“You really are made of stone!” Sarah cried.
Joey laughed, pulled away and walked toward the edge of the balcony. “Most people I tell that story to think that it’s the most romantic thing they’ve ever heard.”
“Most people you tell that story to are country bumpkins. With husbands who didn’t take them to the top of a tower to soften them up before they popped the big question.”
For a moment, Joey thought Sarah was laughing, too, but when she turned to look at her friend, she realised that she was anything but amused.
“You think Henry felt that he had to flatter me? Tell the ditsy little woman a pretty story before going in for the –?” Sarah broke off.
“No, I’m not saying that. It’s just that, well, Henry is a lawyer, Sarah. He knows how to make a case.”
Sarah glared at her. “I don’t get you sometimes, Joey. You’re your own worst enemy.” Abruptly, she turned to head back inside.
“What do you mean by that?”
Sarah paused and looked back. “You give people so little credit. You’re always questioning everyone’s motives, as though you just can’t imagine someone doing something out of simple human kindness or generosity of spirit.” Sarah wheel-ed around and disappeared into the darkness of the tower.
“Sarah!” Joey followed her inside. “I’m not criticising Henry. I love Henry!” And now a dark thought occurred to her. “Is everything okay with you two?”
Sarah stopped walking and looked Joey in the eye.
“It’s more than okay. This is not about Henry. Or me.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about you!” Sarah shot back. “I want to see you happy.”
“You think I don’t want to be happy?”
“I want to see you – with someone. And you don’t make that easy.”
Now tears pricked at the back of Joey’s eyes. Did she really have to spell this out? Could Sarah possibly not understand what she had been through in the past six months?
“He left me, Sarah,” she blurted out.
“I know. I understand what you’ve been through. But if you wall yourself off from every well-meaning gesture and innocent pleasantry, you might scare away the real thing.”
“I had the real thing,” Joey insisted.
“No you didn’t,” Sarah said softly.
They were quiet on the drive to Snowshill Stables. Once again, without meaning to at all, Joey had managed to upset her friend. In Sarah’s defence, Joey thought, gazing out at the passing countryside, it would be hard not to be romantic when surrounded by hills and trees and fields so vibrant that they looked like an illustration from a children’s book.
Of course, Sarah had been influenced by the ancient beauty of the landscape. Who wouldn’t be? Her old friend hadn’t disappeared; somewhere inside the jolly, competent British “mum” had to be Joey’s “New York Sarah”, the Sarah who sat around in her pyjamas, laughing at corny love stories on late night TV and picking peanut brittle from her braces. Joey sighed as she gazed off at the dusky hills. She missed that person. She hadn’t even realised how much she missed her until she arrived in England and met not the old pal she was hoping to see, but someone else entirely.
They pulled into the car park of Snowshill Stables, where the children had spent the morning riding. The wind had got up, blowing ominous clouds over the expansive grounds. Joey had been dreading this all morning. She would have given anything to get out of it. Apart from Tink, who was probably starting to get restless back at Stanway House, Joey was not a huge fan of animals, or of standing around in the freezing cold watching small children ride them.
Joey trudged behind Sarah with all the enthusiasm of a woman on her way to have a root canal. They wove through the huddles of parents and grandparents, all dressed against the cold. Few looked happy, Joey noted; she obviously wasn’t the only one who would have preferred to be inside with a hot cup of tea – or something stronger – in front of a roaring fire.
The atmosphere was alarmingly tense as pint-sized equestrians put their ponies and horses through their paces. She could hardly stand to watch as children who looked no older than four held on for dear life while their mounts cantered, trotted and pranced. Joey glanced around at the spectators, half hoping that a little altercation might break out and relieve the oppressive tension. But good manners seemed to be holding the crowd in check.
“Henry!” Sarah called, glimpsing her husband at the edge of the ring. She grabbed Joey’s hand and pulled her through the people to where Henry was standing. Joey felt embarrassed, being dragged through the masses like one of Sarah’s children, but she didn’t protest.
