by Jo Lovett
‘I booked afternoon tea for us.’ Dominic nodded to one of the livery-clad waiters and said, ‘The Green Room.’
‘This way, sir.’
‘Thank you.’ Dominic put his hand in the small of Izzy’s back and started to usher her towards the Green Room. It was strange, having him behave in a husbandly way. They hadn’t been out together anywhere like this for such a long time. It was kind of nice, in a weird way.
A couple of women seated at tables they passed on their way across the room smiled at Dominic as he walked behind Izzy. Women did like the wholesome handsomeness he had going. Handsome. Sam popped into Izzy’s head. Although he was more rugged than wholesome.
‘Everything alright?’ Dominic asked after the waiter had seated them.
‘Yes, lovely, thank you.’ Izzy was going to be the perfect ex-wife this afternoon, however much what he was about to say might hurt. She looked round the room. Very classically tasteful, very high-end, very full of more well-dressed and well-jacketed people. ‘It’s very nice here.’
‘Yes, I think so. I’ve been several times and it’s always a good experience.’
‘Have you?’ Now Izzy was staring at Dominic. Had he been back in London several times without telling her or seeing his own daughter? Or did he mean that he used to meet people here before they split up and he moved to Milan? If that was the case, there was a lot they’d ended up not talking about. Izzy tried to remember if she’d told Dominic about her own favourite cafés. Or when the last time they’d been for coffee together had been.
‘Yes. My mother likes it here, very much.’ Dominic caught the eye of one of the waiters, who started walking towards them. Izzy nodded. That made sense. Dominic was a devoted only child. And his mother was nearly always Chanel-suited and pearl-necklaced, so she’d be in her element here. ‘And clients.’
‘So how long have you been coming here?’
‘Years. I don’t know why I never brought you here.’ Wow. Was she hurt that he hadn’t told her? She wasn’t sure.
Dominic put his menu down on the table without opening it. ‘I think we should both have the summer tea. You’ll love it.’ He was well meaning, but he’d always had a tendency to think he knew what she’d like. Sometimes he was right; sometimes he was wrong.
‘Just something small for me and maybe a cappuccino. I’m not hugely hungry.’
They ordered one afternoon tea to share. Their waiter reappeared remarkably quickly with a tiered stand containing delectable-looking sandwiches and patisseries and their coffee pots, and embarked on a detailed description of all the food.
By the time he’d finished, Izzy had almost bitten through her lip, she was trying so hard not to laugh.
‘Every time.’ Dominic shook his head at her, smiling, as the waiter left and Izzy sniggered out loud.
‘I know. Sorry. It’s because it’s supposed to be serious.’
‘Like standing in a lift.’
‘Exactly.’ She smiled at him. They’d had the same conversation about Izzy’s compunction to laugh in certain situations many times, in the earlier days of their relationship, when they still went places together.
Her smile dropped. Dominic and she didn’t always find the same things funny, but they knew each other very well, and she liked him, and she was pretty sure he liked her too. It was really sad. They had a lot of history.
‘Why did you ask to meet?’ she asked. They should get the chat over and done with now, rather than making things feel worse with trips down memory lane.
‘I’ve been missing Ruby, and you, and London life, so I’m moving back from Milan in a few weeks’ time.’ Woah. Not what she’d been expecting to hear. Did this mean that he was going to want to share custody of Ruby now? Was that what he wanted to talk about? ‘I thought that we could maybe start spending some time together again?’ What?
‘The three of us?’
‘Yes, the three of us, but also the two of us.’
‘Oh.’ Again, what? So not what she’d been expecting. Did he mean that he didn’t want a formal divorce at this point? Why did he want to spend time together just the two of them? Izzy had been thinking about this in a very theoretical way, but it hadn’t seemed at all likely that he’d actually move back to London in the near future. What would this mean in practice?
She loved seeing her friends, but it was already tricky to squish them in round Ruby and work. And Izzy had begun to really value those two or three hours to herself in the evening when Ruby was in bed. Did she actually have time for Dominic in her life right now?
