by Shaw, O. C
The meal is surprisingly pleasant. It seems the fact that we all have something to look forward to at the weekend makes us enjoy this last dinner together, and there is a lot of laughter for a change. They compliment me on the meal, and Ethan even insists on clearing the plates and serving the apple crumble and custard in the style of a silver service waiter, which makes us all laugh.
Greg and I had decided that we would give both boys a small amount of money I had managed to save to help with university, or whatever they chose to do, and both boys seem genuinely pleased when we present it to them at the end of the meal. Especially Ethan, who I think had always suspected we were disappointed in him for not following in his brother’s path. The money won’t go far but they know we’ve done our best, and when both boys take a moment to come into the kitchen and hug me as I wash the dishes, I feel my eyes mist. It’s a rare sweet moment.
That night, when Greg pulls me into his arms, I go as willingly as I ever have, wanting the good feeling of the evening to last a little longer. As his fingers trace my thigh and up to my breast I try to lose myself in the sensation, but my mind flickers to checking whether I’ve packed everything I need for the trip. Whatever he does, however and wherever he touches me, there’s just something missing. As he slides inside me I can feel initial friction from the absence of my own arousal, and it takes a few moments until it feels comfortable. I lie there in the traditional style, hating myself as he thrusts into me gently, wishing he would finish quickly, more concerned I’ll need to wash my hair again in the morning than about what’s happening in bed. I moan in the hope it will persuade him I’m enjoying myself and encourage him to finish, and then immediately feel guilty I’m not getting anything from it, wondering if it is somehow my fault. When he eventually comes it’s with the usual groan as he collapses over the top of me, crushing the air from my lungs. I push his body away from my own and quickly slip out of bed to clean myself up. When I finish we lie beside each other, him spooning me. I think I hear him whisper: “I love you” as I drift off to sleep, but I may have imagined it.
*****************
The morning after is frantic, with the usual family tension returned. It seems I have lost a ‘best shirt’ for Adam, Ethan has pulled the button off the black trousers he needs for his course, and Greg is pissed because the car only has half a tank of petrol in it. Despite all this I shed a tear as Adam hugs me goodbye, and stand in the road in my dressing gown, waving until they drive off out of sight and a car beeps at me from behind to get out the way.
“Mum, you’re so embarrassing,” Ethan says with a roll of his eyes as he watches me from the front doorway.
By the time I have showered, redone my hair, and pulled on my jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt top with a hoodie over it to keep me warm on the coach, Ethan is calling from downstairs to let me know he’s ready to leave for the course. I run down the stairs, and he looks visibly surprised as he takes in my appearance.
“You look different... you look good!” he amends with a note of surprise to his voice that betrays the compliment as backhanded. He collects himself. “No, I mean it, mum, you look really good, you’ve lost weight.”
I blush and glance down at myself. I guess I’m in more fitted clothes than my usual slouchy cardigans and my weight loss is really beginning to show.
“Oh, thanks,” I say, pulling him into a swift hug. “See you Monday night; I hope the course goes well. I love you,” I add.
“Yeah, and you,” he says, moving away, awkward with the open display of emotion. He’s so like his father, I think as I watch him struggle to say what he feels. He gives a wave over his shoulder as he walks down the path and away, and with that I’m alone. I feel a shiver of excitement thrill through my body, and I can’t really put my finger on what caused it – I’m just a bit demob happy, I guess. I go back upstairs to finish loading my gear into the large backpack I’m taking. The cab arrives perfectly on time to get me to work for my shift, and I leave the house without a backward glance.
Emma arrives at 1pm promptly with my dress, shoes and a sandwich for each of us. I pick at mine as we sit on the bench in the little garden attached to the surgery. I’ve been trying to avoid bread as part of my weight reduction scheme.
“You’re looking good, Lil,” she says, looking at me sideways as she tucks into a turkey sandwich.
