‘Whatever you think,’ he said. And although he was agreeing with me, I was annoyed. I wanted to tell him to argue, if he wanted to argue; I wanted him to question my logic and drag the real story out of me, and if that wasn’t an option, I wanted him to leave.
‘I’ve got a lot to get on with.’ Dylan nodded obediently and gave me a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks,’ I said as he stepped into the hallway. I waited until I heard him climb the stairs before opening my computer again. There was a new email from Frank, the latest in a chain arranging a weekend away on his friend Anthony’s boat. I had resisted initially, but then he wrote that ‘sea air is the perfect thing for clearing your head’ and I wanted in. I didn’t see Ruby for the rest of the day; if she ate or relieved herself, she did it when I was out of earshot. Dylan took up her place on the sofa for the afternoon. When he collected Chloe they returned with fish and chips, which they ate out of their laps in front of the television. It was like I wasn’t even there.
27
PACKING WAS AN issue. What do you wear on a boat? It’s the sort of thing I’d ask Dylan. He’d make a naff joke about galoshes. I told him I was going to Italy with Bettina. Where, I claimed, we were staying at her family’s holiday home. I should have said we were going on a boat; the more details that were changed, the more there was to remember. I nearly cancelled the entire thing when he offered to drop my bag to Betty’s after work. It was too close. In the end he got a last-minute booking and apologized for letting me down.
I dragged my suitcase behind me the entire commute to work. It bruised my calves and chafed my hand and I felt like I deserved it. Bettina watched as I tried to force it under my desk.
‘Minibreak?’ she said.
‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘Where’s he taking you?’ I fumbled and the case fell to the floor with a thump. Bettina tutted, walked round and gave me a little shove out of the way. She smoothly turned the case on its side and slid it under the desk. ‘Did he plan something or did you have to do it all yourself?’ She rolled her eyes playfully. It was then I realized that the ‘he’ she was referring to was Dylan.
‘Yeah,’ I said. Not really answering the question.
‘What you doing? Bit of spa? Bit of food?’ I made a noncommittal noise. Bettina returned to her desk.
‘I think me and Tristan are heading towards minibreak territory. He keeps talking about events in the future, you know? Like he’s planning a holiday next year and he hasn’t officially invited me, but he talks about it like I’m there.’ She looked all flushed. I loved seeing her bathed in the bright glow of the early days, and I also felt jealous that I couldn’t tell her why I was feeling the same. ‘Tell me where you’re going. I want to get ideas.’
‘Um …’ I played with a pile of paperclips on my desk. ‘Well, we’re going to stay in Bristol, see a gig of some sort. Just mooch about. Mum’s staying with the girls.’
‘Sounds good. Have you seen the hotel?’ said Bettina.
‘No.’
‘A surprise. There’s life in the old dog yet. I don’t think Tristan’s the surprise type. He plans his pants and socks for the week.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve been really busy with Nush and we haven’t had a proper catch-up in ages. Do you want to go for a coffee this afternoon?’
‘I can’t. Carter’s busting my arse with new business pitches. Fancy a drink later?’ I indicated the case.
‘We’re leaving straight after work. Maybe Monday?’
‘What’s happening Monday?’ said Annie from behind me. Bettina started typing rapidly.
‘Nothing,’ I said lightly.
‘Oh,’ said Annie, matching my tone. ‘I thought you might be meeting Nush.’ She was wearing a blue pleated skirt and sleeveless white shirt. It was office appropriate but still cute and feminine. Annie would know what to wear on a boat.
‘I have nothing scheduled.’ I turned towards my computer screen to signal the close of the conversation.
‘Only she called you several times yesterday,’ Annie said. ‘I tried to help but I don’t know much about the project.’ I turned back to her slowly. When I didn’t respond immediately, Annie’s mouth twitched but the rest of her remained composed.
‘Why didn’t you let me know she called?’ I asked. My jaw was tight and the words emerged unevenly.
‘You said you didn’t want to be disturbed.’ I did. And darling Annie always followed my instructions so carefully.
‘Thank you, Annie,’ I said. She pushed aside a stack of paperwork on my desk and perched herself daintily next to my keyboard.
