by Carol Thomas
Abby put her book away in her drawer. Next to it were the giraffe and elephant Simon had made for her; she stroked her hand over them and picked up her cyan gemstone. Sometimes, when she was feeling low, she carried it with her. She wondered when the lion would follow. Her original set had consisted of all three; if Simon were replicating them there would be a lion too. She felt the urge to Google its symbolic meaning, knowing that would give her a clue as to when she could expect it. She looked at her laptop sitting in its case across the room. She knew it was silly but having had the idea she suddenly felt an overwhelming need to know. Convincing herself that she would stick strictly to that search, therefore not breaking her promise to herself to stop wasting her life with needless nights of Googling, she reached for the bag.
Turning on her laptop, Abby waited and then clicked on Safari. Smirking at the irony she went straight to Google and typed in lion imagery. As hundreds of sites listing images of lions appeared before her she tutted. Trying again, she typed in meaning of lions and rolled her eyes as Google instantly offered a literal meaning of the word – bugger! But then, below the obvious large, tawny-coloured cat that lives in prides were the words symbolism and the meaning of lions. Her curiosity was piqued. She clicked the site open and read, her eyes flicking to pertinent parts of the text: Renowned for their courage and faith… ultimate protectors of hearth and home.
Reading it, Abby knew why Simon had left the lion until last. She lacked the courage to accept him back and wasn’t yet ready to place her faith in him or their future together. With all that had happened she was protecting her hearth and home the only way she knew how. Not letting him back, guarding it, guarding herself. She stared at the screen. Is that what it was: self-preservation? Abby sighed. She wasn’t sure she would be getting the lion any time soon.
Looking at the clock, Abby squealed. She had left the brunette-and-red-berry-burst hair dye on a little too long. With just over a week to go it was all part of her preparation for Melissa’s wedding. Glancing in the mirror her eyes went wide; she looked pretty ridiculous and hoped the colour would be less vibrant once it was rinsed off. There was no way Melissa could complain this time. This was not a simple shade lighter; this was a colour change. With the dye, and a haircut she hoped to sneak in while Jessica had gym club and Grace was at nursery, she was aiming for a whole new look. Her fringe had grown, and with the addition of other layers she was excited to think that it might just start to blend in. While on a roll she had also made an appointment back at Prrrrimp Your Hide for the start of the summer holidays. Having tidy eyebrows (if she was brave enough on the day) and perfect nails felt fitting for Melissa’s wedding and she couldn’t deny she was more than a bit excited about being pampered too.
The shower looked like a massacre had occurred; Abby sincerely hoped her hair didn’t look like that too. Giving it a rub she moved a bit of the slightly stained towel and peeked in the mirror. Relieved at what she saw, she shrugged the towel off. Initial impressions were good. The light gave it a warm red glow, and she hadn’t gone ginger. That was a bonus. Deciding the ultimate test would be in the overall appearance once dry she headed for her bedroom.
Switching off the drier, Abby ran to get the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone; if it weren’t for Bramble’s incessant barking, threatening to wake the girls, she would have been tempted to ignore it. As she swung the door open, with a big “Shhh” to Bramble, she was surprised to see Simon.
“I got my text.”
Abby looked, not knowing what he was referring to.
“The text – when I didn’t hear from you about yours I panicked. God Abby, what did yours say?”
“Simon, I haven’t looked at my phone since lunch time, what are you on about?”
“Can I come in?”
Abby looked at his face; he was worried but she didn’t know what about. She stood back, opening the door wider, letting Bramble excitedly rub himself all over Simon’s legs as he stepped inside.
“Do you want a tea? Something stronger?” she revised, looking at his face.
“Abby, did you get a text from the clinic?”
Finally Abby realised what he was talking about. She had tried to push it to the back of her mind as the two week results’ deadline had come and gone, and now judging by the look on his face she shouldn’t be expecting good news.
“Si, I… I haven’t checked.” She felt light-headed; what was it going to say? Abby went to the living room and scrambled in her bag for her phone.
Simon stared at her. She felt his eyes burning into her back. She saw the missed message highlighted on the screen and scrolled with fumbling fingers to see what it said. Relief flooded through her. Everything was fine. All her tests were clear. She didn’t have anything. As she reread it and took a few breaths it suddenly occurred to her that Simon’s news couldn’t have been the same – he looked so scared.
“Simon, I’m all fine.”
The relief on his face was clear.
“And you? What were your results?”
“Clear too,” he announced.
“Christ, Simon, you scared me half to death! Why would you worry what mine said if yours were clear?”
“I was scared. Scared I might have passed something on to you. You know, like a carrier or something, and when I didn’t hear from you I panicked. I knew I’d been careful but all I could think was what if I had given you something? It would be my fault entirely and I couldn’t bear that. As dumb as it sounds, Abby, I never want to hurt you.”
Abby made an exasperated noise; his logic was infuriating but she was very happy to be able to put the whole clinic experience behind her. She hadn’t realised how much the late results had been weighing on her; she really felt quite giddy with relief. Moving forward. This was another step in the right direction.
