“I don’t want that to happen!” Sarah cried. “I want you to be with someone! I want you to be happy.”
“But not with Ian. And not here.”
“I’d love to have you here!”
“I don’t really think you would, Sarah. I think you like being the happily married mother of four, all settled and blissful in England. As opposed to me, the lonely single dysfunctional woman who’s given everything up for her career and who’s the perfect foil for everything you have got right in your life: the poor friend who will never be happy. I think that arrangement suits you just fine.”
Sarah gave a little gasp on the other end of the phone. When she spoke again, her voice was tearful. “If you really think that, you don’t know me very well.”
“I did, once. You were my sister.”
“Before you stopped noticing when my children were born,” Sarah shot back. “Before you couldn’t make it to our wedding, before you started to think of me as the person you never wanted to be.”
“I never thought of you that way!”
“No?”
“No!”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Did you come to New York when my mother died? No. Did you even respond to the invitation to my father’s wedding? I wanted you there. I needed you. Both times. The hurts go both ways, Sarah.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, “I really am.” She paused for a long while before speaking again. “So I guess we have two choices here. We can give up, just decide that our relationship has run its course. No hard feelings, part as friends.”
“Or?” Joey asked.
“Forget who we used to be, way back when. Forget all the ways we’ve hurt each other since then. Forget what we think we know about each other and start over. From scratch. Turn the page.”
Joey felt relieved by the clarity in Sarah’s voice. She was being truthful. They could now stop pretending that they were close, that nothing could ever ruin their friendship.
“Too much time has gone by,” Sarah whispered. “I hoped that we’d be able to pick things up where we left off, but too much has happened.”
“I know. I want to try to – reconnect.”
“I’d like to want to,” Sarah said, “but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I do. Because I can’t go halfway, Joey. I won’t go halfway. If we’re going to be in each other’s lives, then we really have to be in each other’s lives. That’s the only kind of friendship I want.”
“Okay,” Joey said. “I guess we’ll – think about it.”
“Okay,” Sarah replied. And with that, she put down the phone.
Chapter 19
Joey shifted on the pillow, and stretched her legs down into the warmth of the bed. Ian was dozing beside her, his arm gently resting on her stomach. A shaft of grey moonlight glowed on the windows. How had this happened? she wondered. Her tense phone conversation with Sarah seemed a lifetime ago. Ian had come to invite her for a glass of wine to run through the preliminary punch list provided by Massimo. One minute they had been sipping their drinks and talking shop, the next they’d been trading glances. Joey had imagined that their coming together would be tender and maybe even a little poignant, but in the last hour, Ian had conducted himself less like the cool, upstanding Scot he had purported to be, and more like a man in the grip of a fever.
Lily! Joey suddenly thought with alarm.
Ian opened his eyes when Joey leaned down for the duvet and covered him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he whispered as she reached for her camisole and jeans.
“I can’t stay.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I can’t be here when Lily wakes up.”
“I’ll set the alarm. You can leave at six. We’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Once she is asleep, she’s dead to the world. I have to drag her out of bed in the morning.”
“You sure?”
“I am. Come here.”
He lifted the duvet and drew her toward him.
“Dad?”
Joey opened her eyes. Lily was standing in the bedroom doorway.
“Joey?”
Ian flew to a sitting position and Joey reached for the covers. “What the –?” Ian picked up the clock and shook it, as though the gesture might turn back time and undo the present awkwardness of his daughter standing in the doorway.
“It’s seven thirty,” Lily said calmly.
“It’s not what you think, Lily,” Ian said reflexively.
She cocked her head and gave him a wry stare. “No? Come on, Dad. Give me a little credit.”
“I’m sorry!” Joey blurted out, putting an arm out and reaching for her jeans. “It’s all my fault, I –”
“For what?” Lily asked. “Shagging my dad?”
“Lily!” Ian snapped.
