by Janey Fraser
‘Sit down,’ she said, waving him to his own sofa, ‘while I tell you what I found. I have to say that it’s looking hopeful. More hopeful than I had thought.’
They spent nearly an hour talking it over, by which time she had got through two more vodkas. ‘You won’t be able to drive now,’ he pointed out.
Ed stretched so that her taut brown stomach was on display between the top of her skirt and the bottom of the lacy camisole under her jacket. ‘I could always stay the night,’ she purred.
‘Sorry.’ Joe was already on the phone. ‘I’ve got plans, I’m afraid. But I’ll get you a taxi and you can pick up the car tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Ed looked hopeful. ‘Does that mean you’ll be asking me over for dinner as a thank-you?’
Joe shook his head. ‘Ed, we agreed that all this is strictly business, didn’t we?’
She pouted. ‘Spoilsport.’ Then she staggered across to his fridge. ‘By the way, I think I left one of my gel eye packs in here. Don’t tell me one of your new girlfriends has pilfered it.’ She waggled a finger. ‘You owe me one.’
There was a loud beep outside. ‘Your taxi’s here,’ he said with relief.
‘I’m going, I’m going.’ As she passed him, she caught hold of his jacket lapels, forcing him to look at her. ‘And don’t forget, Joe. Not a word about our so-called business arrangement to anyone. Not until I’m certain. We don’t want anyone to be disappointed, do we?’
Then she departed, leaving Joe to breathe out a deep sigh of relief.
* * *
For the first time since he’d lived in London, Joe found himself at odds with everything that weekend. He did all the things he had promised himself. Portobello. Again. The Science Museum. A film in Leicester Square. But it all seemed to have lost its charm. He found himself yearning for the quiet evening walks along the Hazelwood canal which he regularly enjoyed. He missed the coffee shops where you could get a seat and where you were bound to bump into a parent or someone from school. And he missed Gemma, dammit, with her sparkly eyes and knock on the door saying she was terribly sorry but she’d run out of chocolate powder again.
All in all, he wasn’t sorry to come back on Sunday night. As he went into his room he could hear raised voices through the wall between him and Gemma. It wasn’t difficult to hear what they were saying.
‘If you hadn’t been late on Friday, we wouldn’t have missed it. Frankly, I call it selfish.’
That was Action Man. Not the cool suave Action Man he had grown to dislike for no particular reason, but an angry cold Action Man who was being decidedly rude to a lady.
‘I couldn’t help it, Barry. It was an emergency. Beryl was glad of my support.’
That was definitely Gemma! An upset Gemma who made him want to march next door and tell this man/ boy to cool it.
‘I’m sorry, Barry. But you know how important my work is.’
She was apologising? It ought to be stroppy Action Kid.
‘I just feel that you put everyone first at that place, and that I come second every time. It’s not right, Gemma. Don’t you want to be part of a couple?’
There was the sound of someone crying, and Joe had to clench his fists to stop himself bursting in. How dare that oaf talk to her like that?
The voices softened then, and he could hear low murmurings. Joe didn’t like the sound of that at all. They were making up. And from what he’d heard, Joyce’s son didn’t deserve that. Selfish, he had called Gemma. She was the least selfish person he knew, but he also knew that when someone was constantly criticised by their partner (as Ed had criticised him), their self-esteem plummeted and they believed what the other person said.
The next day, Joe took care to get to the bathroom even earlier than usual. The last thing he wanted was to bump into Gemma’s fiancé. If he did, he couldn’t trust himself not to give him a piece of his mind. He also wanted to get to his classroom early in order to sort out his number-project display, which was going on the wall for the parents to admire after the nativity play.
‘Mr Balls! Mr Balls!’
When Joe first arrived at Corrybank he’d been irritated by everyone’s habit of saying everything twice, whether they were children or adults. Now he was getting used to it.
‘Yes, Di.’ He did a double take at her bright red outfit. ‘I must say, that’s very fetching.’
She glowed at the compliment, which Joe hadn’t intended but which had somehow come out, and was making him feel surprisingly good about himself. ‘Thank you.’ She was waving an envelope in front of him. ‘It’s come! It’s come!’
