by Kate Field
BE KIND TO YOURSELF
VOUCHER TWELVE
I, Eve Roberts, have been kind to myself by having a night out with my wonderful family!
‘She’s getting sentimental in her old age,’ Gran said, but she smiled and scrubbed at her eyes. ‘Here, isn’t it time you handed over your present?’ She nudged Paddy. ‘Distract her so she doesn’t make any more soppy speeches.’
Paddy had been carrying a gift bag when he walked in, but I hadn’t liked to presume it was for me. He now retrieved it from under his chair and passed it round the table to me.
‘You want me to open it now?’ I asked, as everyone gazed expectantly at me. Paddy checked his watch.
‘It’s a birthday present. If you don’t open it in the next two hours, it will have to wait until next year. Just go carefully with it, okay? It’s fragile.’
I nodded, guessing that it was probably a bottle of perfume – it was an obvious present, wasn’t it, for a female acquaintance? And what were we, other than acquaintances? He’d treated me no differently than Tina or Mum tonight, and apart from that one searing glance at my dress, had spent more time looking at Caitlyn than me. His gift would reflect the insignificance of our relationship, wouldn’t it?
There was a box inside the gift bag, and I drew it out, lay it horizontally on the table, and lifted the lid. There was a bottle inside, but not the perfume bottle I’d anticipated. It was approximately twelve centimetres tall, with a round body and cylindrical neck, made of marbled green glass. I looked at Paddy. He smiled at me, because he knew, he must have known, what this present would mean to me.
Carefully, I removed the bottle from the protective foam it lay in and held it up. The light from the candles brought out the iridescence of the glass as I tilted it from side to side.
‘Very nice, what is it?’ Gran called. ‘Is it a vase? It looks a bit grubby. Eh, have you been a cheapskate?’ She nudged Paddy. ‘Couldn’t you stretch to a new one?’
‘It’s an unguentarium,’ I said. Gran looked none the wiser. ‘They were used by the Romans to hold perfumed oils and ointments.’ I ran my finger over the glass. It was pitted in places, but I didn’t see the marks as flaws. They gave the piece character; each one added to its history, and made it what it was. It was in remarkable condition given the likely age; the piriform shape of the bottle helped date it. ‘First century?’ I asked Paddy. He nodded.
‘That’s the most likely.’
Caitlyn was leaning against me, staring at the bottle.
‘It’s over two thousand years old? Wow. Did you dig this up?’ she asked Paddy.
‘No, I bought it.’
‘But wouldn’t it cost, like, millions of pounds to buy something so old?’
‘Not quite millions …’
‘She’d have got more use out of a nice bottle of Chanel,’ Gran said. She looked around for a waiter. ‘Do you reckon they know how to make a proper cup of tea here? I’m parched.’
Mum ordered coffees and Gran’s tea while I packed away Paddy’s present. I could guess what he must have paid for this – not millions, but certainly hundreds – but the price wasn’t the point. There was a memory wrapped up with this bottle, of Paddy taking me to the British Museum for the first time, when we had been visiting his parents who had lived outside London then. He had indulged me as I’d spent hours dawdling around the galleries, particularly the Roman artefacts. I remembered clearly how he’d stood behind me, arms holding me tight against his body as I’d studied a display of glassware, including the most amazing unguentarium made of swirls of marbled amber glass, and he had whispered in my ear that he would find one for me, one day. Had he remembered? Was there a significance in the gift that I hadn’t anticipated?
Despite it being my birthday, I was driving, and when we couldn’t spin out our coffees any longer, I picked up my car keys ready to take Gran back to The Chestnuts. Caitlyn and Luc decided to carry on to one of the pubs in town, and Mum, Tina and Graham were walking home.
‘Won’t you come back for a drink?’ Paddy asked, as we left the warmth and bustle of the bistro and tumbled out into the quiet town centre. He was staying at The White Hart, an easy stagger across the square.
