by Sue Margolis
“I’m going to make the duvet all wet now,” she said as he pushed her down gently.
“No, I’m going to make you all wet now,” he said, slipping his hand between her legs.
“Albert, there isn’t time. I really do have to get going.”
“Shh. Relax. Come on.”
She tried to bring her knees together, but he swiftly moved his body between them. A second later he was going down on her and, try as she might, she couldn’t resist him. She closed her eyes, felt her breathing get heavier. The familiar floaty feeling began to overwhelm her.
“There you go,” he said softly.
Then the phone rang next to the bed.
“Christ, who’s that?”
“Leave it,” Albert said.
“I can’t, it might be Ossie Da Costa.”
She wriggled up the bed. Albert followed her, his head still between her legs. She tried shoving him off, but he refused to budge.
“It’s me.”
“Hi, Mum.”
“Listen, I just wanted to say—”
“Er, can you just hold on a minute?” She pushed Albert’s head, but he was too strong for her. She covered up the mouthpiece on the phone. “Albert, will you stop?” she hissed. “I’m on the phone to my mother.”
He looked up briefly, grinned at her and then carried on.
“Ooh, ooh. Oh, God.”
“What?” Estelle said. “What’s the matter? You all right?”
“Aaaah. Yeah, Mum, I’m fine. Bit of a toothache. Kept me up all night.”
“You ought to see a dentist. Why don’t you pop in and see your cousin Michael? He did my crowns. They’re perfect. And he gave me a discount.”
“Right. Mmmmm. Good idea.”
“Have you tried oil of clove?”
“Oh, yes! Yes! Yes!”
“And it still didn’t work?”
“Yes!”
“So, it did work?”
“Oh, God.”
“If it was that good, why are you still in pain? Anyway, all I was going to say was, don’t worry about collecting Jake this morning. If it’s all right with you, your dad’s going to take him to see the dinosaurs at the natural history museum. Is that OK with you?”
“Um.”
“You sure?”
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes.”
“Stephanie, you don’t sound at all right. Look, why don’t I ring cousin Michael and make the appointment?”
“No-it’s-fine-I’ll-do-it-bye.” Click. “Aaah!”
Stephanie told Albert that she really needed to go shopping. “I have to buy a new dress for my big night at the Blues Café. And after that I’m meeting Lizzie and Cass for lunch.”
He started kissing her breasts. “Hey, come on, don’t be a spoilsport. We’ve got the morning to ourselves. Why don’t we spend it fooling around?”
“I really can’t,” she said kindly. “The dress is important. And the girls are expecting me.”
He gave an easy shrug. “In that case,” he said, “I guess the only way I’m going to work off all this pent-up sexual energy is to head off to the gym.”
Her search for the perfect dress took her to a vintage clothes shop in Camden that specialized in fifties and sixties evening gowns.
It practically leaped off the rack at her: strappy, full length, made entirely of peacock-blue sequins. It clung in all the right places, and the thigh-high split was sexy but not tarty. It even had long silk gloves to match and a pair of dyed silk slingbacks. The shoes were half a size too small, but once she had undone the tiny gold buckles and lengthened the straps, they were fine. The outfit was perfect.
She’d arranged to meet Lizzie and Cass at a little Greek place on Charlotte Street, just round the corner from Cass’s office. She spent the entire tube journey there thinking about Albert. By the time she arrived, she was no nearer a decision. The only thing she knew for sure was that she and Albert shouldn’t sleep together again until she’d sorted out her feelings. Sex would put pressure on her to say something she didn’t mean. On top of that it would send Albert mixed messages, and that would be unfair and unkind.
When she took the dress out of the bag and showed it to Lizzie and Cass, they agreed it was fab and that Sidney Doucette would be bowled over.
“You know this really is a big deal,” Cass said. “You auditioning for Sidney Doucette. I’d hang on to your hat, if I were you. Ossie Da Costa must have something pretty amazing in mind for you.”
Lizzie agreed. “God, Steph, this time next year you could be really famous.”
Stephanie said she couldn’t bear to tempt fate and please could they talk about something else.
