by Jenny Oliver
Amber sat back, surprised at the outburst in her head. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were welling up with relief.
The young scratching woman sneered. ‘Boo hoo, the English crying. Boo hoo,’ she said, doing circle fists in front of her eyes.
Amber was crying, she couldn’t stop.
But instead of laughing, the old purple-haired woman leant forward and handed her a dirty old handkerchief, causing the young scratching girl to pause. And Amber to realise this woman wasn’t at all like her mother either.
An hour later a police officer opened the cell door and beckoned Amber out into the bright white corridor.
The purple-haired woman said a string of something in French that Amber didn’t understand but it came with a smile and a little pat on the arm as Amber handed back the handkerchief. She found herself wanting to grip the gnarly old hand tight, instead she smiled back and said, ‘Merci.’ The woman tipped her head. The policeman ushered Amber away.
Once out the door, Amber couldn’t move fast enough to get away. She scrawled her name on various forms and was reunited with her possessions. As she moved she could smell the disgusting stench of stale sweat and jail ingrained on herself. She rummaged through her bag for her phone to see if there were any more messages from Billy but there was nothing. She saw the Nicorette patches and was surprised that she hadn’t thought of them since first being incarcerated. She slapped one on for good measure and stalking out through the waiting area, the green plastic seats, the miserable posters, she marched outside and down the steps, pausing to absorb the view of the little square, the huge leafed trees, the boules players. Swallows swooping in the wide expanse of blue sky. The freedom.
Over on a bench under the plane trees she saw Julia. The sight of her an unexpected relief.
Julia jumped up, she looked tired and hot. ‘You’re out!’ she called.
Amber nodded. She walked over to where Julia was walking towards her. And when they were level, Amber said, ‘What a bloody nightmare.’ She laughed. Then she said, ‘I’m sorry for all the stuff I said.’
Julia shrugged as if it was nothing. ‘That’s OK.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘it wasn’t OK. It was mean. I was upset and I took it out on you.’
Julia seemed quite taken aback by the confession. ‘It’s OK,’ she said again. ‘I think most of it was true anyway.’
‘No,’ Amber shook her head.
Julia rolled her eyes like she knew she was lying.
Amber said, ‘Maybe some of it was true, but I shouldn’t have said it the way I did.’
Julia looked down at the dusty floor and nodded her head.
‘And thank you for the passport thing. I really appreciate it,’ Amber added, relishing the feeling of the sun shimmering over her skin, burning down on the parting of her hair.
‘I was shitting myself,’ said Julia, with an incredulous laugh.
‘I’m not surprised,’ Amber grinned. ‘It was tense! He was an arsehole. But you were bloody marvellous.’
Julia blushed. ‘Thanks.’
‘I told you she looks like everyone.’
Julia rolled her eyes.
Amber smiled. ‘I will be eternally grateful.’
Julia looked away, embarrassed by the attention. ‘What happens now?’ she asked.
Amber started to walk over towards the bench, ‘They’ve banned me from driving for three months. And I have to come back to go to court at some point.’
Julia looked horrified. ‘What are you going to do? What are you going to do with all the stuff?’
Amber shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’ She sat with her arms forward, her elbows resting on her thighs, looking out over at the cafés, the little boutique, the shop selling white china and candles. She felt calmer than she had in years. Finally accepting of what was to come. She reached into her bag and got out her phone. ‘Right now all I know is that I have to text Lovejoy.’
Julia’s head shot round. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah,’ Amber nodded. ‘Really. And then I have to find a shower because I absolutely reek.’
Chapter Eighteen
The message Amber sent Lovejoy was short but to the point. Billy could be yours. She didn’t call. She wanted to give him the facts, tell him where they were, and then deal with the fallout. It was possibly a cop-out but she hadn’t changed that much.
She put the phone back in her bag. From beside her, Julia said, ‘There’s a gymnasium up the hill, they’ll have a shower.’
They walked together past neat flowerbeds wilting in the heat. The air smelling of freshly cut grass.
