Stop the Clock (39 page)

And as for Tina herself . . . she would like to think that she’d softened, but the truth was she probably looked
even sharper and more cantankerous than before. It was hard to look gentle and benign after three months of broken nights.

‘Lucy’s the one with the hair,’ she said, ‘and the key thing to bear in mind, so that you don’t put your foot in it, is that they’ve both recently broken up with their husbands.’

‘Yeah, I remember that much. Not good news.’

‘No, I know, it’s dreadful, isn’t it? Still, at least we don’t need to worry about whether it’s catching,’ Tina said.

‘True, but I hope that doesn’t mean that I’m in for a whole weekend of you lot moaning on at me about how crap men are.’

‘They won’t, I promise you. Lucy seems quite happy now she’s got the house and a job and a young buck to keep her satisfied, and Natalie’s decided she’s probably a lesbian, although she isn’t out or anything, so watch what you say. Anyway, we do have other topics of conversation. Besides men, I mean.’

‘I know you do, and I bet I can tell you exactly what they are. Babies, children, work, telly, other women you know, celebrities and shopping. Am I right or am I right?’

‘Well, you know, and art, literature, philosophy and politics, in so far as they’re connected to any of the other things you already mentioned,’ she said.

He laughed, and she thought: This is going to be OK. Maybe even better than OK.

Traffic lights. While they were stopped . . . why not?

She reached across experimentally and rested one hand on his knee.

‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said.

He smiled back at her. God, those blue eyes! He really was rather gorgeous. How come she hadn’t realized that ages ago?

‘There’s no one I’d rather be with,’ he told her.

Someone beeped her, and Dan said, ‘Er, Tina . . . I think the lights have changed.’

A moment later both her hands were back on the steering wheel, and they were moving forward again.

‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I’m knackered, and I’m really tempted to ask you to drive sooner rather than later.’

‘Well,’ Dan said, ‘temptation’s only any good if you give in to it.’

It wasn’t what he said so much as the tone of his voice that persuaded her – the warmth of it, suggestive of untapped reservoirs of kindness.

And in that moment she finally allowed herself to fall for him, though there was no sense of plunging down towards a hard landing; it was more like easing into the comfort of a deep hot bath, and letting go of all the troubles of the day.

She flashed him another quick smile and fixed her attention on the road.

In the service station car park she turned to him and said, ‘OK, all yours, but this doesn’t mean I’ve turned into the kind of woman who lets a man do all the driving.’

‘Of course not,’ he said, and then she leaned across to kiss him.

Natalie hadn’t been at all sure about the idea of setting off on the Thursday evening, straight from work, but Lucy had been adamant; she had no intention of spending Good Friday stuck on the motorway. Natalie had volunteered to drive at least some of the way, but again, Lucy wouldn’t hear of it. Perhaps she wanted to prove that she could handle the journey just as well as Adam had once done – or maybe she just didn’t fancy putting herself in the hands of a notoriously nervy driver. Natalie was generally feeling much bolder about tackling practical challenges – she’d told her parents that she and Richard were separating because she was gay, the M4 was quite unintimidating in comparison – but she would have to find some other way of putting her newfound faith in herself to the test.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time they reached Port Maus. Matilda, Lottie and Clemmie were all soundly asleep in the back, and had been for hours. Natalie was horribly sleepy too, but felt obliged to stay awake to help with directions, and chat to Lucy and generally be companionable.

The village was pitch dark; there were a few street-lamps along the three main roads, but the arterial lanes were unlit, and the inhabitants of the low thatched cottages were dead to the world behind their closed shutters. But it was a starry, moon-bright night, and as the road rose and fell it was occasionally possible to catch a glimpse of the black sea, shining and shifting under the still, dark sky.

‘I hope Tina’s there this time,’ Lucy said. ‘Remember when I turned up with Adam and Lottie for the
millennium house party, and you two were still down the pub?’

‘Ah. Yes, I do. You know what that was all about. Tina had just told me she’d got together with the Grandee. Her top-secret lover. I think he might have been some kind of politician.’

‘Yuck. What possessed her to do that? Thank goodness that bit the dust and she ended up with Dan.’

‘But I don’t think she is with Dan, is she? She was very emphatic that they were just friends.’