Over moussaka and a bottle of house red, they admired Cass’s new handbag—Anya Hindmarch with a picture of a Jack Russell wearing a tiara—and discussed Lizzie’s preparations for the twins’ birthday party the following week: dinosaurs or Thunderbirds theme? They also deliberated over Albert’s proposal.
“Go for it,” Cass said. “Nobody in their right mind should walk away from such great sex. Sex like that feeds you, nourishes the soul. It energizes your whole being, makes you feel young, vital.” By now she was gazing into the distance, warming to her theme. “It gives you a reason to carry on with this miserable, fetid existence we call life. Take him, Steph. Take him, do you hear? And hold on to him. Never let him go. Not ever.”
“Bloody hell, we have got to find you a man,” Stephanie said, laughing.
Lizzie was looking at Stephanie. “Unless of course you wait for Frank Waterman to make a move,” she ventured.
“God, how many more times? Look, he’s an actor. They all go in for that flirty, luvvie thing. It doesn’t mean he fancies me. And even if he does …”
“There’s no even about it,” Cass broke in. “He does.”
“OK, let’s say he does. Where does that get me? I spend practically every waking moment trying to work out if I could have a future with Albert, and even if I couldn’t, Frank’s engaged. End of story.”
Cass drew on her cigarette and looked as if she were about to launch into her the-only-way-to-get-what-you-want-in-this-world-is–to-take-it speech, but Lizzie got in first. “The way I see it, there’s nothing as important as a child being with both parents. I mean, of course being in love is important, but Albert’s right—the passion does wear off eventually.”
Cass frowned and exchanged a glance with Stephanie. Then she turned to Lizzie. “But you and Dom still do it, don’t you?” she said gently.
“Of course we do it,” Lizzie shot back with what was clearly a nervous laugh. “All I’m saying is, we’re not in that first flush anymore, and the sex isn’t like it was. The twins wear me out. He’s away all the time, and when he’s home, he’s exhausted. More often than not he’ll sleep in the spare room if he comes in late, so as not to wake me. But that’s normal. I mean, you ask any couple with young children.”
Stephanie and Cass exchanged another glance.
“Lizzie,” Steph said gently. “It’s none of our business, but is everything OK between you two?”
Lizzie’s body language was suddenly taut and defensive. She couldn’t look either of them in the eye. Instead she was concentrating on running her finger round the rim of her wineglass.
“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re fine. Coping with Dom’s job and bringing up kids is hard, that’s all. Things will perk up soon. Once Dom stops traveling so much.” There were tears in her eyes as she got up to go to the loo.
Cass lit an after-lunch ciggie. Then she turned to Stephanie and said it was perfectly clear that Dom was playing away from home. “What do we do?” Stephanie was in no doubt that they should do nothing.
“What,” Cass said, flicking ash into the ashtray, “you mean I shouldn’t tell her about Dom making all those phone calls on New Year’s Eve?”
“Absolutely not,” Stephanie said. “First, you can’t be sure he was phoning a woman, and second, it’s none of our business. Lizzie and Dom have to sort this out for themselves.
All we can do is be there for her if she needs us.”
Cass grunted. She was a natural confronter. When she faced problems in business, she never ran away. Her instinct was to tackle them head-on and find solutions. She was the same if she thought a friend was in trouble. She couldn’t bear having to pull back. “It makes me feel so bloody useless. God, Steph, I just can’t imagine Lizzie and Dom splitting up.” Cass was looking quite distressed now.
Stephanie reached across the table and patted her hand. “No, nor can I,” she said. “Nor can I.”
Sitting on the tube on her way to the Park Royal, Stephanie realized just how worried she was about Lizzie. Much as she adored Cass, she had a special bond with Lizzie. They’d grown up together. Now they were both mothers. Stephanie would never forget the way Lizzie had dropped everything to come and take care of her after Jake was born. Lizzie had the warmest, kindest heart of anybody she knew. The idea of her being unhappy, even for a moment, was just unthinkable.
