by Ilsa Evans
‘No, I don’t,’ I comment, taking a sip of champagne.
‘God! All right, she decided that she didn’t need a few months to think things over so she applied for some leave and followed me. And gave me a hell of a shock too. Anyway, we had this huge argument and she flew off to her parents’ place and I slept on it and felt like a total heel. So I went up there the next morning and tried to explain things better.’
‘And how did she take it?’
‘Not well. But at least she’s accepted it, and I can’t do much more –’ Alex pauses and gives me a rather indecipherable look – ‘but I can’t apologise enough for putting you in that awkward situation. It was really crappy. But I did try to get hold of you to talk, you know – I even sent the flowers to try to get your attention. Because, I have to say, no one was more surprised than me about what happened on Tuesday night.’
‘Except perhaps me,’ I feel bound to add, and then I notice Maggie heading back over across the lawn with Fergus in tow. ‘Here comes your sister.’
‘Oh, hell. I really want to get this over and done with.’ Alex twists around in his chair to face Maggie and communicates with her via a series of nods, shakes and shrugs. Whatever the message was, she obviously understands it and nods back at her brother before taking Fergus by the arm and steering him over to an empty table.
‘Very impressive,’ I comment, taking another sip of champagne.
‘I have many hidden talents.’ Alex raises his eyebrows lasciviously. ‘And you have only just scratched the surface.’
‘Speaking of that, when you said earlier about Maggie ringing about the kids and me – what you meant was, she told you about me being in therapy, didn’t you?’
‘Well, yeah. But it’s none of my business.’
‘I know, but I want to say this. Because it’s common knowledge that my second marriage was pretty shitty –’ I look at Alex and he looks steadily back – ‘but it was just that after it was all over, I decided that I wanted to talk to someone about a few things, that’s all. It’s not like it was an ongoing thing, or I was addicted to Valium or anything. I went for a while, got myself straightened out, and that’s that. End of story. But she was right about the kids – you being back is really great for them.’ I smile at him and suddenly realise how right I am. It doesn’t have to be a competition, and I don’t have to get jealous if Sam tells Alex something that she doesn’t tell me. After all, if we work this thing out properly, then we can work in conjunction and not opposition. And because he can never replace me, not even if he wanted to. He’s been away too long, for a start.
‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Is my being back great for you too?’ He looks at me questioningly as he takes a sip of champagne. ‘I’m serious. How do you feel about it all?’
‘Look, Alex, yes, I’m glad you’re back. I like you, I’ve always liked you – you’re fun to have around, and I love to see my kids happy. Mind you, I could have lived without you breaking my nose.’
‘God, how was that doctor?’ Alex remarks and then falls silent, no doubt remembering the little scene at the hospital. I look around the backyard. Mum and Harold are still mingling, passing from one table to the next. The Richard III mob have pulled their table over to the bowling club mob and seem to be having a grand time. I flinch involuntarily as I see that Ben has got hold of a video camera and, with his cousin Michael shouting instructions, is videotaping the proceedings. Anything to do with videos and I get an automatic image of a large, pink me looming ever closer until all the pink is gone and only the non-pink bits remain. And I think I will be having that reaction for a very long time. I look away and note that Great Aunt Pru has fallen asleep with her head on a table and Auntie Annie has moved over to sit with the best man. They seem to be getting on together very well. Aunt Emma and her tribe are all sitting in stony silence, narrowly surveying the company, and Harold’s wizened old mother is holding court amongst her own relations over at the far side of the yard. Next to the archway, Phillip and Elizabeth are still smooching and carrying on (really, enough’s enough!), and David, Diane, Terry, Nick and Bronte are locked in a fierce discussion that involves a lot of frowns and general hand-waving. Bronte is crying.
As my gaze travels back across the yard, I suddenly catch sight of the table where Fergus and Maggie are deep in conversation. Or rather, Fergus is deep in conversation and Maggie is listening with a beatific smile on her face. No prizes for guessing what he is telling her all about. I know from experience how little it takes for that man to tell everything he has to tell. He would have been a total failure in any sort of secret service.
