by Jane Green
She recovered quickly. Those first few weeks of sobbing at the kitchen table gave way to peals of laughter. She made Gabby’s mother laugh more than Gabby had ever heard. Gabby would come home from school and find them cooking together, both of them giggling at something unspoken. Joanie made her mother seem younger, happier, softer.
One morning she was gone. There was no goodbye, no warning, just a stripped bed and empty wardrobe. Natasha refused to answer any questions Gabby had, stonewalling her and asking her not to mention her name. It was clear to Gabby there had been a betrayal, but she knew not to ask.
Gabby frowns. What did Joanie have to do with anything?
‘I fell in love with Joanie,’ her mother says simply, and Gabby’s eyes open wide in shock.
‘You had an affair with Joanie?’ But that’s not what she’s thinking. My mother is a lesbian? How is this possible? How is it possible that I do not know my mother at all?
‘I did. Oh don’t look so shocked. I didn’t plan to have an affair with anyone, and I certainly never thought I’d fall in love with a woman, of all things, but there it is. Joanie was utterly compelling. I wasn’t just in love with her, I was obsessed.’
‘Mum, I’m not sure I want to know all this.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m not going to give you any gory details. The point is, I fell in love with her, at an age not dissimilar to yours now, and part of it, so much of it, was me desperately trying to run away from the dreadful spectre of middle age. Joanie was much younger than me, and she made me laugh more than anyone had in years. And she made me feel young. Alive.’
This time Gabby nods silently. She knows what her mother’s talking about.
‘I was happily married, but this was something I couldn’t resist. I told myself it didn’t count, being a woman, but of course it did.’
‘Did Dad know?’
‘He knew I was infatuated with her, but he didn’t think, of course he didn’t, that it was anything more than a strong friendship. He didn’t know until afterwards, when I was so floored by grief I couldn’t get out of bed. Even then, I’m not sure he knew for certain.’
‘And he never confronted you, or said he was leaving?’
‘The thing is that I love your father. I have always loved your father. Of all the gifts he has given me, this was the greatest. I think he understood that I needed to have one final fling before settling into the afternoon of life. To be honest, I think the fact that it was a woman probably made things easier. I’m not sure he would have been so quietly circumspect had Joanie been Johnny.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I still can’t quite get over my mother revealing her secret lesbian tendencies. I’m a bit freaked-out right now.’
‘Get over it,’ Natasha says matter-of-factly. ‘And stop thinking about the sex stuff. I fell in love with a person who happened to be a woman, end of story.’
‘So, do you regret it?’
‘I regret causing pain to your father. When it ended and he was so sweet and solicitous to me, as I lay there sobbing in my pillows for weeks, I felt awful. You know your father. He went very quiet. Well, he’s always quiet, but for those weeks he barely said anything at all, and I regretted that. But I think he understood. We never spoke of her again.’
‘Do you know what happened to her?’
‘She left me for a young man she’d met at the bookstore. I know they split up after a couple of years and I lost track of her after that. I get cards from her sometimes, on my birthday. She never says anything other than wishing me a happy birthday, and I tend to put them in the bin. It was … a moment of madness. I’m lucky your father is the sort of man he is.’
‘The sort of man Elliott is not.’
‘I think Elliott might have handled things in much the same way had this little bundle of joy not come along. It’s very difficult for men to handle betrayal when they are forced to look at the evidence every day. It is, for them, a daily reminder that they somehow fell short, they weren’t able to make their wives happy, or happy enough.’
‘Do you really think that’s true?’
‘I do. But how about the father of delicious Henry? What does he have to say about all of this?’
Gabby turns her computer around so she can see the screen: Matt in his golden loveliness, smiling into her bedroom. ‘He doesn’t know.’
Natasha is shocked. ‘But you must tell him.’
‘Mum. Please. I’ve made a decision. This is my baby, and I don’t want him to feel obligated to be involved, or feel pressurized, or think I’m coming after him for money, or anything else. I made a decision, as soon as I found out, that he would never know.’
