Is This It?

by Hannah Tovey

  ‘I thought you were saving silkworms?’

  ‘It’s good to diversify. I messaged Leonardo DiCaprio on the Gram asking for tips on other ethical projects. He hasn’t replied. Did I tell you I have five friends now? There’s Anna, Mia, Dan—’

  ‘Dan?’

  ‘Darling, we’re besties. Then there’s Mia’s acupuncturist, the one who used to do Meghan Markle, and some man named Terry.’

  ‘Who’s Terry?’

  ‘He owns a car rental shop in Pontypridd. He keeps sending me a ping asking if I’d like to go for dinner.’

  ‘You need to block him.’

  ‘That’s absurd, I’m loving the attention.’

  ‘Does Dad know about this?’

  ‘I saw Dan in a little pleather number last week,’ Mam said, ignoring me. ‘He had a little collar round his neck, too. What a fun evening that looked.’

  ‘I bet.’

  ‘Anna said you argued with Scott, what happened?’

  ‘I don’t want to go into it.’

  ‘Have you misbehaved?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then what are you doing wasting your time on the phone with me? Go and get him, Ivy.’

  I smiled. ‘I love you, Mam.’

  ‘In moments of doubt, Ivy, ask yourself, what would Gramps do?’

  ‘That’s exactly what Anna said.’

  ‘She takes after her mother. You need to listen to me. I’m always right. It’s one of my best qualities.’

  Nancy was on the edge of a tantrum all morning. Much like myself, she was tearful and irritable, refusing to engage with anyone in class. When everyone went outside to play, she remained seated, staring at the green apple in her hands.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I said.

  Her eyes were red and puffy. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and have a cry right there with her.

  ‘I made Hakim sad.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Nancy. Why don’t you tell me what happened, and we can work through it together?’

  ‘I hid his lunchbox. He said that Horatio was his best friend but yesterday I was his best friend.’

  ‘A lot can change in the space of a day,’ I said.

  She looked up at me and I realised that wasn’t the wisdom she was after.

  ‘How did you feel before you took Hakim’s lunchbox?’

  ‘I was sad.’

  ‘And how did it make you feel hiding the lunchbox?’

  ‘Sad.’

  ‘So, what do you think you’ll do next time?’

  She thought long and hard. ‘I won’t take his lunchbox.’

  ‘Well done, Nancy. Recognising our mistakes and learning from them is very brave – I’m proud of you. Why don’t you take a special treat from the tin and give it to Hakim, I’m sure he’d like that.’

  ‘He likes the gooey ones.’

  ‘That’s because they’re the best.’

  I told her to go ahead and look in the tin. Her eyes lit up as she rummaged around looking for the purple one. When she found it, she threw herself at me.

  ‘Thanks, Miss Edwards!’ she said, before running outside to the playground.

  I was tidying up the classroom when I saw Mr Reid standing by the door.

  ‘Well done, Ivy.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘You’re able to sympathise with the children and help them navigate themselves out of challenging situations. It’s a great skill you have.’

  I smiled and went back to sorting the books.

  ‘The tin of treats has gone down a storm, I see.’

  ‘It’s basically a kilo of chocolate, so I can’t take credit there.’

  ‘Learn to take a compliment, Ivy.’

  ‘Sorry. And thank you.’

  He was about to leave the room when he turned back around again.

  ‘I’m glad you chose us, Ivy. We’re lucky to have you.’

  ‘You don’t know what that means to me.’

  ‘I think I do.’

  He walked out the door and I sat down on Nancy’s red chair, wondering why whenever I felt like I was moving forward in one area of my life, I went backwards in another.

  32

  In the corner of the room Mabel was cwtching Primrose. We were having free play and both girls were dressed as bees. Mabel’s bee had a tiara on its head and Primrose’s had a feather boa around its neck. They’d drawn love hearts all over their arms and were telling each other how much they loved one another. Jamar, waving an enormous light sabre/wand over his head, ran over to them.

