Love Is a Four Letter Word

by Claire Calman

  He flicked through his calendar.

  ‘We’re booked solid for the next ten months or so, pretty much.’

  He was letting her down gently. Good. Now she could zip up her folio and leave.

  ‘But, but, but,’ he said as she retaped the brown paper around the paintings. He ran his finger along the dates. ‘It’s decidedly tight time-wise, but we do have a mixed show in three months. Three artists. It was supposed to be four anyway, but one dropped out to have a nervous breakdown. You’d fit in.’ He laughed. ‘The show’s called Visions, which covers anything we fancy really. But these – ’ he patted the parcel. ‘These are visions.

  ‘Have a think anyway. I’d understand if you wanted to hold out for a solo show – if that’s the case, we’d be looking at next year, say early autumn and, obviously, we’d need quite a lot more. I’d like to come and see the others. Whereabouts is your studio? Give us a ring tomorrow if you can, Thursday at the latest, and we can talk about framing and so on.’

  Did that mean he liked them? Had he said? Had he just offered her a joint exhibition or had she imagined it? Could she possibly ask? He’d think she was bonkers.

  He smiled, his sober face suddenly bright and youthful.

  ‘They’re superb, by the way. Really.’ He nodded to himself. ‘Let’s talk tomorrow.’

  Bella was finally ‘in conference’ with Seline, i.e. having a chat but with the door shut. She had put off making a decision for as long as she reasonably could, but Seline had finally pressed her: was she interested in the possibility of a partnership next year or not?

  ‘I really appreciate your asking me …’

  ‘But you’ve decided against it? I’m sorry but I suppose it’s not a huge surprise. Can I ask why?’

  Bella explained about the exhibition and wanting to spend more time painting. Perhaps Seline would like to come? She’d love to.

  ‘I don’t think I’d really be able to put in more time here. In fact,’ she heard herself say, ‘I was wondering if you’d let me work part-time. Say, three days a week? So I’d have time to paint. Anthony could take more charge when I’m not here. He’s got the experience. Or I could leave altogether if you think that would be better?’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Seline clicked her pen against her teeth. ‘We’ll take whatever time you can offer. I guess we can get it to work as long as we don’t have to lose you completely.’

  Now that the words had been said aloud, Bella realized that the idea had been lodged in her head for months. Now it had been spoken, it was Out There, no longer safe in silence. She agreed to carry on full-time for the next couple of months while she trained Anthony in the small but vital matter of diplomacy when dealing with awkward clients.

  Bella closed the door behind her. Did I really say that? Her knees seemed to be trembling slightly but her body felt lighter, clear and fizzy, as if her veins were flowing with lemonade – was it oh-shit-what-have-I-done nerves or something not unlike excitement? She bustled through to the office kitchen, fluttered to and fro wiping down the worktop, refilling the coffee machine, anchoring herself. Standing listening to the rhythmic drip-drip of the coffee, she caught sight of her distorted reflection in the shiny curve of the kettle: a new, unfamiliar Bella.

  23

  Will’s sister Helen was coming over with her two children the following Sunday. Would Bella join them? Meet more of the Henderson tribe?

  ‘Could be a bit tricky. Got lots to do.’

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  ‘No, just, you know, stuff.’

  ‘Oh, stuff. Right. Sounds important.’ Will puffed out his cheeks. ‘Do we have to go through this every time I want you to meet my family?’

  ‘I’m working on a painting, Will. It’s your fault. It was your idea to send me to the gallery in the first place.’

  ’Send you to the gallery? So it’s my fault that you’re in danger of being fulfilled and successful? What a bastard. I don’t know how you put up with me.’ He reached for her. ‘Of course you must put your painting first, sweet pea. I only meant if you weren’t doing anything special.’

  ‘Perhaps I could pop in and say hello briefly at teatime?’

  ‘Mmm. Do that. Offer me crumbs – old Will’ll lick ’em up.’

  ‘I don’t have to come at all.’ She started to turn away.

  ‘Yes, you do have to come at all. Didn’t you read the job description? Will’s partner – Official Duties. Number 1: Love me hugely. Number 2: Have lots of sex with me. Number 3: Meet my family. It’s not as if we’re down to Number 54: Meet my boring cousins from Uxbridge, is it? This is actually important to me, for two of the people I love most in the world to get to know each other. Can you not understand that?’

