“What do you mean?”
“Lonely. I’ll — I’ll look after you.” Finn’s voice was gruff, and Alice knew how hard it was for him to express emotion.
“Thanks, Finn. That’s sweet of you.” She gave him hug. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
But Alice’s patience was about to be sorely tried, for the following week, there was a parents’ evening at Finn’s school.
“I think Trot should come this time,” Alice told him.
“Why?” Finn looked up from his laptop.
“Why do you think?”
“He won’t like it.” Finn clicked on the mouse. The picture that came up (from where she was, it looked suspiciously like a pair of breasts) was quite definitely nothing to do with maths homework.
“Well, that’s tough. He’s your father, and it’s time he played his part.”
Finn was right. Trot didn’t like the idea at all.
“But why, Alice? Why now? I thought you did all that sort of thing.”
“That sort of thing being bringing Finn up, feeding him, putting up with his moods, clearing up after him —”
“Okay, okay. I get the message. But you were the one who decided to have him.”
“What?”
“You had him.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this, Trot. We sorted all that out years ago, and it’s hardly affected you at all. You’ve abrogated pretty much all responsibility for your son —”
“Oh. He’s my son now, is he?”
“Yes. He’s your son. As much as he is mine, as a matter of fact. I’ve never asked much of you, but I think it would be nice if you came along to the school to hear how he’s doing. This is the beginning of his final GCSE year, and they want to discuss last term’s reports. It’s important. This is Finn’s future we’re talking about.”
“You could always tell me what they say.”
“I could, but I won’t. If you want to know, you’ll have to come with me.”
“And what if I don’t want to know?”
“Now you’re just being childish.” Alice sensed a hangover — Trot was always petulant after a heavy night — but decided not to say anything. “You ought to want to know. It’s good for Finn if he thinks you’re taking an interest.”
“But I do take an interest! I took him fishing last weekend, and we went to that football match. I had an awful job getting the tickets, and they were bloody expensive. I —”
“Trot, these are all fun things. Now that Finn’s nearly an adult, it’s time you took an interest in his future. Fishing and football are all very well, but they’re not going to equip him for a career.”
“I didn’t get any qualifications, and I’m doing okay.”
“Yeah, right. No career, no regular income, no wife or family to look after. Come to think of it, you’re in much the same position as Finn. The difference being that Finn is fifteen and you’re… you’re… well, a lot older.” It occurred to Alice that she had no idea how old Trot was.
“I paint. I sold five pictures at that last exhibition.”
“Five pictures! Well, I hope you’re not going to let that change your life!” Alice finally lost her temper.
“You can be very nasty sometimes, Alice,” said Trot.
“If you don’t come to this parents’ evening, you’ll find I can be a lot nastier. You owe it to Finn. Come to that, I think you owe it to me. It’s one evening, Trot. Just one evening. Surely you can manage that?”
In the event, Trot consented to give up his evening. He also managed to get himself invited to supper beforehand.
“How does he do it?” Alice asked as she prepared sausages and mash (no fatted calf this evening).
“Charm,” Finn told her. “It’s where I get it from.”
But during the parents’ evening, it transpired that charm wasn’t the only thing Finn had inherited from his father. Their first interview was with Finn’s form teacher, Mr. Langley.
“He’s lazy, Mrs. Mayhew —”
“Ms.,’ said Alice, not wanting anyone to think she was married to Trot, who nowadays sported a tatty little moustache and was wearing a very grubby pair of jeans.
“Ms. Mayhew. I apologise.” Mr. Langley looked at Trot, and then glanced hastily away. “Finn’s bright. He could do anything he wanted to if he was prepared to work, but not to put too fine a point on it, he’s bone idle.”
“I say!” Trot started to protest. “That’s not fair! I know for a fact —”
“Shut up, Trot,” Alice hissed. She had heard all this many times before and was having none of Trot’s nonsense. Besides, it was high time that he was told about this other side of his son. It was one of the reasons she had asked him to come with her.
“It’s difficult to know what to do,” she said. “He’ll spend ten minutes on his homework, and then say he’s finished it. I’ve no way of knowing whether that’s true. Or he’ll tell me that he does work hard, it’s just that I never see him when he’s doing it.”
Trot laughed, and Alice glared at him.
“I can read him the riot act if you’d like.” Mr. Langley seemed a mild-mannered man, not the kind to read an effective riot act. Seeing Alice’s expression, he smiled. “Oh, I can be quite scary if I need to be, but sometimes parents object. We have to be so careful nowadays.”
“I shan’t object,” Alice said. “Scary sounds exactly what Finn needs. I’ll be only too happy for someone to frighten him into doing some work.”
“Well, I object —” Trot began, but Alice gave him a sharp kick under the table. She had brought him along to listen, not put in his two pennyworth.
It was the same story with all the other teachers. Finn was bright, but lazy. Alice had been told this on numerous occasions in the past, and she was at her wits’ end. In the pub on the way home, she tried to explain to Trot what an uphill struggle it was, trying to make Finn do any work, but Trot just couldn’t see it.
