by Lucy Diamond
‘Listen, if you’re not doing anything tomorrow,’ Robert said, looking self-conscious all of a sudden, ‘maybe we could meet up and do something together? I owe you lunch at least, for finding Bella.’
‘Oh, you’re quite all right,’ Ruth began automatically, but then her thoughts snagged on his question. Well, she thought in the next moment, it wouldn’t do any harm to meet up again, would it? Just as friends, obviously. Just for lunch. ‘Okay,’ she blurted out daringly. ‘I mean . . . Yes. Let’s. Lunch would be nice.’
As she told the others this bit back at the café, glossing over its significance – just two single parents meeting up, that’s all, more of a convenience thing than anything else – she could feel Evie’s eyes light up with interest. ‘So where’s he from then? Is he local?’
‘No, Henley. They’re just down in Cornwall until New Year.’
They were all still in the kitchen, the girls helping Ed make a batch of clementine muffins, which already smelled heavenly. Hugo was deep in a very serious game of chess with Victoria, but judging by the smirk on his face, he had a devilish plot coming together. ‘Scholar’s Mate,’ he said just then, swiping Victoria’s king with a flourish. ‘My dad taught me that.’
It gave Ruth a pang as she remembered how Hugo and Tim could play chess for hours together, their dark heads bowed towards one another as they slugged it out. Ruth’s gaze lingered on her son’s flushed, triumphant face as he and Victoria shook hands, and she realized that she was done with scoring points over her ex. Life was too short. Too precious.
‘Maybe we could set up Skype tomorrow – you could have a game with Dad that way,’ she said tentatively, touching Hugo’s arm.
He was already racking up the pieces for a second game, but halted, a black knight in hand, as he swung round towards her. ‘Really? Awesome! Thanks, Mum.’ He grinned as he carefully set the knight in position, and Ruth felt a chunk of the ice that had been lodged in her heart suddenly melt and trickle away. There, she thought to herself. You did a nice thing for the boy you love. What’s more, it had been surprisingly painless.
Evie, meanwhile, seemed intent on continuing their conversation – or, rather, re-enacting the Spanish Inquisition, fainting episode or no fainting episode. ‘Oooh! Henley. That’s not too far from you, is it?’ she said meaningfully, as if this was some teenage crush Ruth was describing, rather than two adults arranging to meet in a perfectly ordinary way.
Annoyingly Ruth felt herself blush. ‘I suppose it’s not,’ she said with feigned artlessness, although yes, okay, she had already calculated the driving distance, if she was being completely honest with herself. Not for romantic reasons at all. His wife had died, for goodness’ sake, so there was no way Robert would even be thinking about romance right now. Neither, of course, was she. ‘Anyway,’ she said, seeing Evie’s mouth open with another nosy question, ‘it’s great to see you, Ed. And lovely to meet you, Victoria. No offence to my sister, obviously, but I can’t tell you how happy I am that she won’t be left in sole charge of the Christmas dinner now.’
‘Oi! Offence taken,’ Evie said, throwing a bit of clementine peel at her, but she was grinning. ‘Sorry,’ she added in a low voice. ‘Was I being a bit unsubtle there?’
Ruth gave her a look. ‘Don’t get excited,’ she warned. ‘Seriously. It’s not like that. It’s only lunch. And, anyway, his wife has died.’
‘Right,’ said Evie, eyes wide. There was a pause of at least two seconds before she leaned forward eagerly and asked, ‘So . . . what are you going to wear?’
What was she going to wear? Good question. Ruth found herself stumped the following morning, as Evie’s words floated back into her head. Sitting on her bed, robed in towels following her shower, she examined the contents of her suitcase with a sinking feeling. She hadn’t thought to pack anything other than the most sensible, practical outfits for their trip: big, chunky jumpers and her oldest jeans, with one nice blouse and a few scraps of make-up for Christmas Day itself. Mind you, she reminded herself, the first morning they’d met, Robert had seen her in her pyjamas and dressing gown, pink in the cheeks and at her most indignant. If that hadn’t put him off asking her for lunch, then maybe he wouldn’t care too much if she wore faded jeans with a paint-mark near one hem.
