‘I promise.’
44
‘I’m not taking any risks,’ I whisper down the phone to Hugo as I tell him Louis and I are on our way to meet Matthew at the Odeon in Camden town. It’s too cold and wintery to be outside today, so Louis asked if we could watch a movie instead.
‘No, it’s too soon,’ I say when Hugo asks if he can meet him too. ‘I know what I’m doing. Trust me.’
After our call, I shove the mobile back into my bag, understanding Hugo’s concern, but at the same time, over the past two months Matthew hasn’t once let us down. He has turned up on time to meet Louis and play stomp rocket in the park, or give him lessons on his stunt scooter. He always looks well-dressed and clean-shaven, his blue eyes bright with enthusiasm when he sees his son. I’m not immune to the glances he receives from women, especially when he’s with Louis. One afternoon he brought a Union Jack kite to Hampstead Heath and taught Louis to fly it, both of them wrapped up in coats and woolly scarves, looking every inch father and son, as I watched from the sidelines.
Louis is ecstatic about being reunited with his father. At night, when we go through our list of all the things we are grateful for Matthew is always mentioned first now. I have to remind him about Emily, Ben, Aunt Viv and Uncle Hugo, but it’s in vain. When he plays games with his friends I hear him say, ‘My daddy will shoot you down!’ Or ‘My daddy will save you!’ when it used to be, ‘Big Ben will rescue us!’
On Monday mornings he tells everyone at the school gates about his dad. ‘He bought me a kite. It went whoosh in the sky,’ he said to Emily last week, Ben standing closely behind.
I felt awkward when Jim asked Ben if he wanted to join us for a coffee. Ben wouldn’t look at me, making his excuses as he headed off for a run without as much as a glance over his shoulder.
I’ve talked to Jim about Ben. ‘Give him time,’ he’d said. ‘When he understands this isn’t about getting back with Matthew, he’ll come round.’
Janey has said the same. ‘Take it very slowly with Matt,’ she warned me.
I am taking it slowly. However, despite myself I am warming to Matt. I’m seeing a new side to him, a paternal side that was lacking before. He is contributing financially too, paying a regular monthly sum into my account to cover school clothes, food and a percentage of my rent. He works for an estate agent’s in Fulham. It’s not the most exciting job, he concedes, but it’s regular pay and no stress. I like this more modest Matthew. It suits him. ‘I can’t be a director, can’t run my own ship anymore, but it doesn’t mean I can’t work my way up the ladder,’ he said. ‘Main thing is, Polly, I sleep at night.’
When Hugo and Aunt Viv ask questions I sense they are longing to hear he’s back to his old tricks and ways. They want to pat me on the back and say I was brave for trying, but leopards never change their spots.
As Louis and I push through the weekend crowds, I see Matthew waiting outside the cinema. He waves, before Louis rushes towards him, throwing his arms around Matthew’s legs. ‘Hi, Matthew!’
Matt kneels down, ruffles Louis’s hair. ‘Call me Dad,’ he says.
*
Louis sits between us, plunging his hands into a tub of popcorn. As the room darkens I find myself glancing at Matthew. When he catches my eye I turn away. As the film plays I close my eyes. During the first few months of our relationship my head felt giddy with longing for Matthew. At school I’d have butterflies in my stomach, anticipating being with him in the evening. The sex was amazing. Sometimes rough, sometimes surprisingly tender. When he’d won the bid for the Wandsworth house he’d called saying we were going out to celebrate that night. He took me to a fancy lobster restaurant and over drinks produced a box, lined with tissue, containing a black lace bra with matching knickers.
I remember that night, returning from the restaurant and dressing up for Matt while he watched from the bed as I faced him in my silk dressing gown, before slowly untying the belt and letting it fall to the floor. I can still feel that magnetic attraction, the way his eyes had found mine in the bar the first time we met.
*
After the film, Matthew suggests a mug of hot chocolate in a nearby café. While Louis is choosing a cake, pointing to every single thing with whipped cream behind the counter, I decide to ask Matthew if he’s in a relationship.
