Coming Around Again (15 page)

“This isn’t working out.” Stella said it all in a
rush, without looking directly at her latest relationship disaster.

She knew what had done it. Niels and his
do you
wish things were different
bullshit. Doubt weaved its destructive way
through her brain and into her heart, firmly and decisively closing her legs to
the man who had been nothing but sweet to her.

She was back to stage one. Denial. All because
Christmas had gone without a fight, a bad word, and most disappointingly, not a
languid feel of any of her woollen-covered body parts. Maybe things could work.
If Niels admitted how badly he’d hurt her and he’d inevitably pushed her into
the arms of other people, then yes, they could start to work through it all.
But came New Year’s Eve and Stella made dinner for twenty-odd people.

Before Royce turned up, Niels took the twins to his
home to cheer midnight together. Without her. The whole country decided to get
on the phone at exactly the same time and for the first time, she was unable to
speak to her sons at the break of a New Year. Will took it unnaturally hard.

When she finally got through to them, Will
tearfully accused her of abandoning them. She managed to calm him down, even
had him agreeing that she couldn’t leave her friends alone, not when he had his
father with him. Niels’ apologies fell on deaf ears. For the rest of the night,
until six a.m. when people had wound down, either to falling asleep around the
house or left, Stella seemed inflamed with righteous anger. Nothing Royce said
or did could erase the sound of her little boy, if only by a few minutes younger,
in absolute bits.

“He’s a few streets down the road, he’ll be fine,”
Royce repeated until Stella calmly told him to shut the fuck up. She apologised
for swearing, and then told him he was welcome to bill her for a cab home.

Royce stayed in the spare room—the bed her
ex-husband had occupied until that morning. He helped her clean up the mess
left by friends and family, looking like a beaten puppy, which enraged her
further. Men feeling sorry for themselves at every turn.

Will burst into the house as Royce put away the mop
and ran straight for his mother.

Niels beeped his horn from his car and disappeared.
Danny looked Royce up and down with scepticism. “We have a lady who cleans
every week, you know,” he said, with such imperiousness Stella nearly laughed.

“Don’t be rude,” she told him. Her son threw out a
careless apology, blinked at her with his huge eyes, then held out his arms for
a hug.

“Missed you, Muma,” he murmured against her cheek,
nudging his brother out of his way to squeeze her tightly.

Royce cleared his throat and jerked a thumb towards
the door. “I’m going to go. Leave you to it.”

“Sorry,” Stella mouthed as he heaved on his heavy
coat and closed the door behind him. “What do you want to eat?” she asked them
both.

“Aren’t you hungover?” Will asked. “Dad said you’d
probably be hungover.”

“Your dad is so mean about me, I don’t know why I
ever married him,” she said with a sigh. “Now. Bacon. Eggs. Sausages. Oh wait,
I’ve still got those chicken pieces.”

“Aww, Muma, can we?” Danny asked, his tone lilting
with joy. “Only for today, today’s special.”

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, indulgently watching them
gather plates and pile up whatever they wanted to eat from the remains of the
feast, nibbles that hadn’t been oven-baked and pour themselves huge glasses of
sparkling juice that would make it impossible for them to sleep that night, but
she didn’t care. For that day she couldn’t bear to have them out of her sight.

In her now-clean and friendless living room, Stella
cuddled up with the boys and they watched all the New Year’s Day films
together, only getting up to get more food, drink, and occasionally a warm
mince pie and some spray cream. Tempted to find out if her ex-husband survived
the drama of yesterday, she sent a text.
OK?

Perfectly fine. Boys better?

Perfectly so. Your week starts on Friday. Do you
have everything?

Of course. Let me know when you’re free for us to
have a chat.

About what?

“Muma!” Will growled at her. “Your phone’s
interfering with the TV.”

“Nonsense,” she returned, barely looking up from
her phone, the three tell-tale dots of an incoming message giving rise to
ridiculous excitement.

“You’re not watching, that’s what he means,” Danny
pointed the tail of a battered prawn at her. “No phones during Harry Potter.”

“I’m sorry, since when do you run this house?” she
demanded.

Danny gave a shrug. “I am the only man of the
house.”

“Oi!” Will protested.

“It’s true. I’m older. So, yeah. I have to look
after you. And lay down some rules.”

Stella burst out laughing. “Child… Just… There are
some chocolates in the pantry. Go and get them for me.”

“K.” Danny got to his feet and rushed out as the
text message finally came in.

About a lot of things. New Year. New start.

We’re fine as we are. What else do you want us to
do?

Plenty. Let me know when you have some time. Love
to the boys.

Harry Potter in all his doomed glory held no
distraction from her. What did Niels want from her? Why did he seem so intent
on upsetting the apple cart, when they had just fixed it all? What was to be
gained? Or was he lonely…

The questions plagued her, itching at her like a
pox. The New Year proved to be busy at both salons. People taking the time to
try new things, take advantage of their winter offers. Stella didn’t seem to
have any time to have the anticipated chat with Niels. It did do its job of
forcing her to assess her plans for Royce. She couldn’t help but feel he was
wasting his time with her.

They’d met after the Alec debacle, at Eden’s firm,
surprisingly enough. Stella, running late and in a fluster, interrupted Eden’s
meeting with Royce. As a contractor, Royce said he had an unfortunate habit of
either suing or being sued. With Eden’s help, he would recover material and
labour costs for redesigning a bathroom for a newly-moneyed wife with airs and
graces that belied her working class roots.

