by Jane Green
And Maggie, who was ever so slightly competitive in the field of cooking (and when did Evvie learn to cook so well, for Maggie was always the only cook in the house), had been making decadent cakes and buttermilk scones for tea, and homemade chocolate Florentines with lacy bottoms and thick chocolate tops.
“My God,” Topher said the other day, polishing off three scones heaped with strawberry jam and clotted cream. “We’re all going to weigh four hundred pounds if you keep feeding us like this.”
“I can’t help it,” said Maggie. “I’m just so happy to have people to cook for again. You don’t understand. I haven’t cooked for anyone since Ben died.”
“What did you eat when you were by yourself?” Evvie had asked.
Maggie shrugged. “Whatever was in the fridge. Sometimes I picked up soup. I ate a lot of toast. Cooking for one isn’t much fun, and most of the time I forgot to eat.”
“No wonder you’re so thin,” said Evvie. “I don’t think I’ve ever forgotten to eat in my life. That’s why I’ve got my lovely big belly.” She stuck it out.
“We love your big belly,” said Topher, who had been slapping Evvie’s hand every time she moaned about her weight, telling her to embrace herself, reminding her endlessly that she was gorgeous, curvy, and sexy, and telling her she needed to let go of her former skinny self. “It’s feminine.”
“That’s definitely true. I’d make a great fertility symbol.” Evvie pouted and posed as Topher shook his head.
“No more putting yourself down, Evvie.”
“Doing my best,” she said.
“Meanwhile,” said Maggie. “Why am I the only one getting a hard time about cooking delicious food? Those American breakfasts of Evvie’s are insane. I’m sure that’s why I’m putting on weight.”
“Don’t blame me,” said Evvie. “That’s only on weekends. You’re making something delicious for tea every day. Can’t we just have a cup of tea with no food?”
“I can’t do that.” Maggie feigned shock. “You can’t have a cup of tea without biscuits, at the very least. It’s against the law over here.”
“You know what you two should do? You should open a café together.”
Maggie and Evvie both turned to look at him in delight. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” they both said at exactly the same time before they started laughing.
“Can you imagine?” said Evvie. “We’d have so much fun!”
“It would be a crazy amount of work but I’d love it. We could specialize in breakfast and tea!” said Maggie.
“I think you should explore this.” Topher pointed his spoon at them. “I’m serious. It would be amazing.”
“We should explore it.”
“But not rush it. Let’s wait for the perfect place to come up, then we’ll strike!”
“Let me help you find the place. God knows there’s nothing else keeping this gay man busy. Not that I’m complaining, but where are all the gays? I haven’t met anyone since I’ve been here.”
“That’s probably because you’ve been with us the whole time,” said Maggie. “I’m pretty sure there’s an active gay community in Bath. There has to be, surely? We should Google.”
“I’m with all the people I want to be with right now.”
Maggie had sat there smiling, feeling her heart burst with love for her old friends, for her good fortune in going to the reunion, for her better fortune in picking the kind of friends that would remain true, and real, and lasting, after all these years.
In the kitchen, Maggie now sighed as she picked up the cereal bowls and mugs and put them in the dishwasher, turning as she heard footsteps and heard someone coming down the stairs.
Topher strode into the kitchen, not in jeans and a casual sweater, as he had been wearing ever since he arrived, but in full head-to-toe English country gentleman regalia.
“Are you auditioning for Downton Abbey?” asked Maggie, laughing as she put the kettle on.
“Oh, I wish,” he said, taking his phone and sliding it in a drawer as Maggie watched him.
“I just can’t anymore,” he explained. “I’m still Googling myself and I can’t stand it. I haven’t got the willpower to stay off-line, and every time I go on, I discover something else terrible that’s been written about me. I’m going off-line, and the only way I can do it is to leave my phone behind.”
“I thought everyone had forgotten about it. It’s been weeks!”
Topher shrugged. As excited as he was to be with his old friends again, to be in Somerset, to try his hand at communal living, he was still dealing with the shame of his exposure. Evvie was right, another story had broken days later, and he had been mostly forgotten (which he knew from trawling online), but when he thought about it, he felt a shudder of shame.
Terrible things had been written about him, with ghastly one-night stands coming out of the woodwork revealing that they always knew he was a liar. Most of those stories were written by people Topher couldn’t even remember.
And then there were the comments. The comments! The comments that felt like someone was stabbing him in the back. Vicious and vindictive, written by anonymous people who didn’t know Topher, but wrote as if they did. They described him as a liar, unscrupulous, someone who was ruthlessly ambitious, who would do anything to get ahead.
Topher wanted to respond, even considered creating false identities who would defend him, for so much of what he was reading was patently false, patently rubbish. But he didn’t, trying to remind himself that they weren’t people who knew him, that he ought to ignore them.
It had blown over now, but he still Googled multiple times a day.
“Would you want to act in something like Downton Abbey?” Maggie mused. “I thought you had retired from acting.”
“I have, but a sexy butler could bring me back.”