‘I haven’t been with anyone since, well, since us.’ He grins, that cockiness beginning to emerge. ‘I know that’s hard to believe. I haven’t been celibate all that time, but I needed to get my head together, go to therapy.’
‘Who did you see?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You said you went on that anger-management course? Saw a counsellor? You still see someone, don’t you?’
He looks at me quizzically. ‘Hugo been checking up on me?’
‘No.’ I remain composed. ‘I’m interested, that’s all.’
‘Sam Colefox,’ he says, making me feel foolish for asking. ‘He encouraged me to do the course and to remain single until … ’ He plays with the drinks menu, taps it against the table. ‘After hurting you, I didn’t trust myself. You know it was the last thing I ever wanted, to hurt you.’ He looks over to Louis, still choosing something to eat. ‘You were the only one who really understood me, Polly.’ His hand inches towards mine. ‘I want to get to know you again. It’s been great seeing Louis, but I can’t deny that seeing you again has brought back memories. Not all of it was bad, was it? We’ve both changed, got our acts together.’ His hand is now on top of mine, his touch warm. ‘Imagine …’
‘Don’t.’ I pull my hand from underneath his. ‘It’s too soon.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Does that mean that in time … ?’
‘I don’t know what it means,’ I say, as thankfully Louis interrupts, returning to the table to say he wants a chocolate eclair.
45
A week later
‘How are you feeling today?’ Stephanie asks me.
‘Confused. Uncertain about everything, really.’ I agreed to see Matthew tonight, at my flat. ‘All I want to do is talk,’ he’d said when I looked hesitant, Hugo and Aunt Viv’s warning voices in my ear. ‘Christmas is coming up,’ he went on, ‘and I was hoping we could see one another. I’d like to be with Louis, enjoy my first Christmas with him.’
‘What’s “everything”?’ Stephanie likes to pick on words; make me explain what I mean by them.
‘Matthew, mainly.’ I dig into my handbag to find the piece of paper with the name of Matthew’s counsellor. ‘Do you know Sam Colefox?’
‘Polly. What’s this about?’
Briefly I explain that Hugo wants to make sure Matthew really did attend counselling and anger-management courses.
‘Do you understand why Hugo might be concerned?’
‘Basically, he doesn’t trust a word Matt says. I’m grateful to him, he’s being protective. Anyway, I’ve googled this counsellor, but quite a few names crop up and I just wanted to make sure …’
‘I know him,’ she says. ‘He practises in Fulham. He specialises in abuse, addiction, compulsive and obsessive behaviour and anger management.’
Relieved, I nod. ‘Yes, but anyone can pluck a name out of a hat, Polly,’ Hugo had said. ‘I could tell you I’d seen this Sam Colefox person. Doesn’t mean I have.’
‘Polly, you seem anxious.’
‘I am. I don’t know what to do.’ I confide about our recent cinema trip and coffee. Matthew taking my hand, telling me he wanted to make a go of it again.
‘What’s your heart telling you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘How about this? What’s stopping you?’
‘Where do I start? Fear. Reactions from others, Louis being hurt if this doesn’t work, if he walks out on us or …’ I take a deep breath. ‘He hurts me again. Louis was a baby when that happened. He’s growing up so fast. The damage would be terrible and … no, that’s it.’
‘That’s all?’
I nod, unconvincingly. ‘Ben,’ I admit a
t last. ‘Ben stops me.’
‘In an ideal world, what would you like to happen?’
I’m torn. ‘A part of me misses Ben and what we could be, but then again I’ve felt close to Matthew recently, slowly I’ve begun to enjoy seeing him, and he makes Louis so happy. What would you do?’ I throw the question at her, knowing she can’t or won’t answer it. ‘Sorry, I know you can’t tell me what to do.’
Stephanie takes off her glasses and leans towards me. ‘Polly, I see a lot of clients who relapse when they go back to a bad relationship – sometimes the only reason they go back is because it’s easier to return to someone familiar, even if that person was abusive or destructive, and do you want to know why?’ She closes her notebook. ‘Because they don’t believe they are worthy of anything better,’ she says with passion. ‘Someone who loves them is too overwhelming.’ She looks at me directly. ‘Polly, you do the same thing; you get the same result. Do something differently and you’ve got a chance at something new and better. The best thing for you, what could help you more than anything else is being with the right person. Over the last few years you have worked out that there were consequences to your mistakes and that you had to make sure you walked down a different path …’ Stephanie stops. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she gathers her composure. ‘I can’t tell you what to do.’
