by Carrie Adams
“So. We thought the beach.”
More silence.
“Caribbean. In May.”
“That’s term time. You can’t take them out of school in the middle of a term, Jimmy.”
“I thought in exceptional circumstances you can. Family stuff.”
“They mean bereavement, not a jolly. Amber has exams in June, Lulu is already—I mean, catching up is difficult, and Maddy has been picked for the football team.”
“RGS has a football team?”
I ignored him. “Can’t you do it in the Easter holidays?”
“It’s too expensive to get everyone out there and rooms…”
Well, don’t look at me. Mother isn’t going to pay for your second wedding. Bad luck. “Think of all the money you’ll be saving on fairy lights,” I said.
Amber sniggered. Back in my camp. Then she remembered. “What about the band?”
“We’ve let them go.”
“What? Dad! I’ve worked…” She ran her hand through her hair, trying to control her disappointment. It had been a surprise. The song had been a surprise. Even now she didn’t want to ruin it for her father, although he was ruining it for her.
“Jimmy, we’ve talked nothing but weddings for days. You can understand why they’re a little”—God, I could wrap a frying pan around his head—“upset.”
“What about our dresses?”
“You won’t need them on the beach. It’ll be too hot. You can wear swimsuits.”
Maddy and Lulu gazed at me with wide, sorrowful eyes, and I knew they were mentally replacing their beautiful fairy frocks with dark blue standard-issue Speedos. Make it better, Mummy. Make it better. Amber looked at me too. Make it better, Mummy. Make it better. Think, think, think.
“Okay. Well, you’re still having the engagement party, right?”
Jimmy nodded.
“Well, can’t the girls be bridesmaids at that?”
“With no bride?” asked Maddy.
“A minor detail, darling. She’ll be there, the bride-to-be. You could be bride-to-be-maids.”
They didn’t go wild for it, but I wasn’t thrown out of court either. “And I’m sure Tessa wouldn’t object to some flower-throwing on the beach. You could get to do it twice!” I turned to Amber. “And I bet there’ll be dancing and music at the party. There’s never been a Kent party without live music, ever. Right, Jimmy?” I glared at him.
“Of course there’ll be dancing.”
“And live music?” I said pointedly.
He frowned, then nodded slowly. “And…live…music.”
“See? Everything’s fine.”
“Yes, it is! Live music, didn’t I tell you? A great band, a great band.” All right, shut up now, just in case you can’t find one at the last minute! The rebellion calmed. Jimmy and I walked through to the kitchen.
“What the hell was that about?” said Jimmy.
“I can’t tell you, but you’d better get a band now. And you’d better tell Tessa—and fast.”
“The engagement party was supposed to be just for mates, Bea.”
“Tough shit. You don’t build a bonfire in front of your children, then refuse to light it at Guy Fawkes. I know exactly what dress Amber wants to wear and it will cost you a small fortune, and the girls just want lots and lots of netting. Harrods, Sally, fourth floor. It’ll be done in minutes.”
“Oh, thank you, Bea.”
“I’m not doing it, Jimmy. You have to.”
He looked as if I’d slapped him. It was actually quite funny. But it didn’t make me laugh. Then he hugged me. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’d be getting married at all if it wasn’t for you.”
Boy, do you know how to make a girl feel good!
“Thank you, Bea, again and again and again.”
BETWEEN US, WE PULLED IT off. The engagement party became the wedding, and the wedding was relocated to a beach at some unspecified date in the future, depending on deals. Tessa found a band. Which didn’t surprise me: working in the music business, she must have some uses. And I remained sober. Sometimes I felt worse than any hangover had made me feel. I was shaky. I sweated profusely and had a hacking cough. I went through a box of sugar-free Smints a day and a lot of V8. But I didn’t drink.
Finally, the weekend of the big event arrived. I packed the girls into the car on Friday morning with their bags. I dropped them off at school, then drove on to Jimmy’s to hand over the recently ironed dresses so they wouldn’t get crumpled. He was suited and booted, devilishly handsome with his salt-and-pepper hair and blue eyes.
