The No-Kids Club

by Talli Roland

  Until he’d ruined it by mentioning children.

  Clare scanned the message again. He wanted to meet up to see if they could hammer this thing out; he thought they were too good together to let what they had go so easily. In theory, Clare agreed, and oh, how she’d love to see him again. But there was the tiny issue of kids and the people carrier . . .

  Unless he was open to changing his mind? She looked at the words in front of her. He hadn’t said as much, but . . . A flicker of hope went through her. Maybe she’d give him a call when she was back from her parents’. The possibility of hearing his warm voice made her heart jump as she grabbed the shiny present from the table, threw on a coat, and slammed the door behind her.

  A couple of hours later, Clare grinned into her father’s cheery face as he stood at the entrance of the house where she’d grown up. Tikki curled in and out of his legs. ‘Hi, Dad. Sorry I’m late. The trains were a nightmare.’

  Dad shook his head, his neat grey hair still showing comb tracks. Every time she saw him, there was more and more white in his bristling beard, but his eyes were just as blue as she remembered. ‘I don’t know why you don’t get a car. With your salary, you could certainly afford one. What’s the point of all those years in medical school if you’re not going to treat yourself to some creature comforts?’

  Clare rolled her eyes. She’d heard this refrain a million times, on everything from the car to her rented flat. Sure, she could buy a car and her own home, too, but for some reason the thought of it made her uneasy. She liked being able to hop on the Tube or train without worrying about parking or upkeep. ‘Where’s Tam? I brought her something for Mother’s Day.’

  ‘She’s in the kitchen baking your favourite cake.’ Her father opened the door even wider and ushered Clare inside. The aroma of rich chocolate cake brought Clare back to the days when that dessert was the only thing making life bearable. For a brief instant, as she bit into the warm, spongy goodness, she could forget Mum’s absence had left a gaping hole in her heart that no cake could fill, no matter how many she ate.

  ‘Oh, yum!’ Despite the heaviness in her stomach, she could always handle cake. Clare gave her dad a hug, then hurried down the narrow corridor towards the kitchen, where she could hear Tam cheerily humming away to a tune on the radio. Tam’s plump, matronly figure was a sharp contrast to Clare’s memory of her mum: slim body and high cheekbones like a model in a magazine. Clare drew a hand to her cheek. Dad used to say she was the spitting image of her mother, a sentiment that made Clare quiver with anxiety. She might look like Mum, but no way did she want to be anything like her. Nothing excused leaving a husband and child just because you decided they weren’t for you.

  Thank goodness Tam had come into her life. Soft and gentle, Tam was the only mother figure Clare wanted to remember today. She shoved all other thoughts of Mum from her head and breathed in the heady scent of cake again.

  ‘Happy Mother’s Day! Sorry I’m a little late.’ Clare threw her arms around Tam, inhaling in the aroma of talcum powder mixed with vanilla and cinnamon. She drew back and held up the chocolates. ‘I brought these for you.’

  Tam’s cheeks coloured with pleasure, and she wiped her hands on an apron before reaching out to take the gift. ‘Thank you, love. Come on, sit down. I want to catch up with what’s going on in your life! It’s been ages since we’ve seen you.’

  Clare sank onto a floral cushion tied to the roomy pine chair, trying to hide a smile as she noted several cushions now adorned each seat. Tam had a thing for pillows and cushions, and every time Clare came home, she noticed the number had multiplied. It was as if Tam was trying to cover the sparseness left by Clare’s mum and provide a soft landing for Clare and her dad. Well, she had certainly done just that.

  ‘Sorry I haven’t been by,’ Clare said, pushing back her dark hair. ‘My schedule’s been all over the place lately.’

  Tam placed a glass of orange juice in front of Clare, and Clare grinned. Despite telling Tam over and over she’d moved into the wonderful world of caffeine, Tam still insisted on giving her the juice she’d always drunk as a child. Clare took a sip, the citrusy flavour exploding in her mouth.

  ‘I don’t know how anyone can live a normal life with such topsy-turvy hours,’ Tam tutted as she poured herself a glass and slid into the chair across from Clare. ‘How can they expect you to do that?’