‘But what if he wants to be involved? What if he wants a child?’
‘Even worse!’ sputters Gabby. ‘The last thing I could handle right now is a custody battle. And he has money. Enough to pay for the best lawyers in the world. It would be a disaster. Anyway, I haven’t spoken to him in … nine months. It was one night. Nothing. I need to move on.’
‘Then what will you tell Henry about his father?’
‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
‘I can’t tell you what to do, but I urge you to reconsider. Henry has a right to know his father, and his father has a right, certainly, to know about Henry. The biggest mistake any of us can make is to keep secrets. They always come out in the end, and it is the ones that people make most effort to hide that cause the greatest problems. I truly believe that what is called for here is absolute clarity. You need to give his father the opportunity to step up. If he doesn’t, you will always know you have done the right thing.’
Gabby just stares at her mother. Everything she has told herself, every argument she has used to convince herself she is doing the best thing, now falls flat. Her mother is right.
She has to get in touch with Matt.
Gabby – I can’t believe I heard from you! It’s been, what? A year? Feels like for ever since you and I were in touch. After I came to visit, when everything got really awkward, I could tell you were uncomfortable so I thought it best to just keep my distance and give you some space. I figured you’d get in touch when you were ready, and this morning – there you were! Bringing a huge smile to my face. But you told me nothing – I don’t know anything about your life these past few months and I’m dying to hear your news. Did you turn the barn into a store? Are you now a furniture-restoring/furniture-selling mogul? Are you happy?
Life here is as crazy busy as ever. Remarkably, I’m in a relationship! Yes, you heard me right. A real relationship. Monroe is her name – I know, so LA :) – and she’s truly a great girl. She’s a model, but completely unlike so many of the airhead models I’ve come across out here. She has a degree in physics, and is very precise, and organized, and competent. I suppose I would describe her as a woman of substance. She reminds me of you in a lot of ways. She’s warm, and fun, and wickedly clever. She’s also the most secure woman I’ve ever met, other than you. She inhabits her skin comfortably and easily. I hope the two of you can meet – I know you’d get on.
So, what’s the cryptic message about wanting to talk to me? We could chat on Skype, but I’m coming to New York next week and it would be easy to fly out to Connecticut for lunch. Are you around next week? Does that work? Tuesday?
Am sending you a big hug, and I want to hear all your news. I’m so happy you got back in touch!
Matt xoxoxoxox
As soon as Gabby reads the message all traces of the anger and resentment she’d harboured towards Matt for months disappear entirely. She reads the email over and over, a large smile on her face.
Her own, to him, was stilted and short. She never expected such warmth, and, dare she say it, even love, in his email. But there is undoubtedly affection in every line, and the prospect of seeing him, of telling him about Henry, is suddenly far less frightening.
She sends him an email in reply, managing to fill it with fluff – books she has read that she loves, her happiness at him havi
ng found someone, her life being busier than ever.
She resists the temptation to drop even a hint into the email. Such life-changing, momentous news needs to be delivered in person, even in these digital times, and she phones Le Farm to book a quiet table so she can break the news.
Her figure is nowhere near ready for the jeans to be done up, so it is the ubiquitous yoga pants for her today, teamed with a flowing sweater and scarf, cute white sneakers.
I look like my mother, she thinks to herself with a smile as she checks her reflection before going downstairs.
‘You look like me!’ her mother exclaims as Gabby walks into the kitchen. She finds Henry reclining in a bouncing chair on the table, being fed, Natasha having warmed up a bottle of pre-pumped breast milk that was left in the fridge.
‘Mum!’ Gabby warns. ‘It’s not time. He’s not supposed to have that for another twenty minutes.’
‘But he was hungry!’ complains her mother, who still does not understand Gabby’s need to follow a routine, particularly since Gabby was fed on demand and slept in the family bed long before the concept of the family bed even had a name.