“We didn’t miss it, did we?” Joey scanned the faces of the children in jodhpurs and riding helmets.
“Chris is doing the two foot six course,” Sarah explained, having located her son at the other side of the ring. “Matilda and Timmy are trying the mini round.”
Henry bent down and produced a wide homemade banner with the kids’ names scrawled across it. This struck Joey as embarrassingly hokey and partisan. Weren’t grown-ups supposed to cheer for all the children, and not just their own?
“Kill it, Chris! You can do it!” Henry screamed.
“You’re number one!” Sarah chanted. “You’re number one!”
Joey glanced around uncomfortably and took a couple of steps backward as Henry and Sarah continued to cheer and holler. She would have died if anyone had done that to her when she was a kid. Between the shouting and the banner, she wouldn’t be surprised if the kids refused to get in the car with them for the trip back home. At a moment when Sarah was shouting so passionately that it looked as though she might burst a vein, Joey slipped back through the crowd, searching for a spot on one of the benches near the barn.
“Had enough?” she heard someone ask. Peering at the tall, elegant woman in the headscarf and muddy boots, Joey realised that it was Aggie. She smiled, headed over and sat down beside her.
“You’re a good grandmother,” Joey said.
Aggie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I adore the children, I really do. And I like coming out to support them. But the shouting and screeching is so ludicrous. I can’t stand to be in the middle of it.”
“I thought it was just me,” Joey said.
“No, it’s not,” Aggie replied. “And the whole rigmarole is endless. One thinks it’s nearly over and another lot trot up! I’ve been here for three hours… I really should have my head examined.”
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden gasp from the crowd. Joey and Aggie stood up to see what was going on. A horse had refused at a jump, and its young rider had landed bottom-first in a puddle. Joey drew in a sharp breath and felt her stomach muscles tense.
“She’s fine,” Aggie said. “It’s terribly good for the character, all this mucking about in the wet and the mud. I’m all for it. I only wish I didn’t have to sit here and watch.”
“Your ears must have been burning this morning,” Joey said as they both sat down.
“How so?”
“Sarah told me you swam the English Channel. I can’t believe you didn’t mention it after I all but drowned you trying to – save you!”
Aggie gave just a hint of a smile. “It’s not the sort of thing I mention when I first meet someone.”
“That’s really impressive. Three times!”
“You run, don’t you?” Aggie asked.
Joey nodded. “Almost every day. I love it.”
“Have you even run a marathon?”
“I think about it, every so often. I’ve just never wanted to devote that much time to training. It’s like having another job.”
“It would be a thrill, though, wouldn’t it?” Aggie asked. “To set a goal like that for yourself and achieve it.”
“It would. No question. I should think about it.”
“You should,” Aggie said, turning to focus again on the action in the ring.
They sat in companionable silence. At t
he age when Joey had been choosing her major and foisting herself on anyone who could help her build a network of connections, Aggie had been striking out from the white cliffs of Dover, all greased up and ready to go. Joey could hardly imagine navigating the choppy, freezing shipping lanes of the English Channel. Then again, Joey had always had to work for a living and Aggie had not. There were a lot of adventures one could have in life when one came from a background like Aggie’s.
“Did your husband really charter a yacht on your anniversary so you could sail along your route?”
“He did,” Aggie answered simply. She smiled at the reminiscence and sighed.
“It was fabulous, as was he. I never saw myself marrying, really. Or rather, I should say, I had never given a moment’s thought to it, one way or the other.
“But you can’t control everything, all of the time. Sometimes fate just throws you something – or someone – out of the blue.” Her eyes twinkled. “I take my hat off to Independent You. Unfortunately, we can’t all of us be fabulously single. Times were different when I was young.”
Before Joey could react, they both caught a glimpse of Sarah jumping up and down like a rabbit, and Henry cheering by her side.
