‘Why isn’t he at school?’ she asked when Oliver had been distracted from his disappointment and had thrown himself through the back door and was hurling a football about. ‘I was only whizzing in for ten minutes – I thought you’d be off to collect him soon.’
‘We had an appointment with the educational psychologist – wasn’t worth taking him back for only an hour or so.’
‘And?’
Alison shrugged. ‘They just want to monitor him for the moment. He thinks his behaviour may settle once we get the full learning support in place.’ She sighed. ‘It’s been such a long bloody haul.’
Sherie reached into one of Alison’s cupboards and pulled out a box of peppermint tea. ‘Did you try what I said? Magnesium and zinc?’
‘Yes, I read your email. I’ll think about it.’ Alison was suddenly brisk. ‘It’s not always easy to do fad diets with a family to feed, you know …’
Sherie dropped a teabag into one of Alison’s mugs and emptied the kettle onto it. ‘It’s not a fad,’ she said, keeping her voice pleasant. ‘Cutting down sugars and increasing foods rich in minerals is quite simple. You can give Ols avocados and bananas and nuts, and as a family you focus on lean proteins. It can only be healthy for you all to cut down on processed foods and eat more fish, fruit and vegetables, surely?’
‘Yes, ok! I’m going to look at it.’
There was a pause. ‘I’m glad Charlotte’s been helpful anyway,’ said Sherie lightly. ‘Had many viewings?’
‘A couple. But Charlotte’s got six lined up for the weekend. All DFLs, she says. Mainly media people – apparently Margate is now the place to be.’
‘Well I hope it goes soon, so you don’t lose the other one. Sounds fantastic.’
‘Well it will be when we’ve done it up. I can’t wait for Oliver and Ant to have their own bedrooms, I tell you. They fight the whole time – it’s doing my head in.’
‘So Fay’s storing your stuff is she?’
‘Yep! And Charlotte said we should use her to move us as well.’
‘Oh yes – she’ll be very good. Have you met her yet?’
Alison shook her head.
Sherie removed her teabag and flipped it neatly into the swing bin. ‘I think you’ll like her. One of these salt-of-the-earth types – what you see is what you get and all that. Let’s you know about her Northern, working class roots – calls a spade a spade and proud of it.’ Sherie smiled. ‘Even though she’s been down here for ever and has a massive house on the esplanade. She is funny. I think she likes shocking people. But Charlotte says her service is brilliant.’
Alison nodded. She walked into the cramped utility room at the end of the narrow kitchen and opened the chest freezer. ‘You can stay for tea if you like,’ she said, delving into it. ‘If you’re prepared to eat sausages. They are good ones,’ she added, with mock pointed-ness. ‘From the butcher! Made with free range pork. Oliver would be thrilled and the others will love to see you when they get back.’
‘I can’t. I’ve got a date.’
‘Oh?’ Her sister raised her eyebrows.
‘Though I don’t know why I’m bothering – it won’t be any good. It never is.’
‘Well it won’t be if you go with that attitude,’ said Alison, suddenly sounding like their mother. ‘Where did you meet this one?’
‘Online of course, as always. Where else would I meet anyone?’
Alison put a large frozen package on the work surface and reached into the vegetable rack for potatoes. ‘I don’t know – where do most people find a partner?’
‘I really have no idea!’ Sherie knew she sounded sharp. ‘He seems ok – good-looking enough in his photo, and we had quite a nice chat on the phone, but I don’t know, it seems such an effort.’ Sherie shook back her hair. ‘I never appreciated how easy it was to be young. When you just slapped on a bit of make-up and got a pair of heels out of the cupboard and everybody thought you looked lovely.’ She sighed. ‘It takes hours now to even look OK.’
Sherie stepped into the hall and pushed her face towards the mirror. ‘Ugh – look at my neck.’
‘You look fantastic and you know you do,’ said Alison flatly.
