by CJ Morrow
‘White,’ he says, ‘I hope that’s okay.’
‘Any colour is good for me.’ I laugh and sound stupid and awkward. I do hope tonight isn’t going to be awkward. We are, after all, just friends sharing a meal together.
Betty bounds past me in the hall and gallops off to meet her friend.
‘I hope you like chicken and I hope you’re hungry,’ I say as I put his wine in the fridge and pull out a bottle of my own. ‘Wine now?’
‘Yes, yes and yes.’
I pour us both a generous glass and as I hand his to him, I notice he’s changed his clothes, darker jeans now and a shirt. He looks good, just as good as he did in the park. Too good. It makes me feel jittery and silly.
I really need to calm down. What the hell is the matter with me?
‘How was Lidl?’ Is he smirking? Yes, he definitely is.
‘Not without its minor dramas,’ I say before telling him about Grimmy and her queue jumping and the cakes we’ve stuffed ourselves with.
‘Any left?’ He glances around the kitchen.
‘No, sorry. But I have made a cheesecake.’
‘Sounds good.’
He sits at the table while I bring the food over. We serve ourselves since this will allow him to eat as much as he likes without me constantly asking if he’d like more.
‘Help yourself,’ I say as I put the plates down.
We eat and drink in a kind of strained silence, or maybe it’s just me. He eats quickly but maybe that’s because he just wants to get it over with and leave. Shadow and Betty play in the garden; after this afternoon’s downpour it turned back into a warm, bright day and now a lovely evening.
‘That was great,’ he says, after his second helping. ‘So nice to eat in civilised surroundings.’
‘What do you normally do?’
‘Lately I’ve been eating lunch at work. So much better. We’re in a shared building so we have a shared restaurant. It’s good too. Prior to that, hit and run in the shared kitchen in the nut house.’ He grimaces. ‘Ready meals, mostly. There are three fridge freezers, and three microwaves but only one oven and hob, so I think the owner knew how it would be.’
‘How many rooms are there?’
‘Seven, I think. Might be six. Oh, and there’s a dishwasher, but no one wants to load or unload it. I do it whenever I cannot stand the mess. It’s ridiculous. Counting the days…’
‘Until you get your house back,’ I finish for him. ‘Cheesecake? More wine?’ We’re about to start on his bottle now.
‘Cheesecake yes, wine maybe later. I’d love a coffee with that cheesecake.’
‘Me too. We could take our dessert out to the garden.’ I have even acquired some second hand garden furniture, another castoff from Cat’s mother-in-law.
We sit out here, side by side on my bench, and eat our cheesecake – he has a second helping – and drink our coffee. It’s nice. Watching our dogs makes it feel less awkward than staring at each other over the dining table. I open my mouth to speak then close it again. I’m deliberating with myself. If I bring up what he was telling me about this morning does it look as though I’m just being nosy? If I don’t, does it look as though I don’t care?
I get up and pick up our plates and cups.
‘Wine?’ I ask. ‘We’ll be starting on yours now.’
‘Why not?’ He smiles but he looks distant, distracted. Maybe he’s wondering how soon he can leave without looking rude.
I bring the bottle and two glasses back.
‘The bottle.’ He raises his eyebrows, takes the bottle from me and opens it.
‘I couldn’t unscrew it,’ I lie. ‘Anyway, save getting up again. Just got to remember to put it in the shade between glasses.’
He pours me a glass and hands it to me before pouring his own. His actions are slow and deliberate. I think.
‘Where was I?’ he says, looking at me.
I shake my head slowly and do a little shrug pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. Perhaps I don’t. Perhaps he’s talking about something else. Perhaps I’ll never get to hear what took him so low.
‘Ah yes, Bel and the baby. Huh, sounds like the title of a book, don’t you think?’
I just smile, not too much, no teeth showing.
‘Well, I was ecstatic when Lucia Victoria arrived. I held her first. She looked at me with eyes as dark as her mother’s and blinked. She had a thatch of matted dark hair, a cute little nose. I’ve never felt love like it. Never.’ He stops and stares past our dogs, past my garden; he’s somewhere else altogether.
