by Amy Bratley
‘Go on,’ she muttered. ‘Tell her why you’re here.’
Mel was inches away from Coco, whose expression was confused yet amiable. Mabel cried in her pushchair, so Mel unclipped her and lifted her out. She was hungry, and Mel needed to feed her. At least that was what the damp patches on her kite blouse were telling her.
‘Oh!’ said Coco, tickling Mabel’s chin. ‘I have never seen such a beautiful baby girl.’
Instantly, Mabel stopped crying and suddenly Coco was holding her, kissing Mel on both cheeks and shaking Rebecca’s hand.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, holding Mabel up to look at her properly. ‘You’re so lucky to have her. She looks like Leo?’
When Mel didn’t respond, Coco frowned. The slim woman with long legs on the rug stood up and brushed off her trousers, lolloping over to where they were standing. She rested her hand affectionately on Coco’s shoulder.
‘Is everything okay?’ she sad. She had an American accent and delicate features. Coco patted the woman’s hand and nodded.
‘This is Mel,’ she said. ‘And her friend Rebecca. Mel is Leo’s partner. This is Suki. Are you going to speak, Mel?’
Mel opened her mouth to answer and thought she began to speak, but her words trailed off. Rebecca, frantically bobbing Elvis up and down to stop him crying, gave her a hard stare.
‘Go on, Mel,’ she urged. ‘Don’t be shy now.’
‘I. . . I . . .’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘I want to know why you are emailing Leo and asking him to come and see you, alone, without me?’
Coco was frowning. She looked utterly bemused. Mel suddenly felt really, really silly.
‘I emailed because I need to talk to him,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t want to see him alone.’
‘Do you want him back?’ Mel asked. ‘Because I’d really like to know if you’re going to attempt to steal my boyfriend from under my nose, just so you can play families, nine years on.’
‘Why don’t you come in?’ said Coco, looking suddenly tired, but Mel shook her head. Coco sighed.
‘I should explain,’ she said, glancing at Jacques, who was still showing no interest in the women. ‘The reason I wanted to see Leo is because Suki and I are together. I realized I was in love with her three years ago. I had to break off my relationship with Peter, my husband, and he was very upset with me. That’s why we moved to London, for a clean break. I wanted to speak to Leo, to let him know what was happening. I didn’t feel it was right to tell him all this when we came down to Brighton, because he was so preoccupied with the fact he thought he was hurting you. I know that Jacques would probably appreciate a male in his life, if Leo would be happy to, occasionally, meet up with him. Peter wants nothing to do with us. I just wanted to give him all the information.’
Suki put her arm around Coco’s shoulders. Mel gaped at them as if it was the first time she’d ever seen a lesbian couple. She felt so utterly foolish.
‘Shit,’ she said. ‘I’ve made a fool of myself. I’m sorry.’
‘No,’ said Coco. ‘I should have explained when we met. It is my fault. I’m sorry if I have caused you distress. That was never my intention. You must be really fed up with me. Please, come inside.’
Mel and Rebecca were quiet as they followed Coco and Suki inside the house and into the immaculate kitchen, where pale blue French doors opened out on to a small back garden bursting with bushes of pink peonies. Mel, carrying Mabel, felt ridiculous and embarrassed as Coco invited her to sit down at the oak kitchen table decorated with three small glass vases of lilac flowers. Suki offered seats and moved books and newspapers away from the table top, making space. Mel heard herself say thank you for the hundredth time. Jacques’ footsteps could be heard jumping up the stairs.
‘Jacques?’ Suki called out of the kitchen door and up the stairs. ‘Would you like a drink?’
There came a muffled ‘no’ response and Suki returned to the kitchen, smiling at the awkward assembled group.
‘Can I make you both tea?’ she said kindly. ‘I’m sure you need to feed Mabel?’
Mabel was grizzling and did need feeding. Finding the formula and mixing it with cooled boiled water, Mel gave Mabel her bottle, wishing she was invisible.
‘Thank you,’ she said, again, glancing nervously at Rebecca. ‘Listen, I’m sorry, Coco. I feel really stupidly ridiculous about coming here today. I think it’s the post-pregnancy hormones. I’ve lost the plot.’