‘I think Gran’s tired …’
‘Not everyone. Just you.’ Paddy lowered his voice. ‘There are things we need to talk about.’
Even without his flicked glance at Caitlyn, I’d known what he meant. I’d wished all night that I’d been able to meet him this afternoon, because it had been heart-breaking to see his response to her in the bistro. He had watched her through the eyes of a parent, marvelling at even the most innocuous comment, smiling at everything she did. I knew, because I did it myself. I had recognised the pride in his expression, because I felt it myself. And now I had to take it away from him.
But as I drove back into town from The Chestnuts, one of the few cars on the road at this time, contemplating the vastness of the star-strewn sky all around, an alternative floated into my mind. Our affairs were so tiny, so immaterial in the grand scheme of things. Caitlyn had no father; Paddy had no child. Would it matter, really, if I told him I’d found evidence that she was his child, when the relationship would benefit them both? Could I get away with it?
Parking in the square again, I crossed over to The White Hart and looked in through the window as I tried to decide what to do. It was relatively busy with Saturday night drinkers, and happiness spilled out onto the pavement through the open windows. There were a few faces I recognised, but my eyes were drawn to the man sitting on his own at a corner table, staring into a half-drunk pint of Guinness. Even from outside, I could sense the nervous energy radiating off him like a live current. The next few minutes – what I was going to say to him – were going to shape the rest of his life. The rest of all of our lives. I pushed open the door and went inside.
Paddy looked up as soon as I walked in, and half rose, but I pointed at the bar and bought a sparkling water and another pint of Guinness before joining him at his table.
‘You haven’t told her yet, have you?’ he said, and I shook my head, because there was no point pretending that I didn’t understand. He sighed, and his hand crept across the table to hold mine. ‘Please, Eve. I have to know. It’s not just for me. It could make Mam happy, for whatever time she has left. It would give Dad a focus, when she’s gone. I’ve got the kit upstairs, for the paternity test. We both need to provide cheek swabs. We could do it this weekend.’
‘There’s no need to do a test,’ I said, and as the frown lines deepened across his forehead, and confusion clouded his eyes, any lingering doubts over what I had to do vanished. ‘I went through Faye’s belongings yesterday. I found evidence of who Caitlyn’s father is.’
It was hard to tell if he was still breathing. He held my hand, and I could feel the tension in his fingers as they wrapped around mine. His hope was so real, so tangible, it was like a third party at the table.
‘I’m sorry, Paddy. She’s not yours.’
His hand slackened in mine, and he slumped back in his seat. Waves of disappointment rolled off him, and I felt terrible that I had done this to him. But when it came to it, I couldn’t do anything else. I couldn’t lie to the two people I loved best in the world, even if it would have been for their good; I couldn’t survive a lifetime of deceit, with the constant worry of being found out. And I understood now, more than I had before, why Paddy had left us all those years ago. Not why he hadn’t told me the truth in the first place – of course, he should have done that – but why, having decided against that course, he couldn’t stay with us and maintain a pretence.
‘Are you sure?’ Paddy asked. ‘There can’t be any doubt?’
‘No. Look.’ I had the letter in my bag, and passed it to him. He withdrew his hand from mine and read it. The emotions trampled across his face: sadness, resignation, acceptance, annoyance. He tossed the note on to the table.
‘Do you know who it is? This M?’
I shook my head.
>
‘Jeez, what a …’ He cut off the word, but his expression finished the sentence for him. ‘She’d have been better with me as a father, wouldn’t she? I know I’ve not been perfect, but this …’ He shook his head. ‘This jerk doesn’t deserve a daughter like her. I would have done my best for her, you know?’
I nodded. I did know. I’d seen how he looked after his parents, and couldn’t doubt that he would look after a child just as well. Finding out about Faye and Paddy had been a shock; the revelation that he had left Caitlyn, knowing she might be his child, had devastated me all over again; but I’d had plenty of time to think about it, without bias this time, and I truly believed that he was a different man now. Looking across the table at him, seeing the tears of disappointment in his eyes, I couldn’t help wishing with all my heart that Caitlyn had been his daughter.
