The Big Five O

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  She stepped smartly into the middle of the foyer right into their path. She saw the startled look on his face. Fay pounced, her voice sugary tight.

  ‘Roger! What a surprise! Fancy seeing you here – tucked away in a hotel far from home in the middle of the afternoon. No work today?’

  The woman’s eyes widened. She looked uneasily from Roger to Fay as he gaped. Fay ploughed on. ‘Well? Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?’

  Roger appeared to recover himself. He nodded. ‘Yes of course. This is Marion.’

  ‘I thought it might be.’

  Roger turned to the woman next to him, who gave an embarrassed half-smile. ‘This is Fay – she’s a good friend of my wife’s.’

  ‘Too right I am,’ said Fay loudly. ‘And her name’s Charlotte.’

  The woman nodded as if she knew this already and Fay glared.

  Then she turned back to Roger. ‘What the fuck is going on?’

  Chapter 23

  In TV dramas you know it’s bad news when the police come in twos. If someone’s died, one of them is usually a woman who makes a cup of tea.

  There are three people in the hospital room. The consultant, Mr Anand – a quiet, sorrowful looking man – a sympathetically smiling nurse and a student with curly hair. They asked me if he could be there too, to observe, and I nodded. How else would he learn? He looks terrified.

  After Mr Anand has told me sadly that my stress lump is malignant, the nurse sends the student to get me a plastic cup of water. Mr Anand is the one to hand me the tissues.

  They seem surprised I am on my own, that I haven’t told anyone else that I am here. I try to concentrate while they talk through the options but the tears just keep silently falling out of my eyes and streaming down my face.

  The nurse takes my hand when Mr Anand goes to speak to someone about arranging what will come next. She talks about support and counselling and presses leaflets into my hand, illustrated with women in headscarves. She speaks about success rates and recovery. She is kind.

  Afterwards I find a card in my hand with her phone number on it but I can’t remember the details of anything she’s said.

  I could choose to have chemotherapy to shrink the lump before they remove it. I too could lose my eyebrows and wear a turban. They say I might want to go home and think about it. Discuss the options with my family. I shake my head vigorously. No – I say, cut it out now. Please, please get rid of it …

  Chapter 24

  ‘Got it!’ Charlotte slapped a celebratory hand against the screen of her iPad. ‘At last – Alison is exchanging today. I thought I’d never see the day. It’s been such a nightmare.’

  Fay dumped her large handbag on a kitchen chair. ‘So, 26th July’s a goer?’

  ‘It is! She’ll be all moved in before the party. And I won’t be sorry not to ever have to talk to her buyers again. They’re not even going to live there – house in Shoreditch, buying it as a rental – but they’ve messed me about from the start.’

  Charlotte rose from her kitchen table and filled the kettle. ‘And I’m waiting for a formal offer on the North Foreland house – but they’re definitely going to buy it – so champagne all round on party night I feel!’

  ‘And is that all going OK? I’m sorry I don’t feel I’ve done very much. I’ve had–’ Fay stopped. ‘I don’t know – I’ve been a bit–’

  ‘Snowed-under, yes I know.’ Charlotte flicked the switch and got mugs from the cupboard. ‘It’s all under control – there’s nothing to do now except turn up. I’ll go down in the afternoon and supervise the balloons and flowers. It was supposed to be Sherie’s job but she thinks she might be working earlier now and anyway–’ Charlotte laughed ‘–when it comes to entertaining, you know what a control freak I am. Just make sure you’ve invited everyone you want. Did I tell you Gaynor and Sam are coming home a day early from their holiday just to be there?’

  Fay frowned. ‘Do I know them?’

  ‘Yeah, course you do – she owns Green’s with Sarah. Never there – sleeping partner. They came round on the night we had the party for the final of Strictly? Blonde, slim, glamorous. Still got a flat stomach despite two kids. Remember? There weren’t exactly lots of us like that.’

  ‘I remember the party. I ate about a hundred of those little spicy sausages – they were to die for – and I still had a hangover.’

