‘What’s with the luggage?’ Vin said as I dumped a large black bag next to my desk.
Since the infamous night several weeks ago, Marlowe was now living at her parents’ country retreat in the Cotswolds, an idyllic paradise in the English countryside, just two hours from the heart of London. And so we were embarking on a mini-break, away from the everyday stresses of the city. It would be a chance to sit around, in conversation, away from the clicking of keyboards and incessant bleeping of mobile phones.
‘I’m going to the Cotswolds with my friends for the weekend,’ I said. ‘I’m going straight from work so I had to bring my bag in case we ran over.’
‘Very nice,’ he said, still focused on his computer. ‘Love the Cotswolds. Bit pricey but great in the summer.’
‘We’re staying with Marlowe’s parents. They have this huge house with a tennis court and a pool, although I doubt we’ll get a swim this time of year.’
‘Thought they lived in Chelsea?’ he said, as he chewed down on his biro.
‘So you do listen to me?’ I said, surprised. ‘No. Well, they do, but this house is for weekends and holidays.’
‘Jeez…’ Vin said, exhaling loudly. ‘In the Cotswolds?’
I nodded.
‘Don’t they have a son for you?’ he said laughing.
I rolled my eyes as I sat down at my desk.
‘How is she now, your friend – Marlowe?’
‘She’s fine. Baby steps. She’s been taking some time out since… that night. It’s funny how nothing changes and then everything changes,’ I said, switching my computer on. ‘So, what’s the plan for today?’
I cleaned the whiteboard with a cloth to signal the end of the week and pulled out a marker pen to prepare for the next one.
‘I need you to start editing those charity photos that I did.’
I nodded, with maybe a hint of trepidation, knowing that I hadn’t been given such a level of responsibility before.
‘What?’ he said. ‘What’s that look for?’
‘You mean, get them ready for you to edit?’ I said, double-checking that I hadn’t misheard.
‘No,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘You do it.’
I stood looking at the memory stick and all it represented. It was more than an edit. It was blind belief in me.
‘If that’s okay, Jess?’
‘Yes, it’s fine, I was just confused because you normally edit them but… if you want me to do it, that’s fine.’
I transferred the images from his hard drive to my computer and watched as they popped up one at a time.
‘These are really powerful,’ I said. They were taken from the magazine’s clean water project, a series of black and white imagery documenting his time in Rwanda: women carrying water in large containers, children playing in the sprinklings of a new fountain.
‘Don’t ever let anyone accuse you of being frivolous because you work in fashion,’ he said. ‘There’s a lot of money in it and with that, a lot of influence.’
‘What was it like?’ I asked. ‘In Rwanda?’
‘Without sounding like a do-gooding wanker,’ he said, ‘it totally changed my life. Seeing what other people have to contend with when they wake up each day makes my morning commute look like a trip to Disneyland.’
‘Well, they’re incredibly moving,’ I said, slowly creating a shortlist for the editor to choose from.
‘Bit different from girls wearing dresses made from bubble wrap?’ He laughed. ‘Like I said before, work hard and you could go a very long way here, both personally and professionally.’
I studied a close-up picture of a little girl smiling, carrying fresh water in a large blue bottle. She was wide-eyed and beautiful. The expression on her face stayed with me for the rest of the day.
That evening I called Marlowe from the taxi to tell her that we were on our way. Together, we had achieved the unachievable. From all four corners of London we had arrived at the station on time and had departed Euston just after rush hour.
‘Are you sure your parents won’t mind us all staying?’ I said as I watched muddy pink pigs rolling in fields through the window.
‘Bit late to be asking that, isn’t it?’ Sean said from the back seat of the taxi sandwiched between Amber and Henry.
‘Not at all!’ Marlowe said, breezily down the phone. ‘I think they’d be glad of a new set of faces, to be honest.’
