If You Were Here

by Alice Peterson

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she confides. ‘Fourteen weeks.’

  ‘Oh, dear God, Stu is going to be a dad,’ says James, before everyone laughs and we all congratulate them.

  ‘I need to catch more salmon and finish writing my book,’ Lucy claims when we’re back to discussing resolutions.

  ‘What’s it about?’ I ask.

  ‘Fishing.’

  ‘Oh, Mum, that’s going to be a real page-turner,’ Maddie groans.

  ‘It will be when I finish it. Think Jilly Cooper set on the riverbank.’

  ‘Oh, Mum,’ Maddie cringes again, all of us laughing. ‘Who’s going to read it?’

  ‘I will,’ I say, wanting to be loyal.

  ‘Fishing is one of the best distractions in the world,’ Lucy defends herself and her book, ‘and when a fresh salmon takes your fly, boy, there is no better feeling. Believe me, it’s even better than sex.’

  ‘Thank you,’ says Matthew solemnly.

  ‘If that’s the case, sex is wildly overrated,’ Maddie states.

  ‘Have you ever fished?’ Lucy asks me.

  ‘I’d be useless. I don’t really get it,’ I admit. ‘Sitting on a bank with a rod—’

  ‘You don’t sit, Flo,’ James corrects me. ‘You get in the water.’

  ‘Even worse.’ I laugh, Maddie thrilled I’m on her side.

  ‘And you’re not useless until you’ve at least given it a shot,’ Lucy says. ‘Everyone should try something once in their life.’

  ‘Right,’ James says, standing up. ‘You’re having a lesson with me on the lawn, Flo.’

  ‘What, now?’ I remain firmly put.

  ‘James, don’t be an idiot,’ says Maddie. ‘It’s pitch black.’

  ‘We have lights on the terrace,’ Lucy suggests. ‘Candles. Oh, come on, where’s your spirit of adventure, Maddie? Jane, Matthew can give you a casting lesson.’

  Jane looks at her as if she’d rather eat cardboard, or go to bed, but Stu says he could do with a fag, so somehow we are all heading outside fifteen minutes before midnight, James handing me a rod, me protesting this is crazy.

  ‘Go with it, Flo,’ he suggests, grinning.

  And he’s right. For the next ten minutes, all of us are finding our lessons stupidly funny. I’ve never heard Jane snort so much with laughter, and she hasn’t touched a glass of wine tonight.

  ‘Fishing is about patience and faith,’ James says, standing only inches apart from me again. ‘Okay, Flo, hold the rod firmly. Remember what I said last time?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘Er . . .’

  ‘Flo, the object of the exercise is to cast your fly into the river in such a way that attracts or irritates the salmon to take it.’

  ‘That’s right.’ I turn to him. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Stop moving; it spooks the fish.’

  ‘There are no fish, James! This is stupid!’

  ‘Just imagine there are.’

  ‘Fine.’ I attempt to keep still, but it’s hard with James standing so close to me.

  ‘Now try to make the top part of your rod do all the work.’ James places one hand against my hip and with his other hand he clasps me around my wrist, guiding the rod upwards, towards twelve o’clock, and in one sharp movement the line shoots forward.

  ‘That’s better,’ he says, ‘I’m going to get you back here in the summer, to do it for real, waders and all. Once more.’

  ‘Very good, Flo!’ Lucy calls.

  ‘Flo’s probably had enough,’ Maddie says. ‘Can’t we all go inside now? I’m freezing.’

  I can feel his warm breath against my cheek as he continues, ‘Just raise the tip of your rod and keep the line as tight as you can.’

  ‘Why do you love this so much?’ I ask.

  ‘I love the solitude, the sound of the water, the birds. It’s a place to think,’ James says now sounding remarkably sober. ‘When you have a rod in your hand you live in the moment. All that matters is the light, the cast, attracting the fish. There’s always hope too. I don’t know many sports where you can fish for weeks, months even, and catch nothing, but somehow remain hopeful that the next time will be your moment, that you will come home with a ten-pound salmon in your net. When I think about it, fishing is all about hope and faith.’

  ‘Flo! Everyone!’ Maddie calls. ‘It’s time!’

