Falling in Love Again (38 page)

Six Months Later
Session Eleven: How Are You Getting On?

Just a quick reminder to everyone about next Tuesday night. It’s our six month reunion – remember? – and I hope you’ll all be able to come round to my place as usual. Bring a bottle if you want.

Bye for now! Karen.

PS. You might be wondering what the plastic fork is doing inside this envelope. It’s a sign of hope! You’ve all had a taster of what life can be like on your own. But the fork means that before long, you’ll be able to really tuck in – and enjoy whatever ‘meal’ that life throws at you! And remember! As Anna Raeburn said on the radio, the other day: ‘Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want -  and that’s how you learn!’

52

LIZZIE

‘Now are you sure you’ll be all right?’

Lars nodded. ‘Do not worry. Pliz. You must go and enjoy yourself.’ He grinned. A big, warm, floppy grin that matched his sun-kissed locks. Once more, Lizzie couldn’t believe her luck. How many men like him were there? And to think he had chosen her!

‘We are going to be having big fun and games while you are away.’

She wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Scandinavians were extremely good at some things (especially certain things she couldn’t possibly mention!) but they didn’t seem to have the same inhibitions as the British.

‘What sort of fun and games?’

She shouldn’t pry. He’d think she didn’t trust him. Although, after Tom, it wouldn’t be surprising. That’s what Lars had said when she’d told him the full story soon after meeting. Not that she’d meant to. She’d tried to hold back but when he’d looked at her with that melting look and asked her to tell him about her life, now he had told her about his, she had let it all come out.

Lars waved a hand dismissively in the air. His other hand was on the Wee box. ‘Football perhaps. Maybe a cycle ride.’

Cycle ride? ‘Make sure they wear their helmets, won’t you? They’re in the . . .’

‘Understairs cuppy hole,’ he finished for her.

Thanks to Lars, they’d all learned to relax a bit. Even when Jack had had his birthday party the other week and they’d all played hide and seek in the dark at the birthday boy’s insistence. ‘Ugh! Someone had screamed. ‘I’ve trodden in something yuk!’

The ‘yuk’ turned out to be a pool of vomit (that was the last time she’d try to make a cake) and just as the discovery was made, the door bell had rung. It had been one of the parents, arriving early.

Even now, she flushed with embarrassment as she recalled how Lars had acted as a decoy and distracted the B in B (who’d actually become quite a good friend in the last few months) with a large G and T in the kitchen. ‘They are just feenishing off a game,’ she had heard him telling her. ‘Pliz. Another glass? You are not driving. No?’

It had just – only just – bought her enough time to mop up and bribe the culprit with another piece of vomit-inducing cake so she didn’t tell tales later on.

Yup! Lars really was an unexpected gift. He was also, as she confessed to her  PA in the office, surprisingly good at . . .

‘Aren’t you going out?’

Sophie interrupted her train of thought (what was new?) with a pouting expression made even more violent by a gash of red lipstick. For her daughter’s last birthday, Sharon had bought her a make up lesson (thank you, Sharon) without her approval. The result was that Sophie now refused to go out of the house with anything less than two coats on.

If this had happened a few months ago, she’d have had a go at Tom. But frankly, she’d learned it wasn’t worth it. Don’t sweat the small stuff, Alison had said when she’d rung her at the time. Only make a stand about big things. Like maintenance, which they were still sorting out. Still, they were just about getting by thanks to her job and Lars. Things were tight but providing nothing ghastly happened, they could make do.

‘Yes, I am going out,’ she replied to Sophie’s question. ‘But I won’t be late. So make sure you do what Lars tells you to.’

Sophie flashed Lars a definite flutter of the eyelashes and Lizzie’s chest did a little dive. Had she been wise to introduce a man so soon?

‘Do not worry,’ boomed Lars. ‘There will be no problems. She will do her rude work and Jack will do his as well.’

Rude work?

Sophie sniggered. ‘I tried explaining what course work was to Lars but he didn’t understand so I told him to Google the word ‘course’ and he spelt it all wrong so it came up with ‘coarse’.’

