Wilde Like Me

by Louise Pentland

  Sure enough, at 9.59 Kath walks in (I can’t remember the last time she bothered knocking) and ‘woooo-ooooo’s me from the hall. ‘Wooooo-oooooo, it’s only me! I’ll put the kettle on. I’ll make a cuppa.’ If she really wanted to do it all herself, she would have just stayed at home and not dithered in at 10 on a Saturday morning (don’t be mean, Robin), so being the good niece I am, I resentfully heave myself off the sofa, leaving Lyla zombied out in her PJs to some programme about animals that run a country (not too dissimilar to the current political climate, actually), and plod into the kitchen.

  Not only has Kath put the kettle on, she’s begun loudly scraping last night’s dinner off the dirty plates and into the bin, run the tap to fill the washing-up bowl (except she’s turned the tap on too hard and all the water is splashing up onto the windowsill and wetting my frames) and loaded the dishwasher. How did she do this in under three minutes? I stand there, embarrassed at the mess but marvelling at her. Here she is, at 10 a.m., dressed and functioning. Here I am, wondering if I could get away with an extra spray of deodorant until bedtime or if I really do need a shower this morning. Once she’s done ninety things I didn’t ask her to do, in ninety seconds, she moves on to opening my post. ‘Oh, lovey, you really must open these bills – some are weeks old – you’ll get behind! And your bank statements, where are you filing those away?’

  ‘Just leave them, please. I just want to open them later when I’m a bit more up and awake, you know?’ I say, flustered that she’s dealing with something I’ve been deliberately burying my head in the sand over. I don’t need this right now. I was happy thinking about Theo and watching Lyla’s programmes. Bills and bank statements were not on my agenda.

  ‘Rise and shine, lovely! It’s a beautiful day! You don’t want to spend all of it inside,’ she trills, continuing to open my post and ignoring my protests.

  ‘That’s sort of exactly what I do want to do, really.’

  ‘Nooooo, you want to get out and about, see the world. My Derek used to say, “Your days might be limited but your enthusiasm doesn’t have to be”. I’ve been feeling so under the weather, you know, with my headaches this week, but the best thing you can do is keep on going and shake it off.’

  ‘Ahhh, bless him.’ I never really know the best thing to say when she talks about Derek. Also I’ve left my phone on the sofa, and I think I can hear a faint buzzing sound.

  ‘Of course, his days were limited, and now it’s up to us to seize each one and make them count,’ she continues, throwing things into the washing-up bowl a bit too vigorously and splashing soapy water onto the worktops. ‘Oh, sorry love! I’ve not been sleeping very well; I’m not awake enough for this,’ she chuckles.

  ‘You do make them count. You do so much, Kath. Look at the clubs you run and the classes you go to. You do a lot, and he’d be proud,’ I say lovingly. She’s really annoying me with that water all over the counters, but now she’s talking about Derek I can’t really do much except be nice.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ she says, giving my hand a tap with a soapy rubber glove. ‘Just hope I start feeling a bit less grotty next week, eh?’

  I still think I can hear my phone buzzing, but it might just be desperation. With Kath chattering on I don’t feel like I can just leave the room and get it.

  Only one week until I see Theo. This time next week I’ll be on my way to a shoot and will have that butterflies-in-my-tummy feeling about meeting him afterwards. He’s taking me out for a fancy dinner. Or maybe just to bed … I don’t care which.

  ‘Are you still all right to have Lyla for me next Saturday?’ I double check.

  ‘Yes, indeedy, can’t wait to have the little petal. Are you working on something nice?’

  ‘Just a shoot. Natalie offered me the lead assistant spot. Since I decided to up my hours it seems like she’s really keen to give me interesting work to do. I think she’s quite pleased with my work, actually. I’m going to stay over.’

  ‘Ohh, a two-day shoot. That’ll be good for the bank balance. You can treat me to lunch, ha ha! Derek and I used to go to lunch every Friday, come rain or shine. It was our little treat to each other. Sometimes we’d have soup. Sometimes a ham sandwich. Oh, my Derek was so particular about his ham sandwiches. He’d—’

  ‘Ahhh, that’s lovely. Well, no, it’s just a one-day shoot, but I’m staying with a … friend for the night and then coming back up on Sunday morning.’

