by Ruth Jones
And dutifully everyone laughed again. ‘Um … it’s great working with you guys, you make coming to work every day such a joy.’ Kate was so good at lying. She caught Benno’s eye and he winked at her. He knew she was talking bullshit.
‘So thank you for that. But thank you most of all for my wonderful cake made by my …’
And that’s when it went wrong.
‘Made by my …’ She tried to say ‘my fantastic husband and my beautiful little girl’, but the words just wouldn’t come out. They got jammed in her throat like paper in an unruly photocopier, and a dry, incoherent rasping emerged from her mouth instead.
No one was embarrassed at first – aw, it was sweet! But then Kate’s exhaustion finally got the better of her; the emotional backlog of the past twenty-four hours could no longer be contained – the guilt at what she’d done, the lack of food, the lack of sleep, the torment of seeing Callum again and knowing that it wouldn’t be the last time … all of it, like a tsunami of surrender, swept over her, threatening to force her to her knees.
The tears were unstoppable now, her apologies incoherent. The smiles on the faces of the crew turned first to confusion then to concern, and then to fear. She steadied herself on the edge of the tea table and Tallulah, upset at seeing her mother like this, also began to cry. The hiss in Kate’s ears became louder and louder, her mind turned to slush, her surroundings to slo-mo – Benno reaching out to help, Matt picking up Tallulah and making her feel safe. Everything was strangely outside of her and she didn’t know where she was. And then – nothing.
Silence.
Kate had passed out.
18
The window panes of St Andrew’s church hall were damp and clouded with condensation. Inside, twenty-two women of various shapes and ages were finishing their class. At the front, Rowena, their toned and lithe instructor, was urging them all to feel the stretch and breathe it out, for one final time. And then up she leapt, eager and brimming with fitness. ‘Thank you, ladies! I think tonight you’ve surpassed yourselves.’ She said that every week. The women applauded her and began rolling up their exercise mats, feeling the benefit of their workout in their legs and bums and tums.
Belinda turned to her friend Sue. ‘It’s bloody torture, isn’t it? Why do we do it?’
‘Because,’ Sue replied quietly, ‘we may be in our fifties, but we’re still foxy fuckers who know how to get the old man turned on. Got to keep the machinery workin’, haven’t we?’
‘You’re appalling, Sue Crosby,’ Belinda laughed.
Sue worked with Belinda at the hospital; they’d been friends ever since Sue moved to Edinburgh from London twenty years ago. One of their classmates, Sheilagh, came puffing over, pink in the face and a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. ‘Who’s coming to the pub to cash in all the calories we’ve just burnt?’
‘Ah not me, love, I’m knackered,’ Belinda said. And she was.
‘I expect you’ll be wanting to get back to your famous husband?’
‘Sorry?’ Belinda was confused.
‘Don’t tell me you didn’t see him? In the Gazette?’ Sheilagh started rustling around in her bag. ‘I’ve got it here somewhere.’
‘What you witterin’ on about now, Sheil?’ Sue found Sheilagh annoying at the best of times. She watched her as she dug deep and pulled out a tatty copy of the Edinburgh weekly paper.
‘Look at him – all mysterious and enigmatic!’
On the front page, beneath a story about a local bird sanctuary, was the headline ‘FAMOUS ACTRESS RETURNS TO QUEENS-FERRY SCHOOL’ with a big photo of Kate Andrews and Brian Boyd at North Park Primary. Behind them, trying to avoid the camera and failing, was Callum.
‘That Kate Andrews came back to talk to the kids yesterday. So glamorous. And look at your Callum, sneaking off in the background! You can keep it if you like.’
Belinda held the paper and focused on the photo, willing her hands to stop shaking.
‘D’you see?’
But Belinda couldn’t speak, her throat tight with tears. With superhero speed Sue came to her rescue. ‘Bollocks, I left the sodding iron on! Get me home will you, Lind, before the bloody house burns down!’ And she snatched the paper out of Belinda’s hand, mumbling, ‘Sorry, Sheil, gotta scoot!’ before manhandling Belinda out of the muggy church hall and into the cool air outside.
