But I Said Forever

by Jennifer Gilby Roberts

  “Sorry I said that about James,” Lauren says, poking the sofa with her foot. “I’m sure he gets enough germs to be healthy.”

  What an odd apology.

  “I’m sorry too,” I say. “Carly’s right, we have to start talking things through in a rational manner. It’s just that I’m under a lot of stress.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I give her shoulder a dirty look.

  “All right, I think I have it,” Carly says, and we both turn to look at her. “Lauren, you know how you feel about people misquoting song lyrics?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s how Brittany feels about dirt.”

  “Oh.”

  Lauren turns to me. “I’ll clean up before you get home in future.”

  Goodness, remind me never to sing in front of her.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’ll... try not to hold you to my standards. Maybe I do go a bit overboard sometimes.”

  “Sometimes?”

  Carly shoots her a warning look.

  Please let her find a job soon. Otherwise, I think we may actually kill each other.

  “Lauren, how about you clean up a little now?” Carly says. “And Brittany, you can help me with tea while she’s doing it.”

  I obediently follow her into the kitchen and start getting plates out.

  “How did the two of you become friends?” I can’t help asking. “You’re so different, and I know she drives you crazy half the time too.”

  “I will admit I liked her a lot more when we weren’t sharing a house - let alone a room.” Carly shakes her head. “But I admire a lot about her: she’s tough and brave and incredibly loyal to her chosen few. Believe me, if she’s on your side, she will move mountains for you.”

  I suppose I’ll have to take her word for it, because there’s no way Lauren is going to feel moved to put herself out for me.

  I get home two days later to find Lauren painting James’s toenails hot pink. I consider objecting, but he seems to like it (and, crucially, isn’t trying to eat the polish) so I hold my tongue.

  “Don’t freak out, but there’s been a bit of an accident,” Lauren says.

  My insides instantly clench. “What sort of accident? Is James okay?” I hurry over and drop to my knees beside him.

  “He wasn’t even here, no one was. One of the kitchen cupboards fell off the wall. Carly’s cleaning up the mess now, but we’re all going to have to chip in for some new cups, unless you want to spend the next however long drinking out of bowls.”

  I take a few slow breaths in an effort to ease the tension inside me. James is okay and a few cups won’t bankrupt us. Nothing to panic about.

  “I’ll just check on her.”

  “Watch your step; there was glass all over the floor.”

  I head over and ease open the door. Carly is tipping the contents of the dustpan into a plastic tub.

  “I think the floor’s clear,” she says, wiping her forehead on her sleeve. “But I want to run the vacuum over it before James comes crawling in, just in case there are any splinters.”

  “Let me. You’ve done enough.”

  Carly shakes her head. “Brittany... there’s been a casualty.”

  “I’ll pick us up some cheap cups tomorrow.”

  “No, I mean... Well, you know what else was in that cupboard.”

  I look at the gap on the wall where the cupboard used to be, and suddenly feel freezing cold. I get such a chest pain I actually wonder if I’m having a heart attack. “My cake?” I whisper.

  “A vase fell on it and squashed it,” Carly says, showing me the plate.

  I stare at my second greatest creation, the representation of countless hours of hard work. It’s ruined.

  I burst into noisy, ugly, gasping sobs. All the stresses of the last few months - even the ones I hadn’t admitted to - hit me all at once like a tidal wave, and I go under. I can’t do this; I can’t cope. I should never have tried to change my life. My dad is right; I was only ever meant to be a housewife. The real world is all too much for me.

  Carly wraps her arms around me. “Brittany, I’m so, so, sorry, I don’t know what happened. Maybe I overloaded it - I should never have put all the glass wear in one cupboard like that...”

  “Actually, it was probably my fault,” Lauren says from the doorway. She shifts James on her hip. “I stuck my hand weights on top. This house is so small there wasn’t anywhere else to put them. I’m sorry.”

  I pull out of Carly’s embrace and turn on Lauren. “Of course it’s your fault; it’s always your fault. All you’ve done since you arrived is ruin my life.”

  Lauren straightens up. “Look, I’m sorry about your cake, but that’s not fair. Who took care of James for you? I did a damn good job of that. Watch your nanny cam if you don’t believe me.”

  I grab James from her - too roughly - and he starts to cry. “Just get out of my sight.”

  I turn away from her and see Carly shooting her a look.

  “I’ll go shower,” Lauren says, and sweeps out of the kitchen.

  I soothe James, snivelling quietly into his hair.

  “I know Lauren can be a bit thoughtless, but she’s not vindictive,” Carly says.

  “I know,” I say, now feeling ashamed as well as devastated. “I’m sorry, I just... can’t take this.” I sit down on a kitchen chair, hugging James close. “That cake was my escape from the pressure and the fear - and my hope that I was capable of making something of my life. I worked so hard and now it’s ruined.”

  Carly brings over the plate. “It’s only one side that’s squashed. I’m sure you could rebuild it.”

  I wipe my eyes on a tea towel. “I suppose I could, but not in one evening. The craft fair is tomorrow.”

  “I could help. There must be basic stuff I could do.”

  I shake my head. “It’s against the competition rules. It has to be all my own work.”

