by Amanda James
‘Absolutely. That’s why I picked them.’ He sits on a high stool and drums his fingers on the counter. ‘And… and so you’re saying that you want us to work?’
I’m about to hedge – I hadn’t really thought about what I meant when I said the future bit – but then I look at the flowers and say, ‘I think so, yes. But we should definitely have a good discussion about things and I’m certainly not going to rush it.’
‘Oh, that is such good news! I haven’t really allowed myself to hope that you might take me back—’ He stops when he sees my frowny expression. ‘Sorry, yes, of course. We shouldn’t run before we can walk.’
Despite myself, I have to bite back a giggle when I turn to the oven to take out the scones. He looked like a little kid that had been told he could go to Disneyland or some other horrific fun park when I said I wanted it to work. At least I know what I want now, even if I didn’t know it until the words were out of my mouth. I had guessed that’s where I was headed after the discussion I’d had last night with Louisa, but it still felt a bit odd hearing it out loud.
‘Wow – have you just made those?’ Caleb asks, nodding at the scones I’m putting on a cooling rack.
‘No, Caleb. I don’t know how they got in my oven… must be magic.’ I wink at him.
He does the twisty thing with his mouth that tells me he’s unsure about what he’s going to say. ‘Lottie, you look absolutely gorgeous. I can hardly take my eyes off you.’
To add emphasis to his words his eyes sweep up my legs, which I know are toned and tanned from the holiday and come to rest on my breasts. He shakes his head and draws his hands down his face. ‘God, I’m sorry,’ he groans through his fingers. ‘I’m messing it up already. But you said be honest and it’s been so long since I saw you, my mind is in overdrive.’
I’m having similar feelings, but I can’t tell him that, or I know we’ll be in bed before the butter has melted on the scones. I’ll have to be the tough one. Talking is crucial if we are to move forward. ‘Thanks for the compliment, but let’s have coffee and scones and talk things through. Shall we sit on the balcony or is it windy…’
‘Out?’ he says and pulls a silly face.
It isn’t really windy out, just a bit of a puff now and then as if the clouds are doing deep-breathing exercises. I have stopped doing mine now because my adrenaline levels are back to normal and Caleb and I are chatting as easily as if we saw each other only yesterday. I have told him all about the meeting I had with James and my mother’s apology, such as it was. I have eaten two scones and Caleb is on his third.
‘I’m glad that things seem to be working out. James is a nice guy, isn’t he?’ Caleb says, though I can tell he is choosing every word very carefully. It must be hard for him not to say that if it hadn’t been for Caleb, brother and sister would still be poles apart.
‘He is. And I know you meant well by meeting him in secret, but that kind of thing can’t happen again. I can’t cope with it.’
‘Yes, I know, and I promise it won’t. I was a bloody fool – thought I knew best, but it was only because I wanted you to be happy.’ Caleb looks at me and wipes scone crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I do love you, you know, Lottie.’
Oh dear. This wasn’t supposed to happen; he isn’t supposed to say things like that while we’re having a serious talk about everything. I look away and into my cup as if there might be the right response at the bottom of it. I must admit, though, hearing Caleb say those words did make my heart do a bit of a jump. This heart jumping isn’t unpleasant either, as it goes.
‘There I go again. I’ve made you feel uncomfortable… sorry.’
‘No, I’m not uncomfortable with it. It’s quite nice to hear if I’m honest, and that’s what we are being, aren’t we? I won’t say the same back to you though because I’m still not quite certain about all of it. I do have very strong feelings for you, of course.’
Caleb’s voice is a bit wobbly as he says, ‘That is so much more than I deserve. I didn’t mean to, but as you said at the time, I did betray you. And I have thought since about why what I did was such a big thing for you.’
I drain my cup and put my feet up on the balcony rail and wiggle my toes. The nails are almost the same colour as the sky. Cerulean, or is it more cobalt? I realise that this is thought-procrastination and say, ‘Okay, I’m listening.’
