‘Have you ever separated?’
‘Almost. For a long time I wondered if we were really right for each other. There was a year when we seemed to just argue all the time, but we made the choice to stay together. I definitely don’t subscribe to the thought that there’s only one person in the world for someone. I think it’s more that you choose whoever is the right person at the time, and then you try to grow together. You either do, or you don’t.’
Effie slowly buttered her toast. If Izzy was right, then her conflicting feelings for Smith might make sense, but on the flipside, it could also mean that her doubts about Oliver were because she’d made the wrong choice in marrying him to begin with. She loaded her toast with beans and took a bite. The beans had been cooked rather than just heated up, and the tomato sauce was sweet and thick on her tongue.
‘Every couple argues, I guess,’ Effie said, ‘but you and Tom seem to have it figured out for the most part.’
‘We do now, but it took a while to get there.’ Izzy put her fork down. ‘I know what people think when they see Tom. He’s a little podgy around the edges, and he’s so absorbed in his work, he barely notices anything else, but what they don’t see is how dedicated he is. Give him a stable centre to come from, and he radiates it back. I’ve dated guys before who wouldn’t know stability if it hit them in the face. It’s a roller-coaster ride, for sure, but roller coasters have to come to a grinding halt at some point.’
Effie nodded. What could she say to that? For a second, she’d almost forgotten it was her sister-in-law she was talking to, but she couldn’t very well say that she understood the thrill of being with a guy who had the ability to turn the world upside down, someone who made stability look about as normal as a green sky.
‘For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing, taking Olly back,’ Izzy continued, ‘and I’m not just saying that because he’s my brother. If you can’t work through the bad stuff, then what’s the point? You just have to ask yourself if you love Olly. Really love him. Strip away everything you associate with him – his job, his family, his social status – everything. If you love him for who he is, the raw essence of him, then you’ll be fine.’
Effie frowned as Izzy tucked into her bubble and squeak. She’d never thought about loving the raw essence of someone. She wasn’t even entirely sure what it meant. She knew she loved Oliver; otherwise, she’d never have married him, but she’d never really stopped to try to break it down to such a detailed level before.
‘Are you happy, though?’ Effie asked.
Izzy nodded and waited to swallow her food before answering, ‘Definitely. Sometimes you have to adjust what your expectations of happiness are, that’s all.’
Adjust her expectations of happiness? Why did that sound like such a massive compromise?
‘And right now, bubble and squeak is the very definition of happiness.’
26.
Essence: The intrinsic nature or indispensable quality of something which determines its character. Origin: from Latin, essential, from esse, ‘to be’.
Effie turned the definition she’d read online over and over in her head as she walked up the road to Smith’s parents’ house. Since she’d met Izzy for dinner, she’d thought of little else. It was like she’d given her a Rubik’s cube containing the secret to the meaning of life, and just like the infamous game, it was frustrating the hell out of her. It was making her question why she loved Oliver.
Whenever she’d thought about it before, any number of reasons had come to mind. He was good looking, charming, well brought up, wealthy, secure and successful. He’d represented everything she wasn’t and everything she’d thought she wanted, but little by little, the veneer had started to slip, and now she didn’t know how much of what she thought she knew was real and how much was what she’d wanted to see.
The charm that had made her dizzy at the beginning was the same charm he’d shown when he’d talked her round to giving him one more chance. She didn’t doubt his sincerity, but it was much easier to swallow when he knew how to pull at her heartstrings. He might have been well brought up, but he still hadn’t been sheltered from the fallout of family drama – a fallout that had triggered deep-seated issues. There was no doubt that he was successful – he was one of the most sought after barristers in London. But he wasn’t wealthy; his family was. The material security the Barton-Cole name had given her had meant nothing when it came down to it. It hadn’t protected her from him. The more she’d tried to think about whether she loved Oliver’s essence, the more she questioned if she even knew what it was.
