Hens Reunited

by Lucy Diamond

  She leaned across the table and kissed him. Several times. ‘Wiles like that, you’re wasted in the NHS,’ she told him throatily. ‘Ever thought about working as a journalist?’

  ‘Nah,’ he replied. ‘But I have thought about working on a journalist …’

  She kissed him again, laughing. Several more times. She felt giddy and excited, tingling all over with anticipation. He’d come all this way to find her, he’d wheedled and wangled, he’d pulled strings to get her.

  ‘I looked for you in the hospital last week, you know,’ she told him between kisses. ‘Then I tried to write you a note, but I couldn’t get the words right. I wanted to say sorry. What I did – it was horrible. This job – it’s not good for me any more. I know that now.’

  He looked into her eyes. God, he was so lovely. ‘Ever thought about relocating?’ he asked. ‘I’ve heard the best thing about being a writer is that you can work anywhere … even up north.’

  She flushed. ‘I’ve always wanted to write a novel,’ she said. ‘Maybe I should just take the plunge and leave …’

  He held her hand. ‘Maybe you should.’

  Was this really happening? It was all so, so romantic. And then she was kissing him again, and …

  ‘Blimey, Georgie, don’t eat the lad,’ came a voice just then, and Georgia turned to see Malcolm, her snapper for the day, there with his camera. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of their flushed faces and their hands tangled together on the tabletop. ‘Cor, is this the story, then? Showbiz girl about town falls for her prize-winner? Fatal attraction at the Wolseley?’

  Georgia exchanged a glance with Owen. ‘Something like that,’ she said. ‘But we’re keeping that bit private, all right?’

  Malcolm winked. ‘Got it. Are you ready for your close-up, then, darlings? And … smile!’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Back for Good?

  Saturday, 21 June 2008

  He looked out of place in the cottage, Jake, as he ducked to enter the low doorway and go into the living room. He was too handsome – high-definition handsome – with his hair in a different style so that it flicked over one eye in an insouciant sort of way, and his clothes definitely a step up from Primark. He smelled different too. Back when they’d been together, he’d smelled of Adidas deodorant, Fahrenheit aftershave and, frequently, sex. Now he smelled rich, of fame and Hollywood castings, of money, money, money.

  He was looking around politely. ‘So … have you bought this place, then?’

  Was he looking down his nose at her, at the cottage? It was hard to tell. Seen through his eyes, it was probably poky and dismal. He probably wasn’t used to being in such a small room, after the all-star lifestyle he’d been leading for the last year. It must seem like a cupboard to him.

  ‘No, just renting,’ she said. And then, bluntly, because she didn’t want to put it off any longer, she scooped up her little daughter and said, ‘This is Iris.’

  This is Iris. Like there was any other baby in the room, any chance of him not realizing who the small person on the rug had been all along.

  Iris was squawking because she wanted to get back down to the plastic stacking pots she’d been banging together for the last ten minutes, her chubby arms flailing, her eyes mutinous.

  ‘She’s tired,’ Alice said, plopping her back down again, feeling a needling irritation that Jake hadn’t said anything, that she’d felt she needed to defend her daughter.

  He crouched down. ‘She’s gorgeous,’ he said softly. ‘Hello, Iris. Hello little one.’

  It choked her up to see him talking to Iris, and her eyes swam with tears suddenly. There they were, father and daughter, looking at one another for the first time. It was just so …

  ‘Ow!’ said Jake, recoiling. ‘She just whacked my nose!’

  Iris gave a chuckle. ‘Ba, ba,’ she said conversationally, waving the pink plastic beaker in mid-air.

  ‘Iris!’ Alice said, coming to kneel next to Jake. ‘Gently with that.’ She felt mortified. Jake was going to think his daughter was a right biffer now. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s doing.’

  But he was smiling. ‘Cheeky monkey,’ he said, tickling her under the chin. ‘Are you bashing Daddy, hey? Are you bopping Daddy on the nose?’

  Iris’s face lit up in a toothy beam and she gurgled at the tickles. Alice had a lump in her throat. He’d said ‘Daddy’! He’d actually used the word ‘Daddy’! And he was talking to her properly, as if he’d known her for months, unlike some of the blokes you saw, who seemed nervous of babies, as if they would break them just by speaking to them.

