‘Of course it is,’ she says. ‘But you know you can visit any time you want, right? We’ve got lots of spare rooms here at The Waves.’
I laugh.
‘Pricing will be jolly reasonable too,’ Heather jokes, with a wink.
‘I’m not sure how Joe would feel about that,’ I say.
‘No,’ Heather agrees. ‘Well, maybe not just yet. But one day soon. We’ll get there, won’t we? To being friends, I mean?’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘We can try, at any rate.’
‘Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?’ she asks, and I’m touched by her concern.
‘I do,’ I tell her. ‘I’m at the Bay Royal.’
‘Oh, good,’ she says. ‘It’s supposed to be nice there.’
‘Could I borrow Ben again, do you think? For dinner? It’s just that tomorrow, I’m going to head home, so . . .’
‘Oh, of course,’ Heather says. ‘Take them all!’
I laugh. ‘Nice try, but I’ll just have Ben, if it’s all the same to you.’
She nods and smiles. ‘He’s your son,’ she says. ‘Don’t worry. We’re not going to forget that. We’re never going to forget that.’
‘Actually, Ben said – you know, for next week? He said he’d rather come to mine.’
‘Of course,’ Heather says. ‘I don’t blame him. If I had to make that choice, I’d rather go to yours too.’
She reaches out for my wrist again, but I snatch it away. ‘Don’t,’ I say. ‘Please don’t be too nice, otherwise I’ll cry again.’
‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘People being nice always makes me cry too.’
‘Is Ant doing the same thing?’ I ask. ‘Taking the girls in the school holidays?’
She nods. ‘Not that much, to tell the truth. Not as much as I would have thought. But it kind of suits me that way, if I’m being honest.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Maybe later on,’ Heather says. ‘Perhaps he’ll take them more once things settle. Or maybe not.’
‘Did you know—?’ I start to ask, but Heather is speaking at the same time.
‘He’s got a girlfriend, now,’ she says. Then, ‘Oh, you know, do you?’
‘Yes, I saw her,’ I tell her. ‘She was there.’
‘What’s she like?’ Heather asks.
‘Skinny,’ I say, with a shrug. ‘Young. Very young.’
‘You don’t care then?’
I shake my head. ‘No,’ I say honestly. ‘No, I really don’t.’
‘No. Me neither. You know, Amy, just so you know, I always liked you.’
‘Why, thank you!’ I say, embarrassed at the unexpected compliment.
‘I just . . . I don’t know. I needed to say that for some reason. Because it’s true, I suppose. And I never said it.’
‘Oh, I just remembered,’ I say, standing. ‘I have something for you in the car.’
Heather follows me outside to the Mazda and I pop open the trunk. The sun is shining and gulls are screeching and swooping overhead, surfing the sea breeze.
‘Oh,’ Heather says, not sounding particularly thrilled as she peers at the contents. ‘The Buddha!’
‘I thought I should bring it back,’ I say. ‘It was a wedding gift from Reg. He brought it back from Thailand, I think. You said you liked it once, didn’t you?’
‘I liked it at yours,’ Heather says. ‘But it’s very big, isn’t it?’
I laugh. ‘You don’t want it at all, do you?’
‘It’s just so big,’ Heather says. ‘And so green.’
‘I can take it back home if you want,’ I tell her.
Heather stares at the Buddha for a moment and gently taps a finger against her lips. ‘Would you mind?’ she says finally, while brushing her hair from her eyes. ‘It’s just . . . I really . . . I don’t know . . .’
‘You’re right,’ I say, finally understanding. ‘It doesn’t belong here, does it?’
‘No,’ Heather says. ‘Not really. I mean, we could ask Joe, but . . . well . . . especially as it was a wedding present.’
I close the trunk just as Joe’s pickup arrives. He climbs out and comes to join us. ‘So, how are my favourite two ladies?’ he asks, gently resting a hand on each of our backs.
‘Um, I doubt that I’m still among your favourites,’ I say. ‘But that’s OK. I deserve it.’
Joe frowns, visibly considering the matter. ‘No,’ he says. ‘No, you’re definitely still up there, in the top two.’
I pop the trunk open, revealing, once again, the Buddha.
‘Ooh!’ Joe says. ‘The Buddha in the boot.’
‘Yes, we’re just discussing what to do with it,’ I explain. ‘Do you think Reg wants it back?’
Joe shakes his head. ‘He’d be mortified,’ he says. ‘It was a wedding present.’
‘It was supposed to bring us good luck,’ I remind him.
‘Yes,’ Joe says. ‘Exactly. Like I say, he’d be mortified. Just flog it, maybe, if you can? It’s got to be worth a bob or two. I don’t want it any more, that’s for sure.’ And with that, he slams the trunk shut. ‘I bought the paint,’ he tells Heather, ‘for the dining room.’
‘Ooh!’ Heather says, ‘Let’s see.’ She follows him to the rear of the pickup truck and exclaims, ‘Christ, Joe! What the hell is that?’
‘It’s paint,’ he says. ‘It’s called Crimson Night.’
‘We said teal, Joe,’ Heather laughs. ‘That’s about as far from teal as you could find. In fact, if you had one of those colour charts, that would be right on the opposite side of the wheel.’
‘That may be true,’ Joe says, scratching his ear. ‘But I think it’ll look cool, don’t you?’
‘A boudoir is what it’ll look like!’ Heather says.
‘Maybe a boudoir is what I’m aiming for.’
‘You’re so naughty!’ Heather says, reaching out to poke him in the ribs.
