Please Don't Stop The Music (16 page)

Then
one day I came in from the workshop to find Rosie crying on the
sofa. She’d been intermittently tearful lately, but I had thought
the worst was over. I minded Harry so that she could work, and his
sleeping patterns were becoming a lot more regular, so she wasn’t
losing as many hours as she had when he’d been tiny.

‘
What’s up?’ I sat next to her. Harry waved his chunky arms in
acknowledgement and grinned at me from her lap.

‘
I’m
such a failure, Jem.’ Rosie clutched Harry round his middle. ‘I’m
no kind of mother for Harry. You and Jason, you’re more his parents
than I am – look at the way he’s so pleased to see you! He’s never
like that with me.’ She dissolved into more heaving sobs, squeezing
Harry until his expression changed.

‘
That’s rubbish. You’re his mum and he knows it.’ I patted
Rosie’s back.

‘
And Saskia’s just sent back that last lot
of cards, says they’re not wintery enough so I’ve got to redo them
all. And I’ve been so busy with her stuff that two other customers
have withdrawn their orders, so I’ve
got
to turn in her cards or there
won’t be enough money …’ She gulped. ‘I’ve even stopped feeding
Harry.’

‘
You’ve what?’ I looked at Harry, who was showing no real
signs of malnourishment. He blew a bubble at me.

‘
I’ve started him on formula. It’s so much easier, not having
to spend hours expressing milk, sitting in that grotty little
bathroom with all the mould and that black stuff that we can’t
identify, with that stupid pump that doesn’t work! And all the
books say that you’re supposed to breast feed for at least nine
months and I didn’t even manage four! I’m crap, Jem, and it’s only
a matter of time before Harry realises it.’

I
put my arms around the two of them, despite Harry’s muffled
protest. ‘You’re working too hard, that’s all. How about a day out?
Something to look forward to.’

‘
I
can’t
. That’s the whole point. I’ve
got all these cards to do. I’ve barely got time to do the laundry,
let alone take time off.’

She
had got it bad. ‘Do you want me to take Harry today?’ I’d had him
every day for the last week and today was supposed to be Rosie’s
bonding day with him. She’d started off so well, playing with him
in his doorway-hung swing, but it looked as though things had gone
downhill. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘
I
already asked Jason if he’d have him,’ Rosie snottily admitted.
‘But he’s too busy as well. He’s off to London in the morning to
see some consortium or other. I don’t want to ask you again, Jem,
you have him so much –’

‘
I
don’t mind,’ I said. It was a bit of a lie. I’d been hoping to take
Harry to the workshop where Jason would amuse him by letting him
watch as he prepared his raw materials. I was beginning to worry
that Harry was going to grow up a trainspotter. ‘I’ll take him
out.’

‘
Oh,
if you’re going out we need some more nappies. And some sterilising
tablets.’

‘
OK,
I’ll shove him in his buggy and we’ll walk up to the shop. He likes
stopping off to see the cows in the top field on the
way.’

Wrong thing to say, Jemima. Rosie’s eyes
clouded with tears again. ‘You see! You see! I’m his
mum
and I don’t even
know that. I never get to see him liking cows …’ And she set off
crying again, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

‘
Things will get better. Now, parcel him up and I’ll strap him
in.’

Rosie pulled Harry’s jacket on him. ‘It looks like rain. And
the wind is chilly. If it gets too cold you will bring him back,
won’t you?’

‘
It’s the middle of summer and he’s got a raincover for the
buggy.’

‘
You
think I fuss too much, don’t you? Oh God, I’m turning into one of
those horrible mothers who won’t let the kids out on their own
until they’re forty and brush their adult son’s hair for them and
choose their clothes and –’

‘
Bye, Rosie.’ I determinedly set off down the path with Harry
cooing and gurgling his appreciation.

