Ten Years On (22 page)

‘They’ve marked the sofa.’ She gestures to red felt-tip pen. She still won’t meet my eye. ‘God, I’m exhausted.’

‘Why don’t we leave it now, tidy up later?’ I suggest. ‘I thought we could take them to the indoor play place …’

‘Not that they deserve it.’

‘Yes, but at least they can burn off some energy while we sit and eat cake.’

‘I could murder a piece of cake. I’ll get changed.’ Pippa is dressed in a grey tracksuit and white T-shirt stained with what looks like strawberry jam. ‘Then we need to talk,’ she says nervously, leaving the room.

‘How was London?’ Pippa asks, as the twins cavort around the play centre, jumping on bouncy castles and careering down snakes-and-ladders slides with an army of other mad screaming children.

‘Mummy! Auntie Becca!’ Oscar waves to us as he’s about to plunge into a pool of plastic balls.

I take a sip of tea; burn the roof of my mouth. ‘Great.’ I tell Pippa about Jamie, Sylvie, Kitty, and Glitz’s house, all the time thinking, when are we going to say sorry?

‘Pippa,’ I begin, ‘about the other week …’

‘Mummy!’ Theo flies down the slide, lands in a heap at the bottom, before picking himself up and starting all over again.

Her face reddens. ‘I should go first. I said things I regret and I was wrong to talk to Mum about you behind your back. I’m sorry.’

I can see how much this admission has cost her; her sense of blame makes me feel more generous than I’d expected. ‘You were right,’ I acknowledge. ‘I do need to make plans. I know I can’t stay at home forever. I don’t want to, and I’m sure Mum and Dad don’t want me to either.’

Pippa nods.

‘But it’s difficult to see the right way forward. It’s terrifying,’ I confess, wanting her to understand.

She stares ahead. ‘I am spoilt, and I’ve always been jealous of you.’

‘Jealous of me?’ I look at her, stunned.

‘Oh, Becca, you might think I have everything – the house, the flashy car, the rich husband – but the truth is Todd’s always away, and even when he’s at home he’s so irritable with the children. We haven’t had sex in months. Sorry, too much information?’ she asks, when she clocks my face.

‘It’s fine.’

‘That day, before I talked to Mum, I accused him of having an affair. Don’t tell her.’

I gasp. ‘Is he?’

‘I was in a foul mood because he’d just told me he had to go away on business again, and then when Mum said she couldn’t help with the twins on such a regular
basis, it was the last straw. I’m not excusing what I said,’ she’s quick to add.

‘Back to Todd,’ I insist.

‘I accused him of putting his work before his children and me. Then I asked if there was another woman. You should have seen his face, Becca, so shocked. I don’t think he is – there’s no evidence, no lipstick on his shirt. ‘“Everything I do, I do it for you, for our family,” he said. Blah blah blah.’

‘Not much good if you never get to see him.’

‘Exactly. He has a relationship with his BA gold card, not with me.’ She turns away, searches for Oscar and Theo.

‘They’re over there,’ I reassure her, pointing to the slide.

‘I don’t think he’s having an affair –I’m sure he’s not – but that doesn’t change the fact he’s always working and I’m alone. I don’t have a close network of friends, not like you. Even when we were kids, you were the popular one. I was always playing tennis so had no social life. Not that I’m complaining, I loved it, but …’ She flicks a hand through her hair. ‘If I didn’t have my work at the tennis club, I’d go mad. They want me to do more coaching. Todd says we shouldn’t have had children if I wasn’t prepared to look after them.’

‘That’s ridiculous and outdated.’

She waves at Oscar, who’s shouting at her through the netting. ‘But you were right. What with Todd’s family being in America, I do depend on Mum too much and she’s right to put her foot down now. When your little one comes along, she’ll need to be there for you too. And I am sorry about Olly.’ She shrugs helplessly. ‘I have no excuse. What you’re going through, I wouldn’t inflict it on my worst enemy … but you’re coping so well. You’ve always had strength, Becca. I’ve always been needy and craved approval or praise. I used to get that from Todd. But I’m on my own, Becca. I’m lonely, really lonely. Not in the same way that you are, but sometimes …’ She digs into her handbag to find a tissue.

I wasn’t expecting this.

‘I’ve found someone to look after the twins part-time. She’s called May. She’s gentle, maybe too much so, because you know what Oscar’s like!’

I confide what happened with the fruit kebabs. Pippa finds this funny, and for the first time in years we’re laughing together.

