If You Were Here

by Alice Peterson

  He’s right. Stu and Jane are arriving this afternoon. It’s only dinner here, low key, but it’s still going to be a late night, and if Lucy and James’s father, Matthew, have anything to do with it, there’ll be plenty of alcohol involved as well.

  ‘Let her have a day off,’ Maddie insists to James, suddenly in my bedroom too, dressed in her pyjamas and sloppy jumper, her long frizzy hair tied back in two ponytails. ‘Flo, don’t let him bully you.’

  ‘Well, I’m going,’ he states. ‘Need to run off the mince pies.’

  I think about my indulgent few days with Granny. If I wasn’t sleeping I was eating, and the chart on my bedroom door was ignored. I haven’t been for a run since Christmas Eve and I know the longer I leave it the harder it will become . . .

  ‘Okay, fine,’ I give in to James. ‘Sorry Maddie, I’d better go. You could come too?’ I suggest.

  Her laugh says it all. ‘Just don’t be too long,’ she adds.

  *

  There is something special about running in the countryside, on uninterrupted land, only rolling hills and stunning views for company. James and I head all the way into Crickhowell, which is just over four miles from his parents’ home, and it’s hard work for me after a few days off, whereas James annoyingly makes it appear effortless. We go at a slower pace on the way home, James taking me off the beaten track, leading me towards a grand-looking hotel in the far distance.

  ‘Shouldn’t we be getting home?’ I say, aware I’d promised Maddie it would only be a short run.

  ‘I want to show you this place first,’ James says.

  We walk up some steps and into the hotel reception. ‘Hello, James,’ a smart woman in uniform greets him from behind the desk, before coming forward to give him a hug. ‘Lovely to see you.’

  ‘You too.’ He introduces me to Eleanor, a family friend. ‘Can I give Flo a quick tour? I know we’re not exactly dressed—’

  ‘As it’s you,’ she says. ‘Go on, make yourself at home.’

  James leads me into a drawing room with a cosy fireplace and sofas that look so comfortable I want to lie down at once, and a table covered with books and magazines. We walk through a small bar, a few guests drinking coffee and reading the paper.

  ‘When I’m feeling low I shut my eyes and think of this view,’ he tells me, walking out on to the terrace that overlooks the river Usk. ‘On a summer’s day, I love sitting out here, listening to the sound of the river.’

  It’s too cold to stay outside, but James and I order a coffee from the bar. ‘You know we just ran nine miles, Flo? Not bad post-Christmas.’

  ‘But it’s nowhere near twenty-six. Do you wish you were running it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he admits. ‘So you’re just going to have to do it for me, okay?’

  I smile, suddenly feeling strangely conscious being with James in a bar. It’s almost as if we’re on a date.

  ‘How’s Chloe?’ I ask. ‘It’s a shame she couldn’t be here.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’m sure she’d rather be in Venice.’

  ‘And how was your Christmas?’ I carry on, sounding as if I’m interviewing him.

  ‘Pretty much the same as last year: drinks with the neighbours on Christmas Eve, stockings in our parents’ room on Christmas Day, then Mum grilling me on my love life; you know what it’s like.’ He stops. His face reddens. ‘Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I reassure him, ‘but make the most of your mum and dad. You know what I wish?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘That I’d asked Mum more questions. I thought I knew everything about her, but since reading her diaries, I realize there were so many things I wasn’t curious about.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I learned all about her time at Camberwell. I discovered she’d worked for this decorative florist to pay for her art stuff and her drinks in the student union bar. Some amazing guy set up a business in his garage in Twickenham, and Mum would go to the garden market in Covent Garden in the early hours of the morning, a couple of times a week, to buy the flowers. She ended up having a hot steamy affair with one of the guys she worked with. They’d stick the radio on and smoke pot. She said he helped her forget all her troubles back home.’

  James runs a hand through his hair. ‘Sex is a good distraction. So what happened to this guy?’

  ‘I don’t know; that’s my point. Sometimes she’d go for weeks without writing, and then write every day for the next month. I wish I’d had the time to fill in the gaps while she was alive. And then there was Mark.’

  ‘Mark? Wasn’t he the older guy? The teacher?’