Once she was through the door, Belinda steadied herself against the wall and whispered, ‘Give me a fag.’
‘Don’t be an idiot, you haven’t smoked for over thirty years.’
‘So it’s time I started again.’
‘Right, well let’s at least get in the car.’
A minute later they were sat in the church car park, the windows of Belinda’s Fiesta wound down as they both puffed away on Sue’s menthol cigarettes. Belinda only took a couple of drags before throwing hers onto the gravel outside. ‘Christ, that’s disgusting!’
‘I know.’
Sue examined the front of the paper. ‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ she ventured gently.
Belinda didn’t answer.
‘She was only visiting the school. Knowing Callum, he won’t have even spoken to her, he’ll have stayed out of her way.’
Belinda took an extra-strong mint out of her pocket and crunched on it hard. ‘I think about her most days, y’know. What she did … what they did.’
‘Yeah, I’ll bet.’
They sat in silence. Sue had been there all those years ago to pick up the pieces when Callum’s affair had been found out. She still bore a grudge against him for hurting her best mate, but she’d never tell Belinda that.
‘When she’s in something on the telly, Callum always grabs the remote and switches over.’ She paused. ‘And we never, ever mention her.’
‘You’ll mention her tonight though, won’t you?’
‘I don’t know.’ She crunched the remainder of the mint until it disintegrated in her mouth, started the car and drove off.
They didn’t speak again until they pulled up outside Sue’s house. As she got out of the car, Sue turned to her. ‘Just stay calm, love. I mean it’s not like he’s done anything wrong, is it? It’s not his fault she hurled her marriage-wrecking body up north for a school visit.’
Belinda ignored her. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘You can call me any time, you silly cow. Promise me you will.’
‘Of course.’
But as she watched her drive away, Sue knew Belinda wouldn’t.
When the truth had finally been revealed, Belinda thought she would dissolve into nothingness. The pain was suffocating, debilitating. And she’d have put money on their marriage not surviving the onslaught. Because how could she ever forgive him or like him or love him or even be in the same room as him again, after that?
They had survived, of course. And she thought they were stronger now than ever. But here she was, facing those same doubts and armies of distrust that had invaded their happy marriage seventeen years ago. She took a deep breath and went inside the house, clutching the Edinburgh Gazette.
Callum was in the kitchen making a stir-fry. Wafts of steaming chilli and garlic rose up noisily from the wok. He didn’t hear her come in.
‘Callum.’
He turned round, smiling. ‘I’ve done enough for two if you fancy it?’
She took a deep breath and then launched in, her voice cold and hard.
‘Tell me you really were out with someone called Paul McGee last night and not with Kate Andrews.’ She slammed the Gazette hard onto the kitchen table.
His eyes flickered down at the black and white photo of the smiling woman he’d had sex with the night before. Neither he nor Belinda moved for five seconds. It felt to both of them like five hours. Eventually Callum spoke, finding within him the ability to sound completely affronted.
‘Of course I was with Paul! Jesus, Belinda, what d’you take me for?’
And because she wanted to, she chose to believe him, and felt ashamed for ever
doubting him and relieved to the core of her soul. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ She was tearful now and sat down on the hard wood of the kitchen bench. ‘It’s just seeing her there in that photo, with you …’
Callum sat down next to her, wrapped her in his arms and cursed himself for being such an appalling example of humankind as he comforted her. ‘I didn’t mention the school visit because I knew it would upset you …’
‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Well yeah, I said hello, but in front of the class and Brian Boyd. I was never on my own with her – I couldn’t wait for the day to end, to be honest.’
For a moment they sat like that, Belinda cuddled up, made safe in his embrace. And then she asked him, ‘What did it feel like? Seeing her again.’
He was grateful his chin was resting a-top Belinda’s head, preventing her from seeing the deceit in his eyes. ‘I didn’t feel anything. She was just … nobody.’
‘I’m so sorry, Callum.’ Belinda cried anew. ‘I hate myself for not trusting you.’
