“Because I said…” Across the table, the girl’s eyes filled with tears. For the first time, Eve could see Alfie’s big blue eyes staring back at her from Hannah’s face. To her shock, it dawned on her that she’d never really looked before. But now that she did, the girl looked thinner than ever, and there were gray shadows that should never have been under thirteen-year-old eyes.
“Dad’s unhappy, Alfie’s unhappy, Sophie’s unhappy. Everyone’s unhappy. It’s like…almost like Mommy died all over again. And it’s all my fault.”
“No,” Eve said, her own eyes filling up as she reached across the table to squeeze the girl’s hand. “It’s not. It’s nothing like that. Your mommy was just that. Your mommy. And you only get one of those.”
Eve closed her eyes briefly, struggling to collect her thoughts. Should she say more? Ian would kill her. But that didn’t matter now, did it? Ian was gone, and the girl sitting opposite her, eyes red and nose running, well, didn’t she deserve more?
“I was never trying to replace your mommy, Hannah,” she said at last. “At least I didn’t mean to…if it seemed that way, I, well, I’m sorry.”
The girl sniffed and Eve plowed on. “It wasn’t easy, though, was it?” she said. “You and me, I mean. We didn’t exactly get on like a house on fire. But no, I promise, I didn’t leave because of you, not because of what you said.”
“Then why did you go? We just came home from school and Daddy said you’d moved out. It was the worst weekend ever.”
“It wasn’t…,” Eve started, then caught herself. It was, she realized. It was a lot like that.
“I’m sorry, Hannah,” she said. “But I told you. I can’t say. You really will have to ask Dad.”
“And I told you, I already asked him, and he won’t tell me.
“I’m sick of this.” Suddenly Hannah slammed down her coffee so hard that the saucer shook.
Eve jumped, and the builders at the next table, who glanced over, looked hurriedly away.
“Why does everyone treat me like a child?” Hannah wailed. “I’m so fed up of it. I’m grown up.”
Eve couldn’t suppress a smile. A dozen responses flooded her mind, but she kept them to herself. And anyway, she remembered the feeling. That powerlessness, the sense that everyone had a say in your life except you.
“Please tell me.” Hannah was staring at her, huge eyes wet and smudged with mascara where she’d angrily wiped away tears. Her bottom lip jutted, threatening a scene.
Eve looked from the girl’s face to her empty cup and back again. What did she have to lose? Nothing. She’d already lost the only thing that really mattered. Maybe Hannah should know. Maybe then Hannah would understand that it wasn’t her fault. Admittedly, if not for Hannah, Eve might well not have been in this mess, but the girl was thirteen. Thirteen and sad and confused and, so it seemed, sorry. Eve was the grown-up here, and she couldn’t bear to see Hannah carrying even more guilt and sorrow.
“OK,” she said, decision made. “I’ll tell you. But if I do, I’m telling you now, that will be it. Your dad will never forgive me.”
“It’s OK,” Hannah said, brightening instantly. “I won’t tell him. I promise.”
“All right, this goes back a bit. When I was about six years older than you I really fucked up at university…”
Hannah stared at her.
“Yes,” Eve said. “I know. Don’t swear.”
When Eve finished, Hannah’s eyes were even wider, but they were at least dry. Surprisingly, so were Eve’s. “So Dad didn’t want you to have the baby? That’s why you left?”
“In a nutshell, yes,” Eve said. “But don’t blame him. It’s not that black-and-white. It was an accident. We were careless. We didn’t think, and then…” The look on Hannah’s face made her smile. “Yes,” she said. “Grown-ups have those kind of accidents too, gross I know.”
Hannah grimaced.
“Ian…your dad…He wanted to wait, because he didn’t think it was the right time. And he was right. The timing was awful. It was far too soon for all of us. I mean, you and I weren’t even talking to each other.”
Sticking her finger into her cup, Hannah scraped the last remnants of chocolate from the rim. “Can I have another one?” she asked.
Eve nodded and signaled to the waitress before continuing.
“Dad didn’t think it would be a good idea to create any more problems, any more difficulties, for you and Sophie and Alfie, than me moving in had already created.”
