The Playdate (6 page)

Rubbing her stiff neck, Debs pulled herself up and headed out the bedroom door, picking up the last empty yellow box labeled “Allen” on the way. Allen’s sock drawer was now full of brown and gray pairs that still whiffed slightly of shoes, even though she’d washed them. This was one of the strangest things about living with a man for the first time. The foreign odors.

With the empty box held in front of her, her vision of the upper landing was blocked. “Aargh!” she shrieked as she felt the hard edge of something catch her knee, sending her toppling sideways into the wall with only time to put out her left hand. A vicious stabbing pain traveled up her arm, through her shoulder, and into her sore neck. “Oh,” she moaned. Too late, she remembered Allen’s final words before he left for his cricket club in Barnet this morning: “I’ve popped another box outside the bedroom for you, love.”

Limping down the stairs, she rubbed her sore knee with one hand and held her neck with the other. Her neck had been painful all night. That’s all she needed, a sore knee, too.

The doorbell rang again. Oh, for goodness’ sake!

“Coming,” Debs called, reaching the hall. The morning sun was bursting through the stained-glass roses in the front door, creating a prism of reds and pinks on the mirror of the old-fashioned hall stand Allen’s mother had left him. It was carved fussily with twirls and pleats, and offered racks for tall umbrellas and hooks for hats and shelves for God only knew what. Allen’s mother had left him lots of things that made Debs uncomfortable, including an ugly mini-grandfather clock that now hung opposite the hall stand, and the china cabinet in the sitting room, which overwhelmed the room with its brooding, mahogany doors and teetering stacks of 1930s lime Burleigh wedding service, much of which was
veined with brown cracks. It was as if the presence of his mother were still with them, reproaching him from every corner.

She took a deep breath.

“Hello?” she said through the glass.

“Uh—hello?” said a voice on the other side. It was a young woman. She sounded nervous.

“Can I help you?” Debs called again.

“Um . . . I’m just . . . it’s just . . . um . . .”

Debs looked through the spy hole. A woman with long, soft corkscrews of dark blond hair stood on the doorstep with a little girl who looked just like her, but with slightly blonder hair and darker eyes. She was holding a dish covered in tinfoil and a bottle.

Oh no.

Feeling sick, Debs opened the door.

“Yes?” she said faintly, poking her head round.

“Hi,” the woman said. She seemed unsure of herself. “I’m Callie, from across the road?”

“Oh. Yes?” said Debs.

“Sorry—are you OK?” the woman asked, looking at the way Debs was rubbing her knee.

“Oh, yes. I just had a little fall,” said Debs.

“I’ve probably come at a bad time?” said the woman.

Yes, thought Debs. You have.

“I just wanted to drop in this lasagne and some wine to say welcome to the street. I live across the road with Rae.”

Debs looked at them both, up and down. Could she just take the food and shut the door?

What would Allen expect her to do? She made herself think hard.

“Oh, how kind of you,” she forced herself to say. “Would you like to come in?”

The young woman’s face lit up. “Thanks, that would be lovely. We’ll just stay a minute.”

Debs motioned them in, smiling at the little girl. The woman, Callie, was very slim, she noticed, wearing jeans and an embroidered tunic and sandals. She looked like one of those effortlessly small-boned, thin girls Debs used to envy at school. Self-consciously, she pulled her long navy jumper over her generous hips. The little girl wore a summer dress on a tiny frame that revealed skin the color of bread dough.

“I’m Debs, by the way. Now,” said Debs, trying to stop her fingers from shaking as she took the gifts from Callie, “can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Well . . . thanks, if you’re sure?” said Callie, looking round at the piles of boxes.

“Absolutely,” Debs said, walking ahead of them. “Just give me a second to find everything. We’re still in a muddle. So have you been in the street long, Callie?” she asked, putting on the kettle and taking the teapot down from a shelf.

That usually worked. If she asked people questions, they usually talked about themselves and left her alone.

“About two and a half years,” said Callie, smiling.

“And are you from round here?”

Callie shook her head. “Not really. Not at all, actually. We were in Tufnell Park before. But we, er . . .” She glanced at Rae, then shrugged. “Well, there’s lots of lovely park space here. And what about you? Where have you come from?”

