Secrets (32 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

All this is actually worse for her than it is for me.

She's blustering over her words like a novice surfer floundering in the spume.

I could make it easier for her; I could let her know that I'd already got the vibe that if she was hesitant at first, latterly she's been reluctant. I will be telling her that it's no big deal, I'll tell her I'm cool and that of course we can continue as friends – but I'll just let her stumble through her reasons a little longer because she's cute; all wide-eyed and lip-chewing and touching my arm every so often. And anyway, it's only half nine (not that she didn't spend the first hour and a half fixating on chit-chat) and I've still got a pint in front of me.

What makes it all right – bizarrely – is knowing that it's because of another bloke. It makes it easier on the old ego, really. If she was single, and simply not that into me, that might have dented my pride a bit, knocked the old confidence, mangled the machismo. So it's weird but though some lucky sod gets to have her and of course I wish it were me – it's OK, I'm cool. I like it that she's a one-man woman. I wouldn't want to be her bit on the side when the other guy's abroad. But she's not like that. Which is why I like her.

Bless her – now she's rattling off cliché after cliché:

It's not you, it's me.

I really hope we can be friends.

      You're a great guy – it's just that… you know –
                  I really hope I haven't led you on.

Don't you worry, Tess, I'm not going to go home and slash my wrists; I'm not even going to go home and wallow in Radiohead. I certainly won't be avoiding you when you go for your strolls along the pier. I'll still say, hey, fancy a coffee. I'll still want to grab a bite at Virgo's or Camwell's. I may even come on up to the house if I haven't seen you for a while. But for now, I'm going to stay right here with you, sitting on the fancy decked terrace of the pub looking out to sea, drinking beer and, by the time you've finished your soliloquy I'll most probably have finished my pint and I'll suggest another round and we can just sit here and shoot the shit as friends do. Just as soon as you've finished – and surely you can't have that much more to wring your pretty hands about.

See? That was a cool evening in the end, wasn't it? You relaxed and we had a laugh. You finally stopped crinkling your eyebrows and picking your nails – a couple more glasses of wine helped, as did watching those pissheads streaking into the sea. And you were positively effervescent when you were telling me about Lisa setting up this thing for you at her place next week. I liked talking about myself too – I liked it that you seemed genuinely interested. I liked your questions. It was fun swapping dog stories. How the fuck did you get me telling you that if I have kids I like the names Ben and Ali?

But you still won't tell me why you won't go on the beach. Never mind – it's my mission now, with or without the reason behind it. I'll get you paddling before long. Not least because the weather's turned for the better, that's for sure.

Best of all, though, was just now – when we gave each other a peck on the cheek goodnight and you gave me a second hug and I said, I guess a shag is out of the question and you laughed and laughed and laughed.

Chapter Twenty-nine

‘Bloody wish I could come – it sounds like fun.’

‘Well, no doubt you still have drawers full of my creams from when I collared you into buying them first time round. But I too wish you could come, Tamsin – couldn't you come and visit anyway? Soon?’

‘Actually, I only have a couple of pots left – they made good Christmas presents last year. And yes, I'll come up – when I fancy an ice cream.’

‘It's not just ice cream we do well here.’

‘
We? We
? Dear God, woman, you're starting to sound like a tourist guide.’

‘If – scrap that –
when
you come, you'll see what I mean and you'll see for yourself what all this means to me now.’

‘Christ alive, you'll be dropping the “r” from “bath” and “laugh” and “plaster” next.’

‘And I'd love you to meet Joe.’

‘You'd trust me not to burst into song? You know how I like a bit of “Bridge over Troubled Water”.’

‘I had you down as more of a Red Hot Chili Peppers girl.’

‘I am – but you can't go wrong with a little Simon and Garfunkel every now and then.’

‘It's
Gar. Gar
funkel. You always put the stress on
funkel
.’

‘Stop being such a purist – have you really phoned me to nitpick my rock ‘n’ roll pronunciation? Stop laughing! I'm pissed off! I could be – I don't know – washing the cat, instead of talking to you. I'm serious!’