“Oh, excuse me,” Lily said, beginning to grin. “You were just – sleeping, right?”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Ian said, stepping into his trousers and pulling on his sweater.
“What’s to talk about? I’m cool with it, Dad.”
“I am so sorry,” Joey repeated.
“I’m not,” Lily replied, turning on her heels and heading down the hall. Ian raced after her and Joey buried her head in her hands. She knew she should have left! She should never have let Ian talk her into it. She would give them a few moments alone downstairs. Get dressed, wash her face and pull herself together, and then go down and say a calm, dignified goodbye.
She went into the bathroom, and on the spur of the moment decided to take a quick shower. She turned the water on as hot as she could stand and lathered up her arms, her face, her hair, then stepped into the cool bathroom air and towelled off and got dressed. She debated making the bed, then resolved it was probably better that she leave the house as soon as possible. Ian was no doubt furious with her. Lily would be deciding right now that no, come to think of it, she wasn’t cool with it, she wasn’t cool with it at all…
Maybe Sarah had been right, Joey thought. She was being selfish, putting her own needs and desires before those of two people she claimed to care about. She was being stupid and reckless.
As she began to descend the staircase, Joey heard the doorbell ringing. Lily padded across the space in her stocking feet and opened the front door just as Joey reached the halfway landing. There, in the doorway, stood Lilia.
“Grandma!” Lily said. She glanced at Joey in alarm as Lilia stepped inside, as yet oblivious to Joey’s presence. Joey stood as still as she could. Perhaps, if she didn’t breathe and didn’t move a muscle, Lilia would somehow fail to see her. Lilia was fumbling with her handbag right now, and maybe, just maybe, Lily would lead her across the hall and into the kitchen, and Joey would be able to make her escape.
But Lily paused. She looked up and gave Joey a smile and nod: “Grandma, you know Joey Rubin, don’t you?”
Lilia snapped to attention. Her eyes took in Joey’s wet hair, the rumpled clothing that had clearly seen Joey through at least one day, the glow in her cheeks. She opened her mouth to speak, but only a little gasp came out.
“Good morning, Lilia,” Joey said softly.
Suddenly, Ian was by his daughter’s side. “Lilia,” he said, looking alarmed. “Christ, how could I have forgotten?”
The old woman appeared to disintegrate. “Your own wife’s birthday,” she said, so quietly that they could barely hear her words. “Am I supposed to go to the churchyard on my own this year?”
“Of course not,” Ian said kindly. “We’ll go just like we always do. But come and sit down for a minute. Have a cup of tea.”
He reached for the woman’s arm, but she was shaking her head in disbelief, staring at Joey.
“What are you doing here?” Lilia asked.
“She’s our guest,” Ian said simply.
“But – but this is my daughter’s house,” Lilia said, emotion beginning to rise.
“It’s our house, Grandma!” Lily said d
efiantly.
“You stay out of this!” Ian said to Lily.
“No! I won’t. This is my house, too!” She glanced at Joey. “And I’m glad she’s here!”
“Lily!” Ian said sternly. “Go upstairs! Now!”
“No!” She crossed her arms and came closer to Joey.
“Now!” Ian shouted.
Lily shot him a furious glare and raced past Joey and up the stairs.
“I’ll go,” Joey whispered. “I should go.”
“You should never have come!” Lilia screeched. “On my daughter’s birthday? You have the nerve to, no the cruelty to –”
“Lilia,” Ian said, “Come now, there’s no need to –”
He tried to take her by the arm but she shook him off. “My daughter’s house! My daughter’s husband!” She turned to Joey, bitterness in her voice. “Who are you? Everywhere I turn, you’re there – worming your way into places you don’t belong, cosying up –”
“I’m sorry,” Joey said. “I truly am. It was never my intention to be anywhere I wasn’t welcome or do anything that might hurt someone.”
“Well you did!” Lilia shot back.
