.’

One of the first things I learnt to like about living in this town was the sky, especially at night when the weather is clear and the stars are visible with a crystal clarity I never experienced in London. As we begin our walk home, I link my arm though Clare’s and crane my neck, looking for Orion’s belt.

‘That went quite well, didn’t it?’ Clare says anxiously. ‘I mean, I didn’t seem too needy or anything? Did I?’ I think of Gareth’s claim of empathy.

‘No!’ I say. ‘No. I think he understood you very well.’

‘It seemed as if he did like me, didn’t it? You know, I mean I think in time he might really like me.’ Clare bobs on my arm. ‘What do you think?’

‘Ummmm.’ I spot the three bright stars of the belt and make a wish. ‘Yeah! For sure!’ I tell her in my best upbeat tone. Somehow I feel I’ve started the ball rolling on something that I’m going to find very hard to stop, and when the fall-out comes I’m going to be smack in the middle of it.

From outside the house the glow of soft lighting in the living room is the only visible sign of life, and the wailing I had expected to hear echoing down the street is not evident.

‘Ominously quiet,’ I say to Clare as I let us in. ‘Maybe they’ve gagged and bound him and are penning a ransom note in crayon even as we speak.’

‘Nah,’ Clare says. ‘They’ll have eaten the crayons first.’

I push open the living room door. Fergus is sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his back leaning against the sofa. On either side of him are the large red sofa cushions, and arranged on each of them in angelic repose is one sleeping baby. I can’t help but smile.

‘How’d it go?’ Fergus and I whisper to each other at the same time.

‘Fine – I got the lead!’ I reply.

‘Fine – no trouble at all! Really? The lead! That’s fantastic,’ Fergus says, his eyes full of pleasure. I can’t decide which revelation is more surprising: my theatrical success or his miracle touch with the children.

He gets up awkwardly and steps over Ella. From the doorway I can feel Clare watching us as we embrace. I break away self-consciously.

‘I can’t believe you managed all this on your own,’ I say. ‘I’m really impressed.’

‘Ah, well, it wasn’t quite …’ Before Fergus can finish Georgina bustles in with two mugs of tea.

‘Excuse me, dear. Oh, you’re back, I didn’t hear you come in!’

I look from her to Fergus and back again. ‘You called your mum in?’ For some reason it seems to me akin to cheating at a maths exam. Georgina hands one mug of tea to Fergus and another one to Clare – men and guests first, that’s her rule. ‘I’ll make some more for us girls, shall I?’ The babies stir at her voice and Clare sets down the tea and goes to Ted, picking him up and rocking him back off to sleep before settling on the cushionless sofa.

‘Yes, I’ll help you,’ I say pertly, and as I follow Georgina out of the room I scrutinise Fergus, who’s standing with hands on his hips, smiling stupidly.

‘And I will too,’ Fergus says, and we all file out together leaving Clare with her son in her arms staring into the real-effect gas fire.

‘So when did you arrive then?’ I ask, unable to keep the slightly accusatory note from my voice.

‘Oh, hours ago,’ Georgina beams. ‘He was in a
terrible
state, I can tell you. Trying to change the little boy’s nappy, he’d done a number two, and then Ella thought it might be fun to climb in all the mess and crawled off with the nappy stuck to her knees. When I arrived, all three of them needed a good bath and a scrub. I put his clothes in the wash.’

She is clearly very proud of herself for being useful, and I am grudgingly impressed that she was prepared to compromise her Jasper Conran trousers over baby poo. I smile as I visualise the scenario.

‘Is that really how it happened?’ I turn to ask Fergus, who stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs.

‘Sort of. Well, yeah, pretty much exactly as it goes. Mum saved my life.’

Georgina smiles to herself as she refills the kettle, delighted to be able to do something to redress the balance of opinion after her last stint with her grandchild.

‘Thanks, Georgina, it was good of you to drop everything and come over,’ I say formally.

‘Delighted to, dear, any time, you know that,’ she says, deliberating ignoring my thinned lips and stiff shoulders.