by Annie Lyons
‘Well look, I should go. Thanks for the coffee,’ he says, rising to his feet and picking up the bin-bag. Emma looks up at him and feels utterly crushed. She longs to put her arms around him and tell him how sorry she is but it’s as if she can’t get near him any more. She follows him down the hall. He doesn’t kiss her goodbye. He just gets into his car and starts the engine, but before he drives off, he glances at her and gives her a small, resigned wave goodbye. She watches him until he has driven off and his car is a tiny speck in the distance.
‘Explain it to me again,’ demands Lily.
Rachel takes a deep breath.
‘Mum and Dad don’t like each other and they are going to live apart so that when they see each other again, they can decide if they do like each other any more. It’s called a trial separation. If they don’t like each other any more, they will get a divorce,’ says Will plainly.
Alfie looks alarmed and grabs his mother’s sleeve. ‘Noooo, Mummy,’ he says, eyes wide and brimming with tears.
‘Alfie, it’s OK. Will, it’s not like that. Where do you get these things from?’ asks Rachel.
‘School mostly. Ethan’s parents are divorced and Dee’s and Jessie’s and Mason’s. Lauren’s are separated and Ella’s dad has run off with the au pair,’ says Will with grave authority. ‘It’s OK Mum. It happens all the time.’
‘Well, it’s not happening to us,’ says Rachel, hoping that this isn’t a lie. ‘Life is complicated when you’re a grown-up and Daddy and I just need a little time apart to think about everything and sort stuff out.’
‘Well, I think it’s crap!’ says Lily suddenly.
‘OK, well, you shouldn’t use that word but you are right, of course,’ says Rachel.
‘And it’s your fault,’ continues Lily, pointing a finger at her mother.
‘That’s rude, Lily,’ says Will.
‘No, it’s OK, Will. Let her speak. Go on, Lily, what have I done wrong?’
‘Well, you’re always nagging us and Daddy. It’s like you don’t even really want to be here. I mean why don’t you go and get a job in Tesco like Shamil’s mum? She’s always really smiley and happy and Shamil says she hardly ever shouts, whereas you shout all the time.’
‘Is that what you really think?’ asks Rachel quietly.
‘Yes!’ says Lily firmly. ‘And the boys agree with me, don’t you boys?’ Will and Alfie look at the floor and murmur something approaching the affirmative.
‘Right, well, OK then. Thank you for telling me,’ says Rachel feeling as if she’s been punched. ‘The important thing is that I don’t want you to worry. You’ll still see Daddy as much as possible and we are not getting divorced.’ Yet, says her brain.
The boys nod sadly but Lily is still in fighting mood. ‘Yeah, whatever. Why do grown-ups always says things are complicated when what they really mean is “we’re not going to tell you what’s really going on”?’
‘OK, detective Lily, you are very clever but there are some things that just grown-ups have to know about, OK?’ says Rachel.
‘Well, I still think it’s crap,’ says Lily defiantly.
Rachel looks at her daughter and cannot disagree. She decides to change tack. ‘I think we all deserve a treat. Who’s for ice cream?’
‘Me!’ chorus Will and Alfie.
‘Lily?’
Lily looks at her mother as if she were a piece of raw sewage. ‘I don’t want anything from you!’ she says, rushing up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.
Rachel feels miserable as she goes into the kitchen, filling the boy’s bowls with too much ice cream and a multitude of toppings as if she can soothe away the pain with sugar. A heavy mood has descended upon the house. The boys are happy with their ice cream and then slope off to watch cartoons, but Rachel is disturbed by the eerie quiet. Feeling exhausted by life, she considers a nap on the sofa with her TV-watching sons but this plan is interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at the door. Expecting an unwanted visitor, she is relieved to find the smiling forms of Sue and Christa bearing two large slab bars of Dairy Milk, a jumbo bag of Doritos and carrier bags making happy, clinking sounds.
‘We thought you could do with some company,’ says Sue, stepping over the threshold and wrapping her friend in the tightest hug.
Christa kisses her on both cheeks and pulls two bottles of champagne out of her bag. ‘Right, mein Schatz, Susan und I will put the Kinder to Bett, Ja? You go and pour a large glass of this and we’ll see you in half an hour, OK?’
