by Lucy Dillon
A tiny glimmer of hope flickered in Lauren’s heart.
‘Sorry, mate,’ he went on. ‘I didn’t think it would cause problems. I mean, come on! How was I meant to know you’d come over?’ He gave Chris a side look. ‘Didn’t even know you’d got a key.’
‘Shut up, Kian,’ snarled Chris. ‘It’s not me you should be apologising to.’
‘Yeah, sorry, Lauren.’ Kian tried his winning smile, but neither Lauren nor Chris responded. ‘Look, you’ve obviously got some making up to do, so I’ll, er . . . I’ll . . .’
‘Shove off,’ supplied Lauren.
‘Yeah. I’ll . . . shove off. See yiz later.’ He turned on his heel and ambled off. He’d only gone a few steps when he turned round and shouted, ‘Still on for best man, then?’
Chris looked at Lauren, and she saw something weird in his eyes. Embarrassment, she decided. And probably he was annoyed with her for lamping him like that, and he was entitled to be, really.
‘Get bent, Kian,’ she yelled. He flicked a cheerful v-sign and carried on walking.
Chris didn’t move. For a moment, Lauren wasn’t sure what to say; you couldn’t just slam big emotions like that into reverse, and be all nicey-nicey again.
‘And is the wedding still on?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Is it?’
Lauren knew she should feel relieved, but somehow she didn’t. Something else had been dislodged from a dark part of her mind – was it the pissed-off expression in Chris’s eyes last night, when she’d asked him to come home with her, and he’d looked daggers at the thought of cutting his evening short? Was it that she’d never be able to enjoy the wedding now, knowing what trouble her mum was in? Or was it something else? Like, doubts?
Lauren stared at her feet, shocked at herself.
Chris sat down next to her, and fiddled with the sleeves of his hooded sweatshirt. Lauren loved that Gap sweatshirt. It made him look like a blond jock from The OC, or the clean-cut hero of some American teen film.
‘Loz, we need to talk,’ he said without looking at her, and as soon as he said it, she knew it wasn’t going to be good.
‘I know,’ she said, and took hold of his hand. OK, so Mum had told her not to tell anyone about the credit-card bills, but she had to tell Chris. They’d have to scale back on the plans, and he’d need to know why. It was only fair. ‘Listen, let me go first – it’s about the wedding.’
To her surprise, relief seemed to flood Chris’s face. ‘I’m so glad you said that. I’m so glad it’s not just me, Loz.’
‘What?’ she began, creasing her forehead, but he was gabbling on.
‘I think we’ve got rushed into it, you know? It’s not like I don’t love you because I do, well, as much as I know about it, but sometimes, specially lately, I’ve felt like it’s really the wedding you’re into, not getting married to me.’ He turned to face her, and to Lauren’s horror, she could see from the tightness in his face that he was serious. He meant what he was saying.
‘But you know that’s not . . .’
‘Isn’t it? You’re always going on about how it’s something you’ve dreamed about since you were little – well, you’ve only really known me since you were seventeen. It’s the first proper relationship for both of us. And the wedding hasn’t changed since we’ve been going out, has it? It’s still the same plans you’ve had for years – to be honest, I sometimes feel like you’re just slotting me into it, that anyone else would do.’
‘Chris, don’t say that.’
‘Why not? It’s true, isn’t it? Look, I’m not saying it’s your fault. I know my mum’s just the same – she’s been wanting to plan some kind of huge wedding to make up for her own, but, you know . . .’ He shrugged. ‘It makes me wonder if this is going to work. I mean, I don’t want a big do, but no one’s even asked me! If you want a big fairy-tale party, then just have one. But don’t let’s pretend it’s the same thing as getting married.’
‘What?’ Lauren felt blind-sided. ‘Are you saying you don’t want to get married?’ she asked, weakly. ‘But you asked me to marry you!’
‘I know,’ said Chris, miserably. ‘And it wasn’t like I didn’t want to at the time, but, you know, it was Christmas, and we were both a bit pissed, and I just got . . .’ His voice trailed off. ‘A bit carried away, maybe. I didn’t think it would all start happening so fast.’
