The Idea of You

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘That sounds good.’

  ‘It is. And at the end of it, I have made a beautiful garment that I am always really proud of,’ she admitted. ‘And although this doesn’t look like much at the moment, it will become something really lovely. If I ever get the hang of it. I must confess I’m struggling, but I won’t let it defeat me.’ She held up the measly few rows that sat in a thick cluster on her needles.

  ‘Is this what you are knitting, this blanket?’ Camille closed the page and looked at the picture on the front, a photograph of the finished article; the blanket was folded in half with the lace edge dangling down and a small brown knitted rabbit perching on the top of the woolly mattress.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded.

  ‘I like the little rabbit. Are you going to do one of those too?’

  ‘I hadn’t planned on it, no.’ She saw the flicker of disappointment on Camille’s face, as if she might like such a thing.

  ‘Is it a blanket for Maisie?’

  ‘Not really, she’s a bit big for this now.’ She felt a flush of embarrassment creep over her chest, wondering what Camille’s next question might be.

  ‘It’s for a baby,’ Camille stated.

  ‘Yes.’

  There were one, two, three beats of silence. Lucy silently prayed that the girl wouldn’t probe too deeply, knowing she would sob if she were to have to recount her attempts at becoming a mum.

  ‘Do you think you and Dad might have a baby?’ she asked, keeping her eyes downward as she toyed with the anklet that Fay had sent her.

  Lucy shook her head and took a breath. ‘I don’t know, is the honest answer.’ She felt the sudden knife-like stab of period pain to the left of her belly button, a reminder of just how far away that dream was. ‘I think I would like to have one.’ She hesitated, knowing this was best, this watered-down version of her all-consuming desire to become a mum. ‘But I guess it’s up to nature. I can only do so much.’ She coughed, realising that she was talking about sex – and not any old sex, but sex with this girl’s dad. Camille pulled a face at her and they both laughed.

  ‘I think you’d be a good mum.’

  Lucy stared at her; the words tripped so lightly from her stepdaughter’s tongue, she could have had no clue as to just how much they meant.

  ‘Really?’ Lucy whispered, swallowing the rising tide of joy that almost choked her.

  ‘Yeah, I mean, you do great birthdays!’ She smiled. ‘That was awesome this morning. My balloons are so cool.’

  Lucy took Camille’s hand into hers; it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

  ‘I’m having the best day.’

  ‘Good.’ She gave a small nod, as she released her grip.

  Camille stood, a little embarrassed by the display, and thumbed towards her room. ‘I’d better go and get ready. Dex will be here in a couple of hours.’

  Lucy nodded, and she tried to imagine a time when she had taken two hours to get ready for a boy. She picked up the needles, reopened the pattern and resumed her knitting with a bubble of joy in her gut that buoyed her.

  ‘I’m a bit nervous,’ Jonah confessed, as Lucy popped a bottle of champagne in the fridge and laid a cloth over the individual tarts she had warmed, the aroma of goat’s cheese, scorched scallion and melting Gruyère wafting up her nose.

  ‘Don’t be. It’ll be fine. Imagine being a weedy seventeen-year-old, off to meet the parents. He must be petrified. The poor lamb.’

  ‘I guess so.’ He seemed to relax a little.

  With everything set, they took the opportunity to sit and read the newspaper. Jonah pulled the Saturday edition in half, keeping the sports and handing her the news and celebrity gossip. They sat in amiable silence at the table with their thighs touching, both lost in the fine, opinionated print. Their peace was eventually shattered by the sound of the front doorbell. The two exchanged a knowing look and hastily folded the newspaper away before leaping into action.

  Before the faint echo of the bell had receded, Camille thundered down the stairs. ‘I’ll get it!’ her voice screamed in panic at the prospect of either Lucy or Jonah getting to the door first.