  ‘I bought you some things,’ Jake was saying to Iris now. ‘I did! Some jim-jams.’

  ‘Bo,’ Iris said conversationally.

  ‘Yeah, bo, exactly,’ he replied. ‘You are so cute, you know. Nearly as cute as your mum.’

  He grinned up at Alice and she felt as if her heart was melting. Nearly as cute as your mum … Oh! But she had to take it with a pinch of salt, of course. She must. A whole bag of salt. Once a liar and a cheat …

  ‘I’ll leave you two to get to know each other,’ she said, feeling sniffly and sentimental. ‘I’ll just make you a coffee, Jake.’

  Biting her lips together so that he couldn’t see the happiness that was flooding across her face, she turned and went through to the kitchen. She filled the kettle, humming. He liked his coffee milky with one sugar, she remembered. And now here she was, making him a coffee with one sugar again, as if the year without him had passed in the blink of an …

  She leaned forward and stared through the window at the sleek silver Mercedes she’d just noticed parked outside the cottage. A fat-necked bloke in shades was reading the newspaper in the front seat. Oh God. Was it the press? Had they followed him here?

  ‘Jake?’ she called. ‘Jake – there’s a car outside. Do you think—?’

  He cut in before she could finish. ‘Oh, it’s just Jed,’ he replied airily. ‘He dropped me off here.’

  ‘Oh,’ Alice said, getting down a couple of mugs and spooning coffee into both. Her hands were shaking. ‘But … why is he still there? Have you got to rush away somewhere?’ She felt shattered at the thought. So this was a flying visit, after all, then. Nothing more. No Happy Families. No Happy-Ever-After. She should have known. ‘You’re welcome to stay as long as you want to,’ she added quickly, trying to sound casual. But she found herself clutching the worktop as if hanging onto it for dear life while she waited for his answer. Stay, stay! she wanted to shriek. Don’t rush away – you’ve only just got here! And we’ve been waiting for you for so long!

  ‘Well …’ He came into the kitchen with her and almost made her jump with his presence. God, he was so handsome in that ever-so-slightly dishevelled sort of way. Rumpled, as if he’d been lounging around having sex all morning, before throwing on a pair of jeans and shirt to come and see her. Don’t think about that, Alice.

  ‘Well, to be honest,’ he said, with disarming frankness, ‘I wasn’t sure what sort of reception I’d receive. I didn’t know if you’d throw crockery at me or something, once you clapped eyes on me. Not that I’d have deserved any less, of course – the way I treated you was so atrocious …’

  She blushed as he stepped nearer. The kitchen felt warm and he was just a fraction too close for comfort. Deliberately, no doubt. That expensive cologne was making her feel dizzy. ‘I would never throw crockery at you,’ she said softly, not quite able to raise her eyes to look at him.

  ‘You’re so lovely, you’d never throw anything at anyone,’ he agreed, and placed a hand over one of hers. ‘Alice, I can’t believe I’m standing here with you. You look amazing.’

  She opened and shut her mouth but no sound came. She felt swoony and weak from his words. Come on, put up a fight, at least, a voice chided in her head. Don’t just fall back into his arms as if nothing’s happened! ‘Jake, I …’ she began falteringly. ‘I missed you,’ she said. Did that sound desperate? She knew he didn’t li
ke desperate or clingy. She pulled away suddenly as the kettle reached boiling point, hissing out plumes of steam, then subsided. ‘But anyway,’ she said, not wanting to plunge any deeper into the subject. Not yet. She didn’t feel ready to go there yet. ‘Anyway. Coffee?’

  ‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘No sugar for me, thanks.’

  Her hand had been on the sugar packet in the cupboard and she let it go, feeling as if the world had tilted on its axis. Oh, right. She wondered fearfully if Kenco instant would still do him, or if he only drank the real stuff these days. Probably only ever saw lattes or cappuccinos with perfect froth and a dusting of chocolate powder. ‘Um … is instant okay?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, anything,’ he said carelessly. ‘I’ll just go and send Jed packing, shall I? Tell him he can have a wild night out in Yeovil or somewhere. Yeah?’