From what I could gather, her parents now spent their days relaxing in the gardens of their country home, a place I had been desperate to visit since I had seen the photographs from Christmas 2007. They still said things like ‘jolly good’ and, more importantly for us, still celebrated slightly older traditions like cocktail hour. I stretched my legs out in the footwell in front of me and looked out at the road as we sped on through. I made a mental list of everything in my head: my friends were well, my relationship was happy and to add a cherry on top of the already rich cake, I was desperately beginning to love my job at the magazine. As part of a new exercise that I had promised myself, I took a moment to be grateful.
We pulled up to the large wrought-iron gates that had been left open in anticipation of our arrival. I had told the others that it was just a short walk to the house but as we stood at the foot of the driveway I could see it was longer than the average street back in London.
‘Great idea to ditch the taxi, Jess,’ Sean said, dragging his case.
‘Can you stop moaning?’ I said. ‘I’ve never been here before. Just stop and look around you for a second…’
‘So, what did her parents do again?’ Henry asked, relatively new to the group and still piecing us all together.
‘Her dad was a journalist and writer,’ I said, ‘and her mum…’
‘Was the party girl of the Seventies. Apparently she once dated Jagger,’ Amber said, finishing my sentence before throwing her large bag over her shoulder.
After a steady walk up the driveway in which Sean moaned, Amber scrolled through her phone and I chatted to Henry, we eventually arrived. The large red brick house was decorated like a wedding cake with yellowy cream coving. I broke into a small jog as I saw Marlowe standing by the door. She smiled and waved at us, clutching a small mug of tea.
‘It looks like one of those pictures from the front of a biscuit tin,’ Henry said, slightly shocked. At that point Amber noticed Sean and Henry’s clothes, all burgundy, both knitted, twinning outfits in the setting sun.
‘What’s with the jumpers?’ Amber said, looking at them both.
‘This is what happens when you have the same dress sense – fashion happened,’ Sean said, drily.
‘Hi!’ Marlowe cried, running barefoot across the lawn. ‘I’m so glad you all came.’
‘Mars, this is Henry, I don’t think you two have met yet,’ Sean said, making the introductions.
‘Hi, I’m Marlowe,’ she replied, giving him a hug. ‘Make yourself at home. My dad’s out the back and he’s got the gin and tonics waiting.’
‘You look really well,’ I said as we walked up to the house.
‘I feel really well,’ she said, as I linked my arm through hers. She was wearing a smile that I’d not seen in months.
Once inside, we carried our bags up the wooden stairs to our room. I was sharing the attic with Amber, while Sean and Henry were led to the pool house.
I sat down on the fluffy white bed linen of our covers. ‘Double bed,’ I said, bouncing my knees on it.
She smiled. ‘Hurry up, Jess, I could murder a G and T…’
I began to sort out my toiletries bag and picked up my mascara wand to freshen up a bit. ‘Can I borrow your hairbrush,’ I asked, ‘I’ve forgotten mine?’
‘You know,’ she said, handing it to me, ‘I don’t know why we haven’t done this before. Why did we have to wait for something so terrible to happen for us all to get away together?’
‘I know,’ I said, ‘perhaps it’s just a way of reminding us not to take things for granted. It’s a shame it too
k something so drastic for us to realise it though.’
I smiled at her limply as I reapplied my mascara. I wondered if the guilt had hurt her too.
Having changed out of our work clothes and freshened up a bit, we walked down to end of the garden where Marlowe’s parents sat on sofas next to a pale blue swimming pool.
‘Jessica, it’s so nice to see you. It’s been far too long,’ her mum said as she got up to greet me. She wore a large cream floppy hat and light blue trousers. Marlowe’s dad handed me an overwhelmingly large glass of gin and tonic. It seemed she had put our chance meeting at the hospital out of her mind, and I let her.
‘Nice to see you again,’ I said, looking for a vacant seat.
‘Sit next to me on the sofa,’ she said, as the others seated themselves on the white wicker furniture around us.
‘I suppose she’s told you about the situation with George?’ she said, quietly, so that no one else could hear. Her small hands clutched a large glass of white wine, the contents swirling as she spoke.
