by Isabel Wolff
‘You are,’ said Luke indignantly. ‘Everyone says so.’
‘Thank you,’ she sniffed. ‘But he said that he didn’t feel—uh-uh—that I was…right for him. But I am right for him,’ she wept. ‘Of course I am. I mean, I’d just spent £80 on a very nice present for his mother when I don’t even like her.’
‘Of course you’re right for him,’ said Luke crossly. ‘The man’s a fool!’ I didn’t know whether this was genuine spousal loyalty, or irritation at the potential impact this would have on him.
‘He said—uh-uh—he’d been tryink to find the right way to say it for weeks.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with his work has it?’ Luke asked her. ‘That client of his that you had that little disagreement with?’
There was a pause. ‘Which one?’
‘The one you called an idiot?’
‘Oh, no, it’s got nothink to do with that,’ she wept. ‘That horrrrrible little man’s gone to another firm now so no, that’s not the reason.’
Luke rolled his eyes.
‘Is dumping her Steve’s revenge then?’ I asked as we absorbed it all a few moments later.
Luke shook his head. ‘No. He’d liked her—he must have done to have stuck with her this long—but he obviously realized that she was too high risk. A man like that wants a well-behaved, corporate wife, and that’s not Magda—but this is very bad news for me.’
‘Do you think she’ll still let Jessica go to Venice?’
He gave a defeated sigh. ‘No. She’ll be so miserable that she’ll want her at home.’
‘Poor Jessica,’ I said. At one point we’d heard her say, ‘Don’t cry, Mummy. I’ll look after you. Please don’t cry Mummy…’ It was heartbreaking.
I kept expecting to hear that Venice was off. I even wondered, guiltily, whether, if Jessica couldn’t go, Luke would take me instead. But as the days went by, nothing was said. Magda phoned up just as much, but Luke didn’t put the speaker on any more as he said he thought it unfair to her, in her distressed state.
‘So it’s still happening then is it?’ I asked him on the Wednesday, two days before he was due to go. We were watching the quiz. The commercial break had just started.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It is.’
‘Magda’s letting you take Jessica?’ He nodded. ‘Do you think she’ll put a spanner in the works at the last minute?’
‘No. I…don’t think so.’ He seemed slightly on edge. He was obviously still worried that she might do exactly that.
‘Well, it’s good that she’s not being selfish about it—especially as she’s so unhappy.’ I felt a surge of respect for her, which took me aback.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ Luke said.
‘Really? What?’
He reached behind the sofa, and pulled out a carrier bag, on which was printed Georgina von Etzdorf. Inside was a silk dressing gown, of exquisite loveliness, with a pattern of pink tulips.
‘Thank you.’ I kissed him. ‘It’s beautiful.’ I put it on.
‘Well, it was the least I could do. I meant to get one for you before, but I’ve been too busy.’
‘I love it, and I’ll cherish it.’ I slipped my arm through his. ‘So tell me again how long you’ll be away?’
‘Four days. Luckily the school’s closed on the Friday for teacher training, which gives us an extra day, and we’ll be back on Monday night.’
‘And when’s the wedding?’
‘On Saturday afternoon.’
‘And where are you staying again?’ He looked at me. ‘It’s just that I’d like the phone number there. You said it was called the Hotel…what was it? I can’t remember.’
‘Well…I’ll have my mobile on. Hey, the quiz is starting again.’ We stared at the screen.
Where, after the fall of France, in June 1940, were the headquarters of the French state located?
‘Vichy!’ shouted Luke.
Correct.
I didn’t see Luke again before he left for Venice, because Jessica was staying the night with him. I phoned him at Heathrow as they waited to board.
‘Is Jessica excited?’
‘Yes, she is. Aren’t you darling?’ he called. ‘Jessica!’
‘Yes,’ I heard her reply, a little way off. ‘I’m so excited!’ I was glad that, apart from seeing Venice, she’d have a break from her mother’s misery.
‘What time will you get there?’
‘About two, and we’ll check into the hotel then go exploring.’ Bing-Bong. ‘The flight’s being called—I’ll ring you later.’