‘Frantic clients are part of the job, I suppose. If you want me to be back-up, you know, for the client management …’ I gave Annie a look that told her I was well aware her goal was to manage my clients right out of my portfolio. She coloured and slipped back to the floor. I pretended to read emails as I listened to her click away.
‘Monday,’ said Bettina. ‘She’s second on the agenda.’
My day was taken up with placating Nush. When she hadn’t been able to get hold of me, she had panicked and contacted another agency. It took several phone calls to reassure her I was still the best fit.
‘Why didn’t you ring my mobile?’ I reprimanded softly.
‘I haven’t saved your number in my phone.’ I rubbed a throbbing artery in my temple.
‘Well, do that as soon as we finish this call.’ I took several deep breaths. ‘Frank sent you to me for a reason. I know what it means to want a fresh start.’
‘I know. I know,’ said Nush. ‘People have let me down before and I think I have … um …’
‘Abandonment issues?’
‘No, that’s not the one.’
‘Commitment phobia?’
‘No. No. It will come to me.’
‘When it does, call me. On my mobile.’ I placed the phone back in its nook and it rang immediately.
‘ADD!’ exclaimed Nush.
‘Great, Nush. Thanks. My mobile.’
Bettina walked out with me.
‘It’s so nice tonight. You sure Dylan doesn’t want a pint before you set off?’ Aunt Caitlin, the one who believes in spirits, has tinnitus. As obsessed with ghosts as she was, the thing that really haunted her was a constant ringing in her head. She would say it was like a car alarm going off in the night. If she’s distracted she can ignore it; when she thinks about it, it drowns out everything else. I don’t know why I told Dylan I was going to be with Bettina but the error bounced round my brain, ramming everything else aside. I hadn’t had to hide anything in so long, not a stray fart or a pair of period pants. I was monstrously out of practice. Right then it occurred to me that at some point they would meet, at a birthday or impromptu barbecue, and devoid of any other connection he would ask about the trip. Bettina wouldn’t laugh it off politely, that wasn’t her way. She would probe until every detail had been excavated, like decay from a tooth.
I tried to concentrate but still couldn’t take in what she was saying. ‘… I hope it stays like this …’ We stopped in front of the building. Frank was due to pick me up at six-thirty – ‘SHARP’ he added, with a winky-face emoji. I was so taken with the idea of him carrying me away from it all that I didn’t assess the potential dangers of meeting outside the office. ‘… We’re going to Hyde Park. I want to go on one of those boats. Is that too cutesy?’ A car horn startled me. I looked around but couldn’t see Frank’s car.
‘I’m in a rush,’ I told Bettina. I gave her a quick hug, hoping to convey the warmth I was aware my voice had not held. Her mouth closed; I knew she had been mid-sentence and that I should ask her to repeat it, but I couldn’t. I let my fingers linger on her silk blouse. I hoped she would understand that it meant I was sorry and that I wasn’t a bad friend, I was just bad at being good. I lugged my case up the street and my phone started to ring, but I didn’t want Bettina to see me stop, so I kept walking to the first turn and then ducked into the doorway of a closed shop. It was Frank
.
‘Why are you running away from me?’ he asked.
‘I’m round the corner,’ I said.
‘Yeah, I saw you bolting. Why are we whispering?’
‘I’m not whispering,’ I said, although I had unconsciously lowered my voice.
‘I’m coming,’ he said. He pulled up seconds later, honking the horn and rattling my already shattered nerves. I threw the suitcase in the back, and bolted round the front of the car to climb into the passenger seat.
‘Very dramatic,’ Frank said. ‘Is this that thing women are always talking about – keeping me on my toes?’
‘Just go,’ I urged. ‘I didn’t want Bettina to see us.’
‘You could have said I was an Uber or something.’
‘Go!’ I shrieked. I was feeling genuine, primal, will-I-be-eaten-by-a-lion fear. I didn’t understand it, why the thought of revealing myself to Bettina was so terrifying.
I noticed Frank didn’t check his mirrors before he pulled away. He was sure of his safety, or maybe he didn’t care. I, on the other hand, didn’t relax until we were beyond the city and the road signs sold the promise of escape.