  ‘I love you, Mabel,’ he said. ‘And I love you, Primrose.’

  ‘I love you,’ Primrose said.

  ‘Do you love me?’ Jamar asked Mabel.

  She pondered this for a moment before nodding her head.

  ‘Who do you love the most? Me or Mabel?’ Primrose asked Jamar.

  He jumped up and down before shouting, ‘Harry Kane.’

  He fell on the floor in hysterics as Mabel got out a green pen and started drawing love hearts on Jamar’s face.

  Primrose caught me looking at them.

  ‘Miss Edwards, do you love me?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, without hesitation.

  ‘Mummy said you should always tell someone if you love them,’ Jamar said.

  ‘Someone’s put you up to this, haven’t they?’

  Three expressionless faces stared back at me. Turns out they hadn’t been put up to this, but at twenty-nine years my junior, they knew a hell of a lot more about love than I did.

  I wanted to run to Scott like they do in romantic comedies; we’d be at an airport and I’d have made a huge banner, and a flash mob would emerge from the crowds and sing Frank Sinatra’s ‘I Love You Baby’ and Scott would cry and I would cry and then we’d hug and everything would be perfect for the rest of our lives.

  But instead of some romantic gesture in an open public space aka Heath Ledger in a 1990s teen romcom, there was me, on a two-week period, with a face full of spots and the emotional constitution of a toddler.

  I went by his flat after school. I stood under the awning of the corner shop, chain-smoking, until 7 p.m., when I remembered that he played squash on Wednesdays. I went to a greasy spoon opposite the flat, ordered an omelette because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, and waited for him to get home. At nine thirty, I saw him. I hurriedly paid my bill and ran outside.

  He paused in the middle of the road when he saw me, then started walking again.

  When we were less than a metre apart, I said hello.

  ‘I’m sorry to turn up like this unannounced.’

  He didn’t say anything.

  ‘Can I come in?’ I asked.

  ‘OK.’

  He moved his umbrella over me to shield me from the rain, and we walked to his flat.

  I was surprised to see some papers and magazines scattered on the table, instead of in the neat pile they’re always in, at the top right-hand corner of the table. He always has two cashmere blankets sat on the arm of the sofa, but one was thrown over the furnishings. I thought about the time he wrapped me up in it after we’d had sex on the kitchen floor. It wasn’t quite the steamy encounter I’d fantasised about. I ended up smacking my face into the cutlery drawer and was unable to carry on with proceedings due to the intense ringing in my head.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you,’ he said, breaking the silence.

  ‘I don’t know why I’ve left it this long. I should have run after you on Friday.’

  ‘Should you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He poured himself a glass of red wine and offered me some. I asked for water.

  ‘I don’t know where to start,’ I said.

  ‘Why don’t you start at the beginning.’

  I thought about what Anna had said. It was as good a starting place as any.

  ‘I have a tendency to self-destruct,’ I said.

  I watched him as he drank his wine. He didn’t say anything, so I carried on talking.
<
br />   ‘Being me has taken some time getting used to. I’m not a hundred per cent there yet, but I want to be. And I know it might not look like it, but I’m trying.’

  He still wasn’t making eye contact with me.

  ‘My ex, Jamie … he’s going out with the mother of one of my pupil’s.’

  He finally looked me in the eye.

  ‘How did you find that out?’

  ‘I overheard the nanny talking about it.’

  ‘Is that why you’ve taken up smoking again?’

  ‘No … yes. This is only temporary, I promise.’

  ‘You don’t have to promise me anything.’

  ‘But I do. I want to be a better person for you, Scott. I don’t have feelings for Jamie any more. But when I overheard the nanny, I was thrown.’

  ‘Does she know you were engaged?’

  ‘I don’t think so. I’d be mortified if she did.’

  He drank more wine. I waited for him to speak.

  ‘You lied to me, didn’t you, about Mia’s audition that night?’

  ‘I was afraid you’d think I was still in love with Jamie, or something.’