  Charlotte grinned. ‘It was great, wasn’t it? I read the other day that there’s a rumour Michael McIntyre is in the next series – oh god I so hope so – will be bloody hilarious. Are you watching Unforgotten? They ought to get those two in Strictly. I love that Sanjay!’

  Fay studied her friend as she made coffee. Charlotte had apparently accepted Fay’s account of finding Roger ensconced with two suits and a foot-thick contract having a weekly progress meeting, and two days later, was cheery to the point of manic.

  Roger had clearly played his part well, by announcing that he’d bumped into Fay unexpectedly and that he’d be glad when this acquisition was put to bed because he was fed up with all the repetitive and largely-unnecessary gatherings.

  Fay had seen the way Charlotte’s eyes had briefly narrowed when Fay was telling the tale, but she hadn’t cross-examined her and Fay was glad – she was feeling edgy and tired and might well have slipped up. ‘Well, in that case he’s forgiven,’ Charlotte had said shortly, and although she’d barely drawn breath since Fay had arrived, hadn’t mentioned it since.

  Fay inwardly rolled her eyes. Talk about tangled bloody webs.

  ‘I can’t stop,’ she said, taking the china mug Charlotte handed her. ‘I want to get back before they all knock off. I’ve just been to check up on some clients in Percy Avenue after some cock-up where three oil paintings got left behind – one of my chaps being dozy again. Apparently the smallest one was worth a fortune but the woman seemed remarkably laid back about it. The new owners gave the agent a ring and he brought them round. Can you imagine if they’d nicked them instead?’

  ‘Aren’t you insured for things like that?’

  ‘Well, yes, in theory, but her great uncle’s brother’s cousin or someone had painted it – one of these irreplaceable heirlooms. I should have taken a photo and asked Sherie what its value would be.’ Fay gave a hoot of laughter. ‘See if I should have pinched it myself …’

  She delved into her bag and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, holding them out to Charlotte. ‘Quick one?’ They both moved to the ever-open doorway to Charlotte’s patio. Fay noticed Charlotte’s hands shake slightly as she bent forwards to take a light. She looked at her hard.

  ‘Are you OK, Hun? Anything you’re not saying?’

  Charlotte looked steadily back. ‘I was wondering the same about you!’

  ‘What I’m wondering is …’ an hour later, Fay took a sharp drag on another fag and looked at the row of lorries to the right of her. ‘Is what dear Matthew will do next?’

  Beside her, in the late afternoon sunshine, Len took a mouthful from the mug of tea he was holding. ‘It might not have been him. There were three of them on the job. Who knows who missed it?’

  Fay sniffed. ‘I think we do. He’s not been with it since he had that kid. We’ve got our reputation to think of. My father would have given him a warning by now.’

  ‘Your dad,’ said Len mildly, ‘would have told him to go home and get some sleep …’

  Fay opened her mouth to retort as three of her workforce came out of the building behind her, in their boiler suits. The youngest one, Toby, gave his usual salute. ‘Night Guv! Goodnight Ma’am!’ Matt and Will both lifted hands in farewell. Matt looked exhausted. Fay hesitated, then gave them a wry smile. ‘Behave yourselves!’

  ‘Leave it to me,’ said Len, when they’d disappeared. ‘I’ve got an eye on it.’

  ‘I hope so! Since you were the one who said he was shaping up so well and I should give him a pay rise!’

  Len’s voice was even. ‘He was – and he will be – and yes, that was the right th
ing to do. He’s a good lad.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see. I hope he realises that with extra money comes extra responsibility and we can’t–’

  ‘The baby’s had colic.’

  ‘That’s not really my problem, is it! If the company loses business because of mistakes, then we’re all in the shit.’

  Len continued calmly as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘So they’re not getting much sleep. It won’t go on for ever, things will settle down.’

  ‘In the meantime, I would have thought, earning a living is still fairly vital. You’d better watch what you send him on.’

  ‘I already am.’

  ‘Didn’t stop those paintings being forgotten!’ Fay knew she was being crabby and Len’s unruffled manner made her more so.

  ‘But you’ve smoothed it all over and no harm was done.’ Len gave her a wide smile. ‘Got anything nice planned this evening?’