  Kath stops what she’s doing and looks at me, eyes sparkling. ‘A gentleman friend?’ Fuck, she’s astute when she wants to be.

  ‘Ha, yes, no, well, yes.’ Why do I feel like a teenager who’s just been caught kissing her celebrity posters?

  ‘Oh, sweetie, I remember those days,’ she says, peeling the soapy gloves off and leaning up against the sink. I can see her paisley floaty skirt getting wet with all the suds she’s splashed everywhere, but she doesn’t seem to care and keeps on talking. ‘The initial spark of excitement, when everything seems to shine and the world suddenly sings to you. Derek took me for dinner at the Ritz when we first started courting. I wore a flowing mocha silk dress and tied hundreds of coloured ribbons into my hair. It was quite a look. You could get away with things like that in those days,’ she moons. ‘Derek loved it, he said I looked like a bird of paradise, and you know how he loved his birds.’

  ‘He’s called Theo. The man I’m sort of seeing. He works in property,’ I offer from my spot at the kitchen table where I’m putting all the letters back into a pile that I can ignore for another week.

  I don’t think Kath is listening; she’s rested her hands on the side of the sink and is just looking out of the window at this point.

  I take the opportunity to give her a moment alone and fetch my phone. It hasn’t buzzed; I really was just being desperate. I swipe it open to read the last message Theo sent me.

  Goodnight darling. Sleep well x. He cares, and that means something. I can’t believe I’ve landed such a catch.

  I really want to ask him to a PSM thing that’s coming up. Every now and then they organise a dinner out and other halves are invited. I’ve never been to one. It would be a lovely way to feel more part of things. It’s not for a month or so, but already I’m trying to think of how to ask him to it. Or is it too soon? I don’t know. This dating game is so much harder than the apps game was. I wish in real life it was as easy as swipe, swipe, tick.

  After a couple of minutes Kath comes through looking a bit flushed and peaky and I feel guilty. I’ve barely listened to anything she’s said because all I could think about was my phone and how irritated I was that she was looking through my unpaid bills.

  Lyla looks over and jumps straight up to give her a big arms-flung-round-her-waist cuddle. ‘Auntie Kath! I’m glad you’ve come to play!’ she says, arms still holding on. Kath is almost knocked off her feet.

  ‘Goodness me, that’s a lot of love for such a little lady!’ she sing-songs gratefully.

  ‘You smell like gardens, Auntie Kath,’ Lyla replies, inhaling deeply. She’s right. Kath always smells like her patchouli bath oils; her whole house does.

  ‘Lovey, I’m going to leave my tea actually and pop in on Moira. Alan said he’d be writing to the council today about people sellotaping unnecessary posters on the local lamp posts and I want to see the draft.’

  ‘You what?’ Once again I am completely at sea in Auntie Kath’s mad world.

  ‘People are taking the law into their own hands and adhering whatever they fancy to the street fixtures and fittings. It’s just not on. I’m all for a missing cat poster here and there, but now we see furniture for sale, jumble sale dates, all sorts. It’s getting out of hand,’ she says matter-of-factly, as though this is a heinous crime and I should fully understand.

  ‘Oh, right. Wow. Terrible.’ I’m not sure how we’ve gone from Derek at the Ritz to this. Should I have been more active in that conversation?

  ‘Exactly. I do like popping in on Moira and Alan. It’s lovely to see a happy couple at
their age. I think Derek and I would have been the same.’

  There we are, we’re back to Derek. I knew it was too big a leap before.

  ‘You and Derek wouldn’t have been bothered about letters to the council. You’d still have been travelling the world, living every day like it’s your biggest adventure, filling your house with all your amazing things. You’d have been a beautiful couple.’

  I can see Kath’s eyes are welling up, so I go over and give her a squeeze. She leaves, seeming a bit perkier but saying she can feel a headache coming on. I think she just wants to have a bit of alone time. I respect that and tell her I’m here if she needs me. Poor old Kath.

