She smiled again. ‘Four hundred and seventeen days.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I’ve been contemplating drinking again for at least sixty of those,’ Karen admitted. ‘I long for the escape it would give me.’
‘Would it be an escape do you think, or a trap?’
‘That, sir, is a very good question.’
‘I’d a good friend who drank. Years ago. But he used to say that the trick was to not to let your guard down. Alcohol is a patient bugger and can bide its time to bite you.’
‘He was right. It is pretty sneaky,’ Karen said. ‘It’s like I have two voices in my head. One is all woe is you if you drink and the other is saying, everyone preferred drunk Karen. She was a lot more fun.’
‘I think sober Karen is plenty fun,’ Bill said. ‘And unless I’m remembering things wrong, when I stayed here the last time, you told me that you didn’t like yourself when you drank. That your self-esteem hit record lows, back then.’
‘You’ve a good memory.’ She decided to change the subject and found herself getting involved, by asking, ‘What’s going on with you and Adam?’
‘It’s frustrating. Things were going so well, but I fucked it up. Excuse my language.’
‘You go ahead. I’m a dab hand at fucking things up myself.’
‘You heard about Jane?’ When she nodded, he continued, ‘He started off being pissed off at me for that. But pretty soon it was apparent that we have a lot of unresolved issues to sort through. I don’t think he knew how much anger he had inside him.’
‘For sleeping with his ex?’
‘No. For leaving him and his mum. He doesn’t understand how hard it was for me back then.’
‘What happened? I’m a good listener if you want to talk about it.’
‘I loved Mary when we married. But then I fell in love with Christian, a colleague in the university in Manchester I lectured at. It was such a mess. I don’t blame Mary for hating me for what I did to our marriage. I hated me. She couldn’t get beyond her vitriol for what I did. And for what I am. Her revenge was that she made sure she had Adam all for herself.’
From what Karen remembered from conversations with Rachel over the years, Adam’s mother’s revenge backfired. Because she didn’t end up with Adam either. What a mess.
‘What?’ Bill asked.
‘It’s just Adam ended up without both of you in the end, didn’t he? He was the innocent party in all of this, but still he has no mother and he’s only just reconnected with you. His head must be all over the place, trying to process it all.’
‘He won’t talk about his mother to me. But I know he’s in a world of pain right now.’
‘You are going to have to find a way to get him to open up. And maybe the only way that can happen is if you tell him the truth about what you went through back then.’
Bill looked at Karen and said, ‘If I promise to talk to Adam, really talk, will you promise to go to an AA meeting tomorrow? I’ll go with you if you like. Or I can watch the kids if that helps more.’
Karen reached over and took his hand to shake it, to seal the deal. And a spark of electricity made them both start.
‘Rubber soles!’ Karen said, pointing to her runners. ‘I’m wearing my yoga gear!’
‘Ah. That explains it,’ Bill said, raising one eyebrow. ‘Do you go much?’
‘Not enough. But I find it relaxes me when I do and I need to find ways to relieve stress that don’t include a bottle of Grey Goose.’
Bill laughed and said, ‘There are other ways you know.’
Karen felt herself blush, as her mind went to places she was sure it shouldn’t, with her friend’s dad.
‘I could give you a massage. I’ve been told I’m quite good.’ And the way he looked at her left Karen in no doubt that his mind had also gone to similar places.
She raised her eyebrows at him this time and for a second imagined herself lying naked on the floor with him leaning over her . . .
‘Turn around. Let me work on your neck and shoulders.’.
Sod it, she thought for the second time today. She swivelled her body around on the couch and shivered when she felt his hands begin to move, side to side, easing the muscles out, loosening them up. He then began to work on her two shoulder blades, nudging his fingertips around their circumference, working the muscles into compliance.
‘How does that feel?’
‘Glorious.’ She turned to thank him, but ended up bumping noses instead. She’d felt chemistry with him from the first moment they’d met earlier that year. Their eyes locked and she wondered what his lips would feel like on hers.