‘Okay, okay.’ Gabby can’t be bothered to argue. She has little tolerance for the screaming of a hungry newborn baby either. When Olivia and Alanna used to scream Elliott would take them in his arms and walk them endlessly up and down the stairs until they were quiet. With no Elliott, it is far easier to just feed Henry when he wants it.
Perhaps her mother is right after all.
‘You look beautiful,’ her mother says. ‘In all seriousness. You really ought to wear make-up more often.’
‘Thank you.’ Gabby leans down to give her a kiss, before planting a kiss on Henry. ‘Wish me luck.’
Natasha raises her free hand to show her fingers are crossed, before blowing Gabby a kiss as she heads out of the door.
She wasn’t nervous in the slightest before she pulled into the parking space outside the restaurant, but as soon as she parks she starts to feel slightly sick. How is she supposed to tell him? And when? Does she make small talk throughout lunch and drop the news like a bombshell over coffee? Would she even be able to do that? To pretend everything is fine, knowing she is about to change his life for ever?
Or does she blurt it out at the beginning, risking him storming out of the restaurant, leaving her alone and embarrassed to pay the bill? What if there’s someone she knows in there? What if there are women who overhear, who then spread rumours, or pass her pitying looks as she stumbles out in a fog of humiliation?
She pushes open the door, passes the heavy curtain, and scans the tiny restaurant to see Matt already there, in the corner, his face lighting up as he sees her. There is something so familiar about him, so reassuring about seeing him, and yet all the attraction she once felt has disappeared. It is like seeing a long-lost brother, not a man with whom she was once obsessed.
‘Gabby!’ He holds out his arms, giving her a huge hug, and she allows herself to be held, relieved not to have seen disappointment in his eyes. She no longer wants him, not in that way, but for him to be so instantly comfortable, so warm, so clearly pleased to see her gives her confidence, sets her at ease.
‘You look beautiful,’ he says, and it is clear he means it. ‘This has obviously been a good year for you.’
‘It has been … a tumultuous year,’ she says, seeing the opportunity, wishing it hadn’t presented itself quite so early on in the lunch. ‘You look handsome. And happy. I love your hair longer. It suits you.’
He blushes. ‘You won’t believe this but I think I’ve finally met the girl to … tame me. I’ve actually fallen in love, and she, Monroe, likes my hair longer.’ He is bashful telling Gabby this. ‘This is all her doing, I’m afraid.’ He runs his fingers through his hair and grins self-consciously.
‘You’re in love!’ Gabby teases. ‘Oh, Matt. I’m so happy for you. You deserve it.’
She is astonished to find she means these words, that there is not a hint of jealousy in her being, only pleasure that he has found happiness.
‘What’s she like?’
‘Funny. Smart as a whip. No-nonsense. She’s a little like you. And she’s practical – she can make anything, and she’s far better with a screwdriver than I am.’
‘And beautiful, I’m sure.’
‘She does some modelling.’ He shrugs as if to apologize. ‘But enough about me and my love. You said you’ve had a tumultuous year. What does that mean?’
‘Oh God. It’s a very long story. One that needs a drink.’ She smiles. ‘Will you join me?’
‘Martinis at lunchtime? How decadent!’ He grins. ‘I’d forgotten what a good drinking partner you are.’
‘No Martinis for me at the moment. But a weak white-wine spritzer would be lovely.’
They order drinks and chat about the restaurant, the menu, the deliciousness of the dishes that pass them, until there is a pause.
‘You still haven’t told me about the tumultuous year.’
Gabby nods slowly. ‘That’s because I’m not sure where to start.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I separated from my husband.’
Matt’s eyes fill with sympathy and he reaches across the table for her hand. ‘Oh, Gabby. I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you. It’s been devastating. Oh God.’ She starts to laugh, raising her eyes to the ceiling, unable to believe how like a bad movie this is feeling. ‘I just don’t know how to say this, so I’ll come out with it. I had a baby.’
‘Are you serious?’ Matt’s smile contains astonishment and confusion. ‘My God. That was quick! You look amazing.’