Lars was frowning. ‘I say it wrong, yes?’

Lizzie slipped on a jacket. ‘It doesn’t matter, Lars. Honestly. Do I look OK?’

She had meant the question to be directed at Sophie but Lars took it seriously. ‘You look extremely attractive.’

She glowed. Funny. She’d suddenly gone clean off chocolate since the last time she’d seen Tom. And although she hadn’t lost any weight, she hadn’t put on any more either.

Sophie nodded. ‘You look OK. Aren’t those jeans mine?’

‘Sorry.’

‘Well don’t spill anything on them.’

‘Promise.’

She held out her cheek for Sophie to kiss and only just stopped herself from doing the same to Lars, out of habit.

Hang on. Something was missing. Jack! Where was he?

‘Feeding Fish and Shits,’ said Lars solemnly.

Really? Goodness. He really was becoming quite responsible. Maybe, if they were very good, they might move onto something bigger afterwards. The goldfish had replaced the virtual fleas which had thankfully died off, according to Jack. And at least the goldfish had stopped him talking about shitzoos.

‘See you later! Bye!’

ALISON

Had she done the right thing? They’d want to know at the meeting tonight if she had done it. At the time, it had seemed insane when Ed had first come up with it, just before she’d left the island to go home. But the more Alison thought about it, the more it had made sense. After all, Ed was speaking from a man’s point of view, as she’d told Caroline. And that was something that neither of them had got right.

‘Go and see him?’ Caroline had said incredulously on the mobile when she had rung on the way back, before getting home and finding David. ‘Why the hell would I want to do that?’

Alison had been expecting a similar response. Caroline could only ever see things from her point of view. Had been like that since a child. But she was her sister. She had to be there for her. And if the healing process involved making peace with the people whom you’d hurt, maybe they should both listen to that.

‘You need to say sorry. You need to tell him that you are sorry for having an affair with him even though – yes I know –  it takes two to tango.’

‘And do I have to mention his weirdo brother-in-law who tried to seduce you, as well as me?’

‘You don’t have to. But you ought to say you heard his wife died and that you’re sorry.’

‘He’ll think I’m trying to make a pass at him again.’

‘Then you’ll have to make it clear you’re not.’

Caroline sounded quiet. ‘You know. He was the only man I really loved. That was the irony.’

Love! That was one word she’d never heard her sister use. ‘So why did you leave him.’

An even quieter voice this time. ‘Because I’d spoken to his wife. And because I was scared of getting committed, I suppose. I didn’t want to be responsible for . . . for a marriage break up.’

‘Then why did you always go for married men?’

‘Precisely because they don’t leave their wives, Alison. Don’t you see?  But Bruce broke the rules. So I ran.’

‘And then his wife couldn’t cope so she . . .’

‘Stop. I can’t handle the guilt trip now. All right. I’ll go. Well, I’ll ring him anyway.’

‘Will you let me know what happens?’

‘Don’t push me, Alison.’

So she’d left it. And then she’d come back to find David. David! A surprisingly good looking David without the creases of worry on his face and a tan which he’d apparently got from back-packing round Spain the previous week.

‘What, with your weird flatmates?’ she had retorted.

He’d looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t see them any more. When they started pushing me for a contribution, as they put it, I began to get cold feet. They were meant to be beyond all that materialism stuff and yet they still kept saying I had to sell the house. I didn’t like to think of you having to manage in a smaller place.’

She’d walked past him and put the kettle on. ‘Actually, David. It’s too late. I’ve decided I do want to sell. I need a new start.’

He’d looked alarmed. Scared. Something she’d never seen David look before. He’d always been so confident. Arrogant even. ‘Please, Alison. Don’t. I know I’ve behaved like a complete rat but give me another chance. Please?’

So she’d promised to think about it. Had done nothing else. Start again. Take him back. Sell. Not sell. Nothing made sense. And now she was hoping that the group might help her see things in perspective. She certainly couldn’t. Not on her own.

ED

‘How about Tuesday?’ September put her head to one side the way she did when pretending to think about something when she’d actually already made up her mind.

‘I prefer Friday.’