Not that she was dressing up for him anyway, Ruth reminded herself. She just wanted to wear something nice for lunch out – that was all. Would Evie, or anyone else here, notice if she wore her Christmas Day blouse today as well as tomorrow? Oh, so what if they did? Maybe she shouldn’t stress about it so much. It’s only clothes, she imagined Evie saying. Precisely.
Her phone rang just then, making her jump. Tim – Mobile, she read onscreen and hesitated. Somehow being here in Cornwall had tempered her feelings for her ex. The fury had cooled a fraction, enough that she no longer felt the same need to punish him with silence and closed doors. She kept thinking about how Robert’s wife had died, and how he didn’t have a choice about phone calls from her any more. She’d also come to realize, if rather grudgingly, that her children still needed Tim, even if she didn’t.
She took the call. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, it’s me. It’s Tim.’
Those two extra words at the end, words he’d never needed to say during all their years of marriage, stabbed her through with sadness. He sounded nervous, she thought. Probably bracing himself for another bollocking. The bollocking she might well have given him, before today.
She took a deep breath. ‘Hi,’ she replied. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes.’ He hesitated. ‘I’m sorry to bother you. I know you said just to call on Christmas Day itself, but . . . well. How are things? How are the children?’ His voice cracked. ‘I’m finding it really strange without them.’
‘They’re fine. Everything’s fine,’ she said after a moment. It was on the tip of her tongue to mention their lunch plans – out with another man, Tim, I’ve moved on, you know! – but she held it back. Don’t go there, Ruth. You’re better than that. ‘I was going to ring you actually,’ she added, the words coming out in a rush. ‘We were wondering if maybe we could set up Skype, so you and Hugo could play chess. And you can see them on Christmas Day that way, too.’
She heard him swallow and he didn’t reply immediately. Then he said, ‘I’d really like that. I’d love that. Thank you.’ There was a pause and then he added, ‘I’ve had a few texts from Hugo. He sounds happy. Said something about a dog you’d found.’
‘Yes.’ She hesitated. ‘Yes, he seems to have come out of himself a bit more. They all have. Maybe they just needed a break.’ Maybe I did, too.
‘I’m glad.’ There was another pause. ‘How about you?’
She put her free arm around herself, suddenly chilly to be sitting there only in a couple of towels, a cold drip of water escaping from her wet hair and trickling down her neck. ‘I’m okay. Listen,’ she went on, just as he said, ‘I’ve been thinking.’
They both fell silent.
‘You first,’ she said.
‘Well . . . it’s just that . . . Look, I’m really sorry, Ruth. About everything. I let you all down, and I hold my hands up. But if we can work through this, and find a better way to go about things, so that everyone’s happier . . .’ He broke off. ‘I just miss the children. I miss knowing what they’re doing. I don’t want to be a weekend dad who doesn’t engage with their lives.’
‘I don’t want that, either,’ she said, and it was true. Tim might have done some terrible things to her, but that was their business. And of course she had felt like retaliating – she had felt like killing him with her own bare hands – but being here, with the luxury of space and time to think, had made her realize that she also wanted him to have a good relationship with the children. It would be the best thing for all of them. ‘I . . .’ The words were hard to get out. Peace and goodwill to all men, she thought to herself. Even cheating ex-husbands who might not fully deserve it. ‘I’m sorry I’ve shut you out lately,’ she said even
tually.
She heard him exhale, a rushing sound of relief in her ear. ‘I deserved it,’ he said. ‘I know I hurt you. But I don’t want us to be enemies for evermore.’
‘Nor do I,’ she said. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and straightened up. Her skin looked better for all the fresh air, and the bags under her eyes were already less pronounced. She could hear Thea screeching with giggles downstairs, and was surprised to feel a faint optimism reignite inside her. ‘Don’t worry, Tim,’ she said. ‘We’ll sort it out.’ Then, conscious of the power she still held, she relinquished it in one last peace offering. It was nearly Christmas, after all. ‘Do you want to speak to the children, by the way? I know they’re dying to talk to you.’
‘I’d love to,’ he said.
And as she yelled for Hugo to come and take the phone – It’s Dad! – and heard three distinct whoops of joy, she felt lighter inside than she had done in a long while. Forgiveness made you feel better, she realized. So did generosity.