  Lucy stood on tiptoes and kissed her husband on the cheek before removing the Pru Plum creation from the fridge and placing it once again in the centre of the table, turning it so that the words were facing the door. She heard the high-pitched laugh of infatuation leave her stepdaughter’s mouth. It was one she recognised, a heady burble that told anyone within earshot that she was completely enamoured. She remembered emitting something similar with her first love, Scott, as they walked to his house during lunch break. She knew it was a glorious release for the fireworks of happiness that fired within. The memory of that time made her stomach bunch; it had felt wonderful. She had revelled in that happiness, blissfully unaware of what lay ahead.

  Camille opened the kitchen door and with a blush to her cheek, smiling widely, announced, ‘Dad, Lucy, this is Dex.’

  Lucy had been wrong on a couple of counts. Dex certainly didn’t appear to be nervous, he wasn’t the least bit weedy and he was certainly no petrified lamb. She felt Jonah’s stare bore into the side of her face, but she refused to acknowledge it, keeping her eyes resolutely fixed on their guest.

  Stepping forward, she smiled at the hulk of a boy standing before them in his black skinny jeans and scruffy Vans. His ripped muscles, visible in his tank top, gleamed beneath a slick of moisturiser. His dark curly hair was artfully styled into a short but fierce Mohawk and his face was beautiful. Lucy could see the attraction. She reached out her hand to shake Dex’s, as he hastily swapped hands, placing his large, unwieldy skateboard in his left and shaking with his right.

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Dex.’ She smiled.

  ‘Yep, same.’ He returned her smile, to reveal an impressive set of straight white teeth. Lucy looked at Camille, who stared up at Dex with a doe-eyed expression that looked like something beyond love. The atmosphere around the two crackled with a level of intensity that fired a bolt of concern through her gut. Her instinct told her that this relationship was way more than just a couple of kids having fun.

  ‘And I’m Jonah, Camille’s father.’ Jonah coughed.

  Lucy watched as he stepped forward and gave the boy a brief but firm handshake. She noted that he had rejected the less intimidating word ‘dad’, and it made her heart flip with love for her man who, she could see despite her earlier reassurance, was more than a little out of his depth.

  ‘Can I park that for you?’ Lucy pointed at the skateboard.

  ‘Oh yeah, thanks!’ He handed it over with both hands, as if it was a thing of a delicate nature, a precious object, and she realised that to him it might well be.

  ‘Happy birthday, Cam.’ He handed her a slender tissue-wrapped package that he had pulled from the back pocket of his jeans.

  ‘Oh wow, thank you. I told you not to get me anything,’ she scoffed, clearly beyond delighted that he had ignored her. Camille turned the gift over in her hands and carefully ripped one end of the tissue, as if trying to be contained and grown-up in every action. ‘No way!’ She hugged the two strips of dark card to her chest before throwing her arms around Dex’s neck with abandon. He placed a strong arm across her back, anchoring her close to him.

  Jonah coughed again.

  ‘Tickets to see Foals! Oh my God! Thank you!’ Camille waved them at Lucy, as she broke free from Dex’s hold.

  Their close physical proximity told Lucy that this was not the first time they had been this intimate; there was no hint of awkwardness, no first-time nerves, no fumbling hands or respectful distance. They slid together in a well-rehearsed dance. There was an obvious ease between the two physically as their bodies aligned, demonstrating a comfortable familiarity. This single action made a mockery of Jonah’s suggestion that the two might just be friends.

  She decided this would be one insight that would need very careful handling; she would have to choose her phrases well. She considered the prospect with a me
asure of dread. How was she going to broach the fact that, in her opinion, Camille and Dex were enjoying a lot more than a spin around Queen’s Park on his bike?

  As the four took seats at the kitchen table, she and Jonah chose chairs on one side and Dex and Camille sat close together on the pew by the wall with their thighs touching, just as she and her husband had done earlier, despite the bench having adequate space for three.

  Jonah poured four flutes of champagne.

  ‘Oh wow! Do you do this every day?’ Dex grinned, holding the delicate stem between his fingers.

  ‘Yes, every day we stop whatever we are doing for champagne and cake!’ Lucy smiled. ‘Actually, wouldn’t that be lovely? I think we should introduce it as a house rule.’

