Miss You (39 page)

None of them knew that I was in love. Just recently, though, I’d occasionally caught myself wondering if it was only a pretend relationship, the dilapidated hut a kind of grown-up Wendy
house where we role-played being a proper couple. Instead of a kitchen we had a single Calor gas burner; instead of a bedroom we had an old mattress; instead of watching telly together we read
musty-smelling orange Penguins, their pages brown with age, and I fussed around, making mugs of tea and anxiously hoping to inspire Leo. Did we fool the City couple, Marcus and Keiko, in the
converted hut next door, all glass and Porcelanosa, who came down from London for weekends with their cute half-English, half-Japanese children? Was it obvious that I was Leo’s mistress?

I’d been so swept up in the romantic impossibility of our love, believing our time together more piquant than other couples’, that the question of why it had to be like this
hadn’t really occurred to me before. Now that Hope was growing up and Leo’s kids had left home – one was doing a Masters at Stanford University in California, one was earning a
fortune as City actuary, a job that Leo claimed to despise, but often boasted about to Marcus – why shouldn’t we begin to think about our future, or at least do something together like
a normal couple?

I’d floated the idea of going to Glastonbury.

There would be bands from all eras . . .

‘And mud,’ Leo said.

‘But don’t you think it would be just amazing to experience the energy in that huge sea of people?’

‘Sweet Tess! How do you manage to stay so relentlessly optimistic?’

These days, his compliments increasingly transformed to critique if I dwelled on them.

And yet there was always a tantalizing promise that things would be different one day.

Like last time, after sex, when Leo had asked me, ‘Shall we elope to a finca in Spain, Tess? Shall we lunch in the shade of an olive tree and drink good wine and grow oranges and fuck like
there’s no tomorrow?’

‘Or Italy?’ I’d suggested, unsure what a finca was. ‘I’ve always wanted to go back.’

He gave me such an amused look I felt like a fool for failing to understand that the offer was only another of his metaphors, as insubstantial as a wish.

And yet, I told myself, even a metaphor must mean that at some level he wanted it too?

Martin was talking to me. Not talking, exactly, more making an announcement.

‘Hope wants to have singing lessons,’ he said. ‘Now she’s eighteen, she can do what she likes.’

‘Good idea!’ I agreed.

‘You can’t stop me!’ Hope chimed in. ‘I’m eighteen!’

With everyone at the table looking at me, I wondered how long I’d been in Leo world and whether I’d missed something.

‘I’ve never tried to stop you!’ I laughed.

‘You wouldn’t allow her to have music lessons,’ Martin pressed.

‘Hang on,’ I protested. ‘I’ve never stopped Hope doing anything!’

Wasn’t I the one who’d bought her the keyboard? Wasn’t I the one who’d listened to her singing all these years?

‘You said lessons are too expensive,’ said Hope.

‘Well, yes, that was piano lessons and it was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Nobody said anything about singing.’

‘Martin did.’

‘Yes, but . . .’ I’d thought it was just him being nice.

I looked to Dad and Anne for support.

‘You should have said,’ Anne now joined in. ‘You only had to ask.’

Dad appeared poised to come to my rescue, when Martin added, ‘What about the church choir? Hope says you wouldn’t let her go . . .’

‘Now, she has a point there, Tess,’ said Dad. ‘Weren’t you always dead set against her going to church?’

Inside I was screaming,
How dare you? Didn’t I do enough?

I remembered telling Mum she should stick up for herself more, and now I was staying silent just like she always did. Trouble was, I couldn’t think of a way without it sounding like Hope
was a burden and I didn’t want to do that and I expect that’s why Mum didn’t either.

My eyes blurred as I stared down at the grey slices of lamb and the bullets of roast potato in the puddle of gravy on my plate. Mum always said that we mustn’t cry on birthdays because it
would bring bad luck.

‘I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ I said quietly, pushing back my chair. ‘I think I’ll leave you to it.’

None of them said, ‘Don’t be silly!’ or ‘Of course you can’t go!’

In fact, as I glanced back at them from the door, Dad picked up the menu and asked, ‘Now, Hope, will it be the black cherry cheesecake or the banoffee pie?’