‘Oh, she’s definitely smitten, even if she hasn’t quite admitted it to herself yet. Bet you anything you like she gets together with him while we’re in Cornwall. If she hasn’t already.’

‘She did sound very pleased that he was coming,’ Natalie said.

Lucy shot her a sidelong look. ‘It’ll happen for you, Natalie, I’m sure of it,’ she said. ‘There’s someone out there for you – someone who has no idea yet that you’re out there for her, and that you’re on your way.’

Natalie shrugged. ‘Some of us just don’t get lucky. Look at your sister.’

‘Yes, but she’s happy,’ Lucy said. ‘Right now she’s about the happiest she’s ever been. You can’t knock that. She’s very impressed with you, you know.’

‘With me?’

‘Uh-huh. Says you’re really good at your job. She’s amazed that, you know, you can be going through all this complicated stuff in your home life, and you just never let it show, you’re always calm, always friendly. She thinks that even though you seem a
gentle sort, deep down you must be as tough as old boots.’

‘Well, that doesn’t sound terribly complimentary.’

‘I think it is, though. She told me she was really grateful you never mention Adam – she does know you know about that, by the way. And she was touched that you trusted her enough to tell her what was going on with Richard.’

‘It’s nice to have someone at work to talk to about it,’ Natalie said.

She and Richard were still living together, more or less amicably, though not for much longer. Richard had found a flat to rent in a Georgian square in Kennington, and would be moving out soon; she hadn’t been quite so organized about finding somewhere, but had a few places in Lucy’s neck of the woods to look at. Their house had gone on the market, and they’d had several viewings, but no offers yet. She thought it would be a relief to both of them to see the back of it; it had never felt quite like home.

‘I told my parents why Richard and I are splitting up,’ she said.

‘How’d it go?’

‘I was expecting a scene. And it was a bit bumpy, but it wasn’t at all how I’d expected it. Dad went very quiet, and Mum wanted to know if Richard had been beating me up – she couldn’t believe that I thought what I’d told her was enough of a reason for us to split. Then she wondered if I’d had some sort of breakdown and had I talked to my GP, and then she asked if we couldn’t just quietly get on with whatever we wanted to get up to,
and still stay married. After that she thought it over for a bit, and she talked about it to my brother, and then she said that all she and Dad really cared about was my happiness and Matilda’s, and I could count on their full support.’

‘Phew! Good for Pat. Are you relieved?’ Lucy asked.

‘I’m impressed with them, actually,’ Natalie said. ‘That probably sounds horribly patronizing. I expected moral outrage. But I think they only get like that about abstract things, and it’s just a way of letting off steam – it’s the great British hobby, isn’t it, moaning about stuff, complaining that the country’s going to the dogs? When it comes down to it, they’re very pragmatic.’

‘What about your brother?’

‘He rang up from New Zealand and said better late than never, and he’d always thought there was something not quite right with me and Richard and he was glad that we’d finally figured out what it was.’

They reached the house. The gates were open, and a light glowed in one of the lower windows. Lucy pulled on to the driveway and parked behind Tina’s hatchback.

‘It really does look like a school,’ she commented.

And it was true, the building was a little forbidding, but the effect was softened by the setting. As Natalie walked towards the door she noticed the hush and the coastal freshness of the air. She could just make out the red glow of the tulips blooming in the border in front of the façade.

Tina opened up before she even got to the front step. She was in her pyjamas and dressing-gown, but looked surprisingly fresh and wide awake.

‘
You made it!’ she cried. ‘I’m so pleased to see you. Come on in, you must be exhausted.’

They embraced, and Natalie stepped into the hallway. Earlier that evening she wouldn’t have been able to recall it, and yet it immediately seemed familiar, and she knew it hadn’t changed a bit: the black-and-white chequerboard floor, the wide staircase with the red runner, the faded watercolours, the umbrella holder, the shelving unit for flip-flops and welly boots, the mahogany coat-stand with Tina’s padded jacket hanging off it – all exactly the same. The air had a static, closeted, anticipatory quality, as if the house had been waiting for them.

‘I’ve tried to air it,’ Tina said, ‘but I’m afraid the last guests left a week ago, and it’s still a bit stuffy.’