“If he really is that lazy — and I’m still not sure I believe all these people — then can’t you just lock him in his room till he’s done his homework? Should be simple enough,” said Trot over his pint of bitter.
“Lock Finn in his room,” repeated Alice, sipping her wine and trying to keep calm. “Now there’s a brilliant idea. Lock him up with his iPod and his sound system and his mobile and —”
“You could take them away.”
“Oh yes. So I could. I could empty Finn’s room out and leave him alone at his desk. Brilliant, Trot. Thank you so much. Now why didn’t I think of that before?”
“Can’t be that hard,” grumbled Trot.
“Okay. Why don’t you have him for the weekend and see if you can manage it? You’ve been promising he can come and stay for ages, and now’s your chance.”
“But I was going to go out with some mates. It’s all fixed.”
“Well, unfix it and have Finn instead. He could do with some proper time with you, and I could do with a free weekend. I’ll bring him round on Friday after school.”
“With his bike? We can go for a bike ride.”
“With his bike. And his homework.”
Alice had another reason for wanting a free weekend. Jay had told her that Angela would be staying at her mother’s for a couple of days, and he wasn’t on call, so for once they might be able to spend some proper time together. She wondered briefly whether she could risk asking Jay to come and stay, but dismissed the idea. It was more than probable that Trot would tire of his parental duties and decide to return Finn early, or Finn himself might pitch up on his own (it was only a half-hour bike ride away). Once again, they would have to go in search of neutral ground — something that had once seemed adventurous, even exciting, but which had long since lost its attraction.
Jay, however, had other ideas.
“We could rent a cottage,” he said when Alice phoned to tell him she would be free.
“Could we?” She was doubtful.
“Why not? We’re both off the hook fo
r the weekend, and it would be nice to have somewhere that’s ours, even if it’s only for a couple of days.”
“You mean play house?” The idea was certainly attractive.
“Exactly. We can cook for each other, and make love when we want to, and be totally private. What do you think?”
“I think it sounds wonderful.”
Alice thought the idea of having a whole house to themselves — even a very small one — was very appealing. An affair was by its nature an all-or-nothing kind of thing. You were either together — in the same room or car, taking the same walk, eating the same meal — or you were apart. There was nothing in between. If they had a place to themselves, they would have space as well as each other’s company. They would be able to conduct themselves like a normal couple. They wouldn’t have to make the most of every minute, which could add pressure to an already difficult situation, since they would have two whole days together. If they were to have a row (and of course she hoped very much that they would not), there would be time to make it up afterwards. Making up after an argument is difficult if you’ve only got a short time in which to do it, and sometimes when she and Jay parted, it was on patched-up rather than friendly terms — explanations still wanting, apologies unsaid, both of them feeling ill-used and unhappy.
If she was going to be away for the weekend, Alice realised that she would have to tell Finn in case he needed to contact her at home. This proved remarkably easy.
“Are you going with the boyfriend?” Finn asked (he appeared to be texting his friends at the same time as talking to her).
“Yes. Yes, I am,” Alice said.
“Great.” Finn’s thumbs moved over the tiny keyboard with astonishing speed, and Alice briefly wished he could apply himself as diligently to his schoolwork. “When will you be back?”
“Sunday afternoon. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Fine. Trot and I are doing a bike ride with one of his mates.”
“What about homework?”
“I’ll have done it by then.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” Finn grinned. “Trot says he’ll give me a tenner if I have it all done by Sunday.”
“That’s bribery!”
“Yeah. Great, isn’t it? You should try it sometime.”
Jay found the cottage on a website. It wasn’t ideal, being a bit farther away than they would have wished, and the setting — in the country, just, but near a large town — was not ideal. But as Jay pointed out, last-minute holidaymakers can’t be choosers, and it was a great deal better than the alternatives. Alice found herself looking forward eagerly to what would be their first whole weekend together. It was something they had often talked of, even planned, but never quite managed — something, she suspected, that neither of them had ever really expected to happen.
But right from the start, it was apparent that things weren’t going to go according to plan. Perhaps it was the heightened expectations, the pressure to enjoy themselves and make the most of an opportunity that might not come their way again. Locations and dates can be arranged — moods and emotions cannot — and from the moment they arrived at the cottage, Alice knew that she was in entirely the wrong frame of mind. She remembered feeling just the same one Christmas when she was a teenager. Her mother had made a huge effort, as always; the decorations, the meal, the tree were all perfect; Alice herself had received everything she could have wished for. And yet the imperative to have fun — to have a good time, to be nice to everyone, to enjoy every minute of the day — had proved too much, and she had ended up by spoiling it for everyone.
She felt exactly the same now, and while by her age, she certainly should have known better, within a couple of hours of their arrival, she found herself picking a quarrel with Jay.
“I said I’d cook dinner,” she said when Jay announced that he would like to do the cooking. “I was looking forward to making you a meal.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” Jay laid fillet steak and asparagus, raspberries and cream out on the kitchen worktop. “There. A feast fit for a king!”