‘There’s so much to live up to nowadays,’ Sherie went on, ignoring her. ‘I was reading an interview with Kylie on the plane. My goodness she looks brilliant at fifty-one. Barely a line on her face, her arms all toned …’
‘Probably airbrushed,’ said Alison. ‘And stop fishing for compliments. You know your face looks loads younger than you are. Should do after all you spend on it,’ she added tartly.
‘Seriously–’ Sherie began, feeling her voice wobble. She’d come here wanting to confide in her sister. Alison was five years younger but so often seemed the more mature of the two of them, with a wisdom Sherie didn’t feel she herself possessed. She wondered what Alison would say if she told her everything. ‘I’m tired of all this,’ she went on tentatively, thinking she might ease her way up to it ‘–chasing around looking for a man, having to wax and pluck and exfoliate and moisturise and rub my dry heels just in case someone wants to take me to bed–’
Alison frowned in warning as Oliver reappeared, mud on his face.
Sherie smiled at the small boy. ‘I sometimes wish I lived in a fairy tale and could just kiss Marquis and he’d turn into my prince.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Alison. ‘You might have a problem with his breath.’
‘Honestly, she’s like my grandmother sometimes.’ Sherie leant against the back of the wooden seat in Green’s and rolled her eyes at Roz. ‘Remember before she met Luke when she could be fun? She makes no effort at all now – no make-up, shapeless old tracksuits. She only dresses up to go to work and that’s a sensible blouse from M&S. I bought her a beautiful top from Zara for her birthday – never seen it on her.’
Roz shook her head. If Sherie ever went on Mastermind her specialist subject would definitely not be ‘Being In Another’s Shoes’ or ‘Attempting Empathy’. ‘Well looking after three kids is hard work,’ she said. ‘Is she still at the surgery?’
‘Just in the mornings. She was supposed to be going full-time but she wants to be there for Ols after school. Especially now.’
‘We can’t all be as glamorous as you …’ Roz smiled.
‘I don’t feel like that.’ Sherie picked up her gin and tonic and sipped, looking suddenly emotional. ‘Thanks for meeting me anyway.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Roz twirled the plastic stirrer in her own glass and looked at Sherie quizzically. ‘Is the big five-o getting to you that much?’
‘It’s not just that–’
‘What then?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Sherie sighed. ‘I’m too tired to explain. I think I’d rather be spending the whole evening with you than meeting this bloke,’ she added. ‘I don’t have the energy for it tonight.’
‘Well at least you’ve had a stiffener.’ Roz said practically. ‘And you can say straightaway that you’ve got a very early start and can’t be late. You can always change that later if you’re having a wonderful time, but at least you’ve got an escape if not.’ She looked at her watch. ‘If you’re with him at eight, you can slide away at nine thirty if he’s a dork.’
‘He actually sounded very bright. He’s a marine engineer or something. But says he reads the Times,’ Sherie sounded approving. ‘And we talked about the direction of Three Billboards and he really rates Frances McDormand too, so that was good. And–’ Sherie smiled. ‘I asked about cats and he said he liked all animals.’
‘What, even rats and headlice?’ Roz smiled too. ‘Well he sounds promising then, and you liked his photo. Who knows – he may be The One.’
‘You’ve been saying that for years.’ Sherie took another mouthful of her drink. ‘They had a repeat of The Likely Lads on the other evening – I watched it because I couldn’t be bothered to switch it off. I thought about us. It’s such a sad theme song. ‘What became of the people we used to be?’ Have you ever listen
ed to all the words? It really made me feel miserable.’
Roz shook her head. ‘Hey come on – we’re still here – just a bit older and more wrinkled. Well you aren’t,’ she added hastily. ‘You look amazing – you really do.’
It was true – in the soft light of Green’s Wine Bar, Sherie’s complexion was flawless, and line free. Her eyes were luminous, her beautifully-shaped and darkly-lipsticked mouth dramatic against her pale skin. But once again there was a nervousness about her. For Sherie, Roz guessed, the milestone birthday was a reminder of what she saw as her failure to have nailed down a relationship. Sherie shrugged off all her other achievements – everything was about getting a man. And now, Roz suspected, she felt time was running out.