‘OK,’ says Rachel, feeling her eyes brim with tears again.
‘Nein, nein. We are not doing the weinen and the weeping this evening. This is very good Kristal. We are going to drink to your papa and to your future, with or without Steve, yes?’ Sue is standing behind Christa grinning all the while.
‘OK,’ says Rachel, ‘but if you’re not quick, I will eat all the Dairy Milk.’
‘Ahh, you’re welcome. Just don’t drink all the booze!’ says Christa.
An hour later, Rachel is laughing hard, but can’t remember why. Christa has just told them a story involving Paris Hilton and a pig, which made Sue snort Kristal through her nose. Christa had become quite serious and chided her for wasting it. Rachel is enjoying the easy banter and can’t remember the last time she laughed so much.
‘So, Rachel, what are you going to do?’ says Christa suddenly.
Rachel is still giggling but tries to answer her. ‘Oh I don’t know. I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I? I mean fancy trying to cop off with your neighbour?’
‘What is this “cop”?’ asks Christa looking confused, ‘is it etwas to do with policemen?’
Rachel and Sue dissolve into hysterical fits of giggles before Rachel calms down enough to say. ‘No, I mean I tried to seduce him.’
‘Ach ja. You mean Dom or Tom or whatever?’
‘Tom.’
‘Ja. Sehr gut. Well, I don’t blame you, but your Steve is a very handsome man too. Are you just a bored Hausfrau perhaps?’
‘I dunno. Maybe. All I know is that I need to do something before I fall into some sort of life of depravity.’
‘Ja, this happened to my schwester-in-law,’ says Christa slowly. Rachel and Sue exchange glances.
‘Oh really,’ says Sue, her voice tight with laughter. ‘What happened?’
‘Well, she was living with my brother, Bruno, in a beautiful house in suburbs of Berne. Had everything, you know; the house, the husband, the kids, the money.’
‘And?’ says Sue waiting for the punchline.
‘Ach, she got bored. The kids were at Schule, she did not need to work and so she became a, how-you-say, madam?’
‘You mean a prostitute?’ says Rachel.
Christa throws back her head and shrieks with laughter. ‘Nein, mein Schatz, she wouldn’t sell her pussy for money, she is very in love with my brother. Nein, she runs an escort agency, you know, very high class, for businessmen. It is a very successful business. She is one of the richest women in Switzerland,’ says Christa proudly.
‘Well,’ says Sue, her face serious for a moment. ‘There’s a career path you hadn’t previously considered, Rach.’ She looks at her friend, poker-faced and they erupt into another fit of laughter.
Christa looks at them smiling and uncertain but happy to go along with the joke. ‘More Kristal, girls?’ she says.
‘Don’t mind if I do,’ says Sue topping up their glasses. ‘And I would like to propose a toast.’ The three friends sit up in readiness. Sue lifts her glass. ‘To Rachel and her future, wherever it may lead her. She is a better mum than she realises and a truly beautiful friend.’
‘And she has great tits,’ adds Christa with a wink.
‘Christa!’ says Rachel. ‘I never knew you cared.’
‘Sweetie,’ says Christa. ‘I am a very flexible and open lady. So if you ever get lonely, you just give me a call. Now, where is the loo?’
Rachel points her towards the stairs and then collapses with helple
ss laughter again.
‘Well,’ says Sue laughing. ‘I’ll give her one thing, she certainly knows how to take a girl’s mind off things. Now top up my glass, will you? We’re not nearly drunk enough yet!’
Chapter 27
Emma drums her fingers on the coffee shop bar, impatient at having to wait for her morning latte. Calm down, she tells herself. You have to calm down. Today is her first day back at work and she is nervous.
‘Just a black coffee please, Gio, no mess, no froth and none of those filthy syrups,’ booms a familiarly assertive voice.
‘Morning Miranda,’ calls Emma from the other end of the counter.
‘Darling girl! You’re back! How are you?’ says Miranda sweeping over, her voluminous turquoise silk outfit, wafting behind her like a sail.
‘I’m OK thank you.’
‘Good, I’m very glad to hear it. We’ve missed you. Ella will be so glad you’re back.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘She’s blooming – the absolutely picture of fecundity. And how are you faring with The Red Orchid?’