She towel-dried her hair and smiled tentatively at herself in the mirror. Yes, she would wear her nice blouse today, she decided, and she’d put on a bit of mascara and lipstick, too. And why not?
Later on, as she and the children were heading out to meet Robert and his children, her phone buzzed with a new text. Her mum again: Hi love, not sure you received first text. Just checking all okay. Tell Evie I have emailed her Delia’s Xmas dinner instructions in case she gets stuck re turkey. Hope you are having a lovely time, thinking about you, M&D xxx
Ruth smiled to herself and fired back a quick reply while the children clambered into the car: Hi, Mum, everything’s great. I think we’re all set for a wonderful Christmas. Love to Dad, speak to you both tomorrow. R, H, I & T xxx.
Chapter Nine
Evie
It felt as if Christmas had come early, waking up on Christmas Eve and remembering that Ed was there in bed beside me. So much so that I almost burst gleefully into a rousing rendition of the Hallelujah chorus. ‘You’re still here! It wasn’t all a dream,’ I said into the warmth of his neck, hooking a leg over his.
His arms snaked drowsily around me. ‘God, it’s good to be back,’ he murmured, his fingers drifting up my T-shirt in a very distracting way. ‘There’s no place like home.’
I had just yanked off said T-shirt and was hurling it wantonly across the room when a thunderous banging started on the door. ‘Aunty Weevie, Aunty Weevie, can we have pancakes now?’ came Thea’s voice. ‘You did thay!’
Ed and I looked at each other. ‘We’re still asleep!’ he yelled back and we both snorted with childish giggles.
‘No, you are NOT,’ Thea said. There was no pulling the wool over her eyes. ‘And you did thay,’ she repeated, as if I’d signed a declaration in my own blood.
‘I did say,’ I agreed, with a sigh. ‘Give me a minute, and I’ll be right out.’ Then I rolled on top of Ed and kissed him very thoroughly, morning-breath and all. ‘That’s to keep you going until later,’ I told him, before reluctantly extricating myself. Then I got up and the room went a bit swimmy. ‘Whoa.’
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. ‘Shit, I forgot about the fainting thing. Are you all right?’ He propped himself up in bed and switched on his lamp. ‘You do look a bit pale still.’
‘I’m fine,’ I said, even though I did actually feel kind of queasy.
‘Get back in bed,’ he said, throwing off the covers and unhooking his dressing gown from the door. ‘I’ll make breakfast.’
There was something so thrillingly manly about the way he ordered me back to bed that I obeyed immediately, even if he did then go and start whipping up batter mix in the kitchen, rather than leaping on me for some ravishing.
I was just sliding back into a doze when I heard Ruth calling, ‘Kids! Dad’s on the phone!’, in a surprisingly un-murderous sort of voice. Well, well, well, I thought, raising an eyebrow in wonder. Could this actually be the dawning of a festive truce?
I rolled over, smiled to myself and promptly fell fast asleep again.
The second time I woke up, it was ten o’clock, the sun was shining and Ruth had already gone out for the day with her gang. I felt like the worst and laziest hostess ever, as I shuffled into the kitchen, full of apologies for my slackness.
‘Don’t be daft – you’re not well,’ Ed said, pouring me a coffee. ‘Besides, nobody expects you to be running around in waitress-mode, today of all days. How are you feeling?’
I rubbed my eyes, sinking into a chair. ‘Still a bit weird,’ I said sheepishly. I could smell the now-congealing butter from the frying pan and the strong, sharp scent of coffee, and the combination made me feel nauseous.
Victoria was washing up and turned to give me a motherly once-over. ‘You do look a bit peaky, darling,’ she said, then wrinkled her nose. ‘Sorry. Nobody wants to be told that, do they?’
I smiled at her. ‘It’s all right. I’ve been called worse. Yesterday Thea told me that I have “weasel eyes”. I think she meant “hazel eyes”, but I can’t be sure.’
Victoria chuckled. ‘She’s a card, that one. They’re all lovely.’ She rinsed a plate and put it in the drying rack. ‘I’m so grateful to you both for letting me stay here, you know. Christmas is so special with children, isn’t it? Much better than moping around at home.’