‘Adam,’ Bill whispered.
‘Adam.’ Karen agreed. She felt a connection with Bill, a friendship, a mutual respect. She would not risk that, or indeed hurting Adam, for the sake of a one-night stand.
The moment passed. The tension in the air relaxed and Bill continued working on her shoulders.
‘Thank you,’ Karen said, trying to stifle a yawn. She was exhausted and her eyes felt heavy with tiredness. ‘I think I’ll call it a night. The spare room is ready for you upstairs.’
Bill kissed her forehead and she went upstairs. That night Karen slept for eight solid hours, only waking when she heard Josh’s voice calling her the next morning.
‘One moment, darling,’ Karen shouted. ‘Go downstairs and I’ll be right with you to make you breakfast.’
Placing a bowl of cornflakes in front of Josh, she chopped up some bananas to go over the girls’ preferred cereal, Weetabix.
Once they were all eating their breakfast, she put the kettle on to make coffee. She realised that she felt completely rested. A full night’s sleep and she felt ready to take on anything this world might decide to throw at her. It was a welcome feeling.
Bill walked in, smiling at the children. ‘Good morning.’
‘Hi, Bill,’ Josh said, his mouth full of cereal.
Bill stood beside Karen at the kettle.
Josh shouted, ‘I’ve done my cereal, can I watch cartoons?’
‘Sure, darling,’ Karen replied. The children moved into the living room.
‘You need to go to an AA meeting,’ Bill reminded her.
‘And you need to find Adam.’
Then he leaned in and whispered, ‘Last night . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘For a moment, I thought we were going to . . .’
‘I know.’ Karen answered truthfully. ‘It was . . .’
‘Unexpected.’ Bill finished and she nodded in agreement. ‘But can I say something?’
‘You can say anything,’ Karen replied.
‘I think you are quite magnificent. And if you weren’t Adam’s friend, not to mention vulnerable right now, I might have kissed you.’
‘And if it wasn’t for all of those things too, I might have kissed you back.’
Bill reached over to touch her cheek, then said, ‘You are a good woman. You need to start taking care of yourself. Will you promise me that you’ll go to your AA meetings?’
‘I promise,’ Karen said. ‘Friends?’
‘Friends.’ He nodded.
‘But without the benefits!’ she teased and they both smiled. ‘Thanks Bill. I mean that.’ She stood on her tippy toes, to thank him with a gentle kiss on his lips.
‘Is there no man nor woman safe around you!’ A voice shouted.
They broke apart and turned to see Adam standing in the kitchen, Matthew in his baby sling, watching them with his mouth open.
‘Son,’ Bill said, his face stricken.
‘It’s not what it looks like.’ Karen had the urge to laugh. She knew that wouldn’t be a good idea.
‘Are you wise?’ Adam hissed at her. ‘You had my father’s lips locked on yours! Tell me how that wasn’t what it looked like.’
Karen couldn’t help it. She gave in to the giggles.
‘It’s not funny,’ Adam said.
‘It kind of is,’ Karen insisted. ‘Your fa
ce.’
‘I have the right to be annoyed!’ Adam said.
‘You are jumping to all the wrong conclusions. We’re just friends,’ Karen insisted.
‘I’ve only been back in his life a wet weekend and I’ve seen more than any son should have to! I can’t keep up with him.’
Karen shrugged and put a hand to her face again, when another bout of giggles threatened to attack her.
‘Son . . .’ Bill said again.
‘Dad, go home to Belfast.’
‘I’m going nowhere till we talk.’
‘This is ridiculous. Adam, leave Matthew here. And you two go for a walk, or a coffee,’ Karen told them. ‘That’s not a request. It’s an order. Listen to what your father has to say.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The free spirit in a yellow dress and a wasted life
Bistro West 156, Didsbury, Manchester
They walked to the bistro in silence, shoulder to shoulder yet miles apart. Each stealing a glance at the other, reluctant to be the one to start a conversation that they knew had to be painful.
