by Carrie Adams
I was staring hard at my reflection when Claudia came into the ladies’ loo. I smiled sympathetically at her, figuring I knew why she’d escaped too.
“Are you OK?” I asked her.
“I’ll be fine as soon as you stop picking on Helen.”
“What?”
Claudia leaned back against the basin. “It’s not her fault that Neil had to go to work.”
“If he is at work.”
“Tessa, don’t you think you’re being a little unfair? How many times has your friend Billy messed up childcare arrangements and you’ve ended up dragging Cora along to something. Didn’t Francesca fail to collect you from the airport for the same reason? The kids come first, that’s just tough shit. If it’s OK for Fran and Billy, then it’s OK for Helen.”
“I know that, but this is a bit different, don’t you think?”
“Weren’t you listening to what I said upstairs? Of course it’s hard, it’s been hard for years. I count babies on the street. How many I see. My record is forty-four in a day. Forty-four babies that weren’t mine.”
“Exactly, this is your goodbye lunch. You’ve been through hell.”
“You are missing my point. I didn’t want those forty-four mothers not to have babies. I don’t want Helen not to have her twins. I want you to have children, when you want them. I want you to bore me with every burp and poo when the time comes. I’d like to bore you too, that’s all. Not instead of. As well as. If Helen had not come because she thought I would prefer not to see her than see her and her children, then I will just become so isolated that I’ll be doomed. I’m flattered she brought them.”
“I think you give her too much credit. I think she is completely blinkered by those babies and her dreadful husband.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Tessa. I’m sure that when Neil was called away, she thought, Great, we’ll all go to Claudia’s farewell lunch which is taking place because Al and Claudia lost their baby a week ago. Ideal.”
“I don’t think Neil was called away.”
“Irrelevant. Neil isn’t my friend, Helen is. Her decision was based on establishing a normality between us. If I hadn’t had a miscarriage she would have brought the twins. I need you all to be normal, so that I don’t disappear into the madness that is threatening to consume me.” Claudia swallowed hard, ran her fingers back through her dark bob several times, before looking at me again. I watched her closely. With her hair pulled back I noticed for the first time that her hairline was receding. Because she wore her hair in a bob, it always fell forward, but actually, on closer inspection, it looked—I peered closer—thin.
I pulled back when Claudia looked back at me. “Helen bringing the twins here forces me to be normal. You have to understand that.”
“But it must be so hard.” Emotionally and, by the looks of it, physically.
“Even if it was too hard, it’s not too hard for you. Why are you so angry?”
I stared at her.
“Tessa, what is it?”
I shook my head.
“There is something, though, isn’t there?”
This is the trouble with such old friends. No hope of reinvention.
“Are you pregnant?”
My jaw dropped. “God, no.”
“If you were, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”
I pulled Claudia towards me so she couldn’t see the relief on my face. “I’m not going to get pregnant, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but you sleep around.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m just saying, accidents happen.”
“No, accidents don’t happen. People take risks and get caught. I don’t take risks—”
Claudia opened her mouth to protest.
“I don’t.”
“That’s bollocks. Did you use a condom with that bloke the other night?”
Not the first time, I grant you, or the second in the shower. “Not fair. They were exceptional circumstances.”
Claudia crossed her arms. “In other words, ‘No, Claudia, I didn’t, because I’m an idiot.’”
“I’m on the pill,” I said, defending myself.
“Ever heard of Chlamydia? Not to mention the obvious.”
“Of course, but—”
“It won’t happen to you.”
“It was once, Claudia.”
“Hmm.” She wasn’t convinced. “Won’t it be nice that when you do finally meet someone and try to start a family, you’ll discover you can’t have kids because you slept around without a condom? That’ll be fun.”
“We’re not in here to talk about me.”
“Nice deflection, babe. You’re good at that.”
“Claudia,” I said, stung. “I’m sorry I came down on Helen, but don’t be mad at me.”
“Sometimes you are maddening.”
I was confused. Helen was the one we were mad at—spoilt, selfish Helen with her giant Bugaboo pram and matching nappy bags.
“You’re holding something back from me, I know it,” said Claudia, her blue eyes staring at me.
“No.”
“Don’t you think it’s time to face a few things?”
What, like you accepting you can’t have kids? I turned on the tap and washed my hands methodically. I wanted out of this conversation before I said something I regretted.
“I’m sorry I was angry with Helen for bringing the twins.” I walked to the hand-dryer and waved my wet hands under it. Nothing happened. Claudia passed me some loo paper.
“Thanks. I’ll rein it in, I promise. Do you think Helen noticed?”
“You’ve got a big personality, Tessa, and when you’re cross, we all duck.”
“You’re no wilting flower, my friend.”
“It upsets me when I see you…” Claudia paused. I used it to my advantage.
“I’ll be nice to Helen, I promise.”
Claudia put her hand on mine and looked at me long and hard. “Tessa, ever worry that we’re stuck? Me and this baby thing, you and…” She didn’t finish the sentence again, and I wasn’t going to help her. I looked at her blankly. It’s all about how good your poker face is. Mine is excellent. Thinking about it, I should learn how to play because I may wear my emotions on my sleeve when it’s about others, but I can conjure up an unscalable blank wall and hold it for hours when it’s about me. It drives my mother mad. Claudia gave up. “I know you can’t stand Neil, but Helen isn’t as strong as you. She needed a base. Away from her mother. At least she’s achieved that.”