‘All aboard,’ called Anthony from the deck. He had on frayed denim shorts, a polo shirt and a captain’s cap. The hat only made me feel less confident about his role as leader. I watched Frank pass our bags across from the dock and eyed the plank of wood serving as an entryway warily. Midi pencil skirts were not boat wear. Frank traversed the plank deftly before reaching towards me. I’d have to take several steps by myself before I could touch him. It was an exercise in trust. When you’re looking for the right answers, everything feels symbolic – if he caught me, what we were doing was OK, and if he didn’t, I might drown. As I stepped on to the wood, the boat moved.
‘Did I do that?’ I asked. Anthony laughed and slapped his thighs. Spittle gathered at the corner of his mouth. I suspected he might be a little drunk.
‘You’ll get your sea legs in no time, darling.’ I retreated back to the shore and took off my heels. The second time I tried, I knew what to expect. I held my breath and moved forward. The first few steps were steady, but for the last few I was overconfident and veered to the left. Frank grabbed me by the arm and I half stepped, half fell on to the deck. ‘All aboard!’ shouted Anthony. He pulled me into an embrace. His scent confirmed my suspicion – a confusing mix of spirits, aftershave and enthusiasm.
‘Thank you for having me. I’m not sure I dressed appropriately.’ I used the opportunity of gesturing to my outfit to step away from him.
‘You can borrow something of mine,’ said a voice behind me. A woman’s head popped up from inside the cabin. Her harshly bleached hair was pulled back into a bun, highlighting the unnatural tightness of her face.
‘Come down. Get a drink. The boys can launch.’ That didn’t sound like something I wanted to do, so I squeezed Frank’s hand before joining her below deck. The woman wasn’t much taller than me, but what she lacked in size, she made up for in presence. Everything about her was brash, from her voice to her floral-print muumuu.
‘I’m Margie,’ she said. ‘Let me get you a drink.’ The boat had a perfectly formed miniature kitchen. She pulled an open bottle of champagne from a tiny fridge and poured me a glass.
‘Alison,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I know everything!’ This kind of bold, patently untrue statement would normally aggravate me, but it was such a relief not to have to hide. ‘I’ll give you the tour.’ She pointed to the front of the boat. ‘Bedroom.’ She pointed behind me. ‘Bedroom, bathroom. No number twos in the port.’
‘No port poos. Got it.’ She smiled and did an odd little dance on the spot.
‘I’m so pleased you’re here. We’re going to have such a fun time. Sonya never wants to come.’ She clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ So, her name was Sonya. I tried to stop myself imagining what a Sonya might be like – how she would speak, what sort of underwear she might wear.
‘No, I’m sorry if we’ve put you in an awkward position,’ I said.
‘Not. At. All. It’s maritime laws on here,’ she said. She laughed at her own joke. Or at least, I assumed that’s what she was doing. Her face and body shook violently, but in contrast to her the rest of the time, she made no noise. Whilst she wasn’t offensive, I didn’t feel completely comfortable in her presence. If I found myself next to her at a dinner party, I might subtly switch seats. But she was the only person I could speak openly to about Frank. She was my new best friend.
‘Your boat is lovely. Thanks for inviting me. You know, it’s difficult being together.’
‘Are you happy though?’ It’s the question that had escaped me the whole time. I was so fixated on the right and the wrong of it, what was for the best and how to manage the inevitable fallout, that I’d missed the key to any choice I’d made. Did it make me happy? And at that point he did.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘That’s all that matters then. Forget all the other stuff. I’m Tony’s third wife, and the second was none too happy about my appearance on the scene. Anyway, that’s in the past. She loves me now. People do, they can’t help themselves.’ She gave a sympathetic shrug. ‘You can’t be expected to get everything right first try.’ The boat moved and I grabbed for the counter, slopping my drink on my skirt in the process.
‘Shit,’ I said, at the same time as Margie screamed, ‘Ships ahoy!’ For seasoned sailors, these guys were still very excited by all the lingo. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, looking at the patch on my crotch. ‘Do you want to borrow something?’ I looked at Margie’s muumuu and thought, when in Rome, put on a toga.