Amber pushed open the heavy glass doors of the gym and, in no mood to negotiate the price of a shower, paid for one adult to swim, hired a towel and bought a gym branded T-shirt, sports bra and pair of grey tracksuit bottoms from the selection of training wear by the desk.
While Amber was paying, Julia asked the guy behind the desk if he’d plug her phone in to charge and handed it over when he agreed. Then looking back in her bag, said to Amber, ‘Oh I forgot, I have a new pair of pants from the pack I bought at the market. Do you want them?’ She handed Amber a rolled-up pair of giant baby blue knickers.
Amber laughed when she saw them, ‘Blimey, they weren’t what I was expecting.’ She held the giant piece of material up for all to see.
Julia swatted it away, cheeks pink, embarrassed. ‘I don’t normally wear pants like that!’
Amber raised a brow. ‘Maybe you should. Might grab Charlie’s attention.’
Julia looked even more embarrassed, making Amber grin slyly as she bundled up her pile of clothes and headed for the showers.
Alone in the chlorine-scented changing rooms, Amber found a locker and stripped her dirty clothes off, then stood under the tepid stream of water in the swimming pool shower. She could feel the prison stench start to wash away. Feel the cleansing cool water build her up for what was next.
She reappeared in the baggy grey tracksuit bottoms and matching T-shirt, her hair wet and wavy. Julia was hovering in the reception area, her phone and charger in hand. ‘I have to get some clothes,’ Amber said as she joined her. Then noticing the slight wildness of Julia’s eyes, added, ‘Why do you look so nervous?’
Julia swallowed. ‘Lovejoy’s here.’
Amber flinched. She felt a lurching sickness like a train stopping suddenly. Then she took a deep breath and said, ‘Where?’
‘Outside.’
Amber took a deep breath in through her nose. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Here goes.’ And stepped out into the blinding sunshine.
He was in her face the moment her foot hit the pavement.
‘You should have told me,’ Lovejoy hissed, the lines on his face grooved in anger. His eyes furious. ‘Eighteen years and you didn’t tell me I could be a father?’
‘No I didn’t,’ she said, staring straight up at him.
He looked away, ran his hand through his hair. He huffed and paced. He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what she was saying.
Amber saw Martin perched on the wall of the car park, keeping a safe distance.
Julia was hovering by the gymnasium doors.
‘Shall we walk,’ said Amber.
Lovejoy joined her for a few paces then stopped at the corner of the gym where it was shaded by an awning. ‘I can’t believe you kept this from me. I can’t believe you let Billy grow up believing that idiot Ned was his father.’
‘Ned is not an idiot,’ said Amber. ‘You can say what you like about me, Lovejoy, but I will not let you slag off Ned.’
Lovejoy scoffed. ‘He was always hanging around, all dopey and eager with you. Of course you picked him. He’d do anything you said.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Amber replied sharply. ‘He was there for me at a time when I needed him and he’s done nothing but be a good father to Billy.’
‘Because he was given the bloody chance, Amber,’ snapped Lovejoy, turning to rage at the wall. Then looking back at Amber, thumped his hand t
o his chest and said, ‘You didn’t give me a chance!’
‘You weren’t here!’ she countered. ‘And you’d told everyone you weren’t coming back! By the time you were here, what could I do? Billy was settled, happy. There was no way I was going to jeopardise that.’
Lovejoy shot her a furious look. Pacing, hands raking through his hair. To Amber it felt like he was acting a part he’d read in a script rather than showing his true emotions.
‘Lovejoy,’ she said, a little softer, ‘can you honestly look at me and tell me you’d have been there for me if I’d told you?’ her eyes beseeching as she studied his reaction.
But Lovejoy wasn’t in the mood. ‘Don’t you turn this round on me, Amber, I am the victim here.’
Amber almost stamped her foot. ‘We’re all victims, Lovejoy. Can you just imagine for one second what your reaction would have been if I’d told you I was pregnant? If I recall correctly, you’d just flown off to America to make that so-called fortune, telling everyone you weren’t coming back till you’d made a million. You were strutting about all full of it, talking about yourself in the third person, “Babe, Lovejoy doesn’t do commitment…”’ she put on a voice that made Lovejoy wince.
