‘We’re in the right place, now, I think.’ Unaccustomed to talking about emotions, Sam felt his way along. ‘Friends, I mean. We’re good at that.’ He looked at her for the longest time before saying, ‘You’re essential to me, Anna.’
Happy crying was another pregnancy side effect Anna could give in to.
With Paul in charge, Maeve was bang on time, with no tale of train woe. She showed off a new necklace – a looped rose gold affair – and instructed Storm to walk up and down in his new trainers. Storm refused, and took to the sofa with his phone.
‘No, no.’ Paul shushed Maeve. ‘Let him, darling.’
‘He didn’t even say thank you properly,’ said Maeve, who rarely used those important words herself. She raised her voice so Storm could hear. ‘He’s being very childish. His dad won’t be impressed.’
‘Your hair . . .’ wondered Anna, as Paul and Sam had one of those conversations about motorway traffic that seem to turn men on.
‘Do you like it?’ Maeve did a twirl.
‘It’s very neat,’ said Anna. No, I don’t like it. Maeve had never before succumbed to a hairdryer. ‘New dress?’
‘I’ve gone all posh!’ laughed Maeve.
She’d been tamed by a navy wool sheath. ‘You look like somebody playing you in a movie.’
‘Paul treated me to a few bits and pieces.’ Maeve stuck out a glossy court shoe.
‘She looks horrible,’ said Storm.
Maeve groaned, but Anna saw the sadness in Paul’s eyes as he took in his girlfriend’s immovable son.
All the other guests arrived at once. A job lot of Neil, Santi, Paloma and Josh. In the hubbub of hellos, Anna hung back, beside Maeve. ‘One of the benefits of being an older mother,’ she said, ‘is that by the time this kid is Storm’s age I’ll be too doolally to care about it being rude to me.’
Maeve didn’t laugh. Instead, she looked savage. ‘An older mum? Shut the fuck up, Sis. There’s no such thing. There’s just mums.’ She prodded Anna in the arm. ‘Every baby comes in its own time. There are no rules, so don’t go looking at any of those crappy websites. Every mother is the best mother for their baby.’
‘O . . . kay,’ said Anna slowly. Maeve didn’t usually give (or take) advice.
‘You hear me? You’re going to be an amazing mummy.’
Touched, inspired even, Anna hugged Maeve, who was still going.
‘Sexist shit – don’t let it into your head!’
Neil led the charge in from the hallway. ‘Come on, what have you done with my little sister,’ he demanded. ‘This woman is obviously a politician’s wife.’ He held Maeve at arm’s length. ‘You’re clean,’ he said, disbelievingly.
Santi struggled along behind him. Teething, red in the face, Paloma bounced in his arms like a bad-tempered grasshopper. ‘Ladies, hola,’ he said as politely as he was able while setting Paloma down on her playmat.
She sped off immediately. Neil dodged out of her way as Santi scampered after her on all fours.
‘That’ll be you this time next year,’ said Neil to Anna. ‘You won’t know what’s hit you. We managed three hours’ sleep last night.’
‘Don’t scare her,’ said Santi, Paloma now tucked under his arm. ‘It’s all worth it, my love.’
‘But she’ll be doing it on her own,’ said Neil, accepting a Twiglet from Sam.
Families don’t sugar-coat the truth. Anna took a Twiglet, and watched Paloma crawl under the table. Her niece’s fate had given Anna hope about Bonnie’s adoption. Carly, she corrected herself. That was before the letters had told her the real story. That her daughter was resentful, angry, manipulative. No wonder I hate it when Neil expresses ambivalence about adopting Paloma.
‘Where’s Luca?’ asked Santi, as Paloma repeated, ‘Papi Papi Papi’ in his arms. ‘Coming later?’
‘Um, no.’ Anna kept it brief. When they broke into mews of sympathy, she put her hand up like a traffic cop. ‘Don’t be nice. I’ll cry.’
‘He’ll come crawling back,’ said Neil.
The photograph wasn’t mentioned. ‘We had a row,’ was as far as Anna was prepared to go. ‘You knew, I suppose,’ she murmured to Josh.
‘Yeah. He didn’t say much. He seemed pretty cut up.’
This both pleased and dismayed Anna. She chided herself for caring: Luca had cheated on her.
