A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  He picked up the knife and bent over the chopping board, slicing the veg into slivers so fine they were almost transparent. I suppressed a sigh. I liked them chunky; you could taste them properly, appreciate the different textures.

  ‘Anyway, of course it’ll be Evie’s fault. Women’s plumbing is complicated. Men are simple creatures.’ He winked boyishly.

  I raised an eyebrow at that but stayed quiet.

  ‘He shoots, he scores,’ Harvey continued. ‘Simple. No irregular cycles, no blocked tubes. Just in, out, shake it all about.’

  He thrust his hips forward comically in a deliberate attempt to make me laugh. It worked. I shook my head, smiling at him.

  ‘It’s got me thinking, though,’ he went on idly. ‘I wonder if it runs in the family?’

  ‘What?’ I set cutlery and plates out on the breakfast bar.

  He slid the wok on to the hob and lit the gas. ‘Being barren.’

  I frowned. ‘Will you stop saying that word? And of course not, otherwise neither Evie or I would be here, would we?’

  ‘Think about it.’ He dropped a blob of coconut oil into the pan and swirled it around. ‘You’re thirty-two. And you’ve never got pregnant.’

  I laughed in disbelief. ‘Well no, because I’ve never tried and we take precautions.’

  Contraception was Harvey’s department. He’d read an article last year about how prolonged use of the birth control pill could have an adverse effect on a woman’s fertility rate. ‘I’m thinking of you, and the future,’ he’d said at the time. ‘Come off the pill; let’s use condoms, you can trust me. I don’t want to be a dad yet.’

  It was thoughtful of him to care about my health and to volunteer to take on the responsibility; in the past, boyfriends had just left it up to me to take care of that side of things. He’d been so sweet about it that I’d happily complied.

  Harvey glanced sideways at me now before tipping vegetables into the wok. It sizzled and a cloud of steam rose from the pan. ‘Yeah, but we’ve had the odd accident and you’ve never caught.’

  Caught. An unbidden image of a mousetrap popped into my head.

  ‘Have we?’ This was news to me. ‘Why did you never say?’

  ‘Didn’t want to worry you,’ he said with a shrug. ‘And there was nothing to worry about; we’ve obviously dodged the bullet.’

  ‘So you shot, but didn’t score,’ I teased. ‘So maybe you’ve got a problem with your simple plumbing?’

  ‘No!’ He pointed his spatula at me, his jaw taut. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’

  My heart thumped. This was what happened these days; one minute we were having a friendly chat, the next his temper flared and I had to talk him down.

  ‘I was only joking,’ I said, reaching out to stroke his bare arm. ‘Shall I put this shopping away?’

  Harvey took a deep breath. ‘Yes please. I bought some more of that protein powder you like. Chocolate flavour this time. We can have it in our breakfast shakes tomorrow.’

  ‘Yum,’ I said, hoping I sounded convincing.

  Every night he measured out our protein shakes ready for the morning. Fruit, kale and protein powder. All I had to do when I got up was add almond milk and blitz.

  He thought I drank it on the way to work when what I actually did was pour it down the drain outside and then go to the Polish supermarket around the corner and buy myself a fresh pecan Danish pastry.

  Five minutes later Harvey tipped our dinner on to the plates and pulled a stool out from the breakfast bar. He sat down and began to eat.

  ‘Hey.’ His eyes lit up. ‘I meant to tell you. A guy walked into the gym today and asked about personal training. He had all the gear on and he was jingling car keys with a Mercedes key fob; I could tell he was loaded. I gave him my number and told him I could do a bespoke programme. And I said if he came directly to me, it’d be cheaper than paying the gym for sessions. He seemed really keen.’

  ‘Great!’ I sat down next to him and smiled. It occurred to me that Harvey’s methods might not go down too well at the gym, but seeing as I’d had my knuckles rapped today for not following the rules in my own job, who was I to criticize? ‘Fingers crossed for you.’

  Harvey shovelled his stir-fry in and swallowed it down. ‘This could be my lucky break, Lottie. I only need a couple of regulars and I’ll be earning enough for both of us. I’d really like it if you didn’t work for a bit, stay at home, maybe do some leafleting again for me. I hate you leaving before me in the mornings. And I don’t like you travelling on your own on the tube. I want you to be here where I can look after you.’

