by Fern Britton
She put her arm through Penny’s and smiled at her. Penny gave her a squeeze of acknowledgement. Helen looked over at Simon and caught his eye. He beamed at her and she gave him a wink. What a difference a year makes.
*
‘I’m starving,’ said Terri as they all returned to Gull’s Cry, stamping their cold feet on the kitchen flagstones.
‘Me too,’ said Penny, rubbing life back into her toes while warming them by the Aga. ‘Shall I rummage in the fridge?’
While the other women got busy assembling a feast of pork pie, cold ham, cold roast potatoes, salad, bread and cheese on the kitchen table, Sean and Helen sat talking quietly by the fire in the other room.
‘What did Dad buy you, Ma?’
‘I can’t remember.’
There was a silence. Then, ‘Yes, you can.’
‘Yes, I can. Let’s just say it was one of your father’s inappropriate jokes. OK?’
‘Supper’s ready, you two,’ Terri called from the kitchen.
‘Coming.’ Sean leant over and kissed Helen on the head. ‘Love you, Ma.’
‘Love you more.’
‘Not possible.’ They smiled as they remembered the old childhood game of words they used to play.
‘Sean?’
‘Yes, Mum?’
‘Do you love Terri? Properly, I mean?’
‘I think I do. Yes.’
‘Good. Then look after her, won’t you.’ She hugged him. ‘Come on, I’m starving.’
*
‘Simon’s a really decent man, isn’t he?’ said Penny, munching through a piece of pork pie and piccalilli.
‘Yes, he’s sweet,’ agreed Terri. ‘He certainly has a soft spot for you, Helen.’
‘We’re just friends, good friends. That’s all. What he needs is a nice young maiden who will adore him and give him the family he craves.’
‘Or an older woman who can show him the ropes!’ sniggered Sean.
Helen threw a spring onion at him.
‘Oh, do grow up,’ Chloe said crossly, scraping her chair back to get some fruit juice from the fridge.
‘It’s all right, darling. Sean’s teasing me. You are not about to get a stepfather of ANY kind. Let alone the vicar kind.’
‘It’s not that, I just think you should all stop being judgemental about Simon. He’s a human being, after all.’
‘Ooooo!’ sang Penny. ‘I think you lurve him, you want to maaarry him!’
This time it was Penny who got the spring onion in the face.
*
Later, when the dishwasher was whirring and they were all sprawled around the living room lit by fairy lights and firelight, Helen finished off another bottle of wine. Her head was gently foggy and her body felt light and relaxed. She was just starting to doze off when, to her delight, Penny, Sean and Terri started to make moves to go.
The snow was a good six or seven inches deep now and Penny was cadging a lift in the Jeep with Sean and Terri, rather than attempt the drive in her Jag.
They were all trooping out of the door, ready to brave the night when the phone rang.
Helen answered, ‘Hello?’ There was a pause, and the others listened, wondering who it could be at this time of night.
‘No, you cannot come down here, Gray. I don’t care if you are on your own.’ Another pause. ‘How dare you try to dump your emotional guilt on me!’ Helen was starting to shout. ‘Just piss off, Gray! Do not even ATTEMPT to come down here, because if you do, I’ll stuff your bloody Christmas present up your flabby arse! Happy Christmas.’ And she slammed the phone down. Four pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly.
‘Do you know what that pig gave me for Christmas? Shall I tell you? A vibrator!’
For the final time that day, Helen burst into tears. And after her friends had given her hugs, words of comfort and then quietly crept away, Chloe gently escorted her mother up the stairs to bed.
24
Boxing Day dawned. Chloe tiptoed into the bedroom with a tea tray, Marmite on toast and paracetamol. She opened the curtains and the flood of white light from the snow and frost outside burned into Helen’s sealed eyelids like an oxy-acetylene torch.
‘I am never going to drink again,’ Helen groaned.
‘Come on, Mum, I’ll help you sit up.’ Chloe plumped up Helen’s pillows, crossed the room to close the curtains halfway and then proffered Helen the contents of the tray. ‘I remember how you used to look after me when I was little. How quickly the roles reverse.’
