The Saturday Supper Club

by Amy Bratley

  I shook my head emphatically. The thought of going down that road with Ethan was too much of a nightmare. I wouldn’t even let myself think of it as a possibility.

  ‘Seriously,’ I said. ‘I don’t want anyone. I just want to concentrate on the cafe and keeping in touch with you. I hope you realize I’m going to be Skyping you every night and our phone bills will be huge.’

  ‘That’s OK with me,’ Isabel said. ‘I can’t be happy unless I’ve got you in my life, even if I can only have a fuzzy picture of you on the laptop. Maybe you can have yourself on Skype continuously, so I can keep checking in to see what you’re doing?’

  Glancing at one another, we smiled warmly. I felt my throat constrict. I was going to miss Isabel so much, but I didn’t want to drag her down.

  ‘I’ll come out and see you as soon as I can scrape the money together,’ I said. ‘I might have to sell the new oven, which would make things tricky. Oh well.’

  I shrugged my shoulders jokingly. Isabel shrugged hers too.

  ‘Oh well,’ she said.

  For the rest of the journey we talked about everything Isabel wanted me to help out with while she was away. I was the point of contact for her new tenants and I had to get the car into the garage for an MOT. The time flew by. Suddenly aeroplanes were in the sky above us.

  ‘Christ,’ she said, as we neared Heathrow. ‘We’re almost there.’

  ‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘This is really it. I think I might climb inside your suitcase and come with you.’

  ‘I’d love that,’ Isabel said, heading towards the short-term parking area and into a car park. ‘I really would.’

  Inside, the airport was bustling with people. Isabel’s seven-hour flight was at two p.m., so we’d arrived in plenty of time for her to check in and for us to have a farewell drink. With her suitcase dragging bumpily behind her on wheels, Isabel searched for her check-in gate, while I walked next to her, feeling like I wanted to grab her and bundle her back into the car so she couldn’t go anywhere. I checked my phone again for messages, but there was nothing, so I threw it into the bottom of my bag. Joe had asked me not to contact him so I had to respect his wishes. As for Ethan – I had no idea where he was. I didn’t care. Well, I did, but I pretended to myself I didn’t.

  ‘Oops, sorry,’ I said, as I bumped into a couple clinging on to one another for dear life bang in the middle of the corridor. They were both in tears of joy – at being reunited, I assumed – and I envied their blissful intimacy. Isabel and I smiled at each other in acknowledgement.

  ‘I’m just going to get some magazines quickly,’ she said, outside WHSmith, checking her wristwatch. ‘And a couple of bottles of water, then we can find the check-in. I’ve got plenty of time.’

  I stood outside WHSmith, guarding Isabel’s bags, when I glanced over at the Ticket Information desk and did a double take. With his back to me, a black sports bag at his feet, was Ethan in conversation with the lady wearing a red uniform behind the desk. I swallowed and looked into WHSmith for Isabel. I couldn’t see her. My heart racing, I stayed frozen to the spot. I kept my eyes on Ethan. He leaned down to pick up his bag and ended his conversation with the woman. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he turned in the direction of where I was standing. I sucked in my breath, waiting for him to clock me. When he didn’t, I wanted to call out his name. I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out.

  ‘I’ve got Grazia and Glamour,’ said Isabel, suddenly back next to me, rustling a plastic carrier bag of goodies. ‘Plus a couple of newspapers. Are you all right? What’s up? You’re as white as a sheet. Do you feel sick?’

  I nodded my head towards Ethan, who was studying the departure boards, his bag on his shoulder, his hands shoved into his jeans pockets. I watched a red-haired girl admiring Ethan and felt a stab of jealousy.

  ‘Noooo!’ Isabel half shouted. ‘I don’t believe it! What’s he doing here? Going back to Rome, do you think? Loser. Has he seen you?’

  I shook my head, opening and closing my mouth in shock. Isabel picked up her suitcase and grabbed my arm, starting to pull me in the opposite direction, when Ethan turned towards us, noticed me and, looking completely taken aback, slowly lifted his hand in the air to wave.

  ‘Eve!’ he called over a crowd of passengers waiting in a queue. ‘Isabel!’

  ‘Oh God,’ I muttered to Isabel. ‘Hang on a minute.’

