‘OI! No…’ Paddy suddenly says, stepping in. Peter looks taken aback.
‘And aren’t you his brother? Why is this the first time I’m seeing your mug around these parts?’
‘I work too…’
‘And? So you think it’s a good idea to come here and turn your guilt on this poor girl?’
Peter turns to me, looking for me to defend him. Not today, Pete.
‘Will will call you.’
‘She might pick up…’ Paddy says, shrugging.
I don’t watch as Peter exits the flat. I take a seat on my battered sofa, staring deeply into space. I feel an arm go around my shoulder.
‘Oh, love, can I get you anything?’
I think I’m still processing it all. Last night felt cruel, barbed words spoken when we were drunk and angry and all the emotion flooded out of us. You kissed someone who wasn’t me. I hate how that feels, how I imagine that in my own mind. Now I just feel lost, like I’m wandering through a street that’s unfamiliar and I’ve forgotten where I live. I can tell that Paddy knows I’m at a loss for words.
‘Pete’s a bit of a titgibbon, eh?’
I laugh and cover my mouth, tears clouding my eyes.
‘You didn’t have to do that. Thank you.’
‘Yeah, I did. I don’t get it. Did Will tell you this was happening? Seems a cruel move for him to send his brother over to get his things?’
‘We had words last night. It’s a bit of a blur.’
‘But I thought you two were alright?’
I thought that too, Paddy. I thought we were going through what everyone does when a baby comes on the scene: sleepless nights and absorbing the shock of having another human in the house, your old life together a distant memory. I didn’t think it had got to this point.
‘He doesn’t have another bird?’ he asks.
I shake my head. I am too ashamed to speak of the kiss. But what if it’s more? Who is this girl?
‘Then a time out. Is that what we’re calling it?’
‘Apparently.’
‘If you wanted a time out from the baby in my day, you’d just go down the pub. Out in the garden and smoke in the shed.’
‘You smoke?’
‘I did, that’s what parenthood did to me.’
He sees the sadness in my eyes and places his hand in mine, trying to find the words.
‘You know watching you two and little Joe here brought it all back to me – when Betty had Jack, our firstborn. And you know how I feel when I see you?’
I hope he’s not wincing at how awful I look, wanting to back away in horror.
‘I see someone who does an amazing job, who’s trying her best. That first year of having a baby, it’s the biggest test to any relationship, any human. I never bonded with my second when he was born, did I tell you that?’
‘No.’
‘He was a whiny baby, everything set him off. I’d get so angry with him. And then I’d realise I was getting angry with a baby. That’s when I went up to twenty a day.’
I sit there quietly taking it all in, Joe looking up at me. I’m not that whiny. And he’s not at all. I kiss the top of his head.
‘For all the times I speak about Betty, we had our moments. She once threw an iron at my head. And I’d say the majority of those moments were when we had young children.’
‘So you think this is just part and parcel of having a newborn? Other fathers don’t just walk out…’
‘No, I don’t like that he’s left you here, holding the baby. But I like you two. I also think he’ll come back. Some people are full-on wanker dads and I don’t believe he’s one of them…’
‘You know wanker dads?’
‘We all know wanker dads. The sperm donors who can’t be arsed or don’t see their kids. I knew a bigamist called Alan once. He had hair plugs and wore sweater vests. If I thought Will was like that then I’d barricade those doors before I let him near you and Joe again. Give him that time he needs. I’m here. Literally across the corridor until he comes back.’
He laughs and brings me in for a hug. He smells of tinned soup and ginger nut biscuits but I needed to hear those words. To hear that this is just a blip, that all we need is time and patience. Joe reaches up and pats him on the face. I’m glad you’re here, Paddy. I can’t look after Mum on my own.