‘Yeah, but not as naughty as you,’ Joe says, fighting back.
I stand there in a daze, watching them. They look so right together that it hurts. They look as if they have never been apart. They seem young, for some reason, too, as if they’re just starting out in life. Which, in a way, I suppose they are.
‘I’m off,’ I shout, giving them a fingertip wave. ‘I’ll pick Ben up about seven, OK?’
‘But we need to talk, don’t we?’ Joe says. ‘We need to talk about Ben.’
‘No, it’s sorted,’ I tell him. ‘Everyone’s agreed.’
‘It’s OK,’ Heather reassures Joe, slipping one arm around his waist. ‘Everything’s OK.’
‘Oh, OK,’ Joe says. ‘I’ll, um, see you later then, Ame. Seven, you say?’
‘That’s right,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll be back at seven.’
Joe
We watch Amy drive away, and then I turn to Heather and frown. ‘Have you negotiated a peace deal in my absence, clever clogs?’
She grabs one of the pots of paint from the truck and I lift the other one and begin to follow her across the main road. ‘I have,’ she says. ‘Though, actually, I didn’t have to negotiate anything at all.’
We enter the house and stack the pots of paint against the wall. ‘Well?’ I ask.
She turns towards me and pecks me on the lips. ‘Only everything we wanted,’ she says.
‘Term times here?’ I ask, and Heather nods. ‘School holidays with Amy?’ Another nod. ‘You’re a genius,’ I tell her, kissing her back.
She takes my hand and leads me through to the kitchen. ‘It really wasn’t me at all,’ she says. ‘It was just what Ben wanted. All I did was reassure her that we’ll never get in the way of her seeing him.’
‘That’s still amazing,’ I say. Things have been so messy for so long and suddenly the last cloud on my horizon has vanished. I wish I’d bought champagne instead of paint.
‘What?’ Heather asks.
‘What, what?’ I say.
‘What, what?’ she repeats comically. ‘I mean, what are you grinni
ng about?’
‘I just can’t believe everything’s sorted,’ I tell her. ‘Just like that.’
‘I know,’ she says. ‘It’s like a dream, isn’t it? This house, the kids, the two of us . . . Who ever thought any of that could happen?’
At that moment, Sarah enters the kitchen. ‘Mummy,’ she says. ‘I can’t find the Lego.’
‘That’s Lego,’ Heather says, releasing my hand and crouching down to indicate the object in Sarah’s hand.
‘I mean the rest of the Lego,’ she says. ‘I want to make a plane. Ben’s got a proper one, and if I find the box of Lego then I can make one, too.’
‘What’s this, though?’ Heather asks, examining the wheeled monstrosity in Sarah’s hand.
‘It’s a bus,’ Sarah says, holding it up. ‘Like the one at the airport in Spain. But now I want to make the plane.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, honey, but I don’t know where it is,’ Heather says. ‘You’ll just have to look.’
‘But I need it!’ Sarah says. ‘Can you look, please?’
‘Not right now, sweetheart,’ Heather insists. ‘I’m afraid you’ll just have to make do for now. But I’ll look for it later, I promise.’
‘But I need to build a plane!’ Sarah says again.
‘Hey, why don’t you use those pieces to make a plane?’ I suggest, crouching down to join them both at floor level.
‘You can’t use a bus as a plane,’ Sarah says. ‘Silly!’
‘If you pull it apart, you can,’ I tell her. ‘Pull it to pieces and use the bricks to make a plane.’
‘But I don’t want to pull it apart,’ she says.
‘Well,’ I say, looking up at Heather and winking. ‘Sometimes, in order to build something new, you first have to break something old into pieces.’
Heather frowns at me for a moment before she understands what I’m saying, and then slips into a smile instead. ‘That’s true, actually, Sarah,’ she says. ‘Just make sure whatever you decide to build is much better than the thing you’re pulling apart and you’ll be fine. That way you’ll have no regrets.’
Sarah grimaces. She looks unconvinced.
‘I’m sorry, honey,’ Heather says. ‘But for now that’s your only choice. But later on, I’ll help you find the box, OK?’
Sarah rolls her eyes and tuts, making us both laugh, and then flounces her way out of the kitchen.
We straighten and I spin Heather around so that I can slip my hands around her waist.
‘So, is that what we’ve done?’ she asks as I nuzzle her neck. ‘I was wondering.’
‘What’s that?’ I say.
‘Have we pulled something apart to build something new?’
I laugh and kiss her neck. ‘We have,’ I tell her. ‘That’s exactly what we’ve done.’
‘Well, I hope the new relationship is a bit better than the old one,’ she says cheekily.
‘It had better be,’ I tell her, tickling her waist. ‘Otherwise, there’ll be trouble.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Rosemary for the original idea from which this novel hatched and for being my writer’s touchstone since this whole adventure began. Thanks to Lolo for being there day to day as I slog out those words. And thanks to Victoria, Celine, Jenni, Sarah and everyone else at Lake Union for all their hard work on this novel.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Rosie Aston-Snow
Nick Alexander was born in 1964 in the UK. He has travelled widely and has lived and worked in the UK, the USA and France, where he resides today. From Something Old is his sixteenth novel. Nick is the author of multiple international bestsellers, including Things We Never Said, The Photographer’s Wife and The Other Son. Nick’s novels have been translated into French, German, Italian, Spanish, Norwegian, Turkish and Croatian. Nick lives in the southern French Alps with his partner, four cats and three trout.
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