Going Home (34 page)

I walked towards the house, not bothering to acknowledge Miles as I overtook him on the gravel path. I went to my room, my comforting old room, and all of a sudden I saw what Mum and Chin had been hinting at: that it had been less vital to save Keeper House than I’d thought. Humans and relationships are more important than homes, and while I couldn’t have been happier that the house was ours again, I saw how much time and energy I’d spent living in a dreamworld about it when I should have hunted David down, begged him to talk to me about what had gone wrong. We were stupid, both of us, the way Mike was stupid; we had put our heads in the sand and hoped everything bad would go away; we blamed ourselves but took no action. I’d spent hours wishing and hoping we could avoid the sale of the house, praying it wouldn’t happen, mooning over old napkins, dusty books and fond memories. Well, Keeper House had been saved in the end, but by Chin, whose outlook on life was different from mine. I sat on the bed. It was too late for anyone to do anything about me and David, and the person I was now was too different from the girl I’d been then for the gap to be breached.

The band were still in full swing: no one would notice that I wasn’t there and I knew Tom would make any excuses. I shut the window, brushed my teeth, put on my nightie and curled up in the chair. I didn’t want to go to
bed: I just wanted to be by myself. I stayed in that chair for what seemed like hours, looking at nothing, thinking about everything.

I’m ashamed to say I felt rather sorry for myself and cried myself to sleep. Happily no one noticed I wasn’t there. Jess snogged a waiter, Rosalie led the demand for a band encore, and Chin and Gibbo danced in each other’s arms until the sun came up and the house cast its long, friendly shadow across the marquee.

When I woke up, the sun was shining through the gap in the curtains. The diamond-shaped leading in the windows cast distorted patterns on the floorboards. I shut my eyes again. I felt as if I had been hit over the head with a hammer, made to run a marathon, then put forward for eyelid testing, which involved my eyelids being puffed-up with a syringe to nine times their normal size and weight. It was a hangover, of course, but often you can drink all night and wake up feeling relatively fresh because you have had a hilarious, raucous evening. I reopened one eyelid. The sun patterns on the floor were dancing. I groaned.

I opened both eyes carefully, and rolled my gaze out across the floor. There were some brown kitten heels, lying askew under the chair. Suddenly, like Bobbie’s daddy appearing through the swirling mist at the end of
The Railway Children
, a picture of the previous day emerged. The shoe strap that hurt on the way back from Chin’s wedding. The house – saved. My speech. Rosalie’s rose-pink taffeta outfit. Miles – God, Miles: I wasn’t going out with him any more. And then I remembered. David hadn’t slept with anyone else.

David hadn’t slept with anyone else!

I sat bolt upright in bed, which sent me into a relapse. My arms ached, my ribcage hurt, my legs felt lumpen and bloated, so I lay down again. I hadn’t dreamed it, had I? Miles had lied to me. And David had said he loved me. We shouldn’t have broken up. Hope glared in my heart. Ouch, my head was aching again, as if I was thinking clearly for the first time in months and I’d forgotten how to do it.

Whatever had happened yesterday, I felt as though something had changed irrevocably. As if I’d look out of the window and find the house had blown out of Kansas and into Munchkinland. I couldn’t face sitting up but I wanted to get up. I wrapped myself in my duvet, like a sausage roll, and got completely tangled in it. How long I would have stayed there I have no idea, because at that moment I heard a tentative knock on the door.

‘Lizzy?’

‘Tom!’

The door opened a crack. I wriggled and managed to free an arm. ‘Help me, I’m stuck,’ I said pathetically.

Tom crouched and moved his head to one side so I could see his face.

‘Hello,’ he said, rather stiffly. ‘Are you OK now?’

‘I can’t unravel myself,’ I said. ‘I’m hiding.’

Tom coughed politely. ‘Well, after your performance last night, I’m not bloody surprised. Who are you hiding from?’ he asked, turning me over like a Swiss roll and freeing the edge of the duvet. ‘Has Miles reappeared? David? Or even Jaden? Or some other, as yet unknown to me, paramour?’

