by Carmen Reid
Deep breath.
'OK, everyone,' she summoned her band. 'Off we go.'
As soon as they walked through the door, Dennis waved with a casual-sounding 'Over here,' and stood up as they got closer.
The three women sitting around him got up too and the two groups faced each other, Eve feeling dangerously unbalanced with a suddenly shy Robbie pressed hard against the back of her knees.
Dennis did the introductions and there was a flurry of handshakes.
'This is my wife, Susan,' Dennis was saying now. 'My daughters, Sarah and Louisa. Anna, hello, I'm Dennis and this must be Robbie ... hi there.'
Eve was shaking hands with the women now – Susan, a well-padded helmet bob blonde in stiff lilac with pearls constraining her neck. Why did Eve have the feeling she'd seen her before? She was in her late forties at least. Older – that was a surprise to Eve.
But it was the girls she was shaking hands with now.
They were so adult, in lipgloss, low cut tops, tight jeans. Was this how quickly girls grew up in the States?
'Gosh, you're so grown-up!' she couldn't help telling the older one – who was it again? – Sarah.
'Well, I am about to turn 16—' This said with an undoubtedly teenage defiance.
Dennis heard his daughter's words and glanced at Eve, who was flushing up with an emotion he took to be shock, even as she turned to the younger girl to shake hands. Sixteen! she was screaming in her head as she managed 'Hello, nice to meet you', to Louisa.
Sixteen. Wasn't Sarah just exactly the age her lost baby would have been?
Sixteen. Didn't that mean this girl was already on the way when Dennis left?
Sixteen. So Susan was pregnant when Dennis left Eve?
Susan? Susan? Her mind was like some demented search engine racing through data all on its own and ping! Up came the answer. Susan Mitchell, the financial director of one of Dennis's favourite clients . . . Well, that's what she was back then. Eve looked over at the blond helmet head and couldn't believe she hadn't recognized her straight away. Why was Susan pretending not to know her? This was completely bizarre.
'Hmmm?' Louisa was looking at her as though she expected an answer.
'How old is your little girl?' Louisa repeated.
'Oh . . . Anna, she's nine, going on nineteen. Come and say hello.'
Denny and Tom were chatting to Dennis and Susan. They were laughing, sounding polite, interested. This was not the moment to ask about her ex-husband's infidelity with his current wife.
She put her fingers up to her burning cheeks and felt tears forming at the back of her eyes. Fuck him though. Why hadn't he told her this before? Why had he left her to figure it out and muddle through the shock?
She knelt down to speak to Robbie, who was still clinging like a limpet to her legs. She hoped to stay down there for a few minutes, until she could pull herself together to deal with this.
'Hi, are you OK?' she asked her son.
'I don't like that man,' he said.
'Which man?'
'That old man—' he pointed at Dennis. It was almost impossible to hide any emotion at all from a small child. They had in-built radar for this kind of thing.
She wasn't going to ask why, but Robbie blurted his reasons out anyway: 'He looks like the Fat Controller and he makes me sad.'
'What can I get you to drink?' Dennis tapped her on the shoulder.
'Go away! You fat man,' Robbie yelled at him.
'Errrrrrr ... Robbie, stop that.' She wanted to laugh- and cry. This was appalling. Why did she feel as if her life, the one she'd carefully constructed for herself over the past sixteen years, was falling apart? Why the hell did Dennis still have this effect on her? Like he was always able to be the one in control? The one who could wind her, wound her, still pull the rug out from underneath her? Fuck, this still hurt. All those days, long evenings, even longer nights waiting for him to call, come home, get in touch. All the tears she had shed for him, for the baby she should have had fifteen, sixteen years ago now. It felt as if it was all opening up again. FUCK. Like a seam, ping, ping, ping, she could almost hear the stitches.
'I think a drink would help.' Dennis's voice now.
'Maybe several... maybe you could line them up along the bar for me.' She tried to sound breezy but he knew she knew, had worked it out.
'We'll have to talk all about this some time. I should have given you a better explanation.'
'Aha,' she agreed.
'Go away,' Robbie ordered again. Then to Eve and Dennis's surprise, he sank his teeth into Dennis's thigh.
'Ouch!' Dennis said quite loudly. No wonder. It bloody hurt when Robbie bit you.
'Robbie!' Eve admonished him. She knelt down beside him again, feeling flushed and horribly embarrassed.
'I don't like him!' Robbie yelled, then smacked her quite suddenly in the face.