‘Did I behave very badly?’
‘Not too badly … not as badly as Daddy.’
‘Did I badmouth him? I’m sorry, darling.’
‘I’m not a little girl any more, Mum. I realise my parents are fallible human beings.’
‘Selina has dumped him. How dare he assume he’d be welcome here! Stupid man.’
‘I think he’s too afraid to come now … knowing what you’ll do to him.’
Chloe got into bed next to her mum and held her hand.
‘Mum, I know he has behaved appallingly, but do you think you might ever forgive him?’
‘Forgive, maybe. Forget, never.’
‘You’re not properly divorced yet, are you?’
‘No. But I should get that finalised once and for all and apply for the decree absolute. I’ll do it in the new year.’
‘Do you have to?’
‘Yes, of course. Why?’
Chloe lay looking at her feet moving under the duvet.
‘Do you hope that Daddy and I will get back together?’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘It ain’t going to happen, Chloe.’ She saw the tears in her daughter’s eyes and felt her own eyes begin to swim too. ‘It just ain’t going to happen.’
*
Penny was treating them all to Boxing Day lunch at the Starfish. Terri’s Jeep was once again the only vehicle that would navigate the lanes safely, so Sean collected his mum and sister at midday.
As they walked into the reception hall of the hotel, Terri’s appreciative eyes took it all in. ‘Wow! What a place – and what a view!’ She walked over to the huge picture window overlooking the harbour and the open sea beyond.
Helen asked the receptionist to call Penny’s room and let her know they’d arrived. While they waited, they settled into the large squashy sofas grouped by the huge open fireplace.
An attractive, slender woman in her mid-sixties came towards them. ‘Hello, are you Miss Leighton’s party?’ They nodded in assent. ‘Welcome. Lovely to have you all at the Starfish. I am the owner, Louise Lonsdale.’ They all introduced themselves and found glasses of Buck’s Fizz materialising at Louise’s insistence.
‘Penny – Miss Leighton – has told me so much about you all and the television crew that she is bringing down from London. It sounds so exciting! And very good for the Starfish, too, so your lunch today is on the house. You may have seen our chef, Orlando Tavy, on Top of the Chops? An execrable television cookery show from which I rescued him, but it made his name, though he is far too talented for that rubbish. He’s doing a special tasting menu today and I’m sure you’ll like it. Ah, Penny, there you are. I was just getting to know your friends.’
Penny was sweeping down the stairs in long black boots and black lurex hot-pants, with swathes of cream chiffon around her top half. ‘Sorry I’m late. I’ve been on the phone to Dahlia Dahling’s agent. It’s not quite in the bag, but I think we may have just cast her as Mr Tibbs’ secretary sidekick. Very exciting! Keep your fingers crossed that we pull it off. Louise, darling, will you join us for lunch?’
‘Too busy, sadly. But go and enjoy! My treat.’ The two women air-kissed graciously and Louise hurried over to greet more newcomers.
‘She’s starstruck but bloody good at her job,’ Penny whispered to Helen. ‘By the way, how’s your head?’
‘Better after paracetamol and Buck’s Fizz,’ Helen replied.
‘That’s my girl.’ Penny turned to the wider group. ‘Come on,
everybody, let’s eat!’
Orlando Tavy’s taster menu ran to eight courses of minute but delicious dishes. Mostly local seafood cooked simply, and well worth the Michelin star he was hoping to get in the new year guide.
After a pudding of the lightest spotted dick with home-churned ice cream, the chef appeared in the dining room to glad-hand the guests. Helen watched him move round the room. He looked tired. His face was pasty and his skin had a slight sheen of sweat, which he mopped with the tea towel thrown over his shoulder. However, none of that could detract from his angelic blue eyes and the smattering of freckles across his perfect nose. He had a mop of blond curly hair kept off his face with a tortoiseshell hairband, and strong hands with well-shaped, spotlessly clean nails. Penny couldn’t take her eyes off him.
‘Isn’t he gorgeous.’ She leaned towards Helen conspiratorially.
