by Jemma Forte
I don’t tell Ray what’s been going on until Friday morning. He’s been off the radar a bit, which I discover is because he’s had a ‘bad few days’, although he refuses to elaborate on what this actually means. Still, although he may not be particularly forthcoming about his own situation, I am impressed by what a good listener he is. He doesn’t shy away from the details, like Gary has, and isn’t squeamish. Instead he’s philosophical, wise and … kind actually. As we talk I find myself wishing that Hayley would give him a chance. He also tells me that Mum had a miscarriage after I was born.
‘You what?’ I say, stunned to find this out.
‘Yeah, it was after you. Your mum fell pregnant straight away but lost it at about two months I think it was. She was devastated. All I could think was that we already had two beautiful girls and should be thankful, but I think for a woman it don’t matter how many children you’ve got, losing one is always just as painful. Poor Hayley. It’s got to be hard when you ain’t got any little ones to help ease that pain. I want to see her Marianne.’
‘I know you do,’ I reply slightly impatiently. It’s been such a stressful time and I’m feeling at the end of my tether. ‘But it’s not as easy as that, is it?’
‘I know,’ he agrees. ‘And don’t think I don’t know that. The fact that you’re even talking to me is something I appreciate so much but I just wish I could …’ At this point his voice cracks slightly but then I hear him clearing his throat, pulling himself together. I’m glad. I’m not feeling tolerant or strong enough for him to start going over the ‘what ifs’ of the situation right now. They hardly need spelling out.
‘Anyway, what you got planned today then?’
‘Um … well you remember I told you about Andy, the guy I met in Thailand?’
‘Yeah.’
‘His plane’s landing at twelve, so I said if he got the Heathrow Express that I’d pick him up from Paddington station. I’ve taken the afternoon off work because I’ll have to be there for about two.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘No,’ I answer incredulously, wondering how he could possibly imagine that I would want that.
‘Where’s he staying, then?’
‘With me. At Mum’s.’
‘Is he now?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And your mum’s all right with that, is she?’
‘Yeah, she is actually. In fact, she’s quite excited about meeting him.’
‘Ain’t she worried about hanky panky going on in her house?’
I take a deep breath. He’s doing that thing again where he’s straying into real dad territory, which jars because he simply hasn’t put in the hours to have earned the right to be that protective or paternal. Sad but true. It’s also a bit ridiculous given that I’m not fourteen.
‘I’m thirty-one,’ is all I say. I don’t add that I’m planning on moving into Hayley’s old bedroom with him because she has a double bed and that I am thoroughly looking forward to having sex for the first time in ages.
‘True. Sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘OK, well call me later to tell me how Hayley’s doing will you?’
At two o’clock I’m at Paddington station standing outside Accessorise in the middle of the main concourse, which is where I’d texted Andy to say I’d be waiting. I’m nervous. I keep thinking I need the toilet, my mouth’s dry and my palms are clammy. It wasn’t his fault, but Andy was choosing to turn up during one of the most complicated patches in my family’s history, to the point where, over the last couple of days, I’ve almost been tempted to put him off coming altogether. Having to keep him entertained and make sure he’s all right feels like an imminent burden if I’m being completely honest. Still, I’m sure it’ll all pan out.
By now it’s two-fifteen and I’m just wondering whether I should ring him when suddenly Andy rounds the corner and I get my first glimpse of him in four months. A feeling of cold dismay seeps through me and for so many reasons I suddenly, and sincerely, wish I’d listened to my instinct and made that call to put him off. He doesn’t seem to have the same reaction.
‘Marianne, how you doing baby?’ he says, rushing towards me and sweeping me into his arms.
I must remain completely rigid though, because when he puts me down again he says, ‘Aren’t you pleased to see me?’
‘Um, yes,’ I lie, though the truth is, my heart’s just fallen through my boots and I’ve realised I’ve made a terrible mistake. It’s the most awful feeling ever and possibly the worse thing is, I know I’m being desperately shallow, a quality I’ve always loathed in Gary. Yet the fact remains that the minute I clapped eyes on Andy, the way he now looks has put me off him completely.