  ‘Oh Harvey,’ I said weakly.

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ he said, mistaking my tone for happiness. He leaned forward to kiss me. ‘I love you, blossom.’

  I didn’t want to tell him about my promotion tonight. I’d do it tomorrow.

  Chapter 3

  The next night after work, Harvey came home in a bad mood. The man with the Mercedes had been back in to book some sessions directly with Harvey. Unfortunately, he’d arrived before the start of Harvey’s shift and had been served by the boss instead. When she found out that her new instructor had proposed cutting Muscle Works out of the deal, she’d bawled Harvey out in front of two other members of staff and given him a formal warning for effectively stealing from her.

  ‘The idiot!’ he spat, pacing up and down the flat, more like a caged animal than ever. ‘I told him to phone me first, not just turn up. What was he thinking?’

  I smiled sympathetically from my perch on the window sill, knowing he didn’t want me to actually speak.

  ‘And that bitch, humiliating me like that. Who does she think she is?’

  Your employer? I thought.

  ‘Now she’s watching me like a hawk; daring to say I can’t be trusted. She should be grateful I didn’t walk out; I’m the only one with two brain cells to rub together in that place.’

  Maybe this was my opening. If he did walk out, he’d have to accept that I needed to increase my earnings to compensate.

  ‘Then leave,’ I said, catching hold of his hand and forcing him to look at me. ‘Go back to trying to build your own business. You’ll be much happier and don’t worry about money,’ I laughed self-consciously, ‘because—’

  ‘No, I won’t give her the satisfaction of walking out, but I will increase my efforts to pick up my own clients. I know!’ he said, grabbing the laptop. ‘Let’s knock up a website! That way more people will find out about me.’

  ‘Good idea,’ I said, not mentioning that when I’d suggested that five months ago he’d said that websites were ‘old hat’ and nobody looks at them any more.

  For the rest of the night, we sat together on the sofa building a simple site and scrolling through pictures of Harvey looking manly and muscular to persuade people that no one knew more about becoming the body beautiful than my boyfriend. It had been quite fun in the end; he did have a beautiful body and he knew just how to hold it against me.

  On Wednesday evening, I’d only been talking to Evie on the phone for a couple of minutes when Harvey arrived home. She’d told me that she’d sent off for some information about fostering from social services that afternoon and was full of it. I got up from the sofa and walked over to him in the kitchen, watching him to try to gauge his mood. His face gave nothing away and I kissed his cheek.

  ‘Who is it?’ he asked, twisting my hand so he could read the screen.

  ‘Evie,’ I whispered.

  He rolled his eyes.

  ‘They’re crying out for foster parents!’ Evie said, sounding happier than I’d heard her for ages. ‘I’m so glad we’re doing this.’

  I was still concerned that she was keeping Darren in the dark but this was her life, not mine. She’d been through enough and I would support her whatever she decided to do.

  ‘Just tell Darren what you’ve told me,’ I said, turning my back on Harvey, determined that he wasn’t going to make me feel guilty for talking to my own siste
r tonight.

  He started banging about in the kitchen and I moved as far away as I could to the window.

  ‘Let him know that you really want to go through with this,’ I continued.

  ‘Go through with what?’ Harvey looked up.

  ‘Tell you later,’ I said, unwilling to get into a three-way conversation.

  ‘I will, I will,’ Evie said vaguely. ‘But I want to take the first steps on my own. I think once I’ve got that far, he’ll see how much it means to me.’

  ‘I’m sure he will,’ I said, although secretly I wasn’t convinced. My heart tweaked for them both. Darren would have made a good dad; it was so sad that they were at loggerheads.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said glumly, ‘the last time we talked about it he said he didn’t want to see a constant, ever-changing stream of kids come through our house, and also that he thought that fostering wasn’t for me.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He thinks I’ll get too attached.’ I heard the note of doubt in my sister’s voice. Not easy given that Harvey was recreating the show Stomp that we’d seen last year with our saucepans and a ladle. ‘That when it’s time for the children to leave our house, I’ll get upset. He said that I’d feel the loss too deeply.’