I stood on the street just outside the pub door for a few minutes, wondering whether I was being oversensitive and should go back in. I was half-waiting for one of them to come out and get me.
When it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, I started walking towards the seafront in a bit of a daze. I didn’t feel like going back to a house all decorated with bunting and
balloons; I couldn’t call Leo because he was attending a graduation ceremony with his wife, and he’d hardly welcome his phone going off in Canterbury Cathedral.

I stood, staring down the coast, the dark outline of the land against the pale apricot light of dusk, the sea breeze making my tears taste even saltier.

All this time, when I thought I was the one making the sacrifices, had I really been preventing Hope from doing the things she wanted? Had I expected too little of her and stopped her from
becoming the person she wanted to be? I was so shocked by what Hope had said, I couldn’t even be sure whether Mum would have had any comfort to offer me. I think I felt more desolate than at
any time since she died.

There was only one person in the world who I knew would be able to tell me, one person who’d been there from the start. I found myself dialling a number I hadn’t used in a long
time.

The phone was answered on the first ring, giving me no time to rethink.

‘It’s Tess,’ I said. ‘Can I talk to you?’

‘Where are you?’ Doll asked, instantly recognizing the despair in my voice. ‘Stay there, Tess! Stay there! I’m sending a taxi for you.’

The gates opened automatically as the cab approached Doll and Dave’s house and I fumbled in my bag for my purse.

‘Fare’s paid,’ the driver told me. ‘Mrs Newbury has an account.’

Mrs Newbury. Maria Newbury was a celebrity, who regularly appeared on
South Today
or
Meridian
to give her opinion about all-female shortlists or the importance of apprenticeships.
Mrs Newbury had a big house and a thriving business; I had nothing to show for all the time we’d spent apart. We spoke a different language now and we wouldn’t have anything to say to
each other. Why had I even called her?

The door opened as I went to press the bell.

‘I like your hair like that,’ Doll said.

She stepped forward and hugged me so hard it felt like she was trying to transfer all her regret and apology straight into me, and I hugged her back until we were both shaking with tears and
laughter.

The living room had one completely glass wall. As we sat there, a big white leather sofa each, the light outside faded and the window was dark like a giant television screen with the two of us
reflected in it.

Doll listened without ever interrupting me, but when I paused, she said, ‘I’m so relieved, Tess, because I thought it must be cancer when you called, you know, with your mum getting
it young? Sorry. Not helping. I mean, obviously, this is bad in a different way . . .’

‘Do you think Martin’s right?’ I asked her. ‘All of them obviously thought so.’

‘First of all, Tess, I’m not being offensive or anything, but your dad was always a bastard who’d say anything to put himself in the right, and Anne’s the daft bitch who
shacked up with him.’

‘What would you say if you
were
being offensive?’ I asked.

‘And Hope, well, she says things, doesn’t she, but she doesn’t put all the meaning in like you do,’ Doll continued.

‘Subtext,’ I said, using one of Leo’s favourite words.

‘Whatever,’ said Doll. ‘You know Hope doesn’t mean to be unkind. Hope doesn’t really do kind, does she? And this Martin guy sounds a bit on the spectrum himself.
They’re obviously well suited.’

‘It’s not that sort of relationship!’ I protested.

‘No?’

‘Hope doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body!’

‘How do you know?’

‘I just know!’

‘You didn’t know you were stopping her doing things.’

That was a bit harsh, but it was why I’d come.

‘But not . . . surely?’

I’d never even considered Hope having a relationship with Martin. And yet, now I came to think about it, I’d noticed him taking her jacket and hanging it up for her like a real
gentleman. Surely they weren’t . . . ?

‘Isn’t this what every parent of every teenager goes through?’ said Doll. ‘You have to learn to let go.’

‘Easy to say, but who picks up the pieces if it goes wrong?’

‘True,’ Doll conceded.

‘Maybe I was overprotective. Maybe I didn’t get everything right,’ I admitted.

‘Nobody in the world could say you didn’t do your best.’

‘Did I, though? Maybe I should have taken her to Mass.’

‘And have Father Michael terrifying her with all his warnings about—’

‘—the pleasures of the flesh!’ we both said together, mimicking his ominous tone.

I glanced around nervously as if the elderly priest might be lurking, listening in the shadows.

‘Fred said the football team never got changed as fast as when Father Michael was refereeing,’ Doll confided.

‘Was Father Michael why you didn’t marry in church?’ I asked.

