Jude, for his part, was so into Scott that I feared he might have a crush on him. They wrestled and climbed and ran around fields together. They were all-but-uninterruptible at the dinner table, too. So I honestly thought back then that Jude might turn out to be gay. Though that of itself wouldn’t have posed the slightest problem for me, his having a crush on my boyfriend could have been extremely challenging to deal with. So it came as something of a relief when that turned out not to be the case.
As far as Ian was concerned, neither Zoe nor Jude were really massaging his ego back then. As that was always the one thing Ian needed from the people around him, he chose the easy path. He chose Linda’s life instead.
She was a yoga teacher, rumour had it. And according to Jude, the whole family did yoga together on Sunday mornings in the garden. It was an easy enough choice to make, I suppose. If it had been possible, I probably would have moved in and done a spot of yoga myself.
The yoga-teacher thing got to me a little, I’ll admit. I couldn’t help but imagine her sylph-like figure. I couldn’t help but think about the athletic positions she’d be getting into for Ian of an evening, too. I could picture with shocking ease how they’d be working their way through the entire Kama Sutra.
But then I’d roll over and look at the bearded beauty sleeping beside me, and convince myself that it didn’t matter. Whatever she looked like, she’d ended up with Ian while I’d ended up with my toy boy. I knew who’d drawn the short straw there, and it certainly wasn’t me!
A few months later I caught sight of them in town. I was coming out of Morrisons while they were heading in, Linda’s little girls trailing sweetly behind them like a row of ducklings. I felt a spike of vicious, selfish joy at the sight of her. Because Linda, sweet Linda, was big. She was a seriously overweight yoga teacher! Who even knew such a thing existed?
Zoe discovered Quorn sausages around then and decided that she liked sausage sandwiches. She wasn’t eating anything else, so it obviously wasn’t ideal, but just the fact that she wanted to eat anything was such a relief I decided to go along with it.
Every evening, I’d cook a healthy meal for the three of us, and Zoe would make her sandwich: two slices of bread, two Quorn sausages, margarine (not butter!) and tomato ketchup. This she’d take up to her room, where she’d eat alone.
I tried, once or twice, to force the issue of us at least eating in the same room, but when I did she silently protested by eating nothing. Better that she eat alone in her room, we all agreed, than that she ruin everyone’s mealtime by not eating anything at all.
So we settled into a kind of routine, for a while. Zoe wasn’t actually with us, but at least I knew she was safe upstairs, doing whatever teenagers do on her iPad. It felt almost like normal family life.
It was on one of these evenings, the three of us eating pizza in front of Doctor Who while Zoe ate her hundredth Quorn sandwich in her room, that Jude suggested a trip to the seaside. It was the August bank holiday weekend, after all. It would be fun, he said.
‘What about Zoe?’ Scott asked.
‘Oh, Zoe will be up for the beach,’ Jude said.
I laughed. ‘You can’t really believe that,’ I told him.
So Jude ran to the bottom of the stairs and shouted up to his sister, ‘Zoe? Zo! Zoeeee! How do you fancy a trip to the beach?’
There was a pause during which I think we were all holding our breath. And then Zoe’s bedroom door creaked open. This alone was unexpected.
‘You what?’ Zoe called down.
‘Do you want to go to the beach?’ Jude asked again. ‘I’m trying to convince ’em to take us.’
‘Trying to convince who to take us?’ Zoe asked.
‘Well, Mum and Scott, of course.’
‘Humph,’ Zoe said. Then, ‘Which beach? Where?’
‘I dunno,’ Jude said, then, turning to face us, he asked, ‘Where would we go?’
‘Blackpool, maybe?’ I suggested. From Buxton it was the obvious choice. But Scott was already pulling a face.
‘There’s, like, an amusement park in Blackpool, right?’ Zoe said, deigning to descend three steps and actually peer over the banisters at us.
‘You see!’ Jude said, triumphantly. ‘Zoe wants to go, too.’
‘I haven’t said yes yet,’ Zoe informed him. But it was clear from the simple fact of her engagement in the conversation that he’d struck lucky.