  I bit my lip; Darren might have a good point there. I looked across to Harvey who was now dropping bananas into the smoothie maker. I thought about going into the bedroom so I could continue our conversation in peace, but he’d probably accuse me of keeping secrets from him or something silly.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said brightly, ‘for now, I’m keeping my fingers crossed. It’s so exciting, Lottie. Our little bedroom could have a child in it in only a few months. Imagine!’

  Just then the harsh whirr of Harvey’s smoothie maker took over and neither of us could make ourselves heard. I promised to call her soon and finished the call.

  ‘What’s the latest?’ said Harvey a couple of minutes later, wiping a yellow banana-y moustache from his upper lip. I crossed the room to the sink, picked up a cloth, wiped up the milk he’d spilled and put his banana skins into the bin.

  ‘Evie’s applying for them to be foster carers.’

  ‘Jeez.’ Harvey pulled a face. ‘Has she lost the plot?’

  ‘I think she’ll be good at it,’ I replied defensively, although secretly I thought the same as Darren: that Evie would miss the children terribly when they left her, worrying about what was going to happen to them next.

  He looked repulsed. ‘Who’d want to bring up somebody else’s kids?’

  ‘Luckily lots of people do,’ I said, hiding my shock at his heartlessness. ‘Although according to Evie not enough.’

  ‘Not surprised,’ he muttered. ‘I wouldn’t let strangers’ kids into my house. You don’t know what bad behaviour they might have picked up from their parents.’

  ‘They’re children, Harvey, who’ve probably had a difficult start in life,’ I said. I don’t know what made me say it, but suddenly I was fed up of his narrow-minded opinions. ‘It’s a lovely thing to do. I’d foster kids too if I couldn’t have any of my own.’

  He choked on his smoothie. ‘You what?’

  ‘Why not?’ I shot him a cheeky smile as I whisked past him to take some turkey mince from the fridge but he tweaked my ponytail and stopped me in my tracks.

  ‘Harvey!’ I said, half-laughing. ‘Let me go, I was only teasing.’

  He wrapped my hair around his hand to pull me closer.

  ‘Not funny.’ As he spoke I could smell milk and banana and felt myself gag. I held my breath.

  ‘Let me go, I feel ill,’ I said shakily.

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s wrong with you? Time of the month? Do you feel sick?’

  Sick of you behaving like this. I shook my head. ‘Just a touch of stomach ache. And anyway, you’re hurting me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Poor baby.’ He kissed my cheek and released me. ‘Hey, I picked up a flyer today for a new café opening this weekend. I thought we could go try the brunch menu on Sunday, what do you think? My treat.’

  His face was full of remorse and he looked so eager to make up for his outburst; at moments like this, I saw the Harvey I fell in love with. Unfortunately, lately such moments were few and far between.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. ‘That sounds lovely.’

  ‘You know, it’s probably stress,’ he said, glancing at my stomach. ‘You work too hard. Perhaps you should go part time? I can cover the rent on my wages, you know.’

  I excused myself and went to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I couldn’t mention my promotion tonight.

  After work on Thursday I let myself into the flat, set my shopping in the kitchen and popped the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc in the fridge which the man in the supermarket assured me would best complement the sweetness of the pork on tonight’s special menu. We didn’t often have wine; Harvey was convinced it killed your brain cells. He mostly stuck to water and smoothies these days anyway, but I was pulling out all the stops this evening.

  Before I started cooking I opened all the windows wide. The sky was heavy with thick dense cloud, the air was humid and the heat oppressive; a storm was coming. My stomach churned. There’d quite possibly be a storm in here tonight; I had to give my answer to Paula tomorrow. Either I was out of a job on Monday or I’d be the new grounds maintenance supervisor. Hence me making an effort with dinner. My plan was to show Harvey that me working didn’t mean that I didn’t have time for us.