“Hackney, dear,” said Debs, putting tea bags in the pot. “Allen and I just got married, actually . . .” She looked at Rae and winked, seeing the little girl’s ears prick up. Debs could see her summing up this old lady and wondering what she’d look like in a white wedding dress. Her face looked revolted.

“Oh, congratulations!” Callie said. “That’s wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Debs said, taking the teapot over to the kettle. Oh no. Now the woman might ask about the wedding and that was something Debs wasn’t discussing with anyone.

“So, what about you, dear?” she said. “What do you do?”

Callie looked at her in surprise, and suddenly laughed out loud.

“Actually, it’s funny to be asked that. Years ago I was a sound designer—you know, doing the sound effects for TV adverts and films? And I’m actually going back on Monday for the first time in ages and . . .”

It was no good. Debs could feel the shaking in her fingers getting worse. Too late, she tried to place the teapot on the countertop, before feeling it slip between her fingers.

It hit the floor with a loud crack and splintered in ten different directions.

There was a stunned silence.

“I’m so sorry,” Debs said, looking at Rae’s shocked face. “Deary me, what a silly. What will Allen say? That was his mummy’s teapot.” She smiled, steadying herself on the table.

Callie looked mortified. “Sorry, it’s my fault for distracting you. Let me help you with that.”

“No!” Debs said, louder than she meant to. It was all she could do not to let the word come out as a shriek. “Please. Leave it. I do apologize, I’m just very tired from the move.”

“Oh, this is a bad time, I’m sorry. We’re just barging in on you,” the young woman said, her face flushing. “Why don’t we do this another time, when you’re more settled?”

“Of course,” said Debs. “Give me a couple of days, and when everything’s unpacked, come over and have a proper cup of tea.”

Except from now on she’d be on alert. She wouldn’t answer the door.

“Actually,” the young woman said, her voice with a slight quiver in it. “This might be a bit presumptuous, but I noticed all your books . . .”

“Oh, yes,” Debs replied warily. “I have far too many. Allen keeps asking me to clear some out—but I do like my books.”

“It’s just that it’s ages since I read a book. I need to get myself going again. I was wondering”—the young woman grimaced nervously—“if maybe I could have a look at them some time?”

Oh Lord. What was Debs getting herself into here?

“Mum . . .” A whine came from the hall. They both looked to see the little girl standing at the front door. “I want to go home.”

“Sorry,” said Callie. “We better go. Rae’s a little tired today.”

“Well, it was kind of you to bring the lasagne,” Debs said, relieved, following her through the hall. “Allen will enjoy that when he gets back from the cricket.”

At the front door, Debs stopped, and looked down at a box marked green for “loft.” She had a thought.

“Rae, is it? Do you like little puppets, dear?” she asked.

The little girl nodded.

“Would you like this?” Debs pulled out a revolting Christmas reindeer puppet with felt antlers and a scarlet pom-pom nose from a box. “This was Allen’s mummy’s. She made it.”

Rae took the puppet wordlessly from Debs. She fixed the puppet over her fingers with a smile, then looked up at Debs. Without any warning, she ran the puppet up Debs’s arm, and banged it hard on her nose.

“Rae!” Callie shouted.

Debs took a deep breath. “Oh, goodness!” she said.

“I am SO sorry,” Callie said. “Rae—that’s not like you! She’s usually very well behaved. Rae, say sorry.”

“No,” said Rae, looking at Debs sullenly.

“I don’t know what to say,” Callie said. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Oh, not at all, dear,” Debs said. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” said Callie, grabbing the puppet from Rae and putting it back in the box. “I will have a word with her when we get home. And thanks again.”

Debs waved good-bye and shut the door behind them.

“Oh,” she groaned, falling against the wall. Her thighs felt as if they had heavy weights strapped on them. She rubbed her sore knee and her sore neck, then her sore nose. The ugly puppet sat back in the box, its blue button eyes laughing at her.

Not to worry, though. She’d met little girls like that before and she knew how to deal with them.

*     *     *

By the time Allen arrived home from the cricket at 3
P.M
., she had recovered herself. Most of the green boxes were on the upper landing for him to put up in the loft, and she was sorting through more books.