Just then a baby starts to whimper quite close by. I peer around the side of the table and spot the two baby capsules, abandoned by their parents, opposite me. The whimpering quickly turns into a full-scale mewl that soon gains an echo.
‘They’ve left those babies here!’ I exclaim to Alex as I get up and move around the table. ‘Poor little foundlings! Do you suppose we should do something?’
‘Preferably not,’ comments Alex, though he too stands and peers around the table.
We are saved by the bell when the babies’ father jogs over to the table and hefts a capsule up with each hand. The whimpering within ceases immediately and Alex and I both sit back down. David looks at us distractedly.
‘She’s pregnant – about four months gone.’
‘Oh, no! Oh, David – is she sure?’ I ask in shock.
‘Pretty bloody sure at four months, I’d reckon,’ says David with disgust.
‘Oh, god. How’s Terry taking it?’
‘Not too well. In fact she’s making things a hell of a lot worse, if you ask me.’ David shakes his head despondently. ‘Not that Diane’s helping either.’
‘Oh, David. I’m so sorry.’ I can’t really think what else to say. I suppose I should say congratulations, you’re going to be a grandfather! But considering the prospective parents are both still at university and don’t have two pennies to rub together, it doesn’t seem particularly appropriate.
‘Tough luck, Dave,’ says Alex grimly. ‘Do you want us to mind the babies?’
‘No, it’ll be fine thanks, mate. They’re finding somewhere to sit and talk so I’d better get back over there. Who’d have kids, hey? Cheers.’ He hoists the capsules up and over the table and heads off to where his party are arranging themselves sullenly around a spare table.
‘Do you want us to mind the babies?’ I repeat with derision. ‘I know who would have ended up minding the babies, thanks.’
‘Tough break though,’ says Alex.
‘Yes, it sure is. Terry’s going to be beside herself.’
‘But that’s what happened to us, isn’t it? All it takes is one mistake and it changes the course of your life. Stupid kids.’
‘They’ll cope,’ I say pragmatically. ‘We did.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Alex falls silent, fingering the stem of his champagne glass.
I decide to take the bull by the horns. ‘Look, about us –’
‘Yeah, we need to talk about that.’ Alex takes a deep breath and pulls himself together. ‘I’ll go first. And I’ll be totally honest. I did not come back here expecting to get into a relationship with you. I did not come back here expecting to get into anything with you. I mean, I was looking forward to seeing you, and the up-close and personal look I got at your daughter’s party was certainly most enjoyable –’
‘Alex,’ I say threateningly. ‘For the last time – it was not me!’
‘Okay, okay!’ Alex laughs and holds up his hand in mock defence before becoming serious once more. ‘But, really, I was just looking forward to catching up and all, so Tuesday night knocked me for six. And I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since. Because I’ve just got out of a relationship that was really clingy and bloody suffocating – not that I’m saying you are, of course – but I was really looking forward to free time. Getting my house sorted out, my job on track
, spending time with my sister and, most of all, getting to know my kids all over again. And I sort of feel like they should be my first priority – and if I start something with you, then they can’t be. But having said all that, well, you do something to me that I really didn’t expect.’
‘I do?’ I ask with considerable surprise.
‘You sure do,’ he sighs, shaking his head ruefully. ‘There’s just something about you – always has been. But, I don’t know, I didn’t expect to still feel the same way after all these years, that’s for sure. And I knew, almost as soon as I saw you again, that there was no way Linnet and I were going to work out. Especially not living next door! Then when I saw you get out of the car before with that guy, I was so pissed off that I nearly turned around and went back home.’
‘Did you?’ I ask, again with considerable surprise.
‘Yeah, sure did. Got as far as the car before I pulled myself together. And that’s exactly what I mean. I came today so that I could see the kids – it was a big day for them, especially Sam, and I really want to be part of their lives. But instead I nearly blow it because of you. And that won’t do. I have to put them first.’