‘Yes,’ I said. I was still unsure of the full story and didn’t want to put my foot in it before I’d spoken with Marlowe.
‘I know you may not see it, Jessica, but I believe they are truly meant to be together, and I’m her mother. I wouldn’t say it unless I meant it. I just think that the both of them got a little complacent with things. And it can’t be easy having young Elsa. I mean, I do my best to help them but it’s quite difficult with her father travelling with his writing.’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ I said as I peered down into my glass. ‘But I have offered to help a little more too. I don’t think they were the only ones who had got complacent. I could be accused of that too.’
She smiled at me and stared off vaguely into the distance.
‘So do you have a nice man at home too?’
‘I do,’ I said, smiling.
She took a sip of her wine. ‘I just don’t want to see her do anything stupid,’ she said. ‘Something she may later come to regret.’
I watched as she sauntered off with the cook to talk about the evening meal, leaving an opportunity for me to have a private chat with Marlowe.
‘So how are you?’ I said, pulling a chair towards her.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Pretty humiliated, but fine.’
‘Why are you humiliated?’
‘I just feel like a bit of a walking liability – as if I’m being watched all the time.’
‘People are just worried about you, Mars, that’s all.’
‘I know,’ she said, reaching for her glass of sparkling water. ‘It’s just bigger than that, you know.’
I put my hand over hers, which was resting on her knee. ‘I know,’ I said, gently.
‘I’ve been seeing a therapist twice a week and they said we’re okay to drop it down to just once.’
‘And how do you feel about that?’ I said.
‘I’m happy if they are. To be honest, until I get to the root of the problem there’s not a lot of point in talking about anything anyway.’
‘Have you spoken with George yet?’ I asked, tentatively.
She shook her head. ‘No. I just want to spend as little time in London as possible. You know, I’m pretty lucky having all of this, I may as well take advantage of it.’
‘I think you’re doing the right thing.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, waving to Elsa who was playing handstands on the grass with Henry and Sean. ‘He just doesn’t love me anymore.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said as she wrapped a grey cardigan around her.
‘I’ll be a divorcee… that’ll make my parents proud,’ she said, surprising me with a small smile. Or submission.
‘And as for this,’ I said, lifting my extremely large gin and tonic, ‘I don’t know how your parents manage to get anything done. I’d be in a permanent state of shit-faced.’
Marlowe laughed. ‘Tell Amber to go easy,’ she said. ‘I don’t want her puking on my mum’s white tablecloth.’
*
As I was currently housing three double gin and tonics and only a handful of salted peanuts, I was counting down the minutes until I could finally eat something. After a quick catnap and a change of outfit, I made my way down to the dining room for dinner and what I suspected would be more gin and tonics. The table was laid for the seven of us, with three down each side and a place setting at the head for Marlowe’s dad. I deliberately sat myself next to Marlowe and poured myself a drink of water, my mouth suddenly dry, existing halfway between hunger and potential hangover. Henry sat the other side of me and politely laid the linen napkin on his lap.
‘I feel like I’m on a film set,’ he whispered quietly in my ear. ‘I’m too scared to touch anything.’
‘I know, me too.’ I smiled at him in reassurance as everyone else piled into the dining room.
‘Got any brandy?’ Amber asked as she took her seat.
‘No, we don’t,’ Marlowe said, quickly.
To a soundtrack of old jazz music, which Henry loved and the rest of us tolerated, we made our way through the smoked salmon starter.
‘So how are things going with Mitch, Amber?’ Marlowe said once the plates were cleared.
‘Who is Mitch?’ her mother enquired.
‘Amber’s new boyfriend,’ Marlowe said, smiling.
‘Yeah, he’s fine,’ she said, swilling the remainder of her salmon down with a glass of white wine.
‘Mum, Amber’s acting coy because she isn’t the relationship type,’ Marlowe said. ‘There I was tied down by twenty-three while she was out gallivanting.’ She turned to Amber. ‘I really lived out my twenties through you, you know.’
