‘Wow,’ said Simon, settling back in his chair and feeling more relaxed than he had for years. He stuffed a large forkful of coffee and walnut cake into his mouth and chewed it with gusto.
‘That’s all great,’ he said, after he’d swallowed and was going in for some more, ‘but there is still one more “but” …’
‘Go on,’ said Joy, refilling her tea cup.
‘As well as having a mahoosive soppy crush on Rachel, I also love working with her. She’s brilliant at what we do. She’s the only person I’ve ever worked with who thinks exactly as I do about business, and I’m worried that if we started having a romantic thing …’
He paused and allowed himself a moment’s pure pleasure at the idea of it.
‘… it would be awkward to work with her as well. To be completely honest with you, Joy, I’ve decided to downsize my company into something more streamlined and modern, and an ideal scenario would be a simple business partnership between me and Rachel. Just the two of us.’
‘But that’s perfect,’ said Joy. ‘Rachel lives for her work – and her kids – but apart from them, she defines herself by work, so to combine it with a relationship would be her ideal scenario.’
Simon looked at her, wide-eyed. It was his perfect scenario too. Why had he never thought of that?
Joy put her hand over his again. The tension was gone. Finally, he’d released it. Then she looked at him across the café table, wishing she could see his aura again, as she had that time at Tessa’s – she was sure it would be whole, that nasty black dent gone – but there was nothing.
It wasn’t something you could force, she should have known better than to try, but while she might not be able to turn on such otherworldly insights to order, Joy could plainly see Simon’s handsome face glowing with relief at having unburdened himself, and excitement at what lay ahead.
She put her hand up to his shoulder and pulled him towards her.
‘Come here, you dear thing,’ she said and kissed him warmly on the cheek. ‘And now go. You have important things to do. Go and do them with my blessing.’
Simon beamed at her and after pulling out a £20 note, which he put on the table, tucking it under the edge of his saucer, he got up.
‘Thank you, Joy,’ he said, ‘for everything.’
Then after checking she was OK to get on to wherever she was going next, with her stick, he hugged her and practically ran out of the café.
Joy sat at the table smiling to herself. She probably looked like a nutter, but she couldn’t help herself, his hurry to get off – no doubt to his office and Rachel – was so adorable. She hoped to hear from him soon to say she could let Tessa know the good news. The sooner the better.
She ordered some more hot water for her mint tea and sat for a moment just enjoying the contentment of imagining Rachel and Simon together. It was so right and the girls would love it. He was just the man her spirited middle daughter needed.
There would be occasional fireworks, Joy could picture that, but only in a work context, and the other side of their relationship would help them get over it very quickly. The combined work and domestic life would suit them, just as it did Tessa and Tom. They’d be a dynamic combination in every regard. Simon would keep Rachel tested, and she’d never be bored with him. What a happy outcome.
There was so much to be grateful for, thought Joy. Tessa and Tom reunited in every part of their lives. Natasha and Mattie so happy together and helping Rachel out with the kids. And now this new partnership on its way, Rachel and Simon bound together in love and work, which she was also happy to think would help get Rachel out of her financial crisis. All was good with her family.
Namaste.
But now she had to find the courage to get up from this chair and walk around the corner and into the British Museum to meet that other member of it.
The one she had abandoned so long ago, as a tiny baby, and had never tried to contact since, for fear of unsettling what she hoped was the wonderful life he was having without her. She’d only ever wanted what was best for him and, in 1959, life with a nineteen-year-old single mother was definitely not a desirable upbringing.
For fear of going mad with grief and longing, over all those long years, especially once she’d had more children and knew just how strong the bonds became, she’d found a way not to allow herself to think about him consciously, in the front of her brain.
It was one of the things that had made her become so committed to meditation. At times when she thought she just couldn’t stand the pain of wondering about him another moment, she’d learned how to take herself to a place of calm and get her anguished thoughts back in a manageable order.
But even when she’d mastered that skill, he’d always been there, deep down in her heart. His birthday had never gone unacknowledged by her, even if it was only to light a candle privately and say a prayer for him, wherever he was.
Once the law was changed and it had become possible for the birth parents of adopted children to try to make contact with them, once they were adults, she had wondered many times whether she dared to do it.
But the craving for contact was always outweighed by a dread fear of the outcome. What if he rejected her? What if he was hurt and angry with her for giving him up, like an unwanted gift? Then she would have to live with the knowledge of that, as well as the memory of his tiny perfect face. She didn’t have the courage to risk it.
Over and over again, for fifty-five years, Joy had reminded herself to leave the past where it was. Nothing good could come of disturbing it, she’d told herself, only the risk of further pain. Living in the moment had become an essential survival mechanism for her, which was why she’d been so disturbed by those mysterious letters, addressed to her historic name, which could only have been something to do with the past.
Her first thought had been that they were to notify her of his death. If that was the reason for them, she didn’t want to know. It wasn’t until she’d recognised the contact agency’s logo on the envelope of the last one that she’d dared to open it and read the contents. Her son wanted to contact her.
Joy sat staring down at her tea cup, marvelling at the turns of fate which had led her to be sitting in that café, conveniently close to the British Museum where she was about to go and be reunited with her adult son.