  ‘But you’re not? Because from where I’m sitting, it sort of looks like you are.’

  ‘No, I’m not, but it felt like a lightning bolt hit me and I panicked.’

  He poured himself more wine and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa to me.

  ‘I behaved appallingly last year. A lot of people lost faith in me – I lost faith in me. And whilst I can stand here and tell you that I don’t love Jamie any more, that doesn’t mean that I’m OK with what happened. I’m not over it. I wish I was, but I’m not.’

  He remained silent.

  ‘I think that’s why I tried to push you away – Dilys said I’d fuck this up anyway, so I’d better just get it over with.’

  ‘Who’s Dilys?’

  ‘The voice in my head.’

  ‘Right … Sorry, what?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve been a total tit, and I’m sorry.’

  I moved my hand closer to his. I wanted more than anything for him to take it. But he didn’t.

  ‘The thing is, Scott, I love you. I’ve loved you for ages.’

  I watched him process this, trying to find clues in his face. There were none.

  ‘I asked you to be honest with me,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think I was honest with you.’

  I waited for him to speak again.

  ‘I told you my dad moved out for a couple of years when I was younger. He got into some gambling debt and Mum kicked him out. Oliver wasn’t much use; his idea of coping with things was to stay out all night drinking on Camden Lock.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I had no idea.’

  ‘I know I try to control things, but that’s how it’s been since he left. I had to step in, because nobody else did. Nobody else could get us back on track as a family.’

  ‘Scott—’

  ‘It’s really fucking hard to hold it together when you’re fifteen and you’re in the middle of your exams.’

  ‘It wasn’t up to you; you were a child.’

  ‘You said you’re not a hundred per cent comfortable with yourself; well, neither am I. I’m fantastically self-critical. I can’t stand to not be in control of everything, and up until two months ago, I was a massive workaholic.’

  ‘What happened two months ago?’

  ‘I got bored of being the last one in the office. I got bored of not having a life. I wanted to be happy.’

  ‘I know how that feels.’

  ‘I know your teacher training is the most important thing, and I’m not trying to compete, but it’s about balance. You’re always saying your tutor Dawn goes on about that, and I wish you would try to relax a bit because you’re doing so well. Finn thinks you’re exceptionally bright – he said you’ve come on leaps and bounds since you first started.’

  ‘Did he say that?’

  ‘Of course, more than once.’

  I beamed inside. ‘I’m so sorry I hurt you.’

  ‘I’m sorry, too.’

  He moved towards me and held my face in his hands.

  ‘I love you, Ivy. I should’ve said it earlier too.’

  He pressed his lips to mine, and, before I knew it, I was crying.

  ‘I want to work at this with you,’ I said. ‘I think we’re great together.’

  ‘I do too.’

  His hands were suddenly all over me.

  ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I’m on my period.’

  ‘I don’t care about that.’

  ‘I know but … ’

  He closed his eyes as I unbuttoned his trousers. It shows how much I love him that I volunteered to give him a blow job. It shows how much he loves me that he let me do it on his pristine cream sofa.

  I must have fallen asleep because I was woken by his fingers grazing my nipple. I opened my eyes and told him that I loved him.

  ‘I’m sorry about last year,’ he said. ‘I don’t know your sort of grief, but I know other sorts, and anytime you want to talk about it, I’m here.’

  He began kissing every inch of my chest.

  ‘I want you to meet my parents,’ I said. ‘When they come up for Christmas.’

  ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘They’re going to love you. Not as much as I love you, of course. Actually, Mam will fancy you just as much as I fancy you.’

  ‘I’m ready for your mother’s wandering hands.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ I said, laughing.

  ‘So, they’re definitely coming up to London then?’

  ‘My sister’s working on it. Sometimes you need to take a softly-softly approach with Margaret Edwards.’

  ‘Wow, our first Christmas together.’

  ‘I’m expecting lots of very expensive, high-end gifts.’

  He kissed me. ‘You can have whatever you want, Ivy.’

  ‘I want you, that’s all.’