She realised she could make more of it, make him suffer further, but he was clearly torturing himself with guilt. There wouldn’t be a lot of point in making him feel worse – she wasn’t sure she could. Also, she had been wondering if she had perhaps been a little over-the-top with the clinic visit. He had said they had been safe after all. It was a matter of trust. Hmm, well maybe it was justified after all then! She pushed the thought away.
“How about that drink then?”
Simon faltered, a little surprised. “What? I mean, what do you have?”
“Wine, martini, tea, Diet Coke, water?”
“Wine would be good, thanks.” The colour was returning to his cheeks.
Abby went into the living room, carrying the glasses. The sight of Simon on the sofa reminded her not to drink too much, and to definitely remain in her own seat. Having seemingly regained his senses Simon looked at Abby.
“Your hair.”
Abby touched her slightly damp hair. She had almost forgotten she had done it. Oh no, does it look bad?
“It really suits you.”
Oh good. Abby smiled and shrugged. “It’s a change.”
“It looks great.” He looked at her sincerely. “You look great.”
Abby decided to change the subject. She would really have to learn to start taking a compliment. “Actually, I’m glad you’re here.”
Simon looked a little too pleased to hear that.
“I need to know that you’re OK with the girls while I go to Melissa’s wedding.”
His smiling eyes grew jaded as he processed what she had said.
Abby was a little taken aback and sighed audibly; she thought he had moved on. “Si, I thought this was all OK with you now, that you enjoyed having them?”
“I did… I do.”
“Well your reaction suggests otherwise. Honestly, don’t worry; I’ll sort it with Mum or Kennedy.”
“No, I’ll have them, of course I will.”
“No, don’t worry—”
“Abby, it’s not them – of course I want the girls. I love having them. It’s just… you… the wedding…”
“What?” It came out harsher than she intended.
“I just don’t like the thought—”
“Don’t worry Si, I’m not going to be an emotional wreck. I’m pretty sure I can go to a wedding without dumping all of our issues onto the situation.” Actually I’m not sure of that at all but maybe if I say it enough…
“It’s not that. I mean, of course I’m worried about you and I want you to be OK and enjoy it. But, well, who else is going?”
“Honestly, I’ll be fine – about half the school are going. There’ll be plenty of people I know.”
Simon pushed his fingers through his hair, tension lifting his shoulders as he shifted in his seat. “What about him?”
“Who?”
“Him. Action Man.”
Abby couldn’t stifle her giggle. “Do you mean Brad?”
“Yes, I mean Brad.” He drew out his name with a sarcastic tone. “Is he going?”
“I guess so, we were all invited, as were you before… well, before everything.”
Simon let out a long breath. Abby watched the ticking muscle clenching at his jaw.
“I don’t like him.”
“I think you’ll find that might be mutual. But what does it matter? He’s not asking to be your friend and whether he is going or not should make no difference to you having the girls.”
“Friend?” Simon spat the word. “Do you think he just wants to be your friend?”
“Yes, he wants to be my friend.” We’ve made ducks and drakes, been out for cake and on the Twister together. Well, that sounded ridiculous even in her own head; thank God she didn’t say it out loud! What the hell would you make of that? “He’s been supportive.”
“Men like Brad don’t do supportive Abby. He wants you.” Anger flared in his eyes.
“You’re being ridiculous; we’ve worked in the same school for years. He never bothered you before.”
“He never wanted you before the way he does now… He knew you were mine.”
“Simon,” Abby looked at him, shocked, “it’s not the bloody Dark Ages. I am not some piece of meat to be owned.” She knew it was the right thing to say. But was it wrong that she slightly liked him going all caveman on her? It made her feel just a little bit tingly to see him all worked up and jealous. He might just beat his chest in a minute.
“Well I don’t like him.” He folded his arms decisively and raised an eyebrow.
“Well I didn’t ask you to.” Damn, no chest-beating after all.
Abby was aware she sounded like a petulant child and she did really want Simon to have the girls; organising her mum or Kennedy at this late stage would be difficult. She decided to tone the conversation down and to try a touch of honesty. “Simon, I am not going because Brad will be there, I am going to see my friend Melissa get married. She’s been… she’s been… well, a great friend to me over recent months and to be honest I don’t know what I’d have done without her. I want to see her get married.”
Simon couldn’t really argue with that. He wasn’t happy, but the tears that had welled in Abby’s eyes as she spoke made his chest ache.
“Of course I’ll have them.” He reached across and stroked Abby’s hand.
Abby smiled and moved to pick up her wine. She drank it in, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Grateful that he’d agreed to have the girls Abby added encouragingly, “Rachel said she’d stop by and help out.”
Simon faltered. “Oh… did she?”
It wasn’t quite the reaction she’d expected. He took a drink of his wine to release the tension building once more in his jaw.
“I thought you’d like her help. You can have some catch-up time before she’s off again.”
“Yeah, of course. That’ll be great.”
“Well don’t sound too excited. What is it with you two? Normally I can’t keep you apart.”
Simon pushed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess…”
“What is it?”
Simon hesitated. “Just the thought of sharing my time with the girls. I like having them.”
“I can ask her not to come.”
“No, honestly, it’s OK. Everything’s fine.”