  The lesson on the lawn abruptly comes to an end, all of us running inside, before Lucy switches on the television in the kitchen, and Matthew gets out the bottle of champagne. ‘Three, two, ONE’ – we all call out as the cork pops – ‘HAPPY NEW YEAR!’

  I feel his hand on mine before he pulls me into his arms. ‘Happy New Year, Flo,’ James says.

  70

  Peggy

  I stir when I hear noise outside, drunken revellers no doubt. I leap to my feet, glancing at the clock on my mantelpiece. It’s past twelve o’clock. I have no idea how long I’ve been dozing. Quietly, I walk upstairs to check up on Mia. She looks peaceful lying on my bed, asleep under her soft cream blanket, her breathing steady, and for a moment I’m reminded of Beth as a little girl. I kiss her cheek and stroke her hair. I know I shouldn’t disturb her, but I can’t help myself, and when she slowly opens her eyes she treats me to the most beautiful smile.

  Thirty minutes later I open my front door to Ricky and Shelley, both wearing grins on their faces as they come inside.

  ‘Mia’s asleep. What’s the joke?’ I ask.

  ‘Peggy,’ Ricky says, ‘you won’t believe this, but Shelley was dumb enough to say yes. We’re getting married!’

  I look over to Shelley and she nods. ‘Wish me luck,’ she jokes.

  ‘You won’t need it. This calls for a celebration,’ I say, rushing to the kitchen to find a bottle of something, Ricky following me, me calling out to Shelley to sit down, that I want to hear all about it. Flo taught me always to keep a bottle of champagne in my fridge, as you never know when you might need it, and tonight seems to call for it.

  ‘I didn’t think you believed in marriage,’ I whisper, as Ricky reaches for the glasses.

  ‘Nor did I.’ He shrugs. ‘I think I’ve realized, more than ever before, we only get one life, one shot. I love her and I want us to be a family. Anyway . . .’ He claps his hand as if he doesn’t want to scare himself by thinking about the commitment, before we join Shelley, talking and laughing until the early hours of the morning, taking our glasses into the garden to watch the local fireworks.

  I realize it’s the first time since Tim died that I’ve seen the New Year in, and how special it is to spend it with my new friends.

  71

  Flo

  It’s four in the morning when finally I crawl into bed. James was right. A run was never going to be on the cards today. I smile, remembering us dancing, calling ourselves Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.

  I hear a knock on the door and for a moment my heart stops, until I hear Maddie whisper, ‘Flo? Are you awake?’ She enters my room in her pyjamas and flops down on the other side of my bed.

  ‘That was such a fun evening,’ I say, realizing it’s the first time I’ve truly let my hair down in months. If I could, I’d rewind and have the night all over again, even the mad casting lesson on the lawn, but nothing surprises me when it comes to the eccentric Baileys.

  ‘I love your family,’ I say. ‘I might have to borrow your parents from time to time.’

  ‘I think they’d love to adopt you too.’ She turns over on to her side, to face me. ‘You and James seem close?’

  I nod, somehow sensing this conversation was brewing. ‘He’s been great, Maddie, really supportive.’

  ‘What’s Chloe like?’

  ‘Haven’t met her.’

  She sighs, staring up to the ceiling. She seems restless. ‘Sometimes I feel cut off living out of London.’

  ‘But you love it where you are.’

  ‘I know, but when you were going through everything, I felt pretty useless. I couldn’t
pop over to see you as much as I wanted.’

  ‘I wasn’t great company.’

  ‘You know what I mean, Flo.’

  ‘You were on the end of a telephone line.’

  ‘But it’s not the same. I’ve thought about moving back, especially with this new job.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I couldn’t afford it. I work all these bloody hours and get paid practically nothing. People think if you work in theatre it’s a privilege, a hobby. Are you sure you want to get back into it?’

  I sit up. ‘Maddie, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Sorry, ignore me. I’m tired, that’s all, and my head is hurting. Self-induced pain. I’m a spotty old cow too.’

  ‘I can’t see a single spot.’

  She points to her chin. ‘Here. And I’ve put on far too much weight.’

  ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘I’m single, fat and spotty and I live with a cat,’ she laughs at herself.

