by Jules Wake
I lay down, curling up and opened it, the tatty cover and smoothed back the front page.
To my little bookworm,
A necessity not a luxury.
With all my love Maman.
My stomach cramped with regret and grief. If only I could flick back to the early pages of my life and start a chapter again. It was time I started acting like an adult and show my parents that I’d grown up … at last.
Chapter 26
The Christmas tree lights had been turned on and they’d been set to a tasteful slow fade. No gaudy flashing in this house. But it was a lovely tree, set full centre in the bay window. I touched the fir branches, scanning the range of decorations. Although Christelle and I weren’t at home, Mum had still put on all the childhood favourites, even the little mouse sleeping in a half walnut shell I’d made in primary school which was way past its best.
There was the broken glass decoration which I’d insisted one year we keep because it still looked pretty. I frowned. I would have expected Mum to have taken advantage of our absence this year to have a fully colour co-ordinated tree with matching decorations and chucked out the broken one.
A fire danced in the hearth, spitting slightly as it lapped at the fresh logs in the grate. Draped along the mantelpiece, already filled with cards, was a garland of cinnamon sticks and dried orange peel, the scent of which was carried on the warm air floating out into the room.
Mum was sitting curled up on the sofa, engrossed in a book. To my surprise, it was one of my favourites, Jill Mansell’s Staying at Daisy’s, – not something I’d have expected my scholarly mother to read but then hey, what did I really know about her?
Judging from her twitching lips and her absorption, she was clearly enjoying it.
‘Hi Mum.’ I felt shy and hesitant. ‘Sorry I fell asleep.’
‘I know, I did pop in but you looked so tired earlier I left you to it.’
She’d also covered me with a blanket and the thought of it brought a lump to my throat.
‘M-mum.’
She laid her book down on the sofa beside her.
I stood awkwardly not knowing what to say.
She smiled. ‘I’m just having a pre-dinner glass of wine. Your Dad’s doing the cooking tonight.’ She poured me a glass from the bottle of red at her elbow. ‘I take it you’re still not drinking white.’
‘Oh, God no!’ We exchanged a shared look of amused horror.
‘Funny that.’ She smiled and toasted me with her glass. ‘I wonder how Christelle got off scot free.’
I sat down in the opposite sofa. Mum and I shared an unusual affliction. We could drink anything except white wine, which bizarrely had a catastrophic effect on us. Instant inebriation. I think if it hadn’t been for Mum, no one would have believed me.
‘Marcus seemed nice.’
‘Yes.’ I couldn’t help the heavy sigh that escaped. ‘He’s far too nice. Wish I’d met him before.’
‘It’s never too late, Tilly.’ The timbre to her voice suggested that she was giving me a message.
I didn’t want to think about Felix. Not then. There was something else I needed to do.
‘Mum…’ My voice was suddenly rusty. It was harder than I’d thought it would be. ‘I’m … sorry …’ I couldn’t get any further than that.
‘Sweetheart,’ her eyes glowed with the tears that welled in them but didn’t slip over the edge. She wasn’t that much of a push over.
‘I’m …’ what else should I say? I’m sorry I’ve been a crap daughter. Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you and Christelle and Dad.
Suddenly she was beside me, her arm round me and I could feel the softness of her body as she hugged me. Inhaling her familiar fragrance, it brought back the rush of enveloping security that had been there when I was a small child. The ‘there-there comfort’ after a fall, the ‘we’re on your side’ after a row with a friend and the ‘you’re the best’ after a failure along with countless other hugs of support that before I was sixteen I’d valued.
‘I’ve been so horrible.’ Tears spilled onto my face, which was crap because I owed her an apology and here I was feeling sorry for myself and that was wrong. I didn’t want her sympathy because it wasn’t deserved.
‘Tilly. You were never horrible.’ Even now she was calm and reasonable which ratcheted up the guilt another notch. ‘Just angry with us. It lasted such a long time.’
I bit my lip, forcing myself to say the words. ‘You must have hated me.’
