by Jemma Forte
I gasp and at this point words completely escape me. Angry tears spring into my own eyes. ‘He actually said that?’ I manage eventually.
‘Shit,’ says Jason angrily, punching one hand into his open palm. ‘You didn’t tell me that yesterday. What a complete and utter wanker.’
‘I know,’ she howls. ‘And I married him, so what does that say about me as a person?’
‘It doesn’t say anything. We all make mistakes. As I know only too well. But more importantly,’ I say, ‘What are you going to do about it? You can’t let him get away with this. He’s the lowest of the low.’
‘He is,’ she agrees vehemently. ‘And you know what? I do want a baby more than anything. More than words can describe in fact and I really miss the one I had … you know, so, so much. I mean I really loved it …’
I nod hard, to demonstrate that I really do understand that, and that it’s totally understandable that she’s still grieving.
‘… and yet … in a way, in a really horrible way, I’m glad I didn’t have it, but only because I would hate my precious baby to have that fucker as its dad. He even shagged Kimberley Meadows you know? And she is such a skank with her ratty hair extensions.’
‘Oh Hayley,’ I say wrapping her in my arms and hugging her tight. I’m overwhelmed with sadness for her and have forgiven her completely for everything. I feel so sorry for her. She’s so weird and it must be such hard work and so draining being her, but underneath all her neuroses and cold exterior is just a girl who wants to be a mum and is devastated because she lost a baby. A girl who hasn’t had a dad to show her the way, so probably as a direct result, has clung to any male who’s shown her the slightest bit of interest.
While we’re hugging and Hayley’s sobbing noisily into my shoulder, Roberto pokes his head round the door looking a bit narked, probably wondering what the hell Jason and I are doing when there are customers waiting. Still, once he’s surveyed our little scene he just gives us a concerned look and leaves us to it. Jason nods at him gratefully. Hayley doesn’t even notice him come or go.
‘I’m sorry I was such a bitch to you,’ she mutters into my shoulder at one point.
‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not. But I’ll make it up to you,’ she says and I know how incredibly hard it is for her to say this. It means a huge amount.
I go back to my original question though and say gently, once she’s calmed down a bit, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Oh, I’ve done it,’ she says, and Jason and I exchange glances wondering for one awful second whether she might have actually killed him.
‘What have you done …?’ Jason asks nervously on behalf of both of us.
Hayley looks up. That last bout of crying certainly hasn’t helped her look any better. Her eyes are so piggy now, they’re barely visible.
‘I told him in no uncertain terms that he was a horrible, ugly, thick, pig-headed wanker with a tiny knob.’
For a fleeting second, despite the gravity of the whole scene I find myself wishing that Gary’s dad, Derek, could be here too, to hear Hayley’s incredibly colourful, but terribly apt description of his hideous son. To be fair, I couldn’t have put it better myself.
‘Good,’ said Jason approvingly, practically applauding. It occurs to me that he looks particularly pleased to hear Gary’s willy being described so disparagingly and know in that instant he’s fallen for her. They always do, though admittedly not usually while she’s looking like this.
‘Then I kneed him in the balls, packed a bag, left the house and told him I’d be in touch via a lawyer.’
For a second, even through her tears, she looks incredibly proud. Not as proud as I feel though.
‘You actually did that?’ I say.
‘Yeah,’ she says, biting her lip, tears threatening to overcome her again. ‘Yeah I did.’
‘Good on you girl,’ says Jason wholeheartedly, at which point he crosses the small room so he can share in what has become a rather snotty, very emotional group hug.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
During August the weather suddenly becomes about as hot as it ever can be in England. Martin’s in his element of course, for this means he can justify bringing home hose attachments, barbecue accessories, flowerpots … the list is endless. In short, his mission in life at the moment is to fill up the garden with as much stuff as he is physically able. Of course, he has his assistant, Andy, to aid and abet him in this task. Andy who has taken to wearing only his trunks around the house, which is pretty offensive. Even Mum and Martin have finally grown a bit fed up with his lack of financial contribution to the household so, as of very recently, he has at last got a job. Unfortunately he’ll be working at TGI Friday’s burger joint in Enfield so I can’t see his weight situation improving any time soon.