‘I miss you, Tamsin – I really do. I wish you were coming tonight. You'd like Lisa. She's daft.’

‘I like Lisa because you like her enough to turn to when I'm not around.’

‘Lisa said just what you said about the Seb thing.’

‘And did she say, “see – told you it would be fine,”’ after the event, just as I would?’

‘Of course she did.’

‘Knowing there's a Lisa makes me feel better about you being up there in Madsville-on-Sea without me. You're not on your own any more, are you – with or without Joe.’

‘You're right. I didn't think of it that way – I do have my own, small burgeoning community now. With Lisa as kingpin.’

‘And what does she have to say about Joe? Tess? You still there?’

‘Yes – still here. I was just thinking. She's like you, Tamsin. She revels in all the details, romantic or saucy. She's just like you – I reveal things, in all seriousness, and it sets her off into fits of giggles.’

‘But does she also tell you to tread carefully?’

‘Yes.’

‘And what about Madame Mysterious and BlackBerry-
sur-Lit
? Do Lisa and I speak as one on that front?’

‘Yes.’

‘And? So? Did you ask Joe? To clarify – to assure you?’

‘It wasn't like that.’

‘What do you mean? You did ask? He did tell?’

‘The time we spent together was so – I don't know how best to describe it. It was so all-encompassing, it was so sustaining. It's clichéd to say it but it felt so real. So, I feel pretty good that I'm to him as he is to me. There's a connection between us, Tamsin. I don't need to ask –
directly
.

Now you're the one who's gone quiet.’

‘Two things, really, Tess. Firstly, I love the sound of Joe but you have to know that as your best friend I do not want you to be hurt. And my experience says that if you jump into love head first, you risk a fast fall and injury. Secondly, if it's so real with Joe, where's the reciprocal exchange of information? Why haven't you been clearer with him about what happened? Why haven't you confided in him? Confessed? Can you expect him to give himself to you if you're keeping stuff from him? Do you know the whole Joe if you're not showing him the complete Tess?’

‘Tamsin.’

‘I don't mean to burst your bubble, babe. Truly I don't. I want it to work out for you – even if it's on the other side of the world or wherever Madsville-on-Sea is. If your feelings run as deep for him as you feel that they do, then go for it, Tess. Show him all of you. Is that not the greatest gift we can bestow on those we love – our totality? See what he thinks. If he's the man you feel that he is, you'll be so pleased you did. If you're the girl of his dreams, he'll take all you give him and treasure it. It's the fundamental difference between a pretty-enough sketch and the beautiful, finished, whole picture.’

‘'Kay.’

‘Don't go sulky.’

‘I'm not.’

‘You know I'm right.’

‘I know. You are.’

‘But here endeth my sermon – and it just leaves me to say I
wish
I could be with you tonight – get trolleyed on Thunderbird or Special Brew or whatever's the drink
du jour
up there.’

‘You snob!’

‘I'm teasing.’

‘I know.’

‘But I wish I was coming.’

‘Me too.’

‘And I do want to meet Joe.’

‘You will.’

‘I'll look at my diary.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise. Oh, by the way, I'm sending you twenty-five quids’ worth of M&S vouchers – I won them in a raffle at work. Do they have M&S Up North?’

Tess replaced the phone and looked at Em.

‘Your Auntie Tamsin is one in a million, you know.’ And as she licked her thumb to wipe away some smear or other off her daughter's chin, Tess suddenly rued the fact that the distance between them meant that Em would probably not recognize her godmother when she finally made the trip to Saltburn.

As she pushed the buggy and matched her pace to Wolf's improving limp, Tess thought, not for the first time, if only I hadn't been so hasty in cutting up my SIM card – there were photos on it I could have shown Em of her Auntie Tamsin.

She laughed.

There had also been a fair few of herself and Tamsin that were certainly
not
for Em's eyes.

‘Your Auntie Tamsin – when are we going to entice her up here?’