I reach for the wine bottle but it’s only me who needs a refill.
‘7lbs 11oz of pure love.’ His Adam’s apple is working overtime now. He takes a breath. ‘We went home and we were a family, albeit a fractured one where one little boy went off to his real father’s every other weekend, but the rest of the time it was the four of us. Lucia was a cute baby, everyone said so. My parents came down from Scotland when she was three weeks old and fell in love with her. Mum said she reminded her of me as a baby, she had my chin, my face shape. Everyone else thought she was the double of her mother, and that became more apparent as time went on, but that was okay, because, as I’ve said, Bel is a stunner. In looks. Bel and I rubbed along fine. It wasn’t a great love between us, but we did okay. We wanted the same things, which was mostly the best for our children. To be honest if it hadn’t been for Lucia, I think the thing between Bel and me would have fizzled out. She was too high maintenance for me.’ He stops, looks at me, expects me to say something.
‘In what way?’
‘Salons.’ Air escapes through his nose quickly, almost like a snort. ‘Hair every two weeks, it seemed that the lovely dark hair I’d so admired and that was supposedly from Bel’s distant Italian heritage, hence calling our baby Lucia, needed dyeing frequently. Nails. Tans. Facials. Getting ready to go out, even to go to the supermarket took two hours. But I didn’t care because Lucia was such a delight. Cute, funny, smiley. All the things a father could want. Oh she cried like a baby, of course, but…’
He’s silent now and it goes on for a long time. I’m about to reach over and squeeze his hand when Betty comes pattering over and rests her head on his lap. Shadow follows and does the same, to him, not me.
‘It’s all right, girls,’ he says, patting their heads. ‘I’m okay. I’m fine.’
‘More wine?’ I ask, picking up the bottle.
He glances down at his glass under the bench, still full, and shakes his head. The dogs run off.
‘Bel went back to work when Lucia was a year old, her idea, not mine, only part-time but it did help our finances, well, it paid for her salon sessions.’ He laughs. ‘God, she was high maintenance. And that was us, doing okay. Until the day before Lucia’s third birthday.’
He takes a long swig from his wine glass, quickly followed by another then searches around for the wine bottle before refilling his glass and then mine. I’m starting to feel lightheaded with all the wine, I’ve certainly had more than him.
‘Bel had been going out on work dos, you know, the usual thing, drinks after work, the odd evening, nothing extraordinary, nothing I even thought about. Then he turns up. Josh, her ex. One Saturday night when the kids were in bed and it wasn’t his appointed weekend. We were watching a movie on Netflix, a romcom, with Jennifer Aniston. Bel’s choice, not mine. He’d had a few drinks, he wasn’t drunk, he was quite coherent, but I could smell it on his breath. I answered the door and he strode in, pushed past me, marched into the lounge, started shouting, asking Bel if she’d told me yet? I assumed he wanted more access to his son. Maybe Bel had refused but I didn’t really see what it had to do with me. Or maybe it was to do with the divorce, they still weren’t divorced. I edged out of the room. Bel always said there were things that were too difficult to sort out. I didn’t force the issue because I didn’t want to marry Bel, she didn’t want to marry me. But we were content, you know, doing okay.’
I want to go to t
he loo now, all this wine and coffee has filled me up. But I can’t just get up and go, not now that he’s getting to the part where I suspect it all goes wrong. I fidget.
‘Where’s your toilet?’ he says, standing. ‘All this drink, eh.’
Grateful for the break, I direct him to the downstairs loo and run upstairs myself. He’s hovering in the kitchen when I return, the dogs are in Shadow’s basket and are settling down to sleep.
‘Shall we go in the lounge?’ I ask, leading the way.
We sit on opposite sofas, him staring into the distance, me trying not to look at his face too intensely.
‘He, Josh, called me back in. Made me sit down. Told Bel to tell me, but she couldn’t even look at me. I worked it out pretty quickly, they were having an affair. Or, not an affair since they were still married, so technically I was the affair. I saw it all play out, me having Lucia every other weekend, him back in the marital home when I’d been paying his mortgage for the past three years. I could hardly believe it, yet it had a certain symmetry, an inevitability.’ He stops again, swallowing hard.