That evening, Estelle and Harry brought Jake home, put him to bed and waited for Stephanie to get back from the Park Royal. She’d made a special effort to be early because she knew they were going out to eat with friends at a smart new French place in town. Harry was fed up because he’d been made to put on a tie “to go and eat food I can barely see,” and Estelle—who was debuting her brand-new “would you believe it I’m down to a size sixteen?” silk trouser suit—kept interrogating Stephanie about Grandma Lilly’s gentleman caller. She was desperate to find out more about him. “But you know how touchy your grandmother is with me. The minute I say anything, she’ll accuse me of interfering. Look, she talks to you. Maybe you could find out what’s going on.” Stephanie promised she would try.
Estelle was also upset because they weren’t going to be able to make the Blues Café on Thursday. Harry’s Masonic lodge was holding its annual ladies’ night. “But we are so proud of you, darling. Believe me, this Sidney Doucette is going to snap you up.”
“For once, I agree with your mother,” Harry said. Then they both gave her a hug.
Before they left, Estelle took Stephanie to one side. “So, how are you and Albert getting on?”
“Fine.” She hoped it had come out as laid-back as she’d intended. Anything that smacked of enthusiasm, like a “really well,” would have Estelle on the phone to the caterers before you could say “phyllo parcels.”
“That’s good.” A beat, then: “Just fine? I mean, fine’s fine, but you know … I was wondering.”
“What, Mum, what were you wondering?”
“Well, this is the longest you two have been together since Verona and I just thought, you know … that maybe there was something going on. I know I’ve said it before, but Albert is so lovely. He’s good-looking, charming, witty—”
“He lives in California.”
Estelle pounced, eyes gleaming: “Ah, so you have been talking about it?”
“About what?” Stephanie said, trying to deflect her now.
“About getting together?”
“Not really.”
“What do you mean, ‘not really’? Either you have or you haven’t.”
“Look, Mum, can we leave it? Albert said some stuff, that’s all, but I don’t know how I feel.”
“OK, sweetheart,” Estelle said, rearranging Stephanie’s fringe. “It’s your decision, but it would be so wonderful if you made a go of it. The three of you would be a proper family. Boys need dads. I know you are perfectly capable of taking him to football when he’s older, or going with him to choose his first car, but believe me, it’s his dad he’ll want.”
“Mum, I can’t marry Albert just so that Jake has somebody to go to football with.”
“Of course you can’t, and you are a wonderful mother. If you decide to carry on bringing him up alone, I know Jake will never want for anything, least of all love, but I’m old-fashioned. I happen to believe that children should have two parents to love them, that’s all.”
She smiled at Estelle. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve ever told me I was a wonderful mother.”
“It is?” Estelle shrugged. “I suppose it just never occurred to me that you needed telling.”
She wasn’t too bothered that Harry and Estelle weren’t going to be at the Blues Café on Thursday. They meant well, but their kvetching would only have made her more nervous. On the other hand, she felt it would be good to have some support. She decided to ask Albert to come. It was strange. She’d known him over three years and in all that time he’d never heard her sing onstage. “I know, principessa,” he said when she brought it up, “and I’d really love to come. But who would babysit Jake?”
He was right. This was a problem. Estelle and Harry had the Masonic do, Lizzie was going to open house at the twins’ school, Cass was out of town for a couple of days and poor old Mrs. M. had gone back into hospital for her hip operation.
“You know, perhaps I’ll invite some of the guys over to play poker that night.” Her stomach tightened. The rational part of her knew that Albert had to stay at home to babysit Jake, but she had this nagging feeling that he would rather be with his mates than come to hear her sing.
“Albert? You would come if you could, wouldn’t you?”
“Hey, of course I would. What kind of a question is that? You feeling OK?”
“Yes, I’m fine. S’pose it’s nerves. I shouldn’t be nervous, though. It’s only a bloody audition. I’ve done thousands without having my hand held.”
“I’ll be thinking of you, principessa. You know I will.”
“I know you will. Thanks.” Then she kissed him on the cheek.