“Love, have you got a minute,” he called from the front garden.

What now? she thought.

She came out and found him standing with the American woman from next door and a man with dark, wavy hair pushed back from his face. He was towering over Allen, with a jowly face and hooded, tired eyes. Her palms went clammy.

“Love, this is Suzy and Jez from next door,” said Allen. “They were just telling me that Thursday is pickup day for the rubbish and recycling.”

“We’ve met!” Suzy said, waving at Debs. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Fine, thank you,” Debs stuttered.

“Debs, this is Jez.” Suzy pointed at her husband. He was so
handsome Debs could hardly look at him. She had never looked men like him in the eye, in case for even one terrible second they thought she was flirting with them. The thought of their contempt was much more difficult to handle than their complete blindness to the fact that she was there.

“Hello,” he said. He was English, with a deep, clipped voice. He gave her a polite smile, hardly registering her at all.

“Listen, you must come round for a cup of tea,” said Suzy. “I’ll invite Callie, she lives across the road.”

“Oh yes,” said Debs. “The lady who does the sound effects?”

“Sound effects?” said Suzy. “Uh, no. I mean, she used to . . .”

“Oh—ah, I think she said she was going back to work next week?” said Debs. Why couldn’t all these people just leave her alone? Was she getting confused again?

The woman’s face changed a little. “I don’t think so.”

Debs stared.

“Come on, love—it was nice to meet you,” said Allen, beaming at Suzy.

The couple turned in to their own gate, the man nodding politely.

“OK, love?” said Allen.

Debs gave him a peck on the cheek. “Not bad. Had a little fall and hurt my knee, but it’s feeling better now.”

“Oh dear.” Allen patted her arm.

As he bent over to put his cricket bag down, she spotted a small piece of the Burleigh teapot lying on the floor outside the cellar door. Oh Lord. It must have fallen through a hole in the plastic bag that she had taken down to the cellar earlier to hide under the floorboards. She marched ahead quickly, before he stood up, and picked the china shard up, pocketing it in her trousers.

8
Suzy

“Hmm, well, at least they don’t look like they’ll be having loud parties . . .” Suzy said as they shut the door to their house.

“Who—the trolls?” Jez muttered.

“Jez!” she giggled, hitting his arm. “Don’t. The boys will hear you and repeat it.” Jez winked at Henry, who sniggered, delighted to be involved in the joke.

“She does seem a little spaced out, though. She thinks Callie works.”

“That was the best restaurant ever,” Henry shouted, running upstairs to play in his bedroom, holding a balloon the waitress had given him.

Suzy smiled. “Yeah, that was nice, thanks.”

“Good,” Jez said.

They caught each other’s eye for a moment and . . .

Jez’s phone shrieked.

“Hang on . . .” he said, answering it. He disappeared into the front sitting room, shutting the door.

God, she could throw that phone out the window. It burst into their lives every hour, every day, bringing news or messages that took him away from her. Who on earth was ringing him on a Saturday?

Suzy followed Peter and Otto into the kitchen, trying to ignore it, and put out their train set for them. Things had been brighter this morning and she didn’t want it spoilt. OK, so Jez hadn’t got back in from his night out with Don Berry till four this morning, and OK, he’d woken Otto up by slamming the door drunkenly and then left her to deal with the two-year-old’s cries. But ever since Jez had got up this morning he had been in a great mood. He’d even put his hand round her waist as they’d been talking to the couple next door in a way that strangely reminded her of that day at the lake in Colorado. The smell of him so close had put all her senses on alert. The warm scent of wine and garlic on his breath. The proprietary weight of his hand on her back.

No, it was exciting, if she thought about it. Something had changed since yesterday.

Maybe this had all been in her mind. Maybe there was nothing to worry about after all, she thought, replacing the sofa throw that Jez had used as a blanket during the night then dumped on the floor. Maybe he’d just been stressed after all these months of trying to land the Canadian contract, and talking it through with Don Berry last night had allowed him to blow off the pressure of it all?

Suzy walked over to the kitchen area and put on some fresh coffee to sober them both up after the bottle of wine they’d had at lunch. The calendar caught her eye. She counted the days since the beginning of June. Ten, eleven . . . She was probably starting to ovulate right now.