‘I’m sorry. That must have been awful.’
‘I could live without Bel. In fact, in the few seconds it took me to realise that I was the interloper now, not him, I felt almost relieved. As long as I was Lucia’s father and saw her frequently, I was going to insist on every weekend, it would be okay. It had never been a great love affair between me and Bel. I’d survive. I had Lucia.’
He stops again and it seems as though he’s gasping for air.
‘By this time Bel was crying and begging Josh to stop but Josh was just shouting, tell him, tell him. I waited for her to tell me it was over between us, that our cosy domestic life was over, but frankly I didn’t need her to do that, it was blatantly obvious. Then Josh said something about if she couldn’t, he would, which made Bel cry even more. So I said it was okay, I knew it was over. I even pretended I’d seen it coming, though I hadn’t. No idea. Bel by this point had almost collapsed on the sofa begging Josh to stop, but he just kept telling her to tell me or he would. I got up, started to walk away, to leave the room, but Josh grabbed me, hauled me back again.’ There are tears rolling down his face now, he’s sobbing in silence again just like he did in the park. He turns to look at me and I know, I know without even thinking about it.
‘She wasn’t yours.’
Phillip stands up and reaches for the tissues I keep on the window sill and blows his nose.
‘Sorry,’ he says, watching me watching him.
I shake my head. ‘Don’t be.’
He just stands there, staring out of the window into the fast approaching twilight.
I stand up too and wrap my arms around him. I’ve got nothing to say, nothing that will make it any better or not sound stupid or trite. No wonder he sat on the bench in the park looking so wretched.
‘You guessed. I didn’t. Josh told me, blunt and to the point, but to be fair not gloating or cruel. Not then. I didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Then it all turned to shit. I just walked out there and then, Bel still sobbing on the floor, Josh just looking at me, pity in his face. And all the time Jennifer Aniston’s perky little face tweeted away in the background. I’ll never watch another romcom again. I walked the streets, finally fell asleep on a bench just as dawn was breaking, not our bench,’ he adds with a brief smile.
Our bench. I always think of it as his bench.
‘I went back home later that Sunday morning, well, their home. I used my key to open the door only it didn’t open, it was deadlocked from the inside. I banged on the door. Josh answered. No sign of Bel or the children. He wouldn’t let me in, just handed me a bag of my stuff, work clothes, toothbrush, toiletries. And Betty, who looked like I felt. Poor Betty, it wasn’t her fault. Then we got nasty with each other on the doorstep of the house that had been my home for the previous three years. I suppose that’s how he must have felt when I moved into his home. I said I wanted proof. I wanted DNA. He said they’d done it already but I could do it too, it would only prove I wasn’t Lucia’s father. He was right, it did. He threatened to call the police if I didn’t go away right then.’
‘Oh God,’ I mutter into his chest because we’re still hugging.
‘I left. Turned up at a mate’s house late afternoon, having spent several hours in the pub. He let me sleep on the sofa, not that his wife was very happy about it, especially as she didn’t like dogs and I had to leave Betty at theirs the next morning when I went to work. But work sent me home before lunch because I had a meltdown in front of a client. Apparently. I don’t remember. My mate’s wife wanted me out, said it wasn’t good for their children, three little boys, to see the state of me every morning. The mate helped me find the place I’ve been in ever since. At least I could afford it, I had my phone, my wallet. I had to buy another phone charger though, she never put that in my bag. And once my phone was charged, I stopped all the direct debits that paid the bills, that ran their house.’ Wow, that sounds familiar.
He lets go of me and I have to loosen my grip too. He sits back down on his sofa and I perch on the edge of mine.
‘I did things I vaguely remember, things I’m not proud of. I went back to the house when I knew they’d be at work. The locks had been changed. Already. I went to Lucia’s nursery, the staff called Bel. It didn’t stop me. I went again, but Bel had instructed the nursery to call the police. Josh took out an injunction against me, I couldn’t go within half a mile of them, of Lucia. I couldn’t even get my belongings until they said so. I stopped asking, I didn’t care. I started to slide down into an abyss of self-despair, self-pity.
