We sat outside. Cece’s garden was still incredibly warm even though gone 9pm. Daylight’s dimmer switch had been turned down and shadows gathered. Clouds soaked up the red ink spill from the sun turning the sky from crimson to purple.
I was nervous. We all were.
I told myself we would sit down together, catch up. It would be like old times when Suzanne got here.
Cece fussed about and I realised that she was unsettled; nervous, too, which didn’t fill me with great confidence.
“Drinks, nibbles?” she asked.
“Definitely drinks,” I replied.
Then Suzanne was here.
“She should not look good in that,” said Cece pointing the finger at Suzanne who walked through the door in a startling neon-yellow ruffled silk-chiffon and lace blouse with matching skirt. She hollered at Suzanne. “Grandmothers decorate fine-wood furniture in lace doilies like that. How do you do it?”
Suzanne’s cheeks dimpled as she smiled. “It’s the heat. I’m dying. Fabric with holes from now to forever.”
We rushed over to welcome her.
“I’ve come straight from the studio,” she panted. “Finally, more space to work.”
She hugged us hard, fizzing with enthusiasm. “I’ve missed you all stupidly. Unfortunately, setting up the new studio has been time-consuming work. I’m on a creative buzz right now. Everything is coming together.”
“Even with Ted around?” Cece asked casually.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Yes!” she beamed. “We are taking it slow, which is good. We are good.”
She turned her attention to me and asked about Corset–and how terrifically exciting it was to see a Gracie Gold dress on the cover of a magazine.
Kate was quiet and I sensed impatience. She seemed exasperated with Suzanne, curt with questions and answers, although, fortunately, it went unnoticed. Cece, meanwhile, exchanged meaningful looks with Kate: ambush imminent.
“Drinks?” I asked, heading to the kitchen.
Cece followed me. “I don’t like this any more than you do,” she hissed.
I could sense that Cece was about to back down but, at that moment, Kate joined us. “I’m going to speak to her,” she said, holding her glass out for a refill.
“She seems happy,” I said lamely.
“He walked out on his daughter,” snapped Kate.
“Okay, so we tell her what we know,” reasoned Cece. “We’re not asking her to make any decisions. She does what she wants with the truth.”
I grabbed a bottle of white wine. “I’m not convinced.”
Cece tried to reassure me. “For all we know, he’s told her–we could be getting fussed up over nothin’.”
“Not nothing,” said Kate.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, taking a deep breath and shutting the fridge door.
“Do what?” asked Suzanne, standing on the top step leading into the kitchen.
We must have looked as though we were trying to steal gold from the bank vault because Suzanne frowned, puzzled. “What’s up?”
Kate cleared her throat. “Let’s go outside.”
Dear God, I won’t forget what happened next in a hurry. It will be one of those memories that will never be buried too deep: I will be able to access it easily; a word will trigger it; scent of perfume; the smell of burning candles. It will bring it all flooding back.
Quietness settled over us; perhaps cities do sleep or more likely people simply grind to a halt. Unlike us, families would be relaxing before bedtime, curled up on sofas staring at television screens, beating off the punishing heat with a dark room.
I see stars that could outshine a high-noon sun. I can feel the faintest breeze at last, sensing there will soon be a break in the hot weather. I am aware of my heavy heartbeat.
Kate sat down and started talking, sparing no details as the revelations rolled out. Cece backed her up with the occasional comment but it was Kate who was the driving force; powering on with the horsepower of a four-cylinder petrol engine. The running order of events was as follows: Crieff, Sophia and, trump card, the child.
Suzanne made herself as small as possible, knees tucked up to her chin; arms hooked round the front of her shins, defensive position. She’d carefully placed her glass of Champagne on the table when Kate started to speak.
Ted hadn’t told her. That was obvious. She was losing him over again and it was excruciatingly painful to watch.
“He walked out on them like he walked out on you,” said Kate.
“Hon, we thought you should know.” Cece leaned forward towards Suzanne and placed a hand on the arm of her chair. “This is the kind of person he is.”
Suzanne looked out into the garden; twilight had blurred trees. She fingered a silk button on her blouse.
“You’ll get through this,” whispered Cece, making a move to go to her; comfort her.
Suzanne abruptly leaned forward in her seat, tense. Her lips seemed to curl back with wolfish aggression. “And how the fuck would you know?”
I had never ever heard Suzanne swear until now and the effect, swear to God, was like touching an electric fence. We all bounced in our seats, shocked.
Cece hesitated, confused. “Darlin’, I… meant that… we’ll always be here for you.”
“Really?”
I stared at Suzanne, transfixed. It was as though an exorcism had taken over; veins throbbed at the side of head while her lips turned white.
“You had no right! If Ted didn’t want me to know then it is for good reason.”
“Ted is the one you should be shoutin’ at,” said Cece, miffed. “Not us.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Yeah. He is.”
“NO! I have to sit and listen to you; it’s always about you: Michael this, Hugh that, Ribbons. Your daily dramas. You couldn’t let this one go, could you?”
The fire fizzled out of Cece’s hot air balloon; burned out. I felt sorry for her. Kate did too because she stepped in. “It wasn’t Cece’s decision to you tell. It was mine.”