I really don’t know where she puts it all and stays so slim, I think uncharitably as she finishes hers and eats the other untouched half of mine, immediately stopping myself and feeling guilty when I remember just how much this girl has done for me over recent days, weeks, hell, years, let’s be honest! And for God’s sake, the woman is having a baby; can’t I just be kind when she’s gone out of her way for me?
“Yeah, you’re the second person to say that today,” I finally acknowledge.
“Don’t tell me Greg actually paid you a compliment!”
“Don’t be silly,” I laugh. “Ethan told me I’d lost weight just before he left. I guess the gym is working.”
“It is, Lil, but you were always beautiful anyway, whatever size you were. You just never realised it.”
“You’re just my best friend and therefore obliged to love me whatever I look like – it’s part of the contract,” I counter. This is an old conversation, and one which I’ve always liked to deflect away from as quickly as possible. “So when are you picking up the new car?”
“This weekend,” she says, instantly buzzing with excitement. She has already informed me that they’ve found a car at the local Audi showroom that is second-hand but with really low mileage which she loves. There’s only the paperwork and insurance to sort out before it’s hers. “How about I come and pick you up in it on Monday evening when the coach gets in? I assume Greg isn’t?”
I can’t miss the slightly accusatory tone in her voice. She’s right, of course. It hadn’t crossed Greg’s mind to offer. I had been planning to get a taxi from the coach meeting point.
“That would be perfect, although I might be a bit muddy after the walk that day. Are you sure you don’t mind me getting into your shiny new car? I might make it dirty.”
“Hell no! Hey, I’m going to have a puking baby in the back soon, so I think we can cope with a bit of mud.”
I hug her as we say our farewells, and she makes me promise again to send her a photo of me in my dress, before I make my way back inside for the rest of my shift.
The rest of the time ’til 4pm drags at work, as I stare at the clock, watching the minutes tick slowly by. When one of the doctors tries to get me to start a patient search at five to four for anyone who has missed their flu jab, I abruptly and uncharacteristically tell him I don’t have time. He looks at me surprised, and I realise this is probably the first time I’ve ever said no to him. Why is it people really only notice me, or even look at me, when I do something unexpected? The rest of the time they just take me for granted. At 4pm prompt my taxi pulls up, and without a word to the others I grab my pack and head out the door.
“Good luck,” one of the other receptionists calls as she sees me leave. She had sponsored me, so she knows where I’m going. I’ve managed to raise £250 in total from other staff and a few of the regular patients, which isn’t bad. My family, in typical style, hadn’t given a bean. I don’t pause to talk to her, instead shouting out my thanks and waving over my shoulder in the same way Ethan had this morning.
I’m nervous in the cab on the short drive to the car park where we’re meeting the coach. As we pull in I can see a small crowd already gathered around the door of the coach which is waiting with the engine running. I pay the cab driver, giving him a small tip (I always have, I just think it’s the right thing to do, really) and hop out. The driver follows me, insisting he’ll carry my bag to the coach. I guess the tip thing pays for itself in the end after all. It’s all about karma. The coach driver takes the bag from the cabbie and stows it in the hold.
“Thanks,” I say again to the cab driver.
&nbs
p; “No problem,” he says. “Have fun,” he adds with wink before walking back to his car. I can’t remember the last time a man winked at me. Has a man ever winked at me before? I look over to the group standing by the coach door at the same time as Stuart is looking towards me. He waves and beckons me over. This is it, I guess, time to meet some of the other walkers. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves and walk over.
“Lily, great, you made it in perfect time. We’re just waiting for one more person, I think, and then we’ll be ready to go.”
“Annie?” I hazard a guess.
“Ha! Yes, how did you know?”
“Well she’s kind of unmissable, and I thought I’d have known if she was here already,” I say, squinting to look at the few heads I can see already sitting on the coach. He agrees, turning to the other people who are standing near him and chatting quietly.
“Guys, this is Lily. Lily, do you know anyone?”