‘Sssh, sweetheart. It’s done. Gone. It was nothing.’
In the wok, the abandoned, blackening vegetables began filling the kitchen with the unmistakable smell of burnt food and the smoke detector screeched out its warning high and loud around the house.
19
‘And you paid a fiver to be told that?’
‘Well no, ten actually.’
‘You idiot.’
Hetty had been regaling Matt with her Romany experience from lunchtime, which she thought was extraordinary.
They were sitting in the living room, sharing a bottle of vegan wine that Hetty had brought over to try. Tallulah and Panda were cuddled up next to Hetty on the vast leather sofa, reading – or at least pretending to read – The Cat in the Hat, whilst Hetty absentmindedly smoothed her goddaughter’s hair. Tallulah preferred to recite her own version of the story to herself – in an American accent – because it involved a three-legged dog and was much more interesting.
Bathed and pyjama’d, and comfortably full of warm milk, she was savouring the naughtiness of staying up late to wait for Mummy to come home. Matt had told her it was a treat for being such a good girl, but really he wanted to ensure Tallulah could see Kate was well again after her dramatic collapse that afternoon. He didn’t want her having nightmares, and although Tallulah now believed Mummy had just ‘fallen down’ at work, Matt wanted to be doubly certain.
When Kate had passed out, the on-set nurse had rushed to her aid within seconds, and after taking her blood pressure and administering a hot, sweet tea, he pronounced her fit and well, just a little ‘over-tired’ – the standard industry euphemism for ‘hungover’.
Kate had been mortified at her very public loss of control and, ever the professional, threatened to kick up a fuss with the executive producers if they didn’t allow filming to continue. Everyone knew better than to argue with Kate when she was in one of her determined moods, so they did exactly what they were told.
Matt and Tallulah had headed home, and by the time the film crew wrapped that evening Benno was delighted to discover they’d filmed everything they needed, despite the day’s major hiccups.
‘But don’t you think it’s amazing? That I should hear from Adam just two days ago, and then today this lady tells me there’s someone from my past who’s come back into my life! And that there’s going to be a baby!’ Hetty was still dumbfounded by the Romany’s predictions.
‘No, I don’t think it’s remotely amazing. It’s generic bullshit.’ Hetty pointlessly covered the innocent ears of Tallulah, who wasn’t listening anyway, lost in her nonsensical chatter, her eyelids fighting sleep. ‘You could apply that “prediction” to anything. One size fits all. Honestly, Het, I’m surprised at you for being so gullible!’
‘What’s the matter with you, Mr Mardy Pants?’
Matt couldn’t help but smile. ‘Sorry. Been a bit of a day.’
‘I know, sweetheart, but she’s OK now. Isn’t she, Lules? Your Mummy’s better now.’
But as if put under by a stage hypnotist, Tallulah had fallen asleep clutching Panda and tucked in tight to her Aunty Het, The Cat in the Hat still open on her lap.
‘It wasn’t just what happened today, though,’ he whispered. ‘Things have been building for a while. Last night she didn’t come home till three a.m.’
‘But I thought she was with an old friend? Paula someone?’
‘Oh Het, get with it, there is no Paula McGee. She was lying.’
‘Really?’
Matt sighed and took a slug of wine before admitting, ‘I think she might be …’ Matt lowered his voice even more, in case Tallulah woke up and heard. ‘I think she might be using again.’
‘Oh dear. Oh no, that’s not good …’
Hetty didn’t know much about drugs. She’d smoked a joint at uni once, with dire consequences that involved vomiting over her bed after eating a dozen French Fancies. But she’d known Kate had a bit of a problem with cocaine after Matt turned up on Hetty’s doorstep one night six years ago. He and Kate had only known each other a year and had had a massive row at a friend’s party – Matt had had a bit too much wine, granted, but Kate was off her head on coke as well. It wasn’t a revelation to him that she took it – he’d known since he met her that she did, in fact they’d even done it together once or twice in the early days. But although its appeal to Matt had long since waned, Kate’s indulgence had carried on and gone way beyond recreational. At the party she just wouldn’t shut up. Gurning in people’s faces, shiny-eyed and, according to Matt, ‘just talking and talking and talking shit. Thinking she was SO interesting – when really, Het, she was boring the arse off everyone. Everyone who wasn’t high themselves, that is. And then she stood on a table and stripped off! Like a proper strip act.’