‘What’s come?’
This was silly, thought Joe as he opened the envelope. They were beginning to sound like a bad pantomime script, although, in his opinion, you couldn’t get much worse than the one that was to be performed on Thursday night. Three wise women, indeed!
‘Have we won? Have we won?’ Di was jumping up and down now as though she was on the small mini trampoline in the hall.
Joe read the letter carefully, in case he had made a mistake.
‘I think,’ he said, handing it to her – it was headed TOP TEN PLAYGROUP/TOP TEN RECEPTION YEAR – ‘you might want to read this one for yourself.’ He smiled weakly. ‘Just to make sure I haven’t read it wrong.’
Chapter 60
GEMMA THOUGHT ABOUT Joe as she put the finishing touches to a donkey’s tail with the help of wire wool and a spot of Blu-tac. She wished now she hadn’t complained to Beryl about him in the early days. She had butted in on the meeting after Juan’s accident in order to back Joe up. Still, it looked as though it was all too late now. He was leaving, even though he didn’t have another job. If only she’d known earlier that his rather brash, brusque exterior shielded the personal problems he had told her about in their illuminating coffee-shop chat a few weeks ago.
Perhaps, she told herself, Barry was more insecure than he seemed. Maybe she shouldn’t have got so upset when he had called her selfish. It was just, as he’d explained when they’d kissed and made up, that he wanted her all for himself. She should really take that as a compliment.
Meanwhile, he had promised to understand that she might be preoccupied with the nativity play. Relations were at crisis point amongst the Puddleducks at the moment. The second angel had fallen out with the first angel because the third angel had become best friends with the first instead of the second, and not asked the latter to her birthday party. That in turn had led to a heated exchange amongst the mothers the other day at pick-up time.
So difficult! Gemma could remember not being asked to someone’s birthday party at school once, and feeling awful.
‘We’ll have to stand them at different ends of the stage,’ suggested Bella, who kept twirling her ring just in case anyone hadn’t noticed its new position.
Then there was the tricky situation with one of the wise men, who kept sucking his costume. Could sequins go straight through?
The day before the big night, a real calamity occurred. ‘I’ve lost Baby Jesus!’ wailed the Virgin Mary. ‘I can’t sleep without him.’
Gemma had warned Clemmie’s mother that it might not be a good idea for Clemmie to bring in her favourite doll, but both had insisted. The doll was bone china and had belonged to a famous designer whom Mummy had once worked for.
In the end, the doll was found in the messy corner, where the understudy for the Virgin Mary had been trying to wash its hair in the jelly bowl in retaliation for not clinching the role herself.
‘Mrs Merryfield? Why is jelly green?’
‘Good question, Sienna. It can be other colours too, depending on how it’s made.’
Only twenty-four hours to go! ‘Barry, I’m really sorry,’ she said when she rang from school on her mobile. ‘I just can’t go out tonight. Bella and I have to stay late to finish the stage scenery.’
There was a tight silence at the other end. ‘But you know I’ve only got a few days before my leave ends.’
His voice was clipped
and even. Even worse, she could hear Joyce in the background. ‘What’s wrong, dear? Has she stood you up again?’
This was ridiculous, thought Gemma, feeling cross now. He was a grown man. Why didn’t he tell his mother to mind her own business?
‘Perhaps you could explain to Joyce that I have to work in order to pay my rent,’ she snapped.
Bella raised her eyebrows at the conversation, and Gemma turned her back in order to get some privacy. ‘Look, sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude but I did warn you, Barry, that I’ve got to work late this week. Otherwise the play simply won’t be ready.’
She could imagine him nodding that short, sharp nod at the other end of the phone. ‘We can’t have that, can we?’ he replied cuttingly before hanging up. A nasty cold feeling crawled down Gemma’s spine. She’d have some making-up to do when she got back that night – to both mother and son. Except that, she didn’t feel this time that it was up to her to apologise. Barry should understand, just as she had to understand about his job. And Joyce should stay out of it.