We stopped, as promised, to watch the huge
Friesians mooching around their field. One of them came and blew
gentle breaths over the gate at Harry and, when I lifted him from
his seat, ran a rough tongue over the top of his head, making him
chuckle. I couldn’t help but smile myself, it was one of those
moments when I could think of my own mother without tears. Although
I allowed nothing to come through but the memory of a sweetness in
the air synaesthetically linked to a stroked cheek, I knew she’d
loved us. I just
knew
it. It was something I’d held like a security blanket when
everything had gone so wrong, the knowledge that we’d been loved. I
gave Harry a little hug around his bulky middle as the cow puffed
milk-scented air down at us, feeling a wave of something that must
approach maternal love for the little boy, and wondered again how
she’d felt in those last few moments. Had she worried about me and
the boys as much as Rosie worried about Harry? Was she worried
then? Did she know what was happening, or did it all come so
quickly she didn’t even have time to think of us?

I
strapped Harry back in and pushed the buggy down to the crossroads
and into the main village street. Little Gillmoor only had one
shop, a grocers-cum-newsagent, where I bought the nappies and
steriliser tablets as requested and partook in a minor discussion
about the weather. It looked dodgy so I put the cover over the
buggy. Good move. Just as we’d started our walk home the rain
came.

Typical summer rain. It didn’t float in like a mist, it
dumped like an excavator. A tonne of water hit me on the head and
went straight through to my bones. Harry, snug under his waterproof
coating, giggled. I shivered and thought about heading back into
the shop when a car pulled up behind me.

‘
You’re wet.’

‘
No,
no, I’m fine. I like dripping.’

It
was Ben and I wouldn’t turn round.

‘
Would you like to get in?’ He cranked something up inside and
the car made a purring sound. ‘I’ve got heating.’

I
stomped back to the Audi, pushing Harry in front of me like a Roman
shield. ‘What are you doing round here?’ I asked as Ben opened the
passenger door to let me in. ‘Trying to pick up
schoolgirls?’

Ben
looked a little less rough today. He’d only got a couple of days’
worth of stubble on his face and his hair looked clean. ‘I came to
see you. To apologise. Things have been a bit shitty lately and I
haven’t been coping very well. I’ve taken it out on
you.’

‘
Huh.’ I wasn’t feeling very polite. Outside in his buggy
Harry began to grumble about the conditions.

‘
Do
you want to bring him in here? I could drive you both
home.’

‘
No
car seat. Rosie would dismember me.’

There was a difficult silence. Ben stared out of the
windscreen and drummed his fingers on the wheel, while I kept one
eye on Harry and merely squinted at Ben. He definitely looked
better. Less strung-out.

‘
I’ve thought a lot about what you said at Rosie’s dinner
party.’ He didn’t take his eyes off the rain rolling down the
glass.

‘
Oh?
Anything in particular or are all my words etched on your brain?’
Okay, so it was unnecessarily sarcastic, but I had wet pants and
all this moody staring and silence was beginning to get on my
nerves.

‘
About getting on with my life.’

I
stared at him. ‘What’s this, the Prozac kicking in?’

‘
Just common sense. Yours, before you make some cynical
remark. I’m thirty years old, Jemima, and I’m living like some kind
of medieval monk! Going with you to Saskia’s, it made me realise
what I’m missing out on.’

‘
Oh,’ I said. Wasn’t sure what he meant, was this some kind of
step-down from his untouchable position? Was that a step I wanted
him to take?

‘
Anyway. Part of the getting on with life thing. I wondered if
I might come round to yours one evening, cook you and Rosie a meal.
If you had to come to mine then you’d be worrying about babysitters
and taxis and stuff all evening. This way it’s only me that has to
get home.’

A
pause. Could I hear the words ‘or I could stay over’? Were they
echoing in some parallel universe?

‘
That sounds nice.’ There was the sofa, wasn’t there? Or the
workshop? He could bring a sleeping bag – ‘When?’

‘
How
about tomorrow? You don’t need to worry, I’ll bring everything. You
two can just relax, all you need to do is tell me how the kitchen
works.’

‘
Hmm. Big white cold box in corner is fridge, big white hot
box in other corner is oven. That’s it.’

