by Fiore, Rosie
Jo finished cleaning up the mess in silence, then she went to sit beside Zach on the bottom step. Lee could hear the murmur of her voice as she spoke soothingly to him. Then she went upstairs and got ready for work, and left without saying goodbye to Lee.
He had a lot of time to think that day. For Jo to have hurled a bowl of porridge, especially in front of the kids, she had to be stretched to the limit. He’d let her down and he needed to find a way to make it better. He spent the afternoon giving the house a good clean, prepared a roast-chicken dinner and walked down to the flower stall on the high street with the kids. Together, they assembled a giant arrangement. Lee chose white roses that reminded him of the flowers in Jo’s wedding bouquet. Zach loved the bright orange gerberas, and Imi was drawn to the pink peonies. It was an unusual combination, but he thought it expressed their love. They took the bouquet home and Lee arranged the flowers in a vase and put it on the table, where Jo would see it as soon as she walked in.
As the clock crept around to five thirty, Lee couldn’t shake the niggling feeling that Jo might just not come home. What if she’d snapped? What if she just decided not to come back? Where would that leave him? He knew it was irrational, but it was a measure of how bad things had got that he even considered it as a possibility. But sure enough, at five thirty-two, he heard her key in the door and he let out the breath he didn’t even realised he’d been holding.
‘Hi,’ he said warmly, walking to the door to greet her. He went to kiss her, and she turned her head slightly so he caught the corner of her mouth.
‘Mummy! Mummy! Mummy!’ Zach yelled, rushing into the hallway and barrelling straight into Jo’s arms. ‘We got you flowers! Come and see! The orange ones are the best and they’re from me!’ He dragged her through into the living room. Lee followed. Zach was chattering excitedly, and Jo was standing looking at the flowers, Imi in her arms. He walked up behind her and put a hand in the small of her back. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said softly.
She half turned and glanced at him, and he felt her back straighten and stiffen under his hand. He recognised the look. It said, ‘Not now.’ He took a step back.
‘Come on, Zach,’ he said as calmly as he could. ‘Mum’s hungry. Are you going to help me do the veggies for dinner?’
They barely spoke to one another while they organised dinner and got the kids ready for bed, although they both made a huge effort to be even-tempered and nice to the kids. After a raucous bath game called ‘Daddy’s hand is a shark, splash him as much as you can’, they got both children into their pyjamas and down for the night. Lee stayed upstairs a little longer, reading ‘one more story’ to Zach. When he came down, Jo was sitting at the table working on her laptop. She had moved the flowers to the kitchen windowsill.
‘I’m sorry if you didn’t like the flowers,’ said Lee. ‘I was trying to find a way to say I was sorry.’
Jo looked up at him and took off her glasses. ‘When did you last buy me flowers?’
‘What? I … Where is this going?’
‘Seriously, Lee? When did you last buy me flowers?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Never. You’ve never bought me flowers.’
‘Wow. Okay. Well, I’m sorry for that too.’ Lee threw his hands up in the air.
‘No, no. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s the opposite of what I’m saying. You never bought me flowers because you’re an amazing husband. You’ve always been so amazing, so loving, so committed. Flowers always seemed to me to be a cop-out – a way someone less attentive than you says, “I’m thinking about you,” or, “I’m sorry.” Usually “I’m sorry I fucked up”. You never bought me flowers because you didn’t need to, and I loved that. But do you know what? If we’re entering the phase in our marriage where you have to buy me flowers, I don’t know that I want to go there.’
‘I was just trying—’
‘I know. And I do appreciate the effort, I do.’ She stood up and touched his arm. ‘It just feels more serious than a bunch of flowers, Lee.’
‘I know.’
‘I love you, I do, and I love being married to you. Whatever else was going on in the world, it always felt like I had one part of my life completely sorted, being with you. You were my soulmate and my best friend and my lover … but now …’
‘I’m still all those things. I’m just … in a bad place right now.’