So here it is, for I’m going to have to be straight about this. I can’t see any way of avoiding it. The last time I saw Andy he was really brown and looked like he truly belonged on the beach. Every hair on his gorgeous, muscular arms had been bleached a silvery blonde by the sun and his limbs were toned, tanned and sinewy. Prior to today I’ve also only ever seen Andy wearing shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops, and his hair has always been unkempt and full of salt from the sea. Now, however, I hardly recognise this person in front of me. His tan has faded completely, which has transformed his entire face somehow. Not only that but he’s looking quite jowly and, now that they’re no longer standing out from a tanned complexion, his blue eyes look watery and insipid. His hair has clearly been brushed, and cut into a deeply square side parting, which makes him look about twenty years older than he actually is. His clothes, oh my god his clothes, I hardly know where to begin. He’s wearing the worst jeans known to man. Let’s just say that they’re high-waisted, baggy and topped off with an awful jumper, like the sort your Nan might give you for Christmas. If she really hated you. On his feet he’s wearing trainers, only they’re the kind of trainers old people wear for comfort or because they have bunions. The type of trainers fat tourists wear. It’s like seeing someone and not being able to put them into context. But maybe I’m being hasty. Poor guy will after all be tired after a long journey. Maybe once I’ve got used to his new appearance the spark that got us together will reignite? Or am I scraping the hope barrel?
I smile weakly at him and then I notice, underneath the jumper, a hint of a paunch, which along with the new chins he’s sporting is the most mysterious thing of all because when I last saw Andy his stomach had been washboard and his face had been chiselled. As I stare at him aghast, taking all of this in, I notice the size of his backpack. It’s the size of a house. This immediately reminds me that we haven’t met here for a casual cup of coffee, but that he’s supposed to be coming home with me … to stay. What have I done?
A loud announcement is being made over the tannoy, The train on platform five is the two twenty-three to Exeter, stopping at …
As the list of stations starts, I panic, and for a strange second contemplate legging it to platform five myself. Exeter sounds nice and far away from here, far away from him and this desperately awkward situation.
‘Are you OK? You look so freaked out. Oh sweetie you’re all emotional aren’t you? Oh, come here and let me give you a cuddle.’ Limply I let him draw me into his woolly armpit, which at least allows me to grimace in the way I want to without him seeing.
‘So, how long do you see yourself staying?’ I ask tentatively, not sure I’m ready for the answer.
‘As long as it takes to persuade you to come back to Oz with me,’ he says, staring at me in a disturbingly soppy way.
It’s the worst answer he could have possibly given, for if he’s serious, that means he’ll be here for eternity, which is how long it would take him to persuade me to emigrate anywhere with him and that jumper. This was terrible. I scan his pasty face, searching for the beach bum he’d been before a European winter had turned him into a deeply average, square, unfit-looking bloke, devoid of any style whatsoever.
Oh my god.
It was only a holiday roman
ce …
I hate myself. Why could I not have realised that a little earlier than this particular moment? Still, I must give him a chance. You never know. Maybe I’m jumping the gun?
‘Shall we get going?’ he says in his broad Aussie accent. ‘I’ve got to tell you I’m feeling a bit wrecked. Might need a bit of a lie down when we get back to yours, eh?’ he says, and then he winks.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It takes hours to get back to Chigwell. Practically every road we need to take is being dug up for no apparent reason so progress is painfully slow. Thankfully Andy doesn’t pick up on how tense I’m feeling and is happy to natter away about what he’s been up to since I last saw him. Meanwhile, I’m busy quietly hatching a plan. It would be far too cruel to tell Andy what treacherous thoughts I’m having straight away, so I decide to stick things out – while avoiding any physical contact whatsoever – in the hope that my feelings might change again. In the meantime I’ll tell him he has to stay in Hayley’s room alone because Mum doesn’t feel comfortable us sharing a bed under her roof. Then, if I still feel like this, after a while, I’ll let him down gently, explaining that I still really want to be friends but that any romantic aspect to our relationship is finished, kaput, over.