“Then I’m really and truly sorry. I’ll go now.” She turned to Ian. “I’ll talk to you later.”
Ian nodded. Joey crossed the hall, eased herself around Lilia, who in her anger had begun to cry, and closed the gatehouse door behind her.
As she crossed the gravel, she thought she could hear Lily shouting. She was furious herself at this moment, but not because she had done anything she really considered to be wrong. Ian was a grown man and she was a grown woman, and neither one was attached. Why shouldn’t they snatch at happiness? Didn’t they have the same right as everyone else to try to wring a little joy from relationships with the people who happened to cross their path in life?
Of course they did, she consoled herself with thinking. It wasn’t that. It was just – painful and awkward the way things had played out, and all because she had been too caught up in her own pleasure to do what she knew she should have done: if only she had got up and left in the middle of the night.
She usually dreaded early walks with Tink, wishing she didn’t have to brave the streets – or here, the fields and woods – first thing. But today, she knew that a walk was just what she needed. She would take Tink way, way out, past where Thunder and Maggie were stabled, to the far corner of the estate, and maybe, just maybe, she would be able to figure out how to put all this to rights, with Ian, with Lily, with Sarah, even with Lilia. She was glad she didn’t have any contractors coming by this morning. She wouldn’t come back to Stanway House until she had a plan.
Chapter 20
Ian was just pulling his van into the spot beside the gatehouse when Joey came out of the front door. She had tramped through the hills and woods with Tink for nearly two hours, had coffee and breakfast, and by all rights, she should have been feeling at least a little bit better by now. But nothing had worked. Not the brisk, fresh air, nor the scent of French Roast dripping through the coffee filter, which always filled her with a sense of optimism about the coming day. She kept replaying the scene at the foot of Ian’s staircase, Lilia nearly breathless with shock and fury, Ian standing helplessly by, Lily filled with righteous anger at her own grandmother. And all of it, every bit of it, because of Joey.
That didn’t even factor in the upsetting conversation with Sarah, which Joey had managed to put out of her mind during the time when she was with Ian. Years ago, she wouldn’t have given a second thought to an argument like the one they’d had. Growing up, they’d always disagreed about things, easily, passionately and loudly. But they’d also been so close, their lives so intertwined, that a squabble would blow over like a sudden, dramatic cloudburst.
This felt different, very different. Their lives weren’t intertwined any more, and Sarah had actually said that she just wasn’t interested in having the kind of friendship they’d had for the past fifteen years. Joey wondered whether, deep down, Sarah was even interested in having the kind of relationship they’d had for the fifteen years before that. Joey had the distinct feeling that her oldest friend in the world just didn’t really like her any more.
Ian glimpsed Joey on the steps and paused. Joey could tell that he wished they hadn’t run into each other just now, which made her wish she could pretend not to have seen him and step behind one of the stone columns. But now he was coming toward her, his shoulders hunched, his face drained and pale.
“I’m so sorry,” was all she could think to whisper.
Ian shook his head. “She was out of line.”
Joey waited for Ian to go on, but he seemed withdrawn, preoccupied.
“And Lily,” Joey said. “I feel terrible. I should have left.”
“You tried,” he said quietly. A smile flickered briefly then faded. Ian seemed very far away, so far that it was hard for Joey to imagine that just hours earlier, they had been blissfully entangled. Now, an awkward silence hung in the late morning air, and Joey was at a loss as to what to do to make anything better.
“Lily in school?” she finally asked, a little too cheerfully.
“She didn’t want to go in late –”
“Why was she late?’
“We went to – Cait’s – to the churchyard. We always do, just not first thing in the morning.”
Joey sighed, now feeling a surprising flash of anger. She was doing everything she could to be sensitive to everyone else, but she had feelings, too. The morning’s events had been embarrassing, if not downright humiliating. “Then why did Lilia come by this morning? Why did she just – show up like that?”