28
AFTER I HAD acclimatized to the floor moving and an unexpected sense of claustrophobia, it was peaceful being out at sea. The air or the water, or the distance from anything I had to take responsibility for, was very relaxing. I’d been focused on comparing my life at home with the possibility of life with Frank, but it was all my life. I could be part of this and the girls could be part of it with me. Chloe would love it on the boat. It would completely align with her sense of drama, and she would write a play about being a pirate. Ruby would declare it totally Insta-worthy. And Dylan would be fine, because he was a good man and a great father and in time he’d understand. The sound of the motor must have masked his approach, because I didn’t hear Frank before I felt him move in behind me and cradle me in his arms and legs.
‘You good?’ he asked.
‘I’m great.’
‘Was worried you might feel sick.’
‘Shut up!’ I slapped his arm and he squeezed me closer.
‘I’m so, so glad you’ve come,’ he whispered. I closed my eyes. I wanted to keep the moment. I concentrated on the pressure of him against my back, and the warmth of his arms, and the contrast of this with the wet wind stroking my skin.
‘I was thinking about what it would be like to bring the girls out here,’ I said. Saying it made me nervous. I didn’t want to deny my children but I also didn’t particularly want to draw attention to how confused our situation was.
‘That would be great,’ he said. ‘Every childhood should be filled with opportunities.’ I definitely think the word ‘love’ is thrown out too readily. At the end of phone calls; in testimonials about Frappuccinos – but that was the moment I realized that I loved him. Scared the feeling would fall out of my mouth, I stood. I shuffled to the bow of the boat, Margie’s spare muumuu billowing like another sail.
‘I’m the king of the world!’ I shouted into the distance.
‘Oh, darling,’ Margie called back from the deck. ‘Everyone does that.’
I offered to make dinner. The captain and his mate were far too merry. The main ingredient available was alcohol, but I managed to cobble together a pasta dish with a tomato and vodka sauce. I had become used to the motion of the boat, keeping my feet apart and engaging my core as I diced garlic. It astonished me how quickly we adapt. The rest of t
he crew cheered when I passed the steaming pan up to the deck.
‘A proper little wifey,’ said Anthony, with an exaggerated wink to Frank.
‘Eat up,’ I said, returning to the cabin for kitchenware. When I returned, Anthony was eating pasta straight from the pan with his fingers. I smacked the back of his hand as he reached in for more.
‘Have I been naughty?’ he said, and Margie did her weird seizure-laugh.
‘No, you’ve been great. I had no idea how much I needed to get away.’ Frank kissed my shoulder and served me some food.
‘She’s been working with Nush,’ he said, as he served himself and then Margie.
‘Oh Jesus, is she still knocking around? She used to work for me,’ Anthony explained.
‘Oh,’ I said through a mouthful of food. So, he was the strip-club owner.
‘She’s hard work but she’s got a heart of gold underneath the messiness.’
‘Yeah,’ I said sadly. ‘She seems a bit lost. I really hope this show she’s planning comes together.’
‘I’ll offer any help I can. If you need venues or anything,’ said Anthony. Despite his words running into each other, he sounded sort of professional. I conceded that he might have more dimensions than the lovable buffoon he generally presented as. My body hummed with excitement. I wasn’t necessarily confident about the types of venues he could provide, but I loved that we were sitting over dinner chatting about someone in common; that he spoke about a future, with me in it, so casually. ‘She still pretending to be clean?’ he asked. I wasn’t sure if offering an opinion amounted to breaking client confidentiality, so focused on evenly coating a piece of pasta in sauce. Anthony took this as concurrence. ‘She needs to slow down if she doesn’t want a hole straight through her head. We all do a bit of blow now and then, but she’s turned it from a hobby into a full-time occupation.’
I do not do a bit of blow, not now, not then, not ever. I’ve taken non-prescription drugs twice. Once with David – we were at a club; I told him I wasn’t feeling well. It was true; his blatant flirting was making me ill. He handed me something. I assumed it was a painkiller but it turned out to be ecstasy. I was livid when he told me the next morning, whilst snorting with laughter into the tea I had made him. I was used to the betrayal and angrier that it had worked. After the pill, the evening felt so much easier – interactions were effortless and I felt inexplicably close to David, and everyone else for that matter. But it had all been a chemically induced farce.
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