A drop of rain hit her bare shoulder, and she frowned, looking up at the sky. The morning clouds had lingered through to the afternoon, and they were looking greyer by the minute. Smith’s flat only had a small balcony, so he was having his birthday barbecue at his parents’ house instead. Their garden was beautiful and mature after years of nurturing, and Effie felt a stir in the depths of her stomach. She’d stayed there countless times at the end of nights out with Smith, sharing a bed and longing for him to make a move, until the night he finally did. She looked at the house a few doors up the street. When would this ever end? Why did her mind always revert to Smith when she should be thinking about her husband and their fragile future together instead?
The front door was open, and as she walked up the tiny path, she dug her nails into her palms to steel herself against the stir that was turning into butterflies with every step she took. To say she wasn’t looking forward to this party was an understatement. Despite being jealous of Smith, Oliver had merely nodded when she told him she was going, and although she knew it couldn’t have been easy for him, she was pleased he was sticking to his word about not questioning her time with her friends. Still, there was a huge part of her that didn’t want to go. Not only was she about to surround herself with people who despised Oliver, but she also had to do it while questioning herself about why she was with him in the first place. As soon as she walked through the door, she saw Smith’s mum, Yvette, coming down the stairs, with her hair in rollers.
‘There she is,’ Yvette said, holding her arms out to give Effie a hug. ‘How are you? It’s been a long time.’
‘It has,’ Effie replied, folding herself into Yvette’s arms. Her hugs were legendary, and she’d always welcomed Effie with open arms when she used to visit. ‘I’m good, thanks. How are you?’
‘Good. Great, in fact.’ Yvette linked her arm through Effie’s and led her through to the kitchen. ‘It’s been so lovely having James back, and we all know how much of a turnaround that is.’
She winked and Effie grinned. It was Yvette who’d told Smith in no uncertain terms that he had to leave when everything had gone wrong. He’d been laid up in his hospital bed, and she hadn’t given him a choice. Effie had sunk low into the hard, plastic chair, trying to make herself invisible. It had turned out to be the best thing Yvette could’ve done if the way he’d been since his return was anything to go by. Effie couldn’t imagine what it must’ve taken for her to say those words to her son, but Yvette was clearly savvy enough to know that he had to either disappear or die.
Effie watched her friends through the kitchen window as they sat in the garden chatting. Mickey and Smith manned the barbecue, and she looked at Smith as he flipped a burger over, laughing at something Mickey had said. There was no sign of Lou, but it was hardly surprising. She was always late for everything.
‘We had to put the gazebo up. I’ve no idea why James insisted on a barbecue when the forecast predicted rain.’ Yvette tutted.
Effie laughed. ‘You know him. He never takes the easy route.’
‘God only knows where he got that from.’ The grin on Yvette’s face told Effie that it was no secret that he’d got it from her. ‘And how are you, my lovely? James tells me you got married?’
‘Yep. Seven months now.’ Effie nodded.
‘Congra
tulations. I’m so pleased for you.’
She did seem genuinely happy, judging by her smile, but she’d always said what a good couple Effie and Smith had made. Of course, she hadn’t seen the crushing heartache Effie had felt when she’d heard that he’d hooked up with someone else, and as far as Yvette knew, their relationship had been a normal one – boyfriend and girlfriend, not girlfriend and non-committal man.
‘Where’s Dermot?’ Effie asked, looking out to the garden again for Smith’s dad.
‘Supermarket. I think it’s fair to say James vastly underestimated the amount of food you generally need for a barbecue, especially with the amount of alcohol he’s bought.’ Yvette shook her head. ‘Right, you go and have fun, and I’m sure I’ll see you later when we get back.’
‘You’re not staying?’
‘Oh, heavens no. We wouldn’t want to cramp James’s style. I’m off to take these rollers out and get beautified. We’re meeting up with friends for dinner, so we’ll leave you young ones to it.’ She kissed Effie on the cheek. ‘Have a lovely time.’