“I can’t wait to see them all dressed up,” he said, taking the dresses from me and throwing them over the banister. My heart sank, but I bit my lip. “Thanks, Bea.”
“Amber’s paraded around the house in hers every evening since you bought it. It’s almost scary how good she looks in it.” Don’t nag. Don’t nag. “You’ll hang it up, won’t you?”
“’Course, right now.”
Part of me longed to ask if I could come to the party too. Just to see her. I was feeling so strong I thought I could cope.
“I’ll make sure lots of photos are taken,” said Jimmy, as if preempting me.
No. The ex-wife does not go to the ball. What was I thinking? “Have a wonderful time, Jimmy. Don’t let Amber drink.”
“She doesn’t even like the taste.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And she’s never kissed a boy either.”
Jimmy blocked his ears. “I don’t want to know.”
“Don’t worry, he seems nice.”
“I’m glad you like him.”
“I do. Well, I’d better be off. Have a great time.”
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Good. Off to meet a friend for breakfast, so better go.”
He leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I’ll drop them back on Sunday.”
I waved a casual, whatever, hand and walked away.
FROM THERE IT ALL WENT steadily downhill. First I got a ticket. A knock like fifty quid hurts me. Then I ran out of petrol. I was furious—how stupid was that? Carmen, bless her, rescued me with a can of unleaded and a coffee and followed me to the petrol station, where my card was refused.
By the time we walked into the café, I felt as if I’d done an assault course, and eyed an almond croissant with lust.
“I’m so sorry,” I said again, watching Carmen pay for the fruit salad and black coffee.
“Stop it. And if you need cash, I’ve got that too.”
“It must be some mistake. I can’t have reached my overdraft limit already. I haven’t been out.”
We carried the tray to a table in the window and I dug out the sticky plastic fork from the pot of fruit salad.
“So what are you going to do to keep yourself sane this weekend?” she asked.
“I was thinking lobotomy.”
“Isn’t that the carpool?”
“Twice around the park with Anna Karenina on the iPod, followed by the boxed set of Six Feet Under. Reflect my mood.”
“Oh, my God, that sounds like bliss.” Sounded suicidal to me. Carmen took a bite of her croissant. “What’s this boyfriend like?” She waited for my response, but I was staring at the door. “Bea?”
“I don’t believe it. I was just talking about her.”
Carmen looked around. “Who?”
“See that woman? That’s so weird…She was my maid of honor.”
“So why are you hiding in my armpit?”
I pulled back. “I haven’t seen her since Amber was born. We used to have such a laugh after work, but it got harder and I had to get home so Jimmy could go off to another bollocks meeting that wouldn’t lead to anything. She gave up on me eventually.”
“Go and say hello.”
“I can’t.”
“For God’s sake. Old friends are vital, Bea. I’d be a nutcase without mine.”
I looked at her, embarrassed that to me she was an old friend. Was five years at the s
chool gates my criterion now? “You’re right,” I said, feeling momentarily bullish. I stood up and walked over to Suzie’s table. She looked exactly the same and I couldn’t help smiling as I approached. “Suzie?”
She squinted against the glare of sunshine behind me. “Hi.”
“It’s been so long, I can’t believe it. How are you?”
She glanced at her friend, then back at me. “Good, good, really good.”
“Honestly, I was talking about you only a few days ago.”
“To?”
“Jimmy. We were wondering what had happened to you.”
“Um, well, um, got married, had two children, um…I still run our business.”
“Wow, a business.” I felt the judgment cut through me. Don’t ask, please don’t ask what I do. “What business?”
“What about you?”
We had both spoken at the same time. I refused to answer her question. “So you and your husband run a business?” I said, cutting her off a second time.
“Well, um…” Her friend touched her hand. “Actually, my husband, um…He died last year.”
I crouched down, the last fifteen years forgotten, and took her hand in mine. “Oh, my God, Suzie, I’m so sorry—”
“Look, um, this is going to sound very rude, but I don’t know who you are. I can’t remember—were we at school together?”
I pulled my hand away. “It’s Bea. Bea Frazier, Bea Kent…Jimmy and Bea.”
