‘If we can’t all be in the same room for a couple of hours on Christmas Day then it’s pretty sad,’ he tells her. ‘I wouldn’t say I have a family,’ Finn told me once when we were at Cambridge, ‘I’d describe us more as a loose relationship of people.’ I squeeze his hand.
‘Why’s that ridiculous man here?’ Granny tries to whisper but everyone hears. I kiss her soft powdery cheek. Her grey hair is immaculately brushed with little strands curling about her ears and she’s wearing a smart navy outfit. Granny always wears blue. Her late husband, Bobby, used to work on a cruise ship. ‘Did you go to church?’ She waves her stick at Dicky.
‘I go to church once a year on Christmas Day, just for insurance.’ He puffs his chest out like a crow.
‘How’s the work going?’ my father asks him.
‘Funny you should mention it, Phil.’ I can’t look at Dad as I know we’ll both get the giggles. ‘I met a couple in London who want me to redesign their kitchen, real City slickers, you know.’ Dicky has an unfortunate front tooth that moves when he talks. ‘I told them today it’s all about smooth marble surfaces and units painted a uniform colour, to give it the minimalist look. “Voilà! It’s a no-brainer,” I said.’
‘Absolument,’ Dad replies gravely.
Finn touches my shoulder for solidarity before he hands Granny her glass of brandy and ginger and leads her to the tall comfy chair that’s angled precisely towards the large flat-screen television.
Dicky continues, ‘So the next stage was …’
‘Why are you orange?’ Granny interrupts. ‘Where have you been? Ibiza?’
I try not to laugh. Dicky does have faint lines around his eyes where the sun-bed goggles have been.
Next Ed arrives with his new girlfriend. ‘Granny, this is Zoe.’
She eyes them cautiously. ‘You’re late. Stopped for a bit of nooky, did you?’
‘Granny!’ we all say together.
My father laughs. He likes Granny. She delves into her handbag to find her old silver cigarette case. ‘I need a twig.’
Soon glasses are being refilled, crisps and nuts are being heaped into serving bowls. Finn is laughing about some new voice-over Ed has just landed for a soap powder. Ed is still an actor. He’s had a few minor roles in soap operas and hospital dramas but hasn’t made his name yet. ‘When are you going to get a proper job?’ Gwen always asks him.
I take some salted nuts over to Granny. I try hard not to inhale cigarette smoke but she pulls me down onto the sofa next to her. ‘Where’s my favourite great-grandson?’ she asks.
‘Upstairs. He’s tired, didn’t sleep at all last night.’
‘Good. I’ve brought you something.’ Has Granny bought me a present this year? A piece of vintage jewellery, perhaps? With one shaky hand she gives me a newspaper cutting. ‘Thought it was rather interesting,’ she says. ‘The experts say ADHD doesn’t exist.’
*
Lunch is finally over and we are all watching the Queen’s Speech. I can hear George jumping down the stairs. He never walks; he runs. He reaches the bottom and skids across the floor. George never lands; he crashes.
Gwen offers one side of her face to him and I watch her wipe it afterwards, the way I used to with an ‘Ugh!’ when either Mum or Dad kissed me. Her first grandchild and she can hardly bear to look at him. Granny pats the seat next to her. George ignores the signal and starts to tell everyone in great detail about the school nativity play. Already I can see glazed expressions. It’s like a long-winded joke being recalled and then heavy disappointment because no one really gets it.
‘Bravo,’ Granny kindly says.
‘Wow, look at all the presents!’ He starts to shake them. ‘Are they all for me?’
We decide now is a good time to open them and wrapping paper gets torn off with enthusiasm.
‘Thanks for the cheque, Mum,’ Finn says.
For the first time she looks sheepish. ‘I know money’s unimaginative but …’
‘It’s great,’ he says graciously.
‘I love my cardi, darling.’ She presses it to her chest but of course doesn’t have time actually to try it on.
The telephone rings. ‘Who calls on Christmas Day?’ shouts Granny. ‘It’ll be “the lover”, won’t it?’
It is Clarky. ‘Can we talk later? Lots of love,’ I mutter quietly, aware of Granny staring at me like a hawk.