  ‘OK, OK. Remain calm. I said I’d come.’

  ‘And the crowd went wild!’ Will tore around the room.

  ‘Will you grow up?’

  ‘Too late for me now.’

  Helen shifted her baby to balance him on her hip so she could shake Bella’s hand.

  ‘’Scuse the sprog. I can’t remember the last time I had both hands free. I always seem to be holding one or restraining one or hoiking one back from near-death.’

  Bella looked at the baby. He looked back.

  ‘Leo, is it?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s right. The munchkin trying to scale Mount William over there is Abigail. Come and say hello, Abby.’

  Abigail looked around, saw a New Person, and buried her face in Will’s leg.

  ‘Don’t take it personally. She’s going through a shy phase.’

  ‘That’s OK. I’m still waiting to grow out of mine.’

  Abigail stretched out on the floor, surrounded by paper and crayons. Bella took Leo’s foot in her hand and gently squeezed it.

  ‘Hello, Leo.’ She puffed out her cheeks and blew her breath out in a raspberry. His little cheeks bulged into a smile.

  ‘Here, cop hold of him a minute, will you? God, he’s so heavy now. I’ll just get some cups.’

  He was heavier than he looked for such a small person. How was it possible for hands to be so tiny, yet still be hands? With fingernails in miniature, perfect replicas of the real thing, as if made by an apprentice craftsman practising before working full-size. He grabbed her outstretched finger with surprising strength.

  ‘He’s got quite a grip,’ said Will. He held up his hand with one finger bent down. ‘See, lost one last week.’

  The baby’s face crumpled in unknown distress. Bella started to sway smoothly, rocking from foot to foot as she cradled him. She dipped her face and sang quietly to him, her voice soft and low.

  ‘Hush, little baby, a dum-dah-dah-dee. Can’t remember the words, dah-dee, dah-dah dee …’ Leo’s face smoothed into a calm smile, near sleep. She looked up and her eyes met Will’s. Neither spoke.

  Helen swept back into the room with the cups.

  ‘Just chuck him back if he gets too heavy. Oh, he likes you. Normally, he’d be bawling his fat little head off by now, wouldn’t you, chubs?’ She touched her baby softly on the nose.

  Helen started pouring the tea.

  ‘So, you planning to do all this nonsense? Do you look forward to the delights of Motherhood or are you sensibly relishing your peaceful existence while it lasts? It’s great if you don’t mind being wee’d on and getting so knackered you can’t remember your own name.’

  ‘I think I’d be a lousy mother.’

  ‘No you wouldn’t!’ said Will. Helen gave a loud cackle and raised her eyebrows at Bella. ‘Somebody sounds broody.’

  He lowered his voice. ‘Well, it’s rubbish. You’d be brilliant. Why d’you say that?’

  ‘I’d be bound to mess them up and they’d grow up resenting me – they’d need decades of therapy and then send me the bill. Or I’d be too anxious and over-protective. They look so fragile. I couldn’t bear it. I’d lie awake all night to check they were still breathing.’

  ‘Believe me, after a few nights of no sleep, you
’d find yourself dropping off in the middle of the supermarket. Anyway, babies are tougher than they look, but, yes, it’s a worry. Mum says she still worries about us and look how old he is.’ Helen nodded at Will. ‘What about your lot – do they nose into your life all the time or are you more the typically English family who meet up twice a year?’

  ‘Dad can be a bit of a fusser. My mother likes to interfere but not to the point where I might think she actually cared one way or the other, so she treads a delicate line – takes years of practice to get as good as that. She’d love me to settle down only so she would no longer have the embarrassment of having this spinster daughter.’

  Leo started to cry and Helen reclaimed him and held him close against her.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Will.

  ‘It’s true. As for worrying about me, the only reason she’d mind if I was squished by a truck tomorrow is because then she’d have to put up with pitying looks from the neighbours.’

  ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’ Will’s voice was quiet.

  Helen was silent.

  ‘I can’t believe you said that.’ Will looked glazed.

  Bella shrugged. She had intended it as an amusing hyperbole, but said out loud it had suddenly seemed not very amusing, not very amusing at all.