Her jaw dropped two inches, and I saw the truth in that second before she had time to hide it.
“Bea, Jesus, I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you…Your hair has…um, changed. You look great. It used to be a—”
“A black bob,” I said, tucking my black bob behind my ear.
“It’s been a long time,” said Suzie, sounding defeated. “So, how’s Jimmy? You had a son?”
“Three daughters.”
“Wow. I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you, I’m not really myself yet.”
I didn’t want her to apologize. I was unrecognizable. I’d just forgotten it. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your…” I tried to smile. “I’m so sorry about your husband.”
“I’m glad you’ve still got Jimmy. He was always a great catch. Look, I’m sorry, Bea, really…Let’s do this properly some time. Have you got a card?” I shook my head. Nondescript mothers don’t have cards. “Take mine, call me. It would be lovely to catch up and see Jimmy again.”
I walked back to Carmen. Actually, it felt more like a limp. The embossed stiff card bit into my palm.
“How was that?”
“Carmen, I’m so sorry—I’d completely forgotten. The bloody plumber’s coming…He’s outside the house. I’ve got to go.” I picked up my bag and rushed out. “I’ll call you later, sorry.” Carmen held up my fork. “What about your breakfast?”
“No time,” I replied, backing away.
“Look after yourself, Bea.”
Look after myself? I spent my days looking after people. Looking after myself was just another chore. It’s so much more refreshing to let it all go. Sometimes on my weekends alone I didn’t get dressed, I didn’t brush my teeth or wash. In fact, I didn’t do anything but drink my calorific quota until I was sick, then delight in watching it come up again. Puking rendered me calorie-neutral and I loved it. That was looking after myself. For some reason, I could never make myself be sick when I’d binged on food, but white wine and vodka was a different matter. Liquid, it seemed, was fine. The freedom of total irresponsibility. The joy of stumbling chaos, that was how I liked to look after myself. My reward scheme. “I will,” I said. “I promise.”
THERE WAS NO PLUMBER. OBVIOUSLY. I’d just needed to get away. Then again, two of the three deliveries I had organized for that day didn’t turn up either. My mother popped in to gloat. The Insinkerator ate a spoon. And the fuse box blew. I know these things aren’t the end of the world, but everything takes time to organize, and it’s dull and repetitive and then you have to go and do it all over again. Yesterday I might have coped better. But today something had happened that I couldn’t ignore.
I had been kidding myself. A far greater distance existed between me and my old self than I had let myself believe. A single stone was nothing compared to how far I had to travel. I had seen myself in Suzie’s eyes. I was a fat woman full of failed potential. It was all the excuse I needed. I was stronger than I had been a few weeks ago, but not that strong. The children were miles from harm. I wanted to fall into the abyss. Calorie-neutral, here I come.
I CAME AROUND IN THE kitchen at three minutes past four in the morning. The following day I felt too shocking to speak. Which was fine, since I had no one to speak to. I only went out to get some healthy food to redress the balance. Organic mush in a cardboard box and a smoothie called a detox from a nice café in Kentish Town. I walked there. To clear my head.
“Bea?”
I turned and peered through my dark glasses.
“I thought it was you.”
I was being slow on the uptake.
“Nick. Caspar’s dad.”
“Oh, hi, sorry. Miles away.”
“Hangover?” He was smiling.
“That obvious?”
“It’s not sunny and the detox smoothie kind of gives it away.”
“Hm” was all I managed.
“Very brave of you to do it twice in a row.”
“Hm?” was all I managed again.
“The big shindig tonight. The Amber and Caspar show. Though I don’t think James and Tessa know that yet.”
He couldn’t see that I was frowning, because my glasses were so big. But I was. He was a bit familiar, wasn’t he? And since when was Caspar going to the engagement party?
“Fran’s having her hair done and, of course, the girls wanted in on the act, so they’ve got dresses too. It was a brilliant idea of yours. Cora, our two, your two all in matching fairy dresses. Can’t wait.”
Fran? Cora? Who were all these bloody people?