Lauren closed her eyes as his words sank in. It had seemed impossible that today could get any worse, but apparently not. ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Oh my God.’
Seeing her shock, Chris started back-pedalling. ‘I do love you, Lauren, honestly . . .’ He grabbed her hand, but she pulled it away. ‘I’m twenty-three! You’re only twenty-two. We’ve only ever been on one holiday alone together and that was four days in Ibiza. Shit, are you crying?’ He leaned forward, and tried to see under her hands. ‘You are. Oh, Loz, please don’t. I hate seeing you cry.’
Lauren pushed him away.
‘Please don’t. I’m trying to be honest here,’ he pleaded. ‘I don’t want to let you down.’
‘How can you let me down any more than you are now?’ she sobbed, and Chris put his arms around her. She didn’t feel angry enough to push him away again.
‘Just now,’ Chris said softly, into her hair. ‘You really thought I’d slept with that girl, didn’t you?’
Lauren bridled at the accusation beneath his words. She knew exactly what he was saying. ‘And? What else was I meant to think? She told me you had, and your phone was turned off when I tried to call you last night.’
‘Well, I didn’t.’
‘Yeah, I know that now,’ she conceded, reluctantly.
‘But that’s what I mean – it doesn’t show a whole lot of trust in me,’ Chris went on, hurt. ‘If you could think that.’
That, thought Lauren, was a bit much. She sat up and glared at him. ‘And you think you’ve deserved it since you moved in with Kian?’ She counted on her fingers. ‘Out most nights, acting like you’re single, spending money we’re meant to be saving on beer and takeaways? While I’m at home with my mum and dad?’
‘God, at least save the nagging till we’re married!’ Chris rolled his eyes. ‘Yes, living with Kian has made me realise I don’t want to settle down just yet. I’m not saying I don’t want to marry you ever, but I just don’t know what I want. I do know, though, that I really don’t want to hurt you. So I think we need to step back and think about this. Yeah?’
Lauren was silent, and she turned away from him, staring out at the park while his words sank in. Her brain went on to automatic, as her eyes followed two joggers round the outside perimeter railings.
She felt Chris take her hand, wrapping his fingers round hers but she couldn’t bring herself to move her head and look down in case she saw the engagement ring that apparently didn’t mean as much to him as she had thought.
‘It doesn’t mean I don’t love you,’ he said, softly.
Lauren was so paralysed with unhappiness that she couldn’t speak.
They sat in silence, listening to the wind blowing through the indestructible shrubbery of the park.
‘So what do you want to do?’ said Lauren eventually. She was amazed at how steady her voice sounded when she was churning up inside.
‘Can we just have time-out for a week?’ said Chris. ‘Just to think?’
‘You want me to think about how much I want to get married, so you can come back in a week’s time and dump me?’ she replied sarcastically. ‘No, Chris.’
‘No!’ he protested. ‘I just want to press pause for a moment, just to be sure I know what’s happening! Don’t you feel that? That it’s all kind of running ahead of us? What with the house and the big plans and everything?’
Lauren nodded, very slightly, and cast a glance sideways. She couldn’t help hurting at how relieved Chris looked.
Relieved at what, she wondered. That she hadn’t kicked off? Or that he was on his way out of their relationship?
Lauren’s head ached. Chris didn’t let go of her hand. He didn’t show any signs of moving.
A jumble of thoughts crowded into her mind, all tied together so tightly she didn’t know how to start untangling them: her shattered wedding dreams, Chris’s half-rejection (what did he mean?), her mum’s nightmare debts, how she could start explaining any of it to anyone?
Lauren squeezed her eyes tight shut and when she opened them, the windswept park was still there, bleak as it ever was. She was filled with the need to be left alone, to work out what exactly she felt. These aren’t thoughts Mum can help with, thought Lauren, and a depressing sense that she’d finally reached adulthood hit her.
More than signing the mortgage, more than choosing the wedding dress. Having a problem you could only solve on your own – that was being grown-up.