“Out of the frying pan…”
“Maybe. But you should try and be more understanding. You have been loved from the moment you were born. You expect that standard of love and won’t accept anything else. That’s good—you should be loved. But Helen has never had that, so cut her a little slack if she is one-track-minded about those little boys. I bet it’s a double-edged sword to discover the depths of her own maternal love and learn for the first time how little she’s been loved herself. Throw in the hormones, which I can testify will send the sanest person off kilter, an unsupportive husband, too much money, no sleep, and, frankly, I think she’s doing pretty well.”
I wanted the anger in me to dissipate, but it was stubbornly clinging to my ribcage.
“She needs you, but she’ll never ask,” said Claudia.
That worked. I like to be needed. “I’m going to miss you,” I said. “Even if you are a harridan.”
“Come out to Singapore. We could go beach-hopping for a couple of weeks, let Al get his work done and give him a break from worrying about me.”
That didn’t sound like a bad idea. “I could.”
“You could.”
“I mean, I really could.”
Claudia nodded enthusiastically. “In the meantime, will you stop terrifying the living daylights out of Helen?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” Claudia took my hand. “Now let’s go and have another glass of wine. There’s got to be some benefit to not bein
g pregnant any more.”
I couldn’t actually apologize to Helen but I did look into the pram and make appropriate noises about how sweet the boys looked and how good they were. They were as soundly asleep as they had been at the christening and I wondered if Helen exaggerated her “nightmare” and exhaustion over the sleeplessness to hide what was really keeping her awake at night: namely, an absent husband. Helen visibly relaxed and I felt bad that I had that sort of control over her so I told her again how incredible she’d looked at the christening and how well it had all gone.
“I’m sorry I vanished like that,” said Helen quietly to me. “I think I was polite conversationed out. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“You didn’t.”
“And I’m sorry I’ve been such a grouch. I’m getting it together, I promise. We’ll have that night out we keep talking about”—for a year and a half now—“not the launch thing, you and me, like we used to.”
“That would be great,” I said. Though I wouldn’t be holding my breath.
“I could do with a girls’ night out,” said Sasha, joining in. “Far too many men in my life these days.”
“I’ll leave the boys with Neil, he can put them to bed.”
“From what I hear, that’ll be a shock to the system,” said Ben.
I waited for Helen to bristle, look at me and tell me off for gossiping, but she didn’t. “You’re telling me,” she said, smiling broadly. “I don’t think he knows which one is which without their names on.”
Everyone laughed, Helen loudest of all. The table rallied around her. I should have been pleased that Helen was exceeding my expectations of her but instead it made me feel oddly uncomfortable. I ordered more wine and poured generously into everyone’s glasses. We soon felt the effects of lunchtime drinking, except Helen, and our table got steadily rowdier. The babies were good as gold and we all wished we could sleep through all the bad jokes and old stories we somehow never tired of telling. Claudia smiled broadly at me. She had got what she wanted, against the odds: we managed to have a fun, relaxed, happy lunch, a group of old mates with no cares in the world, when, in reality, nothing could have been further from the truth.
Al and Claudia were leaving first thing the following morning. At five we finally signed the bill and left a smattering of empty limoncello glasses on the ruined white tablecloth. Helen had left earlier when the babies started to stir. We urged her to stay but she said she couldn’t face feeding them in a restaurant, and they were easily distracted. I thought she was probably aware that breastfeeding in front of Claudia would be a bridge too far.
There is a difference between striving for normality and rubbing someone’s nose in it and I silently appreciated the gesture.
The five of us stood on the pavement. This was it. The goodbyes. I hugged Al first and was surprised that I could feel his ribs. He’d lost yet more weight. I told him again how amazing he was. Then Sasha hugged Al and I hugged Claudia and told her I would look into flights. Then Sasha hugged Claudia and I was left standing next to Ben. Al hailed a cab. Claudia and Sasha were talking. My arm was touching Ben’s; I could feel the heat through my shirt. Ben put his arm around my back and squeezed my opposite shoulder, then he let his arm fall away as he walked over to Al. We waved at Al and Claudia until they rounded the corner. And then there were three.
Sasha saw a bus. “Come on, it goes straight home.”
“A bus?” said Ben.
“Don’t be such a snob. Come on, run, you lazy sod.”
He turned back to me.
“Come on!” Sasha was already halfway to the bus stop, waving her hand madly.
“Go,” I insisted, smiling.
“I don’t want to leave you here by yourself,” he said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Sure?”
“Go,” I said again, pushing him slightly.
“See you at the launch?”
The launch?
“Neil’s TV thing.”
God, I’d completely forgotten he was going to that. “Absolutely.”
“That’s a date.” He blew me a kiss, turned and ran. They waved at me from the top deck, smiling drunkenly. I waved back, swearing as I did so. My days of using Ben as my walker were supposed to be over. My days of filling Sasha’s shoes had to end. This was my promise to myself. I pulled my jacket around me. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. I don’t want to leave you here by yourself. I stared after the bus.