'Robbie, NO.' Wasn't it fun being part of the transition generation? She thought, not for the first time in her life, we are the people who get hit by our parents and our children.
Robbie burst into noisy tears, but fortunately Tom was there and whisked his little brother outside before it all became a hideous scene.
And somehow they stumbled on through it. Eve making small talk with Susan, both of them pretending not to recognize each other. Talking about the States and how much London had changed.
Denny and Dennis talking about the States and how much London had changed, as far as she could gather from the snatches she overheard, and the girls in a little huddle. When Eve passed her daughter, long blond ponytail bobbing animatedly, she thought how sweet Anna looked trying to fit in with the big girls and she couldn't help tuning in.
'You've been in rehab? Cool. I got some therapy when my mum and dad split up, but rehab? You actually got to stay there, full time. Cool. I want to be a psychiatrist when I grow up,' Anna was saying.
Oh God, this was terrifying.
Walking back towards this weird family grouping, she saw Dennis put his arm round Susan's waist to give her a reassuring squeeze and Susan turned to smile at him. Just a tiny thing, it surprised her. Up until now, she thought she'd have to feel sorry for anyone with the misfortune to be married to Dennis, but when she caught that little moment, she knew they were actually in love. Well, wasn't that one of life's little ironies? Dennis the deserter was the one who'd ended up in a long and happy marriage. She'd never wanted to be like her dad, a long-term single, settling into her own eccentric little groove. But that was exactly where she was headed. Even Dennis had someone who loved him. Wasn't she worthy of that? Oh hell . . . she swirled the ice round her glass . . . two gin and tonics and I'm a bloody wreck.
When Dennis suggested dinner in the hotel's restaurant, she told him no, it wasn't suitable, she wanted to go somewhere more relaxed, nearby, and she'd already made the reservation.
That surprised him – and her. But she'd made a resolution earlier that day that she was not going to let him push her about. He was only here for a short time, but too bad. She was her own person, nothing to do with him any more.
At the restaurant, she felt like an observer, rather than one of the group taking part in this odd event.
She watched her sons, eagerly polite and curious about Dennis. And saw how even Anna wasn't impressed with how sulky and sullen the teen daughters were being to their parents. Fortunately Robbie was given a balloon. He didn't worry about how anyone was interacting with anyone else, he simply ran about making train noises until he was so exhausted, he fell asleep on Eve's lap.
Eve focused on her little girl, so ladylike, so wishing she was a grown-up and yet so nine-ish at the same time.
She watched her unfold the napkin, put it across her lap and eat her pasta elegantly with a fork and spoon, wiping her lips whenever the pink sauce strayed.
The American girls stuck gum to their side plates before eating and whispered conspiratorially before trotting off to the toilets together. Rehab or not, Anna was less and less impressed with them.
And Dennis was starting to bray now: 'Well, I'm hoping to send the girls to medical school. If they ever open a book and think about passing an exam, that is.' On cue, the girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes. 'Only way to make money in the States, as far as I can tell,' Dennis continued. 'Doctors ...' Blah, blah, Eve tried not to listen.
'Are you OK?' she asked Anna.
'Yeah, fine,' Anna answered. 'It's all very interesting,' she added in a whisper.
'Aha.'
'It'll never be like this with my dad though, will it?' she asked now.
'You mean, not see him for years and years? No, sweetpea, your dad and I are friends and we both love you very much.'
'I think Daddy's still in love with you,' Anna said matter-of-factly, pushing another forkful into her mouth.
'What makes you think that this time?' Eve asked with a smile.
'Because I could tell he was really sad when you came back from Grandpa's and it was time for him to go home.'
'Ah ha.'
'And I told him you always slept in his old pyjamas and he said that was sweet.'
'I don't sleep in his pyjamas!'
'I know, but I just wondered what his reaction would be.'
'Anna!'
'And Michelle makes him very grumpy. We never have a laugh when she's around.'
'Ah ha.' This she could believe, but she didn't think it had anything to do with him being in love with her.
'And . . .' Anna was getting ready for the big one now: "There's a picture of you in a little frame hidden under the jumpers in his cupboard.' Never mind that Anna had put it there, her dad had never removed it, she'd checked every time she went up.
'Well. . . that's very nice,' Eve said. 'But you really shouldn't be looking through Daddy's cupboards and as I said, we're good friends, Anna, and we both love you, that's the main thing.'
