by Ali Harris
I shake my head and smile as I think about how she’d hugged me when I said yes to her proposition. I have a job! And not just any job, a job that I’m actually going to enjoy! I can’t WAIT to tell Milly!
I also decide that it’s time to start looking for somewhere of my own to live. The flower shop won’t be paying much but I can always get an evening bar job or something. Meeting Sal has made me realise that I need to be independent. Loni was bringing up two kids alone by the time she was my age and Sal is embracing impending single parenthood without fear. I’m thirty – and I’ve been afraid of life for too long.
Sal and I had told each other our potted histories over the course of the afternoon – Sal popping in and out of the shop to serve customers in between me telling her my runaway-bride story. I even told her about Kieran. I don’t know why but it was refreshing to say his name, to tell someone about him.
‘Holy shit,’ she said. ‘It’s so fucking romantic! I mean, your long-lost lover comes back to declare his undying love on your wedding day?’ She sniffed and gazed down at her belly. ‘The most romantic thing my ex ever did was offer to wear a condom, and he couldn’t even get that right!’ She grinned then, revealing dimples that reminded me just how young she was.
‘So are you still in love with him?’ she asked, taking a sip of tea.
I paused before shaking my head.
‘Ahhh! You had to think about it then, didn’t you! That means you think you might be. God, imagine getting back with your first love all these years later! Was he hot?’
I laughed and nodded.
‘Is he still?’
I bit my lip shyly then nodded again.
‘No middle-age spread or moustache, no grey hair, or worse, hair loss?’
I laughed again. ‘No, I mean he definitely looked older, but it suited him . . .’
‘Oh my God, you’ve totally thought about this, haven’t you?’
I grinned, buoyed by her girlish enthusiasm. ‘Only a teensy bit . . .’ I admitted, holding my thumb and forefinger up.
After Sal had imagined a whole new future for me as Mrs Kieran Blake, she told me about the baby’s dad, her ‘sodding useless ex’ (her words). ‘He’s not mature enough to deal with it, so good riddance to him. I’m going to make sure this baby has everything it needs. Besides,’ she continued, ‘I’ve got my dad to help me. He’ll be a better male role model than my ex could ever be. He brought me up alone, so he knows what it’s like.’
I’m still thinking about my chance meeting with Sal and the opportunity it has given me to take my life in a different direction as I unlock Milly’s front door.
I look at the spare key she gave me and as I pull it out of the lock I make a decision.
I’m going to give Milly these flowers tonight, thank her and Jay enormously for putting up with me these past few weeks and then I’ll tell her I’m moving out. I don’t want to outstay my welcome when they’ve both been so kind. Like Sal I’m going to trust my instincts – and trust that fate will find me something quickly.
Chapter 23
‘So, I actually have some news . . .’ I say later that evening over dinner.
‘Oh, that’s funny, so do we.’ Milly’s eyes dart across to Jay who instinctively slides off his bar stool and takes his half-full plate over to the dishwasher.
‘I’ll . . . er . . .’ he says, looking mildly panicked. A text message comes through on his phone. ‘I’ll just get this!’ Relieved, he swiftly exits the room.
Adam, I presume.
‘Shall I go first?’ Milly and I say at the same time. We laugh awkwardly, unable to look at each other.
‘Let me go first, I’ve been desperate to tell you this for ages,’ Milly pleads. Calm, composed Milly looks uncharacteristically emotional. ‘I’m . . . well, we’re, that is, me and Jay . . .’
I smile. I’m sure she’s going to tell me they’re having a baby and I’m so happy for her. I am. I’ve just had this sense that she might be pregnant, I know she and Jay were talking about having a baby and things always happen quickly for Milly.
‘I’m really happy for you, Mills,’ I say brightly but she looks at me in confusion.
‘I haven’t told you my news yet!’ she exclaims. ‘The thing is, well, we’re . . . moving to New York!’