But Alice was annoyed. She had said that she would shop for their first meal; she had planned it carefully and enjoyed doing it. Jay had agreed to provide the wine, and perhaps some crisps and olives.
“I’m not keen on asparagus,” she said, aware of how childish that sounded, but unable to stop herself.
“Everyone likes asparagus,” Jay said, breaking off the spears and putting them in a saucepan. His calmness was infuriating.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Never mind. I can eat it myself.”
This, of course, was entirely the wrong thing to say. Jay should have been apologetic; he should have realised he had been remiss in not consulting her first. He also ought to be concerned that while he was eating his bloody asparagus, Alice would be having to make do with salad. Alice was mature enough to know that she was being unreasonable and that she was risking sabotaging their precious weekend, but she was sufficiently infuriated not to care.
“I’ll wash the raspberries, shall I?” she said in what she hoped were icy tones.
“Already done,” said Jay cheerily, opening the champagne. “Come on, Alice. Have a drink.”
“I don’t feel like a drink.” Alice did feel like a drink, and as Jay knew only too well, she always felt like champagne (who didn’t?). But she continued to make her silly little stand. She seemed unable to stop herself.
“Alice, what is your problem?” Jay paused, glass in one hand, bottle in the other. “You seem determined to spoil this evening. What’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing’s the matter.”
“Of course something’s the matter. Tell me what it is, and we’ll sort it out.”
“I said, nothing’s the matter.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.” Jay tasted the champagne and poured himself a glassful. Apparently he had decided to ignore her ill temper.
“Nice champagne?” Alice asked.
“Excellent. I thought I’d bring a really good one to celebrate our weekend together. A shame I’m going to have to drink it on my own.”
“You’re really going to do that, are you? Drink champagne on your own?”
“Well, if you won’t join me, I’m going to have to, aren’t I? Now that the bottle’s open.”
“I don’t know how you can!”
Jay banged his glass down on the table. “You tell me that nothing’s the matter. I accept what you say. And now, apparently, that’s wrong too. What, exactly, am I supposed to do, Alice? Tell me how you want me to behave, and I’ll do my best to oblige.”
“I want you to stop controlling this — this relationship.”
“From where I’m standing, you’re the one in control. You’re the one hell-bent on spoiling our weekend. You’re the one who’s in a nasty mood. I’m not controlling anything!”
“Yes. Yes, you are. All this, everything we do, is controlled by you. You and your marriage. When we meet, when we can speak on the phone, the secrecy — everything. And now, when I plan to cook us a meal and have everything ready, you have to take control of that, too, and do it yourself. I’m not even allowed to cook for you. Everything — everything — is controlled by you.”
“But it’s you I’m doing it for.” Jay sat down at the table and ran his fingers through his hair. “Alice, why now? We’ve had this kind of conversation time and time again, and now that we have a chance to spend a whole weekend together, you spoil it by bringing it all up again. I don’t understand you, I really don’t.”
“No. You don’t, do you?”
“Bloody women!” Jay finally snapped. “You’re all the same!”
“Women? Do you mean the sainted Angela has moods, too? Oh dear. Poor Jay.”
“Don’t you bring Angela into this!”
“Oh no. I forgot. Angela must be protected at all costs, mustn’t she? Poor, blameless Angela, with her — with her precious bump and her nice pink nursery!” And to her hor
ror, she burst into tears.
“That,” said Jay, “was unworthy of you.” And ignoring the tears, he flung back his chair and left the room.
Alice had painted herself into a corner. She knew that she was being totally unreasonable. She knew she was being selfish and thoughtless and unkind, and that she had said some horrible things, entirely without provocation. Worst of all, she knew that if their weekend was to be saved from total wreckage, she had to be the one to do it. Jay had done everything he could to keep the peace; now it was her turn.
She opened the back door and stood for a moment on the step, taking in the night-smell of damp earth and leaves and grass. It was already dark outside, but a crescent moon hung suspended in the arc of the sky, as though from an invisible thread, surrounded by a flotilla of stars. Jay knew the names of many of them, and usually she enjoyed listening to him as he explained the different constellations.
She walked carefully across the tiny lawn, enjoying in spite of herself the feel of the turf beneath her bare feet and the cooling breeze against her cheeks. Looking up, she felt, as she always did, the unimportance of herself and of the world she inhabited in comparison with the hugeness of everything that lay beyond, and it made the pettiness of her behaviour seem even more trivial, stupid, unnecessary.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could take it all back. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I know you are.” She hadn’t heard Jay come up behind her, and now his arms encircled her waist. “I know you are.”
They stood for a few minutes in silence, watching the stars, listening to the soft sounds of the countryside. If she turned her head, Alice could hear the steady thump of Jay’s heartbeats under his thin cotton shirt, and the soft sound of his breathing.
“That’s Orion.” Jay pointed. “See his belt across the middle?”
Alice nodded. “I really am sorry,” she said. “Terribly sorry. I’ve no idea what got into me.”
“Haven’t you? Haven’t you really?” Jay turned her to face him.
She shook her head.
“Things have been difficult for a while,” Jay said.
The Frances Garrood Collection Page 48