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ I told her. ‘Even if all I’ve done so far is faint and sleep.’ I tried to look more energetic, like a proper girlfriend and host. ‘So, what do you two fancy doing today?’
They exchanged a look. ‘We were just talking about that,’ Ed said. ‘We’ve got Dad’s ashes here with us, and we thought we’d scatter some of them off the cliff. He did love to swim in the sea.’
‘I can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be,’ Victoria added, her eyes moistening all of a sudden. She dried her hands on a tea towel and made a valiant attempt at a smile. ‘We can let him go – send him off into the open – and have a little moment. I think it’ll be a comfort to us both, Ed.’
I nodded. ‘That sounds a very good idea,’ I told them. ‘And that way he’ll still be part of our Christmas, too.’
Victoria dabbed her eyes. ‘Absolutely.’ She glanced over at me, then got to her feet with renewed briskness. ‘But first I’m just going to pop into the village for some last-minute bits and bobs. I won’t be long.’
While she was out, Ed and I went straight back to bed, feeling extremely naughty and teenagerish, which, in my opinion, is always an excellent way to feel. Afterwards we got dressed and pulled the curtains – in the nick of time, as I could see Victoria already making her way back along the beach path – and were just innocently putting each other’s Christmas presents under the tree when she let herself back into the flat.
‘That was quick,’ Ed said, placing a very small wrapped box on top of a larger, squishier present. I glanced surreptitiously at the label of the small box – To Evie, Merry Christmas. Love, Ed x – and a frisson went through me. Oooh. Now what could that be?
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I didn’t need much.’ Her eyes fell on me and I noticed a strange sort of expression on her face, before she turned back to her son. ‘Ed,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t be a love and make me a cappuccino, would you, darling? I’d do it myself, only I don’t have a clue about that fancy machine.’
‘Sure,’ he said, good-naturedly, adding one final present to the pile. They were all wrapped in a gorgeous midnight-blue paper freckled with silver stars, and my fingers itched to start opening them. ‘No peeping while I’m downstairs, you,’ he warned, as if reading my mind. ‘Or squidging. Or shaking. If a single corner of Sellotape has been peeled away, I’ll notice, you know.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, rolling my eyes and trying to act indignant. I knew exactly what he was talking about, though, obviously.
Ed vanished down to the café, where our big, bells-and-whistles coffee machine lived, and I was left alone with Victoria, who came over to me and perch
ed on the edge of the sofa. ‘Evie,’ she said, and I was surprised to see how fidgety she looked all of a sudden.
‘Is everything all right?’ I asked, suspecting she wanted a womanly heart-to-heart about Michael. I braced myself, wondering where the nearest box of tissues might be.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Everything’s fine. I just hope I’m not about to do, or say, anything awful.’
Oh Christ. I didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What do you mean?’
She pressed her lips tightly together for a second, then rummaged in her handbag. ‘I’m sorry if this makes me seem like an interfering busybody,’ she said. ‘Forgive an old lady her whims.’ She pulled something out of a paper bag and held it out to me on her palm. ‘But I just wondered if you might need this. I was a fainter, you see, when I was pregnant with Ed.’
My mouth went dry as I stared from her face down to the rectangular box on her hand. Clearblue Pregnancy Test, I read. ‘Oh,’ I said stupidly.
‘I’m sorry if I’m speaking out of turn,’ she went on, ‘or poking my nose in where it’s not wanted. But I thought maybe . . . Well, call it a mother’s hunch. Seeing you so pale and tired, it just reminded me of how I felt, back then.’
I reached out and took the box wordlessly. Awk-ward! I heard my best friend Amber sing in my head. ‘Um. Thanks,’ I said. Despite my mad feelings of broodiness, being a total plum, it hadn’t occurred to me that I could possibly be pregnant. We’d always used protection, for one thing.
‘Sorry,’ she said again into the strained silence that followed. ‘Feel free to ignore me and my hunches.’
I half-smiled in reply, but was distracted by trying to remember the last time I’d had a period. My mind had gone blank. Victoria was still looking at me, her head tipped on one side, her mouth anxious. I could tell she was wondering if she’d just overstepped the mark. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ I managed to say. ‘It’s probably only a virus, but . . .’ I tapped the box, ‘worth checking out.’