She shook her head with an amused smile. ‘Mothers don’t hate their children.’ Her face brightened. ‘We might not like them all the time but we always love them.’
I knew as she said it, she wasn’t interested in recriminations. All I had to do was make amends.
‘You know, no matter what, your father and I are always here for you. We are on your side. I know it might not have seemed that way when you were younger.’ She laughed. ‘God knows, I did wonder for a long time if I shouldn’t just give in and let you do what you wanted …’
‘I’m glad you didn’t. You were right.’
‘Of course I was,’ she said with a smug grin which once upon a time I would have taken huge offence at. Instead, I gave her a wry smile.
‘University was a good thing, and I did learn more than just the academic bit. That life experience helped, without it I probably wouldn’t be where I am now. If I’d just gone to the local college, I might not have ever seen the bigger picture, the wider world.’
‘Oh, I know that,’ she said hugging me, ‘but at the time, part of me kept thinking it would serve you right if I did let you get on with it and then relish saying “I told you so” when you were working in a salon in Knaresborough with three children.’
We both giggled at the image.
‘And now look at you.’ Contentment radiated across her face. ‘Top of your game. Working …’
Her words broke a dam and I had to admit the truth.
‘Mum … I think I’ve made a terrible mistake. With Felix. It’s all …’ it was suddenly so obvious, ‘a sham. We never should have got engaged. He’s my, was my best friend for so long. We’re more like brother and sister.’ I didn’t need to go into more detail with my mother but for all my complaints about not having sex, I’d never felt one millionth of desire that one furious, passionate kiss from Marcus had elicited.
Mum didn’t say anything, she just smiled serenely. ‘I just want you to be happy. Whatever your decisions. You know we’re incredibly proud of you.’
I stared at her, raising a disbelieving eyebrow.
‘Tilly! Of course we are. You’re working in one of the most well-known theatres in the world, with international stars.’
‘Really?’ I couldn’t resist asking again, just for the reassurance.
‘Truly and absolutely.’ With each word, Mum dropped a kiss on my head.
We sat in the small pool of light for another hour as Mum asked questions about which stars I’d worked with and what they were like. Did I meet Pavarotti before he died? Was Pietro as much of a womaniser as the papers claimed? And was his porn king label true or made up by the newspapers?
I went to bed, after a dinner where Mum prompted me to repeat all the same stories for Dad, feeling I’d found a friend that I didn’t know I’d lost.
Chapter 27
My journey home on the coach was enlivened by the text conversation I shared with Marcus. Mum had dropped me at the coach station in Leeds at ten that morning, laden down with an additional huge bag which contained two bulging stockings for Christelle and I and various Christmas treats including a Lindt Santa, mini Christmas Pud and mini Christmas cake each and a selection of Christmas decorations which apparently hadn’t made it onto the home tree.
As I boarded the bus, turning to wave back at Mum who wore a big smile on her face, I realised I felt happier than I had for a long time. Setting into a window seat, I made sure I could still see her and waved.
She waited until the
bus fired up its engine, the roar rattling through the seats and diesel fumes permeating down the aisle. We waved cheerfully as the bus lumbered out of the station heading towards the M1.
Reflecting on the weekend gave my conscience a sharp jab. Time for a little honesty of my own. Felix and I needed to do some talking.
Time I faced up to things. It was over and had been for a long time. I realised now that Felix and I had been play acting about the wedding. No wonder we hadn’t ever got around to doing anything about it.
At ten past ten my phone gave a strident beep.
‘Bored!’
Marcus’s text made me smile.
‘I’m on a coach, average age 103. You’re bored????’
‘Cat 5 cabling benefits?????’
‘Sounds moderately interesting. (She lied)’
‘What colour shoes are you wearing?’
‘???’
‘That’s how bored I am.’
‘Orange.’
‘No one has orange shoes.’
‘I do.’
‘Really?’
‘No not really.’
‘What can you see out the window?’
‘Motorway.’