Lucy came in behind them. ‘You know, at one point I never would have thought I’d say this,’ she said, ‘but it really is good to be back.’

They unloaded their luggage and put the children to bed. It transpired that Tina and William were in the master bedroom in the tower, and Dan was in the little single room next to it; or perhaps Dan was in the master bedroom, and William was in the single. Tina wasn’t explicit – she merely gestured at the archway that led that way as they passed it, and said, ‘The three of us are in there.’ She looked so pleased as she said this that Natalie wondered if the getting-together Lucy had predicted had already happened. If not, it surely wasn’t far off.

At Natalie’s request, Tina had put her and Matilda in
the room she’d slept in when she’d come to stay for the millennium. It was at the back of the house and had bluebell wallpaper, on which was mounted a framed specimen of Tina’s cross stitch, a childhood project:
Bless this house.

Once Matilda was settled in her travel cot Natalie joined the others in the kitchen. There was an open bottle of wine on the table, and Tina said, ‘Would you like some? Lucy’s abstaining.’

Natalie glanced at Lucy in surprise, and Lucy said, ‘Makes a change, doesn’t it? I kind of decided I’d had enough of drinking.’

‘Next thing we know, you’ll be running the marathon,’ Tina said.

‘Actually, I have started taking tennis lessons. I
thought it might be an idea to get fit,’ Lucy said.

Natalie drank half a glass of wine and then felt so sleepy there was nothing for it but to say goodnight – she’d never known where the other two got their stamina from. She went up to the bluebell room and got into her nightie and leaned over Matilda’s travel cot and listened to her oblivious calm breathing. As her eyes adjusted to the dark she could make out Matilda’s plump cheeks and still, serene expression.

The curtains were stirring slightly in the breeze, and she realized that Tina had left the sash window slightly open. She pulled it right up and leaned out and breathed in deep lungfuls of clean air. The wash of the sea on the beach was clear and close, and she could hear Lucy laughing downstairs.

Then she shut the window and fell into bed and into
a deep sleep. Sometime before dawn, she dreamed that she and Adele were alone in the house, which was suddenly not the Old Schoolhouse any more, but had become her own home, though it was completely bare and empty.

The building was almost immediately overrun by marauders, who pressed on the windows, climbed on to the roof, and invaded from all sides. She and Adele fled to the beach, ran down to a little jetty she’d never noticed before, boarded a ship; but its sails were torn and marked and couldn’t catch the wind, and their persecutors were now pirates, running amok, sinking them.

As the sea closed over their heads and they drifted down into the gloom she saw the fear in Adele’s eyes and knew they were about to die . . . but Adele pressed her lips to Natalie’s and breathed air into her, and then she couldn’t see Adele any more, she was rising, rushing upwards, and the water was gleaming . . .

She surfaced to the sound of Matilda chortling and gurgling, and saw that she hadn’t quite closed the curtains, and the room was flooded with light.

When Lucy came to she checked the clock and did a double take. It was eight thirty already! And the girls hadn’t come in to find her! Well, that was strange . . . and a little perturbing.

Over the last few months, Clemmie had got into the habit of coming into her bed for a cuddle first thing every morning. Lottie was too old for that, but given that they were in an unfamiliar place, Lucy would
have expected her to want her mother too – even though things had been rather strained between them of late.

Lottie had been keeping an exercise book in the old wooden box Tina had given her, and Lucy hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to read it. She had been appalled to discovered coded tales of shoplifting and bullying and underage sex, enough to make your blood run cold. She had confronted Lottie and been all set to storm up to the school and hand it over to the headmistress as evidence, until Lottie had persuaded her that it was, in fact, a story, and the names didn’t actually correspond directly to any of her classmates, and were merely figments of her imagination.

Lucy still had a bit of trouble believing this, but she had decided to give Lottie the benefit of the doubt. After all, the sex parts had been rather inexplicit, and she suspected that if Lottie’d had any more than the basic anatomical knowledge she’d obtained from her biology classes, she might have made use of it. And anyway, she wanted to believe her daughter was still innocent. To be able to make such things up did suggest that worldly corruption was on its way, but perhaps that was inevitable.