Meanwhile, she couldn’t spare any time to dwell on it. If she was ever going to get home tonight, she needed to push on with the scenery. Ah good, here was Joe. That would give them three sets of hands to get the job done.
‘Isn’t it fantastic about the award?’ chirped Bella as she put the finishing touches to the large sheet of cardboard that was meant to be a tree.
Everything was fantastic in Bella’s book now that the ring was back in situ, but yes, it was amazing about the award.
‘I can’t believe they made a special category just for us,’ she continued.
Gemma smiled at Joe. ‘It is incredible. If you hadn’t sent those pictures in and emailed all those newspapers, it might not have happened.’
Three months ago, she thought, he’d have said something about it being an obvious business strategy, but now he was looking almost shy, as though he was embarrassed at being praised.
‘It’s a shame that your book didn’t get a prize,’ sympathised Bella, who, at the moment, was feeling magnanimous towards the whole world.
‘Our book,’ he reminded her. ‘It was Brian’s idea in the first place, but as he says, prizes aren’t everything.’
Bella made a cooing sound. ‘Such a sweet old man. He reminds me of my grandfather.’
‘He’s not that old,’ said Joe quickly, ‘although I suppose that at your age anyone over thirty is ancient!’
‘Course they are,’ said Bella and somehow, Gemma had a feeling she wasn’t joking.
‘Have you thought about getting the book printed and selling it to the parents?’ she suggested.
Joe nodded. ‘Beryl has already given the go-ahead and it’s with the printers now. Might even be ready for the spring bring-and-buy.’
‘Pity you won’t be there to see it.’ Bella squinted at her representation of a tree to see if that made it look any better. It didn’t. ‘Do you think this tree looks lopsided?’
‘Yes,’ said Joe and Gemma together, and found themselves laughing helplessly, like children when they got a fit of the giggles.
‘What’s the joke?’
Gemma turned to find Barry at the door.
‘The tree,’ she said, starting to laugh all over again. ‘We’re admiring Bella’s artistic skill.’
‘Or lack of it,’ added Joe. ‘Want to join us? We could do with a hand.’
Barry took a step back. ‘Decorating’s not my thing. I was just wondering how long you were going to be, Gemma?’
‘Ahhh,’ cooed Bella. ‘How sweet. He’s missing you. You two go ahead. Honestly. Joe and I will finish off, won’t we?’
Chapter 61
‘YOU DIDN’T SAY that Joe was going to be staying late too,’ said Barry briskly. They were walking back down the hill to the restaurant where he had booked dinner. He’d announced this fact soon after collecting her from school, as though expecting praise, even though she had made it clear she couldn’t go out that night.
‘He did it as a favour so we could finish the scenery,’ Gemma retorted in an equally short, brisk manner. ‘Now the two of them are going to have to do it on their own.’
‘When you do the kind of job I do,’ he said carefully, reaching for her hand, ‘you realise that each minute counts when you’re with your loved ones. You never know how much time you have left.’
Kitty had warned her about that. Of course she was pleased for her, about her engagement. But after spending years waiting for her first love to turn up, did she really want now to wait months at a time for a man whom she didn’t know very well and who might, with the uncertainties of war, not even return?
‘Or,’ Kitty had asked with her usual ability to strike a nerve, ‘is that part of the attraction? You have the security of a relationship without it being on your doorstep.’
‘Of course I don’t want a long-distance engagement or even marriage, but that’s just the way it is,’ Gemma had replied.
Kitty hadn’t sounded convinced. Maybe it was because of her own army brother that Gemma understood more about the demands made by Barry’s job than he did about hers. Besides, men like Barry, she told herself, were doing a brave thing, unlike most other professionals. Take that poor kid who had been blown up last week from friendly fire. He was only nineteen. Her heart had bled for his parents and his too-young pregnant fiancée, staring blankly out from the front page of her newspaper.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said now, reminding herself of this. ‘I know we don’t have much time left. It’s just that I feel I’m being pulled in all kinds of directions at the moment.’