I missed Luke, but I was happy for him as I visualised the two of them, floating along the lagoon on a gondola, or taking the Vaporetta. I imagined Jessica’s face as she saw the canals and churches and palaces and paintings. I imagined her listening to Luke as he told her a little bit about Georgione, Titian and Veronese. She was just old enough to appreciate the trip.
Luke and I spoke briefly that night—they’d been to Murano, to see the glass blowing—and he rang me at breakfast time the next day. Then they were going to be at the wedding, so I didn’t ring him again. But by eight I thought it would be nice to speak to him, but his mobile was switched off, so, to distract myself, I turned on the TV. A drama about Gallipoli had just started, scheduled, according to the paper, for its 90th anniversary. There was a scene in a field hospital, and I suddenly saw Tara McLeod. She was playing the female lead—a nurse who falls in love with a wounded officer, but he’s married with a baby so they can’t do anything about it. It was the reverse of what had happened in real life. As the final credits rolled, I wondered whether Tom had been watching it too, and how he might have felt.
By now it was ten. I’d heard nothing from Luke all day and was beginning to feel anxious. I dialled his number. He’d still be awake.
‘This is Luke North. I’m sorry I can’t speak to you, but if you leave me a message…’ I hate answerphones, so I didn’t.
I slept badly, and woke early. I glanced at the alarm—it was ten past seven—ten past eight there. Ten minutes later I dialled him again, but he still wasn’t answering. I wished I had the number for the hotel so that I could try him in his room before he and Jess went out for the day. What was it called again? The Hotel…Danieli. That was it. I got the number from directory enquiries. There were three long beeps as it rang.
‘Pronto…’
As I drew back the curtains, I asked to speak to Luke North. No, I didn’t know what his room number was. Mr Luke North from London.
‘Luca North. I ‘ave it now,’ the receptionist said. ‘Signor and Signora North.’ Signorina North, I mentally corrected him. ‘Un atimo, per favore.‘
The dialling tone changed as the phone in the room rang. Once. Twice. Three times. He wasn’t there. Five times…He and Jessica must be at breakfast. Or perhaps he was in the shower and couldn’t hear it. Perhaps they’d already gone out. I imagined them crossing St Mark’s Square, scattering pigeons. Suddenly the phone was picked up.
‘Hello?’ said a bleary, but familiar voice.
I felt a sudden flood of warmth in my chest, then my knees buckled beneath me like a stunned animal.
‘Hello?’ she repeated as I sank on to the bed. Signora.
‘Magda?’ I croaked. There was silence. I could hear my heart banging beneath my ribs. I felt sick and breathless. ‘Is that Magda?’ There was no reply, then I heard a grumble of noise as the phone was passed over.
‘Hello?’ I heard Jessica say anxiously.
‘Jessica, it’s Laura.’
‘Hello,’ she said again.
‘Jessica…’
‘My dad’s not here,’ she said. ‘He’s eating his breakfast.’
‘Was that your mum?’ I said weakly.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I mean—no. Do you want to speak to my dad? He’ll be back soon.’
‘It’s okay,’ I murmured. ‘I don’t want to. Goodbye Jessica.’
I heard a little sigh of relief. ‘G’bye.’
; I replaced the handset and stared at the wall.
That was why he’d been reluctant to give me the number for the hotel. That was why he’d had his mobile switched off most of the time—in case I heard Magda’s voice. That’s why he hadn’t had his home phone on speaker for the last few days—in case she accidentally mentioned the trip. That was why he’d been so confident that she wouldn’t sabotage it—because she knew that she was going too. And that’s why he’d given me the dressing gown, I realized, bitterly. Because he knew he was about to betray me. Again.
I sat on the bed for quite a few moments, too shocked to move. Then, I thought—strangely perhaps, given the circumstances—but then who’s looking after the goats?
By now the phone was ringing, as I knew it soon would.
Hi, this is Laura, sorry I’m not here…
It rang again. Then my mobile trilled out and I ignored
that too, and then my landline rang a third time. The red light remained illuminated. He was leaving a message.