But we both know she just has.
*
As I approach the school gates I see Ben, hands deep in his coat pockets. Tentatively, I walk over to him and say hello, asking how he is.
‘Good.’
‘How’s the work going?’
‘Busy.’
‘How’s Emily? Would she like to come over and play one afternoon?’
‘Maybe.’
Is this what our friendship has been reduced to? ‘Ben, please,’ I say, trying to reach out to him. ‘Can we talk?’
He looks withdrawn, his eyes tired. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he says finally.
‘You too.’
‘Polly, I’m sorry …’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ I remember the hurt and anger in his eyes when I’d said we couldn’t be more than friends. ‘This is the perfect excuse to put the brakes on us.’
‘This stinks,’ he declares at last, making both of us smile.
‘It really does.’
‘I’m bored of not seeing you.’
‘Me too. Insanely bored.’
‘Can I come over? Tonight? Emily keeps on asking why we don’t see you any more, and I, well, I miss you.’
‘I can’t, not tonight, but how about …’
‘Are you seeing him?’
A crowd of children begin to emerge from the school building. ‘He’s coming over for supper but …’
‘Are you back together?’
‘No. He wants to talk about Louis, that’s all.’
My mobile rings. Matthew’s name appears on the screen. I catch Ben’s eye. He’s seen the name too.
‘Take it,’ he says as Emily rushes towards him, her satchel swinging off her shoulder, Louis following closely behind.
Emily says hello to me, my mobile still ringing. I reject the call, saying it can wait. ‘Daddy is coming over tonight,’ Louis mentions to Ben and Emily. ‘I’m going to show him my pilot costume. I want him to sleep over.’
Ben looks at me, as if finally he understands there’s no hope.
‘See you around,’ he says, managing a smile before taking Emily firmly by the hand.
46
After Louis has had his tea, he and Matthew charge around the house playing goodies and baddies. ‘I’m coming to get you!’ Louis shouts, before Matthew collapses on the sitting room floor, Louis handcuffing him and saying, ‘You’ve been very naughty. I’m taking you off to prison now.’ Louis jumps up. ‘Again!’ he says, his energy never failing to amaze me. ‘This time I’m the baddie. Count to ten!’
‘No, Louis, it’s bedtime,’ I say. ‘Get into your pyjamas and then I’ll come in and read to you.’ I notice how formal my voice sounds.
‘I’ll read to him. Would you like that, buddy?’ Matt asks, taking off the toy handcuffs.
Louis nods. ‘I’ll show you my bedroom again,’ he says, taking Matt by the hand. ‘Do you want to see my new rocket pyjamas, Daddy?’
‘Don’t forget to clean your teeth,’ I call.
Fifteen minutes later, as I stand in the doorway of Louis’s bedroom, listening to Matthew reading Plop, the Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark, I can’t fight the feeling that it’s all too good to be true. It still feels strange hearing Louis call him ‘Daddy’. It took Emily months to call Uncle Ben Daddy. Ben never expected nor asked her to. He earned it. I picture them at hospital, the way Emily had opened her arms, invited him in at long last.
After the story is over, I kiss Louis goodnight. ‘Mum, is Daddy sleeping here?’
Matt glances at me, raises an eyebrow.
‘No, darling.’
‘Not tonight, but maybe sometime soon.’ Matt ruffles his hair. ‘Would you like that, buddy?’
Louis nods before I grab Matthew by the arm and pull him out of the room. ‘Don’t encourage him,’ I say when we’re in the kitchen. ‘You’ll give him the wrong idea.’
‘Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind.’
Already I feel backed into a corner, his stare predatory. ‘It hasn’t,’ I say, moving away from him. ‘You’re here for Louis.’
Matt smiles in the old familiar way. ‘Sure. Right. Louis.’ He looks around the room. ‘Nice place, this.’