Spinning head, Suzanne turned on Kate. “Why?”
“Damn it, Suzanne. He has a daughter. She’s out there wondering whether the person she loves most in the world will come home. You know how that feels.”
“It’s different.”
“Exactly! She is five years old. How does she get her head around that?”
“You’ve heard one side of the story.”
“The other side? He denies he has a child?”
“I never said that.”
“He’s abandoned her.”
“You haven’t talked to him. I love him. I couldn’t love him if he was a… a monster.”
“Chrissakes, Suzanne, she is five years old. Her mother will do her best to comfort her but it’ll never be enough. She will think him leaving is her fault. She will always think that.”
Kate was screaming. I closed my eyes. Dear God, this was worse than I ever imagined.
Suzanne looked incredulous. “This is about what happened to you, not me, isn’t it? You and Cece somehow always own the drama.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“How dare you speak to this other woman behind my back? She took him from me.”
Somehow it didn’t feel right letting Sophia take the fall for Ted. “She had no idea about you; no idea you and Ted were married. It has been an enormous shock–”
“Ted is my husband.”
“He lied to you,” Cece cried, thoroughly exasperated.
“He walked out on his little girl,” added Kate.
Suzanne remained unmoved, defiant. “Ted is a good man.”
I attempted to close the conversation down. “We’re not telling you what to do. There are no more surprises. Isn’t it better to know that? Draw a line under it, move on?”
Suzanne turned on me. “Did you stop to think for a second that I might want to have a baby, be happy?”
“You still can.”
“You thi
nk? I’ve waited and waited and no one’s ever come close to sweeping me off my feet. Ted is The One. He came back. It is meant to be.”
Kate snapped, “Oh, please, Suzanne. Tell me you’re not that naïve.”
Suzanne’s mouth was set in a line, stubborn. “I’m his wife.”
Kate wasn’t giving up without a fight. “He didn’t tell this other woman he was leaving. You know how that feels. People split up, yes, but they don’t just…vanish.”
“I KNOW HE’S NOT PERFECT,” Suzanne’s voice reached a scream, high as a fire-alarm wail.
It was a breathless night with the right acoustics for a voice to travel across cities and mountains. I closed my eyes and knew the whole world was listening, transfixed, turning down televisions to hear more.
“He’s lived with Sophia longer than he ever lived with you. I hate to say this, babe, but you’re the other woman in this situation.” Cece delivered this in her signature style: brutally blunt.
“Think about the child,” Kate urged. “Get him to make contact with her.”
This set Suzanne off in a spin again. “Your husband abandoned your children. I get that. Ted isn’t Neil. He’s working through some personal issues. He didn’t blow his brains out.”
I gasped. Kate covered her mouth with her hand and turned translucent. I could almost see the city through her.
Cece lost it. She moved with surprising swiftness towards Suzanne and delivered a stinging slap across her face. It was a beyond awful moment.
Shocked, Suzanne staggered backwards from the force of the blow, hand to face.
I close my eyes, bracing myself for the fallout. I have a post-apocalyptic vision; aftermath of a beautiful friendship with debris and destruction strewn for miles.
You can inflict maximum pain by striking bones closest to the skin, such as shins or elbows, my father once said. Or take a stick down on top of the head with a sharp crack. He had a full-sized skeleton at work and would talk Gee and me through the strategies of self-defence. I concluded that you can use a stick to make contact, or an umbrella will do. The truth has devastating impact, too.
Chapter Thirty Six
The Truth Hurts
There is a glacial chill. Shock takes the heat out of the moment and silence suffocates us, leaving an overwhelming emptiness. We stand, holding our breaths, waiting for an eruption but it is not to be. Seconds later, Suzanne picks up her bag and turns to Cece, tears in her voice quickly freezing over. “I’m not your save-Suzanne project any more. Ted came back to me and you’re still alone. I know what you think: ‘Poor pathetic Suzanne. She won’t stand up to Ted and tell him where to go.’ Well, I love him. I never stopped.”
She exhaled a quavering breath. “The fact that he has a daughter is wonderful news. Did it ever occur to you that he was just waiting to find the right moment to tell me?”
Then she turned to Kate. “You need to accept what Neil did. Deal with your own children’s emotional problems and leave me alone.”
Her parting words were saved for me. She lunged, grabbing the wine glass out of my hand, hurling its contents into the garden, while I stood, stupefied.
“You drink too much; always drinking, never facing up to your own life. Well, guess what? Time to sober up and find out what happened to your own husband. Move on. That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it? Yeah, well good luck with that.”
“HE’S A BASTARD,” screamed Cece, as Suzanne turned on her heel and headed for the door. Her loud-speaker announcement could be heard for miles, echoing off hills from here to Greenland. “CHEATER!”
My hand, still holding the shape of the wine glass, shakes violently and I close my eyes, ashamed and hurt. When I open them, Suzanne is gone. We won’t see her again for a long time.
The sun had lost its edge. Not so much fiery brightness but a more measured heat. The festival had rolled out of town and the place reverted to life before stand up. Echoes of applause drowned out by the rigours of everyday routine. This comedown affected time and it seemed as though we were stuck in September forever.