‘That’s what I was there for,’ Amber said, ‘to journey out and report back.’ She raised her glass sarcastically.
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Marlowe’s mum declared. ‘Always best not to let the grass grow under your feet, darling.’
‘Not exactly the advice you gave to me, Mother,’ Marlowe said, under her breath.
‘Can I ask something?’ Sean said, as the main course was brought out. He had noticed the pictures of the London party scene from the Seventies halfway through his starter but had waited until a convenient time to get up and take a closer look at them. ‘What exactly was it like in London at that time? I hear so much about it in terms of design and musical references, but what was it like, to actually be there?’
Marlowe’s mum laughed. ‘You want to know our secrets?’
‘Well, yes,’ Sean said with a smile.
‘I will tell you this,’ she said, laying down her knife and fork carefully, ‘everything is better with hindsight.’
Marlowe’s dad nodded strongly in agreement at the end of the table.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she continued, ‘the parties were fabulous, the people – by gosh they were characters… particularly the politicians…’ she said, slyly. ‘But I think sometimes you reserve a fond part of your mind for what has been. You don’t actually remember it as it really was.’
‘I completely agree,’ I added.
‘I always think that we’ll look back on these years, when we’re old…’ Sean said as he shot Marlowe’s mum an apologetic glance. ‘Older…’ he said, quickly correcting himself. ‘What will we think of ourselves and the way we reacted to things? You know, the choices we made.’
‘Only time can be the judge of that,’ Marlowe’s dad said. ‘There are no shortcuts in life.’
By now it was raining heavily outside and we could see the water falling down through the large glass doors overlooking the garden.
‘I love being warm indoors when it’s raining outside,’ Amber said.
‘Me too,’ I said.
‘Makes me fancy a brandy.’
‘No, Amber,’ Marlowe said, sharply.
One chocolate fondant and a cheeseboard later, we were making our way nicely through their vintage case of Barolo from the wine cellar. After numerous conversations about
family and careers, the slightly tipsy chatter escalated into drunken party tricks.
‘I don’t have any,’ I protested.
‘Me, neither,’ followed Marlowe.
‘Amber, why don’t you show them yours?’ Sean shouted, clearly having had slightly too much to drink.
‘Yes! Show us!’ Marlowe’s mum shouted, herself getting a bit too excited.
‘Okay,’ she said, sliding from her chair.
She proudly clasped her hands together and slowly began to contort her whole body through the small circle she had created with her arms before climbing back through again. Everyone watched in disbelief.
‘That’s quite marvellous,’ Marlowe’s mum exclaimed as a small round of applause shook through the table.
‘I’m told it’s better when she’s naked,’ Sean said, before she hit him hard on the arm.
‘I can speak the alphabet in German,’ Henry said, proudly.
‘Take it away, boy!’ Marlowe’s dad boomed.
Henry stood up, and after clearing his voice, recited each letter word perfectly.
‘Woo!’ Sean cried afterwards, as Henry took a small bow.
‘Let’s open another bottle, I think…’ Marlowe’s dad said, proudly. ‘It’s towards the left in the cellar… mind your head on the doorframe, darling, as you go in.’
Shortly after Marlowe left, on the crucial hunt for more wine, there was a knock at the door. We listened intently in silence to the conversation taking place in the hallway, trying to work out the identity of the mystery caller.
‘My gosh!’ Marlowe’s mum said from the hallway. ‘Look at you, you’re dripping. Get inside before you catch cold.’
We all watched the door waiting for an answer when in walked George, completely drenched, despite wearing a waterproof dark green rain mac.
‘Hi, George,’ we all said, pretty much in unison.
‘Hi,’ he said, inspecting the table of half-eaten cheese and red wine stains. ‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he continued. ‘I didn’t want to ruin the party or anything…’
‘You’re not interrupting anything, son,’ Marlowe’s dad said from the head of the table.
At that point Marlowe returned carrying another bottle of Barolo. ‘Found it!’ she said, lifting it in the air before quickly laying eyes on her husband.
Love, and Other Things to Live For Page 22