‘WHAT?’ I stare at her, completely shell-shocked at this unexpected news.
Milly has always had her life planned meticulously. She doesn’t like surprises, never has done. She’s always plotted out her life perfectly. Marriage at twenty-seven, first baby at thirty-one, second at thirty-three. Retirement at fifty. I feel like the ground has been shaken beneath my feet. What will I do without Milly? I know I want to be independent, but I still need her. Especially now I’ve left Adam. How will I cope without either of my rocks?
‘It’s not forever. A year, maybe two.’
‘B-but I thought you were settled here, you said you wanted to start trying for a family?’
‘Well, I’m learning that, sometimes, plans have to . . . change. Not everything is as straightforward as you think. Life takes a different direction when you least expect it.’ She glances away. ‘Look, Bea, the truth is in Adam’s absence George has promoted Jay to Group Managing Director in charge of overseeing the buy-out of a New York agency so Hudson & Grey can expand out there. It’s a great opportunity for him and I have to support him right now . . . after all, one day he might be the main breadwinner.
‘It doesn’t have to, though, does it? I mean, you like the life you have!’ I say vehemently. ‘What about everything you have here, your career, your family, your friends . . .’ I trail off without adding what I really want to say: What about me? ‘What if . . . what if you hate New York? Your life has never had unexpected surprises or turns and that’s good.’
She looks up at me. ‘Is it?’ she smiles. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been so busy planning my life that I don’t actually have time to live it. And New York’s the most exciting city in the world.’ Milly gets up, walks over and puts her arm around me. I lean my head against her shoulder, trying not to cry.
‘Exciting is overrated. What if you can’t get another job and you’re completely unfulfilled and miserable?’ I’m clutching at straws and we both know it.
‘Aren’t you Little Miss Positive!’ she teases. “I’ve already spoken to the other partners and it makes sense for me to transfer to our New York office and oversee the business out there. I’m just waiting for my visa to be approved. It’s an adventure, Bea. Sometimes change is good. You should know that better than anyone . . .’ She gives me a squeeze. ‘It won’t be forever, I promise. Besides, you said yourself that you want to stand on your own two feet.’
‘I do.’ Those words again. ‘I’ll – I’ll just miss you.’
‘I’m sorry, Bea. I know it’s bad timing. I feel awful . . .’
‘Hey, stop worrying about me,’ I say shakily, getting up and clearing our plates so she can’t see that I’m struggling to hold it together. ‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’ She doesn’t need to answer for me to know that she doesn’t believe me, and neither do I. ‘And if you think about it,’ I joke, as I walk towards the dishwasher, ‘it’s indirectly my fault that you’re going. You might not have moved there if I had married Adam. He’d be doing that job, not Jay!’
She strides across the kitchen, takes the plates from my hands and stares meaningfully at me.
‘You know what I think, Bea? I think sometimes things happen that are completely out of our control . . . you can’t do anything about it and no matter what you might have done differently, it might just have happened anyway.’
I wish I could believe that was true.
‘I got a job today!’ I say, wanting to change the subject, lift the mood. ‘So I’ve decided I’m going to move out.’
‘Oh no.’ She shakes her head. ‘Not on my watch.’
‘You don’t have to watch, remember?’ I point out. ‘You’ll be in New York.’ I
swallow back the lump in my throat. Last time Milly left me to go to university I fell apart. What if it happens again?
‘Exactly! I’ll be in New York so you can flat-sit for us!’ I gaze at her in disbelief and she stares at me from under her fringe like Cleopatra. ‘Honestly, Bea, it would actually be really helping us out. We don’t want to get strangers in, or get a letting agent to manage it, and we need to keep some sort of London base in case Jay or I need to come back for meetings. You’ll be doing us a favour, keeping it occupied while we’re gone. I’ve been planning on redecorating, smartening it up again so I can sell it at some point, buy somewhere bigger . . . and I thought perhaps you could help in return for living here rent-free? You know, spruce up the rooms with some paint over the next few months, and carry on doing the garden for me? It’s already looking so much better, and it’s going to be such a selling point. I’d be so grateful.’