‘Does he like the older woman?’ Helen judged him to be in his late thirties.
‘I hope so.’
Orlando approached their table and gave a charming bow to Penny, who practically licked her lips with desire.
‘Miss Leighton, we missed you for lunch yesterday, but how was it for you today?’
‘Delicious, thank you. May I introduce you to my best friend and her family.’
There followed a lot of handshakes and words of appreciation before Orlando turned to Penny and murmured something that no one else could hear. Penny blushed slightly and smiled into his eyes. ‘Is that so? Maybe we should discuss that further another time.’ He kissed her hand and moved off to another table.
‘Tell me what he said immediately,’ Helen demanded in Penny’s ear.
‘He said, “If madam would like a little extra on the side, she only has to call for room service.”’
‘He didn’t!’
‘He did.’
‘And would you?’
But before Penny could answer, Helen heard Chloe saying, ‘Daddy! What are you doing here?’
25
‘Hello, everyone.’ Gray stood across the table from Helen. The shock must have been clear on her face, because he quickly said, ‘Helen, forgive me for turning up when I know you asked me not to, but I really need to be with my family right now.’
He looked so lost and crushed that she couldn’t trust herself to speak, not knowing whether tears or vitriol were more likely to pour forth. Chloe salvaged the situation.
‘Daddy, I’ll get another chair. You’re too late for lunch, but let me get you a drink.’
He turned to her and cupped her face in his hands. ‘My darling daughter. What would I do without you? A large Scotch would be very reviving.’
As Chloe went in search of a chair, Gray threw himself into her empty seat. He put his elbows on the table and sank his head into his hands. He sighed deeply, then ran his fingers through his long, thick hair.
‘You look terrible,’ said Penny.
‘Cheers, Pen. You look gorgeous too,’ he answered.
Helen, who was scrutinising him closely for signs of play-acting, asked, ‘What’s happened?’
‘Sadly, Selina is a young woman who can’t shake off Mummy and Daddy’s apron strings, so she dumped me.’
‘You mean, once her parents found out she was sleeping with one of their own generation, they vetoed her plans for Christmas in Verbier.’
‘Elegantly put, Helen darling. Yes. I am humiliated and feel like an old fool.’
‘Which you are.’ Penny smiled without irony.
‘Thank you again, Pen darling.’ He reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief with which he wiped his eyes, and loudly blew his nose.
A waiter arrived with the extra chair. ‘Where do you want to sit, Daddy?’ asked Chloe. He looked across to Helen, ‘Next to Mummy, darling.’
Everyone, except Helen, shuffled their chairs to make space. When he was settled next to her, he took her hand and kissed it. ‘Sorry you didn’t like my present. It was a silly joke. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Happy Christmas.’
*
Helen couldn’t recall much of that afternoon. She seemed to be floating outside herself. Watching herself making conversation and smiling, noticing how happy Chloe and Sean seemed to be, seeing both their parents apparently comfortable in each other’s company.
Penny, reading her thoughts, decided that alcohol was the best way to get Helen through the afternoon.
Helen gratefully accepted a large brandy and stopped counting after the third. She was surprised when she found herself, along with everybody else, back at Gull’s Cry. Not long after that, Sean, Terri and Chloe set off for the Dolphin, saying they’d had enough of oldies, and Penny must have collected her car and gone back to the Starfish. Helen remembered going upstairs to the loo and thinking that she might have a little snooze. She washed her hands and teeth and went into her bedroom. The curtains were closed and in the gloom she could see that the bed was a mess. How did that happen? She thought she and Chloe had made it that morning, but she stepped out of her dress and pulled off her tights, hopping slightly to keep her balance. Then she slipped off her bra and pants.
‘How I’ve missed those stretch marks.’
Helen leapt with fright and saw the bedclothes moving. Now she could see an apparently naked Gray lying on her pillows, pulling back the covers for her to join him.
‘Come on, darling. No funny business. I just think two old mates need a hug. What do you say?’
Helen wondered what the correct response should be, but her brandy-addled brain couldn’t be bothered to find one. She got into bed and felt Gray’s arms around her. She turned into his body and let her fingers touch the hair on his chest. She couldn’t resist burying her nose in it and breathing in the deeply familiar smell.