Of course this also means he’ll probably never leave, but by now he’s been here so long anyway, it’s got to the point it almost doesn’t feel strange him being around. I’ve got used to feeling permanently irritated by him and it’s only when I stop to think about it for a second that I am reminded how odd it is that the random Australian I had a fleeting holiday romance with, in Thailand, now lives with us. I deal with this by not stopping to think about it very often. It’s just easier that way.
Meanwhile Hayley’s moved back home and has started divorce proceedings against Gary. That sentence has its good points and bad points. On a good note it means Andy has been forced to move out of her old room and is now on the sofa – hee hee – which hopefully might help encourage him to depart one day. On the downside, Hayley’s moved back home, meaning I have to put up with her on a day-to-day basis, which actually isn’t half as bad as this once would have been.
The fact that she’s following through with her plans to divorce dick-splash is brilliant and I’m proud of her for being so strong about it. Having said that, she’s also taken to spending quite a bit of time with Jason, which is fine, except I can’t help feel like she’s transferring her baggage from one man to the next without sorting anything out for herself first. Continuing the baggage analogy – the suitcase being her life, its contents being her emotional state – if only she were to unpack all her soiled clothes herself, before putting them through a hot wash, giving them a nice iron, then re-packing them neatly away again, I can’t help but think it would be far healthier, more healing and would make her a stronger person. As it is, she’s finding someone else to deal with her dirty washing for her, while she lies on the bed, which is easier in the short run, but means she’ll never know what’s been re-packed.
OK, I’m confusing myself now. In short it annoys me that she can’t be without the security blanket of male company for even five seconds at a time. I’m pretty sure Jason is harbouring a huge crush on her and on a selfish, slightly childish, level I also feel like she’s hijacked my friendship. I’m trying to be grown up about it though because what I can’t deny is that hanging out with a nice, normal person, is having a really good effect on her. My sister is definitely easier to be around than she is normally. She still has an opinion on everything I should be doing/wearing etc but is learning to curb her constant desire to express it and equally I am finally learning to stick up for myself.
The rest of my time is spent either with Dad, Teresa, or day-dreaming about Matthew. With regard to this, from time to time I wish he’d man up, flout the rules altogether, throw caution to the wind and come round and ravage me. As it is there’s been a deafening silence from that end.
So nothing much has changed. I practise, I work, I keep my head down and everything’s fine and yet, underpinning everything, is the rather grim feeling that what’s really going on is one long torturous waiting game. Dad’s still doing really well but as much as I hate to admit it, I am fully aware that this is only going to be the pre-cursor to him getting worse again.
One day, as these and other terrifying thoughts swirl around my head, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a spontaneous desire to act on impulse for o
nce. I blame the music. I’ve been playing along to a concerto on my iPod and get so inspired I find myself abandoning my practising, throwing my violin down on the bed and dialling Matthew’s number. My fingers are shaking so badly it’s a bit of a job but I get there in the end.
‘Hi,’ I say when he picks up, worried that if I pause even for a second I’ll change my mind and hang up. ‘It’s me, Marianne … Baker. Anyway, would you like to meet up for that coffee you once mentioned? Although I actually hate coffee, but I could always have something else. And don’t worry if I’ve got totally the wrong end of the stick …’
‘You haven’t,’ says Matthew and I can almost hear that gorgeous grin of his beaming down the phone. ‘In fact, I’m glad you’ve called. Only, seeing as you have, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to meet up one evening for a drink.’
‘Really?’
Oh god. Now that’s changed everything. Meeting for a drink, in the evening, puts things on a braver, but more frightening, date-type footing. That’ll teach me for being spontaneous.
‘Yeah, if that’s OK? We wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. We’d be meeting as friends. And besides, we can go somewhere like The White Horse in Epping Forest. Do you know it? It’s slightly out of the way I know but no one from the hospital goes there.’