  ‘Exactly. Her tutor. He was married. I used to think he was interested in her, but she constantly denied it, saying they were just friends. But she loved him and he loved her.’ I can’t help but feel hurt that it’s yet one more thing Mum didn’t tell me. ‘Why didn’t she say something to me, James?’

  ‘I don’t know. Parents do keep things from us. I’m sure there’s a hell of a lot I don’t know about my mum’s past. Maybe she didn’t say anything about Mark because nothing could happen between them?’

  ‘Maybe. I’m glad she had him in her life. I’m relieved she had someone to turn to. She came so close to telling Granny.’ When I read that entry I couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if she had, if Granny hadn’t needed to go to A&E. I imagine things would have turned out very differently. Mum might still be alive.

  ‘What stopped her?’

  I tell James what happened, before realizing it’s getting late and we should be heading back.

  ‘Anyway, that’s all I’m saying: talk to your parents,’ I tell him. ‘Don’t screen your mum’s calls—’

  ‘I won’t, unless Line of Duty’s on—’

  ‘Be serious,’ I say, unwrapping the mint chocolate that came with our coffee, aware James is watching me closely. ‘Have I got something—?’

  Before I can finish my sentence, James’s thumb is gently wiping away the chocolate that has settled in one corner of my mouth, his eyes making contact with mine again.

  ‘We should go,’ I say, pulling away abruptly. ‘They’ll be wondering where we are.’

  He places a fiver on the table and sticks his jacket on. ‘Race you back.’

  ‘Wait!’ I put my coat on. ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Life isn’t fair,’ he calls over his shoulder.

  ‘Wait!’ I catch up with him saying goodbye to Eleanor behind the reception desk, before we’re both outside again.

  ‘Loser has to do the washing-up for the next year,’ he suggests.

  ‘I do that anyway. You are remarkably shy of any housework.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like being too forward. Loser has to unclog the hair in the shower too.’

  I attempt to trip him up since that’s a job I’d readily give up. Currently James and I take it in turns.

  ‘Foul play,’ he says, trying to trip me up now, before I grab his arm to pull him back, giggling, and we’re still laughing when we return to the house.

  ‘You’ve been hours,’ Maddie says, with a hint of annoyance, classical music blasting from the kitchen, the dogs rushing to greet us.

  ‘I won,’ I declare to James.

  ‘No, you didn’t. I did.’

  ‘Children, it was a draw,’ Maddie decides for us.

  ‘Fine,’ I say, picking up on Maddie’s irritable mood. ‘Sorry we’ve been so long but James showed me the hotel—’

  ‘Doesn’t matter,’ she cuts me off. ‘I made a pot of coffee, but it went cold hours ago,’ she says, walking away.

  68

  Peggy

  It’s early evening when Ricky pops over with Mia, now almost a year old, in her buggy and looking faintly ridiculous carrying a flowery rucksack.

  ‘You’re a legend,’ Ricky tells me. He and Shelley are going out tonight for a meal, before watching the fireworks on the Victoria Embankment. I’m only too happy to stay in and babysit, and make sure Elvis i
sn’t too spooked by the bangs.

  ‘Shelley has packed her bag,’ Ricky assures me. ‘There’s everything you need, toys, snacks and she’s been changed so she should be cool, but there are nappies too, just in case. Can’t thank you enough,’ he says, giving me a hug and a thumbs up before adding, ‘See you next year!’

  ‘Now then, Mia, what shall we do?’ I stare down at this little dark-haired girl in her pushchair. ‘Hello, little one.’ I wave at her and she stares back at me, but on I go, suggesting, ‘We could play a fun little game? Why don’t we play with your toys?’ I ask in a peculiar singalong voice.

  She continues to stare back at me with her big round eyes in a rather off-putting way, as if to say ‘You’re not my mother; you’re an old prune’.

  Determined not to be put off yet, I lift her out of her pushchair before popping her on to one of Elvis’s blankets on the floor, Elvis sniffing her out to see who this is invading his spot by the fireplace.

  ‘Shoo, Elvis,’ I say, turning round to unzip the bulging rucksack to see what toys Shelley has packed. I notice a Tupperware box that needs to be put straight into the fridge, along with a bottle of water, a packet of rice cakes and a bag filled with chopped carrots. With any luck, Mia can sit quietly and play before bedtime. I know Ricky is far more relaxed – Mia stays up half the night with him – but I think an early supper, a quick game and then straight to bed.