‘I didn’t say it like that,’ Lovejoy muttered.
‘Yes you did. Christ,’ Amber was getting angry now, ruining her decision to be calm and accepting, ‘You were telling everyone how you were going to come back loaded. Now imagine I’d told you. Imagine I’d told you there was a fifty per cent chance the baby was yours. Would you have come back?’ She glared at him. ‘I needed someone there then.’
He glared back at her. She could see him breathing. He didn’t answer.
He raked his hands through his hair. He kicked the wall. Then he said, ‘Don’t make me out to be the bad one, Amber. You’re the one who’s made the mistake.’
Amber huffed. ‘Yes, I’m a despicable person.’
‘Oh you can’t just say that and expect to get away with it,’ he said, right up close to her now, pointing his finger in her face.
She stepped back. ‘I’m not hoping to get away with it. I know what happened, I know what I’ve done. Yes, I made a mistake, but I did it with the best intentions for my kid in mind,’ she said with full confidence. ‘But fine, yes, be angry with me, but right now, if you want to be a father, think about Billy not yourself. That’s the first step. Think you can do that?’
Lovejoy looked like he wanted to murder her.
Amber went on, ‘Hate me, that’s fine, but I have to sort this out with Billy. And you have to decide if you’re going to be a part of that.’
Lovejoy folded his arms across his chest and glared at her. ‘Oh I’m going to be a part of that.’
‘Fine,’ said Amber glaring back.
Chapter Nineteen
Amber and Lovejoy were at a stand-off, poses mirrored, both furious. The sun was boiling, the air almost misty with heat. Martin was sitting on the wall over by the car park, swinging his leg and scrolling through his phone. Julia was getting a Sprite out of the vending machine. Amber had to remind herself that she was meant to be calm about this. She took a deep breath. She uncrossed her arms.
Lovejoy turned away and kicked the dirt on the floor a couple of times. Then he said, ‘So what do we do now?’ through gritted teeth.
Amber shook her head and said, ‘I don’t know. I think we have to find Billy. Talk to him, face to face.’
Lovejoy nodded, face taut.
Then Julia stepped forward and said, ‘I think he might be headed to a place called Noirmoutier. It’s where your Richard Shepherd is on holiday.
‘Noirmoutier?’ said Lovejoy. ‘Where the hell’s that?’
‘It’s an island off the west coast of France,’ she said, coming closer. ‘Famous for oysters, potatoes and salt,’ she did a little laugh. Martin fell into step with her and smiled too, like they were doing everything they could to lessen the tension.
Amber shielded her eyes from the sun. ‘How do you know?’
‘I found him on Facebook – well actually Charlie did, while you were in prison.’
Amber said, ‘You called Charlie,’ surprised, storing the information away as Julia nodded.
‘Right well,’ said Lovejoy, getting his phone out and googling directions. ‘Let’s go.’
‘I have to buy some clothes first,’ said Amber, ‘I can’t go like this,’ she gestured down at her grey tracksuit.
Lovejoy huffed.
‘It’ll take five minutes and it’s on the way,’ Amber snapped.
‘Fine,’ Lovejoy snapped back.
The baking sun seemed to only aggravate the atmosphere between them as they trudged down the hill, past the gardener on the lawn mower and the pansies that spelt out the name of the town.
The silence was obviously too much for Julia because she said, ‘I could get some clothes, too. I’ve worn everything I brought with me.’
‘You know, honey, if I can say,’ Martin moved in front of Julia as they trudged down the hill, walking backwards so he could face her, ‘I don’t think the length of that skirt is your friend.’
Surprised by the comment, everyone turned to examine Julia, dressed all in white, in what Amber thought looked like something she’d raided from Lexi Warrington’s closet.
‘I quite like it,’ Lovejoy said, studiously refusing to look anywhere near Amber, like she didn’t exist.
Martin shook his head. ‘Yes, if she lopped six inches off the bottom. Right now it’s not doing her legs any favours.’
Julia looked down as she walked. ‘What’s it doing to my legs?’