Father and son sat facing each other, stirring their cappuccinos until their chocolate swirls disappeared into the milk froth. If only the unspoken words of anger that hung in the air between them could dissolve as quick, Adam thought.
‘Karen was lonely. I was just trying to help,’ Bill said, when their first cup of coffee was almost gone. He realised as soon as he spoke, that it had come out all wrong.
Adam wanted to reach over the table and grab his father by his throat. He pushed his chair back an inch and took a steadying breath. ‘I know Karen is lonely. She’s my friend. I spent the night there myself the other day, trying to help out. But here’s the thing, Dad, despite her loneliness I didn’t bloody well sleep with her!’
‘Neither did I.’
‘First Jane and now Karen.’ Adam shook his head in disappointment.
‘When you say it like that, it sounds bad.’
‘What other way should I say it? You slept with them both, didn’t you?’ Adam tried his best to keep his voice down but he felt so bloody angry.
‘I didn’t sleep with Karen. But if I had, it would be my business. Both women are single.’
‘You swear you didn’t sleep with Karen.’
‘I swear. But son, we are going to fall out a lot if you can’t handle who I am. There will be other women and men. I like sex,’ Bill said.
‘Well, that’s evident,’ Adam replied.
‘I told George we weren’t exclusive a few weeks ago, in case that’s what you are concerned about,’ Bill threw in, determined to find a way to make his behaviour better in Adam’s eyes.
‘What did he say about that?’
‘It was okay. We had an honest chat. I told him that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for a serious relationship. After Christian . . . .’ Bill paused. ‘Listen, I won’t have you thinking I did something underhand. I didn’t take advantage of Karen. As she told you, we’re friends, that’s all.’
‘Good,’ Adam said, finally satisfied. ‘So are you and George finished now?’
‘No. Nothing as dramatic as that. I like him. We both said we’d like to see each other again. We’ve just been busy lately, so haven’t managed to get together.’
‘He’s a good-looking man. He’s busy dating other men,’ Adam retorted and was delighted to see jealousy flash across his father’s face. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, as his mother used to say.
His mother. There she was again, invading his thoughts. He moved her aside for the minute and turned his attention back to his father. But he couldn’t do that, because she was mixed up in it all.
‘You said Mum made you leave. And I accepted that. But you were married for years before then. Help me understand, Dad. Cos my head is reeling with it all.’
‘Ask me anything,’ Bill said. ‘I’ve nothing to hide.’
‘Did you think about men as a young fella?’
‘Truthfully? Yes. But I thought it was just part and parcel of being a young man with raging hormones. Because the sight of a good-looking woman was just as likely to make me horny as a good-looking man.’ When Adam made a face, Bill laughed. ‘You asked!’
‘Did you date any man before my mother then?’
‘No. My first girlfriend, my first anything, was your mother. She was working the cafe, down on main street in Coleraine. It’s gone now, but it used to be the main place to hang out when we were kids.’
Bill remembered the day when he saw Mary for the first time. She was wearing a bright yellow sundress, with short sleeves and blue buttons down the front. Her skin was so olive-coloured, she looked almost Mediterranean. Certainly different from the other girls in the town, with her raven-dark hair. He watched her for hours on that first day, shyly working up the courage to speak to her.
‘I fell in love with your mother the first time I saw her,’ Bill continued. ‘She made me work for her love for a bit. Took me three attempts to persuade her to date me. But when we did . . . let’s just say there were fireworks. We couldn’t get enough of each other.’
Adam tried to picture his mother as a young girl in love, carefree. It didn’t match up with the dour-faced person she became, when he fought with her ten years ago.
‘We left Coleraine at the same time. First of all, we went to Queen’s University in Belfast. I studied Economics and History. Mary studied Art and Literature. She’s an accomplished artist.’ Bill said.
A memory, long forgotten nipped at Adam’s brain. He closed his eyes to search for it and saw his mother and him, sitting at their long kitchen table, painting together.
‘She used to draw stories for me,’ Adam said.