I look at the group for the first time properly. There are about six of them. Pat, the only other woman, acknowledges me with a nod as I say,
“Pat and I use the gym a lot at the same time, um.” I scan the rest of the faces, who all look familiar, but I don’t know any names. “I’m not sure of anyone else’s names, sorry,” I say, flushing with embarrassment.
Stuart, sensing my discomfort and with the ease of someone who deals with people professionally, steps in quickly and introduces everyone; “This is Pat, as you know, Phil, Colin, Pete and Paul.” As he says their names I look at each in turn, and they nod and smile at me. I nod shyly back, wondering how the hell I’ll ever remember all the names. They look nice, sort of normal, and Pete particularly gives me a big smile. They don’t look like frightening fitness freaks, so with a bit of luck I’m not too out of my depth. I feel hopeful.
“Can we get this show on the road yet? It’s a long drive,” a voice demands from the top of the steps of the coach. I look up and feel my jaw drop. Bloody hell, it’s him, is my first thought. I haven’t seen him at the gym since the day he picked me up off the floor when the door slammed into my face. It hadn’t crossed my mind someone like him would want to spend his time on a walking trip. For the first time I have the chance to really look at him while he’s talking to Stuart and the others. I finally realise why he seems familiar. He kind of resembles Rob Lowe, which explains my adolescent physical response to his proximity I suppose, remembering the passion of my teenage crush. A closer look at the guy standing on the steps of the coach, and I can see a few small differences – a narrower jaw, slightly bigger eyes – but he’s as near as, damn it. As my gaze reaches his eyes I realise he’s looking straight at me, one eyebrow raised in a sort of ironic questioning yet knowing way.
“Well?” he enquires again, his eye still on mine. For a moment I’m not sure if his question is about whether we’ll soon be on our way or whether I find him pleasing to stare at. I flush, fearing the latter. His bright blue eyes bore into me, and for a moment I feel again like he can see straight into my soul. He finally looks away, back at Stuart, and I gasp a deep breath – I didn’t realise I had been holding it. The paralysis that had held while he looked at me had finally releases. How long had I been transfixed? I wonder.
“Nice-looking, isn’t he?” Pat whispers in my ear. I nod, flushing bright red again as I realise my gawping has not gone unnoticed.
“Bit like Rob Lowe,” I whisper.
“That’s what I thought!” Pat shouts with a shrieking laugh that has everyone’s heads swinging back round to look at us, including the Rob Lowe look-alike. His gaze fixes upon me again, and I giggle completely uncharacteristically. His eyebrow shoots up again, and I see a twitch of a smile play at the corners of his lips. His lips, I find myself gazing at the perfect Cupid’s bow. It’s only the fact Stuart is still speaking that means I manage to pull my eyes away this time.
“...one more, Annie,” I hear Stuart say.
“Is that her?” I hear Mr Abs say, as all our heads swing in the direction he’s looking. Sure enough, there she is, striding across the car park, untied hair billowing around her face and over her shoulders, looking more than ever like some catwalk model. Her long legs are encased in tight faded blue jeans, that showed every perfect contour, and a fitted leather jacket finishes the look. A collective sigh rises from the male members of the small group as she waves and hurries over. A quick glance at the Rob Lowe look-alike tells me he too is enjoying the show; the small smile I saw earlier is playing again on his lips. Stop looking at his lips, I tell myself crossly, ignoring the small spike of jealousy I felt when I saw him watching Annie. Three different pairs of hands offer to take her bag for her, which she graciously bestows on Stuart. Stuart immediately hands it to the driver, who rolls his eyes and moves to pack it onto the coach.