  ‘In that case, I shall see you at the same time tomorrow,’ he quipped.

  ‘And you would be most welcome,’ Lucy said.

  Camille gave her a look of such warmth that she seemed to be lit up from within, and Lucy basked in the reflection.

  ‘Actually,’ Dex said after taking a small sip of his fizz, ‘I think if you did this every day it would become normal, and that would be such a shame if an occasion like this didn’t feel special.’

  ‘You are absolutely right.’ Lucy smiled at the boy, warming to his easy manner and smart insights.

  ‘So, Dex,’ Jonah began, ‘Camille tells me you are at college?’

  ‘Yes.’ He chewed and swallowed the mouthful of crumbly tart, placing his hand over his mouth as he spoke. ‘I’m at the City of Westminster College doing a course in Music Tech.’

  ‘So do you play instruments?’

  She watched Jonah’s face light up at the prospect; given his love of music, this would definitely elevate the boy in his opinion.

  Dex shook his head and took a sip of his drink. ‘No, I don’t. I wish I did. I’m learning the piano, but I’m pretty rubbish. What I do is more around music technology.’

  ‘Right.’ Jonah nodded, clearly having no more of an idea than she did.

  ‘What does that mean, Dex?’ she asked, on their joint behalf.

  ‘Okay, so it’s like basically using computers and technology to compose music, edit stuff or improve someone else’s composition,’ he explained with enthusiasm. ‘You need the ear of a composer, the rhythm of a musician, but you also need to know how to program.’

  ‘Gosh, it sounds complicated.’

  The boy shook his head. ‘Not really.’

  ‘Dex had a gig in Ibiza at the beginning of the summer, just before I met him,’ Camille added brightly, as if trying to bolster the boy’s CV. ‘His stuff is really good. It’s all over YouTube and he gets asked to do sets all the time!’ the girl continued with her PR offensive.

  ‘Were you playing at a party in Ibiza?’

  Lucy loved how Jonah was trying, feeling a swell of affection for her man.

  Dex’s smile was one of warmth, without the condescension she might have expected in someone of his age. ‘It was a bit like a party, yes. It’s a huge outdoor nightclub that holds around five thousand people.’

  ‘Five thousand?’ she queried. ‘Goodness me.’

  ‘Yes, I know, it’s mad,’ he agreed. ‘There are different dance floors and huge terraces – it’s crazy. But I can earn more there in a couple of nights than in a whole month of my regular jobs here, so it’s worth it,’ he explained.

  Lucy remembered Camille’s description of how Dex had no family to speak of and no support. It tore at her heart to see this young man who was self-sufficient, without the wonderful network that she or indeed Camille enjoyed.

  Dex continued: ‘People think it’s just a case of standing in the booth and pressing a few buttons but it’s so much more than that. It’s not enough to just pitch up with your playlist. You have to feel the tempo of the room and respond to that, making sure you don’t drop a beat, fading one tune into the other in a way that builds and builds. It’s like you are taking people on a journey. And if you get it right, they are dancing, lost and they don’t realise that you are on to the next tune or the next. You carry them along on a wave of sound.’

  Lucy noted the slight glaze to his eyes. ‘Do you really love it?’

  ‘I do!’ He nodded. ‘When you look out and there are thousands and thousands of people dancing to your music, it’s like you’re a puppeteer, making them all jump.’ He shook his head, as if reliving it. ‘And then after you finish your set, you slip into the crowd and no one recognises you, but you know inside what you have just achieved and it feels amazing.’ He paused, and Lucy got the distinct impression that he was going to share a confidence. ‘But what I really want to do is write scores for films; that would be the dream.’

  ‘Well, I think if you have passion for something that is half the battle.’ She nodded and finished her glass of champagne.

  ‘Plus, he’s really good. He’s going to have a brilliant career,’ Camille gushed. Lucy would have been willing to bet that the girl saw a flash of his future and, if her fervid manner was anything to go by, she was certain that Camille saw herself in that picture too.

  ‘So how much longer do you have at college?’ Jonah steered the conversation into less emotive waters.