Milly glances down and I know then that it’s because she doesn’t want me to know that she’s trying to help me out. Part of me feels like I should say no out of principle. I mean I’m meant to be trying to be independent but I also know that what Milly is giving me here is a chance to make my new life everything I want it to be. Everything I’ve never felt I deserved.
And I am tempted. It means I can stay in Greenwich, work at the flower shop and save to go back to university. Once again, I feel like I’ve been given a second chance. How many people can say they get that? Elliot never had the chance to start over – thanks to me.
‘Thank you,’ I say to Milly as I hug her, forcing back my tears.
She squeezes me tightly. ‘Like I said, you’ll be doing me a favour. I’ll miss you though, Bea. You have no idea how much.’
‘Me too, Mills,’ I reply. ‘Me too.’
July
Dear Bea
As I write this; our garden is awash with vibrant colour and delicate scents. By the back door the flowers of the morning glory with their distinctive heart-shaped leaves and sky-blue petals come into full bloom in the early morning. The sunflowers we planted together in the veg patch turn their shining, golden heads to follow the path of their namesake throughout the day. And, of course, your favourites, the blooming honeysuckle and sweet-smelling jasmine, cascade down the side of the house. Ever since your mum told you that fairies love to sip honeysuckle nectar you pluck some every day after school and put it out for them on your doll’s tea set in the little dell at the bottom of the garden. Then you sit amongst the foxgloves, phlox and hollyhocks, your little tanned, grazed legs crossed, freckled nose scrunched up in concentration, as you wait for these magical beings to appear.
But while your thoughts may sometimes be away with the fairies this month, don’t forget to focus on the here and now. Sit outside, absorb the peace and stillness of the garden at the end of a busy day and there you will find new life blossoming before you. But beware the summer storm. When it happens (which it surely will) don’t be afraid to go and dance in the rain.
Love, Dad x
Chapter 24
Bea Hudson is off to the in-laws for a Post-Honeymoon Luncheon (yes, that’s its official title).
‘Ad?’ I call from our hallway, anxiously examining my appearance in the mirror and picking up my keys from the Danish console table. ‘Are you ready yet? We don’t want to be late.’
‘Just a minute!’ he calls back from the bedroom.
‘OK! But don’t be any longer,’ I trill.
I’m trying not to get annoyed because we are still very much in the honeymoon period and I’m determined to prove to everyone, including myself, that we are going to have a blissfully happy marriage. And it has been perfect so far. Adam’s surprised me several times by leaving work at a reasonable time, bringing home my favourite flowers – Cosmos, of course – and taking me on picnic dates. And I’ve cooked proper grown-up meals and served them on our fairy-lit roof terrace, where the scent of lavender and marjoram and honeysuckle accompanies our meals. Then we’ve lain in the hammock till late, drinking, laughing and talking under a canopy of sparkling stars and glittering lights from the city. I know being married shouldn’t feel any different, but it does somehow. I feel like before, we were just two cut stems that had been put in the same glass vase. Now we are like plants that have been buried together so deep in the soil that they have become entwined at the roots.
So even though Ad only started getting ready ten minutes ago because he’d been caught up with a work call (on a Sunday) I didn’t complain. And no doubt he will appear in minutes looking effortlessly sleek and handsome. Whereas I’ve spent two hours trying to make myself look acceptable and am now feeling like I need another shower thanks to this heat. It’s not his fault that the thought of visiting his parents gets me so stressed.
I glance longingly out of the window. I wish we could be outside on a beautiful summer’s day like this. Anything but spending an hour in the car in order to get to Adam’s parents’ Berkshire residence in time for our ‘Luncheon’. And yes, it may be two months since we got back from Paris, but as George and Marion never tire of telling us, this is the first time they’ve been available. They are always busy, too busy for their only son, as far as I can tell. The only bright side of today is that, as bridesmaid and best man, Milly and Jay are also coming. I want to believe this is for our benefit, but I’m pretty sure it’s because George knows that, with Adam and Jay both there, he can sneakily turn a family event into an unofficial work meeting.