‘No.’ I sat up. ‘Thanks. I’ll come down in five minutes.’

‘Good. Chin and Gibbo are going. I came to see if you wanted to say goodbye.’ He patted my arm. ‘You look terrible. Did you get any sleep?’

‘Yes. No. Not really.’

‘Well, this sounds trite but—’

‘At least it’s all sorted out now,’ I finished.

Tom stared. ‘That’s what I was about to say.’

‘That’s why I said it.’ I got out of bed. ‘I’ll be down in five, I promise.’

‘Are you—’ Tom began.

‘I’m fine,’ I said coolly. ‘I’m not going to repeat my behaviour of last night, don’t worry. That’s all finished.’

‘Right,’ Tom said. ‘See you downstairs, then?’

‘Absolutely,’ I said. The door slammed behind him.

‘Lizzy!’ Chin called as Tom and I trotted feebly down the stairs. ‘Darling, I didn’t want to get you up.’ As I descended the final two steps she jumped up to kiss me. She looked fantastic – clear-skinned, bright-eyed, incredibly happy. She was dressed in a beautiful kaftan, embroidered with gold thread, and some loose trousers, like an advert for a bride off on holiday to a boutique hotel in Marrakech – which was, of course, the case.

‘Morning, you two,’ said Mum, from the bottom of the stairs. She had no makeup on and her fluffy hair was sticking up on end, making her look like a surprised cockatoo.

‘Morning,’ Tom and I muttered.

There was an air of anticlimax in the hall, a bit like New Year’s Day. Dad and Jess looked tired but chirpy. Mike had apparently gone ten rounds with Lennox Lewis and was using his eye pouches to store loose change. Rosalie, of course, was as fresh as a daisy, succulent as roast chicken, with her arm threaded through Mike’s, smiling at everyone.

‘Is Mum here?’ Tom said.

‘No,’ my mother told him. ‘She’s coming over for lunch. Right, you two, are you ready to go?’

‘I think we are,’ Chin said, as Gibbo appeared from the car where he’d been stowing the last of the luggage, as any
married man should. ‘Oh, Suzy,’ she said, hugging Mum hard, ‘thank you so much, for everything.’

‘Well, you too,’ said Mum. ‘Darling Chin.’ She sniffed surreptitiously.

‘You all right, Lizzy?’ Chin said. ‘I didn’t see much of you last night. What happened? Did you and Miles go off somewhere?’

‘They left early,’ said Tom, truthfully.

‘You two, eh?’ said Gibbo, as if Miles and I were a well-known, long-established couple who were notorious for sneaking out of events ahead of schedule.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Have you got everything?’

Gibbo hugged me, then shook hands with Tom. ‘See you soon, mate. I’ll give you a call when we’re back, yeah?’ Tom and I stepped back gratefully as Gibbo moved along the line to Rosalie and Mike. ‘Hey, Mike, take care of this gorgeous gal, won’t you? Let’s go dancing when you’re next in the country, Rozzer. Throw some shapes down.’

‘Sure thing,’ Rosalie said, laughing. ‘Bless you both. G’bye, Chin,’ she added.

Chin kissed her. ‘’Bye,’ she said, and paused in front of Mike. ‘’Bye, bro,’ she said softly.

Mike had been standing there in a light doze, his chin in his hand, but at the sound of his sister’s voice he started awake. ‘Ah, Chin! You off, then?’

‘Yes,’ said Chin. There was a clattering sound from upstairs, and a scream followed by a wail.

‘Mando’s still here?’ I said.

‘He’s coming with us,’ Chin said. ‘I’m putting him in the back and if he says a word he’s going in the boot.’

‘Don’t go!’ Mando yelled, from upstairs. ‘Give me time!’

‘For God’s sake,’ Chin muttered. She turned back to Mike. ‘Well, ‘bye, then. See you…at Christmas, I suppose.’