‘It’s finished,’ says Emma, realising the true significance of this statement. They both have their coffees now and are making their way down the street to the offices.
‘Well, you have been working hard. Is Richard happy?’ she asks as they step into the lift.
‘I think so. I haven’t seen him for a while but we’ve exchanged e-mails.’ Emma is trying to sound casual and hoping that Miranda won’t notice. She is out of luck.
Miranda peers at Emma over her half-moon glasses and narrows her eyes, as if toying with a tricky cryptic crossword clue. ‘Emma,’ she says finally as they reach her office. ‘You did heed my warnings, didn’t you?’ Emma bites her lip and looks guilty. ‘I think you better come in,’ says Miranda, ushering her inside.
Emma faces her defeated. ‘I’ve been an idiot, Miranda. I should have listened to you. I let my feelings for Richard get the better of me but I promise it hasn’t affected the book. I would understand if you asked me to resign though. I’m just sorry I’ve let you down.’
Miranda folds her arms and looks at her. ‘Emma, I can hardly chastise you for your actions given my past history but I did hope that you were a bit smarter than me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Emma again.
‘I think it is you who needs my sympathy. Am I right?’ Emma nods blinking back her tears. Miranda walks around the desk and puts her arms around her. This small gesture of affection is so welcome to Emma, and the tears fall easily as she thinks about her grief and her loss. She has let everyone down: her father, Miranda and Martin, yes most of all, Martin.
‘Do you think you came back to work a little too early, my dear?’ asks Miranda softly, handing her a tissue. ‘Grief is a very unpredictable thing and you clearly have a lot on your plate at the moment.’
Emma wipes her eyes. ‘I can’t stay at home any more. I need to get on with my life,’ she says with more determination than she feels.
‘All right, dear heart, but remember, my door is always open.’
‘Thank you,’ says Emma with a weak smile. ‘And sorry for the outburst.’
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re all human and it does us good to remember that sometimes.’
Emma nods and walks slowly out of Miranda’s office and back to her desk. There is a bunch of bright pink and purple peonies smiling up at her with a card from Ella: ‘Welcome back! We missed you. x’ Emma strokes their soft petals.
‘Oh, you’re back! Damn, I wanted to be here to welcome you,’ says Ella, lumbering into their work area.
Emma stares at her pregnant friend. ‘Look at you!’ she says, wrapping her in a tight hug. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
‘And you, Em. Yes, I’m turning into quite a little fatty now,’ says Ella with a grin.
Emma laughs. ‘Thanks for the flowers. It’s very sweet of you.’
‘You’re welcome. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the funeral. I had my twenty-one week scan.’
‘Oh wow! Do you know what you’re having?’
‘Yep, it’s a boy and we’re going to call him Stanley.’
Emma smiles with approval. ‘Fantastic news and who’s this “we”?’
Ella looks a little shy. ‘Jamie and I have decided to make a go of things.’
‘That’s lovely, darling. I’m so pleased for you,’ says Emma, sinking into her chair.
‘And now, do you want the good news or the bad news?’
‘Hmm, good first please.’
‘OK, I have bought doughnuts to welcome you back.’
‘You spoil me! And the bad?’
‘We have a marketing meeting in five minutes.’
‘Oh crap.’
‘I know. Sorry,’ says Ella wincing. ‘I can cover it if you like?’
‘No, it’s OK. Straight back to it, eh?’
‘Attagirl.’
Diana looks at the photos on the mantelpiece. She picks up each in turn and wipes them with a duster. She replaces them carefully. The grandchildren take the central position, Rachel’s wedding photo on the right, Emma’s engagement photo on the left. She considers removing this one, but decides against it. She knows how fickle girls can be. Finally, she replaces her wedding photo and then the portraits of Edward and herself when they were twenty-one.
‘You bloody man,’ she tells Edward. ‘I wish you were still here so I didn’t have to do this infernal dusting every day.’ She feels emotion catch her throat, grabs the mantelpiece to steady herself and then sinks back into Edward’s favourite armchair. She likes to sit here for her morning coffee. It still smells of him and she can do the Telegraph crossword a lot quicker. She smoothes the arms of the chair and picks up her coffee. People are always telling her to ‘keep busy’ but she doesn’t know how. Her life has always been structured by the whims of her dependents. Her friend, Jean has tried to persuade her to go for coffee at the local community hall but Diana feels as if that would be giving in and she never gives in.