Maybe that had been the problem with their marriage. Maybe they should have made time for each other. Izzy was making time for painting and Barney, after all, because she wanted to. Maybe they should both have made a bigger effort.
‘So what do you think?’ Dominic held the sandwich plate out for Izzy. She took a crab salad one and a smashed avocado one. It would be criminal to leave them uneaten. Also, chewing was handy when you weren’t sure what to say. Ruby. Izzy needed to think about Ruby and what would be good for her.
Having parents on good terms was what would be good for her. Modern, amicably separated, consciously uncoupled co-parents.
‘Sounds nice.’
‘Great. So maybe we could have dinner next time I’m over? And perhaps spend time together with Ruby as well?’
‘Lovely.’ It would be good, actually. This was good, now. Comfortable.
‘Excellent. So what have you been up to recently?’ Dominic poured coffee for her.
‘Well, I’ve been quite busy with Ruby and work, obviously. And chores. They’re never-ending.’
‘Why don’t you re-hire a cleaner?’
‘Yes, maybe.’ Izzy couldn’t afford a cleaner. Dominic was very generous with money and she knew he’d happily pay but she didn’t want to be financially dependent on him. ‘I had a nice birthday. I went out with a few friends and then Emma stayed over. And Emma and I went to this painting event on Wednesday, which we both loved.’
‘Painting?’ Dominic didn’t look up. He was busy taking another sandwich.
‘Yes. There’s an artist with two canvases on easels. They’ve already done a copy of a famous painting on one and then they replicate it on the other easel, in stages, and you copy them on your own canvas. It’s kind of confusing to start off with, but so cool, and…’ And he wasn’t paying attention at all. No point talking. To be fair, Izzy had often tended to zone out when Dominic talked about multi-million-euro deals and carbon fibre golf clubs, which he did quite a lot. They did have fairly separate interests. They’d been too busy. Going back to the point that they should have made more of a conscious effort to spend time together.
‘I thought you meant you’d been to a gallery. Sounds unusual.’
‘It was great. I’ve put it on the wall in the kitchen.’ Now she had his attention. His head had shot up.
‘You’ve put the adult version of children’s artwork on our kitchen wall?’
‘Ruby and I like it,’ she said, possibly with a snap. So rude. And it was Izzy and Ruby’s kitchen wall. She and Dominic had agreed that. They’d split things informally so that Izzy had the house but got no maintenance from him, and they’d agreed that if and when they got formally divorced, that’s how they’d carry on.
Dominic looked at her, properly. ‘Sorry. That was rude. Maybe a bit pompous.’ He smiled slightly. Possibly he’d remembered the word pompous from occasional arguments in the past. ‘I’m glad you had fun.’ Patronising, but he was clearly making an effort to be nice, so Izzy should too. She smiled back at him.
‘What have you been up to?’ she asked.
She made herself focus while he talked, and, actually, he did have some good anecdotes. Not laugh-out-loud funny, but listening to him was a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. They could absolutely be friends. Ideal for their own sakes as well as Ruby’s.
That crab sandwich was amazing. Izzy took another one. They were only small. Mmm, the flavours.
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br /> ‘This is a delicious sandwich,’ she said. ‘I want to recreate this filling at home. Like one of those MasterChef challenges. It’d make an amazing salad with baby spinach.’
‘You’ve always been a good cook.’ Dominic took another couple of sandwiches. ‘Try one of these mackerel and gooseberry ones. They’re very good, too. What time would you like me to bring Ruby home this evening after the party? I thought I might take her to the cinema.’
‘Eight-ish? Eight thirty? I’m sure one late night will be okay. She’ll be very excited to see you.’ And then probably have an accident later tonight like last time. Poor Ruby; it was all so confusing for her.
They finished their – much more enjoyable than expected – afternoon tea just in time for Dominic to jump in a cab to go and pick Ruby up while Izzy took the Tube home. She nearly missed her stop because her mind was full of her next Barney session and chores and how lovely the tea with Dominic had been. It had felt almost date-like, in a good way. She’d enjoyed their conversation. Although Dominic hadn’t made her laugh as much as the email that had just arrived from Sam did.
