by Fiona Perrin
‘Can I get a Campury bag?’
‘Don’t push your luck,’ I said. ‘You’ve got enough freebies. And we’ll stay in a great hotel, all paid for by the company.’
‘And can I really come with you?’
‘My plus one. Bridget and Marti will fly in for the event itself,’ I said. ‘He’s invited a couple of the board members. You’ll probably have to sit next to one of them, but that’s the only crap bit about it. Now what’s been happening? Still shagging Peter?’
‘Hmm, yes,’ said Liv shiftily and changed the subject. ‘How’s Lars?’ I’d rung her from holiday to tell her about what had happened.
‘It’s weird. We have a strange new hope: I think we’re going to manage to be quite good friends after the last few months. Like I said, we went on to have quite a good holiday – just hanging out with the kids and getting on with each other.’
‘Are they OK?’
‘We sat and talked to them for quite a while halfway through the holiday. Tess wanted to know if she now got two of everything – “Two beds!” she kept shouting. “And two birthdays.” They both said how much they liked seeing their dad regularly when they knew it was happening – “Daddy’s house every week after football” – that kind of thing. Damn, all I know is that they’d have been more unhappy if I’d carried on pretending.’
We’d come home and Lars had gone to Ulrika’s and said he’d ring the kids from China, I went on. Tessa had said she wanted to go with him, which, instead of being heartbreaking, was heart-warming.
‘Awwww,’ said Liv in the kind of voice that meant she’d lost interest completely.
There was a pause. I turned the Lux invitation over again in my hand.
‘Ami?’ asked Liv.
‘Yes?’
‘This thing in Rome you’re forcing me to go to?’
‘I’m so sorry to put you through such hardship.’
‘Isn’t there a little bit of a chance that Ben will be there?’
‘Ben who?’ I asked down the phone. I shook my head to make the thought of him go away.
‘Don’t pretend with me.’
‘I was just feeling happy and you go and make me all miserable again.’
‘Is it such a fabulous idea to go and see him right when you’re all so happy?’
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I’m fine now about all that. Ben was right. I wasn’t ready to go out with anyone else. So, I’m going to steer clear of all men and that’s him included.’
‘Yes, but wouldn’t it be much easier to steer clear of him if you didn’t get on a plane and go to Rome and be at the same dinner as him?’
‘Oh, Liv. It’ll be fine. I’m not sure he’ll come and even if he does then we’re two grown-ups who know it’s impossible to be together. So now we’ll be friends. Colleagues and friends. Anyway, it’s all a good couple of months away. Now I’d really better get back to work.’
‘You’re only making me ring off because I’m talking to you about something you don’t feel comfortable talking about.’
‘Liv?’
‘Yes?’
‘There really are some people in the world who actually have to do something in exchange for money.’
‘Big kiss to you, wage slave.’
‘And one back to you, lazy old tart.’
*
I was resolute when I rang my parents: I was going to tell them what we’d decided, and I would not allow them to make me feel guilty. I knew that what I was saying could throw Dad into one of his funks and my mother would suffer; I wanted to protect her but also knew that that wasn’t my responsibility.
Dad answered the phone rather than Mum, which was unusual and a very good sign. ‘How was the holiday?’ he asked in an upbeat voice.
‘It was good, thanks.’
‘I expect the kids thought it was marvellous,’ he carried on. ‘We loved their postcard.’ He was certainly in a much better mood than before we’d left; I hoped I wasn’t going to destroy that.
‘I need to tell you something, Dad.’ I spoke fast, without pause. ‘Lars and I have decided we are going to get divorced. We’re going to build on the progress we’ve made with the kids and he’ll be very much part of their lives, but we’re going to get divorced.’
There was a pause before Dad said, ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve made a decision.’
‘OK.’ I waited.
‘I’ve really been thinking since I last saw you, Amelia,’ he carried on. ‘You’ve been so worried, the weight of the world on your shoulders for the last few years. Lars let you down and I know he’s been trying hard again lately but I… well, your mother and I’ve been talking and we’d rather see you happy than settle for something second best.’
‘Really?’ I said, flabbergasted. ‘But you’ve always said—’
‘It was your mother,’ Dad interrupted. ‘She made me see that it’s probably the right thing, if that’s what you chose to do. That children should grow up with two happy parents if at all possible.’
It was the closest to an admission that that hadn’t been true throughout my childhood that I’d ever heard him say. It was also the closest I was going to get to an apology for that awful Sunday. I gulped back a lump in my throat – I knew how difficult it must be for this proud man to admit his failings.
I explained the practicalities of what Lars and I had decided – how he’d get a flat and get some money out of his company and how that and the Campury account would really help.
‘That sounds well thought through,’ Dad said. ‘Your mother said the kids will be fine – and it certainly sounds from what you’re telling me that that’s true,’ he continued, almost as if he’d been practising this speech. ‘We want you to be happy, darling.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, feeling the ever-present guilt at letting them down lift. ‘It means a lot to have your support.’
‘Always on your side,’ my dad humphed. ‘And I’ll pick up the lawyer’s bills, like I said. Now, you’d better speak to your mother.’