Not entirely convinced everything was OK, Abby smiled. Some time together might actually help Simon and Rachel sort out whatever their issue was. “Good, it’s all sorted then.”
29
Abby felt good. She had emailed Mallory, asking if they could make their break a little longer. She felt she was holding herself together well, she was using her book and she was feeling optimistic about going to Melissa’s wedding. If she needed Mallory afterwards she would be there and that alone gave Abby the reassurance she needed. She was actually proud of the way she had coped in Mallory’s absence and she was beginning to believe that simply talking about her issues was never actually going to solve them: she wanted to be living, not procrastinating. She knew Mallory had pretty much told her that when they last met but she had to come to her own realisation in order to fully heed her good advice.
The summer holidays were underway. Abby loved that holiday feeling: no more working (at least not until she started her planning anyway), no more school runs to do, packed lunches to make, uniforms to iron or clubs to get to. The weeks stretched out before her, blissfully long and, with the exception of Melissa’s wedding, blissfully empty. It was time to relax. She smiled to herself, thinking how nice it was to look forward to a lack of routine – a while ago that would have terrified her. Now it felt like an opportunity; for what, she didn’t know but even that felt a bit exciting.
Abby looked at her open suitcase on the bed and back to the mirror. She mentally went through the list of things she had determined to achieve before Melissa’s wedding: losing weight (Abby ran her hand around her waist: check), a new hairdo (she fluffed up her new layers: check), a whole new wardrobe (she glanced at her open wardrobe: hmm, well some new clothes and a perfect outfit for the wedding, check), saucy underwear (oh yes, check!). She smiled, not bad! And just to boost her self-esteem a little more she gave her expertly shaped eyebrows a run over with her perfectly painted fingernail. With Lucy brimming with excitement about her cousin’s wedding she had insisted on giving Abby personal service so that she could talk at her about the coming celebrations. It didn’t make for quite the relaxing trip to the salon Abby had hoped for; she was really trying not to overthink the wedding, but there was no denying that she was very happy with the results of the appointment.
Abby put on a t-shirt and the navy floral tube skirt she had bought with Melissa, smiling when she realised that it fitted her even better now she had lost a few more pounds. She knew she ought to donate some of her bigger clothes to charity but she didn’t quite feel as if she owned her new size enough to let them go just yet. Perhaps she should get one of those plastic storage boxes and stash them under the bed, just in case they were ever needed again. Thinking how Melissa would scorn the idea, she dismissed the thought straight away; they will most certainly not be needed again!
“You look pretty Mummy.” Jessica ran from the door and leapt onto Abby’s bed, instantly fiddling with things in her suitcase.
“Thank you sweetie, so do you!” Abby beamed. A compliment from her gorgeous girly she could take.
“Can I paint my nails?”
“Not right now.”
“Can I have red hair too… like Merida?”
Abby giggled. “Yikes, do I look like Merida?”
“No, your hair’s too…” Jessica screwed up her nose, “flat.”
Thank goodness for that.
“Can Daddy paint my hair red?”
“I don’t think Daddy will be up for that this weekend but I’m sure you’ll do lots of other nice things.”
“Can we come to the wedding? I could wear these?” Jessica cheekily took Abby’s pair of red glitter courts, with the slim three-inch heel, out of her case.
In a moment of madness Abby had bought them to surprise Melissa and had been attempting to get used to walking in them around the house ever since. She had
backup wedges ready, as a precaution.
“How about I go to the wedding and wear these,” Abby took the shoes from Jessica, “and when I come back we go and buy you some new sandals?”
Jessica grinned. “OK! And paint my hair?”
“Just sandals, and maybe we’ll paint your nails… deal?”
Abby held her little finger out to Jessica, who linked hers around it, sealing the deal with a pinky promise. “Deal!”
“Me too, me too!” Grace bounced in from the door.
Jessica rolled her eyes.
“Yes sweetie, you too!” Abby scooped Grace up, giving Jessica a ‘humour your sister’ look.
Suddenly feeling a bit of pang in her chest at the thought of being totally alone at the wedding and how much she would miss the girls, she grabbed Jessica too and gave them an extra squeeze, causing them both to laugh. Obviously feeling thoroughly jealous Bramble decided to get in on the action and rubbed himself in between and through their legs, dipping his head and barking in half-playful gestures, making them all laugh. Silly old dog!
By the time Abby was all packed, had said her goodbyes and managed to convince Simon to actually let her get out the door she felt a bit deflated at the thought of the journey ahead. She had declined a lift from Brad, feeling that it wouldn’t have gone down terribly well. Now she was driving herself. It wasn’t what she deemed a relaxing start to the weekend but she had decided to wait until seven pm to give the Friday night traffic time to ease and it was a nice clear evening; hopefully the M27 and A34 would be kind to her. She had a bottle of Diet Coke, some fruit pastilles, a few of her favourite CDs and her trusty satnav, nicknamed Sally by the girls, for company.
About to start the ignition she remembered to text her mum, fulfilling half of a promise to let her know when she was leaving and when she arrived safely. As she wouldn’t be seeing her until the actual wedding ceremony she also decided to text Melissa to let her know she was thinking of her.