  I head into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, only to turn round seconds later when I hear Mia giggling as she tugs Elvis’s short stumpy tail.

  ‘No!’ I say, bending down to pick her up before placing her back on the blanket by the fireplace. ‘You stay here. Look, what a lovely game!’ I point to some building bricks but Mia decides crawling around the sitting room floor pulling Elvis’s tail again is much more fun.

  As I attempt for the third time to settle her back on to the blanket, I smell something distinctly pongy, so pongy even Elvis makes a swift getaway, escaping under the armchair.

  ‘Oh dear, I’ve made a mistake,’ I say to Mia, examining her after changing her nappy, knowing something isn’t quite right. Perhaps the picture of the lion’s smiling face on one side of the nappy and his tail on the other was a good clue as to which is the front and which is the back.

  ‘Silly Granny, she’s made a boo-boo,’ I say, amazed when Mia breaks into a smile and laughs. ‘Silly Granny,’ I say once more. She remains quiet. ‘Boo-boo!’ I repeat, delighted when she giggles again.

  ‘Now, we’ll have some delicious supper – fish pie, yum yum – and then have a little nap-nap,’ I say, pushing her buggy into the kitchen.

  I really need a high chair. She’ll have to eat where she is.

  I give her a small piece of raw carrot that’s been cut into a neat baton. As I turn on the oven to warm up the fish pie, I hear a gagging sound before I yank the carrot back from her mouth. I don’t want her to choke on my watch.

  I open the packet of rice cakes instead.

  ‘Here we go.’ But she doesn’t want to eat a rice cake. I take a sniff and a small bite. Frankly, I wouldn’t either. It tastes of sawdust and air.

  I take a biscuit from my tin – a chocolate bourbon – dunk it into my cup of sugary tea and see if that’s a more appetizing starter. Mia’s face lights up as if she has never tasted a chocolate biscuit before.

  ‘Well, it is New Year’s Eve. I won’t tell if you don’t,’ I whisper, pressing a finger to my lips.

  My mobile rings.

  ‘Hi, Granny,’ Flo says, sounding relaxed. ‘Wanted to say Happy New Year now, just in case I don’t get a chance to call later.’ Flo knows only too well that I never normally bother to wait for Big Ben to strike twelve times. I’ve never seen the point of the terrible pressure to pretend you’re having a jolly good time, when all you really want is to be in bed with a cosy hot-water bottle. Wake me up when it’s all over, please. I tell her I’m babysitting Mia, which she seems to find funny. ‘Are you having a nice time?’ I ask, hearing music playing in the background and lots of laughter.

  ‘Lovely,’ she says. ‘You haven’t had any more funny turns?’

  ‘I’m as fit as a fiddle!’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise.’

  ‘Good. I’d better go. I’m needed to lay the table.’

  ‘What are you going to eat?’ I ask, wanting to keep her on the line a moment longer.

  ‘Roast lamb.’

  ‘How delicious.’

  ‘I wish you were here, Granny.’

  ‘Oh, Flo. Me too. But I’m with you in spirit.’

  ‘Happy New Year,’ Flo says once more. ‘I’ll raise a glass to Mum and Granddad at midnight. And to you.’

  69

  Flo

  James’s father, Matthew, sits at the head of the table. In his mid-sixties, he has a head of unruly grey hair and equally wayward eyebrows that work well with his craggy features. Though far from conventionally handsome, when he smiles his entire face lights up and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes reminds me of James.

  Lucy sits opposite him in a figure-hugging pale-grey dress and knee-high purple suede boots. She cut her hair this afternoon. She is a wonderful no-nonsense kind of woman. If her hair is getting too long she simply takes a pair of kitchen scissors and gives it a good cut. She swims in the river all year round because that’s what a wetsuit’s for. Maddie and James have often told me about her midnight trips to the river, fishing in waders over her pyjamas, and wearing a lantern strapped around her head.

  ‘I don’t care what I look like,’ she says, ‘that’s the advantage of getting old.’

  ‘But Mum, no one’s going to see you anyway, not in the dark,’ Maddie reminds her.