If her friend hadn’t been late to meet her at the café and if she hadn’t flicked through the newspaper and seen the article about the people-finding agency, she would have destroyed that letter unread, as she had all the others.
She sent up a prayer of thanks that she’d been given this opportunity – and another asking for it to be blessed.
It took all Simon’s self-control not to shout at the taxi driver to hurry up. It was already twenty to two and Rachel would have to leave at three to collect the girls. The conversation he needed to have with her couldn’t be rushed and he really wanted to have it in that café. Their café. It just felt right.
He stared out of the window as they drove along Oxford Street, not seeing anything, one leg crossed over the other knee, his foot jiggling frantically. But if they were going to go to the café, they’d have to walk there from the office wasting valuable time and what would he talk to her about until they got there? He thought making another moment’s self-monitored polite conversation with Rachel might actually kill him.
Maybe he should text her and ask her to meet him at the café? That might be better. He got his phone out and tried to find the right words, but couldn’t even get past the opener.
‘Hey, Rachel …’
‘Hi, Rachel …’
‘Rachel …’
‘Howdy …’
‘Got time for a quick coffee …?’
‘Fancy a coffee …?’
‘I have some things I need to discuss with you …’
Delete, delete, delete, they all sounded wrong. He was still trying to get the tone of it right when the taxi stopped, they were already in Sydney Street. Bloody hell.
He paid the driver and walked up the steps of the building to the door. He was about to press the buzzer, then he stopped. What was he going to do? Walk into her office and say something as stupid as those texts? Howdy pardner! Fancy a lil’ ol’ coffee?
Looking down at his phone he had a better idea and opened his favourites list. He tapped her name and lifted the phone to his ear. She answered immediately.
‘Simon?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I’m, er, would you … look, can you just come downstairs and out of the building please? I’ll explain when I see you.’
‘OK,’ she said, sounding surprised and rang off.
Rachel looked down at her phone. Come out of the building? Whatever did he mean? Oh well, at least she’d get to see him. It seemed like so long since last Thursday night and he hadn’t been into the office yet today either. What on earth was going on with him?
She glanced at her handbag, wondering if she should comb her hair quickly and put some lipstick on, but decided to forget about it. She was too curious to find out what he was up to.
Rachel opened the front door onto Sydney Street to see Simon pacing up and down on the pavement. He turned and looked at her, a big smile on his face. She walked down the steps slowly, looking at him.
‘You rang, sir?’ she said.
Simon put out his hand and took hers, pulling her to him, then he wrapped his arms around her and after looking down at her face for one more moment, just to be sure she didn’t have a horrified expression on it, he finally put his lips on hers. Rachel forgot everything.
Neither of them knew how long they stayed there, locked in that first kiss. Finally they pulled apart and looked at each other, both grinning.
‘I thought you’d never do it,’ said Rachel.
‘It’s nearly killed me not to,’ he said.
‘Can you do it again then, just to be sure?’ said Rachel – and he did.
As they separated that time, something made Simon look up and he saw three of his sillier staff members leaning out of a first-floor window watching them.
‘Enjoying the show, girls?’ he called up to them.
‘We sure are,’ said one of them. ‘It’s about bloody time. We’ve all known you two were mad about each other for ages.’
Simon and Rachel looked at each other, incredulous.
‘Did you know?’ said Simon.
‘Not until very recently,’ said Rachel.
‘Go back to your desks,’ he called up to the women, who now seemed to have been joined by the entire staff. ‘There’s nothing more to see here. In fact, go home, all of you. I’m declaring today a national holiday.’
There was a loud whoop, followed by a crash as the window closed.
‘I wish we could go somewhere private and talk about all this,’ he said, raising his hand to Rachel’s face, running his knuckle very gently down the line of her jaw and then tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her head and kissed his hand, then reached up and grasped it with her own, pressing it into her neck.
‘But I know you’ve got to go and pick up the girls soon,’ he continued. ‘I could take you there actually.’
‘I don’t have to go anywhere,’ said Rachel, pressing herself against him and pulling his arms back around her. ‘I’ve got some very good childcare set up now. We’ve got all the time in the world.’
Wednesday, 24 December
Cranbrook
Simon was standing at the top of a ladder trying to attach a filthy old doll, with a skew-whiff tinsel halo, to the top of a very tall Christmas tree, with a piece of string. Daisy and Ariadne were giving him directions.
‘She still looks drunk,’ said Daisy.
‘She’s falling down,’ said Ariadne. ‘Make her straighter. She’s going to fall off.’
‘I think I’m going to fall off,’ said Simon. ‘It’s not very easy from this angle. I can’t get close enough to do it properly and the branches keep going up my nose. Can you ask your mother to cut the bottom three feet of branches off this flipping tree?’
‘Mummy’s busy,’ said Daisy.
Simon looked over to where Rachel, Natasha and Tessa were all intently absorbed taking pictures of him trying to attach the Christmas angel to the tree, while the two girls eagerly looked up at him.