One late afternoon, I turned up at Ribbons unannounced to find Cece ploughing through about seven pounds of macaroni cheese. Grey Goose vodka on the side.
“Kate thinks I don’t do comfort food,” she said, waving me over with her fork. “Trust me, Lori Loveheart, I do comfort food.”
“You okay?”
“Morbidly obese.”
Cece might have been under the weather but her wardrobe choice said otherwise: leopard print silk-satin dress and swinging chandelier earrings. I pulled up a chair. “I get worried when I don’t hear from you.”
“I’m alright–gettin’ my Kilimanjaro highs from carbs.”
“I came over to see if you wanted to hear Jim sing tonight. Hear his set and then go for a late supper?”
“Kinda busy.”
“Really?”
At that moment, Kate walked in. “Your therapist called: said today’s goal is to make friends with the person in the mirror.”
Cece pushed her plate away. “Funny ha ha. I’m fine. Nothing a gastric band won’t fix. I’m fine.”
“You didn’t call me back,” said Kate briskly. “You always call me back.”
“It’s subway syndrome. Y’know? Drop in blood pressure. Feelin’ dizzy and nauseous. Like when I’m on the six from New York to Brooklyn.”
Kate trumpeted. “Like when have you ever travelled on public transport, Cecelia Lee? In another lifetime?”
“It’s my fault,” Cece whispered.
“Suzanne?” I asked sympathetically.
Cece swallowed some vodka. “My mother used to say, ‘Toots, you rush in where angels fear to tread.’”
Kate sighed. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should learn how to take a step back.”
“We don’t step back, we move forward,” I reminded her.
“You are our connection,” said Kate, briskly. “You brought us together. You’re the glue that keeps us together.”
“I’m sad,” sniffed Cece.
“How sad?”
“Maria Callas post Onassis.”
“Ah, that sad?” said Kate flinging an arm round Cece’s shoulders, a rare demonstrative moment.
“Uh huh…”
Kate looked at me. “Gonna need more macaroni.”
We ate pasta and talked. Cece cheered up fractionally or maybe the Goose helped. “I met Suzanne over a wedding dress about eight months before I married Hugh,” she explained, maudlin. “She was the pattern cutter not the designer.”
“You got to know each other over fittings?” I asked.
“Yeah… until I asked her what dress she would have designed for me.”
“Big mistake. She wowed you?”
“Commissioned her there and then; and ended up buying both wedding dresses to stop Little Miss Holmes getting into trouble with her boss.”
Kate laughed. “It’s true!”
“Two husbands, three wedding dresses and two funerals– Ain’t that somethin’?”
“Suzanne will come back,” I said. “She champions forgiveness.”
I wanted to believe this but was starting to wonder if this was true. I think we all were. Perhaps even Suzanne couldn’t find her way back from this.
Cece perked up, though. “Dear number-crunching Broadbent brought Kate and I together.” She reached out for Kate’s hand across the table. “Who’d have thought?”
Kate smiled. “It was meant to be.”
“You met through work?” I asked.
“It was the sole reason I was made a partner: Broadbent wanted to make a move on Cece. I’d been working the phones until I starting hanging out with her.”
“Unrequited love, alas,” sighed Cece.
“Being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back is not good,” reprimanded Kate.
“I know that. Lindsey Buckingham didn’t write beautiful love songs about Stevie Nicks, but she sure wrote some beautiful love songs about
him. She said so.”
“Broadbent has no problem when it comes to expressing his feelings for you.”
“He would love me too much.”
“Yeah, well, you would talk too much.”
“I know.”
“But he’s got your back. He won’t see Ribbons go under without a fight.”
“Broadbent has been on board with Ribbons since it launched,” explained Cece.
“He gets his hopes up each time a husband dies.”
“Kate, please,” tutted Cece.
“He asked me to send a wreath to Cece when Hugh passed. Then he asked me to send another wreath when Michael died, which was around three years later. I thought, Shit, either I’ve been in this job too long or here’s someone unluckier in love than I am.”
“She phoned me up to offer her condolences and I invited her to dinner.”
Kate returned the squeeze. “And we’ve been stuck with each other ever since.”
Then there was me, dropping into Ribbons to settle a bill for finger food, I thought.
“It was meant to be,” repeated Kate, as though reading my mind.
Kate phoned me later. She was at home unloading the dishwasher, crashing crockery and cutlery while she spoke. “Cece’s not right. She’s taken this whole Suzanne thing hard.”
“What do we do?”
“I don’t regret it…”
“Regret?”
“Telling Suzanne.”
I sighed. “Y’know, I’ll admit, I had my doubts but it was the right thing to do.”
“You do?” Two plates clattered together. “Shit.”
I held the phone away from my ear. “Yeah, I do. She needed to know the truth.”
“She did, didn’t she?”
“Look, it’s done now. Cece will come round. She’s Cece.”
“You’re right… “
“Kate, are you okay?”
“Sure. I know Cece and I fight like cat and dog but she’s…”
(2013) Four Widows Page 19