“Looks like we’d better get up there,” Aggie said, rising with ease from the bench and moving toward the crowd of spectators. “After all this time waiting, we don’t want to miss the five minutes that matter.”
Joey followed her toward the crowd, puzzled by the tone of Aggie’s words. Did she regret her marriage and family life? Joey peered over the heads of men and women as Aggie manoeuvred toward the front.
It was Matilda who had cantered out proudly. She looked tiny in the ring, as her fat little pony gave a swish of its tail. As her name was called, she kicked her pony forward.
Her face was pale and tight with concentration. Sarah let out a cheer and Henry called out his daughter’s name. A woman in the front row, who, in Joey’s opinion, looked rather horsy herself, turned around and scowled. Joey scowled back.
“Go, Matilda! Come on, girl. We love you, honey!”
Sarah and Henry were shouting at the top of their lungs. To Joey’s surprise, far from dying of shame, Matilda looked up, scanned the faces in the crowd, found her mother and father with their horrendous banner, and broke into an enormous grin. Then, with a swift kick of her foot, she goaded her pony into motion.
They all held their breath as Matilda began her routine. So did the crowd, it seemed, and soon Joey understood why: all of the other parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, wanted Matilda to fail. There was an audible groan each time Matilda cleared a hurdle. Henry and Sarah, intentionally oblivious, just cheered more loudly.
Joey watched it all with a strange feeling of detachment. It was not that she wasn’t happy for them all, just, this wasn’t her world, this cosy little universe of family. It was so – embarrassingly intimate.
And yet.
There was something so openhearted and genuine about Henry and Sarah at that moment. They would have done anything to support their little girl, to support all of their children. And was this not what it was all about, really? Not just cooking and nursing and overseeing homework, scolding and washing and teaching and guiding. Most importantly, it was about this kind of affection and love.
Matilda was a good little rider. Even Joey, who knew nothing about showjumping, was wowed. Having cleared three jumps, a white gate and a cross-bar, she and her pony cantered the length of the ring toward a tricky double.
Joey glanced over at Sarah, who looked like she might actually burst with pride. Henry was concentrating fiercely, as though he could will Matilda to success. Aggie grinned from ear to ear.
Oh God, Joey thought, as Matilda turned to face the jump. Don’t let her hesitate. Let her make it.
The crowd had gone silent. Joey could almost feel the hostility of the crowd and could barely keep herself from shouting, “What is wrong with you people? She’s a baby!”
In truth, though, there was nothing baby-like about Matilda at this moment. Features set, eyes on the final bar, she kicked her pony toward it, and with a precise thwack of her crop, sailed over it, landing safely on the other side.
Henry and Sarah burst into wild cheering. Joey joined in the clapping, and Aggie beamed and waved toward her granddaughter. The rest of the crowd applauded half-heartedly.
Matilda grinned at her parents, slid off the pony and led him by the reins to the edge of the ring closest to where Sarah, Henry and Aggie were standing. Joey drifted away. She wasn’t a member of this family. Until two days ago, she could have passed Matilda on the street and not known who she was. This was a moment that belonged to the family, whether Joey liked it or not.
She felt for her BlackBerry in her pocket. What had people done before the invention of personal technology to make themselves look busy in awkward situations?
She had two or three dozen new emails. She scanned the subject lines quickly: almost all were from work and could wait until tomorrow or the next day. Her hopes were raised by several addresses she recognised but couldn’t immediately place, but none of these emails turned out to be very interesting. An acquaintance she had little in common with was inviting her to join a book group. No. Another was requesting – for the third time! – that she sign up for Facebook. Arrgh. There was a reminder that she had an appointment to have her teeth cleaned in three weeks. Great. And spam that had somehow gotten through her filter: ads for rodent removal, drugs for female “pleasure enhancement” and offers of deep discounts on online photo reproduction.