  I go to the front window to wave her off. Something wasn’t right this morning. I’m not sure if it’s her headaches or if she’s having a tough time missing Derek, but I definitely should have tried harder just then. I don’t like seeing her so upset, and my heart feels heavy that I didn’t help her the way she always helps me.

  As the door closes behind her and I watch her disappear down the road, my phone pings. Yes!! It’s Theo!

  TWENTY-ONE

  MAY

  HE’S GOING TO BE here any minute. My God, I’m excited. It’s not natural to be this excited at this age but honestly, this is more exciting than the time Dad gave me thirty quid to blow in Toys R Us (he won it on the dogs; Mum would’ve gone mad if she’d known he’d had a flutter, so we went into the toyshop, bought whatever we fancied and said I’d won it at the church raffle. To this day she doesn’t know the sordid measures taken to get that game of Hungry Hippos).

  The whole house is immaculate, I’ve dressed in what I consider to be yummy-mummy wear – a soft jersey maxi wrap skirt in mustard, a white long-sleeved tee, brown sandals and a denim jacket. I’m going to jazz it up a bit with a statement necklace, va-va-voom lipstick and sunglasses, but I don’t want him to know I’m putting any effort in right now. I’m going to play this day so cool, I’m practically frozen. Lyla decided to dress herself, and rather than start the day with a battle of wills that would inevitably have ended in tears (mine, not hers), I’m letting it go. Very zen. Hopefully Theo will think it eccentric rather than completely batshit crazy. Much to my secret horror, Lyla has opted for knee-high Christmas socks, a tutu with a customised pom-pom trim (courtesy of Kath’s pom-pom phase last summer), a top with a sparkly dinosaur roaring on it and more hair clips than you could shake a stick at. She feels great. What can I do?

  Lyla and I have had a little chat about it being a special day, meeting Theo, being on our best behaviour and being a good girl, but I’m not holding my breath. Hopefully I can style out any minor outbursts, and Theo will be entirely won over by our sweet family, fall in love with us both, propose, buy a house in Primrose Hill and we’ll live happily ever after. Not that I’m getting carried away. I’m keeping expectations realistic. Cool as that cucumber.

  A few more spritzes of perfume (is Lyla coughing at the fumes, or just because her throat tickles?), one more whizz round the house to check I haven’t left anything hideous out and oh my God I can hear his car pulling onto the drive. It’s a big day. Deep breaths, deep breaths. I’m so thrilled he agreed to come up, I could burst.

  Maybe slightly too keenly I’ve opened the front door before he’s even out of the car, and I watch him come over to greet me. He looks completely divine, and says hello. As usual, he is ready to sit on the front row of London Fashion Week, wearing perfectly cut tan chinos, a very pale pink casual shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows (it takes a man with a strong game to pull off a pink shirt well, and, of course, he can) and brown suede lace-ups. His face is stubbly in a ‘relaxed for the weekend’ way, and his hair looks like it needs my fingers running through it imminently. If I smile any more widely I might lose my mouth off the sides of my face.

  ‘Darling, you look gorgeous!’ Theo steps into our little hall, pausing on the squeaky floorboards, kissing me on the cheek and validating everything I wanted validating.

  He steps over to Lyla, who’s hopping from foot to foot and has suddenly gone shy, and says, ‘Robin, is this beautiful lady your sister?’

  ‘Oh no!’ I say, looking shocked and playing along. ‘This is Lyla!’

  ‘Surely not! I thought Lyla was a little girl, but this young lady is so grown up and beautiful she can’t possibly be only six years old!’ Theo says with a faux surprised look on his face that is totally fooling her.

  Lyla giggles, and I know he’s won her over. ‘No, silly! I’m Lyla and that’s Mummy, and she hasn’t got a sister!’

  ‘Good grief, you’re right!’ he mock-exclaims, bending down and offering his hand for her to shake. ‘Hello, Lyla, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Theo and I think your mummy is very beautiful.’

  Lyla takes his hand and they shake cordially as though this is a very important business exchange. Lyla is grinning from ear to ear at this extravagant grown-up treatment.

  Excuse me while I just die at how perfect his introduction is.

  ‘She is! Mummy is perfect! And she’s so happy today because she hasn’t shouted about her “fucking keys”, or run around in her knickers saying “where are my bloody jeans! Where are my jeans!”’ Lyla responds seriously.

