Conditional Love

by Cathy Bramley

  I sniggered. His eyes, normally so serious behind his glasses, sparkled as he started to chuckle. That set my giggling off. Soon my shoulders were shaking again, only this time it wasn’t with tears; I was laughing, loud, howling, unrestrained laughter.

  We both laughed until we were out of breath. My ribs were aching, but I couldn’t stop. Every time I got my breathing back under control, we could catch sight of each other and off we would go again. I hadn’t laughed so much in ages.

  Eventually Nick wiped the tears from his eyes, fastened Norman’s lead back on and gave me a regretful smile.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said and then leaning forward placed a gentle whisper of a kiss on my cheek. ‘Happy birthday. It has been a delight as always.’

  My hand flew to my blushing face and I watched my architect and his dog stride away.

  As I hobbled to the entrance of the park to hail a taxi, it struck me that, so far, today had been the weirdest birthday of my life.

  twenty-three

  The Italian restaurant I had chosen for my birthday celebrations was very popular; it was buzzing with diners despite, or perhaps because of, the cheesy décor. A mural of the leaning tower of Pisa covered the alcove behind us, dribbling candles stuffed into Chianti bottles decorated the tables and the rumbling tones of Italian opera were just audible above the clinking and scraping of cutlery.

  I say ‘chosen’, but ‘compromised on’ would be more accurate. My preference, the Taj Mahal, had been vetoed by Emma on the grounds of heartburn and by Jess who was going straight to Spike’s after dinner and didn’t want to breathe garlic on him.

  So far though, I was delighted with my compromise. As soon as the waiter clocked the pile of gift bags and cards in front of me, he arrived brandishing a bottle of Prosecco and popped the cork with a flourish.

  ‘Cheers!’ I held my glass up and took a calming swig.

  Aaand relax.

  I felt like I was arriving at ground level after riding the world’s tallest elevator.

  ‘Ah, cheers, babes, happy birthday.’ Jess clinked her glass enthusiastically against mine. She was displaying so much cleavage that I was surprised she hadn’t lost her menu down it. She looked like a roman goddess, and completely blended in with our Italian backdrop. Her voluptuous appearance wasn’t lost on other people either. Several of the male diners kept glancing our way and our waiter was gratifyingly attentive.

  ‘Yeah, happy thirty-third birthday! Down the hatch!’ Emma raised her glass and chucked half of its contents down her throat. She was letting her hair down in both senses of the word tonight, and a pre-Raphaelite cloud of red hair fell across her t-shirt as she reached to top all our glasses up.

  I felt quite boring in my navy and white dress. The tortuous journey back to the flat on two buses had taken over an hour and I hadn’t had the time or energy to change anything other than my shoes. My feet were now comfortably ensconced in a pair of flip-flops. It had been that or trainers; I had blisters on my blisters.

  I winced. ‘Don’t remind me! I’m so old!’ And Nick Cromwell agreed, I thought, remembering his look of sympathy.

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Jess firmly, closing her menu and casting her eye round for our waiter. ‘Women are happiest at thirty-three. Read it the other day on Friends Reunited. Apparently, we’re confident, we’ve lost all our insecurities and know exactly where we’re going in life.’

  ‘It’s all downhill from here then.’ Emma looked up from her menu and arched an eyebrow at her sister.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ Jess took a dainty sip and smiled serenely. ‘My life is getting better and better. I’ve got my promotion to deputy head next term. Can’t wait. And then there’s Spike.’ Her eyes glazed over. ‘I honestly think we were made for each other.’

  ‘Blurghhhh.’ Emma grabbed one of my gift bags and pretended to vomit in it.

  I grinned at the two sisters as they exchanged light-hearted insults. It was hard not to feel jealous of Jess sometimes; she did seem to have got her life on track. I just wished she wasn’t so vocal about it.

  ‘Perhaps I’m a late bloomer,’ I muttered mournfully.

  My own insecurities had increased tenfold today; I didn’t feel confident about anything anymore. And what was happiness exactly? Was I happy? I certainly shouldn’t be unhappy: I had a job, good friends, my health, enough money. I had plenty to be grateful about.