Caleb clears his throat and puts his feet up next to mine. He’s wearing brown trainers and they look like two huge pasties silhouetted against the sky. ‘Okay. The betrayal thing runs very deep with you. Before the big fat secret revelation you loved your mother. I know, by the calico cat day she was beginning to get on your nerves a bit, and that prompted a rebellion, but nothing that most kids don’t experience with parents.’ He looks at me and I give him a quick nod to let him know this is pretty accurate.
‘But then after the BFS revelation and the subsequent way she belittled you, made you feel worthless with all the vile things she said, presented you with a brother you had never met, a brother that was held up to be perfect, the chosen one – you felt horribly betrayed. You loved her, and she took that love and stamped all over it.’
I feel his eyes on me but I’m looking at my toenails again and trying hard to focus on whether they are darker or lighter than the ocean, but the light keeps changing making it hard for me to decide… but I’m not trying to decide that at all, really. It’s like those thoughts are a trailer for the main film that Caleb is projecting, but I have changed my mind about wanting to watch it.
I can’t look at him, say anything, so just nod again, but that action tips a stream of hot tears onto my cheeks so I quickly pull my long hair to the side and comb my fingers through it. I don’t think he can see my face at all, now.
‘So, when I betrayed you, you couldn’t live with it – it brought everything back.’ Through a gap in my hair I watch Caleb take his feet down and lean forward, elbows on his knees. ‘Of course, my betrayal wasn’t the same – I’m not saying you loved me. But you did care about me and I went behind your back involving the same person that had made such a huge impact on your life all those years ago. When I think about it all now I feel so stupid. Unutterably so.’
He’s talking as if he’s in a period drama again. He does that from time to time and no matter how serious the situation, it makes me want to laugh. I wipe my cheeks behind my hair curtain and flick it back over my shoulders. I say in a breathy little voice, ‘Unutterably? Why, Mr Darcy. I am quite undone by the use of such an elegant and unusual word.’
Caleb looks at me from under a deeply furrowed brow. ‘I’m being serious. Am I close with my explanations about why you felt so upset at the time?’
Too late, I realise that flippancy has no place here, even if it did help me recover my composure. ‘Yes, you are. In fact, it’s more or less the conclusion I came to myself.’ I want to change the subject, go for a walk or something, anything to stop my deepest emotions bleeding out into the warm afternoon. But then I remember the honesty thing and heave a sigh. ‘Okay, Caleb. I’m going to just open my mouth and see what comes out. These thoughts have been milling around in my head for weeks anyway as if they’re a wind turbine in a force ten.’
Caleb takes my hand and kisses the back of it. His lips are soft and warm, and I take comfort from the strength of his hand. ‘Take your time, Lottie.’
‘As I said, you were correct about back then and why what you did hurt so much. However, I have been thinking about feelings and love and what it actually is quite a bit recently. Louisa helped me with it, too. Love is very tricky to define, and, in the end, I guess you could say it’s indefinable – it’s something you just feel for a person or you don’t. It’s a bit like faith, isn’t it? Believers have said similar things about that to me – it’s something they have in their hearts but can’t define it – you just believe in God, or you don’t. So anyway, I can honestly say now that I don’t love Mother. I think the reason is that she’s not very impor
tant to me anymore. I don’t need her approval, advice, help or love.’ I pause and give Caleb a little smile. ‘I don’t need her for anything.’
‘That’s pretty succinct for you just opening your mouth and seeing what comes out,’ he says, and kisses my hand again.
‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ I must admit talking about it like this is helping to finally pull my scattered thoughts into cohesion. ‘Since we set off on the holiday, and after, I’ve been thinking more than usual – and that’s saying a lot for me. I told you about my turning points, remember?’ He nods. ‘Well, I think I had a third on the walk. That’s why I’m able to say what I said about Mother and the way I think about my past now. I worked lots of it out before, with Gwendoline’s help of course, and since then with you, the people we met on the walk, and the wonderful Louisa.’