Listening to herself argue Ian’s case, Eve wished it hadn’t taken his eldest daughter to make her see things his way. If she could have done it sooner, told Ian the truths she was now telling Hannah, maybe they’d still have been together. But then, if she had, maybe she and Hannah would still be passing each other on the stairs in silence.
It was a strange thought.
“All right,” Hannah said. “I think I get it.”
She nodded solemnly. Her blonde hair had fallen out of its clip and flopped forward, narrowly missing the chocolate dusting the fresh cappuccino that had just appeared in front of her.
“You wouldn’t agree because you didn’t want another abortion after the one you’d had at uni?” She said it matter-of-factly.
Eve winced. Somehow the words sounded worse coming from a thirteen-year-old’s mouth. Why had she done it, told Hannah her big secret when she hadn’t even told Ian? If Hannah told Ian now, Eve doubted he’d ever forgive her. Probably never even speak to her again.
“Why didn’t you just tell Dad?” Hannah asked, as if reading her mind.
“Good question.”
“Then why?”
“I’ve been asking myself that ever since. So has Clare, for that matter. She’s furious with me too. You remember Clare?”
“The woman who came to lunch?”
Yeah. Another day, another Hannah-related screwup. Eve wished she hadn’t brought it up. “Uh-huh.” That was as noncommittal as she could manage.
“The one with the cool daughter who hates me?”
“Hannah!” Eve was exasperated. “Her name’s Lou, and she doesn’t hate you…. OK, she doesn’t much like you now, but only because you didn’t give her a chance to do otherwise. Mind you, she’ll probably like you if I tell her you think she’s cool.”
Hannah shrugged, staring hard at the table. Eve grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “Now, you have to call your dad, he’ll be frantic.”
“One more thing.”
“A deal’s a deal.”
“Yes, but this is why I’ve really come.”
“You mean you didn’t come to ask me all that?” Eve frowned.
“No, well, not really. I mean, yes, I did. I wanted to, but I wasn’t sure I’d get to see you. When you came out of the building without me even having to go in, it seemed like too good a chance to miss.” Hannah smiled and slurped her cappuccino before licking off the chocolate mustache. “But I really came to give you this.”
Rummaging in her blazer pocket, she pulled out a folded square of lined paper torn from a pad and pushed it across the table, steering it around a puddle of milky coffee that had slopped onto the Formica.
“What is it?” Eve asked.
“A letter, obviously.”
The tone was a sarcastic one Eve recognized, but there was no malice.
“I can see that.”
“It’s from Alfie. He kept asking to call you, but Dad said not to bother you. He said we had to leave you alone. So I promised Alfie I’d find you.”
“This is why you skipped school?” Eve asked, unfolding the paper. Through blurring eyes she read the message scrawled in felt pen.
Dear Evie
On Saturday I am six. We are going to see snakes. Will you come? I miss you a lot.
Lots of love
Alfie
The rest of the sheet was covered in crosses. Kisses, swords, birds nose-diving to the bottom of the page, possibly Power Rangers’ weapons, but to Eve they looked like kiss
es.
When she looked up, Hannah was watching intently.
“I miss him too,” Eve said, giving up and swiping the back of her hand across her eyes. “I miss all of you so much.”
The look that crossed Hannah’s face was far older than her years. “Even me?”
Eve paused. There was no point lying, but the girl didn’t need to hear the truth either. “I don’t miss the fights. Do you?”
“A little.”
Eve was impressed. At her age she’d have lied to any grown-up who’d asked that.
“Alfie’s sad,” Hannah said finally. “He keeps asking for Evie. It’s doing my head in to be honest.” Tossing her hair out of her face, she looked more like the girl Eve had come to know and, sometimes, fear. “But it makes Dad cry, and I could so do without that.”
It makes…
“Oh, not in front of us,” Hannah added, catching a flash of something that crossed Eve’s face. “He wouldn’t do that. He thinks if he leaves the room I won’t see, but I’m not stupid.”
“No,” Eve said, her heart pounding in her chest. “I can see that.”