Effie stayed in the kitchen when Yvette went back upstairs, and looked out of the window again. They were her best friends, but she felt like turning around and slipping out unnoticed. She turned and looked at the fridge, covered with letters and memos stuck to the door with magnets. On the wall next to it was a cork noticeboard covered with photos. She smiled at a strip of pictures taken of Yvette and Dermot in a photo booth, the pleated burnt-orange curtain bright against them in the background. The first photo showed them grinning into the camera, the second showed them kissing and the third showed them laughing. They looked young, no older than their early twenties. Sean, Smith’s older brother, was thirty, and Smith had told her they’d got married before he was born.
Thirty-odd years. That was a long time to be with someone, and when Effie had said her vows, she’d promised to be with Oliver for life, but now? She was sure Izzy had intended to help, but instead, all she’d done was inadvertently burrow the seed of doubt even deeper into Effie’s mind.
She looked at a photo of Smith, sitting in a high chair with chocolate smeared around his mouth. Even as a toddler, he’d had a mass of brown curls, and his grey eyes looked bigger than ever. Next to his photo was one of Brendan, the middle son who’d died two years before Smith had been born.
‘It’ll be twenty-seven years this September.’
Effie turned at the sound of Smith’s voice. ‘Brendan?’
Smith nodded, and she turned back to look at the photo of his brother, sleeping in his incubator. It was grainy and faded at the edges with age. He’d been born prematurely, with a heart defect.
‘I try to imagine what he’d be like,’ Smith said. ‘I reckon he’d have been super cool. Middle kids always are, aren’t they?’
He stood with his head right next to hers, and she turned a little to look at him as he studied the photo. A light coating of stubble coated his jaw. He smelled of charcoal and summertime, and Effie wanted to sink into him and soak it in. Instead, she looked back at the photo.
‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘He probably would have been.’
‘So.’ He looked down at her and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. ‘How’s things?’
Effie nodded and looked back at him. ‘They’re good. One step at a time, you know?’
He nodded back, but his face told a different story. It displayed the very reason why she’d been nervous about today. The look in his eyes made it clear he thought she’d made a mistake in taking Oliver back, and that was without him knowing the real reason they’d separated in the first place.
‘Oh, of course. Happy birthday.’ Effie smiled as she handed him the small bag.
‘Cheers.’ He took the book from the bag. ‘Aw, Eff, I’ve got this already.’
‘I know – I remember. Look inside.’
He opened it, and the awkward, apologetic look on his face gave way to a grin. ‘No way. A signed copy?’
He ran his fingers over the page and shook his head. Into the Wild was his favourite book, and the copy he had was tattered with age.
‘Man, that’s . . .’ He looked back at her and shook his head again. ‘It’s probably the best present I’ve ever had.’
Effie grinned and shrugged. ‘It’s nothing.’
But it was something. She’d wanted to get him something personal, something that would somehow convey her gratitude for what he’d done while she was separated from Oliver. It was Smith who had looked after her when she’d fainted, cooked her dinner and made her feel safe enough to stay in the house on her own. She owed him, and she wanted to pay him back. He hugged her, his strong arms around her neck, and she inhaled his summertime scent. She also hoped the gift was a token of an apology. Nothing had actually happened between them, but she couldn’t deny that they’d got closer in those few weeks. She couldn’t shake the sense that he felt let down now that she’d taken Oliver back.
Smith rested his chin on the top of her head and squeezed her. ‘Thank you.’
Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Every so often, the garden would be transformed from a sunny little haven to a chamber of mental torture. When the sun was out, everyone would spread themselves across the garden, but as soon as the clouds merged and dumped the rain down, they’d huddle together under the gazebo. With the rest of Smith’s friends, there was nowhere near enough room for them all, and she could almost feel the air under the gazebo crackling with tension whenever Lou and Mickey looked at each other. Being clumped together must have been as unbearable for the both of them as it was for everyone else.