  Yes, of course I was happy. Anyway happiness didn’t mean spending all day laughing hysterically. A smile crept its way across my lips as I recalled laughing until my sides ached with Nick earlier. That had been the strangest thing ever. I had seen a different side of his personality today, a side which I could relate to a lot more than his usual buttoned-up self. And what about that birthday kiss? My hand touched my cheek: most peculiar.

  ‘Well?’ said Emma. She and Jess were beaming at me tentatively, clearly misinterpreting my smile. ‘Are you going to tell us what happened?’

  They had been badgering me to spill the beans on how the father–daughter reunion had gone, ever since I arrived home. So far I’d fobbed them off, saying I needed alcohol before I could talk about it. The truth was that it was so overwhelming that I didn’t know where to begin.

  The waiter returned to take our order and Emma rolled her eyes impatiently.

  ‘The sole for me please,’ I said and handed the menu back.

  ‘White fish?’ hissed Emma. She leaned towards me and grabbed my arm. I answered her with a questioning look. ‘That was on Extreme A&E on TV last week. You could have an anaphylactic shock. You don’t want that on your birthday!’

  The waiter’s confused eyes darted from mine to Emma’s and back again.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I reassured him.

  ‘Lasagne and garlic bread, please,’ said Jess, ‘but go easy on the garlic.’

  The waiter’s pencil hovered uncertainly over his pad, but he dutifully made a note.

  ‘Is the chicken free-range?’ asked Emma, narrowing her eyes.

  ‘Yes!’ The waiter nodded vigorously.

  ‘Hmm.’ Emma chewed her lip for a good thirty seconds. ‘Marguerita pizza.’ She snapped the menu decisively and handed it back without looking at him. ‘Now, we want details.’

  ‘Oh, but can’t I open my presents first?’ I fluttered my eyelashes. ‘Pretty please.’

  ‘Of course,’ cried Jess, leaning forward to organise the unwrapping ceremony. ‘This one first,’ she said, handing me an envelope with a Spanish stamp on it.

  A bullet of guilt ricocheted through me. If only Mum knew what I’d been up to today, she wouldn’t have sent me anything. Inside the card was a voucher for a massage at the beauty salon in the hotel near her apartment. If that wasn’t a direct order to book my flights, I didn’t know what was.

  ‘This one next,’ said Emma. She passed over a pink gift bag. ‘It’s from both of us,’ added Jess, wriggling with excitement.

  As well as two envelopes, the bag contained some tissue-wrapped Clinique moisturiser and body lotion.

  ‘My favourites!’ I gasped, squirting a dot of cream onto the back of my hands.

  ‘Come on, the envelopes!’ said Emma, tipping the bag upside down.

  The first contained a year’s subscription to Elle Decoration. I reached across and hugged them. That had always been my favourite magazine. I’d treated myself to a copy recently to do the house brief for Nick and had fallen in love with it all over again. I was touched that they had remembered.

  ‘I can’t wait!’ squealed Jess as I picked up the second envelope. Emma beamed at me in anticipation.

  I frowned as I read the enclosed letter, trying to make out what it was.

  ‘It’s a taster day at the London College of Interior design,’ said Jess breathlessly.

  ‘We want to bring back the Sophie who had her head full of designs and schemes, colours and swatches,’ said Emma, jabbing me in the ribs with a breadstick. ‘And when you were doing that work on the bungalow, we could see how happy it made
you.’

  ‘It’s only a day,’ said Jess. ‘But who knows, you might get the bug and take it up again.’

  This had to be the kindest, most thoughtful present that I had ever had. My eyes filled up with tears and I transferred them first to Jess’s face and then to Emma’s as I hugged them both.

  ‘I love it,’ I managed in a croaky voice. ‘And I love you both too.’

  Even though they hadn’t always approved of my decisions over the past few months, they were still here, my two best friends, giving me exactly what they thought I would like for my birthday. Their intentions were the very best, but what had been a possibility when I was twenty was now nothing more than a futile dream. Twelve years ago, a gift like this would have been my idea of heaven. Now it would be more like a day in hell, taunting me with what might have been, if only things had worked out differently.

  ‘Get a grip,’ said Emma, waving the last parcel in front of my face. ‘Let’s see what Marc got you.’