While thinking all this I smile glibly away while Andy tells me stories about all the amazing pasta dishes he sampled in Rome, which at least explains the paunch. The way he says pasta, as in ‘parsta’, is excruciatingly irritating so I’m pleased when my mobile rings. It’s Hayley and, given everything that’s going on at the moment, I feel compelled to apologise to Andy – something I can see myself doing a lot of in the near future – and to swerve into the kerb so I can phone her back.
‘Hayls?’ I say when she picks up. I can tell she’s there but not saying anything. Then I realise this is because she’s crying.
‘I’m having a miscarriage,’ she eventually manages to blurt out between sobs.
‘Oh Hayley, I’m so sorry,’ I say, immediately drenched in panic. ‘OK well sit tight and I’ll be straight over. Where’s Gary?’
‘Here,’ she says faintly. ‘But Marianne, I need you.’
It’s odd, I’ve spent years yearning for a closer relationship with my sister. Now, due to these tragically horrible circumstances, it feels like one has been forged. Over the last couple of days she hasn’t so much as expressed, but has demonstrated how much I mean to her. However, as lovely as this new sense of closeness is I would gladly swap it for her old spiteful self, if it meant she was happy again and she wasn’t suffering this terrible ordeal. It’s all rather confusing from an emotional point of view.
‘I’m on my way,’ I tell her immediately before turning to Andy. ‘I’m so sorry to do this to you. I know you’ve only just got here, but I’m going to have to drop you at mine,’ I say, indicating to rejoin the traffic. Mercifully we’re quite near home by now. It’s four-thirty so the only person in danger of being in is Mum. Can I really strand him with her? Can I really strand her with him?
‘What’s up?’ he says.
‘It’s my sister. She’s pregnant but I think she’s having a miscarriage so I really need to get round to her place I’m afraid.’
‘Jeez,’ he says, looking genuinely concerned. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Of course, just drop me wherever. I’ll be fine till you get back. Hey, I’ve got myself halfway round the world so …’
In that instant I’m unbelievably grateful that despite his dire dress sense, he has at least retained the same laid-back demeanor he had in Thailand. He’d be fine.
Ten minutes later I roar into our road, screech to a halt and race up the path to the house leaving Andy to manhandle his rucksack out of the boot. I open the door, which isn’t double locked, so I know Mum must be in.
‘Muuuuum,’ I yell. ‘Muuuuuuuuuum.’
‘What is it Marianne?’ she says, rushing out of the kitchen. ‘What’s happened? Why are you yelling like that?’ Did he stand you up?’
‘No, but you need to say that I can’t stay in his room with him.’
‘What?’ she says, looking bewildered.
‘Andy’s here, right here in fact,’ I say, giving her a look as he strolls up the path behind me.
‘G’day,’ he greets her.
‘Oh, hello,’ says Mum, immediately on full charm offensive, though I can see from her expression he isn’t quite what she’d expected. I’m overcome with an urge to take her to one side and explain that he isn’t what I’d expected either and that I have photographic evidence to prove it.
‘Come on in then love, don’t be shy. We don’t do shy around here, do we Marianne?’ Mum says, nudging me and winking.
‘It’s great to meet you, Mrs Baker,’ says Andy, striding into the hallway, slinging his rucksack off his shoulder.
‘It’s Mrs Baxter actually. I was a Baker and now I’m a Baxter, but you can call me Alison anyway. Any friend of Marianne’s and all that. Ooh look at your big bag. That looks heavy. Martin can help you with that later. You probably want to get that big jumper off too love, you must be boiling.’
‘Mum,’ I say, desperate to interrupt and hopping from one foot to the other so frantic am I to get to Hayley.
‘Thanks Mrs Baxter and can I just say I never would have guessed you were Marianne’s mum. You look more like her sister. She didn’t tell me you were such a stunner.’
‘Oh, Andy,’ Mum says, slapping him lightly on the arm while I look on dumbfounded, wondering how this scene ever came to be played out in my hall. ‘Aren’t you naughty, though I suppose I do have my moments,’ she adds, running a few paces towards the banisters, which she leans against so that she can fling herself back into a pose.
‘Mum,’ I snap impatiently.