I check my watch anxiously, wondering whether to call Adam again. Not in a nagging way, just a tiny little reminder that we need to, you know, go. Like, now. Marion is incredibly fastidious about appearance and style, not to mention manners and attitude. She takes pride in telling anyone who will listen that she has never dressed inappropriately, been late for an appointment, or left anything unattended. She is a minute-by-minute box ticker. She defines people as either go-getters – such as Adam’s ex, Eliza – or ‘wait-for-iters’, such as me. It’s never bothered me before but that was when she was just my boyfriend’s mum. But now she’s my mother-in-law and I realise she is going to be around for the rest of my life so I’m determined to find a way for us to get along.
I think I’ve started off pretty well too. I mean, I have a proper job now, and I’ve learned what not to say and do in her presence. From now on I will be the epitome of class and grace. I will still be me, but I will be a new and improved version. A more together, more grown-up, more go-getting Bea. More of a Hudson. Cool, calm, collected and . . . on time.
‘ADAAAAAM!’ I screech up the stairs. ‘Come ON – we’re going to be late!’ I pause and clear my throat. ‘Please?’
That isn’t nagging. It isn’t.
‘OK, OK!’ he laughs as he strides out of the bedroom and down the corridor as smart and cool as ever. He grabs his keys and wallet before giving me a kiss and then steps back to look at me.
‘Wow. You look . . . different,’ he says, raising a dark eyebrow, his mouth twitching at the corner.
‘Is it too much?’ I tilt my head and anxiously glance in the mirror at the floral pencil skirt I’m wearing with a white puff-sleeved silk blouse, a statement necklace and heels. I’m wearing my long hair up in a chignon – and I’m carrying one of the many horrible Stepford Wife designer handbags Marion has handed down to me over the years.
‘No, it’s nice!’ Adam says, kissing my neck. ‘Just not very . . . you. You know I prefer you in jeans and a T-shirt.’ He starts untucking my blouse and I tap his hand away.
‘It’s for Marion’s benefit though, not yours.’ I smooth my hair in the mirror and try to ignore Adam’s advances. ‘I want to prove to her that I can be a perfect wife.’
‘I’m pretty sure her idea of a perfect wife is very different from mine,’ Adam murmurs, slipping his arms around my waist and then sliding them up and over my body.
‘Control yourself,’ I chastise playfully, batting his lips away and twizzling around. ‘Or I’ll be in trouble with Marion.’
> ‘Just forget about my mum for now, you’ve been saying we haven’t seen enough of each other recently . . .’ Adam breathes. ‘How about we do something about that right now . . .’ And he unpeels my fingers from my bag, drops it on the floor and leads me back upstairs.
Two hours later, with slightly messier hair than I intended, we drive through the imposing electronic gates and up the enormously long driveway before pulling up in front of Adam’s parents’ Georgian mansion.
Milly and Jay’s classic racing-green convertible Mini is here already and there are several other cars parked in the drive – which does not mean there are a lot of guests, by the way – George buys classic cars like most people buy new clothes.
Just then the front door swings open and Marion stands there in a wrap dress that somehow strikes the casual-chic balance that my outfit does not.
‘Finally!’ she says emphatically and throws her arms around Adam whilst I, sweating profusely, extricate the orchid I bought for her from the back seat and proffer it with a smile. Marion looks at me from over Adam’s shoulder.
‘My, my, you have got all dressed up for just a laid-back family Sunday lunch. Aren’t you a little . . . hot?’ She doesn’t wait for me to answer, she simply turns to Adam and raises a thin, arched brow. ‘You didn’t tell her what I said, did you? That was just meant to be between you and me . . .’