  His hair flopping into his eyes as he half jogged towards us, Ethan was saying something, but I couldn’t hear what above the public announcements bellowing over the speakers. There were too many people and I wished we were somewhere quieter.

  ‘I’m going to wait in the queue,’ Isabel said to me, nodding briefly at Ethan and pointing to the British Airways desk. ‘Come and find me over there.’

  Ethan and I looked at one another and smiled, despite everything. I remembered the things he’d said in his letter, the aeroplane ticket falling to the floor. We looked into one another’s eyes.

  ‘Why are you here?’ I asked quietly.

  Ethan’s eyes glistened for a second, then he frowned and sighed.

  ‘I’m going back to Italy,’ he said. ‘I was finding out if there were any cancellations. Everyone is so pissed off with me here, I need to get away. I’ve made a mess of everything.’

  ‘So you’re running away,’ I said, sudden anger coursing through me. ‘Again.’

  ‘I’m not running away,’ said Ethan. ‘I’m—’

  He looked around, floundering for words. The departures board glittered with yellow letters and numbers.

  ‘That’s what cowards do,’ I said. ‘Run. So go for it, Ethan. Run.’

  Ethan looked at me seriously for a long moment, as if he was about to say something, then he leaned towards me and kissed my cheek once. He smelt faintly of cigarettes mingled with Dior.

  ‘Maybe,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Bye, Eve.’

  I didn’t speak. I couldn’t speak. My eyes pricking with tears, my stomach aching with anger and sadness and regret and love, I watched him go.

  Later, after I’d said a tearful goodbye to Isabel, both of us sobbing like mad at the departure gate, I drove to my dad’s house. As I parked up outside, I saw Daisy’s Raleigh chained to the garden gate and though I considered for a second turning round and running back to my flat, I forced myself to go inside. With Joe not speaking to me, and Ethan leaving the country, I couldn’t bear to ostracize anyone else that I loved. It might be painful, but I had to forgive Daisy completely and move on. This was a new era. Dad and Elaine were moving in together. The old house was up for sale. The cafe was opening in a few days’ time. I had to be positive. All I could do with Joe was apologize, and as for Ethan – Ethan had proved to be a coward. I didn’t want to love a coward.

  ‘Darling girl,’ said Dad, opening the door to me. ‘We’re all at the kitchen table. Come through. How’s your head? Mine’s awful.’

  ‘Quite bad,’ I said. ‘I hope you enjoyed it?’

  ‘I had a fantastic time,’ he said. ‘But I know you didn’t. Young men can behave like fools. I have to apologize for my species.’

  I shrugged and walked through to the kitchen, where Elaine, Daisy and Benji were sitting at the table, sharing a plate of chocolate brownies that were left over from Dad’s party. Elaine offered me a coffee, which I gratefully accepted. Daisy and I smiled warily at one another and she patted the chair next to her.

  ‘Come and sit down,’ she said.

  I smiled, gave Benji a kiss and a cuddle, then pulled out the chair, sitting down with my elbows leaning on the table. In front of me stood a vase of roses clipped from Dad’s garden.

  ‘You know he’s gone, do you?’ I said to Daisy.

  Daisy nodded and put down her mug of coffee.

  ‘I think it’s for the best,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t going to work out for any of us.’

  I opened my mouth to say that she’d hardly given him a chance and how could she make assumptions about how I felt, but I found myse
lf saying, ‘You’re right,’ instead.

  ‘He was bloody hopeless with Benji,’ she said, lifting Benji down from her knee. ‘Do you want to play in the garden, Benj?’

  I tensed, feeling myself want to defend Ethan. Could anyone be the instant perfect parent when they were in such a state of shock?

  ‘You’ve got to give the guy a break,’ said Elaine, handing me a plate with a brownie on it. ‘He only just found out he was a father. Jeez, I’d be in a bad place for a long while.’

  Elaine and I shared a look. Sensing the tension in the air, Dad cleared his throat and put his hands on his hips.

  ‘Well,’ said Daisy, ‘he didn’t even know that two-year-olds don’t go to pre-school! And he clearly doesn’t want to be anywhere near me, despite what happened before—’

  Daisy stopped speaking and looked down at her nails, then at me apologetically.