Martin winced. ‘It’s just. Well. Let’s just say it’s cutting them off at your most vulnerable point.’
‘Are you saying I have fat calves?’ Julia asked.
Lovejoy snorted.
‘No,’ Martin shook his head.
Amber felt herself smiling for the first time since seeing Lovejoy.
Martin was still walking backwards down the hill, gesticulating as he tried to explain himself, suddenly in his element. ‘I’m saying you need to think less about fashion and more about your best bits.’
‘Well how do I know what my best bits are?’ Julia asked.
‘Everyone knows their best bits,’ said Martin, frowning. ‘Like mine is my hair and my shoulders. I have terrible feet and never show my toes. I bet Amber knows her best bits.’ He looked at Amber.
‘My legs and my arms,’ Amber replied without hesitation. ‘My hair. My mouth. My eyes. My arse.’
‘Everything except her personality,’ said Lovejoy.
Amber ran her tongue along her top teeth, refusing to rise to it.
Julia hurried over the tension and said, ‘I don’t think I have any best bits.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Martin. ‘Everyone has best bits. We just need to find them’
There was one clothes shop in the tiny village. The mannequins in the window wore tweed suits and polyester skirts with nude tights and moccasins.
‘This looks like our kind of place,’ Martin mocked as they pushed open the door to the musty shop, the little bell tinkling above the doorway.
‘Bonjour,’ said a grey-haired woman behind the counter, slightly suspicious of the posse.
‘Bonjour,’ Amber greeted her with a tight smile.
Julia smiled sweetly. Martin waved. Lovejoy nodded his head.
Amber started flicking fast through the rails of brown-striped knitted sweaters and beige slacks then stopped, hands on hips, to state, ‘No. There’s nothing here I can wear.’
Then the woman behind the counter came over and reeling something off in rapid French that Amber didn’t understand, pointed her to a different section of the shop that, while still not being Amber’s standard fare, was a hundred per cent better than what she had been looking at. All Breton tops, silk shirts and white Capri pants. Clothes French women might wear on a yacht.
Martin came over as well and feigned a heart attack over a red dress with a white
flower print. ‘Julia, get over here,’ he summoned Julia who was on the other side of the shop holding up pastel ribbed vest tops.
‘You really have no clue, do you?’ he reprimanded, snatching a baby pink T-shirt from her hands and taking it back to the table saying, ‘This is the worst colour for your skin.’ Then he held up the red dress. ‘This, this is what you should be wearing.’ He pointed to the different parts of the design. ‘A neat little waist. A length that cuts off just above the knee to lengthen your legs which, while not long,’ he lifted up the hem of the white wafty skirt she had on, ‘aren’t bad. And then a big V here,’ he gestured to her chest, ‘to show off your bosom.’
Julia chuckled, covering her chest with her arms. ‘I don’t have a bosom.’
Lovejoy, who was lounging on a comfy chair near the window, said, ‘You’ve got a bosom, kid, believe me.’
Julia flushed beetroot, Amber internally rolled her eyes as she flicked through the rack. She could feel Lovejoy watching her for a reaction and refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back.
After ushering Julia into the changing room, Martin looked at the clothes Amber had picked – a pair of black cigarette pants and a black sleeveless polo-neck. ‘Branching out, I see.’
‘I like black,’ Amber said.
He plucked a canary yellow silk shirt from the rail and handed it to her. ‘Go on, I dare you.’
Amber shook her head. ‘I’m not your project.’
Martin ignored her, reaching into her changing room and hanging the shirt up. ‘Everyone’s my project.’
Julia and Amber were side by side in the brown changing rooms. Amber could hear Julia saying, ‘Oh I don’t know about this, it’s very revealing.’
Amber changed out of the tracksuit bottoms to pull on the narrow black cigarette pants, she smiled at the huge knickers Julia had given her, imagining the shock on Julia’s husband’s face if he ever got to see his wife in them. That’d get him out of the bloody man cave.
As she was doing up the buttons, Amber called over the changing room partition, ‘Did you find anything else on Google, Julia, that Billy might have found? Anything more than that photograph?’