Harry passes the handkerchief to me, I pass it to Neve, Denise stops knitting to pass it to the person sitting next to her, who finally gives it to the woman. She looks up to see where it came from. When I smile at her, she looks down at the floor again.
*
After the meeting Harry, Neve and I help clear up the tea and biscuits.
‘You seem quiet today,’ Harry says to me, tottering towards the sink with a couple of dirty mugs. ‘Is this about your Aunt Viv, I mean, your mother?’
I nod. ‘I have a few things on my mind.’
‘It’s Ben, isn’t it?’ guesses Neve, leading me away from the sink before asking what has happened between us. She wants detail. ‘Your life is like a soap opera. You’re giving me a run for my money now,’ she says.
Neve listens as I tell her everything. ‘His date won’t come to anything,’ she predicts, as if the date is nothing more than a pesky insect getting in the way. ‘Listen, he’s hurt. I can understand him thinking he’s second best. It does look as if you went for one apple and discovered it was rotten, so picked another.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Yeah, but that’s what he thinks. Try and talk to him again,’ Neve advises. ‘Explain. Make him listen.’
‘No, no!’ Harry pipes up, clearly having listened to every word too. ‘Not the way to go!’ He approaches us, waving his tea towel.
We stare at him.
‘Actions speak louder than words, my dear. When I had to win Betsy back it was no good saying sorry a million times, I had to show her I meant business.’
‘So what did you do?’ Neve asks impatiently.
‘I’m coming to that,’ Harry snaps. ‘What I did was think to myself, “what does Betsy love doing more than anything else in the world?” The answer?’ He leans towards us. ‘Dancing.’
‘Dancing,’ Neve and I repeat.
‘When we first met all she talked about were her dancing pins. She has beautiful legs too,’ he says, veering off the point. ‘Anyway, I’ve got two left feet me, but in secret I took myself off to lessons, while she thought I was down the boozer.’ He raises an imaginary bottle to his mouth, pretends to drink, ‘But I was dancing the night away in the local community centre, learning the waltz …’ Harry grabs me by the hands and we dance around the table and chairs, ‘and the foxtrot! So what you need to do, young Polly, is do something special just for him.’
I stop. ‘Like what?’
‘Use your imagination. Do something he knows will have required strength or effort. No good just baking him a cake, you do that all the time.’
I’m beginning to think Harry might be right. ‘So Betsy loved your dancing?’
‘Oh yes. For her birthday I asked her to put her best dress on, she thought we were going to some fancy fish restaurant.’ He cackles as he claps his hands. ‘I took her to the London Ballroom Dance Club! We danced all night. It paid off all right, in more ways than one.’ He winks at us.
‘Thanks, Harry, but we don’t need all the details,’ says Neve, while I’m still lost in thought, trying to work out what I can do for Ben. It’s got to be something to make him realise I really do love him.
50
Two weeks later
Aunt Viv and I meet in Chamomile, Christmas music playing in the background. Christmas has been the last thing on both our minds.
Aunt Viv looks tired, dark rings under her eyes and her hair pinned away from a pale face. ‘I wanted to tell you, Polly, of course I did, but I’d made a promise.’
I stir my coffee. ‘Were you never going to tell me?’
‘I know it’s hard to understand, but I made peace with my decision years ago. Whatever you think of my sister, she gave you a home, she provided for you in a way I never would have been able to. I couldn’t come back and destroy that. What a way to repay her! We made a deal and I had to honour it. It broke my heart, it wasn’t easy, but …’
I can’t listen … ‘How about being honest? You lied to me!’
‘If I’d told you, it could have done unthinkable damage. I made a promise to be as good an aunt as possible, treat you like my own, love you like my own. I was determined to be a part of your life; no one was going to stop me from doing that. I never stopped thinking about my little girl,’ she says tearfully. ‘I came back from America to be close to you. I watched with terror when you were with Matthew. I admire the way you’ve brought up Louis and had the courage to turn your life around. I have loved every single minute of being close to you, especially these past few years. And Louis … well, of course I loved babysitting him. He’s my grandson.’