  ‘You’re beautiful and talented and one day you’ll meet someone.’

  ‘You sound like Mum. “Your time will come”,’ she mimics. ‘ “Your boat will come in”. Well, I wish the boat would stop chugging along and get a move on.’

  ‘I’m single and live with your smelly old brother,’ I remind her.

  ‘You two have become really close, haven’t you?’ she asks me again.

  I realize from the tone of Maddie’s voice I need to be clever with my words. ‘He’s been a good friend when I’ve needed one. You both have.’

  She shakes her head, as if ashamed of herself. ‘I’m sorry, Flo. You’ve had so much to deal with lately, and here I am moaning about not having a man in my life, and a few spots.’

  ‘Moan away. God knows, I’ve done it enough to last a lifetime.’

  ‘I love my brother.’

  I wait.

  ‘He’s always been the apple of my parents’ eye, the boy who can do no wrong, following in Dad’s footsteps. The clever one.’

  ‘You’re clever.’

  ‘In an artistic way, but that doesn’t count in our family.’

  ‘It does. Look at you! You’re only working for the National Theatre. This year you’re going to see your name, “Madeleine Bailey, Set and Costume Designer”, in a big bold font in their programme.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she says, as if she needed to hear me say that. ‘But you and James—’

  ‘There’s nothing going on,’ I reassure her, ‘honestly, nothing.’

  ‘Are you sure? I mean there might not be for you, but I’ve noticed the way he looks at you—’

  ‘I really meant it when I said I don’t want to be in relationship right now, and it’s James,’ I say, as much to myself as to Maddie. ‘He’s like family.’

  ‘I know. Sorry. It would be weird, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Very,’ I say, wondering what it could be like, because when Lucy mentioned James should travel I noticed I didn’t like it. I hated it, in fact.

  ‘I’m glad you’re not into him,’ Maddie continues, ‘because I’d be piggy in the middle and I wouldn’t be able to forgive him if he hurt you.’

  I nod.

  ‘He stuffs up all his relationships too,’ Maddie says, on a roll now. ‘I don’t know why he left Emma.’

  ‘Maybe he didn’t love her enough? Sometimes it takes courage to walk away.’

  For a moment I think of Theo, wondering if it was brave of him to be honest right from the start, saying he couldn’t be the man I wanted him to be. I want to imagine it wasn’t an easy decision to call our engagement off, and that occasionally he does think of me, as I think of him. I don’t hate him anymore for what he did. Nor do I believe he set out to hurt me. He would have hurt me more in the long run if he hadn’t been true to himself, and had deserted me the moment I discovered I tested positive. Or if he’d left me when I could no longer work, or hang on to my independence.

  Theo and I spent eighteen happy, carefree months together, months I don’t regret anymore, since I now realize it could have never worked between us. I think of Mum and Mark, how she completely let him into her life. He knew everything about her, warts and all, and he still loved her. If only he’d been free to be with her. Selfishly, I wish he’d left his wife.

  ‘Maybe,’ Maddie says. ‘I just think he’s a commitment freak, which is why I don’t want him anywhere near you.’

  ‘Stop panicking. It’s not going to happen,’ I say, trying to disguise my confusion that there was a flicker of disappointment when I realized it wasn’t James knocking on my door tonight, disappointment followed swiftly by relief.

  I can see why I’d be the last person Maddie would want her brother to date, and the last thing I want to do is play Russian roulette with two of my closest friends.

  72

  Flo

  It’s now February, and Iona and I are on a sixteen-mile run this morning, heading towards Hyde Park. We’ve progressed to an improver programme and have eight weeks to go until we approach the start line. Just the idea of it makes me feel sick with nerves, but at the same time it’s the most important thing in my life.

  I spend a good chunk of my day, even at work, checking my sponsorship page to see how close – currently 52 per cent – I am to my £2,000 target. If I can do this, surely I can do anything, I tell myself. It’s also a big reason why I can’t seem to have energy to devote to make a final decision whether I want to take the test or not. My counselling has been pushed to the back of the queue for now, Dr Fraser saying her door is always open when I need to talk about it again.

  ‘How much have you raised?’ I ask Iona, as we run through St James’s Park.