‘I know. I can see. But it’s a place you chose, Lee. I didn’t make you give up work. You chose to. And if you’re feeling lost, I will help you as much as I can. But you have to remember I’m not the enemy.’
‘I know,’ he said, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he did know. ‘It’s just … we’re in very different places right now. Things are going so well for you—’
‘They are going well, and that’s also scary. Very scary. And lonely, when I don’t have your support.’
Lee felt a little bubble of anger that he just couldn’t quell. ‘Here’s a thought,’ he said, his lip curling, ‘why don’t you start by not interrupting me? It would be super to form a complete thought into words without you telling me what I should and shouldn’t feel. And secondly, can you cut it out with the condescending “poor little rich girl, poor me” routine?’
Jo’s face hardened. ‘Okay,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘Form a thought.’
‘I was going to say that things are going so well for you, and that’s great, but I feel left out and left behind. You keep making decisions without me.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like the whole American thing.’
‘It wasn’t a decision. It was a possibility, which I tried to discuss with you.’
‘I hate America!’ Lee burst out. ‘I hate Americans and their politics and their lifestyle and their consumerism and the way they do business, and I could never, ever live there.’
‘That is the most irrational, xenophobic and racist thing I’ve ever heard you say!’ Jo exploded. ‘You’ve never even been to America! You’re basing your views on Fox News and The West Wing, and a few episodes of Sex and the City!’
‘I don’t care if it’s irrational. I don’t want my children to be Americans.’
‘Here’s what I don’t want,’ Jo said. ‘I don’t want to be married to someone who supports me up to a point and then decides to withdraw his support because things are going well for me and he’s threatened.’
‘You don’t want to be married to me?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying.’
‘Sounds to me like it is.’
‘I want to be married to the Lee I used to know. The Lee who thought anything was possible and had enough drive and ambition for ten people. Who rejoiced in other people’s success, instead of trying to put them down.’
‘And what if that Lee doesn’t exist any more?’
‘He does. I know he does.’ Jo’s eyes begged him to hear and understand her.
Lee, who had been standing in the doorway for the whole conversation, walked over and held out his hand. Jo went to him and he drew her into his arms. She started to cry, big gulping sobs, and he held her tightly. Later they sat on the sofa, watching a terrible sitcom, their hands knotted tightly together, listening to the canned laughter and watching the bright colours. After what seemed like hours of silence, Jo said quietly, ‘I booked my flight to New York.’
Lee didn’t say anything. He just nodded.
*
She flew out on a chilly and rainy morning, the first hint that autumn was definitely on its way. Lee and the kids drove her to the airport. They kissed goodbye at the departure gate, but there was no real way to talk, because Zach was jumping up and down, yelling that Lee had promised him they could go to the newsagent’s to get a Doctor Who magazine, and Imi was toddling off determinedly towards the Air Singapore check-in.
‘We’ll talk,’ said Jo, looking into his face for reassurance.
‘Yes,’ said Lee. He wanted to say something meaningful, but he really did have to go after Im
i. ‘Yes,’ he said again. He kissed Jo one last time and set off after the intrepid explorer, Zach in tow.
She rang late that afternoon to say she had arrived and was in her hotel. She sounded tired and lonely, and Lee wished, not for the first time, that he had been less of a bastard and gone with her. But to be honest, they couldn’t have afforded it. Jo’s trip alone was costing more than she had anticipated.
He found it very draining being a single parent. Even though Jo usually only came home a couple of hours before the kids went to bed, her arrival from work signalled the end of his stint of sole responsibility. Without the relief of her key in the door at five thirty, the days seemed monstrously long and the evenings very lonely. The kids missed Jo and they both played up. Imi stopped sleeping through the night, and Lee very quickly capitulated and put her in the big bed with him, more for the comfort of her small warm form than because it was a good idea. When Zach woke up the next morning and saw Imi had slept with Lee, he demanded to sleep in the big bed too, so by the third night, Lee was lying awkwardly hemmed in by two hot, restless little bodies that seemed to lie perpendicular to him, whichever way he turned.