Mum and I discussed the holiday for a while before I told her; she didn’t sound surprised, but echoed what my dad had said. ‘We’ll do everything we can to help,’ she said.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, darling?’
‘What did you say to make Dad see my side?’
‘We’ve had a few chats, that’s all,’ she said. ‘After that Sunday when he was so awful, it’s taken a while to get him back to normal but he also agreed that if it happens again, he’ll go to the doctor’s.’
‘That’s amazing,’ I said, knowing how hard it must have been for her to even bring up the subject with him. ‘What made you…?’
‘What made me do something I should have done years ago?’ she said with some force and a new, very direct tone.
‘Well, yes.’
‘I think it was seeing you so unhappy and not being able to help,’ she said. ‘I wanted to come to London but instead I had to stay with your father because he refuses to believe he’s ill. I was so worried about you.’ She was still talking in an unusually frank way.
‘It was fine,’ I said. ‘I understood.’
‘But you shouldn’t have to understand!’ Mum was angry now. ‘And then when we did see you, that awful row, and we didn’t listen to your point of view… but really, I knew that if you’d wanted to go back to Lars, you’d have done it by then. We were trying to make you stay in a marriage that made you unhappy and I couldn’t force that on anyone.’
Wow. Mum had had some sort of epiphany. It was as if she’d found her old spark again and wasn’t going to let it go out.
‘And the kids were fine,’ she went on. ‘Anyone could see that. Tessa was in a better frame of mind than she had been at Christmas when you and Lars were still together.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. It meant a great deal for her to tell me we’d done a good job despite it all.
‘And plenty of kids grow up to be fine,’ Mum went on as if, now she was allowed to speak her
own mind, she wasn’t going to stop. ‘And William was ridiculous, stomping around and making all that fuss. Anyway, after you’d gone that Sunday I really lost it with him…’
So, when I’d been driving up the M4 desperately worried about her dealing with another of his moods, she’d in fact been having a big row with Dad.
‘…and told him he’d got to get his act together and support his own daughter. And that you were old enough to know what you were doing.’
‘You didn’t need to do that for me,’ I said.
‘It wasn’t just for you,’ she said in a voice that meant it was also for her own benefit. ‘I couldn’t, just couldn’t go through another few months of misery and I told him that.’
She and Dad had really had a heart-to-heart. ‘Anyway, after that we had a few more talks, and he’s finally admitted that he might have a problem and that talking to someone might help.’
My proud dad. I knew this had taken him enormous courage.
‘So, if he gets into another bad place, we’re going to go to the doctor’s,’ she said emphatically.
‘That’s so great,’ I said. ‘But he sounds OK at the moment?’
‘Funnily enough, it’s as if a switch has been flipped. He’s been writing and being his old self.’
‘So good to hear,’ I said. ‘I’m really pleased.’
Mum changed the subject. ‘Now, tell me, is there any progress at all with Liv’s love life? It really is time she at least thought about settling down.’
*
‘I wanted to say something,’ Cathy said, now we were back in her office, resurrecting the old divorce paperwork. I knew we were moving from lawyer to friends again, as she tapped the top of her clock.
I hoped she wasn’t going to tell me that she was dumping Jezza: I didn’t want to be responsible for raising the divorce rate for retiring couples in Bromley. Instead she said, ‘I wanted to tell you that I think you’re an inspiration.’
‘What? I thought divorces like mine were boring.’
Cathy had the grace to colour slightly. ‘Ha, ha, no, no. But you walked through the door and I thought, Poor dear. And you were so hurt. And now look at you a few months later: you’ve been the one making the decisions about what you want.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’ I didn’t know if it was a speech she rolled out to all her clients, but I figured I’d take the compliment. ‘And for all the help you’ve given me – for making sure I got it all right.’
Cathy came round the desk and hugged me to her ample proportions: ‘Type D’s can be satisfying after all. Now, shall we have a snifter?’
*
Here we were then, the kids and me: a new kind of fam. Lars and I agreed he’d come round to put the kids to bed a couple of times a week and would have them every other weekend and every Wednesday night to start with. We also agreed that we would do everything we could to stick to that routine and, if we changed it, we’d sit down and talk to the children.
He rented a flat with an extra bedroom down the road in Crouch Hill and they excitedly helped him buy a new TV and a sofa over their first weekend there; he took his books, his clothes and some pictures from our house, but said he was completely capable of a trip to IKEA to equip the rest of the place. I had a look round the first time I dropped off Tess and Finn and it was like the flats we’d had in the early years – makeshift and empty with nothing really coordinating; we both laughed about that without the conversation turning too sad.
We also documented some rules for the future with Sasha – these included the childcare arrangements and an agreement about introducing any new partners we might have to the kids.
That was a difficult conversation: despite how I’d felt – still felt – about Ben, it hurt to think of Lars looking at someone else in the same way he’d once looked at me. But much more than that, even the idea of another woman in my children’s lives made me want to stand up and shout, ‘Get away from my babies.’
‘I haven’t really thought about other women,’ Lars said. This was a little dig at my one-night shack-up with what he called through his teeth ‘that other man’; but it was also a lie. He was human and even if he hadn’t jumped into bed with anyone so far, he would have thought about it and would want to. But it was no longer anything to do with me unless it affected the children, so I just raised one eyebrow at him and tried to be businesslike.