Hetty had put him up for the night, but when he’d returned home the next morning, expecting to find a repentant girlfriend in his bed, Kate wasn’t there. Nor the next day, nor the next. She stayed at the party house for three days, and when she eventually came home she was on such a downer she trailed a nihilistic cloud of gloom everywhere she went. He thought this would put paid to their relationship. But a week later, Kate announced she’d signed up to a therapist and was going to ‘get rid of this crap from my life – you’re too precious to me, darling Matthew.’ It wasn’t long after that that Kate had got pregnant with Tallulah and, with the confidence of a new convert to sobriety, had sworn off drugs for ever.
And she’d apparently kept her promise. But Kate’s recent strange behaviour could only be attributed to one of two things, probably both: that her depression was returning, and with it the accompanying need to take mood-altering substances.
And he didn’t just mean wine. ‘Her food’s gone mental again too. She’s doing the starving-herself thing, and the purging.’
‘Oh I’m sorry, Matt.’ Hetty looked at her dear friend, aching to make him feel better. ‘Look, you need to talk to her. You need to be honest, to tell her your fears.’
‘She’s not … easy, though. To talk to, I mean.’
‘Why don’t you take her away for a few days? Go to Prague or Brussels or somewhere. Just the two of you. I can look after this one.’
They both looked at the sleeping Tallulah, contentedly snuffling like a newborn lamb, her dreams most likely filled with three-legged dogs and a cat in a strange stripy hat.
‘Yeah, I know. I’ll have a word with Benno, find out what her schedule is and see what I can organize.’
They both sat with their own thoughts for a moment.
‘This wine is dire, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty weird.’ And they laughed.
Matt wanted to change the subject, to lighten the mood. He hated unloading all his woes onto Hetty like this. He knew what a worrier she was.
‘Right. So, this reunion. How many replies to date?’
‘Oh, it’s marvellous! Seventy-two!’
‘Surely we won’t know them
all though?’
‘Oh no, there are people coming from all sorts of backgrounds – mathematicians, computer scientists …’
‘Remember Richard Whatsisname, with the beard? He did computers, and he stole one, d’you remember, and hid it in your wardrobe when you went home for reading week?’
‘Oh my God, yes! And when I came back he just walked into my room, all cocky as a crab, picked up the computer and said, “I’ll just relieve you of this!”’
‘“I’ll just relieve you of this!”’ Matt laughed as he headed over to the wine rack to get a more palatable alternative to Hetty’s vegan offering. He uncorked it with a practised hand and pulled out two fresh glasses from the cupboard. ‘I wonder if there’ll be any Manscis there.’ Mansci was the nickname for Management Science, a term that had always bewildered Matt – was it the management of science, or the science of management?
‘Yes, there’s definitely one. Greta from the floor below us in first year.’
‘Wasn’t she Finnish slash Brummie?’
‘Yes, and I used to love it when she swore – “fwckin sheet!” she’d say! Oh God, this tastes so much better.’ And the warmth of the wine gliding down their throats made them feel buoyant and optimistic.
Matt held out his glass to clink with Hetty’s. ‘Here’s to Greta and Richard and all those lovely people coming to your lovely reunion!’
‘Including Adam.’
Begrudgingly, Matt said, ‘Yeah, alright, and to him. Though I still think he’s a dick!’
They were laughing so much when Kate arrived that they didn’t see her come in. She watched them for a second from the doorway, two old mates, happy in each other’s company, sharing a trusted, reliable and utterly solid friendship, and was filled momentarily with envy. ‘Is it party time?’
‘Kate!’
Hearing her mother’s name woke Tallulah out of her slumber. ‘Mummy!!!’ Despite her sleepiness, the excitement at seeing her mother energized her enough to run towards Kate and throw herself into her arms.