‘Yup,’ Mike said. Rosalie nudged him. He stood up a bit
straighter. ‘Why don’t you and Gibbo come over for a bit, though? Stay with us. We’d love that. Show you the sights. All that sort of thing.’

‘We’ll think about it,’ Chin said solemnly. ‘’Bye Mike.’

Mike stepped forward suddenly. ‘’Bye, sis. Lots of love.’ He threw his arms round her and lifted her a foot off the ground. Then he carried her outside, put her into the car, as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers, bent down and kissed her. ‘Sorry,’ I heard him mumble. Chin caught his head as he leaned into the car and they stayed like that for a while, till Mum and Mando appeared and we all went outside.

‘Oh, Mando, goodbye,’ Mum said.

‘Suzy, oh, Suzy,’ Mando said tragically. He was wearing a tight pink polo shirt and checked golfing trousers. ‘I will see you next month, yes?’

‘What for?’ asked Dad, with interest.

‘The sales,’ Mum said severely. ‘You wouldn’t like it. Oh bye, Mando, do take care, thank you for everything.’

‘No, thank you,’ said Mando simply. ‘It has been wonderful. You are a lovely family.’

Mike stood up and joined Rosalie. Tom, Jess and I stood along the hedgerow, in the shade.

‘Goodbye,’ Mando said, disentangling himself from my mother. ‘Good luck with things,’ he said to us. ‘Tom, you are an excellent
omosessuale.
Jess, you are an excellent painting. Painter.
Bene.
Lizzy, you are excellent – I am sure at many things.’

‘Come on, M,’ Gibbo said, like somebody’s dad. ‘We’re leaving now. OK? Get in.’

Chin leaned out of the window. ‘Thank you so much, everyone. See you in a couple of weeks!’

‘Have a wonderful time,’ we chorused, as Gibbo started the car.

‘ ’Bye,’ Chin called, as they drove away. ‘ ’Bye – love you all.’

As they drove off, Mando yelled something, then threw out all the left-over rose petals. They gusted up into the air, and floated down on us as we stood and waved.

‘Typical Mando,’ said Jess. ‘I’ve never met someone who had no other use except being decorative. But who’ll clear this all up, may I ask?’ she said, pointing to the petals.

‘I will,’ Mum said quietly. ‘I miss him already. My new best friend.’ She sighed as the car rounded the corner and disappeared.

I felt melancholy all of a sudden. ‘When were you thinking of going back, Tom?’ I said, as we went into the side-room, where breakfast was ready.

‘I wanted to get back before lunch.’ He sat down, then poured himself and me some coffee. ‘Do you want a lift?’

‘Why before lunch?’ I said.

‘I’m going out tonight and I need to do some work before then,’ Tom said.

‘Where are you going?’ I said nosily.

‘Just out,’ Tom replied.

I was sure it must be a date but I said nothing: I reminded myself that from now on I was a mature, discreet person who did not prod for vulgar details.

‘Mike and I were planning on leaving after tea,’ Rosalie said, ‘so I guess we can both say goodbye to Kate.’ She reached for the jam.

Mike looked up at his wife, an unreadable glance, then gazed back at his lap.

‘Can’t we, Mike?’ Rosalie continued.

‘Sure,’ he said, and reached for the paper.

She knows, I thought. That’s why she wants him to say goodbye to Kate. He needs to.

‘Then I want to go to the airport via Stonehenge,’ Rosalie
continued. ‘My gosh, it’ll probably be the oldest thing I’ve ever seen.’ She took a bite of toast.

‘What about your first husband?’ Mike said, a faint glimmer in his eyes.

‘What about my third husband?’ Rosalie countered, munching toast, glinting back at him. ‘I’m going to finish our packing,’ she said after a pause, standing up and collecting her things together.

‘I’ll come and give you a hand,’ Mike said. ‘I’ll get the pictures and put them in the car.’