Scott had – a detail I’d forgotten – briefly lived in Blackpool as a child. As he didn’t seem to have particularly fond memories of the place, we booked a bed and breakfast in Morecambe Bay instead – promising to take the kids to Blackpool Pleasure Beach on the way up.
We left about ten the next morning, all piling into Scott’s old Toyota. Zoe ate breakfast for once – two sausages and a piece of toast, and packed her own bag without complaint.
At one point, as we were loading the bags into the car, Scott nudged me and nodded back towards the house. ‘What’s going on with that one?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I whispered. ‘But I’m not complaining . . . We can go to the seaside every weekend if she’s like this. Hell, we can move to the bloody seaside.’
The traffic was heavy, but not unbearable. Only the final section from the motorway to the seafront was horrific, taking forty minutes rather than the ten predicted by Scott’s GPS. But it was a beautiful day with a wispy blue sky, so we rolled down the windows and stared at the other participants in the traffic jam, who’d clearly all had the same idea as us.
We finally found a parking space in a tatty little side road behind the Pleasure Beach. I’d wanted to get lunch first, but as the kids were gagging for the funfair, I simply made them promise to eat something once inside.
We queued for half an hour to pay and then we queued for another fifteen minutes to get in.
Once inside, Scott bought everyone bags of chips. Well, everyone except for Zoe, that is. But even Zoe accepted the idea of a veggie burger. She dumped the actual burger in a bin pretty quickly, but ate all of the bun. Such things were considered major victories at the time.
The queues for the rides were horrendous, so we quickly began to split up so we could avoid queueing for rides that didn’t interest us personally.
Jude wanted to go on every single roller coaster, while Zoe seemed drawn by anything that would spin her around or drop her from a height.
Personally, anything circular makes me sick, but I’m also scared witless of roller coasters, so I tend more towards sticking whoever is in my charge on a ride and then waiting by the exit.
While Scott took Jude on the Big Dipper, I waited for Zoe to be dropped from a platform two hundred feet high. Then while Scott took Jude on the Big One, I photographed Zoe spinning crazily across the summer sky on a ride called Bling. Where most of her fellow riders stepped off Bling looking quite green, Zoe, most unusually, was grinning from ear to ear. I had rarely seen her so happy.
Once Jude had sampled the Big One he didn’t want to go on anything else. But Scott, who’d jarred his neck on one of the bends, wasn’t so keen to repeat the experience.
Jude begged and begged both Zoe and me to take him back on the ride, and in the end I gave in. By the time we reached the final zigzag of the queue, however, I’d broken out in a sweat. The carriages thundering overhead and the screams of the passengers had pushed me to the edge of a panic attack. And so, wimpy mother that I am, I got a woman who was queueing alone behind us to take my place.
‘You will look after him?’ I made her promise.
‘Of course!’ she said. ‘It’s going to be great, isn’t it?’
Jude rolled his eyes at this. ‘You’re such a wuss, Mum,’ he told me as I threaded my way back out of the queue.
As Scott and Zoe were on the Wild Mouse, an ancient wooden roller coaster that scared me because of how rickety it seemed more than anything else, I wandered through the crowds, letting my nerves settle back down and thinking about what an amazing success the day was turning out to be. Afte
r all, Zoe, recalcitrant, moody Zoe, was currently crushed into a Wild Mouse with Scott, my beloved. Perhaps, I dreamed, they’d even start getting on together.
I was standing at one end of the ride, peering up at the mice rolling overhead and trying to spot Zoe and Scott, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see Ian grinning at me.
‘Hello, stranger!’ he said. ‘This is a coincidence!’
‘It is!’ I laughed. I glanced up at the ride to check that neither Zoe nor Scott were watching, and then stepped a little further into the shade of the hot-dog stall before leaning forward to accept Ian’s peck on the cheek.
I’d hardly seen anything of him for months, and, strange as it may seem, I’d been missing him. I suppose we’d lived together for thirteen years, after all. Plus, he’ll always be the father of my children, no matter what happens.
‘You’re here with the kids, I take it?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Scott’s here, too. We thought what with the bank holiday and everything . . .’
‘Great minds think alike,’ Ian said. ‘How’s Zoe doing?’