  Clare shrugged. ‘It’s just the way it is. You get used to it after a while.’

  ‘And what about the men in your life?’ Tam asked, her brown eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. ‘You still with that one . . . what was his name, Edward? The one you told me about at Christmastime?’

  Oh, God. Had she actually broken her cardinal rule and mentioned a man to Tam? Why, oh why had she done that? She knew talking to Tam about relationships in her life was like drawing a moth to a flame. Tam was desperate to pair her off and have grandchildren, despite Clare’s constant refrain that she didn’t want kids. She seemed to think Clare was going through a phase and kept waiting for her maternal clock to start ticking. Clare hadn’t the heart to tell her she’d be waiting forever.

  ‘Um, no.’ Clare sipped her juice. ‘We broke up a couple weeks ago.’ The spark of hope at Edward’s earlier message flared again. Was there a chance they’d work things out?

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, honey.’ Tam reached over and squeezed Clare’s hand.

  ‘It’s all right.’ Clare forced a bright smile. ‘There are plenty of fish in the sea.’ Tam had always told her that when she’d had her heart broken in secondary school. Shame it didn’t seem to be true. ‘So tell me about these cushions!’ She knew Tam wouldn’t be able to resist filling her in on the latest additions to the collection.

  But this time, Tam didn’t take the bait. Her normally cheery face was serious as she fixed Clare with her big brown eyes. ‘Clare, listen. There’s something your dad wanted me to talk to you about.’

  Clare tilted her head, wondering at her stepmum’s solemn expression. ‘Why can’t he talk to me himself?’

  ‘Well, he finds anything to do with your mother a little difficult,’ Tam said. ‘So I told him I’d mention it to you.’

  ‘My mother?’ Clare felt her throat tighten. ‘What about her?’

  ‘Well, honey, as you know, she’s been in York for the past little bit, working at the university.’

  Clare nodded, her eyes fixed firmly on Tam’s face. Yes, she remembered Tam telling her something like that, along with the fact that Clare’s mother wanted her to get in touch. Clare hadn’t even considered it—Mum hadn’t been in contact for years after she’d left, and Clare wasn’t going to rekindle the relationship now.

  Grimacing, she recalled how devastated she’d been on her sixteenth birthday when Mum failed to ring. Despite the years of silence, Clare had been convinced Mum would call—she’d always said turning sixteen was a major milestone, and she couldn’t wait to celebrate with her daughter. Clare’s friends had tried to persuade her to go out, but she’d made an excuse to linger by the phone.

  The phone had stayed silent, and Clare had lain on her bed for hours, staring glumly at the ceiling. Finally, Tam had knocked on the door with a piece of her legendary chocolate cake and a glass of juice.

  ‘There’s more of that downstairs, along with some presents from Dad and me. Why don’t you come on down and we can celebrate your sixteenth together?’ She’d smiled and reached out to touch Clare’s shoulder, but Clare had shrugged her off, wrapping her arms around her knees.

  ‘I’m busy,’ she’d mumbled, not even making the effort to look occupied. Tam would get the hint.

  But something must have been wrong with Tam’s radar, because she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she’d sat down beside Clare on the bed. Clare had shifted, not wanting anyone to see the hurt and anger on her face.

  ‘Love, I know you were hoping your mother would get in touch
, and I’m sorry you haven’t heard from her. I’m sure she’s thinking about you and she’ll call when she can. In the meantime, your father and I are all set to celebrate with you.’ She’d leaned over and stroked Clare’s hair, and Clare had jerked away.

  ‘I don’t want you or Dad. I want Mum!’ The words burst from her in a shout, and as soon as she’d said them, she realised it was her mother she was angry with, not Tam. But it was too late; they were out.

  Without saying more, Tam had got up and walked away. She’d closed the door softly behind her, and Clare had felt even worse than before. And when she’d crept downstairs and noticed the huge chocolate cake Tam had decorated for her, along with the elaborately wrapped gifts that clearly weren’t the work of her father, guilt squeezed her gut like a vice.