Track Fourteen
‘Golden Lady’ – Stevie Wonder (1973)
‘And next it’s Ninja Warrior,’ blasts the television. Joe seems to gurgle in response. Paddy stayed for tea, giving me sage advice and anecdotes, but then left me and Joe to nap. Joe has been my saving grace. He demanded my milk, my attention and saved me from staring at my phone, trying to compose ridiculously long text messages outpouring all my emotions to the man I thought I loved – and I thought loved me. How long has the television been on? Joe seems to be entranced by an ad promoting TENA Lady pads. All the ladies are jumping are about with wild abandon letting me know they’re pissing themselves but it’s OK, they’re protected. Joe giggles at one of the women, who thinks it both acceptable and safe to wear white jeans. Suddenly, loud competitive tones fill the TV screen and excitable audience members scream in their seats. There’s a man in a neon pink shirt in the front row who looks far too excited to be sitting there. It’s just a game show, love. I don’t think I could ever be that excited about anything, ever again. The sound goes in one ear and out the other; I remember putting it on so I could hear something else that wasn’t the creak of the central heating system or the whirling void of my own emotions. ‘And who is going to beat that wall?’ Not me. Never. Ever. Not even if you got three people to push me up there by forming a human chain. Joe looks up at me from a playmat. Does he sense something’s different? Or is he just wondering baby things? Do I need to have a bath tonight or are we having one of those wet flannel, quick wipe-down nights? Have your boobs refilled? I suddenly think about what this means now if Will’s not here. It’ll just be me and this television in this front room. Who will I eat dinner with? Who will leave a cup of tea on my dresser that I will never drink? I look down and Joe is sucking on one of our four remote controls.
‘Don’t do that, Joe…’
He sticks a bottom lip out at me.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. I don’t think I can deal with that now. I give it back to him. He presses all the buttons leaving a contrast/colour menu up that I don’t know how to remove. What is he trying to tell me? That he needs the remote control? That the batteries need changing? Maybe he’s telling me doesn’t like Saturday night TV.
I lie down again next to him. He switches remotes to suck the remnants of milk out of an old muslin. That’s just rank. Have the remote control again. Let’s stay here until we both fall asleep, eh? Will I ever sleep again though? What is my next move? Sit here until Will comes back?
Reliving our conversation from last night makes tears run down my temples. He’s not called or messaged. Has he spoken to anyone? Jason. Maybe I should call Jason to find out what’s going on. I log on to social media. Lucy and I have expert-level stalking skills and it’s not too hard for me to find Shu, Will’s kissing partner. I shouldn’t do this – it’s not healthy – but what else is there to do? She’s skinny and pretty, slightly preoccupied with bubble tea, and now all I can see in my head is her and Will kissing. With such imagined passion that it makes me want to retch. I cannot stomach the fact that, every day, he would have returned to that office where she was. Did they kiss again? Was she good at kissing? Does she like him? Does he like her? I stare at her profile for too long when my phone suddenly vibrates in my hand. It’s not Will but I inhale deeply to see a foreign number appear on the screen.
‘B? Can you hear me? See me?’
‘Gracie?’
‘Wait, I’m going to sit on the roof.’
The roof? I imagine her scaling roof tiles to get better reception. Suddenly, her picture comes into view and I smile to see her face. Grace is our traveller, the sister lost in space and t
ime who decided she couldn’t sit still after the death of her husband but had to keep moving. Am I allowed to say that out of all of us sisters, I miss her the most? I think I’m allowed.
‘I can see you. Where the hell are you?’
‘Somewhere on the coast here in Vietnam.’
Behind her a night sky shines brighter than I’ve ever seen it here, untainted by pollution and clouds. She looks tanned and relaxed in a white vest top and her brown hair is sun-kissed, streaked with blonde. I scrunch up my face.
‘Girl, is that a tattoo?’
She pulls a face at me. ‘Yes?’
‘Is that a shark?’
‘I panicked in the shop. We wanted a fish but now I have this monstrosity on me. And the red bits look like it’s demonic. I’ll have to get it covered up when I get back.’
‘Can I screen grab that for the sisters?’
‘No, you can’t. I was ringing to wish you a happy birthday. Sorry I’m late…’
‘God, even Lucy got in before you.’
‘I hear she put on a party. Was it as good as my eighteenth when she punched the DJ and Dad and Meg had to carry her home?’