Honestly, now she was smiling away to herself thinking of Sam. Ridiculous; she barely knew him. If anyone, Dominic was the one who should make her smile. They weren’t divorced yet, and maybe they wouldn’t ever be.
Eleven
Sam
‘Cheers.’ Sam nudged beer glasses with Luke and tried to relax. This was great. Him and Luke, the twins, Luke’s wife, Nadia, and their three little girls, a barbecue and a beautiful, still, warm evening, sitting in the garden of Luke and Nadia’s new family home upstate, enveloped in the sound of cicadas, the scent of clematis and milkweed. Perfect really.
For someone who didn’t have at least another sixteen hours of work to get through before Monday morning, anyway. Sam was going to be working extremely late both tonight and tomorrow night because his mother might actually kill him with disappointment if he pulled out of their extended family lunch again tomorrow, but the Buck contract wasn’t going to review itself, plus it looked as though his Mexico deal was blowing up.
‘You look a little stressed. Kids okay? Barney’s looking happy. Liv’s walking better.’ Luke indicated to a corner of the garden, where the twins were laughing at Luke’s four-year-old, dressed this evening in Halloween ghost garb for no apparent reason.
‘Yeah. The physio’s pleased with her progress. Other than that, teenage girls are complicated. You know. But all good.’ Not true. Maybe one day he’d be able to talk to Luke about the guilt and how difficult his relationship with Liv was becoming, but he couldn’t get the words out yet. ‘Barney has a new speech therapist. She’s good.’ He wasn’t going to mention how he’d found Izzy, or their frequent email exchanges, which were fast becoming the best moments of his day. What would he say? I’m a thirty-nine-year-old man with a new penfriend? Yeah, no.
Also, how would he explain how he’d met Izzy in the first place? Luke had been his best man at his wedding and Sam hadn’t mentioned their earlier encounter, despite it being just the kind of anecdote he would have loved. Truth was, it had shaken him so much that he couldn’t tell anyone about it. So this woman asked me out this morning and a big part of me wanted to say yes. Yeah, again, no. And he’d never mentioned their subsequent meeting, because, really, how to explain that it had felt a big deal? He’d felt pretty conflicted after that coffee. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he’d met the right one, just at the wrong time. Again.
Now, several short-term relationships down the line, and with the knowledge that if you loved too much you could just get hurt, Sam knew that friendships were what you focused on if you had any sense, not romance. He had a new friend in Izzy, but he wasn’t ready to talk about that friendship with Luke.
‘And work?’ Luke’s broad face was creased in concern.
‘Yeah, the usual nightmare of trying to fit in a twenty-hour day around family time, sleep, food, exercise.’ Sam knew he was sounding bitter and he didn’t like the worry in Luke’s eyes. ‘But tell me more about your new job.’ Luke worked in AI and had just joined a very hip tech company. ‘And let me get another look at your gorgeous new addition.’ Sam took Baby Ellie from Luke. ‘Did she just poop?’ Excellent timing to deflect Luke’s attention well away from talking about Sam’s problems. Sam watched Luke take Ellie inside for a diaper change. He was too good a friend to let the subject of Sam’s misery drop, but Sam didn’t have the emotional capacity to talk right now. There was no point. He couldn’t change anything.
* * *
‘Bedtime,’ Sam said as soon as he and the twins got back to the apartment. If he didn’t start his work right now he’d be up half the night. ‘That was a good evening, wasn’t it?’ Sam had enjoyed it, although considerably less than he would have done without the constant niggle that work was calling.
‘Yes. Baby Ellie’s sooo cute and Nadia’s really cool. She’s a really nice mom,’ Liv said.
Liv had been mentioning other people’s mothers a lot recently. It didn’t take a genius to work out that she was probably thinking more about her own mother as she grew up.
‘Yeah, it was fun.’ Barney had seemed noticeably more outgoing this evening. His sessions with Izzy were definitely helping. Maybe Sam would take a couple minutes to email her before he started going through the contract.
Hey,
Gotta say, you’re a miracle worker. Barney’s much happier. Thank you!