“Joey, I simply cannot believe you!”
Joey looked up to see Sarah glaring in her direction. Sarah’s nostrils were flaring as they had when she was a teenager and was about to have a tantrum.
“You’re checking emails?” Sarah screeched. “For God’s sake, do you ever stop thinking about yourself?”
Joey was shocked. She hadn’t been thinking about herself, she had been trying to look busy. And what did Sarah expect? They’d been hanging out in the bloody cold for close to two hours. Was this Sarah’s idea of fun?
But before she could reply, Sarah turned away, shaking her head. Joey put her BlackBerry in her pocket, but she knew her cheeks were reddening. She had been stung by the bitterness in her friend’s voice. She retreated to the bench near the barn, and in moments, Aggie was settling in beside her.
“Hot toddy, dear? You look like you could use it.”
To Joey’s surprise, Aggie extended the lid of a flask to Joey and produced a small plastic cup for herself. “Down the hatch!” she ordered. Joey obeyed, feeling the warmth spread from her mouth to her throat to her chest.
“Ignore her,” Aggie said. “She gets tense at these things. I can see how close you two are.”
Joey gave her a look. Close? She felt a million miles away from her friend.
“You are,” Aggie insisted. “You fight like sisters. No holds barred. Mere friends don’t fight that way.”
Joey was grateful for her words and would have liked to have talked with Aggie about this, but she wasn’t sure she felt comfortable discussing Sarah with her own mother-in-law. If anything she said got back to Sarah, Joey would have even more problems on her hands than she did now. She felt it best to change the subject.
“You sounded – mixed. Before.”
“Mixed?” Aggie said. “About what?”
“Marriage,” Joey whispered.
Aggie nodded and paused to think before she spoke. Finally she turned and looked at Joey fondly.
“I loved my husband. I love Henry and Sarah and I adore the children. I can barely imagine what my life would have been like if I had never married. But I rather think I would have liked being a working girl in the big city.”
“It has its joys,” Joey said quietly. “And its difficulties.”
“Like everything in life,” Aggie mused. “What made you choose the work you do? I gather you’re very successful.”
“Oh, it looks
that way, does it? Well, I’m glad.”
“No false modesty, dear,” Aggie chided. “Don’t diminish your achievements.”
Joey looked up quickly. “I answered an ad in the New York Times the week after I graduated from NYU. I had student loans to pay off and I had to support myself. I came in at the ground level of my firm, as an assistant to one of the partners. I’ve been there ever since.”
“But how did you get into what you’re doing now?”
“They paid for me to go to graduate school. I took two courses a semester, for five years. Got a combined architecture and design degree.”
“Impressive. I admire a woman who’s worked her way up. You must be very proud of yourself.”
Joey shrugged. “I work hard – and sometimes, I have to admit, I resent the fact that I seem to have to work harder than the men in my business just to stay at the same level… But I really like what I do. I get restless if I’m not busy. I don’t like that about myself, but it’s true. I don’t do well on vacations.”
“No, I can see that.”
“Really?”
Aggie nodded kindly. “You remind me of myself.”
“I’m flattered. But to be honest, I don’t see the resemblance. I’m a bit of a loner.”
“So am I.”
“I think I sometimes scare men off.” The words had slipped out before Joey had time to censor herself. What had made her say this?
“Many men like to be or to think that they’re smarter than their women,” Aggie responded.
Joey smiled. “I’m really happy at work. I love seeing old spaces and figuring out how to preserve the beauty of what they have, what they are. It’s creative, yet really grounded in the world. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”
“You’re lucky to feel that way. And they’re lucky to have you.”
Joey grimaced.
“And is there a special someone in the picture?” Aggie surprised her by asking. “Man or woman. I don’t care a whit either way.”
Joey paused before answering. “There was. A man.”
“Past tense?”
“He fell in love with someone else.”
The J M Barrie Ladies' Swimming Society Page 10