‘I wish you’d told me,’ I say again, fighting not to cry, and then thinking what the hell, just cry. ‘I can’t call you Mum.’
‘I don’t expect you to.’
I look up at her. ‘Maybe one day.’
She takes my hand. ‘That’s good enough for me.’
We sit quietly for a while, until Aunt Viv says, ‘There are many things I’m not proud of Polly, but I’m so proud of you.’
I look up, tears in my eyes. ‘You won’t be very proud of me when you hear me sing.’
‘Sorry?’
I end up telling her about my plan, based on Harry’s advice. ‘It’s the Christmas school fundraiser tonight, ‘Stars in Their Eyes’. I’m singing a song for Ben.’
‘But you can’t sing.’
‘I get that from you.’
We laugh for the first time and it feels good. ‘I always used to wonder how Hugo could have such an angelic voice.’ I look at Aunt Viv, not wishing to fight or argue with her anymore. ‘Will you come? I need all the support I can get.’ Janey is coming with Paul; Hugo and his Spanish girlfriend, Maria, along with Jim and his wife, will be on our table. Thankfully I know Ben is coming because Gabriella told me he’s helping behind the bar.
Aunt Viv appears surprised and touched. ‘Of course I’ll come. I’ll bring earplugs.’
51
Jim and I are at Louis’s school, rehearsing my song. Jim turns the music off.
‘I told you I couldn’t sing,’ I say, breaking into a helpless smile.
Jim coughs. ‘You’re a little out of tune.’
I stare at him, knowing he’s using artistic licence.
‘OK, let’s say there’s plenty of room for improvement. One more time,’ he insists as I’m about to jump off the stage.
Reluctantly I get back into my starting position, clutching the microphone.
‘This time don’t stand so stiffly, Polly. Walk around more, strut your stuff.’ Jim glides across the floor, clicking his fingers, begins to sing my song effortlessly. ‘It’ll be easier when you’re in your red-hot dress, you’ll feel …’
‘Terrified.’
‘I was going to say a million dollars. Think sexy. Think sultry.’ Jim pouts, making me forget my nerves for a second. ‘Remember you’re singing this for Ben. You want to show him how much he means to you, right?’
‘Right.’
‘So make every single word count. Think about the lyrics and what they mean to you. Old Frankie boy had a way of singling out a beautiful woman in the audience and making her feel like he was singing the song only for her. That’s what you’ve got to do.’ Jim presses play. ‘Just think of Ben and forget about the rest of us.’
*
The school assembly room is adorned with Christmas decorations and filled with small round tables covered with red-checked cloths and candles. People are heading to the kitchen bar to buy crisps and cheap warm wine.
‘What number are you on the list?’ Aunt Viv asks, detecting my nerves. ‘Good to go fairly early on and get it over with.’
‘I’m last.’
‘Oh,’ everyone says.
‘Exactly.’ I look over to the next table. Gabriella is with her husband and friends, everyone merrily drinking wine and filling in their quiz sheet. She’s performing ‘It’s Raining Men’, by the Weather Girls with Violet, head of the PTA. I watch her pick up the bottle and pour
another glass.
It’s hard enough singing in front of a crowd, let alone singing stone-cold sober.
*
*
‘Welcome to the second ‘Stars in Their Eyes’, back by popular demand,’ says our host, dressed in black tie, holding a clipboard. ‘My name is Mike, and I know you’ll be truly bowled over by some of tonight’s performers, some of the finest acts you’ll ever see …’
Everyone laughs.
‘… and some of the most amazing outfits you’ll ever set eyes on too. So without further ado, let’s meet our first act.’
Janey squeezes my hand. ‘He’s not here yet,’ I whisper, thinking there’s no way I’m doing this if he doesn’t show up.
‘He’ll come,’ Janey assures me.
‘Have faith,’ says Aunt Viv, crossing her fingers.
Hugo nods. I watch him and Maria together, so comfortable, his arm around her shoulder. I ache to see Ben. Where is he?