‘Can you go now, please?’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Can you go? I need to be on my own.’
Chris looked surprised. ‘But . . .’
‘I can’t think with you here. Ring me on Wednesday, OK?’
‘You’re sure you don’t . . .’
‘I’m sure. Call me then. Text me to tell me you’re calling. Whatever.’
‘OK.’ Chris got up and started to walk away, his hands in his pockets. He’d gone four or five steps when he turned, and almost ran back to the bench.
‘You mean so much to me, Lauren,’ he said, urgently, taking her hands and crouching so their eyes were level. He hadn’t shaved in his rush to catch up with her, and an acrid morning smell lingered on his skin. But his eyes were lovely, she thought, randomly. Blue-grey, and honest.
He gazed into her eyes as if hoping she could read more there than he could say. ‘I just don’t want to mess it up and have us hating each other in two years.’
‘I don’t either,’ she said, in a small voice.
Chris leaned forward, cautiously, then closed his eyes and touched his lips against hers. They were warm and soft, and as he kissed her, with painful gentleness, Lauren’s heart was submerged by an aching wave of loss. How could he be so kind, and so cruel at the same time?
Taking her kiss as a positive sign, he started to curl his hand around the back of her neck, but she pushed him away.
‘Go,’ said Lauren, biting her lip, and this time he did.
She sat motionless for a while, trying desperately to lay one problem flat long enough to follow it through.
She could cancel the wedding.
Just thinking that made her stop breathing for a second, but she forced herself to carry on.
If Chris wasn’t sure, then there was no way she was going to force him down the aisle, especially not if it was going to put her mum in debt. He hadn’t said anything about splitting up, after all, just that he wasn’t sure about the wedding.
But how could you carry on with someone who reckoned they loved you, but not enough to marry you? When everyone would know he’d called it off? Her heart cracked with shame, and then cracked again at the very idea of losing the beautiful, magical day she’d planned so carefully; something twisted inside at the thought of her satin wedding shoes, perfectly broken in now, and all for nothing.
But if the wedding didn’t happen, then her mum would get some of that money back – and she wouldn’t have to spend more. They could sell some of the centrepieces and silk decorations on eBay (even though she felt ill just imagining parting with all the clever little knick-knacks she’d found), maybe even sell the dress, although most of those deposits were non-refundable.
Lauren hesitated as the problem twisted once again in her head. What if her mum thought she’d called off the wedding because of the money? She’d blame herself. She’d think Lauren had done it to save her face.
She pressed her hands to her eyes. And what if Chris calmed down by Wednesday? What if this was just some Kian-inspired panic attack – pre-wedding nerves, like you read about in the magazine features. That happened. At least it showed he was thinking about what it really meant. What was the point in getting her mum’s hopes up (or down) and then having to tell her it was all going ahead?
And then there was the house. They wouldn’t get any of that deposit back. Chris hadn’t said what he wanted to do about that.
But how do you feel? she asked herself. What do you want?
Lauren let her eyes drift around the perimeter of the park, hoping the answer would just pop into her mind.
It didn’t. It was like being trapped in a room with crowds of people all shouting at once, and the only voice she couldn’t hear was her own.
30
Katie never thought she’d be glad to leave for work on a Monday morning, but there were moments on Sunday afternoon when she wondered if the clocks had stopped, the hours were dragging by so torturously.
Something had definitely changed, since Ross quietly moved his clothes into the spare room. Katie didn’t even know he’d done it until she took a basket of ironing up to put away, and when she pulled open his underwear drawer in their room, it was empty, apart from one forlorn bar of soap. It had been there so long, she noticed automatically, the Body Shop had changed their packaging.
Holding her breath, Katie opened the wardrobe, and saw his shirts had gone too. And his books from his side of the bed, and his iPod, and his guitar that he hadn’t played in years. Things she hadn’t even registered were there before.
Her stomach contracted painfully. This was what she’d wanted. This was the no-pain solution for the children, and yet it felt more of a rejection than if he’d packed his things and left altogether. He was closing himself off to her, just like she’d closed herself off from him. Until that moment, she’d had no idea just how much it must have hurt him. He still wouldn’t really talk to her. Whenever she tried to ask him how he was feeling, he just turned away.