“Right, all aboard!” says Stuart with a grin, as he puts one arm around Annie’s waist and urges her forwards. The object of my crush has already retreated back inside the coach. When I finally mount the steps I find myself worrying who I’m going to sit beside and not paying attention to where I’m going. Oh my God, this is like school all over again, I realise, hating the insecurity. I step into the warm coach and scan the available seats. A long arm waves at me from about halfway down – Annie. I focus on her, ignoring anyone else who might be looking, as well as failing to notice a bag that has been left sticking out into the aisle. I trip, of course, and land nearly on Stuart’s lap. Of course HE has to be sitting beside Stuart.
“Hello again, Lily,” Stuart sniggers as I struggle back to my feet, apologising all the while.
“Do you think she’s safe to be on a walking holiday?” I hear the other guy say to Stuart as I move on down the coach. I’m mortified to hear them both chuckling at the prospect.
“Roomie, come and join me,” Annie trills loudly, thankfully distracting attention away from my blunder. All the men on the coach look at me with undisguised envy on their faces as I move to join her. There are actually enough seats available that we don’t need to share rows at all, but it seems too rude to not sit beside her having been invited, and frankly I’m just glad to finally be sitting down in my own seat.
“Thank God,” she whispers conspiratorially as I join her, “I thought I was going to have to fight Stuart off from wanting this seat,” she says with a wink. I laugh.
“Would that be so bad?” I wonder out loud.
“Hmm,” she says reflectively as she gives it some thought. “I think it’s more a case that we can’t make it too easy for them, now can we?” I smile, enjoying being included in the girly chat, despite it being well outside of my realm of experience.
“But you do like him?” I press.
“He’s not bad. Mr Right Now if not Mr Right, perhaps?” I laugh a little more loudly than usual. In the moment of silence that follows I wonder if perhaps I’m not just a bit relieved Annie seems to have her sights set on Stuart and not the man who looks like Rob Lowe. Must stop calling him Rob, I realise, before I do it to his face. Now that would be embarrassing. Nearly as embarrassing as mooning after a man who resembles my teen crush, I tell myself sternly. I am a 37-year-old married woman, for God’s sake; I need to start acting like it.
The coach is out of the car park and accelerating up the road as the on-board microphone system crackles to life.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the start of the Regency Gym three peaks challenge, in aid of the Emily Fisher Fund!” Stuart declares loudly and excitedly. There is a pathetic cheer from within the bus. “Oh come on,” he continues, “you can do better than that.” There is a slightly louder cheer this time, further enhanced by Annie doing a perfect wolf whistle. Stuart looks at her gratefully and gives her a wink. She blows him a kiss. I really envy that easy flirtatious way she has about her.
“Okay,” Stuart speaks again. “Our lovely driver and the kind donor of this coach for the weekend – Mr John James – has suggested we drive for a couple of hours until we get to the M40 and then stop for some food and a break. That sh
ould let some of the rush hour traffic die away a bit before we do the last stretch to the house – a donation again by the most benevolent Mr James Lattimer.”
I realise with a start that he’s looking at Rob Lowe. “James,” I breathe under my breath. “James Lattimer.” It fits him somehow, sounds upper-class. He definitely has a look of money to him – the sort of easy elegance that comes from never having had to worry about it, I think.
“Did you say something?” Annie asks me.
“No,” I say quickly, “just sniffing.” She looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
“Bloody hell, can everyone do that but me?” I ask, pointing to the offending eyebrow.
She laughs. “Why, who else can do it?”
Not willing to expose my fixation with Mr Lattimer, I mumble, “no one,” and she looks at me and laughs loudly again.
Everyone but us is cheering again, with more gusto this time, and John and James are waving their arms in recognition. I realise we’re thanking them for their generosity to the cause. After the cheer dies down, Stuart thanks us for our attention and reminds us we have a break in two hours before signing off. The coach quietens, with just a low conversational mumbling resuming around the seats.
“I think you and I are going to have the best time,” Annie says, looking at me intently.
“I hope so,” I say honestly, “I don’t get away much.”
“So Emma was telling me.”
“Was she! When did you speak to Emma?” I say, slightly surprised my best friend and my newest friend have been talking about me behind my back.