  Fay gave him a crooked smile back. ‘I have as it goes. Some uncomplicated sex and dirty rice …’

  It was a recipe she’d learned in Spain that she’d not cooked for Cory before. But knowing the way he’d tucked into her lasagne and then the spicy meatballs, she was confident it would be a hit.

  Fay poured herself a glass of red wine and began to assemble the ingredients for this risotto-style ground beef and rice dish she’d eaten so much of when she was Cory’s age. It had been her flat mate Emilio who’d called it ‘dirty rice’. He made it better than she did.

  She smiled at the thought of the beautiful Spaniard with his glossy curls and the thick lashes that put hers to shame. She hadn’t heard from him in ages. The last she knew, he and Jorge had moved to Madrid for Jorge’s new job and Emilio had said they might be in London for a business trip this summer, but there’d been no word since. He put as little on Facebook as she did, but his email address was on her computer at work. She’d drop him a line, tell him she’d been cooking their dish. Maybe she’d finally tell him he’d been right about Dave too.

  Emilio had never said ‘I told you so’ when she’d written, after such a long silence, to say she and Dave had parted. She hadn’t explained and he hadn’t commented at all. Just said he missed her. That she should move back to Spain – that they always wanted good teachers …

  But she still remembered the way she’d exploded when Emilio had criticised the man she longed to marry. ‘He not right guy for you,’ he’d said matter-of-factly, as he chopped tomatoes for passata in their tiny kitchen.

  ‘How would you know? You only met him for five minutes,’ she’d said angrily, after Dave had dropped her home after another dreamy after-work session drinking warm rioja and nibbling on salty manchego cheese in one of the traditional old bars around the square near the school.

  ‘It is all I need.’ Emilio had been unapologetic. He had laughed instead. ‘I am – how you say, my teacher? In Spanish it is psiquico.’

  ‘Psychic,’ she’d snapped. ‘And you’re not – you’re just interfering. And wrong.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t fancy him yourself?’ She’d asked nastily –unforgivably – when she’d told Emilio that Dave would follow her back to England when his contract ended.

  ‘He is very handsome man,’ Emilio had said seriously, his dark brown eyes looking almost sorrowfully into hers. ‘But–’ he had shrugged and shaken his head. As if there was something indefinably wrong that he couldn’t put his finger on …

  What had Emilio seen in Dave back then, that she had missed, Fay wondered as she finely sliced onions and crushed garlic. He had felt like her hero, giving up his job in the sunshine as Director of Studies, coming back here to support her during those awful first months after her father had died and her mother wouldn’t stop crying. She hadn’t had a single doubt when they’d tied the knot in Ramsgate Registry Office. She’d really thought it would be forever …

  Fay had deliberately left the laptop in the office again and her phone was at the bottom of her handbag. She glanced at the clock as she added the beef mince to the sautéed rice. She wouldn’t look at anything but she’d just check to see if there was a text from Cory. She hadn’t heard any beeps but she’d been watching the news on the small kitchen TV and had turned the volume up as the pundits discussed the latest round of fallout from Brexit.

  Adding the rest of the tomatoes and herbs, Fay left the mixture simmering and prepared to grab a quick shower. She tapped out a message to say the door was on the latch and went upstairs. If he arrived when she was still under the water, so much the better …

  Fay was looking forward to the distraction of seeing Cory. She felt like sex, she wanted someone to talk to about something that wasn’t work or being bloody fifty. She wanted to push everything else from her mind and feel his arms around her, needed it in a whole new way she wasn’t usually aware of. And tomorrow was Saturday. He wouldn’t have to leave early in the morning. She’d bought bacon and sausages.

  She smiled again. However much they went at it the night before, Cory always woke up as horny as hell and was starving afterwards.

  Ten minutes later, as Fay wrapped her silky kimono around her, hair still damp from the shower, she ran her hands down over her hips and looked at herself critically in the mirror. Charlotte didn’t give a shit about being fifty, Sherie behaved as if it were some sort of terminal diagnosis. She didn’t know what Roz felt really. Roz was strange at the moment, preoccupied. Fay had wandered into the gallery, when she’d found herself finished for the day and in Margate at half past five, thinking Roz might like to go for a quick drink, but Roz had looked fraught and said she had to get home. Probably something to do with that difficult daughter.