  ‘You sound very angry,’ said Will.

  ‘I didn’t come here to be analysed. Don’t patronize me, Will.’

  Helen topped up their cups.

  ‘Well, it’s none of my business,’ she said, ‘but I’d be angry if I thought my mother didn’t care. So would you, Will. Course you would. Anyway, you can share our mum, Bella. She obviously thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Went on about you for hours after Will took you to see her. I felt quite jealous, I can tell you.’

  Bella wondered how she had sounded. Was she really so angry? She didn’t know any more. Her mother – Mum; it sounded odd, too aprony and cosy for Alessandra – had always been like that so she was more resigned to it than anything, she supposed. Whatever you grew up with, that was what was normal to you. You only questioned it when you came across something different.

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  She is at Sara’s house, for tea. They have had egg sandwiches in white bread, soft and flannelly, with the crusts cut off. Now they each have a fairy cake, covered in hundreds-and-thousands, and a drink of orange barley water in a glass with red and yellow rings around it. As they eat their cakes, the hundreds-and-thousands keep falling off onto their plates, making a tiny pattering sound, multicoloured rain. Sara reaches across to try to steal some of Bella’s windfall with a licked finger, laughing. Bella leans over to get to Sara’s plate. As she stretches out, she knocks over her glass of orange barley. Sara squeals as it spills across the table and drips onto the floor.

  Bella holds her breath. Sara’s mum will call her clumsy, shout at her. She will be tipped off her chair and pushed out of the kitchen. She will have to go in the garden and hide behind the bush with the purple flowers where the butterflies play.

  Sara’s mum wipes the table with a stripy cloth.

  ‘Oops-a-daisy,’ she says. ‘There we go.’ She mixes up another glass of orange and gives it to Bella.

  Bella looks at her, waiting, barely breathing. Any minute now.

  ‘That cake nice, is it?’ says Sara’s mum.

  Bella nods slowly and starts to pick off the hundreds-and-thousands to eat them one by one.

  ∼ ∼ ∼

  ‘I went to see my dad once. Our real dad. Remember, Will?’ Helen said.

  He nodded.

  ‘I’d been pissed off at him for years. And I mean years – he made practically no effort to see us when we were growing up, after he’d left Mum. We had Hugh and he was great and all that but I wanted my real dad to want me, too. I went to see him when I was about eighteen, up in Yorkshire. Mum gave me the fare. I don’t suppose she can have been keen on the idea, but she didn’t try to dissuade me. I needed to see him, she knew that.’

  ‘So, what was he like?’ Bella asked.

  ‘He was – a bit pathetic really. Ineffectual, not a real grown-up. It was such an anticlimax. He gave me this kind of awkward half-hug and I just felt, well, sorry for him. He didn’t seem worth all that wasted energy of being angry all the time. I suddenly saw that he had missed out, by not knowing us. And he’d never get those years back. I couldn’t be bothered to resent him any more. I send him a card now and then, but he’s just like a distant uncle really. I miss Hugh much more.’

  Leo had fallen asleep. His small face was completely calm, at rest. Helen carefully laid him between two cushions on the sofa and sat beside him.

  ‘Have you ever tried to talk to your mum about how she is?’ she asked.

  ‘What would be the point? She’s not going to change magically just because I ask her to.’

  ‘No, she probably won’t. That’s not what I meant. But you might. If you talked to her, you might start to understand why she’s like that. What have you got to lose?’

  Abigail came to whisper in Helen’s ear.

  ‘You don’t have to whisper, sweetheart. What is it?’

  She whispered again.

  ‘Just ask her. I’m sure she will.’

  Abigail remained silent, but tugged at Helen’s sleeve.

  ‘Bella, would you mind looking at Abby’s drawings? I think she wants a new fan.’

  Bella and Abby lay on the floor, drawing with crayons while Helen fed Leo and Will washed up.

  ‘What shall we draw now?’ asked Bella.

  ‘Me. Me. Draw me.’

  A stylized Abby duly took shape on the page: springy, Will-like, brown hair, bright red dungarees, blue T-shirt.

  ‘Shall we draw your baby brother in here, too?’

  Abby sucked her lip, considering.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  Bella laughed.