She looks at the remote control and considers turning on the television and then feels horrified. She never watches daytime TV and never allowed the girls to either. She is pretty sure that petty crime and vandalism could be eradicated if someone put a stop to Jeremy Kyle. Suddenly she remembers Woman’s Hour and thanks the Good Lord for Radio 4. She moves to switch it on, but is interrupted by the telephone ringing. She contemplates leaving it for the answering machine; something she never used to do but something she has learnt to do since Edward died. Most people have been kind and thoughtful, but she can always hear their voices straining with the effort and she feels herself wanting to release them from the thrall of sympathetic chitchat. She almost prefers speaking to her mother, who is rude and direct, but Diana is used to this. She lifts the receiver and has barely had a moment to utter a greeting when the caller launches into a monologue of cooing interrogation.
‘Darling Diana! How are you? I’ve been thinking of you and wondering how you were but I wasn’t sure whether to call after Edward’s funeral. I could tell you were very emotional on the day and I just want to tell you that I forgive you. I’m finding it so hard to cope without him, aren’t you? I mean I just can’t believe he’s gone. It’s so tragic.’
‘Hello, Rosie,’ says Diana, trying to break her flow.
‘How are the girls? They must be struggling. They were so close to their father. I hear that Rachel and Steve are having problems and that Emma and Marvin are no longer together. Oh poor, dear Diana, your whole life falling apart around your ears, it must be ghastly. I feel for you, my dear, I really do.’
Diana wonders how long Rosie can talk without interruption and is now letting her do just that. Suddenly she feels a bubble of emotion well up inside her and wonders if she is about to cry. She is amazed when the sound that emerges from her mouth is a small giggle. Rosie is stopped in her tracks.
‘Diana, dear, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, Rosie, it’s
just that –’ begins Diana and then she laughs again and finds that she can’t stop laughing.
‘Diana? Diana? What are you laughing about? Oh I see, it’s hysteria. You poor thing. Do you want me to come round or call Rachel or Emma?’ But Diana doesn’t stop laughing and when she eventually recovers she realises that Rosie has stopped talking and hung up.
‘Well,’ she says to Edward’s picture as she replaces the phone in its cradle. ‘That’s one way to stop the old cow talking. Scare her witless!’
The meeting room is almost full by the time Ella and Emma arrive. They find two seats next to Philippa, who smiles and squeezes Emma’s hand under the table. Joel makes no acknowledgement of Emma’s return.
‘OK guys, as you know Philippa is still learning the ropes and ultimately when she’s up to speed and completely on message, we will be alternating the chairing of this meeting. So for today, I will chair, OK? Good,’ he barks without waiting for a response.
Emma looks at the agenda. The first half is taken up with other editors’ titles. Then she notices point number five, ‘The Red Orchid – update from Emma,’ and feels her stomach lurch. She tries to concentrate on what people are saying but feels as if she’s drifting somewhere in the corner of the room, as if none of this is entirely real.
Saskia, the designer, is trying to convince them to develop a book cover made entirely of PVC, but Eve, the production manager keeps shaking her head and trying to point out that this is commercially unviable. Saskia is becoming more and more excited, flapping her skinny little arms like an agitated bird, her voice reaching a pitch and crescendo that would only be audible to dolphins. She is now accusing Eve of having ‘no creative backbone’, to which Eve simply raises her eyebrows and looks over at Joel, willing him to take control of the meeting. Joel is whispering to Jacqui and it is Philippa who says, ‘OK, Saskia, it’s a very interesting idea and if you want to try to source it yourself, at a reasonable cost, I’m sure Eve would be happy to discuss it with you?’
Eve smiles gratefully at Philippa. Saskia looks a little sulky but nods anyway. Joel is visibly perturbed by Philippa’s presumption. ‘OK, thank you, Philippa. I think I can handle this. All right, Saskia, you see what you can find and Eve will be there as a sounding board, yes?’