‘Laura,’ I heard. ‘Pick up if you’re there will you? Please Laura. I’m really sorry. But I couldn’t tell you because I knew you’d go crazy and I know it looks awful, but Magda was totally hysterical about Steve—she was really depressed—and so she said I couldn’t take Jess, so we had this huge row, and I said it was wrong to penalise Jess for her own unhappiness, so then she said that I could take Jess—but only if she came too; and of course I didn’t want her to come, but she was making all sorts of threats and then she got Jessica to apply pressure as well so I was put in a position where it was impossible to say no, and I didn’t want Jess to miss the trip—she’d been looking forward to it so much. But I felt so bad about you, and I didn’t want to hurt you. I upgraded to a suite so that of course Magda’s not in the same room as me—she’s sharing the room next door with Jessica—but I told her not to pick up the phone.’ I heard him groan with frustration. ‘I told her not to pick up the phone,’ he repeated dismally. ‘But look, we’ll have a nice weekend somewhere together, just the two of us, maybe Prague or Budapest, no not Budapest obviously, I meant Bucharest, or maybe Barcelona. I haven’t been to Barcelona for years and I’d love—’
I pressed ‘Stop’. Then I showered and dressed. Today was May Day. The first of May. But I am disMayed, I thought. I put on flat shoes, and went out.
I walked up Portobello, where a few market traders were already starting to set up their stalls, then I went up Kensington Park Road, passing E & O with a pang, remembering Luke’s anguished telephone conversation with Magda on our first date; then I went through Ladbroke Square, and along Holland Park Avenue, past the tube, and now I was at the top of Clarendon Road. I stopped on the corner. I could see Hope’s house, the curtains drawn back. I rang the bell. No reply.
‘Hi Laura,’ she said, on her mobile a few moments later.
‘Are you there?’ I asked her.
‘No,’ she said, giggling. ‘We’re here.’
‘Where’s “here”?’
‘At Babington House. It’s Mike’s birthday.’
‘So it is. Sorry—I forgot.’
‘Don’t worry. I decided to whisk him off for a long weekend. It’s heaven—we’ve just been for a swim—and how are you?’ ‘I’m…okay.’ I didn’t want to spoil her happy mood. ‘Give me a call when you’re back.’
I phoned Fliss.
‘Hello?’ I heard her croak. She sounded exhausted. She’d obviously had a rough night with the baby.
‘Fliss—can I come round? I’ve just had a bit of a shock you see and—’
‘You’ve had a shock?’ she interrupted. ‘Well you’re not the only one! I’ve had a bloody nightmare—Hugh and I have had the most awful scene.’
‘Why?’
‘Because last night my computer crashed, so I logged on to his laptop—I know his password—and I found these e-mails. From her.’
‘Who?’
‘Chantal! You were right, Laura. I didn’t believe you—fool that I am—I thought it was just a business thing, but you were absolutely right. He said he couldn’t wait to see her again, and how he’d like to take her away for the weekend somewhere and…’ I heard a sob. ‘And her e-mail said she couldn’t wait to see him…But how could he? How could Hugh do that to me? He’s such a bastard. There we are with a seven month old baby—ooh can’t talk. It’sallrightdarling-mummy’scomingdon’tcry…‘
She hung up. I was relieved—I couldn’t cope, I had enough problems of my own. Now I crossed the road and went into Holland Park, up the steep slope and into the cool of the woods, last year’s leaves compacted and dry underfoot as I walked along the sun dappled path.
I told Magda not to pick up the phone. I told her not to…
So if only Magda had done as he’d asked, I would never have known. Was that it? Worse, he’d involved Jessica in the deceit—he must have done—because he knew she might blurt it out sometime, or show me her photos. Now I remembered the other time when he’d asked her to keep quiet.
You won’t tell Mummy that you met Laura tonight will you?
I remembered the droop of her head.
I was so angry my feet hardly touched the ground as I powered round the park, barely registering the thrusting lushness of everything, the carpet of bluebells in the woods, the flowering cherries in the Japanese garden, the glorious wisteria flowing over the walls of the Belvedere in a wash of lilac, the peacocks screeching on the lawn. Then I skirted the cricket pitch and left the park and now I was walking up Kensington High Street, some of the shops already open for Sunday trading, then along Kensington Gore past Kensington Palace, then I came to the Albert Memorial, Albert refulgent in the bright sunshine, beneath his gothic canopy, and turned in. I walked through Hyde Park, dodging the helmeted cyclists and abstracted looking roller-bladers, the Sunday fathers pushing buggies, the dogs running and playing, and, worst of all, the happy couples strolling hand in hand beneath the oaks and the London planes or canoodling on the chlorophyll grass.