‘I wouldn’t feel comfortable with anyone who tried to be too motherly with them.’
‘Of course not. They’ve only got one mum. I feel the same: any man needs to be kind and loving to my children, but I don’t want anyone trying to take over my role,’ Lars said.
We agreed some wording and Sasha wrote it down.
‘Six months’ relationship before either of us introduces the kids to anyone else?’ I asked. ‘So we know it’s serious?’ I didn’t want a procession of women coming in and out of their lives.
Lars nodded. ‘Sounds fair. But we should also agree that before the children meet someone who is more than a friend, we let the other person know and potentially meet up first.’
Sasha nodded approvingly and wrote that down. ‘I’m so glad you two are getting somewhere,’ she said as we left.
It was as if all the reasons for being angry and hurt had gone, leaving an understanding that we’d had some very special years, but they were over. I was heading for a new future; for the first time it felt exciting rather than terrifying.
*
The weeks sped by. Tess and Finn settled into the routine. They went up a year at school and, Paul Carter assured me, ‘were getting on quite nicely, Amelia’. They went to clubs – football, street dance, swimming.
Parminder was almost militant in her support. She arranged that she and I would spend time with the children ‘doing normal things – like gossiping and drinking wine while the kids play. It’s good for their health and ours.’
Julia was the only surprise. She popped round one Saturday morning and kept suggesting the children went out into the garden; it was clear she wanted a private chat.
When they’d gone she sat down at the table and grasped her coffee. ‘So, all good with you and Lars now, then?’
I filled her in on our new arrangements. ‘The divorce will come through in six weeks or so, I hope.’
‘I’m not sure if congratulations is the right thing to say,’ Julia said, ‘but it does sound like you’ve done really well. I wanted to ask you something, now that it’s all settled.’ She looked uncharacteristically uncomfortable.
‘Oh?’
‘You know how hard it is to meet single men who like children…’
‘Well, from what you’ve told me, yes.’ I laughed. She was going to ask me to go and hang around in bars in the City with her and pick up blokes; I’d have to tell her that wasn’t my scene.
But instead she said, ‘And Lars being free, now…’ I tried not to gasp as she carried on: ‘And I wondered whether you’d mind if I… well, I asked Lars out.’
Good God. It must be really hard to find a child-friendly man if the moment a local dad became single he became a target.
‘I, I… well, of course, it’s completely up to him,’ I spluttered eventually. I tried to imagine Lars’ reaction: Julia was certainly ambitious, tall, blonde and attractive but he’d never seemed to like her above anyone else.
Julia had the grace to colour. ‘But I wouldn’t do it if you minded…’ she said.
‘I just think it might be a bit weird for the kids? What with being so close and in the same class?’ I said, still horrified.
‘Yes, I thought about that, but, of course, there’s no assumption we’d actually get on or he’d say yes in the first place and they wouldn’t know about it to start with and…’ My outrage was subsiding and I felt sorry for her instead. I hadn’t known how desperate she was for a new relationship.
However, I did need to put the kids first. I decided to be assertive. ‘Julia, it’s good of you to ask me, but, really… wel
l, my view is that you should probably wait for a while. As you know, Tess in particular has had a rough time coming to terms with our situation and she’s still quite fragile…’
‘Of course, of course.’ She looked really embarrassed. ‘I should have thought and—’
‘It’s fine,’ I said, trying to move the conversation on. ‘Now, did I tell you about how Parminder says Nadine is going to start a playground campaign for everyone to grow their pubic hair in protest against the patriarchy?’
We laughed as we returned to familiar ground, but I knew our friendship would probably never be the same again.
Ulrika reacted as I knew she would, with stoic calm. ‘That was what was right then, and this is what’s right now,’ she said over a cup of camomile tea.
I sat shivering on her sofa wondering if it would be rude to put my coat back on. ‘Please promise me you’ll always be my mother-in-law,’ I begged.
‘Ha! We need new terms for the way relationships are changing today,’ she marvelled. ‘I will always be your extra mother.’
And Ben. Ben was back in Milan and, now that the campaign was in full swing and delivering sales, I heard from him less. When we did speak – at the start of a review call, for example – he would ask me how I was and I would say ‘Fine,’ knowing that colleagues could hear, but listened to every enunciation of every syllable he said to see if I could find any hidden meaning in it.
There was a day when he seemed to put some extra endearment into: ‘How are you, Ami Fitch?’ but I knew I could’ve imagined it.
I dreamt of him often, waking feeling as if I could taste his kisses, smell him and feel his big arms wrapped around me. Several times during that end of summer and into autumn I picked up my phone and nearly pressed his name but managed to stop myself – it was the thought of the kids, his and mine, and how they would always come first.
*
Liv was trying very hard not to fall in love with Peter. One Saturday, as the weekend in Rome approached, we met at the Suicide Café. I’d been to the hairdresser’s and was enjoying the smooth swish of newly chocolate curls around my shoulders, while Liv tried to get the melancholy waiter to bring us some wine.