  I want to die again, but now because I’m so mortified.

  ‘Lyla! Don’t say those words! Those are grown-up words! Theo doesn’t want to hear language like that from you.’

  Thankfully, Theo just looks amused. ‘I don’t know, I’d quite like to help you in a game of “where are my bloody jeans” one day,’ he says quietly to me.

  ‘Sorry Mummy,’ Lyla says sweetly, but with a wry smile on her face, knowing she got off lightly for saying ‘bad’ words.

  ‘Ahh, she’s such a polite little girl,’ he says, defusing any potential upset and putting his hands on his hips. ‘Now, Lyla, I heard you’re taking Mummy and me out today, but I wondered if you wouldn’t mind me driving us in my car?’

  Lyla giggles, loving all the attention, and nods her approval. She’s so easily charmed. I can’t think where she gets that from.

  In the car I feel dreamy. It’s like the car is a bubble (a BMW-flavoured bubble) and I’m enveloped safely in it. Beautiful, madly dressed child sat on her booster seat in the back, gorgeous man deftly weaving through the country roads, one hand on the wheel and one hand on my knee, and me feeling so blissful. This is what it was meant to be. Man, woman and child having a perfect day out. I notice in the wing mirror that I’m wearing the diamond stud earrings Lacey’s lent me and feel pleased with myself. Theo’s girlfriend would wear diamond studs. Glamorous yet understated. I’m so contented in this car. I almost don’t want us to arrive.

  We do arrive, though, and as I open the back passenger seat door I notice that Lyla has scuffed her shoes all the way up the back of Theo’s cream leather front seat. Aghast, I just shut the door gently behind her and remind myself to clean that up later somehow when he’s not looking. Perhaps tonight, while he sleeps. Shit.

  ‘Just need to grab my sweater,’ Theo says as he opens the other passenger seat door to pick up his navy cashmere jumper. Of course it’s cashmere, and of course he’s going to see the shoe scuffs.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  ‘Oh,’ he says, an octave higher than usual.

  ‘Mmmm?’ Going to just pretend I don’t know what he means. That’ll make this go away.

  ‘I think perhaps Lyla has a bit of mud on her shoes.’ He nods towards the scuffed-seat situation.

  ‘I’m so sorry! I didn’t realise, and I can absolutely get that off. It happens all the time in my car. I’m ever so sorry … You’re not angry, are you?’

  ‘Nooo. Absolutely not. Let’s just crack on, shall we?’ The vein on the side of his head twitches as he clenches his jaw and I can tell that, actually, he is quite angry, but I fall for him all the more for pretending it’s no big deal.

  ‘Auntie Kath says life is for living, Theo. We don’t need to worry about a bit of mud,’ Lyla pipes up. I love
her free spirit; I would love it even more if she didn’t share it at this precise second. That’ll no doubt push Theo over the edge.

  He’s walking round the car to us, and I mentally brace myself for the fallout, but to my surprise, he scoops her up, swings her onto his shoulders and says, ‘You are exactly right, Miss Lyla Blue. Let’s enjoy the day and worry about that later.’

  Wow, I’m impressed. He was very calm about that. Also, I’m amazed he’s remembered her middle name. I think I only mentioned it once. I love him, I love him, I love him.

  We meander through to the great courtyard of the magnificent stately home, Thropnon House (think huge pillars encasing the front steps, ivy crawling all the way up the stone walls and multiple chimneys attached to multiple fireplaces that the wealthy inhabitants enjoy sherry by at Christmas). We’re visiting for their Spring Family Day, and I can’t help but feel smug. At last, I, Robin Wilde, am sauntering around gorgeous grounds with my beautiful little girl, the light of my life, and a handsome man in tan chinos. I never thought I’d be this woman. I’m currently being the sort of woman I tend to look at and feel jealous of. I look like the kind of woman who has it together and has a happy and balanced life. We could be in a magazine, for fuck’s sake.

  ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ Theo muses. ‘Reminds me of being a boy and going shooting with my father.’ I’m secretly impressed that Theo spent his youth doing country pursuits on grand estates.