‘I’m not taking sides,’ said Josh, ‘but are you OK? Luca didn’t go into detail but I said, “My sister’s perfect, Luca, so you must have done something really bad for her to give up on you.” ’
Anna leaned against Josh’s narrow chest. She forgot that he was tall; he was an eternal seven-year-old to her. ‘That’s sweet,’ she whispered, glad of him and his characteristic smell of books and gum.
A memory darted past like an eel. ‘Josh, did I see a floppy hat at your flat?’
‘Yeah. It belongs to Thea.’ Josh smiled; the thought of her made him happy, it would seem. ‘She’s a sucker for floaty scarves and daft hats and accessories in general. Bit like Maeve. Or the old Maeve, at any rate.’
Anna didn’t listen. Her thoughts raced round a rut. Luca is seeing Thea behind Josh’s back. He’d managed to betray a brother and a sister at the same time. ‘Eh? What?’ she said, when Josh shook her.
‘I said I’m worried you won’t like Thea.’ Josh was deadly serious, as if Anna not liking his girlfriend would be the end of the world.
‘I’ll like anybody who treats you the way you deserve to be treated.’
‘Like a piece of crystal, you mean?’ Josh’s tone was still mild, but the words had sharp edges. ‘Or like a human being?’
‘Get the door someone!’ yelled Sam from upstairs.
Glad of the opportunity to walk away, Anna took a moment to herself; today was simply too much. The letters. Dinkie’s revelations. Missing Luca, and hating him for a new abomination. And now my brother is scolding me for loving him!
Her hand on the latch, Anna knew who was on the other side of the front door. Somebody she’d last seen six days ago in a cocktail bar carved out of a Soho basement.
Walking into the glittering cube, Anna had seen herself reflected in the mirrors that lined every surface. A woman in pregnancy jeans and flats. Red in the face. Flat of hair.
She’d held her bag before her like a shield as she spotted her guest at the bar.
There had been no air-kissing from Isabel. ‘I don’t have long. I’m meeting a date in an hour.’
That could have been bravado, but Anna met it head-on as she negotiated the bar stool. ‘Cancel it. Go back to Sam. Whoever this new guy is, he couldn’t love you half as much as Sam still does.’ She’d puffed, then, slightly out of breath, but safe on the seat and with all her cards on the table.
Isabel’s sullen mask slipped. ‘How is he?’
Good sign, thought Anna. ‘Calm at last. He’s finally stopped self-medicating with Jack Daniels. He said he’s stopped texting you at all hours.’
A curt nod.
‘I told him the messages were probably freaking you out.’
‘Did you? Did you tell him that, Anna?’ Isabel was arch.
I deserve that. It was time to put things right. With only eleven weeks before her baby arrived, Anna needed to tie up loose ends. She had no control over the loose end she’d been living with since she was sixteen, but maybe she could help Sam and Isabel. Like her plan to paint the spare room white for the baby, it was a fresh start. Honest. Immaculate. ‘Isabel, listen, I encouraged you to think that Sam, well, belongs to me, that I had first dibs on him. The truth is, he belongs to himself. And he wants you. Do you love him?’
‘Why should I answer that?’
‘No reason at all. You don’t owe me a thing.’ She waited. And eventually it came.
‘Of course I love Sam,’ said Isabel in a tiny voice. She shook her hair, defiant. ‘But there’s unfinished business between you and him. Your marriage loomed over us, and nothing grows in the shade, Anna. I’ve been second best before and it’s
humiliating. We all have deal-breakers and that’s mine.’
‘If you talk to him about it, he’ll—’
‘You should hear the way Sam talks about you.’ Isabel rattled the ice in her glass. ‘As if you’re the perfect woman.’
‘He does? When we’re in the shed, he ridicules my every move. Tells me I’m too old for Topshop.’
‘Your opinion is the only one that matters to Sam. Before I met you, he built it up as if he was introducing me to the queen. I was so nervous . . .’
‘Of me?’ Why would anybody be nervous of this hot mess, an accidental mother twice over?
‘Then I met you and your face . . . You looked horrified.’
Anna remembered. ‘Let me explain. I’d geared myself up to announce the baby. I was in a terrible state. And Sam didn’t prepare me. He hadn’t said a word about you and he tells—’
‘—you everything. Yes. We know. We get it.’