*
Jim is on next. ‘So, Jim, can you give us a clue who you are?’
‘Sure. This song was used in a Quentin Tarantino film, Reservoir Dogs.’
‘And your UK sell-out tour going well?’
Everyone laughs.
‘Very.’
‘Well, Jim, tell us who you are. We’re on the edge of our seats here.’
‘Well, tonight, Mike, I’m going to be Stealers Wheel singing ‘Stuck in The Middle with You’.’
‘Of course you are! Go and get changed.’
Jim’s wife covers her eyes when five minutes later he returns on stage dressed in brown trousers, stripy shirt, droopy moustache, wig and shades, playing a guitar.
I forget about my ordeal as Hugo and I stand up and wolf-whistle. Jim can sing. He kept that a secret.
I head to the bar. Still no sign of him. ‘Have you seen Ben?’ I ask one of the school mums.
She nods. ‘Apparently Emily’s been unwell or something.’
My heart sinks.
‘He left a message. He might come later, if he thinks he can leave her with the babysitter.’
*
I report the gloomy news.
‘Oh, bloody children,’ Janey exclaims.
‘I can’t believe this,’ I mutter.
Hugo leaves the table, asking where the loos are.
*
Gabriella and Violet are on next, both of them modelling low-cut silk dresses that show off their ample cleavages. Gabriella belts out ‘It’s Raining Men’ like a diva. Panic seizes my stomach. I’m rubbish and everyone else is good. They have talent. Gabriella has a beautiful voice. This isn’t just some school fundraiser; I’m watching mums and dads who have dreamed of the stage since childhood and this is as close as they are going to get to fame. As for me … all I’m going to do is make a fool of myself. Aunt Viv stops me from fidgeting and looking towards the bar. ‘He’ll be here,’ she says, touching my arm. ‘But even if he doesn’t come tonight, there will be another way to show him.’
After a show-stopping version of Shirley Bassey’s ‘Hey Big Spender’, our headmistress comes on singing a Susan Boyle number. ‘Damn it,’ I mutter to Janey. ‘She’s amazing too.’
‘Apparently she’s always wanted to be an opera singer,’ mentions Jim.
I’ve given up hope of Ben arriving.
Janey grips my hand. ‘It doesn’t matter about Ben. Just go up there and show us what you’re made of.’
‘Everyone on this table will be clapping,’ reassures Maria.
‘Exactly!’ continues Janey. ‘Who cares if you can sing or not? You give it attitude! Own that stage.’
I nod, yet feel positively sick with nerves and disappointment as the host announces, ‘Well, we’ve saved the best till last, folks! Come on up, Polly Stephens.’
Hugo encourages me to go, but I can’t feel my legs. I’m going to faint.
‘Polly,’ our host greets me when finally I join him on the stage. ‘I’ve been really looking forward to your act. Give us a clue who you’re going to be.’
‘Er, she was an American singer and actress, big in the 1920s and 30s.’ I look towards the back of the hall, still waiting for Ben miraculously to show up.
‘And tell us about the song you’ve picked,’ continues the host.
I can see Aunt Viv and Janey willing me to continue.
Come on, Polly, you can do this. ‘Harry Connick Jr. sang it in my favourite film, When Harry Met …’ I stop dead.
I want to jump off this stage and into his arms.
‘Go on,’ Ben mouths at me, leaning against the wall at the back of the hall.
‘When Harry Met Sally.’
‘Well it’s great you’re singing this for all the children at Eastwood’s.’
‘I’m not doing it for the school,’ I say without thinking. ‘Sorry, but if it were for the school, I’d have rather donated a tenner.’
A few more laughs.
‘I’m singing it for someone,’ I say, looking directly at him now. ‘Someone who’s here tonight.’
‘Well, on that saucy note, I think it’s time to tell us who you’re going to be.’
‘Tonight, everyone, I’m … I’m …’ I catch Ben’s eye. ‘Ruth Etting.’
‘She’s Ruth Etting!’ the host repeats with way too much enthusiasm.