‘She certainly has made an impression on you. Seems a lovely lady,’ Caleb says.
‘Oh, she is. And you must meet her soon – you’ll get on so well.’ I can hardly believe the two people that I care about most have never met. ‘Mind you, she can wax a bit lyrical from time to time. The other day she said that going on the walking holiday was a journey of self-discovery for me, a coming of age. Talk about a cliché – and I’m twenty-eight for goodness sake.’
Caleb bites the inside of his cheek and looks at a seagull hanging in the sky above us. ‘I think she’s right. Perhaps the definition is too narrow. I don’t think it matters how old you are – if you don’t feel like a whole person, comfortable with being you until much later in life, then you can come of age at any time. Perhaps some people never do. And the journey of self-discovery on the walk – yes, I can see that, too.’
I think Caleb is almost as wise as Louisa at this moment and I want lean across and kiss him. I know where that will lead though and for now I need to take things slowly. I can’t tell you why… okay, I can. It’s because I want to be in control of the situation. If we sleep together I will have given in too quickly. I can forgive him but not immediately. I have accepted my past, am less angry about it, come of age or whatever, but that doesn’t mean I have completely changed who I am. I still like to be in control, be different, speak my mind, stand up and be counted.
To Caleb I say, ‘Now you put it like that I can see it, too. I have some wine in the fridge, would you like some?’
He would, and I stand up and open the sliding door from the balcony to the apartment. Just before I go inside, Caleb says, ‘So if you don’t love your mother and all the stuff you said about not needing anything from her, why are you considering a family get-together?’
I consider that for a few moments. ‘I suppose it’s purely for selfish reasons. I do want a relationship with my brother and his family, and if I try to forgive Mother and be nice to her, I suppose it will help me move forward without the resentfulness and hatey bits hanging over my head.’
Caleb smiles. ‘Yes, I get that – and you’re not selfish.’
‘No. I’m a kind, mature, magnanimous person, don’t you know?’ I say in a voice like the Queen’s. He laughs, and I join in, then I say, ‘I can rise above the person she was and still is to an extent. She was probably damaged by giving up James, but whether she was a Grade A bitch before that, I will never know with absolute certainty. Gwendoline had her reservations, as I told you. Left nothing to her in the will.’
I am just about to bring the wine out when Caleb comes in and stands in front of The Calico Cat. ‘Hey, this is… just fantastic! You’ve really changed your style since the holiday, haven’t you?’ He crouches down to look at the other paintings against the wall: the Dragon Cave and the ones of Louisa’s vineyard.
I take a mouthful of wine. ‘Are you trying to say my painting was pants before the holiday then, Caleb?’
He whips round, mouth open, and then catches the amusement in my eyes. ‘Of course not. But I do have to say that these are nothing short of outstanding.’ He holds the vineyard one at arm’s length. ‘Almost impressionist in style, but then I’m far from an expert.’
I smile. ‘That’s exactly what Louisa said.’ I hand him his glass and he stands up and clinks it against mine.
‘Here’s to a successful career and may your studio never be empty of admirers.’
‘Thank you. I still have to find a name for it. Nothing seems right.’ I walk over to the sofa and sit down.
Caleb takes a swallow of wine, pushes his hand through his hair and looks at the ceiling as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. Eventually he says, ‘I have a suggestion that would be perfect, I think.’
‘Let’s hear it, then.’
He sits by me and points his wine glass at the easel. ‘The Calico Cat.’
I look at the painting and into the cat’s eyes. The cat thinks it’s a brilliant idea and strangely so do I. It feels right to me, though I don’t know why it should. ‘Why is it perfect?’
‘Because the cat is you.’ He shakes his head when I frown. ‘No, of course you’re not a cat, or a painting. You chose to paint this cat to remind you of your first turning point, but also to represent who you are. A metaphor if you will. Remember that time in Bustopher Jones when you told me that you liked calico cats because they were different? They were neither one thing or the other. Not black, white, Siamese, and so forth. You said that most people don’t choose to have them as pets because they like order – things in boxes, pigeon holes, compartments. They like their cats symmetrical, neat. You don’t.’