‘I’m quite excited about her starting next week, and Todd’s just going to have to get on with it. You’re right. Why shouldn’t I work?’

‘Me caveman, you woman!’ I beat my chest and we
both laugh again. ‘Pippa,’ I have to ask, ‘do you still love Todd?’

She nods. ‘But if our marriage is going to survive, something has got to change. You’ve made me see that.’

‘Look, Mummy!’ Oscar says, as he’s about to tackle the climbing frame.

‘They adore you,’ I say.

‘Good mother, bad sister.’

‘I haven’t exactly excelled in that area either. I had no idea, until moving home, how hard it is to raise twins. I haven’t given you any credit or support these past three years. Olly and I didn’t visit you much after the birth, and I regret that so much now. I didn’t really think about how wonderful but
scary
it must have been to have two of these at once,’ I gesture to my ever-growing bump. ‘Until these past few months, I barely knew Oscar and Theo. You’re a great mum, Pippa.’

‘Despite the felt-tip on the sofa.’

‘Just cover it up with a cushion,’ I suggest. I reach out, take her hand. ‘I’m enjoying getting to know them. Talk to Todd. Don’t put it off. Tell him how you feel. Don’t let secrets or bad communication come between you.’

She nods. ‘I will. I’ll talk to him.’

‘Perhaps it’s time we supported one another too, rather than competed?’

‘Please, I’d like that,’ she says.

32

I find Jim sitting outside the bakery, with Noodle curled up by his side. I knew he’d be here today, just knew it. He’s grown a beard and is wearing an old shabby coat. He smiles, as though he expected to see me too.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ I say.

‘Noodle and I have been out and about, haven’t we, boy? We had places to go, people to see.’

I crouch down. ‘It’s Olly’s birthday today.’

‘I know.’

‘He’s stopped talking to me. I need him now more than ever.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ I repeat, taken aback. ‘I miss his voice, him telling me funny things. I miss him so much.’ Tears well up in my eyes.

‘Olly can’t stay with you forever,’ he says softly.

‘But …’

‘At his funeral, you weren’t ready to say goodbye, were you?’

I shake my head.

‘Nor was he.’

‘I’m still not ready.’

I fear what Jim is going to say next. ‘You need to move on now, and so does Olly.’

I inhale deeply. ‘Can I sit with you, for just a minute?’

He nods. I stroke Noodle. ‘Thank you, Jim,’ I say.

‘Well, thank you too, for the sandwiches and coffee.’ He gestures to the food I brought with me. ‘I’m glad I came here. He always said you were a top girl.’

‘Goodbye.’ I kiss his cheek. ‘So long, Noodle.’

It’s the last wine tasting session. Joe holds up a wine menu in front of the class. I typed and printed it off earlier. ‘So, you want to impress your hot date.’

Scott and Monica sit at the back of the class. I’ll wager they’re holding hands under the table. There’s no doubt they’re in a relationship now. As for the rest of the class …

‘I’m too old for dates, let alone hot ones,’ Janet cackles.

‘I’ve never been on a date,’ Adam says, dressed in a maroon shirt and plum-coloured cardigan.

‘My husband doesn’t do dates,’ calls out Felicity, sitting next to her friend Diana.

Joe glances at Henry, with his hair sticking out in all directions, and reassesses. ‘OK, you’re not on a hot date, you’re out with friends, but you want it to be one humdinger of a night. This is your chance to engage with the sommelier, and if they’re good they will want to interact with you too. So, you see Chablis
premier cru
, Fourchaume, J. C. Bessin – what are you going to think?’

‘Chardonnay,’ calls Henry.

‘Good. And Chablis? Come on. Where is Chablis?’

‘Burgundy,’ says Scott.

‘North,’ adds Joe. ‘Could you order the Chablis with the smoked haddock?’

‘Yes,’ they shout.

‘It’s buttery, high acidity,’ says Henry, reading from his notes.

‘Excellent. Can you all see that before the wine is even put in front of you, you’re beginning to taste it? Pinot Noir?’

‘A diva!’ Janet calls.

‘That’s right,’ says Joe. ‘Pinot Noir is without a doubt the diva of grapes because it’s temperamental, obstinate and needs constant attention and care. It can’t just grow anywhere …’

‘If the vine’s too cold it gets the flu,’ Adam says, ‘and if it’s too hot the grape makes jam,’ he concludes.

‘I don’t think I need to teach you any more,’ Joe concludes, scrunching the menu up and throwing it in the bin.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Joe asks again, helping me pick up the pieces of glass on the floor. This is the second one I’ve dropped tonight. He urges me to sit down. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Olly’s birthday.’