  I took the hastily-wrapped, rectangular parcel from her and placed it in front of me. I was so thrilled that he’d remembered my birthday. Shame that he was already busy this evening, but at least he’d made the effort to pop in and leave a present with Jess.

  The box was fairly light and smaller than a shoe box, but too big to be jewellery. I shook it. It didn’t make a sound.

  ‘Careful!’ cried Jess. ‘It could be fragile.’

  Emma huffed impatiently. ‘Come on, the food will be here in a minute and I want to hear about what happened with your dad.’

  There was a card Sellotaped to it. I opened it and read the message aloud.

  Happy birthday Princess, I know how busy you are at work, so thought this might be useful. Love Marc xoxo

  ‘A BlackBerry!’ said Jess, pressing a hand to her chest. Her boobs made a bid for freedom from the top of her dress and miraculously a waiter appeared to top up our glasses.

  Emma instantly fluffed up her hair and held up her glass for a refill. The waiter finally dragged his eyes away from Jess’s frontage and obliged her. ‘And the rest,’ she barked at the poor man as he paused to allow the bubbles to subside. ‘No half measures.’

  Jess tutted at her sister. ‘You’ve got to work on your allure,’ she explained. ‘That’s why men can’t resist me.’ She fiddled with her bra strap and the waiter winked at her. Emma growled unalluringly.

  I tore off the paper to reveal the gift that the man in my life – I hesitate to use the word boyfriend – had decided was the perfect present for me. I dropped the box back onto the table in horror. Jess gasped. Emma swore. The waiter set the bottle down in the ice cooler and scurried away. Did he just snort?

  ‘I’m sorry, babes.’ Jess bit her bottom lip and patted my arm.

  ‘Tosser,’ said Emma.

  I picked up the Slendertone Abdominal Toner and tried to decide how I felt about my gift.

  I was unfit. Marc was super fit. It made sense that he would want any girlfriend of his to share his passion. There was no denying it though, this was a definite call to action.

  ‘Results in eight weeks, it says here,’ I read off the box.

  ‘What – and then he’ll go back out with you?’ Emma looked ready to punch someone. I hoped the chef didn’t mess up her pizza or there would be trouble.

  ‘I have to say, my Spike loves me for the way I am. He wouldn’t dream of criticising my figure,’ said Jess, unable to keep the irritating adoration out of her voice.

  Emma’s fierce huff extinguished the candle flame. ‘There is nothing wrong with Sophie’s stomach. Marc is totally out of order. End of.’ She folded her arms and glared at me.

  ‘It’s the thought that counts,’ I answered feebly. ‘He’s just thinking of my health. Quite sweet really.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ said Emma. ‘He just doesn’t want to be seen with a fat blimp on his arm. Not that you are,’ she added hurriedly. ‘This is about him. As usual.’

  ‘Spike says he loves my womanly curves. He says if I was thinner there wouldn’t be so much to kiss, to caress and run his tongue –’

  ‘I’ve got you this as well.’ Emma reached into her jeans pocket and dropped a silver chain into my hand. She flicked a snide glance over at her sister. That had certainly shut her up. Jess blinked furiously, her mouth gaping like a goldfish.

  I looked at the necklace. On it was a locket in the shape of a house. I prised it open to find a tiny gold heart suspended inside it. It was the most exquisite thing I had ever seen.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I breathed. Emma’s eyes looked suspiciously moist. I threw my arms around her and kissed her. She helped me fasten the clasp.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ Jess pouted. ‘Joint presents, we agreed. Now you’ve given her more than I have.’

  ‘I love all my presents. You’ve both been so generous!’ I patted both of their hands, praying they wouldn’t start bickering.

  ‘Hey, it didn’t cost me anything. I just thought she’d like it.’

  ‘It’s not fair, you're a silversmith, you can make her something. It’s not as if I can give her a lesson, is it?’

  ‘Whaddyamean? You give us free lessons in how to be an alluring, smug cow with a perfect life every day!’

  And they were off.

  The waiter crept up and slipped our plates in front of us without them even registering the food. I picked up my knife and fork and concentrated on de-boning my fish.

  It was no good. I couldn’t enjoy my dinner with the two of them firing insults across the table at each other. I crashed my cutlery down onto my plate and caused a temporary ceasefire. And then I dropped my own bombshell.