  ‘You’ve got me.’

  ‘What will you do for Christmas?’ I asked. ‘How does it work with divorced parents?’

  ‘That’s just it, it doesn’t work. I start worrying about it from around about the first of February. Oliver’s never here, so it’s up to me to schedule everything. I end up running around London, trying to make sure Mum and Dad see me in equal amounts.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very merry.’

  ‘No matter how much I plan it, someone always gets the short straw.’

  ‘Do you think they’ll ever be able to spend it together?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘I’m so sorry it’s so stressful.’

  ‘It’s Christmas, isn’t it? It’s always stressful.’

  ‘We’ll do lots of lovely things together, like go see Love Actually on a rooftop cinema and go ice skating at Somerset House. Oh, and we can have sex outdoors, after we’ve picked out a Christmas tree.’

  ‘Why after?’

  ‘Because I figure we’ll have an argument about it.’

  ‘There’s no way we’re getting a real tree for my flat. Just the thought of all those pine needles falling on the floor is making me tense.’

  ‘It’s starting already.’

  ‘You get a real one, I’ll get a fake one. Which means that with Mum and Dad’s separate ones, I’m getting four. Does that seem extravagant?’

  ‘Not at all. It’s Christmas.’

  ‘See, first hurdle accomplished. We are so good at this.’

  He got up and walked me to the bedroom, where we lay in bed holding on to each other. I lay wide awake, listening to his snores, thinking about all the things we were going to do together.

  I wanted to do everything with him. And I was going to make sure I did it right this time.

  33

  I was trying to explain to Scott how contentious Christmas in the Edwards family can be, whilst also being conscious of not revealing the true nature of their infantile behaviour. It was a fine balance. Despite a messy divorce,
his family sounded grounded, calm, rational, whilst mine are dramatic, argumentative, borderline insane.

  This year was turning out to be more stressful than the last. Mam was outraged at Anna for suggesting we spend the holidays in London and Anna was outraged at Mam for how controlling and condescending she’d been since Anna had fallen pregnant. I tried to stay out of things – opting instead to spend my time having better than average, often mind-blowing regular sex, but it was no use. Whether I liked it or not, I was going to have to pick a side.

  Don’t you just love Christmas?

  They’d not spoken to each other in over a week, which, considering they usually FaceTime up to four times a day, was a big deal. Mam had never spent Christmas outside of South Wales; she kept making snide remarks that Londoners don’t know how to do Christmas like the Welsh, but it was clear what she really meant: Anna couldn’t do Christmas like her. I knew from school that behaviour in the classroom can make or break your lesson. I also knew that Mam’s behaviour could make or break Christmas. I caved, and stepped in.

  ‘This is your home,’ Mam said. ‘You should all be home for the holidays.’

  We were on the phone one day after school. I had an essay to finish, a paper to read and an evaluation to complete, but no, Mam needed to air some more grievances about Jesus’s birthday party, so that’s what we did. Before the call I wrote down a list of the techniques I use on the children to help settle them.

  ‘Try to come at this from a place of compassion, Mam.’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t be on my side.’

  ‘Anna and Mark have their own family now. They need to set their own traditions.’

  ‘Anna said I was being selfish. Me? Selfish? I don’t have a selfish bone in me.’

  ‘Why don’t we make a plan?’

  ‘Where are we going to get the champagne? We always have champagne on Christmas.’

  ‘Why don’t you go for a walk down the beach, get some fresh air. You love the beach this time of year.’

  ‘I know you have a Sainsbury’s down the road but what if they’ve run out and, God forbid, we have to have Cava?’

  ‘Maybe tonight we can do some gentle yoga together, over FaceTime?’

  ‘You think I’m being difficult but I’m not.’

  Last year we didn’t have a discussion about it; it was the first Christmas without Gramps, and of course it would be at home in Wales. Mam pulled out all the stops, to keep busy as much as anything, knowing the whole affair would be cloaked in heartache. It was memorable and touching, if not a little intense.