  ‘Your mum wasn’t sure how to reach you now,’ Tam continued, ‘so she contacted us here. She’s accepted a job in London, at King’s College working in the fundraising office. She still wants to see you . . . or at least get in touch.’ Tam’s voice was soft and gentle, as if she knew how each word was twisting Clare’s insides.

  ‘I’d rather not,’ Clare said firmly. ‘My mother’s involvement in my life is behind me. She wanted out, and I want to keep it that way.’ London or not, proximity didn’t mean they were any closer to reconnecting.

  Tam reached across the table and took Clare’s hand. ‘It’s not always that easy to separate the past from the present,’ she said. ‘And sometimes it’s better not to. You and your mum could still have a relationship if you gave her a chance.’

  Clare raised her eyebrows at Tam’s words. A relationship? As if! People didn’t change that easily, and if Mum had been able to choose a new life over her daughter once, she’d ditch her again, if need be. And what was Tam on about, claiming it was better not to separate the past from the present? When the past included a mother who abandoned you, Clare didn’t doubt for a second she was better off keeping those memories high up on a shelf, gathering as much dust as they possibly could. The only way to look was forward—in life and relationships.

  A dart of sadness hit as she pictured Edward’s dark eyes, an expression of tenderness on his face as he typed this morning’s message. Was he best left behind, too? Clare sighed as she realised the answer was probably yes. The issue of children was insurmountable, and opening that door again would only lead to more hurt and pain. They’d done the hard bit and broken up once. Clare wasn’t keen to prolong the torture.

  Anyway, she wasn’t looking for a serious, committed relationship now. Nicholas, with his easy humour and hard-to-tie-down lifestyle, was the ideal fit for her. In fact, when she got home, she’d ring him up and ask him out to dinner. There was no reason she had to wait around for him to get in touch.

  ‘Have a think about it.’ Tam stood, fluffing up the pillow she’d been sitting on. ‘I’ll forward her number to you in case you change your mind.’

  Clare nodded and smiled, although she knew the chances of her reaching out to Mum were about as likely as the Queen sporting a mullet.

  ‘Hey, any chance of some cake?’ Clare’s dad stuck his head around the kitchen door, eyebrows raised hopefully.

  ‘Sure.’ Tam bustled over to the counter where the chocolate cake was standing in all its glory, and Clare breathed a sigh of relief the subject of her mother was closed.

  Clare watched her father smile over at Tam as she placed a piece of cake before him. She’d never have thought it at the time, but Mum leaving was a good thing in the long run. She’d got her freedom, and Clare and Dad had got a woman for whom being a mum was a ready-made role.

  Everything had turned out for the best.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Anna hurried home from Books on the Hill, hoping Michael wasn’t back from work already. It was almost five on Friday, and she wanted to pack his case in readiness for the surprise getaway. As soon as he came in the door—and before he’d even a chance to think about booting up games—she’d hand him his bag, bundle him into the car to Heathrow, and they’d be in Venice by midnight.

  Excitement coursed through her as she pictured the swank hotel she’d got a great deal on. It was minutes from Piazza San Marco, and the description had said when you opened your window, you could hear canal water lapping the building’s facade. The hefty deposit was non-refundable, and with the cost of the flights the trip had pretty much wiped out the small savings she’d set aside from her job. But it was more than worth it. She couldn’t believe after all this time she was finally going to her dream location.

  Anna smiled at the clichéd vision that drifted into her head: the two of them, locked in a passionate embrace while floating down the canal in a gondola as accordion music echoed off buildings around them. She’d even bought some new lingerie, in racy red lace that Michael loved. If ever there was a weekend to christen it, this was it. In such a romantic venue and away from the usual daily grind, her husband was certain to regain his missing libido.

  She unlocked the front door and scurried inside, heart dropping when she heard the telltale sound of explosions and gunshots. Oh, bollocks, Michael had made it home before her for once. But that was all right, she told herself. They wouldn’t have to rush as much and he could pack whatever he liked.