“Where did all that tweed come from?” Maggie said, eyeing him up and down. “And a Barbour and Hunter wellies too. Blimey. You really do look like you’ve stepped out of Hunting and Fishing dot com.”
“Is that an actual website?”
“I have no idea,” said Maggie. “But if it isn’t, it could be. At least you don’t have a flat cap.”
“I wasn’t going to put it on until I got outside,” said Topher, brandishing a cap from the pocket of his Barbour. “Too much?”
“Too bloody much!” yelped Maggie, giggling, pretending to peer around him. “You don’t have a lurcher hiding anywhere, do you?” said Maggie.
“A what?”
“Dog. Country dog. Good hunters. It would accessorize that outfit perfectly.”
His face lit up. “We actually should get a dog.”
Evvie walked into the room. “Dog? Did someone say something about getting a dog? Can we be trusted with a dog?” asked Evvie. “Remember Colin the cat?”
“Colin the cat!” Maggie broke into peals of laughter. “I haven’t even thought about Colin the cat for about a hundred years. What ever happened to him?”
“He went missing. That’s the point. Maybe we’re not responsible animal owners, although I have always wanted a dog. Mind you, if Colin could have talked, I bet he would have told people not to let us have animals.”
“I disagree,” said Topher, reaching over and taking a bite out of one of Maggie’s slices of toast.
“Hey,” she said, “make your own.” Nobody had eaten her food since she was married. She remembered how Ben always had terrible food envy. Whenever they went out to eat, their food would arrive and Ben always wanted what Maggie had. He always reached over to take the first bite off her plate, and would have done exactly what Topher just did, reached over and helped himself. And she hated it. She would shout at Ben all the time for doing what Topher just did, but it didn’t bother her in the slightest when Topher did it, even though she pretended it did. If anything, these small acts helped foste
r the intimacy they all once had.
“I don’t want my own,” groaned Topher. “Other people’s food always tastes better. The point being, Colin the cat hated us. He hated me, at any rate. He never wanted anyone to touch him. Whose idea was it anyway to rescue a cat?”
“We didn’t rescue him,” said Evvie. “If I remember correctly, Colin attached himself to Maggie.”
Maggie shrugged. “I remember him being lovely. We had dogs here years ago. I love the idea of a dog but what if . . .” She stopped. What if it all went wrong? was what she was going to say. Could she be the only one who was even thinking that? Everyone else seemed blissfully happy, and it wasn’t that she wasn’t, but that she still couldn’t quite believe this was going to be permanent. The last month or so had felt like an extended holiday, without the sand and sea. And sun. And someone else making the beds every day. Obviously.
It still felt temporary to her, as if one day she would wake up and everyone would decide to go back to their normal lives, their real lives, and the house would settle back to sleep under a blanket of quiet.
“What if this doesn’t work out?” Topher finished Maggie’s sentence for her as she shrugged, apologizing for voicing a thought she felt guilty for thinking. “I’ve thought about that too. I guess if it doesn’t work out, we move on and figure out our lives. I guess this is bigger for me, and Evvie maybe, because we moved from the States, but I needed a change. That is, Dickie had already decided to let me go. And with my mother here, I would probably have come over anyway. If it doesn’t work out, we’re all grown-ups, we’ll figure it out.”
“I hate even hearing you talk about it not working out.” Evvie’s mouth was downturned. “Of course we’d figure it out, but it’s been so amazing, living with other people. I had no idea how lonely I was.”
“Me too.” Maggie nodded.
“I have no idea what I would do. I’m sure I would be fine, but I honestly don’t know if I’d stay in England or go back to America. Maybe I’d go to California to be near Jack. But I hope this does work out. Are you having doubts, Maggie?”
“Not doubts. I love every second of it. Apart from cereal bowls and mugs being left in the sink late at night.” She gave them both a pointed look.
“That’s me,” Topher confessed, wincing. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.”
“Can you also refill the cereal jar?”
“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m used to a housekeeper doing all that stuff.”
“You did not just say that!” Evvie’s mouth dropped open.
“Say what?” he said innocently. “What? It wasn’t me, I’m not spoiled. It was Dickie. Oh, okay. So I became spoiled. I’m having to retrain myself, okay? I made my bed this morning.”
“Well done,” said Evvie, but her eyes were twinkling.
“Sorry.” Topher looked at Maggie. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that I love it, but I suppose I’m so used to this house being quiet, to me rattling around in it by myself, I kind of feel like it’s all going to end and everyone will go back to their lives, leaving me by myself again.”
Topher nodded, musing. “I get it,” he said. “In some ways it must be hardest for you because this house is your home. It’s where you lived with Ben. It must be filled with memories, and it’s also yours. It’s not a place you can easily share. It probably would be easiest if we all bought something together, started on an equal footing.”
“We could still do that,” said Evvie. “Not that I don’t love it here, but we’re not tied to anything. Now that we’re renting from you, we could always look for something else and start again. If it doesn’t work out, of course, which I am sure it will.”
“Are you?” Topher looked at her. “You look doubtful.”
“I’m sure,” she said, which was true. As long as the past stayed in the past, it would all work out. She changed the subject. “Where are you going dressed like that anyway?”