It rained every day, and it wasn’t till the fourth day after Jo’s departure, a Friday, that there was a long enough gap between downpours to take the kids to the park. They both ran around like overexcited terriers, releasing days of pentup energy, and Lee, now a pro, followed them from swing to slide with a muslin cloth, ready to dry the equipment before they used it. After the kids had run themselves ragged, they all sat on a dry bit of bench and shared a snack of digestive biscuits and raisins. Lee kept an eye on the clouds – there were dark grey ones gathering ominously low, and he didn’t want to get caught in the rain. The playground was far from the car park and he hadn’t brought the pushchair. If they had to make a run for it, they would all get drenched.
Sure enough, as they stood up to go, the first fat drops began to fall. Just a few at first, but very quickly the rain began tumbling down in great sheets. Lee gathered both children close to him and stood under a tree. Zach laughed with delight, but Imi, who hated showers or having her hair washed, began to wail.
‘What are we going to do, Dad?’ said Zach excitedly. ‘Are we going to run to the car? It’s far!’
‘Maybe we should stay here, try to wait it out,’ said Lee.
‘Or we could go to Martha’s house. It’s really close.’
‘Brilliant idea!’ said Lee. He should have thought of it himself. Martha’s house, or rather Miranda’s house, was just a few yards from the playground entrance to the park … maybe a thirty-second dash from where they were. If she wasn’t in, there was an overhanging porch where they could shelter until the rain passed.
She was in, however, and she laughed when she saw the three drowned Hockley rats on her doorstep.
‘Come in,’ she said. ‘We’ve just been baking muffins. Your timing is perfect.’
Lee hadn’t seen Miranda since her mother’s funeral, and he had hoped she would be looking and feeling better, but if anything she had lost even more weight. She had soft features and delicate skin, and being thin aged her. He could see some threads of grey in her dark curls too. She looked sad, he thought. Her mum’s illness and death had clearly taken it out of her, and the plump, cheery, chatty woman who used to annoy Jo so much in the park had all but disappeared. Nevertheless, she was trying her best to be sociable and bubbly.
‘I heard from Holly that Jo’s off to New York,’ she said. ‘How exciting!’
‘Yes, she’s there now.’
‘Ah, well, I hope it goes well for her,’ said Miranda. ‘I’m also a business-trip widow. Paul’s in Japan – again.’ There was an uncharacteristic sourness in that ‘again’. She obviously heard it too, or registered Lee’s slightly surprised expression, because she changed tack completely.
‘Now,’ she said brightly, ‘you’re all drenched. What can we do about that?’
Lee, veteran of many a playground accident, had a complete change of clothes for both children in his bag, and he stripped them off and dressed them in dry trousers and jumpers. They scampered off to the playroom with Martha and Oscar.
‘What about you?’ Miranda asked.
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ he said.
‘No, you’re not, she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re soaked through. Let me get you something dry.’ She dashed upstairs and came back with an expensive-looking grey jumper.
‘Paul never wears this,’ she said, handing it to him. He was very aware of the odd intimacy of the situation, so he took the jumper into the downstairs bathroom and changed there. Paul was slightly smaller than him so the sleeves were too short. Other than that, the jumper was a good fit and was very comfortable. It was so soft he suspected it was cashmere. He pushed the sleeves up and went looking for Miranda. He found her in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to some delicious-looking home-made cappuccinos.
‘I love my new coffee machine,’ she smiled, handing him a mug. ‘And the muffins are ready, so help yourself.’
They chatted easily about all sorts of things: school places for Zach and Martha, changes that had been made at the nursery, a television documentary that they had both seen. Lee glanced out of the window and saw that the rain clouds had cleared, but that the sun was low. It must be later than he’d thought. He glanced at his watch.
‘Damn! It’s nearly six o’clock!’