‘Not Wednesday?’

‘Too dull.’

Ed ran his finger over September’s tummy for the hundredth time that day. He never tired of it. Feeling his son – or daughter – who was somehow lurking under September’s very slightly rounded tummy. Even Giles, who was at this moment in a wine bar with Jamie for the fourth time this month, had told him that if he didn’t shut up for a bit, he wouldn’t babysit when his half-brother or sister finally arrived.

‘All right. Tuesday it is.’ He bent down to kiss her tummy button. ‘But I warn you. I want a week’s worth before our tenth wedding anniversary.’

‘Seven daughters!’ She giggled. ‘The weddings will cost a fortune.’

They both knew that didn’t matter thanks to the old man’s legacy. But at least he knew that September wasn’t after his money, otherwise she wouldn’t have taken so much persuading to get pregnant in the first place.

He continued stroking her tummy; something he never tired of doing. ‘Sure you don’t mind me leaving you for an evening?’

‘Course not, silly.’ She laughed. ‘I told you. My sisters are coming round to keep me company.’

Ah. The sisters! When September had first introduced him to her family – the Sunday after the Isle of Wight weekend – he had been terrified. Especially when it came to her father whom September clearly idolised. ‘Don’t worry,’ she had trilled on their last night in the cottage. ‘They know everything. Including all your ex-wives and how Lizzie said she was your girlfriend. Much better to be open from the beginning. Don’t you think?’

Actually, there are exceptions.

‘And I thought I ought to tell them about Tatiana being a pretend you-know-what, so they didn’t blame you for the last break up.’

She had given him a quick squeeze which immediately sent his blood racing. That night had been so amazing that he wasn’t even sure it had really happened. Yet it must have done because he could remember every detail; the memory made him melt just like that squeeze. Just like the sound of her voice . . .

‘What makes you so sure?’ she had demanded when he had told her how he felt when they were lying on his bed. ‘You probably tell every girl they are different from the one before.’

He’d asked himself the same question. Which was why he knew the answer. ‘Because you’re on the same wavelength. And because I just can’t get you out of my mind. Never have been able to from the minute you first said hello. Nancy says it’s a sign.’

‘Nancy?’ She had pretended to frown. ‘Let’s see. Is she another girlfriend. Oh no. I forgot. That’s the beautiful stepmother isn’t it?’ She giggled. ‘Goodness we’re going to have fun on Sunday!’

And amazingly they did. September and her sisters and parents lived in one of those five-storey Victorian terraces which proved to be much bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. Her father’s looks were also deceptive. At first glance, he looked like one of those hard criminals on
The Bill
even though he was apparently a barrister. ‘So Ed, I gather you’re interested in my daughter,’ was his first comment after he’d nearly broken his hand in a welcoming handshake.

Ed steeled himself to look September’s father straight in the eye. ‘Yes, sir.’

The old man continued to gaze directly at him without correcting the ‘sir’ bit or inviting him to call him by his first name (which he knew was Alastair). ‘I only ask one thing of my daughter’s boyfriends. And that’s that they treat them properly. If not, you will know about it.’

Keep looking at him. Don’t listen to September’s giggles or those of her sisters who were all, as far as he could see, smaller clones of her. ‘Quite right, sir.’

‘Good.’

At last he was looking away.

‘Then we’ll eat.’ He looked up at his wife, another September look alike. Was it possible to have five beauties in one family considering the father looked like a human bulldog? ‘Are you ready, dear?’

Ed had expected September’s mother (‘Call me Betty, dear’) to start bringing in the food but instead, they all sat down while Alastair did it.

‘Dad’s a great cook,’ whispered September. ‘Mummy’s hopeless.’

More giggles.

By the end of the evening, he couldn’t exactly say that he and Sir were friends but the atmosphere had become decidedly lighter, especially when he joined in the family game of Scrabble which was something they all did as a tradition every evening.

‘It’s good for the brain,’ Alastair had announced.

‘What he really means is that he hates losing,’ beamed Betty. ‘So do try, dear. September’s last boyfriend was absolutely hopeless.’