Back at his flat, when Joe is in the kitchen making us a cup of tea, I think back to this time last year. Olly and I had discussed booking ourselves into a fancy hotel in London. We’d looked at the website and dreamed of room service in bed, saying that ten years earlier we’d never have thought about food before sex. Then we talked about the cost and decided to keep on putting any savings into our house account.

‘I’m only thirty-one,’ Olly had said. ‘It’s no big deal. When I’m thirty-five we can throw a big party or, if we’ve saved up enough, we’ll go to America.’ We had always wanted to go on a six-week road trip to the States. We loved the idea of going to Mexico. Why didn’t we
just go? Blow our cash and just do it. Get on with life, instead of saving up for it?

Joe’s telephone rings. ‘Sorry, Peta. I was going to call you. It’s been a long day,’ I hear him saying.

I get up to stretch, stubbing my foot against the coffee table. ‘Fuck! Ouch …’ I hop from one foot to the other.

‘It’s Becca. She’s here.’

There’s a pause.

‘Darling, you have nothing to worry about,’ he says in that quiet controlled tone. ‘It’s Olly’s birthday and understandably she’s feeling low.’

Joe hands me my mug of tea. ‘I hope I haven’t made things awkward,’ I say. I wonder if we’re spending too much time together.

‘It’s fine. I explained,’ he says, clearly wanting to draw a line under that conversation.

‘I don’t want Peta to think—’

‘Becca, Olly was my friend too,’ he says. ‘I’d like to be with you tonight. Remember him with you.’

‘“Don’t feel sorrow that he’s gone, but celebrate his life.” That was the message in most of the cards and letters people sent,’ I say, curled up on one end of the
sofa. ‘It’s fine to say that about somebody who’s old, but not Olly. Of course I feel sorrow.’

He asks me about my time in London. Did I need to get away because Olly’s birthday was approaching? ‘My mother’s first anniversary was very difficult,’ Joe says. ‘I wouldn’t have got through it without Uncle Tom.’

I find myself telling him about my row with Pippa and Mum. Joe doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even express shock. I used to think he was bored or didn’t care, but I see things differently now. He’s listening, and he does feel things, deeply.

I find myself telling him about Olly’s job too. Everything tumbles out of my mouth. When Joe says Olly should have told me, I stop him by saying, ‘So what? He resigned! It’s just a job.’ The truth is, Olly was right. That’s how I feel now, since I’ve been injected with a whole new sense of perspective, but before this happened I would have felt differently. It’s such a rat race in London, everyone wanting more, including me. Bigger house, faster car, more money, the latest gadget. More, more, more. ‘If only we’d talked, we’d have worked it out,’ I say. ‘We were a team. That’s the thing, Joe. I’m not part of a team any more.’ I confide that I don’t hear Olly’s voice anymore. ‘I know he’s telling me to move on. I just wish I knew how.’

‘When Mum died, I was lost. If it hadn’t been for Uncle Tom I’d have probably carried on at Bristol and become a doctor … no doubt a very bad one,’ he adds. ‘The best piece of advice Uncle Tom gave me was that in order to be happy, you have to find yourself.’

‘Find yourself?’

Joe detects my cynicism. ‘I told him he made it sound as easy as heading off to the lost-property office, picking yourself up and taking yourself home, but what he meant was, don’t live your life according to what others expect or want. Find something that makes
you
happy.’

I twist my wedding ring round and round.

‘What do you want, Rebecca?’

I stare up to the ceiling. ‘That’s the trouble. I don’t know any more.’

I watch Joe light a candle and place it on the glass coffee table. ‘I do it every year, on Mum’s birthday. Here, take one.’ He hands me a tea light with a box of matches. I light the small white candle and place it next to Joe’s.

‘I think about heaven,’ I reflect. ‘Whether it’s real. Do you?’

‘Sometimes. More so since Mum died,’ he admits. ‘I hope she’s surrounded by flowers. Her favourite place was Kew Gardens.’

I readjust my position on the sofa. ‘Olly and me, we used to play this game. If you weren’t you, who would you like to be? After Chopin or Bob Dylan, he said Gauguin.’

Joe laughs quietly. ‘I wonder why.’

‘Maybe Olly is lying on a beach with exotic women.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Where do you think he is then?’

He shrugs. ‘Tahiti’s all very well – I wouldn’t mind going there myself – but my guess is …’ Joe stops, looks at me.

‘What?’

‘He’s with you.’