This
time he laughed. ‘I think I can manage that. Look, the rain’s
lessening up, do you want to get his Lordship back before it starts
again?’

Reluctantly I peeled myself off the heated seat, which left
me with clammy buttocks. It also left Ben with a damp
double-imprint where I’d been sitting. ‘Sorry. I told you I was
wet.’

‘
I
shall treasure it. Six o’clock tomorrow then, yeah?’

‘
I
suppose. If you insist.’

‘
I’m overwhelmed by your gratitude.’ But he
was smiling – no,
grinning
. A proper grin which
creased his eyes and relaxed his face and made me swallow
hard.

‘
Six
o’clock. Yes, then.’ And I watched as he dropped the clutch and
expertly manoeuvred the car down the twisty lane back towards the
main road. I was going to address a pithy remark to Harry but he’d
fallen asleep inside his condensation-filled buggy, like a
boil-in-the-bag human. ‘Great. Leave me alone with my thoughts, why
don’t you?’ I spoke to him anyway. ‘Just when the last thing I want
is time to stand around thinking, you go to sleep. Typical
man.’

The
rain lifted and the sun began slipping through starling-coloured
clouds like a spotlight. I started pushing for home. I tried to
distract myself with thoughts of the work I had to do: there were
two wristbands in silver that I had to pack up for dispatch, a
buckle waiting to be built. But this time I failed to lose myself
in detail; all I could think of was Ben’s eyes, the feel of him
when I’d touched his arm. That tattoo over his bicep. The careless
way he’d drag his hair back out of his face while he talked, as if
he was unaware that haircuts existed. It was disturbing.

What
did I think of him? All right, I admired those long legs, that
finely-tuned body. I liked the way his fingers kinked in at the
knuckle. His face was pleasant to look at and there was something
about the way he moved that made something inside me feel as though
I was answering a long-ago call. He didn’t frighten me. His slight
build wasn’t overpowering or threatening, he’d never done anything
or said anything which in any way panicked me.

And
yet. The way my skin gravitated towards his – that was just
biological imperative. Just my hormones trying to force me into
something unwanted by both Ben and me. Nothing that was going to
make me break the promises I’d made to myself. He was a friend.
That was all.

When
I got back to the barn, Harry was still asleep. Jason was packing
his car for the London trip so I went through to the office and on
to the computer. Back to the Willow Down site.

What
had intrigued me was Ben’s hint that he’d done something to throw
the band into disarray. Something that had had repercussions for
their tour of the States. I went into the part of the website
dedicated to write-ups of each gig they’d played and called up the
review.

‘
Striding onstage like they were aware of
their following, Zafe Rafale and Baz Davies came on burning,
tearing straight into their biggest hit “Once It was You”. The rest
of the band joined them and they played all the usual hits plus
most of the stuff on the new album
Rent-A-Tee
. The only duff note
played all evening was in the final number, “About a Girl”. It
looked as though inadequate rehearsals told here when Baz Davies
set off into another number altogether, getting half way through to
the evident puzzlement of the rest of the band before switching
lyrics.’

Only that fragment about a misplayed song
gave any hint that anything untoward had happened that night. Then,
being a suspicious type, I checked out the internet scuttlebut on
the topic. There were whole forums devoted to why Baz Davies quit
Willow Down. Consensus seemed to be that Ben had had some kind of
breakdown. There were wild stories on the net regarding his drug
habit, his rumoured stays in just about any rehab clinic you could
name, his bizarre behaviour. He’d had an affair with Zafe – no,
he’d run off with Zafe’s girlfriend. No, Zafe had run off
with
his
girlfriend. When it got to the stage that I was reading how
Baz had been contacted by aliens and had left music to dedicate his
life to Venusian peace-bringers I gave up.

I
closed down the computer. Harry was stirring, curling and uncurling
his hands around his blanket, and out in the yard I could hear
Jason swearing at his car for not being large enough to accommodate
one of his canvasses.