‘Fine by me,’ I say cheerily, though inside I’m panicking a bit now. He’s obviously thought about this and is only half-convinced it’s a good idea.
‘OK, so how about tonight then, at eight? They do really nice food too, so we could always have something to eat.’
‘See you there,’ I say, wondering what the hell I’ve done.
‘See you there,’ Matthew agrees and we ring off.
I spend hours getting ready and choosing what to wear. Eventually I settle on a tea dress with bare legs and biker boots and then finally I’m ready.
As soon as I get to the pub I spot Matthew. He’s at the bar talking to the barman and I know that if I didn’t know him already I would have noticed him straight away, as I think half the females in here have already.
‘Hi,’ I say shyly.
‘Hi,’ he says, spinning around. ‘Wow, you look gorgeous.’
‘Thanks,’ I say ‘I don’t scrub up as well as my sister but I do my best.’
Even as the words come tumbling out of my mouth I know that this is just about the worst, most needy sign of mental issues thing I could have said. What’s wrong with me?
Matthew gives me a quizzical look. ‘Your sister is really pretty, but she’s not my type at all. Far too high maintenance, if you don’t mind me saying. She’s got that sort of ice queen thing going on.’
‘Really?’ I say, disproportionately pleased and unable to disguise it. I’m pathetic.
‘Put it this way, Claudia Schiffer was never my favourite of the supermodels,’ he says, leaning back against the bar, looking fit as anything in jeans and a plain shirt, which is rolled up at the arms.
‘Who did you like then?’ I enquire lightly.
‘Um, probably Kate Moss,’ he says. ‘I like girls to look a bit intriguing, like they’d be a laugh to hang out with. Anyway, you shouldn’t be so down on yourself. You’re the sister that turns heads, I reckon.’
My jaw is literally on the ground. And all this before we’ve even had a drink.
‘Gosh,’ I say, blushing madly. ‘Well, thanks.’
‘Right,’ says Matthew, who’s gone almost as red as me and is now doing everything in his power to avoid looking at me directly. ‘Anyway, I’m going to have a pint, what do you want?’
‘Oh, um, a vodka and tonic please.’
Half an hour later, sitting in the pub garden, I am trying to accept the fact that I really like Matthew. There’s no getting away from it. He’s amazing. He’s funny, clever, interesting and every time I look at his face I’m filled with an urge to grab it with two hands and snog it clean off. I simply cannot stress how downright sexy he is. Plus, to top it all, I now know, given what he said earlier, that he likes me back. I’m also fairly convinced that because we’re on home turf and I’ve seen him in a variety of situations now that he’s not going to suddenly change before my very eyes like Andy did. I am not being holiday romanced. I’m not falling for him because I’m in paradise and have been conned by the sunshine, the freedom, the strong Thai whiskey and illegal substances. I am being romanced by him because I enjoy being around him and like hearing what he has to say.
However, there is of course, as ever with things that are so wonderful, a problem. He’s my dad’s nurse, so I’m still not convinced I should even be here. However, once we’ve chit-chatted for a pleasant thirty minutes or so, chemistry zinging all around us as we do so, literally screaming into our ears and other orifices – ‘Go to bed with one another’ – he is the first to summon the elephant from the corner of the room.
‘I really hope you don’t think badly of me for asking you out today, Marianne?’ he begins. ‘It’s just that … and this isn’t an easy thing to say … It’s just that there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to ask you out at some stage, so my plan was to wait. But then when you rang earlier, I figured that if I waited for Ray to … well anyway, at a certain point it might have seemed a bit maudlin to ask you then. Inappropriate somehow.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I say quietly, my stomach lurching with fear as it always does at the mere thought of the day he’s subtly referring to. ‘And I’m glad you did because I’d rather get to know you a bit now, no matter what the medical ethics might be, because as you say, when that time does come, I suspect I’ll be in a bit of a state for a while.’