  Her heart thumped and her grin grew bigger. She couldn’t wait to tell him they were off and see his reaction! She stuck her head around the corner of the lounge.

  ‘Guess what? We’re . . . ’ Her voice trailed away as she spotted not just Michael but two other men all crowded around the television, each holding a console in one hand and a beer in the other.

  ‘Oh, hi, honey.’ Michael glanced over and smiled before turning his attention back to the game. ‘You know Grant and Mo, right?’ The men threw her a quick hello.

  Anna nodded. ‘Yes, I think we’ve met.’ Shit, she thought, her mind frantically turning over. What was she going to do now? If she and Michael didn’t leave by seven, they’d miss their flight. His friends couldn’t be staying too long, could they? They must have better things to do on a Friday evening than play on the Xbox. God, tonight of all nights, Michael had to be pally-pally with his workmates. He used to say he reserved Fridays for her. When had that stopped?

  ‘Sweetie, can you grab me another beer?’ Michael asked, not even averting his eyes from the screen. ‘Guys, you want one, too?’ The other men nodded, and Anna turned on her heel and made her way to the kitchen. For goodness’ sake, she hadn’t even taken off her coat yet! An unfamiliar flicker of anger rose within her, and she switched on the light, blinking as the gleaming steel appliances came into focus.

  It’s not Michael’s fault, she told herself as she grabbed three cans from the fridge. He had no idea what she’d planned. She drew in a deep breath as she walked back to the lounge. It was only five, and if the guys left in the next hour, there’d be plenty of time to catch the plane. Maybe she’d pack Michael’s case now to save a few minutes. Anna handed over the drinks to the monosyllabic men, then padded up the stairs, listening closely for the sound of the door opening and closing as she kept one eye on the clock.

  Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour, then forty-five minutes . . . Finally, when she’d folded Michael’s underwear more times than necessary and she couldn’t prolong the packing any longer, she perched on the side of the bed. She hated to barge in on the fun downstairs, but they couldn’t afford to wait much more. Rushing turned Michael into a ball of stress, and she wanted to start their weekend on a good note.

  She was about to stand when Michael appeared at the bedroom door. A whoosh of relief went through her. Oh phew, they must have finished. Now she didn’t need to interrupt their fun.

  Michael’s gaze fell on the open case beside her on the bed. ‘Aw, thanks, honey. I could have done that myself, though.’

  Anna’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t said anything about going away. So why was he thanking her?

 
‘Did you put in my green jumper? It’s the warmest I have, I think—it gets quite cold, even at this time of year.’

  Had he somehow discovered their destination, Anna wondered, confusion sweeping over her? But how? Spring nights in Venice could get chilly, but she was certain she’d left no trace of the getaway anywhere.

  ‘Ah, there it is.’ Michael looked up from rifling through the case. ‘Thanks so much. You’re a star!’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘I reckon we’re almost ready to set off, then.’

  Anna’s mouth fell open and she snapped it closed, trying to cover her surprise. He’d obviously found out . . . God knows how. But however he’d uncovered her plan, at least he seemed happy and excited. Part of her had worried he’d balk at going away. ‘I guess so!’ She reached up and touched his cheek, smiling at the thought of the weekend ahead. ‘Just let me print off the hotel details and directions.’

  ‘Oh, no need.’ Michael waved a hand in the air. ‘Mo’s got everything sorted. He’s a little obsessive that way.’

  Anna drew back. Mo? What on earth was Michael talking about?

  ‘Anyway,’ Michael continued, ‘Mo’s been there a there a few times before, so he knows the route. Best place to golf in Scotland, he says!’

  Anna’s heart dropped so fast she could swear it crashed through the floor into the room below. Best place to golf in Scotland? The shouts and laughter of the men drifted from downstairs as she frantically tried to assimilate her husband’s words.

  ‘I didn’t know you were going away this weekend,’ she finally managed to croak.

  Michael didn’t seem to notice the choked way the words left her mouth. ‘What? Really?’ Now it was his turn to look puzzled. ‘I’m sure I told you when we booked it a couple months ago.’