  She smiled. So Jake was staying. That was good. That was really good. ‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘You tell him.’

  Somehow the time just passed. She’d worried the conversation might be stilted, awkward – because, really, what did she have to talk about other than Iris and life in the village? – but it flowed between them with barely a moment’s silence. He was full of stories about celebrities he’d met, places he’d been, funny moments on set (thank goodness he didn’t ask her if she watched the show) and plans for the future.

  ‘I think everything’s opening up ahead of me now,’ he told her. His face looked almost boyish with the excitement, and she could see the light of optimism in his eyes. ‘Hollywood, I mean. The big time. I’ve been to a few castings over there, got a few studios sniffing around after me, according to Jed. This could be it, Alice. This could be what I’ve always dreamed about.’

  She was pleased for him – she couldn’t not be when he looked like a kid who’d been promised his first Chopper bike – but at the same time, she could feel him slipping away from her; she felt a gulf opening up between them. Because, of course, there was no competition. The domestic life she was living in the quietness of the countryside versus the tits-and-teeth world of Tinseltown. No contest.

  A while later, Iris went to bed in the cute shortie pyjamas Jake had bought for her (Baby Dior no less. Baby DIOR!), and once Alice had settled her, she came back downstairs to discover that Jake had opened one of Jen’s bottles of wine and was pouring them each a glass. He drank half of his in a single gulp, smacking his wet lips afterwards. ‘I needed that,’ he said, and had another huge mouthful.

  ‘Must have been a strange few days,’ Alice said, watching him. He did look jaded all of a sudden, as if he hadn’t slept for a while. His eyelids had a bruised tinge about them.

  He nodded and pulled out his phone. ‘Sorry – just need to check in with Jed quickly,’ he said.

  ‘No problem. I’ll make us some food.’

  Alice retreated into the kitchen and made them a Spanish omelette and salad. She was conscious of how small the cottage was, and how Jake had dined in all the best London restaurants recently but was now eating his tea from a tray on his lap, crammed into her tiny living room. Still. He didn’t seem to mind – he was tucking in with gusto, drinking and eating quickly as if he were half-starved.

  ‘Oh, proper food,’ he said after a few minutes, topping up his wine glass – blimey, the bottle was empty already – and wiping his mouth. ‘This is so nice, Alice, eating proper food after posh hotel stuff, all with jus and coulis and served in little towers so that you spend ages fiddling around with the stuff before you can actually get any of it in your gob …’

  Alice looked down at the chipped china plate she was eating from, the mismatched cutlery, and felt a pang of longing. ‘Oh, I dunno,’ she said. ‘I always quite liked the posh places we went to in London. Seeing how the other half live, and all that.’

  He turned to her, his eyes slightly glazed from the wine. ‘Then I shall take you there again. To all of them, each in turn!’ he declared. He leaned over and grabbed her hand, almost sending his glass toppling. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Well …’ Well, we’ll have to sort out a babysitter, obviously, was the first thing that sprang to her mind. But that was probably a deeply unsexy, sensible sort of thing to actually say. ‘Sounds wonderful,’ she replied instead, although she felt as if she were betraying Iris in some way. ‘And if we go there for lunch, we could take Iris too,’ she added boldly.

  He seemed to deflate at the mention of their daughter but nodded. ‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Why not?’ He swallowed the last of his wine. ‘Mind if I open another?’ He stopped himself. ‘Have you got another, rather?’

  Alice nodded. ‘Help yourself,’ she said, but wished he wouldn’t. She wished he would stop now. Merry and jovial, fine, but he was necking the booze alarmingly fast. Too fast. She didn’t want to go all prim and virtuous on him – it wasn’t as if she didn’t like a drop herself – but at the same time, she wanted to be able to talk to him properly without him being pissed.

  Maybe he was just nervous. That was probably it. He was nervous, and needed a bit of Dutch courage. All the same, she watched him fill his glass and it made her feel stone-cold sober to see him do so.

  ‘You know,’ he said, as he sat down next to her again, ‘if I do get one of these Hollywood jobs, you should come out there with me. You and Iris. What do you think?’

  I think you’re drunk, she wanted to say. But she smiled even though her insides were churning with disappointment. ‘Sounds great,’ she said lightly, not meeting him in the eye.