‘Imagine if you’d found this note before – if you’d traced him after Faye died. Caitlyn could have been brought up by this tosser. She was better off with you.’ He picked up his glass and drained it. ‘Did you ever regret it? The decision to bring her up?’
‘No.’ The answer was automatic. It was the one I had always given. But as I looked across at Paddy, literally confronted by the future I might have had, I couldn’t avoid digging deeper at last. What would have happened, if I’d let Caitlyn stay with Mum – or let her be adopted, another option we were offered at the time? I might have had a career in archaeology; I might have married Paddy; I might have been divorced from Paddy by now; I might have had children of my own. And yes, if I was entirely honest, perhaps there had been some moments of regret. But none of these nebulous futures could compare with the real satisfaction of the past: of having kept Caitlyn safe and happy, of having helped her to be the amazing young woman she unquestionably was.
‘I don’t regret it,’ I said. ‘Even with hindsight, I would make the same decision again.’ I had never felt it with such certainty. A strange peace settled over me, seeping deep into my bones. It wasn’t guilt over my part in Faye’s death that had prompted me to look after Caitlyn; I was ready to see that now. It had been an act of love. I would never have done anything different; if Faye had been killed in a car crash, through no fault of mine, I would have taken Caitlyn in just the same. And in making peace with the past, I laid down a foundation for the future – whatever that might look like.
‘You loved her more than me,’ Paddy said.
I wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but I answered it anyway.
‘Yes, I did.’ When he’d left, I hadn’t – even in the darkest moments of misery – considered giving up Caitlyn to persuade him to stay. ‘It turned out for the best, though, didn’t it? You were able to go on and have an amazing career. We can both look back and be proud of what we’ve achieved.’
I clutched my glass. Would he deny it? I’d left the door of our future relationship ajar – would he close it or force it wide open again? The birthday present he had given me tonight had stirred my hope back to life, but I needed to know what this summer had truly been about. Had it been about me, or about Caitlyn? He stared into his glass and I had no idea what he was thinking. At last he raised his head and his brown eyes looked almost black in the dim light of the bar.
‘Turned out for the best,’ he repeated. ‘It’s hard to feel that way tonight.’ He sighed, and flicked at the note from Caitlyn’s father that still lay on the table between us. ‘So that’s it, then.’
And there was the answer to my question. He was thinking about Caitlyn, not me. Hope died.
‘Yes, I guess that’s it.’ I stood up, clutching my handbag to my chest, feeling absurdly overdressed in my expensive frock for being effectively dumped in my local pub. ‘It’s been good seeing you again. Take care.’
I walked out of the bar, without looking back.
Chapter 26
Mum, Caitlyn and Luc stayed for the rest of the week, and it was one of the happiest weeks I could remember us spending together; we bonded and enjoyed each other’s company more than ever before, and we even persuaded Gran to squeeze into the car and join us on a day trip to Lake Windermere. The time for their flights home came round far too soon.
‘Will you be seeing more of Paddy?’ Mum asked out of the blue, as I helped her pack her suitcase. She didn’t need my help, but I needed to give it – wanted to spend these extra few minutes with her. This was a fresh start – we had already made plans for much more frequent visits between Lancashire and the Costa Brava in future. ‘He’s grown up, hasn’t he? More thoughtful than he was.’
I nodded, relieved she hadn’t called him ‘sensible’. That would have shattered his sexy image – not that I had been thinking of his sexiness. Or of him at all. It was over – whatever it had been – he had made that clear in The White Hart, and his silence since then had confirmed it. Perhaps he had felt a twinge of nostalgic passion towards me – the sex in Paris had felt real enough – but his frequent visits to Inglebridge over the last months had been in search of fatherhood, not romance. And I was fine with that, or I would be, soon enough. I’d embraced the independent life for years, and felt no qualms about carrying on with it if I had to. This year had given me more than I could ever have anticipated: a new job in the field I loved, which would be starting in a few weeks; more cash in the bank than I had ever had before; seeing Caitlyn’s blossoming independence; and a rebooted relationship with Mum. Who needed romance?