Eden ventured nothing about Stella, and it was left
to Stella to admit she was there to finalise her full and sole ownership of the
house she’d bought with her former husband a million years ago. Royce asked her
if it meant she was free for a drink or two. Stella accepted, while Eden
watched with eyes widened. Poor thing. The confidentiality issue really did
screw her.

On their first date as it were, Royce told her he
liked children. “Not in a sexual way,” he protested immediately. It made Stella
laugh, and quite freely show pictures of her two monsters.

“Good looking kids. They don’t look much like you,”
he ventured. True. They didn’t. The older they turned, the more it seemed God
had moulded them in their father’s image.

“Why’d you and your ex split?” Royce asked, as the
drinks turned to a late dinner. “It you don’t mind me asking.”

“There’s a point where you stop caring. And you
find more enjoyment out of the other person’s pain than you do their successes.
Niels saw that before I did. I should probably thank him.”

“Are you better now? Happier?”

The instant answer was no. Resoundingly no. Still.
People kept telling her she’d get over it. It’d be easier one day. “Yes.
Nothing worse than feeling guilt for another person.”

The lie, seemingly so small, grew with any
Niels-related question.
Do you get on
? Famously these days.
All those
feelings gone?
Not even a flicker
. Do you want to get back together?
Never. You have exes for a reason. It’s like trawling through a scrap yard for
your own rubbish. Pointless.

Lies. She couldn’t stop herself. Now she saw it.
Sitting on Niels’ lap and shaving him on Christmas morning had been more erotic
than every single time she’d gone to bed with Royce combined. And now. Now the
truth had to be told.

“I don’t understand.” Royce made her feel as if
she’d killed Bambi’s mother right in front of him. “Is it because of what
happened at New Year?”

“What do you mean?”

“With the twins not… Well, not reacting well to me.
That’s because they have no background. They don’t know who I am for you to be
upset.”

A logical leap, but a leap, nonetheless. “It’s not
the twins. It’s me. I ran headlong into this thinking I was all right,
completely forgetting the fact that I’d been married for ten years.”

“It’s coming up to two years since your divorce.”

Since divorce proceedings started, but who wants to
split hairs?
“I know. And I’m only
really now dealing with it.”

Royce looked away, his face taut with
disappointment and—fair enough—anger. “You told me you were over him.”

“I thought I was,” she admitted. Really, she should
have let him come to the house, rather than embarrassing him in public.

“This is bullshit, Stella. We’ve only just
established everything.”

“Better now before it goes any further.”

“You mean before you break my heart? Mission
failed.” Even in his sneer, he sounded tearful. Oh God. This was all Niels’
fault. Him and his
shave me
rubbish.

Stella leaned over the table and caught Royce’s
fist in both hands. “What can I do? How can I make this better?”

“Change your mind,” he said desperately. “Let’s
keep going. It’ll go away. Whatever you feel about him, eventually it’ll go
away.”

“And you’re willing to wait that long? I can’t do
that to you, Royce. You think I’m hurting you now, it’ll be a million times
worse even a few months down the line. Don’t make me into that woman.”

Royce sighed heavily and got to his feet. “I’m
afraid you already are. Don’t worry about the drinks. I’ve already settled up.”
He gazed at her for a moment. “Bye, Stella.”

Sitting conspicuously on her own only increased
Stella’s disturbance and vexed her inner turmoil. She stewed. Steamed. Fried in
her own anger and guilt and shame. Anger with herself for letting inappropriate
feelings destroy something that had been sweet and lovely. Feelings that really
needed to die a death to kill Niels a thousand times over. She took to reading
the divorce petition until it was burned in her brain, every single last word.

Royce, seemingly without any self-respect, tried to
change her mind. With flowers. With calls. Emails. Offers of trips abroad, just
the two of them. All Stella could do was to remind him how new their
relationship had been. And to pump so much desperate effort into something so
fragile would cause death, if it had not already died. Overwatering a seedling.

Niels obligingly stayed away. Perhaps her shortness
carried well over text messages. Ignoring him altogether never worked out well
for her and it was with relief that she collected the boys from school. She
allowed them to take her away from her relationship problems by playing a
rousing game of War, played with plastic guns and balls, running around the
house and causing a little bit of damage. After dinner, homework to allow them
to have the remainder of the weekend free, and a film, she packed them off to
bed, with the promise of something exciting to do the next day.

As soon as she sat down, she saw a text from Niels
and the rage flew out of control. All he’d said was
Boys okay?

No thanks to you.

What is that supposed to mean?

She ignored it. Her phone rang. She threw it across
the living room. Luckily it bounced off the armchair to fall harmlessly onto
the pile carpet where it bounced, vibrating with an incoming phone call.

Stella poured herself a fortifying glass of brandy.
Better. Much better. When the doorbell rang, she knew her delightfully
irritating ex-husband would be on the other side of the door. She opened it,
her mouth twisted in disapproval. Hair wet from rain and waving a bottle of
Malbec, Niels sent her a persuasive smile. “Are you going to let the father of
your children drown out here?”

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug.

“Let me in.” His voice soft with concern, led
Stella to do what she always did around him. Obey. Standing to one side, she
closed the door behind him as he shook droplets of rain from his coat and
scarf. He handed over the wine and said, “Do you mind opening that? Warm me up
better than a tea.”

With a heavy, put-upon sigh, Stella padded to the
kitchen and grabbed two glasses and an opener. Niels followed her and she
pointed an arm to her office. “In there, please. Don’t get too comfortable, you
won’t be staying long.”

Eyebrows raised, Niels did as she bid, sitting down
in her office, with his legs elegantly crossed and a bemused expression on his
face.

“Now my love,” he murmured, “what is it you think
I’ve done?”