Is that Magda? Still energized by anger, I walked up the eastern edge of the Park and found myself at Speakers’ Corner where the loonies were shouting out their insane beliefs.
- AN ALIEN INVASION IS IMMINENT…
- THEY’RE POISONING THE WATER SUPPLY…
- SO LET’S PUT THE GREAT BACK INTO GREAT BRITAIN…
- PRINCESS DIANA’S ALIVE!…
I pushed through the crowds of bystanders who were looking variously interested, bored, puzzled, or amused. I wanted to get up on a soapbox myself and deliver the deranged monologue which had been running through my head for the past hour and a half.
Now I cut back across the park and skirted the Serpentine, where ducks and moorhens bobbed about on the silty water; and now I was passing the Lido and the café, where people were sitting outside, having coffee, their faces uplifted to the sun. I pressed on, my left hip beginning to ache now as my feet pounded the path.
‘Laura!’ I heard. I stopped—then groaned inwardly. This was all I needed. ‘You look like you need a little sit down if you ask me.’
‘Nerys.’
‘How nice to see you.’ She was smiling at me with genuine delight. I felt a spasm of guilt for not being friendlier to her at work.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked. ‘Sorry—I just mean, I’m surprised to see you.’
‘My flat’s not far away—in Paddington.’
‘Of course. I’d forgotten.’ Today her hair was the colour of teak.
‘So I come here every Sunday—whatever the weather. I feed the ducks. I watch the world go by.’ She gestured to the other side of the lake. ‘I watch people boating. There’s nowhere like it,’ she concluded happily.
‘That’s nice,’ I said as her features began to blur.
She patted the bench. ‘I should have a breather if I were you, Laura. You look all in.’
‘I think I will.’
I sank down next to Nerys, suddenly glad of her company. In front of us, at the water’s edge, some
coots were squabbling over a piece of bread. I tried to remember the collective noun for them. What was it? I’d committed so many of them to memory, but my mind had gone blank. I knew it wasn’t a ‘flock’ or a ‘flight’, or a ‘gaggle’…A ‘cover’—that was it, wasn’t it? A ‘cover’ of coots?
‘Are you all right, Laura?’ Nerys asked; she gave me an oblique but penetrating glance.
I swallowed. ‘Yes, thanks Nerys. I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure?’ she said kindly. That was it. Now, at last, I burst into tears…
‘It was the shock of it,’ I wept.
Nerys shook her head. ‘So that’s your day ruined then—oh dear. Oh dear,’ she tut-tutted. For someone normally so full of herself, she was a sympathetic listener. ‘So his ex picked up the phone. Don’t upset yourself, Laura.’ She handed me a tissue. ‘But he shouldn’t have done that—he really should not have done that.’
‘It never occurred to me that he would.’
‘But from what you say, he spends a lot of time with her.’
‘Yes,’ I croaked. I pressed the tissue to my eyes. ‘It’s so that he can be with his child. It’s the price he pays.’
‘No, Laura.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s the price you pay.’ I didn’t reply. ‘Anyway, children or not,’ she went on briskly, ‘he can’t go away with his ex when he’s got you—that’s not on, is it? He should have cancelled the trip if you want my opinion.’
I smiled. For once I was delighted to have her opinion.
‘He didn’t want to disappoint his little girl,’ I stared across the lake. The sun glinted on the water.
- Jessica means everything to me. I miss her.
- Sometimes I just sit on her bed and cry.
- The separation’s been hard for her.
…just watching her sleeping…
- You’re joined to them—here—at the heart.
‘He adores her,’ I went on. ‘His love for her overshadows everything else, which means I often draw the short straw. It’s been so…frustrating, Nerys. We’ve been together for three months, but I’ve yet to spend a Sunday with him. I still feel as though I’m waiting for our relationship to start properly.’