  At least Fay didn’t have to deal with that.

  She looked at herself again – she wasn’t doing too badly. She rarely went to the gym these days but she was always moving – as often as not helping to unload the lorries when stuff came in for storage.

  Her arms were reasonably toned still, she wasn’t overweight. Hadn’t yet got too jowly although she was careful to keep the lights low when she and Cory were in bed. He’d told her he’d thought her younger than she was when they first met.

  She looked at her phone when she got downstairs. He hadn’t sent a message but he’d been online only minutes earlier on WhatsApp. She turned the heat to very low under her cooking pot, took a photo of the contents and sent it to him. #domestic goddess. She added a smiley face to show she was laid back and then watched the screen waiting for him to reply. Two minutes later, there was a ping. sweet. leaving here in five.

  Fay felt the irritation rise. Leaving where? Work? Home? A pub? He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.

  She topped up her wine glass and breathed deeply. Young people had a more elastic view of time-keeping. It didn’t really matter. She looked at the salad ingredients she’d been about to chop and shred into a bowl and pushed them all back into the fridge. Last time he’d hardly touched any – they could just have a bowl of the rice mixture – there was veg in that.

  Fay lit a cigarette, feeling restless. She hated waiting about. When another half hour had passed, she sent another message. Eating on my own, am I? He replied after a couple of minutes. Soz. call cab now.

  Fay ground out her fag end and emptied the ashtray into the bin. What happened to leaving in five? And where was he that he needed a cab from? It was nine on a Friday – he might wait ages and she’d had too much to drink to pick him up.

  Where are you?

  This time the gap was much longer.

  stag

  Fucking terrific. She was slaving over a hot stove and he was getting hammered in the grottiest dive in Ramsgate.

  Her fingers rattled out the answer on a wave of annoyance. Another time then.

  Cory was already online.

  Chill x be there soon

  She’d turned the food off and was sitting with her wine, gazing unseeingly at Newsnight, when the doorbell rang. Cory lolled in the porchway, grinning dopily. ‘Don’t be like that,’ he said, swaying
slightly. ‘I’m here now and I want to give you a big cuddle …’

  He lurched towards her and draped his arms across her shoulders. ‘You feel nice,’ he mumbled into her neck.

  Fay removed his hands and stepped back.

  ‘Go home, Cory. I’m not in the mood.’

  He gave another inane grin. ‘You wanted to see me.’

  ‘I wanted to see you at eight when you said you were coming. Not now, when you’re roaring drunk. Got back to your friends in the pub.’

  He moved forwards again, hugging her clumsily. ‘Don’t be all– let me in!’

  ‘No. We’ll do it some other time.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to be late …’ He giggled. ‘I got a bit involved,’ he said with difficulty. ‘I had one, and I got the flavour … but I’m here now. And I’m hungry!’ He grinned again, looking pleased with himself. ‘Let’s go and have dinner!’

  ‘I don’t want you here like this.’ Fay heard her voice, remote and icy.

  ‘Goodnight Cory! Sling your hook.’

  She shoved him away from her and pushed the door shut, registering the hurt surprise on his face, seeing him frown. He raised his voice. ‘Fay, don’t do this–’

  ‘I love you.’ Cory began hammering against the oak door as she walked away down the hall. ‘Come on Fay!’

  He carried on thumping the door for a few moments longer. ‘Fuck you then!’

  Fay went back into her kitchen and sat down heavily, with her head in her hands. ‘Fuck you right back!’ she said. Before she began to cry.

  Chapter 25

  Amy had wound herself up into another strop.

  Roz heard the slam of the front door before her daughter stalked into the kitchen and dropped her school bag loudly on the table. Her voice was loaded. ‘I gather you’re having trouble with the beautiful white truth again!’

  Roz straightened up from unloading the washing machine and looked at Amy, who glared.

  ‘What are you talking about?’