After that, Eve tried to carry on eating and behaving normally, but it was no use. I am so pathetic, she told herself. 'Why is my heart pounding like a teenager's over a photo in his jumper pile? I am a pathetic, sad and lonely old bag, I really need to get a life. I need to go out with the vet immediately. And why do I keep calling him "the vet"? Nils ... Nils.' Thoughts of Nils ... Did they help?'
When they got home, there were about eight messages on the answering machine from Jen.
'For God's sake woman ... I don't care how late it is, get your children into bed, pour yourself another glass of wine and phone me back. I want to know all about it.'
'How are you feeling?' Jen asked her, when she'd heard Eve tell it all right from arriving at the hotel down to the very last detail of the evening.
'I'm still furious with him,' Eve said. 'But I hardly think it's worth telling him now. I don't want to go there, get involved, be fighting with my ex. But I certainly don't want him to come back and play the big glamorous daddy-figure when he's been so absent for all these years. I don't want the boys to like him!' she blurted out. 'I know that's unreasonable and it's only fair for them to want to get to know him... blah... blah . . . But actually, I just wanted: Dennis comes back, it's obvious to everyone what a big shit he is, Dennis goes away again.
'And how come I was never told about his wife? About the fact that she was pregnant when he left us? That was quite an important thing he left out there.'
'He's a prat,' Jen reminded her. 'He thinks about himself almost all of the time. We know all this, Eve. But I have to say, I'm so looking forward to meeting him.'
'What?'
'At the wedding! There is still going to be a wedding, isn't there?'
'As far as I know – but what do I know? I didn't even know about my ex-husband's other woman. God! I was supposed to be the one who was so together and I feel totally undermined.'
'Because you haven't got a husband?' Jen asked with some indignation.
'Maybe ... or a glamorous job ... or any sort of fuck-off lifestyle to show off.'
'EVE!!! I just can't believe I'm hearing this from you! You had nothing. He left you with two little kids and nothing else. You've done it all yourself, so please stop having a wobble.'
There was a small silence before Jen burst out again: 'I can't believe he still has this effect on you. Hello!!! You know, I might have to pretend you didn't say any of these things and you'll wake up again in the morning the woman I know and love. The woman who can grow her own potatoes, find fifty-five different ways to cook them, answer A-level algebra questions, have sex in the lotus position, and still hold down a full-time job.'
Eve had to laugh at this: 'Sex in the lotus position!'
'Try it. It's a challenge,' Jen cackled back at her, then added: 'You're going to be fine, you silly moo. Call the vet.'
'No, no. I couldn't.'
'Call the vet,' Jen said again.
'It's Nils. Why do we keep calling him the vet?'
'I don't know, it sounds much dirtier. What's Dennis's wife like anyway?'
'She's OK . . . she's the kind of wife Dennis should have: businesslike, groomed, confident, runs her own company... has driven her daughters to drugs,' she couldn't help adding, a tiny bit gleefully.
'Really?'
'Well, I don't know. Anna said they've been in rehab, but for all I know, it could have been chocolate addiction, you know Americans. I'm being a bitch, I've only just met these people.'
'Are you glad it's not you? Married to Dennis, living in the States, running your own company and whatever else?'
'Yes,' Eve said, without having to think about it.
'Well, that's OK then. He hurt you all really badly but it's turned out OK.'
'You're right,' Eve said finally. 'I think we're doing a good job.'
'We're doing the best we can. What more is there?'
There was a pause in which they both smiled and felt the warmth of each other's affection, acknowledged each other's support over the years, through the happy times and through the really tough times.
'What are you wearing to the wedding?' Jen asked then.
'Oh wait till you see it!'
'When?'
So they made their arrangements to meet up and finally said good night.
Eve tiptoed into the children's room and smoothed covers, patted hair and kissed cheeks.
Anna had fallen asleep with her book open in her hand: it was her well-worn copy of Families and How to Survive Them. Eve had to smile at that. She gently eased it out and put it down on the bedside table.
She went into the kitchen and did her chores, then made tea. In a life full of little rituals, this was one of Eve's favourites: the gentle whump the tea caddy lids made when she pushed up the latches with her thumb, ahhhhhh, the smell of the tea – her own mix, two-thirds Earl Grey, one part Darjeeling – the rustle of the leaves when she dug in, and the clank of the spoon as she stirred the boiling brew round her favourite old teapot.
When the cup was poured – yes a little blue and white porcelain cup, with saucer and teaspoon, for private tea drinking – she took it through to her bedroom, turned on the gentle orangey sidelight and got undressed, letting her clothes fall into a heap at her feet until she was naked.