Coco shook her head and laughed slightly. Rebecca smiled encouragingly at Mel and sat Elvis on her knee with her set of keys.
‘How were you to know what was going on in my life?’ said Coco. ‘I have hardly known what is going on in my life! Never been certain of anything until I met Suki and knew I had to break up with Peter. I’m sure seeing me in Brighton was the last thing you needed—’
Suki put her arm around Coco and they shared a smile. Mel nodded, noting how incredibly attractive both Coco and Suki were. Her cheeks flushed.
‘As I said, I got in touch with Leo by email because I know that Jacques is missing Peter,’ she said. ‘And Peter will have nothing to do with any of us—’
She looked suddenly very sad and shook her head, hopelessly. She looked up at the ceiling. ‘What am I supposed to say to Jacques?’ she continued. ‘He thinks Peter is his dad and that there’s no chance of seeing his genetic father. He needs to know that’s not the case. I thought, since Leo contacted me, that it could be the time to tell the truth. I know that’s not easy for him or you, Mel.’
Coco put a white teapot down on the table and poured a cup for Rebecca, then for Mel. She opened up a tin of biscuits, all delicately iced in sorbet colours, but, notably, didn’t eat one herself.
‘Thanks,’ Mel said once more, taking a sip of her tea. ‘I do understand where you are coming from. I grew up without my dad, and I know how empty that can leave you feeling. I think, if Leo’s willing, it would be unfair to deny Jacques the chance to get to know him. To be honest, my frustration was more about your intentions with Leo . . . and now I can see that’s not going to be an issue—’
‘No,’ said Suki drily. ‘Absolutely not an issue.’
‘Of course not,’ said Coco. ‘It is Jacques that I am thinking of. It is always of him I am thinking—’
From upstairs, there was the sound of a guitar being strummed. Jacques.
‘And Jacques,’ said Mel. ‘What is Jacques really like?’
Coco pulled back her hair and smiled an enormous, infectious smile. Mel felt herself relax.
‘From what I remember of Leo, when he was just sixteen, Jacques is so much like him,’ said Coco. ‘He can be shy, but is quietly determined. He loves music and art at school. He’s thoughtful and sensitive, but pretty independent. Does that sound like Leo to you?’
‘Pretty much,’ said Mel. ‘Those are his good traits. I don’t think you knew him long enough to get past those—’
Everyone laughed.
‘I think they will get on,’ said Coco. ‘But I know Leo has Mabel and you to concentrate on. You are a new family and I don’t want to upset that. Perhaps, down the line, if you feel this is right for your family, Leo could consider meeting Jacques again, to get to know him.’
Mabel had fallen asleep after her feed and Mel lifted her up, holding her gently against her shoulder. Rebecca looked at Mel, waiting for her answer.
‘I’ve always wanted a big family in whatever shape or form,’ said Mel calmly, with a warm little shrug of her shoulders, ‘With Jacques’ best interests at heart, why don’t we see how it goes?’
‘Yes,’ said Coco, moving over to Mel and giving her a hug. ‘That sounds very wise. Let’s see how it goes. Thank you.’
Later, at home in the flat, when Mabel was asleep, Leo brought Mel a large glass of red wine. That was one great perk about bottle-feeding. She could have a few glasses of wine whenever she felt like it. Wrapped in her dressing gown, she wiped London’s dust from her skin with cleanser-soaked cotton-wool balls,
collecting a small heap on the arm of the sofa before taking a deep slug of the wine. She thought about her afternoon with Coco and Suki.
‘So,’ he said, sitting next to her on the sofa and lifting her legs up on his own so he could massage her feet, ‘how did the wedding stuff go? Is Rebecca all sorted?’
Mel wriggled her toes, looked at Leo and narrowed her eyes. Did he really have no inkling that she’d been to London to see Coco? How should she phrase it? Leo, his hair sticking out at the back from where he’d fallen asleep while putting Mabel to bed, seemed completely oblivious. While she had been in emotional turmoil, unveiling truths about his significant ex, he had been working on his computer, in his slightly stinky all-male office overlooking the back of the Churchill Square shopping centre, filing through the archives of code in his brain to bring another website design to life. Mel stuck her nose in her glass of wine and took another gulp.