  I’m sitting next to Matthew and opposite James, and Maddie sits on my other side. During our first course we talk about politics and the gloomy state of the world, careful not to discuss Brexit, quickly changing the subject to work.

  Stu horrifies us by saying a mongrel dog was brought into his clinic recently, having been found beaten and battered on a motorway.

  ‘Wait, it’s got a happy ending,’ he reassures us. ‘We’ve nursed her back to health and found her a new home.’

  Maddie tells us she has just landed a new job designing costumes for A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the National Theatre in London. It’s her biggest job yet. We all clap at that, me claiming excitedly that she can come and stay with James and me.

  ‘This year has been, well . . . different,’ I say, when it comes to my turn, before everyone falls silent. Not wanting to drag the mood down, I continue, ‘I didn’t go to America, but I have run nearly fourteen miles,’ which receives the biggest round of applause.

  ‘And you’ve put up with living with my brother for yet another three hundred and sixty-five days,’ Maddie says.

  ‘No mean feat,’ Matthew adds.

  ‘Oh, he’s all right,’ I find myself saying, catching James’s eye.

  Over pudding I talk to Matthew about his childhood in Kenya. ‘I had a wild time scampering around in shorts and plimsolls, collecting birds’ eggs. Seeing a snake was nothing unusual. That’s where my curiosity of animals and wildlife began, Flo.’

  ‘I’m envious,’ calls Lucy across the table.

  ‘Why, Mum?’ James asks. ‘What was yours like?’

  ‘Rigid. Dinner at seven on the dot and polishing school shoes every Sunday evening.’

  ‘Looking back, I was lucky’, Matthew continues, ‘to be surrounded by beautiful creatures, and to be able to ride and fish. My father made a special rod for me out of bamboo. He was a wonderful vet, Flo. In the middle of nowhere, he had to work on instinct. Young vets these days have a different approach. They rely on equipment, X-rays and blood tests.’

  ‘It’s called progress,’ James suggests, conceding, ‘but I know what you mean. I’d love to work out in the bush like Granddad did.’ He looks at me again. ‘I wish I’d talked more to him about it.’

  ‘Well, why don’t you
travel with your job, James?’ Lucy says. ‘You’re free as a bird, no ties. Now’s the time to do it.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Maddie agrees. ‘What’s keeping you here?’

  *

  During cheese and biscuits we go round the table again, sharing New Year resolutions.

  ‘I’ve got to lose some weight,’ Maddie confesses. ‘All I do is sit hunched over my desk and order pizza. And I need to stop drinking.’ She refills her glass. ‘Oh, and find a boyfriend, but that would be a miracle.’

  ‘No, it wouldn’t,’ I say. ‘It’s hard meeting the right person, but it’s possible.’

  ‘How about you, Flo?’ Lucy asks.

  ‘I don’t have any resolutions.’

  ‘No,’ Lucy says. ‘I meant have you met anyone? Don’t you young ones go online these days?’

  I can feel my cheeks redden. ‘No. I haven’t.’

  ‘Sorry, darling, is it too soon after Theo?’

  Unsure what to say, Maddie helps me out. ‘The online dating world is terrifying, Mum. It’s a jungle out there and you have to be in the right frame of mind to do it. Half of the guys just want sex and the other half are married. I’m getting another cat.’

  ‘My resolution is positively not to meet anyone,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t believe in resolutions,’ James chips in.

  ‘Why? Because you’re so perfect?’ Maddie asks.

  ‘I’m not saying that. I don’t like setting myself up to fail, that’s all.’

  ‘I’d like to stop snoring,’ Matthew tells us, breaking the odd tension that’s formed around the table.

  ‘Now that would be a miracle.’ Lucy laughs. ‘He sounds like a blooming fog horn.’

  ‘You could sort out your bloody clutter,’ he fights back. ‘We live in a pigsty.’ Lucy hates to throw anything away. There is so much clutter in each room. The kitchen is the worst, every surface covered with pots, pans, bowls, cookbooks, old newspapers and magazines, a sewing machine, paperwork, letters and bills, dog baskets in one corner, and the fridge door plastered with family photographs.

  ‘We’d like to have a family,’ Stu says, glancing at Jane. ‘Wouldn’t we?’