*
I return to the stage in a full-length red-sequin dress with matching lipstick, dangerously high-heeled shoes, my dark hair falling down my shoulders. The audience cheer and wolf-whistle. ‘I can do this,’ I mutter to myself, my heart thumping.
The orchestral music starts to play the introduction to ‘It Had to Be You’, everyone in the audience clapping already. I take a deep breath. He’s here. He is here, Polly. This is my chance. Don’t be nervous.
‘It had to be you,’ I sing, my voice surprisingly bold.
As the song picks up momentum, I glide across the floor and gesture to Ben, just before my heel gets caught in the hem of my dress. I disentangle myself and on I go, reminding myself I am a glamour puss. Some of the audience turn to see who I’m looking at. ‘Go for it, Polly!’ I hear Jim shout, as my entire table gets up to clap and encourage me on.
I sing every single word for him, from the bottom of my heart. When the song comes to the end, I must be dreaming. I’m getting a standing ovation.
*
Backstage, I rush to get dressed, laughing with tears of relief that it’s over and that he came. At least I didn’t go through that ordeal in vain. I can’t have been that bad? A standing ovation! Maybe I can sing? I hop around on one foot trying to find my other shoe. Come on, where are you? I look under the rail of clothes. I’ve got to see him, before he goes …
‘Here it is,’ a voice says.
I turn, my heart skipping a beat when I see Ben standing in front of me, holding my shoe.
‘How’s Emily?’ is the only thing I can think of saying to him, not taking the shoe.
‘She picked up some bug.’ He doesn’t take his eyes off mine.
‘I’m sorry. Poor Emily. But you came, saw me make an idiot of myself.’
‘When Hugo called to tell me his sister was singing a special song for me in a stunning red dress … well that kind of offer doesn’t come along more than once in a lifetime. Well, I hope not anyway, for the sake of my ears.’
I take the shoe and slip it on, building myself up to say, ‘How was your date?’
‘Good.’
I look away.
Gently he turns me back towards him. ‘It’s my turn for a “but” now.’
‘But?’
‘But she wasn’t you.’
I take his hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Ben … and if I could rewind time …’
‘What time would you go back to?’
‘The time when you told me you loved me.’
‘What would you do differently?’
‘Everything. You were right. I was scared. Terrified that if things didn’t work … but I shouldn’t have trusted Matthew so easily, or let him get
in the way of us.’
‘You’re forgiving.’ He shrugs. ‘We’ve had second chances. Everyone deserves that, and I understand that he’s Louis’s father. Hugo told me about what happened that night Matthew came over,’ he says, moving closer towards me, our fingers now interlocking. ‘That he uncovered a lot of untruths about him. He’s quite something, your brother.’
I nod, tearful. ‘So are you. It was always you, Ben. I was just so stupid. You were never second best.’
He wipes a tear away from my eye with his thumb and our faces are only inches apart before he puts his arms around me. I do the same, clinging on, knowing I will never let him go again.
‘I was wondering,’ he says, when finally we pull apart.
‘You were wondering …’
He pulls me towards him again; our foreheads touch, his mouth so close to mine. ‘What do you fancy doing on our first date?’
‘This,’ I say, as we kiss.
52
Six months later
It’s a glorious summer’s day and Ben is driving Emily, Louis, Nellie and me to watch him play cricket at Stoneleigh Abbey in Warwickshire. A few months ago Ben contacted his old village cricket club, based in Crawley, close to where Grace had lived. He was missing the matches, the league tables, seeing his team players, a mixed bunch from a professor of neuroscience to the maintenance man. ‘That’s what makes it fun,’ he’d told me. ‘Everyone is different.’
Ben tells me Stoneleigh Abbey is stunning, one of the best venues in the country, and that the Abbey and grounds are often hired for weddings.
‘Are you going to get married, Daddy?’ asks Emily, ears pricking up at the idea of dressing up. ‘Can I be your bridesmaid?’
‘Sweetheart, we’re not getting married,’ I say.
‘Not yet.’ Ben glances my way, touching my knee.
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