‘What book are you reading?’
‘Ha! Latest Kathy Reichs … bought it yesterday. Your fault you put it into my head.’
‘Might borrow it from you.’
‘You’ll have a job it’s on my Kindle.’
‘We could swap Kindles.’
Now that was an interesting thought. Swapping a Kindle was akin to inviting someone into your house to peruse your bookshelves, except I had public and private bookshelves. On the Kindle, they were all one.
‘Long pause,’ prompted Marcus. ‘Illicit reading?’
‘Fifty Shades plus others.’
‘Any good?’
‘Not telling, you have to read it and come to your own conclusions. Can’t stand people making ill-informed judgements based on what other people say!’
‘High horse. I like it.’
The text marathon lasted until Watford Gap, when Marcus announced that the battery on his fancy-does-everything tablet phone was about to die.
‘See that’s what fancy technology gets you!’ I crowed back.
I didn’t get a response.
The next hour passed slowly allowing the thoughts I’d rather have ignored to slowly rise to the surface.
Crossing the threshold almost knocked me flat, as reality hit with breath-stealing clarity. From the moment I stepped inside, it was as if everything came into sharp focus making me feel suddenly old beyond my years. I think they might have called it growing up.
My relationship with Felix was over. Sadness. Regret. Hollowness. None of them could alter the unshakeable realisation. We’d both be upset but he wasn’t who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. He wasn’t right for me. Carrying on any longer would be unfair. I felt sick at the thought of having to sit down and tell him.
If I could I would have stayed on that coach for the return journey to Harrogate, except that would be running away again, not facing up to things and that was how I’d ended up in this mess in the first place.
Felix wouldn’t be home for an hour or two, although he wasn’t expecting me back until tomorrow. How would he take it? I knew he’d be upset. Now I’d made the decision I dreaded telling him. I just wanted it to be over. How long would it take us to untangle ourselves? We’d been together for five years. The flat was mine but I couldn’t just throw him out. I didn’t want to hurt him. Maybe we could stay friends. I laughed mirthlessly, that was a joke. We were more friends than anything else if the truth were told. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been intimate. Brotherly hugs, chaste pecks on the cheek or forehead were the sum total of our physical contact in recent months … years. And no wonder I suspected he was having an affair.
The frequent nights away, the constant texts on his phone. Now the idea had seeded itself in my head, it felt obvious.
And I couldn’t think about Marcus. Too soon. Too much. But that kiss haunted me along with the almost kiss at Chatsworth. The dizzying spell of his touch resonated even as I thought of it now.
As I walked towards the coat rack I stumbled, tripping over a pair of shoes. I stared down at them and froze. For a moment, it felt as if the world tilted from its axis, a kind of Dr Who moment where there was a rift in time or something. Even though my head was telling me something was wrong, I couldn’t quite compute. Yellow mustard, crocodile-skin shag-me shoes.
Slowly I walked towards the bedroom, almost weighed down with an enormous sense of dread. That horrible sensation of knowing but you had to be sure.
Low voiced murmurs were coming from the room but still I pushed open the door.
They didn’t notice me at first. Vince lay on his side smoothing back Felix’s hair from his face, the gesture so tender it felt as if a hole had been torn in my gut. Felix lay on his back, smiling up at him, his hand stroking Vince’s wrist. My stomach cramped at the overwhelming sense of togetherness of the two of them. Envy, jealousy and sadness balled together, a huge amorphous mass that sat on my lungs, making it almost impossible to suck in another breath.
I must have wheezed or something because suddenly Felix shot upright, clutching the sheet to his chest.
‘Tilly!’
I couldn’t move.
Vince moved more slowly, defiant and almost triumphant. He laid a hand on Felix’s chest as if saying ‘he’s mine’.
Nausea rose in my throat and ignoring the beseeching desperate look on Felix’s face, I wheeled and ran out of the room.
What a complete and utter idiot. How unbelievably stupid was I?