‘It nearly killed my mum. She still thinks Dave and I are going straight to hell!’

Once Dave’s name had been spoken, it sort of hung between us.

‘I’m sorry about Dave, Tess,’ Doll said eventually.

‘Oh, it’s so long ago, I’ve kind of forgotten how to be cross about it,’ I told her. ‘Or even why I was, really.’

‘I was sure he was The One for you, Tess,’ Doll said. ‘Honest I was, but then, when he and I got together, it was like there’d been this blip in destiny and really he was
The One for me.’

‘Do you really believe in destiny?’ I said. ‘Isn’t it more that you had the opportunity to see that Dave was reliable and romantic and handy with a plunger, which you
wouldn’t have known if you’d bumped into him at a disco . . .’

Doll stared at me. ‘God, I’ve missed you SO much, Tess! You never let me get away with anything!’

‘Me you same!’ I said.

My mind kept going back to Hope.

‘You did what you did,’ said Doll. ‘Doesn’t every parent go through these feelings? Nobody can do more than their best, can they?’

The way she kept saying ‘parent’ when I wasn’t actually sounded almost like she’d been thinking about the challenges of parenthood herself, which, I guessed, could only
mean one thing. ‘Are you pregnant?’

She stared at me. ‘Jesus. Does it show?’ She smoothed her hand over the flat front of her white jeans.

‘No!’

‘How did you know, then?’

‘Because I know you,’ I said.

‘We’ve been trying so long, we thought it would never happen. But it’s almost twelve weeks now. I just went for my first scan and when you phoned, I was sure it was Dave
calling to see how it went. He was meant to get back from a trade fair last night but his flight was delayed. Anyway, I’m glad it was you,’ Doll said. ‘Because you’re the
first person that knows. It’s the big moments I’ve missed you most, Tess.’

‘Me too,’ I said.

Doll pointed a remote at the window and a white blind rolled down.

‘So what about you and your fella?’ She tucked her knees up on her sofa in anticipation of a girlie chat.

‘What fella’s that?’ I asked.

‘Come on! I saw you a couple of weeks ago!’

‘Where?’

‘I was having lunch at the Oysterage in Whitstable. I sometimes take the franchisees there. So anyway, there I am, sitting on the decking, pretending I’m listening to sales figures
and stuff, when suddenly I see you like fifty yards away reading in a deckchair . . .’

‘What
are
you talking about?’ I laughed, still thinking I could get away with it.

‘So this bloke pulls you to your feet and gives you this massive snog, and you’re practically undressing each other walking back up the beach, not that you’ve got a lot on,
just the neon-yellow Gucci bikini I brought you back from Dubai, remember that time I went with Fred?’

‘What did you think, then?’ I asked. It was actually a relief finally to admit it to someone.

‘He’s quite mature, isn’t he?’

‘He’s a professor,’ I said.

‘Figures,’ said Doll.

‘How’s that?’

‘Jo and the old professor bloke in
Little Women
!’

‘You wanted to be Amy . . .’

‘Because she was pretty. And, she got nice Laurie.’

Of course she did.

We both sat in silence for a few moments.

‘You’ve got to go back and see Hope sing, Tess,’ Doll said. ‘I’d come with you, only I want to be here to show Dave the first photo, you know, that they do with the
ultrasound?’

She came with me to the door, but just as I was reaching for the handle, it opened, and Dave was standing a foot away from me. He was wearing a well-cut grey suit and his hair was a little
longer. He had the type of all-round tan that rich people have, but his smile was just the same, perhaps slightly whiter.

‘All right, Tess?’ he said.

‘All right,’ I said.

‘Great stuff!’

I stepped back to let him pull his suitcase inside and we gave each other a quick, embarrassed kiss on the cheek.

‘How’s the writing going?’ he asked.

‘Writing?’

‘You said, you know, last time . . . you were going to a writing group?’

I was amazed that he’d remembered.

‘I started,’ I told him. ‘Then I stopped.’

We all laughed, dissolving the tension.

With Leo, all my imaginative space seemed to be taken up with our relationship. And I suppose the stakes were higher, because if I’d given him something to read and he’d torn into
it, I’d have been devastated. I’d never gone back to his class, because I knew Liz and Vi would see what was going on. Occasionally I wondered if they ever mentioned me, but I
didn’t ask, in case Leo would think I was being silly.