  ‘Daisy,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t go stirring all this up again.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,’ she said. ‘I’m just pointing out the facts and trying to say that it’s no loss, him going. Is it, Eve? No loss.’

  ‘He was a troublemaker,’ Dad said.

  ‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ I said quietly. ‘It’s a good job he’s gone.’

  I nodded and took a sip of coffee. Elaine, who had been quietly listening to us, made a ‘hmm’ noise, readjusted her hair, traced her eyebrows with her fingers, then, when she had all of our attention, she spoke.

  ‘I know you don’t really think that,’ said Elaine. ‘Do you? Jeez, does anyone say what they’re really thinking in this family? I mean, Eve, honey, you’re majorly pissed with Daisy and your dad, for scuppering your chances with the man you were desperately in love with. Daisy, you’re jealous as hell, but have never even admitted liking the guy. What is it with all these secrets? And Frankie, you’re no better. You still haven’t told the girls we’re getting married, have you?’

  I looked from Elaine to Dad, whose cheeks were turning pink. He glanced nervously at Daisy and me.

  ‘Congratulations!’ I said in surprise. ‘That’s good, isn’t it, Daisy?’

  I nudged Daisy, who was staring at Elaine, a confused expression on her face.

  ‘I guess,’ she said. ‘Though it’s a little out of the blue, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hoorah!’ said Elaine. ‘You’re telling the truth about how you feel. I know it feels strange for you, honey, but now that I’ve got my size fives under the kitchen table, I’d really appreciate it if we could all be a little more open with one another? That way, we might actually know what the other one is feeling. How about that? As for Ethan, I personally think there’s one person around this table, Eve, who does genuinely love the guy and I think he loves her back. We, as a family, have to decide if we can help Eve in any way. What do you think?’

  Huffing noisily, Daisy pushed back her chair and carried her plate to the sink. She dropped it in the bowl of water and rinsed her fingers under the tap.

  ‘I don’t know, Elaine,’ said Dad. ‘I really think we should be a little bit careful with the whole Ethan thing. You know Daisy had feelings for him too—’

  ‘I know, but it’s better to address these feelings than sweep them under the rug,’ she said. ‘If you can’t get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well dance with it.’

  ‘I have absolutely no time for Ethan,’ snapped Daisy from the sink. ‘Honestly, Eve, if you want him, you have him. I’m thinking about becoming a lesbian.’

  Just then, Benji came in singing a hymn about Jesus.

  ‘Do you want to say a prayer with me, Elaine?’ he said. ‘A prayer to God.’

  ‘I’m not sure where he’s got all this from,’ said Daisy. ‘From nursery, I expect.’

  ‘You know, Benji,’ Elaine said, ‘it’s fine if you want to pray, but I don’t believe in God.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said sincerely. ‘He will forgive you.’

  I caught Daisy’s eye and we shared a small smile. Elaine burst out laughing and jumped up from her seat.

  ‘I saw that smile!’ said Elaine. ‘Great stuff. Maybe there is a God after all. Hallelujah!’

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The night before the day of the opening, five days after I’d waved goodbye to Isabel – and Ethan – I stood in the cafe kitchen, mixing up the ingredients for my mother’s Lovebird cake. It was still light and warm outside and the air was heavy with the smell of flowers from Dad’s courtyard pots mingling deliciously with melting chocolate from the kitchen. The sounds of laughter from a pub garden three doors down drifted across the evening sky and, with my arms and feet aching from hard work, I felt a pang of envy. I wished to be sitting in the pub garden, nursing a cold glass of wine, a packet of crisps on the go, spending my guaranteed wages without a care. That was the problem with being self-employed, with going out on my own. I would always have to be working. I would never be able to let go.

  ‘Hopefully it will all be worth it,’ I said out loud, scraping the gooey chocolate mixture into several cake tins and then sliding them into my new oven. I set the timer and stood back, my hands on my hips.

  ‘What did you say?’ asked Maggie from the kitchen doorway, holding in her hand an antique birdcage that she had painted dark purple and decorated with flowers twisted through the bars. It was going to hang in the corner of the cafe. Dressed in blue shorts, white vest and leopard-print ballerina pumps, her hair piled on top of her head in a scruffy topknot, I was struck by how pretty she was. I wondered briefly what Sal’s new woman was like.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ I said. ‘Are you all done? Shall we have a drink now? I’m shattered.’