Matthew nods. ‘I know.’
‘And I don’t want the thing that defines us getting to know one another to be so sad,’ I add, blinking hard as tears threaten. Christ I’ve done more crying these last few months than I have my whole life put together.
Matthew nods again. ‘We’ve got your dad to thank for introducing us to one another so for that I’m very grateful.’ He looks thoughtfully at me. ‘I just really hope that no matter what happens, you’ll allow me to be around for you as a friend, when things get difficult.’
Now I’m confused. What’s he saying?
‘What I mean is,’ he says, obviously having picked up on my stricken face. ‘Is that I don’t want to be just friends with you Marianne, I mean, I think you know that.’
Oh my god when he looks at me like that I feel so turned on I hardly know what to do with myself. Now I’m turned on and crying at the same time. Weird combination.
‘But what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy to be pragmatic. We haven’t met under normal circumstances, so I suppose normal rules don’t apply. I get that there might well be a period soon when you don’t feel like embarking on anything “romantic”. Not that I’m making any assumptions here, I just think it’s probably better to say these things now. Oh god this is hard. I’m making a right dick of myself aren’t I?’
‘No, you’re not,’ I say adamantly. ‘I’m just grateful that you’re brave enough to say the things that need saying out loud.’
‘OK good,’ he says, supping his pint.
‘And I appreciate it,’ I add.
‘Good, so anyway, enough of all that heavy stuff,’ he says, smiling again. ‘As long as you know that when you need me to back off and just be a friend for a while, that’s what I’ll do. I’m happy to wait as long as it takes.’
‘OK,’ I say. ‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Great.’
‘Great.’
‘Though that time hasn’t come yet,’ I say unsubtly, worried that he’s going to go all restrained on me.
Now he turns and gives me a full-blown grin. ‘Good,’ he says.
A moment passes where we stare at one another, right into each other’s eyes, but it’s not remotely uncomfortable.
‘In that case,’ he says eventually, leaning in towards me. ‘Would you mind if I kissed you, because I’ve been dying to for ages?’
&
nbsp; I shake my head, just as his hand starts travelling lightly up my leg. I’m shivering with lust when the next thing I know his gorgeous face is finally advancing towards me and I’m being kissed like I’ve never been kissed before. It’s a tender, passionate kiss and when he finally moves away, he fixes me with his brown eyes but for once he isn’t smiling. ‘OK we need to get out of here right now,’ he says hoarsely.
I can’t speak so nod instead and the next thing we know we’re literally running through the pub.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The next day I’m happily prancing round the house like Julie Andrews in The Sound Of Music when Mum asks, ‘Flipping ‘eck what’s got into you Marianne?’
‘Nothing, I’m just in a good mood,’ I beam back at her.
Hayley, who’s filing her nails on the sofa, gives me a look and arches one eyebrow magnificently. I’ve always wished I could do that.
‘I reckon it’s not what’s got into her, it’s who?’ she says drily.
‘Oh you are filthy,’ cackles Mum delightedly, enthralled by Hayley’s gross innuendo. ‘Go on then, tell me, fill me in, as the actress said to the bishop,’ she quips, getting up to get the biscuit tin.
I mouth ‘thanks a lot’ at Hayley who sticks her tongue out at me.
Mum has a good old rummage in the tin before selecting a Penguin. ‘You know I love a bit of goss Marianne and, besides, I’m glad you’re getting a bit of action. It’s about time someone put a smile on your face lovey. I wish our Pete would hook up with someone. I reckon he could do with a bit of “how’s your father” an’ all.’
‘Certainly puts a smile on our face, doesn’t it my princess?’ says Martin, coming in from the garden, obviously having caught the tail-end of our conversation.
He’s wearing socks, sandals, short shorts and nothing on top. What is it with him and Andy? Why can’t they be horrendously body-shy like Pete, which is far easier to live with.
‘Hello my darling,’ says Mum, mouth full of Penguin but attempting to pout none the less. ‘Look at you, you hunk of love.’