“I’m taking my mother out to lunch.”
“I haven’t seen her in so many years. I’d love to see her. Why don’t you invite her over here?” said Evvie, remembering the Dexatrim she was introduced to by Joan.
“I will, but she can’t stay. I love my mother, but only in small doses. Speaking of which, I have to go.”
“Have a wonderful time.” Evvie blew him a kiss as Topher stole the last of Maggie’s toast, dropped the flat cap on the table, and left.
“What are you doing today?” she asked Maggie.
“Boring stuff. Paperwork. I have to run into the village to get some coffee and a few other things. Why?”
“Can I come with you? Is there an animal rescue anywhere around here?”
Maggie peered at her friend. “We’re not getting a dog.”
“Definitely not. But let’s just go and have a look.” She winked. “Just for fun.”
forty
- 2019 -
I do like it at Hadleys,” said Topher’s mother, eyeing the faux bookshelves approvingly. “It’s lovely to have such sophistication at the English seaside. Also . . .” She paused as the waiter set down her roast chicken. “They do lovely big portions. Not that I can eat anything anymore, but I’ll take it home and this will feed me for the next three days. It’s like being back in America. That lovely Gillian doesn’t even frown when I ask her for a doggie bag.”
“How often do you come here?” asked Topher, who noted how his mother was greeted like one of the family.
His mother shrugged. “I’ve never cooked, darling. This is where all my dates bring me.”
“Ah yes. And who is the lucky man this week?”
“My gentleman caller of the last six months has been James. He’s lovely.”
“James? Same name as Dad. How funny.”
Topher’s mother looked at him blankly. “He’s ever so charming, and handsome. His people are from Connecticut. Greenwich.”
“Mom?” Topher frowned, leaning forward. “What are you talking about?”
“They’re in shipping. Not him, but his mother’s family. Lots of money, apparently. Such fun!”
“Mom. You’re talking about Dad. He’s . . .” Topher gave up, sighing. What was he supposed to say? If he told her that the man she thought she was talking about had been dead for years, would she break down in floods of tears in the restaurant? No. His mother was not one for public shows of emotion, but nor was she one to be confused. This wasn’t like her at all.
“Do you remember our house in Greenwich off Round Hill Road?” Topher said, and it was like flicking a switch as his mother nodded, suddenly animated. “Remember the polo club you used to go to?” And suddenly his mother was back, enthusiastically chatting about the polo club, their life as a family when Topher was young, not a confused bone in her body.
“And . . . do you remember Dad’s funeral?” Topher asked gently.
“Oh God, yes,” she said. “The service in New York. It was standing room only, and there was an overflow that had to fill all the other rooms. We had to bring in screens so they could watch the service. What a beloved man he was.”
“You miss him.”
“I do.”
“So, Mother, you know I’ve moved to Somerset?” He was treading gently, not sure of the areas in which her confusion struck.
“Of course I know that, darling. You’re with all your lovely old friends from university. We can see each other all the time. You can bring me to Hadleys every week for lunch. How’s that for starters?”
Topher smiled, relief flooding his body. Whatever happened before, with her confusion, must just be old age rather than anything more serious like dementia. His mother was back to herself, in charge of her destiny, her choices, her life.
“You have to come and see the house,” he said. “They would all love to see you, and you’d adore it.”
&nb
sp; “What house?” she said, lifting the chicken to her mouth and not noticing that gravy dripped down the front of her silk blouse.
“Mother,” he said, his heart again fluttering with fear. “Have you been to see a doctor recently?”
* * *
• • •
They managed to get in that afternoon.
“Who says the NHS is rubbish?” muttered Topher in the waiting room, stunned that they got an appointment that day, and that there was no wait.
“It’s wonderful here,” said his mother, back on peak performance. “London was so challenging for doctors. I once spent eight hours in Accident and Emergency and not one person came to see me.”
“What was the matter?”
“Theater!” His mother was distracted by a poster on the bulletin board. “Oh, look, they’re doing Bedroom Farce! Oh, we must go and see it. Darling, will you get tickets?”
“Of course.” Topher took out his phone and took a shot of the poster so he could call for tickets, thinking how unlike her it was to be so easily distracted.
“Darling, I do love having you here,” she said, taking his arm and snuggling up to him. “I can’t believe my little boy is right here in Somerset. It’s going to be so much fun.”
“Mrs. Winthrop?” The receptionist called her name without looking at her, even though they were the only ones in the waiting room, and Topher and his mother stood up and walked through to see the doctor.
He joined them almost immediately in what was clearly his consultation office. “I’m Dr. Khan,” the young man said in introduction, shaking hands with Topher. “Very nice to meet you. I have heard lots about you from your mother.”
“Oh.” Topher was surprised. “That’s so nice.”
“And it’s lovely to see you, Mrs. Winthrop. You’re looking very elegant, as always.” Topher watched as his mother positively simpered at a compliment from a handsome man.
“Please, take a seat,” said the doctor, gesturing to the two plastic seats in front of his heavy mahogany desk. Then he sat at the desk and looked at them. “What brings you here today?”