‘Time flies when you’re having fun!’ said Miranda brightly. He had forgotten her habit of resorting to clichés, but he realised now that she generally did it when she was uncomfortable. He stood up to go, and she said suddenly, ‘What are your plans for dinner?’
‘The best that PizzaExpress has to offer,’ said Lee. He had exhausted his limited repertoire of recipes over the past few nights, and he’d decided to treat the kids and himself.
‘Stay.’ Miranda smiled. ‘We’re only having macaroni cheese, but there’s loads. The kids could watch a film.’
‘Well, macaroni cheese is Zach’s favourite.’ Lee smiled too. ‘And, if I’m honest, it’s mine too. I don’t think my taste buds have ever grown up.’
‘Brilliant!’ She seemed genuinely pleased, and began bustling around the kitchen. Lee went through to the playroom, where there seemed to have been some kind of tornado or other natural disaster. The floor was carpeted in Lego, wooden bricks and dismembered dolls. He sighed and organised a clean-up team. The older two were helpful, but Oscar followed them around determinedly trying to unpack anything they put away, while Imi sat in a corner chewing on a Barbie leg. Eventually, order won over disorder, and he got them all to sit down for a story.
Miranda came to call them for dinner and they all sat around her big kitchen table eating macaroni cheese and chattering. Lee and Miranda had a glass of wine each, and once the kids had eaten, she ushered them all into the living room to watch a film. They were all tucked in under a fluffy blanket, and Lee took advantage of the moment’s respite to jog through the park and fetch his car, which he then parked outside Miranda’s house. When he came back in, she put a finger to her lips and they tiptoed into the living room. All four kids were asleep, tumbled against each other. She had muted the film, and now she switched it off and dimmed the living-room lights.
‘I should go,’ Lee whispered.
‘There’s no hurry,’ said Miranda. ‘Tomorrow’s Saturday. Have another coffee, and then you can pop your two in the car. They don’t have to be up early tomorrow, and neither do you.’
He followed her through to the kitchen. She’d loaded her expensive dishwasher and it was humming quietly. The kitchen was immaculate.
‘So how’s the book going?’ she asked, as she made coffee.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve got the outline of the story, and I’ve been experimenting with styles of illustration. I think when I know what it’s going to look like, I’ll be able to finalise the words, and then know exactly which illustrations I need to do.’
> ‘You’re just so amazing,’ Miranda said, handing him his cappuccino. ‘I don’t understand the creative process at all – how you can make something out of nothing. I admire people like you and Holly so much.’
‘Now you’re going to make me blush.’
‘No, really, it’s a mystery. Tell me more. Can you tell me your idea about the story, or is it a secret?’
He gave her a rough outline, and she asked loads of questions – not, he thought disloyally, the sort of penetrating, hypercritical questions Jo would have asked, but naive questions born of genuine curiosity.
It felt different from their easy conversation of the afternoon – much more intimate, now that it was dark and the children were all asleep. They talked softly, and she sat closer to him than she had that afternoon. Close enough that he could catch the occasional whiff of her perfume, which was something very sweet and floral. Wild rose, maybe.
A silence fell, and he looked up to see Miranda staring into her cup. A shadow crossed her face.
‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She managed a small smile. ‘It’s just … every now and again, my mum … well, I forget for a moment and then I remember. I know it’s supposed to get easier, but at the moment it just seems to be getting worse.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lee said. ‘It must be hard.’
‘It’s not even as if we were that close, but she was always there, you know? I felt like I was connected to my family, to my past, to growing up …’
‘And now …?’
‘Well, it’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? Your last parent dying. It means you’re a grown-up.’
‘I hate to point this out, but you’re a mum with two kids and a house and a husband … you’re a grown-up.’ He smiled gently.
‘I know all that,’ she said. ‘But none of us really believes we are, do we? We all think we’re still teenagers, really.’
He laughed at this. ‘I suppose we do. Although I was the gawkiest teenager – long, skinny legs like bits of spaghetti … and the biggest Afro you ever saw.’