‘Better.’
She smiles through the screen. It’s so silent where she is, just the sea breeze, the night air… even to see it feels soothing. I angle the camera at Joe.
‘Little pudding! Oh, B! Hello, hello…’
She waves at the screen and smiles while Joe looks at it blankly. He seems more entranced by the fact someone’s just fallen off a rotating log on the television.
The doorbell suddenly goes.
‘Hold up, I just need to get the door.’
Resting the phone on a coffee table, I pick up Joe and shuffle to the hallway. Standing behind my front door is a man with a pizza box in a red baseball cap and beaten-up trainers.
‘Beth Callaghan?’
‘Yes?’ He hands me the box. ‘I didn’t order this.’
He holds a piece of paper up and reads the order. ‘Someone did.’
My mind goes through what’s happened here. Stolen credit card, prank, maybe I am stealing someone else’s meal.
‘Happy birthday, by the way.’
He gives me a weak salute and then walks away. I take the box inside, confused and rest it on the coffee table.
‘Well, are you going to open it then?’ asks a voice. I turn to Grace and then the box. Inside: a ham and pineapple pizza, the toppings spelling out the greeting ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY B’ along with some interestingly placed olives. I let out a small yelp of excitement.
‘The man in the shop thought I was mad. Yes, I’m ringing from Vietnam and yes, I’ll give you an extra fiver if you can spell out “Happy Birthday” with toppings and stick a candle in the box. And no, her name isn’t Bev.’
It sits there in all its cheese-topped glory. It’s perfect. She knew. It’s so perfect that the tears start to roll down my cheeks. Joe watches and sticks his bottom lip out.
‘Oh, love, don’t… is this about Will? Please stop crying or I’ll cry too.’
‘Who told you?’ I ask her.
‘Luce. She told me to call, that I was far away enough to be reasonable.’
‘That’s true. The others are on the verge of warpath.’
‘Standard?’ she replies. She tries to study my face through the pixels. ‘This is very strange Will behaviour though, right? This doesn’t feel like him.’
Grace, Tom, Will and I were quite the double couple situation back in the day so possibly out of all the sisters, she knows him best.
‘He kissed someone. Someone else,’ I say, my voice cracking. Grace’s eyes widen. Lucy was right. Her being there mitigates any risk of harming him in the flesh. ‘Don’t tell the others, promise me you won’t. I’m telling you because I need to tell someone.’
‘Because Lucy would cut off his bollocks and turn them into earrings,’ Grace tells me.
‘Which is why I don’t need her anger making things worse. He says it was a one-time thing. I’m just trying to work out what it means.’
‘It means he’s a dick.’
‘Or that he’s made a mistake?’
‘Saying two plus two equals five is a mistake. Who is she?’
‘Someone he works with. I’ve been checking out her profile, she’s really pretty and smart.’
‘Stop that. And what else is going on there?’ she asks knowingly.
‘We’ve just drifted apart. He needs space. He’s stressed at work.’
‘Please don’t make excuses for him.’
‘I’m not. Do you know what he got me for my birthday? A gift card. Except I think it might have been a present his brother gave him that he repurposed.’
‘Oh,’ she says, sharing in my disappointment. ‘For how much?’
‘Twenty pounds. M&S.’
‘That’s a meal deal and a decent bra. No knickers though.’
I laugh, using my sleeve to wipe away at the snot.
‘He’s really hurt me, Grace.’ She looks heartbroken that she can’t be here to hold me, embrace me. ‘And I can’t believe he’s not here.’
‘Except he is. I mean, it could be worse, he could be dead.’
She chuckles but closes her eyes and turns to the sky to breathe in the night air. It seems like we’re at the point of her grief where she can try and joke about it now. That’s progress, I guess. Studying her face, I know she’s right, but I don’t know how to reply. Tom’s death always felt like this huge catastrophic event and no words or action from me would be of any worth in piecing her heart back together.
‘He’s really hurt you. He’s betrayed your trust. Process that first. Be angry with him. Get all that emotion out, all the tears, all the sadness. Then work out the other stuff,’ she tells me.