‘Right.’ Finn taps his champagne glass with a teaspoon again. ‘I would like to make a toast to Josie.’
Is he going to praise me for my cooking? Thank me for hosting Christmas Day?
‘This year, she couldn’t have given me a better present.’
A shiver runs down my spine. ‘I want to tell them,’ he says.
‘Finn,’ I stare hard at him, ‘don’t you dare.’
‘Josie and I are having a baby.’
Even George is quiet.
‘You’re what?’ Gwen finally asks, straining her neck forward.
‘Pregnant. Still early days, but we’re thrilled.’ He takes my hand and holds it tight.
‘Fantastic, Josie!’ Ed hugs me.
‘Does that mean I have a brother?’ George blurts out.
Finn looks expectantly at his mother. He still craves her approval. ‘Was it a mistake?’ is all she can say.
Mum walks over to me. ‘I think it’s lovely news.’
Gwen looks horrified, as if she’s just been presented with a catastrophic tax bill. ‘But I didn’t think you wanted more children, Josie?’ she says.
Ed looks at her with despair. ‘Mum, you can’t say things like that.’
‘I think it’s grand news,’ Granny declares.
‘I’m getting a brother!’ George leaps up and starts to clap and dance. ‘When, Mum? I want one now.’
‘But what if it’s another boy like George?’ Gwen gasps. ‘How will you cope if you have another child like him?’
‘Twaddle! Will you shut up, Gwen?’ Granny demands.
Has anyone noticed that I haven’t said a word yet?
‘What’s wrong with me?’ George asks, standing still now.
‘Nothing.’ I pull away from Finn and hug my son tightly, burying my head in his hair. I’m trying not to cry.
‘Tell me,’ Dicky starts enthusiastically, a sparkle in his eyes and one hand on his hip, ‘what’s new in sex these days?’
That’s it. I’m off. Finn stops me at the banisters. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Don’t even ask.’ I walk upstairs.
‘Has Mummy gone to have the baby?’ George cries out happily.
*
Finn’s family leave promptly.
Why hasn’t he come to talk to me yet? Mum and Dad have left too, but Mum spoke to me earlier. ‘He shouldn’t have announced it like that, but I would have loved to have had a second child. Don’t lose sight of what is very happy news,’ she’d said, hugging me tightly.
I have to talk to Finn before I explode.
‘Oh, Josie, I was going to bring you up a cup …’
‘How dare you tell them!’
Finn starts tidying up the wrapping paper.
I am shaking violently.
‘What difference does a couple of weeks make?’ he asks, still not looking me in the eye.
‘If you don’t understand why I am so angry, I don’t even know why we’re together.’
He huffs. ‘That’s a bit drastic.’
I walk over to the sofa and hurl a cushion at him.
It lands near the fire. ‘Bad shot.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘OK, I realise it didn’t exactly go down the way I’d hoped …’
‘That’s an understatement.’
‘I wanted to share our news. I’m happy!’ He claps his hands. ‘Is that so bad?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want George to know so soon.’
‘Stop using him as an excuse.’
‘He’s not an excuse, and I knew your mum would react like that. I needed to get it sorted out
in my own head first before you started telling everyone how thrilled we were.’
‘Anyone would think you didn’t want this baby.’
‘There’s a part of me that doesn’t.’
‘Do you know how that sounds?’
‘I’m being honest.’
‘There is no evidence to say you’ll have another child with ADHD, I’ve told you that.’
‘I don’t care about the evidence! This is how I feel. I’m the one looking after George, day in, day out. All you do is take him to the car-boot sale.’
‘That’s unfair. I do my bit.’
‘Well, you need to do a whole lot more. It doesn’t matter that I might love my work at the moment. I can give all of that up for you and the next baby, like I gave up my job in Paris … for you, the almighty Finn!’ I bow in mock reverence. ‘It’s always been about YOU.’
‘You gave it up for us. It was bad timing but …’
‘Bad timing?’ I laugh.
‘I’m so sorry I forced you to marry me.’
‘So am I!’
‘Oh, great. Mother’s cheque’s been ripped up with all the wrapping paper.’
‘How very symbolic.’