  ‘About a grand so far. People say they’ll sponsor you, but then you check . . . and you can’t really ask them again, can you?’

  ‘No. Well, depends who it is, I guess.’

  ‘I’m knackered,’ she admits. ‘I need to sit down.’

  Iona and I are desperately trying not to stop and start anymore. If you walk it only makes it harder to start running again. ‘Holy shit, Flo, when does this get easier?’ Iona groans. ‘I shouldn’t have gone out last night. Bet you were in bed tucked up.’

  ‘I stayed in with James.’

  ‘I still don’t know why you two aren’t together.’

  ‘I do: he’s a friend and he’s with someone.’

  Though in the end I confide to Iona about New Year and how close to him I’d felt at his parents’ house.

  ‘I might be paranoid,’ I say, ‘but I feel as if something’s changed: it’s almost as if he’s avoiding me. Last night was the first time in weeks that we’ve spent the evening together.’ I’ve also noticed we’ve been calling and texting each other far less.

  ‘Avoidance is a sure sign,’ Iona says. ‘He’s probably just as confused as you are.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, begrudgingly admitting that there is a tiny part of me that’s jealous of Chloe, even if I have no right to be.

  ‘I’d be jealous too,’ Iona insists. ‘She’s with your man.’

  ‘Oh, stop it,’ I say, thinking of Maddie too. I’ve got to put to bed the absurd idea that James and I could be anything more than friends.

  ‘How are we going to raise the cash?’ I ask, changing the subject. I’ve asked all the usual suspects and they’ve all been incredibly generous, but I need more.

  ‘If only we had some rich rellies,’ Iona sighs.

  ‘If only.’

  ‘Maybe the Queen will sponsor us,’ she suggests as we run past the gates of Buckingham Palace. ‘Listen, maybe talk to James?’

  ‘No way! I’m not even sure how I feel.’

  ‘You’re scared – that’s what you’re feeling – because this could be real.’

  I stop running. ‘I’m not scared. I’m probably reading way too much into it. I know he’s been busy at work—’

  ‘That old chestnut.’

  ‘It’s true,’ I call after her. ‘His job is stressful.’

  Iona stops running and turns t
o face me. ‘Admit it, Flo: you’re scared.’

  ‘And I’ve been really busy training and—’

  ‘I get it’s a risk falling for your best friend.’

  ‘I’m not falling for him,’ I insist. I can’t be.

  ‘You’ve got a lot to lose, but if you do or say nothing, in my book, that’s a far bigger risk to take.’

  73

  Beth’s Diary, 2011

  I still haven’t told Flo. She’s in her second year at art school and seems to have found a real niche in model making. She can make, on a tiny scale, pieces of furniture or other props for the stage. She once showed me a racing car that was smaller than the size of her thumb.

  ‘I spent hours hunched over my chair and this is all I have to show for it, Mum, this teeny-weenie little car,’ she’d said. The detail was exquisite, from the seats to the steering wheel and the handbrake made out of a filed cocktail stick. Her art teacher has inspired her to dream of working with directors across the globe, designing stage sets for theatre.

  She has such a promising future ahead of her – what’s the point of me bursting her bubble right now?

  I want her college years to be the happiest of her life, not filled with dread and doubt that could affect her work. If I tell her now she might even drop out, and I’d never forgive myself for that. I don’t want anything to jeopardize her chance of finishing her course. After she’s graduated, that’s the time to say something. Or the moment my symptoms become too obvious to ignore. No more excuses. All I can do is pray she’ll understand, and that she’ll forgive me.

  Just heading out to meet Mark now for coffee, will write more later . . .

  Mark and I just had a huge row. Things have been strained enough between us; feelings always get in the way of a friendship.

  ‘You’re always making excuses,’ he said to me over our coffee. ‘If it’s not Flo’s birthday then it’s her exams, or you can’t say anything because she’s just broken up with a boyfriend. What’s it going to be next? She lands her dream job so you can’t say a word? Face it, Beth, this isn’t about finding a good time anymore, you’re just fucking scared.’

  I was so angry I could have hit him. ‘Yes, yes, I am scared. I’m terrified. But how about you Mark?’