“Then don’t,” I said, lowering my hand. Finally, it too rounded the corner, taking the last of my friends away. And then there was only one.
11
pants on fire
I awoke on Monday morning feeling despondent. The week stretched ahead of me with nothing in the diary but an interview with a headhunter on Wednesday and a meeting with my accountant on Friday. Whoop, whoop. Throw in a couple of yoga classes, some chores and food shopping and there was still a vast expanse of time to fill.
I missed Claudia and Al. Not that I saw them on a weekly basis, but I missed their presence. Sasha had told me she was away all week, which meant avoiding Ben at all costs until my mind had stopped tripping. Helen said she was taking the twins and Rose to her house in the country for the week so she was well rested and looking her best for Neil’s launch on the weekend. Helen always looked so glamorous at large events, but I knew she did not find them easy. For such a beautiful woman, she was incredibly self-conscious and strangely shy. Reading between the lines I thought that Neil was probably being punished for doing an all-nighter the night before Claudia and Al’s leaving lunch. Despite his resistance to getting his hands dirty with the twins, there was no doubt he loved his sons and heirs, as he referred to them. Well, if not loved them, then loved the fact of them, which would probably do until they were older and a little more rewarding as companions. I was pleased that Helen seemed to be finding a little backbone.
Outside the sky was bright autumn blue. I refused to sit on my arse and stare out at the world any longer. I watched bikes cross the bridge. That’s what I’d do—I’d get my bike out of storage, and go for a ride. I quickly dialed Fran’s number before I changed my mind.
“Hey, Fran, you busy?”
“Funny.”
I didn’t think I was being funny.
“Where are you?”
“About to cycle home from school.”
“Great, do you want to meet me instead? Battersea Park, go for a cycle, then have coffee?”
“Um…”
“It’s a beautiful day.”
“Sod it, why not. The laundry can wait. It’ll take me about twenty minutes to get there.”
“Perfect, it’ll take me twenty minutes to get the cobwebs off my bike. I’ll see you at the gate, Chelsea Bridge end.”
“Brilliant,” said Francesca. “Just what I need.”
Roman laughed at me when I appeared in my helmet and reflective strip. My bike hadn’t moved since the week I’d purchased it following a decision to cycle to work every day. It would save me paying a fortune to a gym just to cycle on the spot. The craze lasted one day. Cycling to work was great; it was cycling home that was the problem. I met up with friends in the City that night and after a few drinks got lost in the backwaters of Aldgate East and ended up, I still don’t know how, descending into the Limehouse Link tunnel and being forced to cycle madly in the carbon-monoxide gloom for miles before I resurfaced at Canary Wharf. Unable to face the fumes and fear again, I Zingoed a cab and spent a fortune getting myself and my bike home. I had bruised buttock bones for a week. The bike was banished to the basement, and I hadn’t ventured out since. But this was a new me.
Francesca was sitting atop her old-fashioned bike, a basket full of God knows what and clips around her trouser bottoms. Her wavy brown hair was cut sensibly short, her clothes hid her figure, but her skin was still youthful and smooth. I guess that came from a life of not burning the candle at all. She did look a bit bar
king though, in a nice, eccentric, but homely sort of way. I was about to tease her, but she laughed at me before I had a chance to laugh at her. I guess it did look a bit sad, all that brand-new bicycle kit on a girl who didn’t bicycle. We turned our bikes through the gate and pedaled off at a nice, sedate, ladylike pace. I wanted to talk to her about Caspar, but I thought I’d beat around the bush for a while first.
“How’s Nick?”
“In Saigon.”
“Lucky thing. I loved Saigon.”
“He doesn’t get to see much more than inside a hotel. He’s at an international conference about child labor—you know, kids making flashing trainers. On the other side of the universe, I’m in Woolworth’s doing battle with a five-year-old over those same flashing trainers.”
“Is this a rhetorical discussion we’re having?” I said, feeling my cheeks start to glow as I pedaled.
“Oh no. Poppy screamed and screamed and screamed when I said no. You should have seen the looks I got from the other mothers. £4.99 would have brought me peace. It’s the principle of the thing. You cannot give in. If you do, you’re doomed. Your word means nothing; your children will run you out of town. I only went in for a tin-opener.”
I had to laugh.
“It’s all right for you, you’re not being forever humiliated in public by your children.”
“No,” I replied, speeding up a bit to chase a squirrel. I turned back to Francesca. “But then I can do that all by myself.”
Fran caught up. She didn’t look remotely out of breath. “She told me I was ruining her life! Five years old! I could have killed her,” she said. I hid my smile. I’d be hopeless at the discipline bit. I’m sure I’d get the giggles.
“I’m turning into a sour puss. It’s the summer holidays, they don’t half drag.”
“Summer holidays? Fran, it’s October.”
“Exactly. And I still haven’t recovered. Nick has been away so much; Caspar, as you know, has been a bit of a challenge; the girls know exactly when to tighten the screws. I’m bored of it, bored of fighting on all fronts.”