He frowns. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.’ The telephone rings. He picks it up. ‘Justin,’ he says abruptly, with a roll of the eyes holding the phone towards me. I snatch it out of his hand. I can’t even look at him. Finn takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes.
‘Hi, Clarky,’ I say, out of breath.
‘I wanted today to be special,’ I can hear Finn muttering. ‘I wanted my family to know how proud I am that we’re having another baby.’
I shift irritably. He always comes out with something sentimental to make me feel like the baddie.
‘Besides, you told Clarky the news before me, what’s the difference?’
He walks to the front door and slams it shut behind him.
*
I am curled up on the sofa. Finn still hasn’t come back. I hear steps and feel a small smooth hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t even thought of George in his bedroom listening to us howling at one another like wild dogs. I lift my face and he looks into my eyes, one hand still resting on me, the other clutching Baby. In his own way I think he is trying to say he loves me. We look at one another and finally make a connection that I didn’t think George was ever capable of making. He’s always lost in Legoland or his world of Pokémon cards. As he looks at me my heart swells.
I move my legs and he sits down next to me, resting his head against my shoulder. His eyes look blurred with tears. Stroking his hair, I tell him how sorry I am to have shouted at Dad.
‘It’s OK, Mummy. I know I’m difficult, I get a bit mental sometimes.’ George forgiving me so easily makes me feel even worse. ‘You don’t want a baby like me.’
‘I love you so much,’ I tell him.
He nods. ‘Do you love Dad?’
I take Baby from him and wrap it around both of us. George huddles in close. ‘Yes. You see, when you love someone, that’s when it hurts the most.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I had been seeing Finn for four weeks. He was more tender than I had expected; more patient than I could have hoped for. ‘And, oh, my God, he is so sexy,’ I’d confided to Tiana, still unable to comprehend that he was with me. ‘You’re a good catch too, Josie,’ she’d reminded me, as if I were a fish.
Finn only had to walk into a room and the atmosphere changed, girls instantly flicking their hair and applying gloss to their lips. ‘All they want to know is, “Who’s your friend?”’ Christo would often say in despair because Finn hogged all the limelight.
I couldn’t believe that it was my arm around him, that I was the one he kissed goodnight. Girls stared at me, no doubt wondering what I had that they didn’t. However, I wasn’t ready to sleep with him. ‘You make him wait,’ Tiana had advised too, ‘I jumped into bed with Sean on the second date and it’s game over.’ I loved her advice; it was entertaining and generous in its honesty. The truth was I was terrified I’d do it wrong and then the spell would be broken. I knew Finn found it difficult because he’d told me; but at the same time I could sense he relished the challenge because I hadn’t fallen into bed with him immediately.
I started to go to Finn’s club every Thursday after work. I’d dance all night and by the end of the evening have red raw blisters on my bare skin. He’d often bring his friends into the restaurant. ‘Josie, this is Paddy, Adam, Dom, and you know Christo.’ Finn liked to untie my short white apron or stick notes into my bra, ‘For the sex later,’ he’d tell his friends, grinning, and they’d all pound his back in approval.
I was getting to know them all well. Paddy had a gathering every Monday night. He always wore flared jeans and a thick woolly jumper. He played Reggae music, smoked marijuana, and his dad sold watches in India. Adam wanted to be an actor. Finn called him ‘the Thesp’. He teased Adam, saying his room was more like an English drawing room. ‘I caught him hanging a pheasant from his window,’ he’d told me incredulously. Dom was a drifter, living in his own world. He was the one who carried a stick like a shepherd’s crook and often wore mini-skirts. His father was a fashion designer who lived in Italy. I liked him because he was different, but Christo was my favourite of Finn’s friends. One evening at Momo’s I was carrying a couple of plates of penne and pesto when I saw a mouse scurrying over the worktop, near the baskets of bread. I shrieked and the plates crashed to the floor and smashed into smithereens. Finn and Christo rushed into the kitchen as if it were an Accident and Emergency ward. ‘Mouse,’ I managed to falter, as if I’d just been attacked by a great white shark.
‘Where? How do we kill it?’ Christo had grabbed a large broom and held it in front of him like a weapon.