‘Am I going to look very quaint on Instagram?’ he called over to them. ‘Perhaps you’d like me to put on a Santa suit? I’m sure Tessa’s got a filthy old vintage one in a shed somewhere … and perhaps you’d like to dress the girls up as angels, too, just to make it a little more hokey.’
‘Stop being such an old humbug,’ said Rachel, coming over to the tree. ‘Get down from there and I’ll do it. I’ve been putting that fairy up for years.’
‘Oh, it’s a fairy now, is it?’ said Simon, climbing down to ground level, handing the doll to Rachel and looking at his hands with distaste. ‘I thought it was an angel. Whatever it is, it needs a bath. It’s putrid.’
Rachel giggled and put her arms around him.
‘Ebenezer OCD,’ she said, ‘if I didn’t know how much you are enjoying this really, I’d think you were a miserable old git.’
‘Ah, that’s better,’ he said, pulling her closer and nuzzling her ear, ‘I can wipe my hands on your dress.’
Joy arrived at the drawing room door, pushing Simon’s brother in his wheelchair, his head and limbs supported, various tubes and bags accommodated on special holders.
‘I thought Rob would like to see the tree,’ she said. ‘Oh, you haven’t got the fairy on top, yet …’
‘That’s because I’m useless,’ said Simon, smiling at her and blinking a few times to push back what felt dangerously like tears coming into his eyes. Tears of gratitude for being there. With the woman he loved, her children, her family – and also his own family.
He could hear his father’s laugh coming from the kitchen. A sound he had once thought he’d never hear again, but since he’d taken Rachel home to meet them and then, a few weekends later, gone back with the girls as well, a lot had changed.
Not just the tonic of children’s laughter in that desolate house again, but he’d seen his parents’ delight and relief that he’d finally done something for himself after all those years. That had been a revelation and now Simon understood that one of the reasons his father had been so angry with him was that he’d thought he was wasting the life he still had, when his brothers’ had been so cruelly taken away.
‘Your father and Tom are having great larks stuffing the turkey,’ said Joy. ‘It seems to involve drinking a lot of port, which is all fine by me, as my best Christmas present this year will be not having to touch the poor thing.’
Simon laughed and leaned down to make eye contact with his brother.
‘Come on, Rob,’ he said. ‘I’ll push you nearer the fire, so you can stay warm while you watch Joy, Rachel and the girls make a much better job of decorating the tree than I could.’
The small change of expression in his brother’s eyes told Simon that Rob had understood him, and was amused.
Finn and Mattie came into the room and Tessa shrieked when she saw that her oldest son now had a wide streak of bright blue hair at the front of his messy black mop.
Natasha turned to see what had made Tessa squeal and immediately brought her phone up to take a picture.
‘Make sure you get my good side, Auntie Tash,’ said Finn, doing a twirl. ‘What do you think?’
‘It looks awesome,’ said Natasha, moving back a little to get Mattie in the frame as well.
‘Do you like it, Mum?’ asked Finn.
‘I, er, it’s such a surprise,’ said Tessa. ‘Did you do it, Mattie?’
Mattie looked at Finn.
‘You little rat,’ she said. ‘You didn’t ask her, did you? And you promised me you had.’
Finn brought his hand up to his mouth and made a fake shocked face.
‘Oh, no, it just slipped my mind, Mattie,’ he said, ‘I was going
to ask her but then something distracted me.’
‘I’m really sorry, Tessa,’ said Mattie. ‘He told me he had your permission to do this – I never would have done it without checking it was OK with you first.’
Tessa shook her head, laughing.
‘Don’t worry, Mattie,’ she said, ‘we’re used to Finn’s little ways.’
She came over and studied her son’s face, pushing the lock of blue hair over a little to reveal his right eye.
‘I actually think it really suits him. Brings out the blue of his eyes. Sorry, Finn, I’m sure you’re disappointed, but I don’t hate it.’
‘Don’t worry, Finn, mate,’ said Simon, coming over, ‘my father will hate it for everyone.’
Natasha had moved back a little further still taking pictures, now getting Daisy and Ariadne into the composition, Rachel up the ladder fixing the fairy to the top of the tree. She let the hand holding the phone drop down and looked at the scene with her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she reached over and put her hand on Simon’s arm.
‘Can you do me a favour, Simon?’ she said. ‘I’ve had an idea. Keep everyone here for me.’
She left the room and a few moments later, Tom and Simon’s father came in.
‘Natasha’s given us orders to be present and correct in here, that’s right isn’t it, Harry?’ said Tom, and Harry Rathbone agreed.
Simon observed the scene, still in a state of wonder that it was possible. The old man looked perfectly relaxed and only laughed and said ‘Good Lord!’ when Finn came over to ask him what he thought of his hair.
‘And she says you’ve got to stay up there, Rachel, OK?’ added Tom.
‘Yessir,’ she replied, saluting rather too enthusiastically and quickly grabbing the top of the ladder, when she nearly lost her balance.
‘Whatever do you think she’s up to?’ Joy asked Mattie, as the two of them headed over towards the fire to sit with Rob.
‘Tell me if you’re getting too warm,’ said Mattie, then quickly corrected herself, leaning in so she could see his face and he could see hers. ‘Are you too warm, Rob?’
Secret Keeping for Beginners Page 39