‘So what exactly are you saying?’ I ask, because parts of this speech have made me feel all gooey inside, and other parts have turned me cold. And I need to work out which is which.
‘I suppose I’m saying that I don’t want a relationship just now, but I don’t want to lose you either.’ Alex looks at me quickly. ‘Not that I’m saying I have you, of course.’
‘Of course,’ I agree as I prepare to say my bit, ‘and I think I know exactly what you’re trying to say. Because I feel the same. I’ve been racking my brains all week to try to work out what I want and how I feel – and this is it. I don’t want a full-on relationship – not with you, not with anyone. Although, if I did want one with anyone, then it would be you. But I don’t, so it’s not. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfectly. Go on.’
‘Well, I’ve finally got my life to a really good point. I’m about to start university again, I’ve got great friends, great kids . . . and I’m really, really happy. I don’t want to be a “couple”, not at this stage of my life anyway. I like being on my own, making my own decisions, not having to check anything with anybody. I can crawl into bed at eight-thirty with a glass of wine and a good book if I want, and it’s no one’s business but mine. I love it.’
‘Well, you don’t seem to have any doubts.’ Alex takes another sip of champagne and stares out over the garden.
‘Actually, yes, I have. Because I didn’t expect Tuesday night either, and I could have killed you when Linnet turned up. And, well . . . I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all week.’
‘Ah-hah!’ Alex turns back to me, looking considerably happier. ‘That’s better! So what’s to be done then?’
‘Well . . .’ I look at him thoughtfully, and then slowly smile. ‘I think I have a proposition.’
‘I love propositions! Go on.’
‘Well, what do you say to us giving up on the idea of a full-on relationship – because neither of us want that anyway – but continuing with our Tuesday nights? Without anyone else knowing, that is. Like a clandestine relationship type of thing. And not every Tuesday night, or even necessarily Tuesday either, but just once in a while. You know, every so often, when the kids are out or whatever, and we get together, have a few drinks, chat a bit – you know . . .’ I start to peter off because Alex is looking at me with a really strange expression. ‘You don’t like it?’
‘Don’t like it? I love it!’ Alex’s strange expression has metamorphosed into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his face. ‘It’s exactly what I would have liked to suggest but I was terrified that you’d think I was being a pig or something! God, you’re unbelievable!’
‘Unbelievable good? Or unbelievable bad?’
‘Unbelievable fantastic!’ Alex reaches out and grabs my hand. ‘But if you – or I – decide you want to date others, then the rule is you have to tell me straight away, right?’
‘Fair enough. Oh, and Alex?’ I look at him thoughtfully.
‘Yep?’
‘If this is going to be a successful secret sort of thing, don’t you think you should let go of my hand?’
‘Oh. Yes, of course.’ Alex lets go and sits back in his seat. ‘So we’re going to have a clandestine relationship? I think that sounds pretty cool. And we don’t tell anyone, which means you don’t even tell Diane?’
‘And you don’t tell Maggie either,’ I say, glancing over to where that particular female is sitting, staring at us with a huge smile on her face. ‘In fact, especially don’t tell Maggie!’
‘No worries,’ he laughs as he follows my gaze.
‘It’ll be sort of like an affair.’ I muse over the possibilities. ‘But listen, only once in a while. I don’t need you on my case every second night.’
‘Likewise, my dear.’ Alex refills both our glasses. ‘And I propose a toast – to us, and our sordid affair. May we satiate each other – intellectually, emotionally and physically! Perhaps we could even try one of those newfangled forty-niners?’
‘Don’t push it.’
‘Worth a try. But if we’re having an affair anyway, could I have a copy of that tape?’
‘No.’
‘You’ve still got that mole, you know. I checked it out.’
‘Still no.’
‘I’ll have to tape my own then,’ he says laughing. ‘Anyway, here’s to us – cheers!’