As heavy pellets of rain lashed the gazebo and bounced up from the grass, Effie looked at her friends. Mickey stood by the barbecue, right at the edge of the shelter provided by the white structure above them. He kept his eyes down, fixed to the ground, with his eyebrows furrowed together and his clenching jaw working overtime. Lou stood on the other side of the barbecue, trying, and clearly failing, not to look at Mickey. For every glance she directed elsewhere, two seemed to focus in on him. She had such a look of concentration on her face that Effie could only imagine that Lou was trying to telepathically send him signals to look back at her. He didn’t.
Effie looked up at Smith standing next to her, nursing a can of Red Stripe. ‘Great day for a barbecue.’
‘I know.’ Smith grimaced, took a sip of beer and then shrugged. ‘It is England, though. A barbecue isn’t a barbecue without the threat of rain. It’s tradition.’
‘Little bit more than a threat.’
So far, it had only showered, and after a couple of minutes, the sun had come out, dried the grass enough for them to sit on blankets and they’d got straight back to the party. This time, it looked like the sun had disappeared, never to return again. Lou sighed heavily, and Effie turned to look at her.
‘Shall we go inside?’ Effie asked. ‘I’m getting a bit cold. You guys can stay out here and talk about boy stuff.’
‘That’s a bit sexist,’ Smith said. ‘What do you even define as boy stuff?’
Effie shrugged. ‘I dunno. Football, Top Gear, beer.’
‘So stereotypical. If you must know, I’ve been wanting to talk about the resurgence of feminism. I read a really interesting article about it recently. It was a theory that feminism was actually a concept invented by a guy to control women. Fascinating.’
‘Smart-arse,’ she replied and flicked Smith’s arm, grinning as she tried to hide her guilt at getting back with Oliver. His ability to bounce back to her playful banter was one of the things she adored about him the most.
‘What was that saying again? Don’t judge a book by its cover – that was it.’ Smith grinned back.
‘Does it still count if you’ve known the book long enough to know the words by heart?’ Effie raised an eyebrow. ‘Stop being a smart alec. We’ll come back out when the
rain stops.’
‘So basically, never,’ Mickey said, looking up and once again locking eyes with Lou. Effie looked at the two of them, both clearly wanting to say something to each other and both hanging back.
‘Come on.’ Effie took charge and hurried through the garden and into the house, holding the back door open for Lou to follow her. Once they were inside, she grabbed a piece of kitchen paper and dabbed away the rain on her arms.
‘Thanks,’ Lou said with a sad smile. ‘I don’t think I could’ve stayed under there for much longer.’
‘I thought you’d agreed to talk?’
‘We had,’ Lou replied, looking at her. ‘He texted a few days ago to say that we should. I just don’t know what to say to him. I don’t know how to.’
‘Maybe getting away from everyone else is a good way to start?’ Effie suggested. ‘You can’t talk while you’re surrounded by all of us.’
Lou turned and leaned against the sink, looking at Mickey through the window. ‘What if he says no?’
‘He won’t.’ Effie followed the direction of Lou’s gaze. He looked every bit as miserable as Lou did. ‘He said he wanted to talk, so you should talk. You’ve spent a year and a half together. Short of Smith, you know him better than anyone else here.’
‘Oh, god. I feel sick.’ Lou looked out of the window again at Mickey. ‘I’ll send him a text. Do you think we can use Smith’s old room?’
‘Don’t see why not.’
‘Okay,’ Lou said and looked up at her once she’d sent the text. ‘Sent.’
Effie looked past Lou into the garden, watching Mickey as he took his phone from his pocket. ‘He’s reading it.’
‘Oh, crap. Okay. I’ll go up. How do I look?’
‘Like you’ve been caught in the rain and you’re shit-scared about facing the man you love.’
Lou nodded. ‘All of which are true.’
Love You Better Page 24