I’d always known Felix wasn’t interested in other women. I winced at my stupid smug confidence. Suddenly Felix’s recent absences, his anxiety to know where I was, when I’d be back, made an awful lot of sense.
I had to get out of there.
The lights in Jeanie’s tiny terraced cottage were thankfully on as I walked up the narrow front garden to the front door. I couldn’t quite remember the bus journey there, although I’d managed to miss the stop for her house and had to get off at the next one. Water dripped down my face, coiling down my curls and sliding down my neck. In my haste to escape I’d grabbed the most unsuitable coat, a velvet number which was now soaked through. As I stood there, my brain racing in circle after circle trying to get a foothold on sense, I knocked hard at the door, channelling some of my blistering sentiments.
Jeanie’s face registered a rainbow of emotion, surprise, horror, shiftiness and then puzzlement.
‘Tilly … what … oh my, come in. Come in.’
As I stumbled through the door, she was already peeling off my sodden coat.
‘Sweetie, what’s happened?’
I shook my head and started to laugh. ‘I’ve been such an idiot! Felix … he …’ I couldn’t get the words out, a fresh gale of nervous laughter burst out again. ‘He.’
Jeanie’s face filled with consternation and confusion, as well it might, but suddenly I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted.
‘Come on lovie, come inside.’
She led me into the lamp-lit lounge where sudden warmth enveloped me, making me realise just how cold I was. Shaking my head, I sat down in the arm chair and then promptly burst into furious angry tears.
Eventually the storm quieted and I was able to breathe easily again.
‘Sorry I’m getting everything all wet.’
‘Don’t be daft, the chair isn’t made of sugar.’ Her practical words were what I needed to hear. An anchor.
‘Sorry to turn up out of the blue. You must think I’m mad.’
‘It’s fine.’ Her body language as she half turned towards the sofa at the other side of the room made me realise there was someone else in there. I looked over and wanted to die of embarrassment.
‘Hi.’ Carlsten Kunde-Neimoth, the world’s most famous tenor, gave me a half wave.
Jeanie gave
me a half shrug and a ‘what-can-you-do’ type of smile.
My jaw dropped. ‘Holy Moly May.’ I pointed between the two of them. ‘No!’ My voice raised in wonderment. ‘No!’ My finger flicking backwards and forwards like a metronome. ‘No! You two!’
Jeanie blushed brilliant scarlet, her hands lifted in agitated flutters.
‘Wow! Didn’t see that, at all. Jeanie! You? Seriously!’
Jeanie’s mouth pursed tighter, until it resembled a turtle’s backside. At that point I realised that maybe I ought to back off a bit, my surprise possibly bordering on rude.
‘Sorry.’ I straightened up. This was after all a super-star singer who commanded world-wide respect and my boss. Aw, hell both deserved a bit more …
‘Gosh, this is a bit of a surprise. When did this … all start?’ I had a million other questions but didn’t quite know where to begin. Jeanie shacking up with a man was a turn up but one of this stature … I’d not seen it coming.
‘Carl, why don’t you go and rustle up some drinks?’
To my amazement, Mr Mega-Famous Opera Star got up and docilely trotted off to the kitchen, ducking his tall frame through the tiny doorway.
I stared at Jeanie.
‘Long story … but what about you? And don’t use this as one of your usual ignore the things you don’t want to talk about tactics.’ She wagged a finger at me.
‘I think you and Christelle are in flipping cahoots. She says that to me.’
‘Because it’s true.’ She gave me a stern stare.
I shrugged. ‘Sometimes it’s easier that way.’
‘Avoidance is all well and good but one day it bites you on the back.’
‘Bottom,’ I corrected automatically.
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Your moods have been up and down like a meteorite. I’m not stupid you know.’
I smiled sadly. ‘No, you’re never that. That’s me. I’m the stupid one.’ I ducked my head into my hands. ‘I’ve been so dumb.’
‘Stop beating yourself up and tell me what’s happened. I take it it’s Felix and I’m guessing the silly bugger’s not died or anything.’