Anna had to slap down her instinct to fight back. ‘I was threatened by you.’ Telling the truth gets easier the more you do it; once Anna had that morsel out in the open she sped up. ‘Not because I’m in love with Sam, but because he’s part of my daily life. He’s always been there, unchanging. He’s been so single for so long that I’ve stopped thinking of him as a sensual man. But it’s obvious, isn’t it? Sam needs love as much as the rest of us do.’ Anna paused, eyeing Isabel to see how this was going down. Impossible to tell. ‘I really was glad that Sam found you. That somebody appreciated his kindness, his honesty, his sense of humour and fancied the pants off him. Honestly, I liked you, Isabel, but that was buried under layers of rubble.’ She might as well use the right word. ‘I was jealous.’
It wasn’t easy owning up to that. It made Anna feel vulnerable, as if she’d just bared her throat to a knife.
Isabel had no intention of using a knife. She softened. ‘I’m so confused. I mean, you two don’t even know why you divorced!’
‘What does that tell you? Grand passions blow apart. Sam and I wound down until our relationship consisted of rows about the gas bill.’ She took a deep breath to prepare for full(ish) disclosure. ‘Even on our wedding day, I knew I wasn’t the love of Sam’s life. There are things you may not know about me, Isabel. I’d been through a lot and Sam, well, he took care of me because that’s what he’s like. He was dutiful, helping me escape my demons. That’s not enough to sustain a marriage. I always knew Sam was special, but I also knew he wasn’t mine.’
Isabel stared. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said, miserably.
‘Can I be bossy for a moment? Give Sam a chance. It might be true love. It might not. But for God’s sake don’t pass up a chance like this because of me!’
They’d parted without any promises from Isabel, but now, as Anna opened the front door, she saw her on Sam’s step. Anna put a finger to her own lips as Sam emerged from the upstairs bathroom, and crept back to the Sunday Lunch Club, leaving them to it.
Paloma stood on her Uncle Josh’s lap. Her fingers were in his eyes and up his nose. ‘Ooh, ow,’ he said. ‘She’s very – ouch – lively today.’
Easing open the sticky sliding door to Sam’s neglected patio, Anna put her phone to her ear. Watching the tableau inside, she heard Luca say a cautious ‘Hello’.
‘One question. Is that Thea in the photograph with you?’
‘Are you serious? I don’t hear from you for a month and then you—’
‘Is it Thea?’
‘Yes. Yes it is. There. Satisfied? Oh, and I strangle kittens as well.’
The line went dead. Anna watched Josh. He was loose, happy. Confident enough to reprimand his older sister. I can’t tell him. Not yet. Not today.
All the worst jobs seemed to land in Anna’s lap.
In the sitting room, Isabel’s arrival was going down well.
‘Thank God you’re back!’ said Neil. ‘Sam’s been bloody unbearable without you.’
‘We missed you,’ said Josh.
‘It’s so so lovely to be here.’ Isabel had tears in her eyes.
‘I’ve promised to take things slowly,’ said Sam, who fidgeted beside her, as if he wanted to burst out of his skin with joy. ‘No more wild talk of moving in together. Let’s see where it goes.’
The afternoon had been dusted with glitter. The sparkle of a new beginning. Anna, in the twilight of her relationship’s aftermath, wished them well. She was still processing what had happened with Luca. A month, she knew, was a drop in the ocean of ‘getting over’ something. She was suspicious of the concept: she’d never ‘got over’ giving Bonnie away.
I’ll process it. Nice and slow. She’d already accepted it; she had no choice. I can’t take back a cheater. Processing the knowledge that Luca had looked into her eyes, made love to her, while seeing somebody else was like trying to swallow a brick.
She pulled Isabel to one side. ‘Were you really off on a date that night?’
Isabel winked. ‘I was meeting my mum.’ She put her hand over her mouth. ‘It gets worse. She took me to bingo.’
Anna had been eating Sam’s spag bol for years. It had yet to taste of anything. The conversation was raucous; she was glad of it, after her time spent navel-gazing. She leaned into Storm, and said, under cover of the noise around them, ‘Cheer up, Stormy. Your mum looks happy. Surely that’s a good thing?’
‘Won’t last. Never does.’
‘You’re too young to be that cynical.’