“Why does she do anything?” Ian said angrily. “It was what she wanted to do. She’s so blinded by her own – I’m sorry.” Ian struggled to keep his feelings in check. “I know the woman’s to be pitied, but sometimes …”
“You lost Cait, too,” Joey said quietly. “So did Lily.”
Ian set his jaw firmly. Joey reached out to comfort him, but instead of welcoming her touch, his arms seemed to tense and stiffen. He shook his head and pulled away, then hurried into the gatehouse.
Stunned, Joey stood for several moments, watching a few scattered snowflakes drift onto the gravel. The sky had clouded over in the last half hour and portended rain or snow. Slowly, she ascended the steps to the house and let herself in. She was grateful that she didn’t have any appointments later in the day. Massimo, who’d been given a full set of keys, was now coming and going on his own, having assumed full responsibility for the first stage of renovations. She doubted that she’d be able to concentrate on paperwork. For a brief moment, she yearned for the comfortable routine of a busy office bubbling along around her. There was always someone to talk to at work, someone to entice out for a drink at the end of the day. In a way that she never did at home in New York, Joey felt totally and utterly alone.
What would help? she wondered, climbing the staircase to the apartment. She couldn’t talk to Sarah. She didn’t feel like a run, not after hiking for two hours this morning. She wasn’t hungry, she wasn’t thirsty, she was too keyed up to take a nap. For once in her adult life, she actually wished she had a more demanding work schedule, so she would have no choice but to buckle down and get focused. But there wasn’t really much she could do until Massimo completed the first round of consultations and came back to her with all the specifics.
Tink perked up when Joey came in.
“Lousy,” Joey said, “but thanks for asking.”
Tink cocked her head, puzzled.
“Go back to sleep,” Joey said.
Tink watched her warily for several moments, then laid her head on her paws with a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
Joey tidied up the room, folded the clothes she had thrown over chairs and made the bed. She browsed the bookcase for a title that might intrigue her: a PD James mystery? A biography of Nancy Mitford? A volume of Keats’ poetry? Nothing seemed right, and she was pretty sure that she would have felt
the same way even if she had at her fingertips every volume in the British Library. She flopped down on the bed, lay for a few moments staring at the ceiling. But it was no good. She longed for company – distraction. What she needed was someone – anyone! – to talk to. She would walk into the village, buy some groceries, sit in the Old Bake House and have a cup of tea. She might even walk over to the pond.
But what if Lilia were there? No, Lilia wouldn’t be there, Joey reasoned, not swimming, not on the anniversary of Cait’s death, and if by chance she was, then Joey would act as though nothing had happened. She would be pleasant and nice, not because she hoped to win Lilia over, but because it was the right thing to do. Forty years ago today, Lilia had given birth to a baby girl, now buried in St. Peter’s Churchyard. If that didn’t entitle a person to a little understanding and sympathy, then Joey didn’t know what did.
It was snowing steadily by the time she reached the pond. The path through the trees was carpeted with powdery fluff and the canopy formed by the leaves was dusted with white. Joey had found herself in tears in the tea shop, unable to shake the images of the morning: Lilia raging in the doorway, Ian turning away and hurrying into the gatehouse, leaving her speechless and alone in the cold morning air. Joey had reached for her purse and drawn out money for her tea and scone. She left the shop without finishing either and found herself on the road leading to the pond.
Her breathing relaxed as she walked to the edge of platform and stood looking at the water. Its serenity and beauty calmed her, as though its stillness were putting to rest all her anxious thoughts and fears.
“Joey? Is that you?”
Meg was swimming toward the shore, surrounded by Viv, Gala and Aggie. Joey scanned the surface of the water carefully; was Lilia with them? But she could see only four bathing caps, bobbing about like children’s beach balls.
Relieved, Joey felt her spirits lifting. “You’re all crazy!” she called. “Don’t you know it’s snowing?”
The J M Barrie Ladies' Swimming Society Page 17