  By half ten, Alice was done in. The whole build-up to Jake’s arrival, the adrenalin and whirl of emotions she’d felt as he’d stepped back into her life, the confusion and doubt that had seeped through her during the evening … she was exhausted. Jake didn’t seem to have noticed it was dark outside. He was still chatting away, his eyes brighter now that he’d eaten, his face more animated and relaxed.

  Oh, Jake. It felt so natural to have him by her side again, but he had changed. He seemed harder, somehow. Spikier. She couldn’t imagine ever feeling as if she were his equal again, now that he had his film-star haircut and expensive clothes. Mind you, she had never felt his equal even when they first got together; she’d always been in his shadow, always felt in his thrall.

  But what had she expected? That he’d walk in here untouched by his fame and money, the same affectionate Jake, the same horny, couldn’t-take-his-hands-off-her Jake? This seemed like a cloned copy of her husband. A badly cloned copy. His voice had become a shade more London, his look had become sharper, classier … and somehow his normalness had vanished.

  Maybe she was being unfair.

  ‘Alice? You look very faraway there.’ He put a hand on her arm and she jumped at his touch.

  ‘Me? No, I’m …’ She felt goosebumpy as he leaned closer. Was he going to kiss her?

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he went on, not seeming to notice that she’d spoken. ‘Why did I ever let you go, Alice?’

  The big question. Yes, why, Jake?

  ‘I must have been mad,’ he said, tracing a finger very slowly down the side of her face. ‘Stark, raving mad. But I’ve come to my senses, Alice. I really have.’

  He smelled strongly of wine. Alcoholic fumes were pouring from his mouth with every word. Don’t think about that, Alice.

  ‘You have?’ she said, feeling shivery at the way he touched her skin.

  ‘Mmmm,’ he said. And now his palm was cupping the side of her face and he was drawing her in towards him. His mouth met hers and he kissed her. Gently at first, then harder and more passionately.

  She pulled away. ‘Jake, I—’ Her heart was hammering and she felt giddy, unsure of herself.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. His mouth was wet from the kiss, his pupils huge pools of darkness. ‘I’ve drunk too much and I couldn’t resist you sitting there, so lovely and perfect.’

  She wanted to cry. This was all going wrong. Why was it only now he was calling her lovely and perfect? Why hadn’t she been lovely and perfect enough for him
to resist getting tangled up with Victoria? The worst thing was, she didn’t even believe him. She looked at him and felt let down.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said, trying to make it clear that it wasn’t an invitation. She needed space to think straight, without him drunkenly pawing at her knickers. ‘I’ll get you a blanket and pillow. You’ll be all right on the sofa, won’t you?’

  The next morning, Iris woke with the dawn as usual and Alice took her into bed with her. She’d barely slept, listening out for Jake’s tread on the stairs – would he come up and try to get in bed with her? – but then, when it became clear he wasn’t going to attempt anything of the sort, she’d tossed and turned, feeling utterly thrown by the whole encounter.

  Jake was back. Jake had kissed her. Jake had talked all sorts about life in LA together and dinners in expensive restaurants. So why – WHY – didn’t she feel happier? Why wasn’t she snogging the face off him, overjoyed at his return?

  It just didn’t feel right. Something about him jarred with her. She couldn’t imagine how they’d ever fitted together as a couple in the first place now. She certainly couldn’t imagine how they’d fit together in the future.

  But … he was Iris’s dad! So surely if he was talking about trying again, she ought to give it a whirl? Maybe in time they’d click back into their easy intimacy. Maybe in time he’d prove his devotion again and she’d feel able to trust him.

  Time. That was what they needed. Time together, with Iris, doing normal things, getting used to each other again. But could she really bring herself to give up her life in this country for a fresh start in the States with Jake?

  ‘I just don’t know, baby,’ she murmured to Iris, tracing her daughter’s eyebrows as they lay together in the bed. Iris gurgled a reply and grabbed one of her own feet to chew.

  ‘Hungry, hmmm?’ she said, stroking Iris’s little body. Bless her, she looked so cute in the pyjamas Jake had bought her. She wondered if he’d chosen them himself or if some dogsbody assistant had been sent to buy them.