  ‘Fair enough.’

  Abby gave Bella a drawing as they were leaving – one she had done of Bella, with huge eyes and a red smile.

  ‘Thank you very much. I’ll put it up in my studio, and you must come to me for tea soon and we can do some more.’

  ‘See, she’s got your hair spot on,’ said Will, pointing at Bella’s head in the drawing, covered with a tangle of lines like unravelled knitting.

  ‘Shut up, you.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘I’m glad I came. Thank you.’

  ‘I knew you would be. Have you got to dash off to do “stuff” or do I get the good of you on my own for a while?’

  She checked her watch.

  ‘Hmm. I ought to be getting back.’

  ‘Can’t it wait?’ He drew her towards the stairs. ‘I’ve got something to show you … upstairs.’

  ‘I bet you have. OK. On condition I can watch Jane Eyre here – starts in forty minutes.’

  ‘Oh, you.’ He towed her up the stairs. ‘Four minutes will probably be sufficient. We don’t need to bother with all that foreplay stuff now we’ve known each other all this time, do we?’ He started unbuttoning her dress.

  ‘Fine, dear. I’ll just lie back and you take your pleasure.’

  Her dress fell to the floor.

  ‘Forty minutes, hmm? Look, she gets him in the end – there, you don’t need to watch it now.’ He manoeuvred her towards the bathroom. ‘Come and have a shower with me.’

  Standing with Will in the shower, she watched the rivulets of water running down his chest, soaped her hands to lather his legs, his back, the curve of his bottom. He held her with one arm, pressing the cool bar of soap over her breasts, sliding his hands over her skin, cupping her tummy, dipping his finger into her navel. He turned her to clasp her from behind, reaching around her, his fingers roaming, slipping, tracing tingling paths over her flesh. Pushing back against him, she rested her head on his chest, her wet hair slicked to his skin. Curved her hand back to touch him. His sudden breath hot on her neck. His hand reaching lower. He guided her other hand between her own thighs.

  ‘Carry on without me fo
r a moment. I’ll be right back.’ Will jumped out of the shower. She heard him call through from the bedroom. The banging of drawers.

  ‘Where are the bloody doo-dahs?’

  ‘Under the pillow!’

  He ran back into the bathroom.

  ‘Enjoying yourself there? Can I join in at all?’

  ‘Get in, you fool.’ She pressed herself hard against him as he clambered back in.

  ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Where were we?’

  They were lying in his bed in a tangle of towels, pillows and duvet.

  ‘Fat face?’ Will turned towards her.

  ‘Hmm?’ She wriggled to face him. Raised her hand to his cheek.

  ‘I —’ he kissed her nose, ‘love —’ another kiss, ‘you —’ kiss, ‘bigly.’ Kiss.

  ‘Bigly?’ She snuggled closer to him, rubbing her face against his chest.

  ‘Yes. Very bigly. I know this has all been – well – it has, really, hasn’t it? – quite quick and intense, not just the sex – which is certainly intense but not too quick I hope – and anyway, the thing is –’

  ‘You’re wibbling, Will.’

  ‘That’s true. I am wibbling. I want to say something, but I don’t want you to panic.’

  ‘Don’t panic, Mr Mainwaring, don’t panic!’ Bella slipped into the Dad’s Army refrain.

  ‘No,’ he said, gently shaking her arm. ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘Oops. Have I got to be serious now?’ She bit her cheeks. ‘See? Being sensible.’

  Will nodded.

  ‘I don’t want to scare you off. You know how I feel about you.’

  He took her hand, looked down at her fingers as he squeezed them in his own, ran his thumb over her knuckles, her fingernails as if he had never seen them before, then looked up and straight into her eyes.

  ‘I want to marry you.’

  For a tiny fraction of time, she felt herself flooded with warmth. Her face must be glowing. For one moment, light shone from her eyes. Tears pooled softly below the rims.

  Yes, yes. Love me, marry me. Yes.

  Then a wisp of cold blew down her neck. She shivered. Her skin was clammy, pale, her mouth dry. For a moment, her eyes closed. And there was Patrick, his back turned towards her. But she dared not reach out to him. What would she see in his eyes? She clenched and unclenched her fists, digging her fingernails into her palms.