‘About earlier,’ he started. ‘I’m sorry if you were pissed off. I wanted to tell you that Coco has been in touch, but after all you’ve said and how paranoid you are about it, I guess I’m a little worried that you might be right. What if she does have a crush on me?’
‘What?’ Mel spluttered, laughing so hard wine shot through her nose. She slapped the arm of the chair and the cotton-wool balls flew off. ‘Oh, Leo!’
‘What?’ he asked, wide-eyed. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Life,’ said Mel. ‘Life’s funny.’
Chapter Thirty-five
It wasn’t Goa. It wasn’t Mauritius. It wasn’t Bora Bora. But it was Brighton – where the sea-salty taste of the air, the seagulls circling discarded chips, the smooth, warm pebbles on the beach, the stragglers, deserters and smugglers wandering the streets alongside the organic lovers, vintage kids, the pea-shoot-munching folk, the queens with their kings – and it felt to Rebecca just like home. And what better place to get married than Brighton beach on a beautiful, blue-sky day in August? Rebecca had parked Lenny’s VW Beetle, with Elvis strapped in the back, opposite the beach. If I believed in God, which I don’t, she thought as she waited for the engine to cut out, I would thank the old man for this amazing weather.
‘So, Elvis,’ she said, her Fifties prom-style pale-yellow wedding dress bunching up over the bottom half of the steering wheel. ‘I’m getting married today, to your daddy.’
From his car seat, Elvis gurgled.
‘Is that funny?’ asked Rebecca, turning round to watch him blow a gleeful raspberry.
Checking her reflection, she smoothed down her eyebrows and checked that her yellow-rose hair clip was still in place behind her ear. Opening the driver door, she hummed the wedding march, before laughing at herself. Lifting a smiling, cooing Elvis, dressed in his finest gingham dungarees, out of his car seat, she strapped him into the pushchair, locked the car door and crossed the road to the beach, her vintage sling-backs clip-clopping on the pavement. Some might say it wasn’t very glamorous, driving yourself to the beach, pushing your baby boy along, with a changing bag stuffed in the basket underneath. But, for Rebecca, it was perfect. She’d never been a horse-and-chariot sort of girl, just as she’d never wanted an academic life, or fit in to the claustrophobic village she’d grown up in. This, with the sun warm on her face, the glittering sea – and what was that in the distance? She squinted in the light. A naked man paddling in the shallows was being escorted away by a policeman. Ha! That was the beauty of Brighton. It was full of characters. Nothing was predictable. Walking just a little further, she lifted her hand over her eyes, looking for her crowd. Lenny was getting there early to decorate the white marquee they’d bought from Argos with Hawaiian flower strings and balloons. Ah, she thought, spotting everyone, all dressed up. Her heart flipped over. The only bad thing about today was that her mum was even more poorly. Over the last few weeks they’d spoken on the phone so many times she felt she was getting to know her mother as an equal, but in the last few days, Harriet had admitted to feeling worse. Rebecca took a deep breath, trying not to let herself think of it, but jumped as someone grabbed her arm.
‘Becs!’ said Lenny, suddenly there right in her face, sweaty from running, dressed in a pale-blue suit, flowery shirt and white shoes. ‘I’m really sorry, but there’s been a bit of a scene. My dad’s been arrested. No, not arrested exactly. I told you how much he likes to get naked. He went for a swim and made a big deal of it, so a copper just came and asked him to put his kit on. He refused, so now he’s talking to him in his panda car.’
He stopped gabbling for a moment and stood still, taking Rebecca in, his mouth open in amazement, admiring her.
‘Wow, Becs,’ he said. ‘You look gorgeous. Incredible. You’re dazzling, babe. Truly. Quick, let’s get married before you change your mind! Yeah, but sorry about my dad. He goes his own way.’
Lenny pantomimed that his dad was a bit cuckoo, by circling his finger by the side of his head. Rebecca grinned and stopped to hug Lenny. ‘I love you, Lenny, and I think your dad is great,’ she said, linking arms with him. ‘Let’s go. Is my mum here yet? Did she see your dad get naked?’
‘Yes,’ Lenny said, leaning down to ruffle Elvis’s shock of dark hair. ‘She’s here and, yes, she saw him. She looks well.’