“So, I can tell Alfie you’ll come?” Hannah asked, downing the last of her cappuccino and flipping open her cell phone. “Please?”
Eve looked at her questioningly. “I’d love to see Alfie, but I don’t think I can. Your dad wouldn’t like it, would he?”
Hannah shrugged as she flicked through the preset numbers. “What’s it got to do with him?” she said. “It’s Alfie’s birthday. And Dad said Alfie can invite anyone he wants.”
Thirty-five
Trust Alfie to choose the reptile house for his birthday. He could have had penguins or elephants or monkeys or small furry rodents or even polar bears. But no, Alfie, being six and Alfie, had to have snakes.
It was two o’clock on a chilly almost-spring Saturday, and Eve had a serious case of déjà vu. OK, so bustling tourists crowding the streets of Soho had been replaced by bustling tourists crowding the penguins, but was it so different? She’d still spent two hours getting ready, arrived thirty minutes early, and agonized over what to buy. This time, though, she’d given up on books and gone straight for a Power Rangers vehicle. And there had been no guesswork involved. Having asked Alfie what he wanted, Hannah had texted Eve a list. Hannah had sent Eve a text. Several, in fact. Hannah’s cell phone popping up on her screen.
Now, that was surreal.
No, this time it wasn’t the children she was scared of seeing. It was Ian.
The small boy spotted her before she spotted him.
“Evie! Daddy, Daddy, it’s Eve,” he bellowed, losing all interest in the eating habits of the black mamba and hurtling toward her. Eve was so preoccupied with catching the knee-high blonde hurricane who launched himself through the air that she almost missed the mix of expressions that crossed his father’s face. Surprise, confusion, hurt…and, dare she hope, relief?
Well, that answered one question.
Hannah hadn’t told him she was coming. She hardly dared think what else Hannah might or might not have told him. But it was too late to worry about that now.
“Happy birthday, Alfie!” she said, swinging him up into a bear hug and instantly regretting it. How could he have grown so much? It had only been a month. “When did you get so big?”
Alfie looked at her as if she’d been an idiot. “I’m six now,” he said.
Eve grinned and hugged him tighter. Now that she had him, she wanted to turn and run, out of the zoo, away from anyone who might try to take him from her. Where had this come from, this feeling that had ambushed her the first time she’d met Alfie and had never left her? And why had it not happened with the others? She was fond of Sophie, hated the idea of never seeing her again, but Alfie was different.
“Hello, Eve.” Ian was standing beside them. “Come on, Alfie,” he said, prying Alfie’s arms from around Eve’s neck. “Let Eve breathe. You wouldn’t want to suffocate her on your birthday now, would you?”
“Come and see the black mambas. They eat rats and everything.”
“In a minute,” Ian said. “I need a word with Eve first.”
“You weren’t expecting me,” Eve said when Alfie ran back to a gaggle of small boys clustered around one of the glass cages. It wasn’t a question. It was obvious from the look on Ian’s face.
“Should I have been?”
Casting around for a slim blonde girl, Eve realized Hannah had made herself scarce.
“Erm, yes,” she blustered. “You see, Alfie invited me and I was, erm, told you knew. Well, not that he’d invited me. But that you’d be told I was coming. And I wasn’t going to come, but I wanted…” She stopped. What had she wanted? To see Alfie, yes, but not just that.
“And you believed that?” Ian looked amused.
Eve smiled. “Sucker, huh?”
“You’ve been had. We both have.”
“I wanted to see Alfie,” Eve said. It sounded pathetic even to her. True, but not the whole truth. She almost wished she hadn’t gotten her hopes up. Almost.
His eyes searching her face, looking for more, Ian nodded. “Ah, OK. Well, Alfie certainly wants to see you. Better come and be impressed by lots of limbless serial killers, then.”
If it weren’t for the awkwardness between Eve and Ian, and the fact that Hannah was speaking to her, after a fashion—something Ian could hardly fail to notice—it would have been like old times. But the awkwardness was undeniable.