  ‘I’m just about to go into my final year, which will be cool, as I get to pick the modules that I really want to study and I may even get a placement within the industry, although they are rare, but also, I get at least one year with Camille. It’ll be really nice.’ He smiled at the birthday girl.

  Both she and Jonah, still with their smiles fixed, looked from Dex to Camille and then each other.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Judging from Jonah’s expression, he, like her, was more than a little confused. Lucy was wondering if Dex was planning to go to France, and tried to guess what Geneviève would make of that.

  Camille sat forward. Her fingers fidgeted against each other on the tabletop, her cheeks blushed and her posture was that of someone who wanted to flee the room.

  ‘I was going to say,’ she began, shooting a quick look at Dex – whether to gain confidence or in reprimand, it was hard to tell – ‘I am applying to Dex’s college to study fashion design. It’s a two-year course. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do in France, but this makes more sense. I only applied a few days ago, but they’ve already offered me an interview. So I may as well go and see what happens. I’m really excited.’ She eyed Lucy with obvious nerves.

  There was a second or two of silence while Jonah stared at his daughter and Lucy felt the flutter of anxiety in her chest. It was one thing having the girl here for a break, and she had to admit the last couple of days had been more than pleasant. But, as unpalatable as it was, she was certain that the reason for this was that she knew Camille’s time here was coming closer to the end.

  ‘Well, I never!’ Jonah sat back in the chair, looking a little winded.

  ‘What do you think, Lucy?’ Camille asked, looking up at her through lowered lids.

  ‘I think we need to eat this birthday cake!’ she offered with more gusto than she felt, as she went to fetch a sharp knife.

  Oh, your birthday! What a day that would be. I would make you a cake and decorate the house with banners, before creeping into your room with a fistful of balloons and confetti and a cupcake with a single candle in it. This would become one of our traditions, so no matter how old you got, you’d always wake to a cupcake, with pink frosting of course, and a single candle. If for any reason I couldn’t be with you on that day, you’d make one for yourself or someone you loved would buy you one, and holding that cupcake would make you feel close to me wherever you were in the world. Your birthday would be a day for great, great celebration, the day my life changed. The day I got you, the day I gave my heart away . . .

  THIRTEEN

  Lucy took her time in the bathroom, spending an age cleaning and flossing her teeth, removing her make-up, cleansing and toning her skin, and even giving the toilet a good bleaching. She did anything she could to delay having the next conversation with
her husband. She knew that for them, when it came to Camille, it was a bit like being friendly supporters of two neighbouring teams that never played each other, making amicability and gentle ribbing possible. But boy oh boy – when they did eventually meet on the field, she knew they could expect a good fight.

  The birthday tea had been nice, the fancy cake a great success, and Dex very good company. The second bottle of champagne that she and Jonah had shared before the kids left the house for the late-night cinema also helped their Saturday pass in a slight haze of fuzzy happiness. But the effect of the alcohol had long since dulled. It was now bedtime, and they were going to be alone, free for the first time to discuss Camille’s announcement. Lucy dotted moisturiser onto her face and neck before rubbing it in. Unable to think of another thing to do short of polishing the tiles, she pulled the light cord and made her way into the bedroom. Jonah was already in bed, sitting up and reading the headlines on his tablet.

  ‘I think everyone’s had a good time today.’ She smiled, tucking the lightweight duvet over her legs.

  ‘You did her proud, you really did. What do we make of young Dex?’ He swiped the screen and put the tablet face down on his bedside table.

  ‘I thought he was lovely. Not what I was expecting at all.’ She whispered this confession as she massaged hand cream into her cuticles, even though they were alone. Whispering made the gossip seem more palatable.

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I suppose if I tried to picture a seventeen-year-old, I thought he’d be like a boy, but he’s clearly manly, grown-up. And very mature.’ She trod with caution.

  ‘Yes. I didn’t know whether to be happy that she was in safe hands – I’m sure he can look after her should they ever run into trouble – or devastated because she’s still my little girl.’ He yawned.