‘Matt, my husband had a vasectomy. The baby isn’t his.’
Matt just stares at her, uncomprehending, until the expression on his face conveys that he understands what she is saying, or, rather, what she is saying by saying nothing at all.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Grateful he didn’t ask whether she was sure, Gabby steers the car up Post Road, checking in her rear-view mirror that Matt, in his rental car, is still behind her. She thought about offering him a ride, but she needed some time alone to think about what just happened, so, instead, she quietly suggested leading him back to her house to meet Henry.
She knows now that her mother was absolutely right in advising her to contact Matt. Gabby had been so afraid of having anything to do with him, with this man she had turned into a powerful demonic figure. In her mind he had become the wicked person solely responsible for breaking up her marriage; she was terrified that he would also destroy the new happiness she had found with the baby. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to lose that, to have Henry taken from her.
As she drives she almost laughs with relief that her fears were so way out of proportion.
In all the possible scenarios, never had she imagined him to be so … calm. He was, he said, ‘blown away’, but not unhappily so. ‘A son,’ he kept repeating. ‘A son!’ He was boyishly bewildered, incredulous that he had managed to create another life.
And instinctively Gabby knew he wouldn’t fight her for custody, or try to steal Henry. She had the strong feeling that Matt would play a part in Henry’s life, but that it wouldn’t be a bad thing.
Seeing Matt behind her, concentrating on following her, she has a sudden vision of Henry as a small boy, holding Matt’s hand, splashing in the water and learning to surf.
She is there, watching, as the matriarch. Perhaps his girlfriend will be there too, in the water with them, but she will not be threatened by Gabby. Gabby has no designs on Matt.
Seeing him today, without the rose-coloured glasses of obsession and intoxication she once wore whenever he was around, she is able to enjoy his youthful enthusiasm, his guileless charm.
Quite how they will figure this out, with her on the east coast, him on the west, remains to be seen, but Gabby is curiously content with his reaction, with the knowledge that he wants to be involved.
‘You’re back so soon!’ Her mother’s voice comes from the kit
chen. ‘Henry’s upstairs sleeping. How was it? How did he –’
‘Mum! We’re here. He, Matt, is here.’ Gabby shoots Matt an apologetic grin as she leads him through to the kitchen.
‘Oh!’ Natasha stands up. ‘Gosh. You are tall. I’m Gabby’s mother, Natasha de Roth. How do you do?’ She extends a hand as Matt smiles awkwardly.
‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs de Roth. Are you staying here for long?’
‘Call me Natasha,’ she says. ‘And you don’t have to make small talk with me. Questions like that always make me think of the Queen. Do you know that at her garden parties she’s reported to always ask people, “Have you travelled far?” She asks the same thing over and over again. Can you imagine? I’d rather kill myself. I’d much rather ask someone what’s their favourite car, or what would be their movie-star name.’
‘Nineteen fifty-six Porsche Speedster. George Lazenby.’
‘You can’t have George Lazenby,’ Natasha says, her eyes sparkling with delight. ‘It’s taken.’
‘I know. But you have to admit it’s the perfect name. Most people my age have no idea that there ever was a George Lazenby, so I could easily steal it.’
‘True. And a nineteen fifty-six Porsche Speedster sounds glamorous. And expensive.’
Matt grins. ‘It is. Both.’
‘Okay, you two,’ Gabby says. ‘We’re going to go upstairs. How long has Henry been asleep?’
‘Almost two hours. Go on up.’
Gabby motions for Matt to lead the way through the door, but her mother grabs her arm and pulls her back to whisper furiously in her ear, ‘He’s adorable!’
Gabby just smiles and shakes her head, detaching herself, then she and Matt go upstairs.
‘I’m so scared I’ll drop him.’ Matt has a look of terror on his face when Gabby offers him Henry.
‘You’ll be fine.’ She shows him how to support the baby’s head, then sits down next to him on the bed as they both gaze at their son.