‘Actually, today she’s fine,’ I said. ‘It’s most unusual, but today is a good day.’
‘And they’re where?’ Ian asked, scanning our surroundings.
‘Oh, Zoe’s up there somewhere,’ I said, pointing. ‘And Jude’s on the Big One for the second time. I think he’s going to spend the whole day on it, to be honest. And your lot?’
Ian nodded vaguely into the distance. ‘Queueing for the loo,’ he said. ‘My mission is to buy hot dogs.’ I wrinkled my nose at this, prompting Ian to continue, ‘I know, I know . . .’ He was familiar with my distrust of the unidentifiable ingredients of hot dogs. ‘But Linda’s kids love ’em, so, what-ya-gonna-do?’
I shrugged. ‘At least they eat, I suppose,’ I said. ‘Look, I’d better be getting back to Jude. He’ll be finishing soon. Unless you wanted to see them?’
‘Better not,’ Ian said. ‘It would only make everyone jealous of everyone else. I mean, if we bump into each other again, then, well, that’s unavoidable. But I don’t think I want to go out of my way to make it happen.’
‘I agree, actually,’ I said. I’d been imagining how Zoe and Jude would feel if they saw their father out with his new family.
‘Well, that’s a turn-up for the books,’ Ian said. ‘Us agreeing!’
‘Like I said,’ I told him, turning my face towards the sunshine. ‘Today is a good day.’
‘You look well,’ Ian said, surprising me by taking hold of my hand and giving my fingers a gentle squeeze.
‘Why, thank you,’ I said. ‘So do you.’ And it was true. Ian was looking tanned and slim and well dressed. I could almost remember why I’d fallen for him all those years ago.
‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘About everything. I just wanted you to know that.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I knew that, deep down, I suppose.’
‘And I’m sorry we fell out about Zoe,’ he continued. ‘We might actually be moving if we can just find a place that suits everyone. So maybe I could have her more often, after all. If you still want me to, that is.’
‘If Zoe still wants it, more like.’ I glanced at my wrist, even though I wasn’t wearing a watch. ‘I really do need to get back to the Big One,’ I said.
‘Sure,’ Ian replied, releasing my hand and smiling sadly at me. He opened his arms, inviting an embrace and said, ‘May I?’
I hesitated for a second, then, thinking, Oh, why spoil the moment?, I replied, ‘Sure,’ and let him crush me in his arms.
‘You are great, you know,’ Ian said, leaning back just far enough to look me in the eye. ‘I don’t think I ever told you that enough, but you are.’
‘I don’t think you ever told me that at all.’ I started to lever myself from his hug. ‘But thank you. Better late than never,’ I added with a fake laugh designed to cover my embarrassment. I’d noticed his eyes were looking shiny and had decided our ‘moment’ had reached its sell-by date.
‘Right then!’ Ian said. And then he lurched at me and kissed me on the lips. I was so surprised I didn’t respond at all. ‘Right,’ he said again. ‘Better go!’ And then he turned on one foot and strode away into the crowd.
‘Well, that was intense,’ I murmured to myself.
Fearing that Ian would remember his mission to buy hot dogs and return, I also strode away, but in the opposite direction.
By the time I reached the Big One, Jude had already rejoined the queue. ‘Mum!’ he called out, once he’d spotted me behind the barrier. ‘I thought I’d lost you! I couldn’t decide what to do, so I thought I’d just queue up again.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I called back, walking closer. ‘I got held up.’
‘Held up with what?’ he asked, when I reached him.
‘Um? Oh, the toilets,’ I lied. ‘There was a queue.’
‘So is this OK?’ Jude asked. ‘Can I go again?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘If you’re sure you don’t want to try something else?’
‘I’m sure,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s awesome.’
‘Then I’ll meet you at the Wild Mouse after, OK? That’s where Scott and Zoe are.’
‘OK,’ he said, happily. ‘See you there.’
When I returned to the Wild Mouse, only Scott was waiting, looking anxious.
‘Zoe’s not with you?’ he asked, immediately.
‘No!’ I said. ‘I thought she was with you.’