“Her godchild on the guitar, her stepchild-to-be on the mic—it’s going to be one hell of a party. I’ve never seen Tessa so happy. I’m so glad too. She deserves it.”
“She does,” I said. Why did I say that? I don’t even know the bloody woman. Lady-child. She-thing. “Godchild?”
“Caspar. Best godmother in the world is Tessa King. She’ll be a great stepmother too. Amber is so happy that you like her. Makes it all easier. Anyway, gotta go. I strongly suggest a sleep for you. And I’ll see you later at the ball.”
I made a thumbs-up sign, because I didn’t dare speak. Caspar? Caspar was Tessa’s godson? My daughter and her future step-god-brother, and everyone was okay with this! And Amber, pretending Tessa and I were bosom buddies so she could be with Caspar? There I’d been, thinking it was because she was trying to protect me. This wasn’t about me. I was just a hindrance. A bore. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if they could all dance into the sunset without having to deal with the ex. No one gave a shit about me. I was not only unrecognizable, I was replaceable. No, that wasn’t even it. I’d already been replaced. Sleep, Nick, you drippy romantic bore? Sleep? I needed more than fucking sleep!
“One detox smoothie to go,” called the boy behind the counter.
Too darn late.
Twelve
Young Love
“WHO’S GOT THE HAIR DRYER?”
“Can I borrow someone’s mascara?”
“Shit, I’ve got a run in my stocking. Tessa! You got any spares?”
I stood up. Fran, my best friend from university and Caspar’s mum, walked into our room wearing her underwear and a single thigh-high stocking. The other lay limply, like Peter Pan’s shadow, across her palm. She stopped. “Bloody hell! You look phenomenal!”
Claudia followed her in, holding her head. “Help, my hair’s gone frizzy! Shit, Tessa, you look like a film star.”
Billie came out of the shower room. “Masca—” The word got lost in a long wolf-whistle.
I smiled.
“I’ve always wanted to be able to do that,” said Fran.
“Give us a twirl,” said Billie. I did. I had decided to go for a very bridal red. Scarlet, actually. The dress was pure silk and I was sure it wouldn’t survive the night. But, hell, wedding dresses aren’t supposed to. I knew this wasn’t my actual wedding dress, since that was going to be a white cotton kaftan (don’t be fooled, I wasn’t talking a fifteen-pound job from Portobello market: it would be Heidi Klein’s finest, with expert beading, sequins, and pearls, suggestively see-through with a matching white bikini), but somehow the red evening gown had begun to feel like that. Now that everyone was here, running around in a state of semi-undress, reminding me of a million nights in our youth, I was glad Bea had made us mark the event. We’d thought we were doing it for the girls, but here, with my friends, I knew it was as much for me and James.
“Is it just me or is it strange that I have James’s ex-wife to thank for tonight?”
“Is she coming?” asked Billie.
“We didn’t ask her,” I said, pulling a face. “She and I haven’t actually met. But I kind of wish we’d shown her the same magnanimity she’s shown us and invited her.”
“Nick’s met her,” said Fran. “Says she’s great. Quite liberal, too. She let Amber stay over at ours.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“I think a mutually respectful distance is probably better than becoming bosom buddies. You don’t want to find out too much,” said Claudia.
I threw a pair of knickers at her. “There’s nothing to find out.”
“Gross! Are those yours?”
“Yes! I’m going commando. There isn’t room for pants in this dress.” It was strapless, cut low at the back and with a plunging sweetheart neckline that, courtesy of industrial scaffolding, kept the bosoms up. The bodice was cinched so tightly I could breathe only in gasps. The skirt fell to the floor, and a slit up the back let me move and, more important, hinted at long pins beneath. It was completely over the top. But if I couldn’t be over the top tonight, when could I? And, anyway, you hadn’t seen my future stepdaughter’s dress. My hair had been coiffed forties’-style, my lips were scarlet, my skin pale, and my eyes lined with liquid black eyeliner. Ava Gardner was what I was going for, and, by the look on my friends’ faces, it was working. We giggled. Maddy and Lulu were right. Dressing up was fun.