  I’d spent the last few days working like a dog to get the cafe ready for opening day. Putting out stock and pricing it all up had taken an eternity, plus finalizing the selection of cakes, bakes and drinks I wanted on the menu had left me nearly tearing my hair out with indecision. I’d managed to smash a whole box of plates that I’d hand-picked from charity shops, so I’d had to scoot out searching for more, plus the fridge was making an awful buzzing noise until I kicked it really hard and it stopped. Then I’d flown up and down Lordship Lane, handing out fliers that Maggie had thrown together for me to everyone I passed. Maggie, who had a part-time freelance contract working for Selfridges starting the following week, had helped me out no end and I was incredibly grateful to her. With Isabel in Dubai, it was wonderful to have Maggie to bounce ideas off and she was so much more creative that I was. While I thought a free chocolate with every cup of coffee would be a good idea, Maggie thought a bowl of giant chocolate buttons would be more fun. I’d offered to pay her, but she said the Supper Club prize money was seeing her through and that she was doing me a favour. I made sure she was stuffed full of cake and coffee. It was the least I could do.

  ‘Let’s have a glass of this,’ Maggie said.

  I watched her open the fridge and take out a bottle of white wine. Fishing in the drawer, she pulled out the corkscrew and opened the wine, then poured us two large glasses. We walked out into the courtyard and sat at one of the wrought-iron tables. I glanced up at the pale sky, sipped my cold wine and smiled.

  ‘It’s just as good as being at the pub,’ I said, breathing in the evening air.

  ‘Much better,’ said Maggie. ‘At the pub there are too many men gawping at you.’

  ‘Maybe at you,’ I said. ‘Anyway, I thought you liked that. To be the object of desire, I mean. You once told me you were only interested in men, sex and good food.’

  Maggie shrugged, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs.

  ‘The novelty’s wearing off,’ she said. ‘I still like the food part, though I’m a bit over cake right now.’

  She patted her tummy, of which there was virtually nothing.

  ‘Maggie,’ I said hesitantly. ‘What was Sal like? Why were you so hooked on him?’

  Maggie looked uncomfortable for a moment. She sighed and took a large gulp of wine.

  ‘He
’s an artist, a successful one, too,’ she said. ‘So he’s quite serious and very hard-working. He’s soulful, intense, passionate about what he does, a passionate lover.’

  Maggie stopped speaking and shook her head. She rolled her eyes.

  ‘Listen to me,’ she said. ‘I sound like a dreamy teenager.’

  We both watched a robin land on another table and peck at invisible crumbs.

  ‘Would you take him back if he asked you?’ I said, but Maggie shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m too proud. No way. And anyway, I like being single, with the occasional no-strings-attached fling. My life is my own. I can be completely independent. What about you? How are you doing without Joe?’

  I frowned and screwed up my nose. Joe’s brother, Jimmy, had been to collect Joe’s possessions from my flat and awkwardly told me that Joe was doing fine, but that he didn’t want me to contact him at all. Though I had wanted to call him every day, I had to respect his wishes. I missed him terribly, but I knew, in my heart, it was better we were apart.

  ‘I miss him,’ I said. ‘But I feel less tormented now. Even though I’m lonely and I would love to see him, I’m relieved that he’s not asking me to marry him every five seconds and that I’m not justifying my every move. That sounds bad, but it’s the truth.’

  ‘What about Ethan?’ Maggie asked. ‘Have you heard from him?’

  I shook my head and drained my glass.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I guess he’s back in Rome. I’ll probably never see him again.’

  Saying the words out loud made me feel depressed, but I knew they were true. This whole episode, since he’d turned up unexpectedly at the Supper Club, should have given me resolution, but instead it had opened up old wounds and made a few fresh ones, too. Perhaps it would never sit comfortably with me. Perhaps my relationship with Ethan was never going to fit neatly into a box to be stored away in my memory bank. More likely it would always be with me, in my bones, as much a part of me as my skeleton. I would just have to live with it.