That evening he stayed for dinner. Afterward, Albert scraped plates while Stephanie loaded the dishwasher. “So,” he said, “where’s your head at?” She knew he was talking about the “us” thing. She said she’d been thinking about little else, but asked him not to rush her. She could see the disappointment in his face. Albert was a bit like Cass. Once he made up his mind to do something, he wanted it settled there and then. Waiting didn’t come easily to him. “So, I guess it’s too soon to suggest moving in?” he said, handing her a pile of plates.
“Just a bit,” she said gently. “I also think that maybe we should stop having sex while I try and sort out how I feel. Sex just feels like too much pressure and it’s going to send you all the wrong signals.”
“Oh, come on. Signals schmignals. I have a thick skin, I’ll cope.”
“Yes, but what about me?” she said with a soft laugh. “I won’t cope. You’ll end up wearing me down.”
He shrugged and said whatever she wanted was all right by him.
After he’d gone she went upstairs to check on Jake. He was lying on his back, arms spread out, making little chewing motions with his mouth. The floor beside his bed was littered with his drawings. The landing light was shining and she could make them out quite clearly. She picked one up. There were three wobbly circles next to each other, each with the usual stringy arms and legs. Albert had labeled them: Mommy, Daddy, Jake. She looked back at Jake. “Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, stroking his cheek, “what should I do? What should I do?”
As she stood brushing her teeth, she decided to try and forget about Albert for a few hours and get a good night’s sleep.
The blue dress was lying on her bed. Seeing it gave her another attack of nerves. She’d lost count of the number of auditions she’d done over the years, but she’d never done one as important as this, in front of a major hitter like Sidney Doucette. She knew that Cass and Lizzie were right. He wouldn’t be coming to hear her if Ossie Da Costa didn’t have something pretty remarkable in mind for her. OK, Albert might be right and it could all come to nothing, but whatever happened, the stakes had never been higher. She sat there, slowly running her fingers over the blue sequins. Then, daring herself to imagine what the future just might have in store, she picked it up, went over to the full-length mirror and stood, holding the dress in front of her. She could hear the mus
ic to “Paper Moon” in her head. Her body began swaying in time.
“… it wouldn’t be make-believe if you believed in me …”
The next morning she phoned Grandma Lilly to say she would call in on her way to work.
When she arrived, the main door downstairs was open because somebody was making a delivery to another flat. Stephanie went in, took the lift to the third floor and rang Lilly’s bell. No answer. She rang a second time, keeping her finger on the bell for several seconds. Still nothing. Stephanie bent down and pushed open the letter-box flap. From inside she could hear music. Correction: what she could hear was an apparently random selection of electronic atonal sounds, which sounded nothing like music. She screwed up her face and carried on listening. It reminded her of the stuff they played in her local health food shop—the kind of thing dolphins tapped their flippers to. She couldn’t work it out. Lilly was into the big bands, Andy Williams, a bit of Ella.
Stephanie was in no doubt that had he been able to hear this racket from his watery grave, Glenn Miller would have done a 360-degree turn. “Gran,” Stephanie called through the letter box, “it’s me.” No response. She decided the only thing to do was let herself in. Stephanie and Estelle both carried keys to Lilly’s flat in case of an emergency. As she opened the door, she called out again to let Lilly know she was there, but all she got was more synthesized squawking.
She walked down the hall, the music getting louder. It was coming from the living room. “Gran! It’s me! I let myself in. What on earth are you listening to?” The living room door was open. She knew she shouldn’t have stood watching. Apart from being rude, she was going to frighten the life out of Lilly when she finally noticed her, but Stephanie couldn’t resist it.
Lilly was standing, eyes closed, in the middle of her red-and-gold-swirly-carpeted living room, dressed in black silk Chinese pajamas. As the music played she turned slowly to the left, held out her right hand and gently rotated her palm downward. Then she turned to the right and repeated the action. She was clearly practicing her tai chi and, from what Stephanie could see, with more than a little grace. She carried on watching as Lilly shifted her weight onto her left foot, turned to the right and brought her hands in front of her, their backs touching. Then she lost her balance and opened her eyes. “Omigod, Stephanie,” she gasped, slapping her hand to her chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack. Why didn’t you ring the bell?”