She bought mince from the butchers on Dundas Street (they added a little bag of tripe for Wolf), and bread from the bakery opposite the station clock tower (Em was given a taster of bun). She crossed over to the small, perfectly stocked deli and bought herself a box of amaretti biscuits and it was while she was wedging the box into the folded hood of the buggy that she became aware of frantic waving outside the shop window. It was Laura – lovely Laura from Redcar who worked at Swallows. It struck Tess that she had last seen her a month ago, when no one dreamed of going out without a coat on.

Their greeting was warm – but it had to wait until after Laura had squatted down to make much of Em.

‘How are you? I'd begun to think that you'd buggered off back South.’

Tess laughed. ‘Not a chance.’

‘What happened to Wolf?’

Tess relayed the saga.

‘I wonder how Mary will react. If she's up and sparky, it'll upset her – if she's in one of her fogs and she doesn't recognize him, well, that'll upset me.’

‘How is she?’ Tess was tentative. Her conscience ricocheting between her loyalty to Joe, her own curiosity and a genuine concern for the elderly lady.

‘It's been a shame you haven't popped in,’ Laura said but she said it so brightly that Tess felt far more guilty than had it been said accusatorily.

‘Wolf,’ she shrugged, ‘Em. Time – it's just flown.’

‘Well, don't be a stranger.’

‘I won't – I'll call in soon.’

‘She scarpered a couple of times – headed off in your direction, but they caught up with her before she'd made it to the bandstand. I've been off work – had the flu.’

‘How are you now?’

‘Well, I'm happy because I lost a few pounds – but I still feel a bit
flat
.’

Tess regarded her. ‘Laura – are you around this evening? Would you like to come to this – thing – my friend Lisa is doing at her place?’

Laura looked at Tess. ‘What's a
thing
?’ She knew whatever the thing was, she'd go. Devil Worship. Silent Meditation. ‘Is it an Ann Summers party?’

‘Nothing as exciting as that – it's just some stuff of mine.’

‘Stuff? What kind of stuff?’ Laura couldn't imagine – she certainly didn't think Tess had worldly goods for sale.

‘Well – some organic skincare I used to produce and sell.

Down South. Before I came up here.’

‘Smellies? Ace!’

‘And I'll be giving mini pedicures, and hand massages, and neck rubs, and if there's time, eyebrow shaping.’

Laura was scanning Tess's face as if she didn't quite understand. She was a plain girl, with overly plucked brows and a figure that could benefit from less snacking, but her eyes always shone kindness and when she smiled a natural femininity emanated.

‘I used to be a beauty therapist,’ Tess explained, ‘in a former life.’

She's nervous. She's looking at herself, giving herself a sharp word for being such a silly mare. She doesn't doubt her ability to shape brows and neaten nails and undo knots in the neck – though the last time she did any of those was in London a lifetime ago. She isn't worried about her products, which Lisa had taken from the boot of her car to display in her home for this evening's event. What disconcerts Tess is that she'll be out in the open, the centre of attention – a place from which she's always, always darted to the safety of the periphery. The thing is, she says to herself, the thing is all the women tonight will be going to have a great time and they'll be looking to me to assist this.

Can I do it?

Was I ever much good?

My business failed, after all. The Next Jo Malone I certainly was not.

‘Tess?’ It's Lisa's husband, downstairs. ‘You ready, pet?’

‘Just coming.’ She gives Em a quick shrug, which belies the emotion in her eyes – part excitement, part terror. She looks at her daughter, all snuggly in her night-time babygro. But Tess had to cut the feet off all of them last week, because Em's legs have grown and though Tess justified, why buy new when you can mend and make do? It still pained her to resort to scissors. And now she thinks to herself that tonight has a proper purpose – if she makes a little money, she can treat Em to something nice and new.

‘Coming,’ she calls down again and she lifts Em onto her hip, slings the bag of baby essentials over her shoulder, and makes her way downstairs.

Her first thought is, Christ, with this decibel level, Em will never settle. Her second thought is, pour me a glass of wine – this looks fun. Her third thought is, they don't look half bad – and this she directs at the assembled women as well as her wares. The jars and tubs and tubes are well displayed, laid out over a black cloth on a table to the side of the room. They look rather good – the matt white containers, with deep pink glossy print that, though costly at the time, even now Tess is pleased she insisted on.