  ‘I’ve got a brother.’

  That shut them up. They couldn’t have looked more shocked if Pudsey the dancing dog had leapt onto the table and performed his James Bond routine.

  I took advantage of their silence to fill them in on the bones of my encounter with Terry Stone.

  ‘Did he explain why he’s never been in touch?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Was he nice? Does he look like you?’ Jess shovelled a large slice of garlic bread into her mouth, evidently not bothered about its effect on Spike anymore.

  ‘Does he regret his behaviour, did he weep with guilt?’

  I picked at my sole before answering. ‘I don’t think he regrets a thing.’ I shrugged and smiled ruefully. ‘I think he was fulfilling his end of the bargain. Same as me. I won’t be seeing him again.’

  Emma nearly choked on her pizza. ‘But your brother? You’ve got to meet him.’

  ‘No point.’ I looked down at my plate. I’d hardly touched my food, but I wasn’t hungry anymore.

  Jess took hold of her sister’s hand. ‘But babes, having a sibling is the most special bond in the world.’

  Emma nodded sincerely. ‘It’s true. We share the same blood. No friendship can ever compare to the ties you have to your own family.’

  That coming from a woman who had just tipped a bowl of parmesan cheese down her sister’s front. If I wasn’t so het up, I’d find their U-turn hilarious.

  ‘I don’t get it,’ declared Emma. ‘Why is it you’re prepared to give Mr Muscle the benefit of the doubt, but your father, your own flesh and blood, who’s flown thousands of miles to see you, gets the cold shoulder?’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ I replied. Jess reached out and wiped my cheek. I hadn’t realised I was crying. ‘My father isn’t interested in me. He wasn’t even convinced I was his daughter at first! We have absolutely nothing in common. Let’s face it, if he’d wanted to get to know me, he could have easily tracked me down before now. After all, we’ve still got the same surname. I think it’s for the best. Honestly.’

  They squeezed my hands, dried my tears and ordered another bottle. Emma topped up my glass and Jess took the Slendertone box off the table.

  ‘I’ve come to another major decision too. I’m going to tell Mum the truth about meeting him. I’ll feel better if I come clean.’ I took a deep breath and smiled. I wasn
’t going to let my father ruin my birthday night out.

  Emma peered at me anxiously. I smiled and took a sip of Prosecco. ‘Anyway, changing the subject –’

  ‘Whoah!’ cried Jess as her upper body started to jiggle like a blancmange. ‘Oh my God! Get it off me! Help!’

  ‘What the hell’s the matter with you,’ hissed Emma as, not for the first time, Jess’s boobs took centre stage.

  She gesticulated wildly towards her lower half. ‘The Slendertone. It’s on max.’

  The whole restaurant joined us in uproarious laughter as Emma wrestled with her sister’s midriff.

  I raised my glass again. ‘To being thirty-three, the happiest year of my life!’

  twenty-four

  Marc ended the call on his mobile, winked at me and went back to his whisking. I quivered with excitement. It was official: Marc and I were back together. I knew this because I’d just heard him on the phone, telling one of his friends that he was staying over at his girlfriend’s tonight. And he was here, in my kitchen, with me!

  The grin on my face was as wide as it could be without cracking the skin. I was happy, happy, happy.

  It was going to be different this time. I was different. I knew he was the one for me, all I had to do was maintain my new all-action action plan and he would soon cotton on to the fact that I was the one for him.

  The old action plan had stalled a bit this last week as I was struggling to move on from my first and only meeting with my father. I was so grateful that Marc was here tonight; I really needed company at the moment. As soon as I was left on my own for more than five minutes, anger would return and I would start to rant and shout about the nerve of the man, the injustice of his two-faced family attitude.

  Then frustration would rear its ugly head, yelling at me that I should have said more, demanded answers from him, told him exactly what I thought of his irresponsible behaviour. Revenge would follow, roaring at me that I should have told Terry Stone how glad I was that he’d done a runner, that he’d done us a favour. And while I realised that this behaviour wasn’t helpful and my face looked pretty ugly as these thoughts were speeding through my mind, I appeared to be powerless to get over it.