  “All-nighter?”

  “I honestly don’t think I could keep going. I feel wiped out.”

  “We have coffee.”

  “I can’t stand it, I’d never get enough down.”

  “Energy drinks?”

  “Would they be enough?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  We look at each other across the table. I swallow hard. I sense this is a defining moment in my life.

  “Could you look after James for me?” I ask. “I know it’s a lot to ask when you’ve already had him all day, but...”

  “I’ll manage. I’ll walk him round to the shop now and find you a caffeine supply.”

  “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Okay. I can do this.”

  We both stand and I kiss James and pass him over. His little face goes red and he reaches out for me, mouth opening in a howl. The look of betrayal on his face is agonising. I start to reach for him.

  “Come on, Jam Jam,” Carly says firmly, “let’s get your coat on. We’re going for a nice walk.”

  “Carly...”

  “He’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe I should...”

  “No. One bedtime without Mummy won’t harm him and won’t stop him loving you, I promise. You can shower him with affection tomorrow.”

  She whisks him out before I can say more. And I try to force down a flood of guilt, fear, stress and exhaustion and find the strength to fix my broken creation before morning.

  Chapter 19

  The day of the craft fair dawns bright and clear, but cold. I know, because I see it through blurred, gritty eyes.

  But I’ve done it; I’ve mended the cake. I feel like I’m about to fall over and I’ve got worrying heart palpitations from the vast quantities of caffeine I’ve consumed, but I’ve done it. I’m sure I’d feel a massive sense of achievement if my brain and body were still connected.

  Lauren pads into the kitchen, yawns and heads for the coffee pot. “You get it fixed?”

  “Yes.” I rub my eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. I didn’t me
an to hurt you.”

  “Yeah, you did. But you’ll have to try a lot harder than that if you want to succeed.”

  I look at my feet, simultaneously relieved and ashamed.

  “Where does it need to go now?”

  “Er…” I search my fuzzy memory. “I’ve got the piece of paper on the table.”

  Lauren retrieves it. “Right, I’ll get it delivered.”

  I start. “It’s fine, I’ll take it.”

  “No, you won’t. Look at your hands - they’re actually shaking. How much of that stuff did you drink?”

  “Oh… six cans.”

  “It’ll be top down on the pavement before you can say Quidditch. Go to bed and leave it to me.”

  “I…” I break off when I realize I don’t have the mental energy to protest. “Thanks.”

  “No worries.”

  James and I arrive at the fair much later than intended, due to a spaghetti incident that required a lot of cleaning up. I’m on pins as I navigate the jammed car park, trying to find a spare space. I finally get one at the furthest possible point from the fair. We might as well have left the car at home and walked. I had no idea the fair would be so popular.

  I put James into his pushchair, load up the nappy, bottle and food bags and start to make my way towards the fair. After about 100 metres, I have to go back because I’ve forgotten to lock the car. Then I have to go back again because I’ve left the baby wipes inside it. By this time, I’m actually sweating with nerves despite the chill in the air.

  Finally, we make it to the entrance. The fair is well underway and there’s a crowd outside. It’s being held inside a connecting horseshoe of marquees. The air inside smells of slightly damp canvas, instantly taking me back to the traumatic camping holidays of my childhood. The pushchair bumps along the uneven ground as the crowd inches forward, exclaiming over lovingly hand-painted signs that I currently have no time for. James repeatedly removes his woolly hat and drops it over the side. I pick it up as fast as I can each time, but people still tread on it. As we move further inside, the temperature increases and I finally deem it warm enough to stuff the hat into the pushchair’s pocket, bringing that particular stress to an end.

  The food displays prove to be in the last but one marquee and it feels like hours have passed by the time we reach it. As the crowd crawls inside, I take deep breaths. Zack and Penny both said that the prizes go to professionals. If a lot have entered, the chances of even getting an honourable mention are slim. I should just be proud that I worked hard and created something I was happy with, and be inspired by the other designs.

  I approach the table where the cakes are. I see Zack standing there, looking dashing as ever, only this time in jeans and a well-worn Fair Isle jumper. He pulls a face as I approach.

  “Bad news, I’m afraid,” he says. “None of us got an honourable mention this year.”

  “Oh.”

  I busy myself getting James’s hat out again, blinking back tears. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so disappointed in my entire life. Not even when Joanna Murray was chosen to play Mary in the school nativity play instead of me. I cried for a week over that.

  “Oh, well,” I say, forcing a smile. “It’s the taking part that counts, isn’t it? And the having fun. I’m sure the winning designs are brilliant.”

  “Definitely.”

  I push the pushchair up to the table, feeling the beginnings of a headache. James gives Zack a big, slightly-toothy grin. Zack reaches down and tickles him, making him squeal.

  “Do you mind if I get him out?”

  “Of course not.”

  As Zack unbuckles James, I turn back to the table. The first prize winning cake is simply stunning. The artist – there’s no other word – has crafted spider webs out of icing. I can’t imagine how many hours went into that. The second prize has gone to a stunningly realistic pumpkin. And the third prize winner is… mine.