‘Any traps?’ Finn looked at me. ‘Or glue? Where’d it go?’
I pointed a wobbling finger towards the bread bin. ‘Behind there.’
Christo took a few tentative steps. ‘Do we get it into a bag and then hit it with a rolling pin or something hard?’
‘That’s cruel,’ Finn said. ‘How would you like to be hit on the head with a rolling pin?’
‘I’m not a mouse. Josie, what do you think?’
‘I don’t care, just get rid of it!’ I hid behind him.
‘Christ, you’re a scaredy-cat, Josie.’ Finn was shaking his head at me now.
Christo leant in close to me. ‘Don’t worry, I’m scared of spiders.’ We watched Finn as he took a long loaf of bread out of its bag and in one deft motion lured the mouse onto it; it wriggled out of his grasp, whiskers twitching, and Finn had to dive for it again before finally placing it in the bag and running out of the restaurant. ‘Couldn’t kill it,’ he confessed when he returned, looking pale.
‘You were scared!’ Christo and I laughed at him.
Finn scratched his throat. ‘What’s the poor little thing ever done to us?’
I’d quizzed Christo on his background and learnt that his father came from Nigeria, his mother from Trinidad. He had always been educated in England. He’d gone to an English boarding school and had hated it. ‘It was positively Victorian,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I can still remember the feel of those wafer-thin blankets and the cold horrible bathroom. There was no comfort in that school.’
‘Christo was put into the reject dorm, too,’ Finn added. ‘Tell J.’
It was the first time he had shortened my name and I did a double take before listening to Christo.
‘“We’re English, we’re white, so we won’t make any of you prefects,”’ he explained. ‘That’s what they told us straight out. I was chucked into the reject dorm with two Chinese blokes. “You won’t ever be promoted to anything,” the headmaster told us. Don’t feel sorry for me,’ Christo insisted, looking my way, ‘that kind of thing has made me very self-sufficient. I got into music, it was my escape into another world.’
When I saw Finn and Christo together, it made sense to me why they were such good friends.
They both had this sense of not being quite good enough, not fitting easily into Cambridge. Setting up their club was a way to carve out their own territory, do something meaningful to them both.
*
In between all of this, Finn worked hard. He had two essays to hand in each week, and had to work at least ten to twelve hours a day to get the reading done. ‘The first three years are dry, nothing but learning facts and more facts. Physiology, biochemistry, anatomy … I can’t wait to actually meet some real patients.’ Sometimes we’d sit on my bed and I’d test him on what each joint and tendon were called and, more specifically, how to spell them. I’d point to diagrams illustrating kidneys and intestines, liver and gall bladder, and test him on the function of each. I was learning a lot about the fibula and the tibia, the metatarsal joints, and how my blood supply worked. If I cut my finger I’d learn how the body had receptors that picked up the message of pain. There was one time when I got bored of testing him. ‘What’s this called?’ I asked, unbuttoning my top instead and pointing to my collarbone. He kissed it gently. ‘Josie, you’re distracting me.’ All his papers scattered onto the floor.
His discipline was admirable. Sometimes he’d look so tired, his skin washed out, hair dishevelled and cheeks sallow. But there was always a steely determination in his eyes; something he felt he had to prove to himself. It was as if no one had ever believed in Finn and what he could achieve, so he had to make up for it by believing in himself. Underneath his bravado I was discovering someone who was very different from the Finn I had first met.
On a Saturday night we’d see a film or go out for a meal, as long as it wasn’t pizza. One Saturday he took me to the local disco because they played my music there, he’d teased. On Sundays I’d join his friends in our favourite greasy spoon and we’d feed our hangovers on scrambled eggs, sausages, orange juice and coffee. At the end of an evening we’d lie on my single bed, our long bodies squashed together like a couple of happy sardines.
I loved everything about him: the smell of his skin, wet and salty after dancing; running a hand through his soft hair. We’d smoke joints in my room, the lobster ashtray becoming a best friend. There had been one time when Clarky was practising his violin next-door and Finn and I were listening to a new CD he’d brought round. ‘Keep it down. I’m trying to practise,’ Clarky had shouted through the wall.
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