‘You’re beautiful,’ said Roz honestly. ‘You look years younger than the rest of us. Hey – could that be him?’
Sherie swung round to peer past the end of the booth they were in. ‘Oh God yes, I think it is.’ They both gazed down the long room to where the tall, fair, jacketed man was speaking to Sarah behind the bar. ‘He’s a bit bloody early.’
Roz downed the last of her wine and gathered keys and bag. ‘Looks quite attractive from here. I’ll pay for the drinks and be off. You can give him a wave in a minute.’
Sherie grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go just yet. I’ve suddenly got cold feet about this …’
She woke in the early hours, feeling warm breath close to her cheek. For a moment she was startled, her body jolting into a sitting position in alarm. Then she looked round, her muscles relaxing as she sunk back into the pillows with relief, as she remembered.
Greg was indeed attractive. And attentive. And generous – he’d insisted on paying for their food and wine. He’d listened with interest while she described her job and wanted to know about her family. He was wearing a very nice shirt. Sherie had felt herself unwind as they shared a seafood platter and drank a crisp, cold Chablis, dismissing her earlier misgivings as nerves.
She heard Roz’s voice in her head about snap judgements and making allowances for the bloke possibly being nervous too. So when he’d made a slightly dismissive comment about the gender pay gap, she’d reminded herself he worked in a very male-dominated environment – there were no female marine engineers at all on his shipping line, he told her – so he probably simply hadn’t really thought it through.
He was, after all, a champion of women generally – he described his two sisters in glowing terms – going into considerable detail about Jennifer’s abilities as an accountant and Sylvie’s talent as a music therapist. For a moment the reverence with which he spoke about both of them made Sherie uncomfortable, but then he explained sombrely that his mother had died when he was fourteen so his older siblings had been like parents to him …
Sherie found herself admitting that her relationship with her own parents was not always easy and he had nodded sympathetically, confiding that he hadn’t seen his father since he’d left home at eighteen. ‘A terrible temper,’ he said. ‘I would never shout at a child the way he yelled at us.’
But he didn’t regret not having children himself – he had five nephews and nieces who all loved Uncle Greg. He had laughed and got his phone out to show her a picture of a group of grinning kids in a garden with a trampoline in the background, and she had been able to tell him about her beloved Oliver and how worried they had all been when he was having such a hard time at school.
Sherie wasn’t used to revealing so much personal stuff on a first date. At first she answered his questions awkwardly but Greg seemed genuinely to want to know all about her and was open about his own life – explaining how he’d never married or even lived with anyone for long – being deep-sea so much. But that now he’d retired from that and was working on the cross-channel ferries, he was hoping to meet someone he could have a ‘normal’ life with. ‘And to be honest,’ he added disarmingly. ‘I was too selfish when I was younger. I like to think now, I have a better understanding of what a woman wants …’ He was looking at her in a way that suddenly made her wonder what it would be like if he kissed her and she dropped her eyes and took a swallow of wine, afraid her thoughts showed on her face.
She’d made the speech about the early start but 9.30 p.m. came and went and it was he who looked at his watch just after ten, expressing concern that she should get enough sleep.
She assumed they’d get separate cabs but he immediately took the lead ordering one that could drop her off in Reading Street on his way to Westgate. Sherie, used to having to do everything herself, liked the way he did. He held the door of the taxi open, stood back while she got in. On the back seat he sat next to her, not touching but close enough for their clothes to brush. As they drew up outside her apartment, she felt a small thrill run through her as he softly kissed her cheek and took her fingers in his for a brief moment. Almost from a distance, she heard herself say it, against all her usual safety considerations and first date risk assessments. ‘Do you want a quick coffee before you go home …?’
She’d gone through her front door, mellow on wine and good conversation, thinking she might go to bed with him.
She couldn’t pinpoint later where her slight sense of unease had set in.
He didn’t make any move when they sat on the sofa. He asked about the art on the walls, admiring the sketch of Marquis – who had disappeared through the cat flap shortly after they arrived – and wanting a quite detailed lowdown on Nate in a way that felt a little odd.