  I stare at it in disbelief. My haunted house, with my name on a little card beside it and a little green piece of paper with ‘Third Prize’ tucked under the edge.

  I turn to Zack, who winks at me.

  “So,” he asks, “disappointed you didn’t get an honourable mention?”

  The breath I hadn’t realized I was holding comes out in a rush and I laugh. And squeal, and jump up and down. I did it! I actually did it! This is the best moment of my entire life.

  I hug Zack, who’s still holding James. And then, through a series of events I’m not quite clear on, I kiss him and he kisses me back. We’re kissing, in front of hoards of strangers, and it’s just... wonderful. The kind of kiss that a Disney princess would envy.

  Suddenly, I come back to my senses and feel horribly ashamed. I quickly extract myself from his arms and put James back into his pushchair for something to do. My cheeks are burning and I can’t look at Zack. I can’t believe I did that. I may be separated, but I’m still a married woman. I can’t go around kissing other men, least of all in public where anyone could see.

  What if it got back to Phillip? What would he say? What would he do?

  When I finally dare to look back at Zack, he’s gone rigid and is looking over my shoulder. I turn round and see Penny coming towards us with a pretty woman of around 30, who looks so much like her she must be her daughter.

  “Hello, Zack,” the daughter says, gazing at him.

  “Melissa,” he says stiffly. “Are you well?”

  “Not so bad. How about you?”

  “Fine.”

  With a glance at them, Penny draws me to one side. “Congratulations, Brittany!” she says. “I’m so glad they went for your cake in the end. There was quite a bit of argument, I understand, but you won through. You actually knocked one of the local businesses into fourth place!”

  “That’s amazing,” I say, hiding my trembling hands behind my back.

  “Actually, there’s someone around here who wants to meet you.” Penny looks around the marquee. “And now I can’t see her anywhere. It’s awfully crowded in here, isn’t it? I might get a drink. Would you like one?”

  “Yes, please,” I say. I glance at where Zack was standing, but he and Penny’s daughter have both vanished. I’m torn between wanting to look for him and hoping I can avoid him forever.

  “Was that your daughter with you?” I ask Penny, as we sip our drinks and I try to contain the mess that James is making with his snack.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  I hesitate. “And you both know Zack quite well?”

  Penny meets my eyes. “So do you, apparently.”

  I blush and drop my eyes to the tablecloth. “It’s not like that at all. That kiss was an accident and it certainly won’t happen again. I’m still married, though I’m getting divorced.”

  “I see.” Penny sighs. “Brittany… up until recently, Zack was my son-in-law. Melissa is his ex-wife.”

  I look up again. “Oh.”

  “I may be completely out of line to say this, but she’s been having second thoughts about the divorce. She’ll have taken him off to talk. I don’t know what’s going to happen there, but I’d stay out of it if I were you.”

  “I’m not in it,” I say, trying to fight the sinking of my heart. “Truly, Penny, there’s nothing going on.”

  “That’s all right then.”

  I turn to James and wipe his face with a napkin, my excitement over winning considerably dimmed. So far today I feel like a ball in a pinball machine; every other minute something knocks me up, down or sideways.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Penny waving vigorously at someone and I turn to see who it is.

  A capable-looking woman with short greying hair approaches. “This is Hannah, Brittany,” Penny says. “She runs Creative Cakes just outside Newquay and she was very impressed with yours.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I say shyly, fighting a strange urge to curtsey.

  Hannah grabs my hand and shakes it vigorously. “Brittany, it’s lovely to meet you. I was telling Penny ea
rlier how much I loved your cake. She says you’re the most talented student she’s ever had on one of her courses.”

  I glance at Penny, who grins encouragingly at me. My cheeks feel unnaturally warm. “That was lovely of her.”

  “Have you taken classes before hers?”

  “No, but YouTube and I spend a lot of evenings together. I’ve learned a lot in the past few months.”

  “It shows.” She smiles. “Anyway, I just wanted to congratulate you and pass on my card. We run advanced classes at our bakehouse to help cake designers develop specific skills and I thought you might be interested. All the details are on our website.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I must dash now. See you later. Bye, Penny.”

  “Bye.”

  “You should go,” Penny says. “Hannah’s a good teacher - you could learn a lot from her.”

  “I will,” I say, excitement flooding my veins again. “It sounds fantastic.”

  At least one part of my life is going well.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Lauren says over dinner that night. “We’re not exactly ideal housemates. You know, because you’re obsessive and I’m normal.”

  Not quite my take on the situation.

  “And you’re only going to move out when you get your divorce settlement.”

  “That’s the plan. And you will when you get a new job.”

  “Yeah, but things are slow on that front. How long is it going to take to sort things your end?”

  I sigh. “Goodness knows. Phillip’s contesting the divorce. He’s called several times and even had his mother send a letter demanding I go back, so I doubt he’s going to change his stance. I haven’t got any real evidence of what he’s been up to, so at this rate I may have to wait five years until I can get a divorce without his consent.”

  “What if you did have evidence? Like visual proof?”

  “I wouldn’t spread it about, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Why not? I would. But just him knowing that you have it would give you power. He couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t share it, so he’d probably be a bit more cooperative.”