‘Have you missed me as much as I miss you?’ he asked.
She didn’t bother speaking and within moments couldn’t have anyway because he was kissing her gently. Helen surrendered to his caresses; they both knew the moves so well, and soon he was making love to her in the old way.
Later on, as Helen slept, Gray heard the key in the front door. The tread on the stairs was light, and when Chloe quietly opened the bedroom door and breathed, ‘Mum? I’m home. How did it go with Dad?’ he answered for her: ‘Very well, thank you, darling. Mummy’s just having a little sleep.’
Chloe withdrew from the bedroom, and couldn’t resist a little smile as she retreated back down the stairs.
*
For the second time in as many days, Helen woke with the king daddy of all hangovers. She turned over slowly, wondering if Gray was still next to her. He was.
‘Hello, sexy.’ He stroked the dip between her hip and breast. ‘I’m glad you’re awake. I have to head back into town this afternoon and I’d hate to leave before you woke up.’
‘What?’ She struggled to sit up on her elbows.
‘Yes, I have to have drinks and supper with some mates. All very dull, but you know what it’s like.’
She stared at him, feeling a fool.
‘You’re going?’
‘Yes, darling.’
‘And what was last night about?’ A horrible sensation was filling her ribcage and boiling into her brain.
‘We’ve still got the old magic, haven’t we? And you’ve lost weight. It suits you.’ He wriggled up the bed towards her and attempted to kiss her neck. She pushed him away.
‘What did last night mean to you?’
‘It meant,’ he started nibbling again, ‘that we can be the most civilised divorced couple I know.’
Helen leapt out of bed as fast as her nausea would let her. ‘Get out, you bastard! What a bloody idiot I am, and what a bloody shit you are.’ She threw his clothes, folded so carefully on her small dressing-table chair, at him. ‘Put those on and piss off.’
Then she ran to her bathroom and slammed the door.
She looked at herself in the mirror over the sink. Her hair was a mess, there were dark circles under her eyes and her mouth tasted sour and dry.
‘You stupid cow,’ she said to her reflection. ‘You let him in again, and he almost got you. But not before discarding you like last night’s dirty dishcloth. You are a disgrace to womanhood.’
She remained there, sitting on the side of the bath until after a little while there was a gentle knock at the door. ‘Piss off back to some other poor cow, you arsehole, but leave me alone.’
‘Mum?’ It was Chloe. ‘Are you OK? Dad seemed a bit upset when he left. I was sleeping on the sofa and saw him go.’
‘Dad seemed a bit upset?’ Helen wrenched the door open and pushed past Chloe.
‘He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.’ Helen could hear the shrillness in her voice. ‘I have to go out to clear my head.’
She went into her bedroom and began pulling on tracksuit bottoms, T-shirt and a warm hoodie. ‘Don’t follow me, Chloe. I just need some space. See you later.’
And with that she ran downstairs and disappeared out of the front door.
*
Shellsand Bay was deserted apart from a couple of families with dogs and children enjoying the winter sunshine. But by the time she got to the water’s edge they were leaving. The beach was her own. Helen took a great lungful of air and tipped her face up to the sun. The gentle waves were lapping her wellingtons. Her brain hurt from alcohol, shame and the glare of the winter sun. A sudden surge of self-pity assaulted her and she was unable to stop herself breaking down into great gulping sobs with a river of tears flowing down her cheeks.
Her anguished crying was lost on the breeze with only the gulls to hear. At length, the ragged noises ceased and her headache grew worse. She was suddenly exhausted and felt terribly cold and alone. Turning to walk back up the beach, she saw a little Jack Russell running towards her with its owner striding closely behind.
‘Helen,’ Piran called, ‘are you all right?’ He was close now. ‘My God, you look terrible, woman. Here, put this on.’ He took off his long padded jacket and tried to wrap it round her.
‘Get off. I don’t need your help. I don’t need a man at all. You are all a bunch of shits. Laughing at me and taking me for a fool.’