‘There’s no reason to see him,’ I answered Mum at last, trying to squeeze her extraordinary amount of make-up back into her cosmetic bag. ‘He made contact to find out about Caitlyn, that’s all.’
‘I always liked him,’ Mum said, completely ignoring me. ‘So did your dad. We could see that he made you happy. That’s all we could have asked for.’
I understood that; I could see how happy Luc made Caitlyn. I wondered where this sudden show of support for Paddy had come from. It was too late anyway. What was the use of my family loving him now?
‘Perhaps he lacked a bit of backbone when he was young,’ Mum continued, apparently not having tired of the subject yet. ‘But I believe he’s found it now. He was willing to step up for Caitlyn – and just think, if that story had got into the press, it wouldn’t have reflected well on him. You have to give him credit for that.’
I did – and for the way he looked after his mum. There was no doubt in my mind that Paddy was a far better person than he had been as a boy. He wouldn’t bail out now, if life threw adversity his way. And I hoped I was a better person too. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about this recently, since Paris, and since my conversation with Mum about my part in Faye’s death. Paddy and I had both made impulsive mistakes in our youth, but my mistake – losing my temper with Faye, rather than supporting her – had had much more serious consequences than his. Mum had forgiven me, so how could I not try to forgive Paddy? But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t interested in whether I forgave him or not. At least I could look back on the years we had spent together and remember the happy times now, without bitterness.
It was another difficult parting from Caitlyn. Who knew when she would be back? Her plans for Christmas were still uncertain, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she chose to spend it with Luc rather than me. He tactfully waited in the taxi with Mum, while we said our goodbyes.
‘You are happy in Paris, aren’t you?’ I asked, although I could hardly doubt the answer.
‘I’m loving it,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think I’ll stay when the year’s contract is up.’
‘You might come home?’ I couldn’t keep the hope from my voice.
‘No, we’re thinking we might go travelling. Have a late gap year. It’s hard work looking after someone else’s children, even when you’re being paid for it. I could never have done what you did for me.’
‘Of course you could,’ I replied, but my words were muffled as she threw herself on me in a hug in which we seemed to compete for who could squeeze the most love into it.
‘
You know,’ she said, as she extricated herself at last and dragged her case out of the house, ‘you did better with the “Be Kind to Yourself” vouchers than I thought you would. But you’ve got to keep it up. It’s your turn to have fun now – and you don’t need to tell me about it, so you can do whatever you want, with whomever you choose. As long as you’re happy. It was never supposed to be limited to the number of vouchers I made. It’s a way of life.’
I smiled. The sun bounced off her hair, and she looked so like Faye that I could have cried; but she was good and kind, in a way that I had to accept Faye hadn’t always been. I couldn’t have been more proud of her.
‘Who made you so wise?’ I asked.
She grinned. ‘You did. Love you, Mum!’ she called, and after one final squeeze, she dragged her case down the drive, heading back to her new life. I watched her go, with tears rolling down my cheeks, waving until the taxi disappeared from sight.
*
Life rolled on. The school term started without me, and Tina regaled me with tales about the wonderful new school head, and speculated about the mysterious disappearance of Jo Blair. My new job wasn’t due to start until October, but I was keeping busy by going through an archive of archaeology journals, and had joined the local archaeology group whose existence I had ignored for too long. They were about to finish excavations for the season, but I was enjoying getting involved with planning digs for next year.
Almost two weeks after my birthday meal, my phone rang, and Paddy’s name unexpectedly flashed up on the screen. I hadn’t expected to hear from him again, and none of my fine words about the joy of being independent could prevent my heart picking up speed at the sight of his name.