‘I can’t understand why you haven’t been snapped up,’ he said, stretching his long legs out in front of him and looking at her with a slow smile. ‘Or have you had strings of lovers and broken their hearts?’ It was said in a teasing way, but Sherie felt flustered.
‘I wish,’ she said lightly, feeling uncomfortable now the way his eyes lingered on her. She said it only to cover her confusion. ‘One last coffee?’
He sprang to his feet. ‘Let me help …’
‘You are very special,’ he murmured, as he followed her back into the kitchen to watch her pour milk into his mug for a second time.
She knew he was going to do it and it was as much the fear of hurting his feelings as any physical response, that made her kiss him back when he put his arms around her.
But there was something about the way he held her – the way he gazed into her face – that made her shrink inside.
‘I think I’d better get some sleep after this,’ she said, pulling gently away, ignoring the hope in his eyes. He had wanted to arrange their next meeting there and then but she’d suggested they text. He was talking about a restaurant in Whitstable he wanted to take her to and, not being sure what else to do, or even understanding her own hesitancy, when he’d done nothing wrong, she’d said it sounded lovely.
Still she heard herself exhale lengthily when his cab had finally hooted outside and she’d been able to climb upstairs with Marquis.
Now she shifted the cat off her pillow and repositioned him further down the bed as she stretched out, glad to be here on her own and not having to make morning-after conversation. On the bedside table her phone beeped. She picked it up, scanning the number on the screen. He’d texted when he got home last night thanking her for a ‘wonderful evening’ and saying he would be in touch soon. She hadn’t yet stored his name.
Sherie raised her eyebrows as she took in the opening lines of the text sent at 6.30 a.m. The experience of spending time in her company had been upgraded to ‘magical’. Which seemed a tad over the top.
Then she read the next one and frowned.
Chapter 10
Ding dong!
Roz strode to the door, heels clicking across the expanse of parquet flooring.
She threw it open and gazed sternly at the tall man on the doorstep. He was younger-looking than she’d imagined. He looked at her hesitantly and offered a shy smile. ‘Err – would you be–? I’m so sorry–’ He spread his hands apologetically. ‘I’ve forgotten your name.’
‘Miss Sterling, to you!�
� she snapped.
‘Oh! Right!’ The man coloured slightly. ‘I’ve erm just come round because–’
He was going too fast.
She glared again though part of her wanted to giggle. ‘Silence! I know why you’re here.’ She held her head erect and tried to look down her nose towards him, in an attempt to appear forbidding, but ended up eyeballing his chest. ‘You’d better come in,’ she said coldly. ‘You have some explaining to do.’
Damn. She’d got it wrong – he’d thrown her off track by speaking. He was supposed to say nothing at all until she said: ‘Yes, Boy?’ He was probably nervous too, she decided. Well, nothing lost. She’d get them back on script now.
She led him into the opulent sitting room where she’d just arranged fresh roses, and stood in front of the fireplace.
‘Sit!’ she commanded, nodding towards the huge brocade sofa. She could see his mouth working slightly – and he was shifting uneasily against the cushions. He was clearly new to this too and unsure what to do. Or was this him getting into role as well?
She raised herself to the full height allowed by her sensible shoes and brushed imaginary fluff from the sleeve of her fitted tweed Hobbs suit – an absolute find in the charity shop at the end of Margate High Street after she’d done some Googling on strict headmistress attire – before fixing him with another icy stare.
‘So,’ she said, with slow menace. ‘You have been sent to see me.’
‘Er yes. I was–’
‘QUIET!’ For a moment she felt a small bubble of hysteria at the back of her throat. He was acting scared well, as he shrank back slightly on the sofa. ‘And sit up straight!’ she roared, beginning to enjoy herself. ‘I will not tolerate slouching in my school!’
Now he looked genuinely alarmed. He stood up and moved towards her and she stepped forward and pushed him hard in the chest so he sat abruptly back down again.
The Big Five O Page 7