My goodness, he listened well. I can’t even recall saying some of it. ‘Yes, I remember most of that. And it’s all true. If I were a cat, I’d be calico.’
‘There you are, then. The decision to paint and open a studio is intertwined with your second turning point, and the cat is an essential part of your first. The two things should go together.’
A big wave of something is crashing about in my chest. It feels like happiness and certainty and relief all at the same time. Caleb looks into my eyes and I can tell he’s unsure that he’s said the right thing, so even though I know I shouldn’t, I put my glass down and kiss him full on the mouth.
‘Wow,’ he says when we come up for air. ‘You like that suggestion, then?’
‘It is totally and unutterably perfect.’ I cup his face and give him a few more pecks. ‘And you are part of my third turning point, even though I didn’t think you were to start with. You influenced my acceptance of the past and were the impetus behind me meeting James.’ I slap his cheek playfully. ‘Even though you came at that from the wrong angle.’
Caleb rubs his cheek and pretends to cry until I lift my hand to do it again, so he stops and does the dog grin. ‘Does this mean I have to be painted and put in your studio?’
‘Yes, of course.’ I look at him, my head on one side. I can picture him in all sorts of settings, but disconcertingly my mind keeps presenting him naked on a secluded beach… He’s looking at me with lust in his eyes and I move towards him. ‘A nice background for that might be Louisa’s vineyard. We could go there soon and kill two birds.’ I stand up and take my empty glass to the sink for no other reason than to put some distance between us.
‘Suits me. We should go soon, though – there’s only a week or so before I start back at school.’
Poor Caleb. He doesn’t look overjoyed at that prospect. I think he’s overdue for a turning point of his own but decide to keep that idea floating about in the lesser-used parts of my mind. There’s enough to think about for now. ‘Yes, okay. We’ll arrange something soon. And now, my dear man, I must ask you to leave. I have a very important painting to finish.’
He looks a bit disappointed but covers it with a smile. ‘Of course. Will I see you soon?’
‘Yes. How does tomorrow sound?’
‘It sounds pretty good to me.’
I walk him to the door and we kiss. I rest my forehead on the door after he’s gone and think that this not getting close too quickly idea of mine isn’t going to work beyond the first few minutes of
him coming round here in the morning. I then realise that if I’m the one to take the lead, be in control, it will be fine, and I shouldn’t worry too much about it. Not now we have a perfect understanding.
At the easel a few minutes later, I give the cat her whiskers and start on the flowers in the foreground. By the end of the day the painting is complete, and I stand back and admire it. It suddenly occurs to me why I haven’t finished her until now. It’s because if she is me in the way Caleb suggests, I had to feel complete in myself before I could do the same for her. Then I wonder if that might be pushing the idea a bit too far, you know, romanticising everything?
The calico cat says she’s not certain, and to be honest it doesn’t matter. Her main concern is that she’s bloody finished at last. I agree and wander off to clean my brushes. What I need is a quiet evening watching mindless TV to give my brain a rest. Absolutely no over-thinking is going to be allowed.
25
Friends and Family
Louisa and Caleb took to each other like ducks to water. This wasn’t a surprise to me, but nevertheless, there had been a little grain of doubt in my mind trying to grow itself into a wheat field. I always like to have grains of doubt, or perhaps smidgens – because they don’t sound as if they can grow into anything very much, do they? Anyway, the reason I do this is if one just breezes through thinking that everything is going to be wonderful and then it isn’t, one gets a big kick in the guts, but a smidgen of doubt makes sure that kick has less of an impact.
We had a lovely three days at the vineyard where I spent most of the daylight hours painting and most of the evenings out on the terrace eating, drinking and talking to my two favourite people. Then, later, Caleb and I spent until the early hours in bed, making up for lost time. Before you ask, I was the one to initiate this activity and feel very much in control of how our relationship is developing, so that’s just fine.