‘Well, she was,’ Scott said. ‘But when we got off the ride she stomped off. You know what she’s like. I was hoping she’d come to find you.’
‘I’ll call her,’ I said, pulling my phone from my handbag.
‘I’ve tried,’ Scott said. ‘But her phone’s switched off.’
Six
Jude
By ten past nine, we’re out of our lodgings, keys dropped off, and we’re heading towards the motorway. It’s a sunny morning, but cold enough that I’ve had to scrape the frost off the windscreen before moving the car.
Jess fiddles with the radio as I drive, but as everyone’s talking about Brexit, and because after weeks and weeks of no progress whatsoever that’s not the most interesting thing to listen to, even for Jess, she eventually gives up and plugs her phone in. She chooses the new My Baby album, which I love, and I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I drive and feel that all’s right with the world.
‘Maybe we can have the top down later,’ Jess says. ‘It’s lovely and sunny today.’
I point at the dashboard, where the temperature reading is -4°.
‘Have you ever noticed how -4° looks like a man having a poo?’ Jess asks.
I shoot her a grin. ‘Yeah, I saw that somewhere online,’ I say. ‘On Instagram, I think. Or Facebook.’
‘Anyway, you’ve got a scarf, haven’t you? I’ve got my bobble hat. It’ll be fine.’
‘We’ll see,’ I tell her. ‘Maybe when we get to Blackpool.’
‘Well, we have to open it at some point,’ Jess says. ‘I’ve always wanted to drive an open-top car.’
I wonder what kind of driver she is. She has never yet driven me anywhere.
We chat about Bristol for a while, laughing again at my nine-quid grilled sardine and Jessica’s micro-gnocchi before settling into a comfortable silence.
I alternate between listening to the music, basically singing along (in my head – I have a terrible singing voice), and daydreaming, running the events of the last twenty-four hours across the cinema screen in my mind.
I think about the fact that, somewhat ironically, we’ve solved my most recent panic attack not by separating, but by moving as close as two human bodies can possibly get. I wonder if it’s perhaps like homeopathy or something, where whatever makes you ill supposedly also makes you better. I wonder if it will work every time and how much sex that might involve and start to feel horny, and so try to think about other things instead.
Once the car has warmed up, Jess
puts her feet up on the dashboard. She’s wearing green plimsolls today, along with a black-and-white striped jersey dress featuring a red velvet bleeding heart that she has sewn on herself, and red-and-white polka-dot leggings. I wonder if Blackpool’s ready for her. Personally, knowing what the town is like, I’m glad I chose to dress down again.
Jess catches me looking over at her and smiles briefly before turning her attention back to the side window, but not without resting one hand on my leg. It feels nice in this car, I think. What with the music and the heater and, yes, with Jess, it feels cosy and warm and somehow safe.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Jess asks, out of the blue. We’ve been driving for about forty minutes and the My Baby album has just ended.
I laugh. ‘I was thinking about Worcestershire sauce,’ I tell her honestly.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, I was thinking about how you never see it any more. Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce.’
‘Any particular reason?’ Jess asks. ‘I actually hate Worcestershire sauce.’
I point to a sign we’re passing. It reads, ‘Worcester 11. Birmingham 60. Manchester 120.’
‘Ahh, right!’ Jess says. ‘Do you think they really make it there?’
‘You know, I have no idea,’ I say.
We drive for ten more minutes and then I ask Jess the same question.
‘Um, if you really want to know, I was thinking about Zoe,’ she replies.
‘Any reason in particular?’
‘I’m not sure if . . .’ Jess starts, before pausing and starting again. ‘Actually, I was wondering what went wrong with her. I mean, you’re one of the most together people I know, so . . .’
‘Me?’ I say, pulling a face. I don’t feel particularly together.
‘Yeah, you. You’re so together you’re like, I don’t know what.’
‘Nice simile.’
‘I know. I’m good at similes. But, I mean, you grew up together, so what was different for Zoe? Of course, if you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I’m just thinking about the whole nature/nurture thing.’
‘Right,’ I say, thoughtfully. ‘No, I don’t think I mind.’
The Road to Zoe Page 9