‘I went to the doctors, or rather my mate took me. I just sat there like a zombie. I got antidepressants. They made me worse. Then work stepped in and sent me for help, for counselling, for CBT. Thank God. It doesn’t stop it hurting though. Then I found out about the birth certificate, because I hadn’t been there, I wasn’t on it, Bel had arranged a visit to the registrar without me. It didn’t really change anything, just rubbed salt in a festering wound.’
I want to stop him and ask about the counselling, the cognitive behavioural therapy, but he’s so in the moment, so determined to get everything out that I just nod and listen.
‘Bel knew, deep down, subliminally. I think she’d always suspected. I think she confided in Josh once they were having their affair, not that technically, legally, it was an affair. I was the affair.’ He reminds me of myself, repeating things just like I do.
‘And you’ve not seen Lucia since?’
‘No. Just that once glimpse at nursery. She waved and her face lit up. I don’t suppose she knows what’s going on? They won’t have told her, not everything, obviously. But she’s three, she’ll miss me, she’ll ask questions. She’ll ask where Daddy is.’ Tears drip silently down his face. He cuffs them away.
‘Yes,’ I whisper.
‘And the rest you know, because you’ve seen me in the park.’ He gives me a sly look. ‘Looking like a drug-crazed zombie.’ He winks. Has he heard me describe him as Spice man? He can’t have, surely.
‘When did this all happen?’
‘That night, the Jennifer Aniston night, 4th September. I’ll never forget it. The day before Lucia’s birthday. Huh. They went ahead with the party, too. Without me. I’m dreading the anniversary.’
I gasp, hold my hand over my mouth. I can feel my heart start to beat out an old, familiar pattern in my chest. Horror mixed with panic.
‘Me too,’ I say. ‘That was my wedding day.’
It’s also the date of Grimmy’s birthday party.
Twenty-one
Grimmy is sitting in her new chair in her corner of the kitchen looking regal.
It’s a lovely day and many of the guests have spilled out into the garden. I go over to give my great-grandmother a hug and kiss, even though she winces.
‘Happy birthday, Grimmy.’
‘You didn’t say and many more.’
‘I have in my card,
it’s on the table with all the rest.’ You just cannot win with Grimmy.
‘Who’s this?’
Phillip stands behind me, he’s watching Grimmy as well as looking around. Fortunately, although there are many people in the room, all of my family are in the garden. So the full inquisition won’t start just yet.
‘I’ve brought a friend. Grimmy, meet Phillip.’ I wave my hand at Phillip, then at Grimmy. ‘And this is my great-grandmother, Grimmy.’
‘Grim by name and grim by nature,’ she says, giving me a lop-sided wink.
‘What?’ I can’t help it coming out of my mouth.
‘I keep telling you I’m not deaf, Lauren. I’m not stupid, either.’ She laughs, well cackles.
‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ Phillip says while I stand there open-mouthed. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’
‘I haven’t heard anything about you.’ She looks him up and down, making no attempt to pretend she isn’t appraising him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this one, Cat?’ she calls over my shoulder.
Cat appears at my side, carrying a tray of drinks, a grin on her face.
‘I didn’t know anything about him, Grimmy.’ Well, it’s almost true. ‘Got to go, I’m playing waitress at the moment.’ She gives me a sly smirk.
‘He’s good looking, I’ll give you that, Lauren,’ Grimmy says without any shame.
I mouth a sorry to Phillip but he just smiles.
‘It’s a relief really,’ she adds.
‘What is?’ I’ve no idea what she’s on about now.
‘That you’ve found a man, because now I can stop looking for one for you. I won’t need to bother with that tinderbox thing now.’ She turns to Phillip and addresses her next comment at him while I stand there, my mouth gaping like a goldfish and my face blushing horribly. ‘I found a lovely gas man for her, but she turned her nose up. Wouldn’t even meet him. Still, you look a lot better than Gollum. His eyes were too close together and scary. Yours look quite normal.’
‘Phillip and I are just friends, Grimmy. I’ve told you enough times that I’m not looking for a man.’