They’d reached the restaurant by now and Barry had, rather overzealously she thought, reached over and unfolded her napkin for her. ‘By the way,’ he said, with a smile which irritated her, for no apparent reason, ‘your friend Kitty rang when you were at work. Apparently your mobile was playing up again so she left a message with me instead. She’s really sorry but she can’t make it after all, because she’s got a last-minute booking that her agent says she’s got to do.’
No! Kitty couldn’t possibly let her down like that!
‘She said there was no point ringing her,’ added Barry, watching her fish for her mobile in her bag. ‘She’s filming tonight. But she did suggest that you might step in as the fairy queen instead.’
‘Me? But I’ve got to supervise the children. And I’ve got nothing to wear.’
Barry passed her the menu. ‘She said you’d say that. So she told me to tell you that you could always wear your dress from Las Vegas. Something about it being a test.’ He frowned. ‘Any idea what she was talking about?’
Clever, clever Kitty. The dress would be a test, in more ways than one. Three, in fact.
Kitty clearly thought it would be a test for her, Gemma, to see if wearing her wedding dress made her feel as she had about her silver chain. If so, it might mean she still had feelings for Sam.
Obviously she couldn’t come between a man and his not-wife, especially as there was a child at stake. But if she did feel twinges about wearing the dress, she shouldn’t marry Barry. After all, it would mean that she hadn’t progressed emotionally since taking off the necklace.
The second test would be Sam’s reaction. What would he say when he saw the dress? Would he recognise it? And if so, would he suggest that they reconsider their future?
And the third test would be Barry’s. If she told him that her fairy-queen costume was her wedding dress, how would he react? If he accepted it, it meant he could accept her baggage. If not, then did she really want a man who was, she was beginning to feel, a bit of a control freak? It wasn’t just that he checked her phone every time it rang. It was also that he questioned her whenever she mentioned Sam’s name, despite also mentioning Nancy and Danny at the same time. And now he didn’t like her working late.
It was all those things, plus several smaller niggles that couldn’t be set aside easily. Not to mention the fact that she still wasn’t experiencing any fireworks.
Maybe, she told herself shakily, her body was trying to tell her something that her mind refused to recognise: the uncomfortable truth that Barry wasn’t the right man for her after all.
Chapter 62
‘HIIIIIC. HIIIIC. HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC.’
Dick Whittington’s cat had got hiccups.
Puss wouldn’t have been there at all if it hadn’t been for one of the parents who had written in to complain about the nativity play being ‘biased towards one religion’. Why can’t you include other fairy tales too? she had demanded. There was no pleasing everyone! Gemma herself always got a thrill from the Christmas story. It wouldn’t have been the same without it.
‘Try drinking from the other side of a mug, dear,’ said Helpful Mum, as Miriam used to call her. ‘We did that in my day. It’s meant to help you stop. Whoops. Oh dear. Has anyone got a cloth?’
‘Mrs Merryfield, Mrs Merryfield, my daddy’s going to be here!’
‘That’s nice.’
‘No it’s not. Mum doesn’t want him near us.’
‘Miss Merryfield, I’m terribly sorry to bother you but is it possible for Sienna to stand a bit nearer the front than she did at the dress rehearsal? It will give us a clearer view for the camcorder.’
‘Mrs Merryfield, Mrs Merryfield? Are you getting married?’
Gemma looked down to feel Clemmie stroking her dress. ‘It’s beautiful.’ The child’s eyes were full of wonder. ‘You look like a princess.’
One of the mums, who was hastily stitching up the ox’s tail, nodded, her mouth full of pins. ‘It’s gorgeous. Billy, will you stand still?’
Thank you, Gemma wanted to say. It was my wedding dress. Not that she could ever tell anyone that, but it was a revelation that she could think those words without feeling so much as a tiny ripple of regret. She had passed Kitty’s test! It didn’t hurt to wear the dress again that she had once worn with so many hopes and dreams. It was proof that she had finally moved on.
At that moment, Joe walked by and she saw his eyes widen as they took in her appearance. She felt a slight flush of pleasure. If Joe approved, that meant she really did look all right. Still, she mustn’t forget that this evening wasn’t about her. It was about the children around her, and of course their parents.