Bill nodded. ‘She was forever making up tales with you, the more fantastical the better. And then she’d paint them for you. My job was to staple them together when I came home from work. That way they were fashioned into a book. I’d love to see those again now.’
Adam remembered those books. One in particular with a dragon on the front with fire bursting out of its mouth. He’d loved that story, he was so proud of it. He wished he had it to show Matthew. Where did it go? He felt shame tug at his conscience now. Somehow or other over the past few years, he’d allowed himself to forget all the good times he’d shared with his parents.
He needed to understand exactly what happened between them. Maybe then he could understand his place in it all.
‘Before you got married, did you ever cheat on my mother? And just to be clear, I mean with either a woman or a man.’
Bill felt more hopeful, when he heard the glimmer of humour lacing Adam’s words again. ‘I swear that until Christian, I never looked at any one else. I loved your mother with all my heart and she was more than enough for me. For a long time too. We left Belfast after we graduated. But not before we got married in Coleraine. Your grandparents and aunts and uncles were all there. It was a celebration. A happy one.’
All of Adam’s early childhood memories were linked with Coleraine and their families there. Every year, for the summer, Easter and Christmas holidays, the three of them would travel home to Coleraine. ‘Home’ was what they always called it there, despite the fact that they’d lived in Manchester for years. But after his dad left, those holidays stopped too. He and his mother had gone back a few times, but it wasn’t the same without Bill. Then Mary’s parents had both died and they had less reason to go back, he supposed. So one year, they just hadn’t gone.
‘The lads brought me to Coleraine for my stag. Did I ever tell you that?’ Adam asked.
Bill shook his head. ‘Did you see any family when you were there?’
‘No, I didn’t. It wasn’t that kind of trip.’ Adam took another slug of his coffee and said, ‘Tell me a bit more about when you got to Manchester.’
‘Life was good there. We bought a house in Didsbury, you came along and Mary and I were besotted with you. Couldn’t believe how lucky we were to have a son. Mary became a
full-time mother by choice and I got a job in Manchester University, lecturing.’ He stopped for a moment and closed his eyes. ‘That’s where I met Christian.’
So that’s where he met him, Adam thought.
‘The attraction was instant. For both of us. I tried to stay away. So did he. But I couldn’t. One day, he came to my office and closed the door behind him. He walked over to my desk and I stood up. We kissed, without saying a word. And that was the beginning of the end for me.’ Bill’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Nothing else happened for a long time. Just that kiss to hold on to. But everything changed after that moment. It’s hard to explain, but have you ever been on a motorway where you missed the exit?’
Adam nodded. He’d done that only the previous week. ‘Pain in the arse, especially if the next exit isn’t for miles.’
‘Well, for me it felt like my life was a constant road trip on the M6 motorway, with no exits. I just kept on driving, doing my best to stay on the road, hoping that eventually I could find a way off.’
Adam thought that was the saddest thing he’d ever heard. He couldn’t imagine what that must have been like, living a lie for years.
‘We celebrated your first communion, your confirmation, your first day at high school. And I don’t want you think I was unhappy all of the time. Because I loved every day I spent with you, in our family. But each time another year would go by, I felt like I wasn’t living. I never forgot that kiss,’ Bill said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Adam said, and he meant it.
‘This trip down memory lane is not about that. You’ve nothing to be sorry about. The only thing that kept me going was you. I loved the bones of you. I suppose it was inevitable, but things between Mary and me started to falter. I fell out of love with her and she saw that in my eyes. So she pulled away from me. I think we both forgot that we used to be best friends, once upon another time. I’ve always regretted that I didn’t walk away after that first kiss. Maybe things would have been different for all of us then. But I was a coward.’
‘What were you scared of?’ Adam asked.
Bill sighed. ‘You have to understand what rural Ireland was like in the sixties and seventies. It wasn’t like it is now. There were no gays or lesbians. Out and proud that is. And certainly no bisexuals. It was a taboo subject, whispered behind closed doors. That stays with you. Always at the back of your mind.’
Cold Feet: The Lost Years Page 21