I busy myself, opening the fridge, getting things out, checking on the chicken, chopping the vegetables, telling Matt to sit down. Instead he wanders around, picking things up, asking where they came from. ‘What’s this?’ He’s looking at the precious ceramic box Aunt Viv gave me with the AA serenity prayer engraved inside. He reads it out, a faint mocking tone in his voice, or am I imagining it?
He reads Louis’s cards scattered around the flat, picks up my photographs, handles books and the candlesticks Hugo gave me for my birthday. ‘Who’s Louis with?’ He’s now holding a framed photograph of Ben, Emily, Louis and Nellie. I’d taken the shot on one of our dog walks.
‘Emily. She’s in his class.’
‘Yeah, but who’s he?’
I carry on chopping. ‘Ben.’
I glance at the sofa, remembering all those times Ben and I have watched films together here, eaten takeaway, argued, laughed, played games with the children. I see Emily and Louis colouring in at the coffee table. I see Ben sprawled out on the floor helping me put together a bookshelf for Louis’s room, both of us laughing at how impractical I am. We felt like a family, but I took it for granted at the time. Being with Ben, that’s how it should feel.
‘Ben? Louis mentions him too. Is he a boyfriend or something?’
‘No.’ I carry on chopping. Chop, chop …
‘Really?’
CHOP. I see blood. I drop the knife and run my cut finger under the tap. This isn’t going to work. I’ve let him back into my life too soon. ‘He’s a friend.’ I resent having to justify him.
‘You all right?’ He comes over, takes a look at my hand. ‘Something I said, Polly?’
‘I’m fine.’ Flustered I find a plaster in one of the kitchen drawers, aware of him watching my every move.
He leaves the room, muttering he’ll be back in a sec. When he’s gone I lean against the sink, take a deep breath. I pour myself a glass of water. Drink it in one go. What was I thinking? When I see Louis and Matt playing in the park I don’t feel this way. I feel safer because I’m watching from a distance, on neutral ground. Being alone with him brings back bad memories. I don’t want him here, putting fingerprints all over the past few years that have brought me here, to a good place. The oven timer rings, making me jump.
‘Something smells good,’ he says when he returns.
‘It’s only roast chicken.’ I slide the roasting tin back into the oven. When I turn to him he’s holdin
g a bottle of wine. ‘Thought we could celebrate.’
I blink. ‘Sorry?’
‘Seeing one another again.’ He opens the kitchen drawer, takes out the corkscrew.
‘I can’t drink that, but you can.’ I watch him opening my cupboard to find the glasses; he produces two. ‘Surely you can have one?’ He pours us both a glass.
‘I don’t drink. You know that.’
‘Oh come on, Polly. One can’t do any harm.’ He holds the glass out to me.
Fury burning inside now, I chuck the wine down the sink. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’
‘Sorry. I thought …’
‘No you didn’t. That’s the problem.’
My mobile rings. Hugo’s name lights up the screen. I reject the call. He’ll be worried that Matthew is here when I promised we’d only meet in the park or in cafés. The only people who know about tonight are Stephanie and Aunt Viv. I’ll talk to Hugo tomorrow. It rings again. It’s Mum. Matt eyes my mobile.
I switch the damn thing off, saying it’s time to eat.
*
Over supper I try to keep the conversation all about Louis and possible Christmas plans.
‘He’s a great kid,’ Matt says. ‘You’ve done him proud. It can’t have been easy being a single mum, having no man around to help.’
‘I’ve had support. Anyway, I was thinking you could see him for an early Christmas day here, before I take him to my parents.’
Matt picks up his glass of wine. I notice he’s wearing a white shirt, similar to the one he wore the very first night we met. I remember us dancing; the look in his eyes when he said he wanted to take me home, his hands sliding down my back. I shift in my seat.
As if he can read my mind, ‘Do you remember the night we met, Polly? You were with your friend …’
‘Janey.’
‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you.’
It was all sex, booze and hedonism.
Life is different now.
‘There was something wild about you, dangerous … ’
‘Would you like some more peas?’
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