‘I’ve heard her screaming and crying at blokes. They turn up drunk and she’s drunk too and they have a big row. Or they don’t turn up and she’s drunk. She calls and calls them until she throws her phone across the room. It’s not romantic like in films. It’s more like a war.’
Anna looked across at Maeve, who was happily arguing with Neil about what David Bowie’s real name had been. Maeve believed she kept her dramas away from Storm, but that cottage they shared was too small for Storm to be oblivious, and here was the proof. ‘That’s why you came back from Boston. To keep an eye on her.’
‘Nah. Boston was boring.’
Anna remembered Storm regressing to kid-hood, tearing around on a bike as the sun bounced off the sea. ‘Yeah. So boring.’ Suspicious suddenly, Anna said, ‘Paul doesn’t do any of those things, though?’
‘Paul’s perfect,’ said Storm wearily. A weary teenager is the weariest thing in the world. ‘It’s all, like, posh restaurants and presents and new clothes.’
‘He makes her feel secure, Storm. When you’re older you’ll understand why that’s so vital.’
‘I hate him,’ said Storm. ‘I really really hate him.’
The After Eights went down so well with the Sunday Lunch Club that Anna wondered why she ever bothered whipping up fancy desserts.
‘We all have secrets,’ Isabel was saying, after being gently ridiculed for a childhood obsession with Cliff Richard.
‘Amen to that,’ said Anna, who felt stuffed full of them.
‘You especially,’ said Sam, pointing his After Eight at her.
‘What? No.’ Anna frowned. He was tipsy. ‘Don’t—’
‘She thinks I don’t know,’ said Sam, ‘but I’ve seen her. Putting scarves on Yeti.’
‘He likes it!’ Relieved, Anna defended herself as the others laughed.
‘Storm’s secret,’ said Paul, ‘is that underneath all that silence he’s a great kid.’
‘True!’ said Neil.
‘He won’t tell you, but I will.’ Paul was boasting as if Storm was his own child. ‘He’s been chosen to represent the school at a languages symposium at Oxford University.’
‘My little genius,’ said Maeve, whose hairdo was unravelling.
‘Shut up,’ pleaded Storm.
‘He hates praise, but he’ll have to get used to it,’ said Paul.
A squeal and Paloma pushed over Santi’s glass. ‘Take her, Neil,’ he said, as hands reached out to mop up.
Anna was glad that Neil took the baby without demur, even if he did hold her awkwar
dly. Some progress had been made since she and Santi had pranked him into babysitting a few Sunday Lunch Clubs ago.
Paul said, his arm around Maeve, ‘It’s not often you meet an amazing woman, and it’s even rarer to find she has an equally amazing son.’
‘Aw,’ said Isabel and Sam together. Then they laughed because they’d said it together. Then they laughed again because they laughed together.
‘If my two little lads,’ said Paul, ‘grow up anything like Storm, I’ll feel their mother and I have done a good job.’
Maeve rubbed the back of her neck, a gesture she’d been making since childhood. Anna deciphered it: She doesn’t like him mentioning the ex. It was healthy, in Anna’s opinion, for Paul to be so straightforward; relationships break up, but parents remain parents for the rest of their lives.
Inevitably, she thought of Dylan, her own co-parent. The urge to roll her eyes was strong, but unfair. When she’d called him after her latest hospital appointment, he’d been full of his new girlfriend, a model. He’d texted Anna twenty-three pictures of this girl in a bikini. Which is not what you want when you’ve spotted your first varicose vein.
‘Hey, Palomita,’ said Josh, borrowing Santi’s pet name for the baby. ‘You’re getting After Eight all over your daddy’s shirt.’
‘Oh no,’ whined Neil, pulling a face. At his side, Santi used his freedom to wolf down his wine, and finish off the pasta he’d barely touched; he knew he was on borrowed time – Neil never held Paloma for long.
‘She’s got chocolate all over her face,’ laughed Anna. Paloma, always ready to enjoy herself, chuckled, setting them all off.
Slapping the table, Josh guffawed. Anna noticed how ready he was to laugh these days; she noticed everything about him, from the tips of his long pale fingers to the top of his head where his chestnut hair whirled, to his toes that tapped out music nobody else could hear.
Am I about to break his heart? So many deadlines reared up at Anna. The eleventh of November. The baby’s due date. Telling Josh that his girlfriend and his therapist were making the beast with two backs.
The Sunday Lunch Club Page 20