Katie put the basket down and sank onto the bed, fighting back tears, then wiped her eyes hard, with one of Jack’s soft T-shirts. This is the tough part, she thought. Get used to it; it’ll pass.
It might just have been her own paranoia, but she was sure the kids sensed something was up. Maybe she and Ross were being too normal, agreeing too much with each other. Jack was whingey, and wouldn’t settle for his Sunday afternoon nap, and Hannah’s eyes seemed to follow her around the room. Once or twice, Katie went through to the kitchen to make some coffee, and when she turned round, Hannah was standing by the door, half in and half out.
The second time it happened, Katie said, ‘Are you OK there, Hannah Banana? Can I get you a drink?’
Hannah scuttled over to where Katie was standing and grabbed her hand tight.
‘Mummy,’ she asked in a wheedly voice, ‘why did Daddy sleep in a different bed last night?’
How did she know? panicked Katie.
‘Um, because he snores, and keeps Mummy awake!’ she said, brightly, making a mental note to tell Ross, so at least they’d be peddling the same unconvincing lie. ‘So I asked him to snore in the spare room.’
‘Don’t you get lonely without Daddy?’ asked Hannah.
‘No, darling.’ Katie smoothed back Hannah’s hair from her forehead. ‘You sleep on your own, don’t you?’
She looked dubious. ‘Don’t you love us any more? You didn’t want to come to Center Parcs with us.’
Katie tried not to notice the way Hannah lumped her, and Jack, and Ross in as one, but picked her up and gave her a tight squeeze, bursting with protective love as Hannah’s arms and legs wound round her, clinging like ivy. ‘I love you more than anything else in the whole world,’ she said, fiercely. ‘And sometimes mummies have to work, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about you and Jack all the time.’
‘I wish you didn’t have to go to work, Mummy,’ said Hannah, and she sounded much younger than she had done for a long time.
‘I know, sweetie,’ said Katie. ‘I wish I didn’t have to, too, but that’s what grown-ups do.’ She tried to tell herself that her daughter, at least, had a strong female role mo
del, but it didn’t fill in the answering silence from Hannah.
Just before she left for work on Monday morning, Ross said, off-handedly, ‘I won’t be in tonight, just so’s you know.’
‘What?’ Katie stopped stuffing papers into her laptop bag.
‘Monday nights. It’s going to be my night off from now on.’ He coaxed Jack into taking another spoonful of porridge. His swollen cheekbone had gone down, leaving him with just a little cut on his lip. It added a touch of Jack Sparrow roughness, which Katie found oddly attractive.
Though obviously she didn’t approve of him and Greg fighting.
‘And I’d like to take Thursdays off. The whole day. Jo says she can get Jack and Rowan into this nursery near her house on Thursdays, because she wants to start retraining. She’s thinking of going back to work, part-time.’
‘Really?’ said Katie, surprised. ‘She didn’t mention that to me.’
‘Well, she was thinking about it before Greg dropped this on her, and now she definitely wants to. We talked about it while we were away. I’m thinking of doing some retraining too, actually. Get up to speed with the new Photoshop software, that sort of thing.’
‘Are you? That’s great!’ Katie’s heart bumped ambiguously in her chest. Was Jack really ready to be left at nursery? And how much would it cost?
Ross wants to start working again, she reminded herself. That’s what you wanted. Focus on that.
Ross gave her a side look. ‘It’s a chance to get my own life back, now Jack’s old enough to be left on his own at nursery.’
She couldn’t stop herself. ‘Are you sure he’ll be all right?’
Ross glared at her. ‘For one day a week? I think so, Katie. It’ll do him good to meet other toddlers. Do both of us good, come to that.’ He softened a little as Jack grabbed for the porridge spoon. ‘It’s a nice nursery. Jo’s been looking into all of them locally, and she’s pulled some strings to get them both in. Come on, they’re friends, Rowan and Jack. They’ll know each other.’