‘Cheers!’ I concur as I raise my glass and drink deeply. I am feeling extremely content – much like the cat that got the proverbial cream, in fact. I smile at Alex and he smiles back. Hmm, I wonder when our next Tuesday night will be?
Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. There goes that damn spoon and glass trick again. I look up and this time it’s my mother calling for everyone’s attention. Harold beams next to her as she beats the glass with her spoon one more time and silence falls over the garden.
‘I promise this is the last little speech you’ll hear this afternoon! And it will be fairly short and sweet. Firstly, I’d like to let you know that the coffee and desserts are being prepared and will be brought out shortly –’ she waves her hand majestically towards the trestle tables, which are being cleared at a rapid rate by the catering staff – ‘and in the meantime Harold and I would like to share with you one of the reasons we picked this date to hold our wedding. You see, originally we wanted to have the closest date that we could to Valentine’s Day and then, when we worked out that today was it, well – I realised that it already was a very special day for our family. Which made it all just perfect. So I’d like you all to join us in singing a very happy birthday to my middle daughter, Camilla, who turns forty today!’
My mouth drops open in surprise as everybody, whether they know me or not, cheers enthusiastically. And suddenly a huge, very well-lit chocolate cake (with several small finger marks in it) is advancing upon me surrounded by a rowdy crowd singing happy birthday at the top of their lungs. Within minutes I am enclosed by people, patting me on the back, wishing me the very best, kissing me on the cheek, and shoving presents onto my lap. David and Diane have given up their interrogation of the prospective parents and are leaning over the back of Alex’s chair, smiling at the look on my face. Even Terry is grinning a bit and standing over to one side with her arm around a very red-eyed Bronte, and Fergus has put his arm around her. Maggie sits down squarely on her brother’s lap and he stages a mock heart attack while he winks at me surreptitiously. My mother and Harold stand centre-stage, smiling broadly, and even Phillip and Elizabeth have called a halt to their mutual adoration and joined in the fun. Great Aunt Pru has been left to sleep with her head on the table, but Auntie Annie and her new beau are clapping with the rest. Even Aunt Emma, and a few of her sour tribe, have ventured across the yard to see what all the fuss is about. Diane’s boys lounge around the periphery but Samantha and Benjamin have squeezed through
and are standing, with CJ, next to me and grinning for all they are worth.
‘Blow them out! C’mon, blow them out!’
‘Quick, before the fire brigade get here!’
‘You can do it!’
I take a deep breath and blow for all I am worth. Then I have another few goes and finally get all the candles out. Everyone cheers. I stare at the half-melted, pock-marked cake, the pile of presents spilling off my lap, and then up at the crowd of friends and family who are all smiling down at me – and feel all choked up.
‘Mummy! Mummy! Open ours first!’ A grubby fist shoves a brightly coloured package into my hands and I grab my youngest daughter’s chocolatey face and kiss it firmly. Then I look up at her brother and sister and blow them both a kiss as well.
‘You help me, okay?’ I reach up and Samantha kneels down by my side while Ben moves closer and, with CJ’s rough but ready help, we tear the wrapping off in no time and suddenly there, nestled in my hand, is a Barbie. But not just any Barbie – this is a special edition, collectible Barbie, a Graduation Barbie, complete with official gown, mortarboard and a certificate of diploma nestled within her tiny hands.
God, I think I’m going to cry.
SUNDAY
9.26 pm
There is a knock at the front door just as I finish piling all my presents neatly on the kitchen table, where they can stay until I have time to have a better look. I glance at the wall-clock quickly, wondering who it could possibly be at this time. It can’t be Sam – she’s staying over at Sara’s. It can’t be Ben – he’s staying over at Diane’s. And just about everyone else I know should be pretty exhausted after today’s activities.
I walk slowly down to the front door and spare a quick moment to glance into the bathroom mirror and run my fingers through my hair. Then I glance into CJ’s room to ensure that she is still fast asleep.