He was taking a couple back with him for their apartment. He said he wanted something to remind him of home. Rosalie had examined them on Friday afternoon with her portable magnifying-glass – for all the good it’d do her: they were Edwin Walter’s London print series and not up to much. I could see her in her apartment, waving her hand at them in a
faux-casual
manner as she ushered guests past them into the lounge that overlooked Central Park. ‘Those? Yes, they are beautiful, aren’t they? They’re from my husband’s family home in England. Edwin Walter was his ancestor. Yes. I know. It’s a beautiful place, quite old. Queen Elizabeth the First. We’re hoping to go back for Christmas again this year.’

They went out, and Mike put his arm round Rosalie’s shoulders as they receded into the corridor.

‘Lizzy,’ said my mother suddenly, from the other end of the table, ‘I meant to say yesterday but I couldn’t find you. Well, your father and I wanted to say it, really.’

Dad looked alarmed. He picked up a spoon and bashed his boiled egg with unusual vehemence.

‘What?’ I said.

‘Well, about Miles. Darling, I’m sorry.’

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I said.

‘We think he’s great.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, grabbing more toast.

Tom said, ‘Suzy…’

‘Well, he is,’ Mum continued. ‘And I wanted to tell you. Because you know we weren’t very supportive when you told us on Wednesday. I suppose it was a bit of a shock. And because of David – we did love him, you know. But Daddy says he was behaving most oddly last night. Swearing and – well…’

‘Thanks a lot, Mum,’ I said, because I appreciated the gesture. Jess was knitting her figures together helplessly. ‘Actually,’ I said, ‘Miles and I split up last night, I’m afraid, so don’t worry about it too much.’

‘What?’ said my mother. ‘You split up? What does that mean?’

I glared at her. ‘It means…we’re not together any more.’

‘Oh,’ said Mum, discomfited. ‘Oh, darling.’

‘Really, don’t worry about it, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’m fine, honestly. They’re both mad. And weird. And not for me.’

‘So you’re sure neither of them will do for you?’ said Mum, hopefully.

‘Nope,’ I said, reaching for the Marmite. ‘Yes, I mean. I’m safe, sane and single, and I’m staying that way. For the moment, anyway. Roll on LA and m’ future husband George Clooney.’

‘Well,’ said Dad, from behind his
Observer
, ‘she’s certainly given it her best shot with each of them. We can’t expect any more from her, can we? Any cousins of theirs we should know about? What’s their father up to, these days? He should watch out. I might have to have a word with him to warn him off.’

‘Dad!’ Jess and I yelled.

‘John,’ Mum murmured reproachfully. ‘Well, that’s that, then. But you’ll still be friends, won’t you?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Absolutely no.’

‘No way,’ Tom and Jess chorused.

‘Dear me,’ Mum said. She looked at each of us in alarm. ‘What did they do?’

‘Well,’ I said. My brain started to hum confusedly. Dad had put down the paper. Mum was looking on expectantly. Tom jumped in helpfully.

‘Miles has always had the horn for Lizzy. I mean, he thinks he’s in love with her. He lied to her to get her to break up with David, he did the same to David, then he was all “Oh, Lizzy, I understand what you’re going through. Let me take you out for expensive meals and make you laugh and soothe away your problems, so you’ll think you like me, and then I’ll pounce and have my own way and get to shag you.’” He assumed a high falsetto: ‘And Lizzy’s all “Oh, Miles, you are a bit like David. I’m all confused, go on, shag me, and at least I’ll have a boyfriend for Chin’s wedding, and David will be pissed off, ha, ooh, it’s all so complicated.”’

‘Tom, don’t be vile,’ Jess said warmly. ‘That’s not how it was.’

‘Really?’ said Mum, turning sunken eyes on her younger daughter.

Dad coughed, and stroked the table.

‘No,’ Jess said. ‘It wasn’t like that at all.’

‘Thanks, Jess,’ I said. ‘I love you.’

‘It was more “Ooh, David, I love you, I love you, I love you! Ooh, David, I hate you now, oh, you’re so mean, I’m going to cry all the time and get nothing done for months and months. Ooh, David! You’re horrid! Oh, no, you’re not, you’re great!”’