After Hannah had called her father to say she was safe, Eve had put the girl in a taxi, paid the driver up-front and sent her back to Chiswick with a promise she wouldn’t tell her father what Eve had said. Any of it. Whether Hannah had kept that promise, Eve had no way of knowing, other than the fact that Ian was tolerating her presence. She very much doubted he would have if he’d known what she’d told Hannah. What she had told Hannah but not told him.
The party was over too soon. Small boys were collected by a succession of parents until only Ian’s children remained. As they walked to the car, Alfie swung happily between Ian and Eve like a human lightning rod. His little hot hand in hers sent a surge of emotion through her; it was the closest she could get to touching his father.
When they reached the Lexus, Ian buckled a protesting Alfie into the back and Hannah and Sophie squabbled for the front seat. As they did so, Eve stood aimlessly on the pavement waiting…For what, she wasn’t sure. It was getting dark now. She should head back to Clare’s. She had no plans, after all, other than getting under Clare and Lou’s feet.
“So,” she said, leaning into the car to give Alfie and Sophie a big kiss and waggling her fingers in farewell at Hannah over the back of the seat. “Thank you very much for having me, Alfie. I had a lovely time. I hope I’ll see you again soon.”
“Aren’t you coming home?” Alfie said.
Eve swallowed hard but not hard enough to stop the telltale prickle that threatened tears. “No, Alfie,” she said softly. “I’m afraid not. You’re going home with Daddy and Hannah and Sophie.”
“Then where are you going?”
“I’m going to see my friend Clare, the teacher.”
“And then you’re coming home?” His little eyes welled up and Eve turned away as hers came out in sympathy. She hadn’t known Ian was standing so close behind her.
“Give Eve a break, Alfie,” he said, pushing the Power Rangers vehicle Eve had given Alfie into his hand and slamming the door shut.
“Sorry,” Eve said. “The last thing I intended was to upset him.”
Ian looked at her evenly, his blue eyes sad. “It was bound to upset him,” he said. “He misses you.”
Eve stared hard at the pavement. The streetlight next to the car had come on, bathing their feet in an orange glow. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not very good at this. I miss him. More than I can tell you.”
“Can we talk?” Ian said suddenly.
“We are, aren’t we?” She hadn’t meant that to sound so abrupt. “I mean…I d
idn’t mean…”
“I know.” Ian smiled sadly. “I meant properly. Will you meet me tomorrow?”
“What about the kids?”
“I’ll bribe Inge. How does eleven thirty, Carluccio’s St. Christopher’s Place sound?”
Eve dragged her eyes from her feet and felt her stomach plummet as she met his.
“OK,” she said. “Yes. I’d like that…I’ll be there.”
Eve looked at her watch: eleven forty-eight.
Where was Ian?
It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t lain awake half the night working herself up into a frenzy. What if he said this? What if he said that? In all the what ifs had not been What if he doesn’t turn up? On top of which, if she hadn’t been half an hour early, she wouldn’t have read the Observer cover to cover and be on her third Americano. With forty-eight minutes’ worth of caffeine coursing through her veins she was practically vibrating with anxiety.
Eighteen minutes wasn’t even that late.
Not really. Except this was Ian, and Ian was never late. It was another of his kid-related things. If you said you’d be somewhere you had to be there when you said you would. She understood that. On more than one occasion she’d been the last kid in the playground waiting for her mom; and when you were five that kind of shame was close to unbearable. But she wasn’t a kid, she was a grown-up, and she could stand him being a little late. But still, this was Ian.
Eleven fifty-three. Close to half an hour now. The waiters were giving her looks, she knew. Every time the door opened she looked up; she couldn’t help it. Every time it wasn’t Ian, she looked down, dejected. What must they think of her?
She wasn’t at the wrong branch. She knew that because she’d called the other one.
“No, ma’am, there’s no one answering that description here,” the waiter had said on the phone. Face it, love, you’ve been stood up, she could hear him thinking. And who could blame him?
The waiter or Ian?
But no, Ian would never do anything that petty. That wasn’t his style. But then neither was being late.
When the door swung open again, Eve forced herself to keep her gaze firmly on the table. What was it her nan used to say about watched pots?
The Other Mothers' Club Page 34