He and I shot a few hoops together this afternoon. He passed on what you said about stuttering being a different way of talking, not worse, not better, just different. I think that way of looking at things gave him a real boost and he now understands that the strategies are there to help him cope with speaking in stressful situations but not to change him. Thank you. He’s grateful that you treat him ‘a lot more like an adult than Therapists One to Twelve did’. Calls you Izzy, too (not ‘Thirteen’)—serious compliment.
He also told me that you said you were planning to email over a cake recipe that he’d like to try. I can only say: Recipe? Baking!? Barney!?!
Looking forward to tasting (I think?!).
Hope the meeting with your ex went well.
S
He’d look forward to her reply in the morning.
Sunday lunch the next day was more difficult to get through, firstly because Sam had only managed four hours’ sleep and secondly because his mother cornered him in the kitchen when they went in together to get the egg tarts she’d baked for dessert.
‘Honey, you seem distant.’ She opened the freezer and took ice cubes out. ‘Is everything alright?’ She plopped cubes into water jugs.
‘Everything is great,’ Sam lied. ‘Just a little tired. Those look heavy.’ He took the jugs from her and escaped to the garden, and made sure to take Barney back with him to collect the food, so that his mother wouldn’t pursue the conversation.
‘I worry about you,’ his mother mouthed at him from behind Barney’s back.
‘Thank you. I love you.’ Sam hugged her, picked up a large tart and a big bowl of raspberries and left the room, and to avoid his mother sent Liv back in his place to help with the rest of the dessert and crockery.
Sam left shortly after the last of the egg tarts was demolished so that he could get some work done. Ignoring side-eye from Liv, and Barney refusing to meet his eye at all, he accepted the offer of a lift home for the twins from one of his brothers-in-law, so that they could continue to hang out with their cousins for the rest of the day while he worked.
The twins got back straight before dinner. Sam discovered quickly that for the third meal running he was going to have to endure a conversation he didn’t want to have.
‘Dad, I was thinking.’ Barney, sounding awkward, twisted spaghetti round his fork and piled on more of Sam’s bolognese sauce, his signature – and only – dish. ‘Could we meet your girlfriend?’
Liv said, ‘Woah.’
Sam nearly choked on his spaghetti and said, ‘Not
my girlfriend.’
‘What is she then?’ Liv had her head tilted to one side and a completely non-judgemental look on her face, covering, Sam was sure, a lot of internal judging. Only thirteen and she could give most attorneys Sam knew an extremely good run for their money. She was currently reminding him, which didn’t feel good, of when he’d been about seventeen and he’d had a very brief but sexually outstandingly gratifying ‘relationship’ with a woman in her early thirties who he’d met when he was out running, and his mother had got wind of their affair – she’d done the same head tilt, non-confrontational, non-judgemental questioning. It had worked a lot better than his father’s yelling had.
‘A friend.’ He took a big mouthful of spaghetti, buying thinking time. Rude to talk with your mouth full.
‘Good friend?’ Liv asked, still with the head tilting and the lack of visible judgement. All very conversational. That was actually a very good question. On balance, no, Melissa probably wasn’t a good friend. Not probably, definitely. She had some great conversation, she was excellent company for an evening, they had fun in bed. Would he confide in her? No. Would he trust her? No. Would he introduce his children to her? Absolutely not.
Sam kept on chewing, so that he didn’t have to speak. No danger of indigestion after this mouthful. He imagined for a moment Barney stuttering in front of Melissa. She’d probably raise a beautifully arched eyebrow, just a fraction, and smile just a fraction too un-warmly, and the stutter would seem huge. And get a lot more marked, instantaneously.
When they’d met a man with Tourette’s in a bar on Friday evening, Melissa had been an intolerant asshole – no other word for it. Zero understanding or compassion.
In that moment, Sam realised that he wasn’t going to see her again. Funny how it could take an innocent question from one of your children to make you nail down what had been hiding from you in plain sight. Once your kids had asked to meet a friend of yours and you’d realised that never in a million years would you want them to meet that friend, you realised that the friendship had kind of run its course. And had never been a great friendship in the first place.