‘Though I have to work at it these days.’
‘Mum,’ I try again wearily.
‘What Marianne?’
‘I’ve got to go. Hayley phoned. She’s having a miscarriage.’
‘What? Oh no. My poor baby!’ gasps Mum, looking totally shocked.
‘I know, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure she’s all right. Can you just look after Andy for me till I get back?’
‘Shouldn’t I come with you?’
‘I think it’s better if I go on my own,’ I say tactfully, knowing full well that Mum’s the last person Hayley will want to see right now. Andy winks at me solemnly. I shiver before smiling weakly back at him. Can this really be the same person I was so crazy about just a short time ago?
Anyway, Mum seems to get the message and although she still looks really worried, she nods her head and, without further comment, leads Andy through to the kitchen, leaving me free to charge back to Tina. I’m grateful for her complicity.
When I arrive at Hayley’s twenty minutes later, Gary opens the door looking pale.
‘Am I glad to see you,’ he says, looking quite faint. ‘Where is she?’
‘Upstairs,’ he says, gesturing with his head. ‘She just had a bath but she’s in our bedroom now.’
‘Right,’ I say, taking off my shoes and wondering what on earth I should be doing now I’m here. ‘Are you sure she shouldn’t be at the hospital?’
‘Nah, I did ring ‘em, but they said it was a natural process the body would do by itself and to come in tomorrow, once it was all over so that they can check it’s all … come out.’
He grimaces. I sense more from disgust than anything else.
‘So she’s definitely losing the baby then?’ I enquire gently.
‘Yeah … I mean … she has already,’ he says, still looking uncomfortable. ‘I don’t think there’s any question about that.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ I say.
‘Me too, Marianne,’ he says, clearly out of his depth and desperate to ‘hand over’ to me. Sure enough, he turns and heads for the kitchen as though now that I’ve arrived he’s free to go. I’m livid with him for being so useless and not at all sure I’m really equipped to deal with any of this myself. St
ill, I head up the stairs, albeit with a sense of impending doom and trepidation.
‘Hayley,’ I say, knocking on the bedroom door. ‘Hayley it’s me, I’m here.’
She doesn’t reply so I try the door, which isn’t locked, and walk in. Hayley’s lying in bed, pristine in clean pyjamas. Her face is very pale and her hair is damp and straggly, fanned out on the pillow behind her.
‘Oh Hayley, I’m so sorry.’
‘Me too,’ she says.
‘Are you … is it?’
She nods hard, blinking away tears.
‘Oh babe, I’m so, so sorry,’ I repeat, feeling helpless.
‘S’okay,’ she wails suddenly. ‘I just feel so empty.’
My heart contracts in sympathy for my poor sister.
‘Still,’ she says, staring fixedly ahead. ‘Least I don’t have to go into hospital and have it killed.’
Her choice of language makes it hard to know what to say but I stop hovering at the doorway and come to sit tentatively on the edge of her bed.
‘When did it happen?’
‘I had tummy ache all day yesterday and some bleeding, so I knew I was probably going to have a miscarriage. Then it got a bit worse and I thought that was it but then about an hour and a half ago, it really kicked off …’ She gazes at me slightly glassily. A bitter, watery smile hovering on her lips. She turns away, keen to hide the fact her eyes are welling up with tears again. ‘The hospital told Gary to give me an aspirin, which was a fucking laugh. It was agony. Sorry to get you over here by the way. Probably a bit pointless now it’s over,’ she adds matter-of-factly, and I can tell she’s embarrassed about having reached out to me during her time of need. The shutters have gone down again, but I don’t want her burying this one. I don’t want things to revert back to how they always are between us.
‘Hayley? Turn round Hayley,’ I beg her. ‘Please? I’m your sister and I’m glad you called. I want to be here for you and I want you to be able to talk to me about how you’re feeling.’
Hayley turns around slowly, only to shoot me a look that’s laced with contempt. ‘Don’t get all fucking hippy dippy on me Marianne. I don’t want to talk about things for hours on end. What’s the point? My baby’s been flushed down the toilet so that’s that.’