‘All the other stuff is so muddled though. We’re both exhausted. Things are just not how they used to be…’
‘Well, it was never going to be the same. You’re both pretty terrible with change.’
‘We are not.’
‘I’ve seen you both kick off when bands replace their drummers. When McDonald’s stopped doing the Big Breakfast. You wrote me a whole email on that.’
I can’t help laughing that she thinks this is comparable.
‘So you’re just going to sit there until he comes back?’ she asks me.
‘Maybe. Can we come and see you?’
‘I wish.’
I couldn’t even afford the flights right now, but I ache to hold her again and sit next to her, share a slice of pizza even though she’d pick off all the pineapple.
‘B, if we’re going to learn anything from me, it’s that life is too bloody short. I know we hear that all the time like the clichéd trite mantra that it is but it’s the truth.’ As she says it, she turns her gaze to the sea. She looks beautiful, serene, like she’s found some peace. I tear up to think of her healing at least. ‘Just get up. One foot in front of the other for now. Don’t sit in your crap flat and wallow about this.’
‘My flat is homely, not crap.’
‘It’s crap. Change that carpet.’
She cranes her head to see it in all its swirling brown wonder.
‘Whatever that bellend wants to go away and think about, remember you have that gorgeous boy and just embrace that.’
‘Will is not a bellend.’
‘He is today. If you sit and wallow then I will tell Lucy where Will’s brother lives and how Will kissed someone else.’
‘Fine, I won’t wallow.’
She smiles again to see Joe kicking his legs on the floor. She wouldn’t be smiling if these calls came with smell.
‘I bloody love that you’re a mum now, B. I wish I could have been there when Joe was born. It still sucks that I’ve not cuddled him yet.’
‘He’s very cuddly. You’d like him.’
‘I bet. Now, light that candle on that pizza before it gets cold. I need to sing.’
‘Do I have to hear it?’
I grab a lighter fro
m a drawer in the coffee table, wedging it into an olive. Grace starts singing. She’s not known for her tune but the enthusiasm makes Joe giggle. I remember her and Lucy in my car blasting out Alanis Morissette in my back seat, downing cans of apple Tango, Lucy shouting at her inability to harmonise. I look down at the candle. This is when I make a wish, isn’t it? I close my eyes and blow. Will. I wish for Will. And abs. And to win the lottery. I hear clapping on the other end of the phone.
‘Did I get you the best present this year? Did I? Did I?’
‘You win, hands down.’ She does a fist pump from her rooftop veranda then takes a little bow.
‘What else did you get?’
‘Haven’t checked.’
‘Well, let me have a look,’ she says, her head craning. ‘It’s gone midnight here, everyone’s asleep. You can entertain me.’
I hang a slice of pizza from my mouth and dig through the crate of gifts on the living room floor. There’s so much wine. And so many cards. Oh, a card from someone who thought it was my thirtieth. They can come again.
‘Emma’s new bloke got me a pretty new mug,’ I say, holding it up.
‘Very nice. Also useful.’
‘More gift cards, a cotton tote book bag and some organic candle melts with hints of ginger and tangerine.’
‘A veritable treasure trove.’
I hold everything up for her approval. She pulls a face to see the sunflower suncatcher that may be homemade. She mocks the old lady scarf, though maybe that’s someone hinting I need to hide my aged turkey neck. I gorge on this pizza. Man, it’s everything I need: crisp base, soft gooey cheese and tangy pineapple. She even called a fancy restaurant to order it. I’m the only one in the family who says pineapple belongs on pizza and even though the sisters tease me for it, it’s also become my trademark. Even if I have nothing else to look forward to, tonight me and this pizza are having a torrid one-night stand.
‘You really love pineapple, eh?’ Grace says.
‘It’s the king of fruits. It even has its own crown. It belongs on everything.’
‘Just not pizza.’
I stick my tongue out at her.
‘I miss you, Gracie.’
Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?: An absolutely laugh-out-loud and feel-good page-turner Page 17