  I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My cheeks were more flushed than usual and there were dark smudges under my green eyes. My dark brown hair was escaping from the habitual ponytail I wore for work, a look that might suit some, but just made me look bedraggled. I hadn’t had a haircut since I’d been in London and the ends were dry and split. Despite the suntan I’d got from being outside all day, I didn’t look healthy; I looked tired and older than my thirty-two years. I felt tired too, and could have happily slid under the covers and slept for a week. I opened the little silver locket on the chain around my neck and looked at the photo of my parents taken on their wedding day.

  ‘Oh Mum,’ I said under my breath, ‘I can’t work out what I want any more. I’ve always wanted to find a man who loved me as much as Dad loved you. Harvey adores me, but …’

  My voice tailed off. He did love me, I was sure of that, but I was beginning to wonder whether his love was conditional on me fitting in with his beliefs, opinions and plans. And the way he’d pulled my hair last night worried me. He hadn’t hurt me, but there was something domineering about it that was disturbing.

  ‘Anyway, Mum, don’t worry about me, I’ll sort it out.’ I closed the locket and brought it to my lips where I kissed it. ‘Tonight. No excuses.’

  The storm broke as I was making the paprika fat-free yogurt accompaniment for the goulash that was already simmering gently on the hob. The sky had darkened to an eerie blue-grey glow. The thunder came first: a distant rumble which built to ear-splitting cracks directly overhead. Then the sky lit up, time and time again, illuminating the flat with flashes of brilliant white. Lastly came the rain, lashing down and blowing in through the open windows. I dashed across to shut them, marvelling at the monsoon conditions outside, and when I turned back round, Harvey had appeared, dripping wet and panting.

  ‘I got drenched!’ His T-shirt had stuck to him, water was running down his face and he was grinning broadly as he pulled off his trainers. ‘I sprinted back. Really enjoyed pounding the pavements and powering through the rain. What a buzz!’

  I handed him a towel, my heart leaping with joy to see him in such a good mood. ‘You look very sexy,’ I said, kissing him. ‘And you smell of fresh rain.’

  ‘I feel really alive.’ He rubbed his hair and his face, his eyes sparkling, and he returned my kiss fiercely, wrapping his arms round my waist and dropping the towel to the floor. ‘How long have we got until dinner?’

  I reached a hand out and turned off the hob. ‘As long as we want.
’

  ‘Good.’ He scooped me up into his arms, making me squeal with laughter, and carried me to our bedroom. ‘Because this could take a while.’

  The evening couldn’t have gone any better, I thought later on, gazing over at him as I handed him a plate of goulash.

  We hadn’t just made love, we’d laid in each other’s arms, limbs entangled in the sheets, listening to the rain drumming against the window, just talking about nothing in particular. It had felt like the early days when he’d been so tender and attentive, seemingly captivated by every word I said. The rain stopped, but the sky had stayed dark and eventually our hunger had driven us from the bedroom.

  ‘This smells fantastic,’ said Harvey, bending down over his plate. He scooped up a spoonful of yogurt. ‘And is this definitely fat-free?’

  ‘Yep,’ I said, pleased with my efforts. ‘Would you like wine?’

  I unscrewed the bottle and held it poised over a glass. He looked at it and wrinkled his nose.

  ‘White? With goulash?’ He gave me a pitying smile. ‘Oh Lottie, I know you’ve tried, but the clue is in the paprika. You need something full-bodied to go with goulash.’ He grinned slyly. ‘Like yourself.’

  ‘Hey!’ I said, feigning mock affront when, in truth, I was a bit offended. I could have countered that I’d sought advice in the supermarket for the best wine to accompany our meal but there was no way I was going to let anything ruin the mood tonight. ‘Nothing wrong with child-bearing hips.’

  ‘I bet that was what Darren thought about your Evie; how wrong could he be?’ Harvey sniggered.

  I counted to five under my breath. ‘So, do you want wine or not?’

  ‘Go on then,’ he said, sighing. He winked. ‘You could have one too, seeing as you’ve burned off all those calories.’

  I chose not to rise to the bait. I’d have been having a glass for Dutch courage with or without our bedroom workout.

  ‘I intend to,’ I said, pouring some for us both. ‘I think we should celebrate all the small things in life.’

  ‘What are you calling small?’ said Harvey, waggling his eyebrows.