Rebecca smiled warily, and sighed.
‘Everything else okay?’ said Rebecca.
‘Yeah,’ said Lenny, suddenly deflated. ‘Except for Mack. He’s really pissed off with me.’
Rebecca felt worried. ‘Why, Len? What’s up?’
Lenny sighed then shook his head, cheering up as they moved closer towards the marquee.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said, lifting the pushchair over the pebbles while they moved towards the group, who clapped to welcome them. Rebecca scanned her friends, excitedly saying hello to the antenatal-group mums, who all looked amazing, to her friends from college and work and her parents. Just seeing her mum and dad there, dressed up and standing slightly awkwardly together, made her heart beat too fast. She was overjoyed they’d come.
‘Hi, Mum and Dad.’ She smiled, kissing them briefly before lifting Elvis from his pushchair and holding him balanced on her hip. ‘I’m so glad you came—’
Elvis waved his arms in the air, trying to dive-bomb out of Rebecca’s arms. She bounced him up and down to distract him and, after a few seconds, handed him to her mum. He smiled and made a ‘da, da, da’ noise. Harriet instinctively beamed at his happy little face.
‘Of course we’ve come,’ she said. ‘You’re our only daughter and Elvis is our only grandson. Isn’t he lovely, Thomas?’
Her father nodded, also smiling kindly at Elvis. Babies were good like that, made even the most serious people smile. Rebecca grabbed her parents a glass of sparkling wine each, kept cold in ice buckets they’d borrowed from the Pig and Whistle.
‘I know,’ she said, ‘but it means a lot to me. Really it does. How are you, Mum?’
Harriet closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. ‘I do not want to hear one word about my illness today, thank you very much,’ she said. ‘This is your wedding day and we’re here to celebrate.’
Rebecca looked at her dad, who nodded to indicate that she should listen to Harriet’s words.
‘I’m not one to mope around,’ she said. ‘I’d rather we all got along with life as usual. I’m sure you know that.’
Rebecca took a deep breath and squeezed her mum’s hands. She noticed tears in Harriet’s eyes, and that made her heart ache. Taking a deep breath, she gave her a big hug.
‘You do know I love you, don’t you, Mum? Having Elvis has changed the way I think about everything. I wish I’d told you I love you more often. And you, Dad.’
Harriet closed her eyes for a long moment and, when she opened them, they were sparkling with tears. ‘We love you too, Rebecca,’ she said. ‘Really, from the bottom of our hearts. Don’t we, Thomas?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Now do stop all this emotional wrangling. Elvis and me don’t know what to do with ourselves.’
Rebecca laughed and gave him a hug. She looked around the group. ‘So, what do you think, Dad?’ she said, gesturing to the pimped up marquee, which was full of lots of Lenny’s musician friends, who were hitting the booze already. ‘Did Lenny say hello?’
‘He certainly did, and introduced me to lots of the others,’ he said. ‘It’s all very unusual really. You look lovely.’
Rebecca smiled at her dad, who couldn’t look more like a small-town family GP if he were wearing fancy dress. Bushy white eyebrows, clipped white hair, white shirt and navy suit trousers, he had probably been born with a stethoscope around his neck. She felt suddenly and unusually protective about him. All this with her mum must be exhausting for him.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said. ‘But do you mean it’s unusual that I look lovely, or that the setting is unusual?’
‘The setting,’ he said. ‘And Elvis seems very good indeed. I’m pleased for you, Rebecca, I really am. You know we hardly talk, but I think well of you. I want you to know that.’
Rebecca took a deep breath. I think well of you. That was about as emotional as her dad got. Be grateful for small mercies, she told herself. Be grateful they’re here at all. Elvis was wriggling now, so she took him back from Harriet.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ she said, kissing his cheek, determined that they would all enjoy the day.
They fell silent for a moment and, in the distance, she noticed Mack, set apart from the crowd, on the edge of the water throwing skimmers into the sea. She wondered what he could possibly be angry about today. Must be to do with the band. Perhaps Lenny hadn’t liked his lyrics or something. Despite his acerbic wit, Mack was a sensitive soul. Or maybe he was secretly in love with Lenny and didn’t want him to marry her? Come to think of it, she’d never seen him with a girlfriend.