Missing You (17 page)

twenty-four

The weather is set fair so Lina suggests they all get together for a picnic in the park. She puts a notice up on the board in the reception area at work, and everyone Sean speaks to seems to be going; they have had impromptu parties in the park before and they’ve always had a great time.

Sean has avoided mass social gatherings for some time now, but he knows Amy will enjoy the party so he accepts the invitation with good grace. He’s making the most of his daughter because, after the weekend, he won’t see her again for a while. After the success of the Greek retreat, the Other has been invited to co-host a similar event in the south of France. Belle told Sean she is going to help by providing refreshments to the students and tutors throughout the day and cooking meals for them in the evening. Sean was surprised by this. He was surprised that Belle agreed to take on the role of caterer. He asked if she wouldn’t rather be doing the writing herself; she said she would learn more about the human condition by observing than by participating. Sean can’t remember when she started talking like this. It sounds, to him, as if something isn’t quite right. He told Belle that the retreat didn’t sound like much fun for Amy, and Belle said it would be OK because it was a much bigger, more established event than the Greek one and there would be a children’s club with activities every morning and afternoon.

Sean imagines Amy in her little ruched swimsuit and her cotton hat standing barefoot on scratchy, south of France grass, squinting up at the children’s club team leader – some nice, sensible French teenager – through her baby sunglasses. He imagines her running around with tanned French kids, learning some words. He imagines her in the swimming pool, in her armbands and her float-belt, splashing with her feet, the cold water sparkling in the sunlight. It’s a part of her life that she will never forget and that he will have missed completely.

Lina comes into Sean’s office and asks if he’ll meet her in Sainsbury’s on the morning of the picnic, so that they can load up his car with food and drink. Freddie will bring the chairs, the rugs, the barbecue and the coals in their car, but they won’t have room for everything and she’d appreciate Sean’s help.

‘Of course,’ says Sean.

‘Bring Fen with you,’ says Lina.

‘OK.’

Lina pauses at the door, tapping an envelope against her thigh. Sean looks up.

‘It’ll be OK, you know,’ she says. ‘I know it’ll be your first time on your own without Belle but everyone knows now and . . .’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ says Sean, ‘I’ll be fine. Thanks.’

She closes the door, and he drops his head into his hands.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Fen. He hasn’t told anyone at work that they are together. The opportunity simply has never arisen. Sean has never been part of the drinking crowd, and since the break-up with Belle he has avoided invitations to social and sporting events, mainly because they all take place at weekends and that’s the only time he has with Amy. People don’t ask about Belle because they know his marriage is a sore point; they avoid conversations about women and Sean is not the sort of person to make announcements. He doesn’t quite know how to explain all this to Fen.

On the way back to Lilyvale he stops off at the florist’s and buys a bunch of yellow roses.

Fen is barefoot in the kitchen. The back door is open. Connor is sitting on the doorstep eating sandwiches. A pan of new potatoes is steaming on the hob.

‘Here,’ says Sean, passing the roses to Fen. ‘These are for you.’

‘Thank you,’ she says, a blush of pleasure seeping onto her cheeks. ‘They’re lovely.’

She runs two inches of water into the sink and stands the roses in that while she finishes preparing the meal.

‘What are you doing on Sunday?’ asks Sean, leaning against the counter.

‘Nothing,’ says Fen.

‘Wrong. You’re coming to a picnic in the park.’

Connor looks up at Sean wide-eyed.

‘Is Amy going?’

‘Con, don’t talk with your mouth full,’ says Fen without even looking at him.

‘Yes, Amy’s going.’

‘Can I go with Amy?’

‘I’m sorry, mate,’ Sean says, ‘you and your mum will have to make your own way there. Amy and I are going to help Lina with the food.’

‘Doesn’t she know about us?’ asks Fen. She picks a boiled egg out of a plastic bowl and taps it against the edge of the counter.

‘I thought
you
might have said something.’

‘I haven’t seen her in ages,’ says Fen.

‘I keep meaning to tell her but we’ve been so busy lately, I haven’t been in the office much. I’ve been out on site,’ says Sean. It is the truth.

Fen peels the brown shell from the egg. The smooth, exposed, congealed white glistens in the palm of her hand.

‘Don’t you want your colleagues to know about us?’

‘Oh, Fen, no. It’s nothing like that. It’s just . . . I haven’t had the chance to say anything. I don’t know how to tell them.’

He puts his hand on her shoulder and kisses the top of her head. She concentrates on the egg. He leans over and steals a slice of cucumber from the salad bowl.

‘Did they all really like Belle?’

‘I don’t know. We don’t talk about women – we’re real men.’

He feels her shoulder relax beneath his hand and she looks up and smiles.

‘You talk about sport and cars?’

‘Exactly. ’ He takes another slice of cucumber and a lettuce leaf.

‘Stop it,’ she says, waving him away. ‘There’ll be nothing left.’

Sean kisses her temple.

‘Come on, you,’ he says to Connor, ‘finish that sandwich because we need to put in some practice at rounders.’

The Sunday of the picnic is the sort of day that’s made for England. Little white clouds wisp across a perfectly blue sky, and between the pavements and the clouds long-winged birds soar, while a breeze that’s perfect for taking the edge off the heat breathes affectionately through the leaves of the trees on the hill.

Amy is wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with her fairy wings over the top. The wings have been worn so many times that they are distorted and the gauze is distinctly grubby. She skips as she holds Sean’s hand on the way into the supermarket.

Lina is already there, with a deep trolley, and the three of them fill it with beer, fizzy drinks, burgers, sausages, rolls and wine, and miscellaneous goodies that catch Amy’s eye: black olives (‘Mummy likes them’), buffalo mozzarella (‘Mummy likes that’), salted pistachios (‘they’re Mummy’s favourites’). Sean is trying not to place undue significance on the fact that Mummy has featured far more predominantly in their conversations since Amy woke from a nightmare one night and found Sean in bed with Fen.

Once the car is loaded, they drive to the park, and, miraculously, find a space close to a nice spot towards the bottom end of the hill, below the Botanic Gardens and above the play area. Sean helps Lina and Freddie set up the barbecue while Amy lies on her stomach on the grass pulling the petals from daisies and telling herself a story. Soon other people arrive, a couple of families, a few couples, and the picnic area expands, blankets next to blankets, grey smoke curls skywards and children’s laughter puts smiles on the faces of the adults.

Freddie declares himself head chef – he has a comedy hat and an apron – and Sean, designated sous-chef, quietly follows his orders. He has been given the role of Freddie’s assistant out of kindness, so he will not have to sit on his own, doing nothing. He is grateful to Lina and Freddie for their thoughtfulness, but at the same time he feels intensely uncomfortable because now Fen will be sitting on her own. The longer he says nothing about her, the more difficult it becomes to broach the subject. He realizes that she has been on her own for so long that it is assumed, among the people who know her, that it is her natural state. It does not cross their minds that she might be with someone. He tries to think of a way to bring her name into the conversation casually, but Freddie is talking about global finance markets and other people are joining in with their opinions; there’s nothing Sean can do.

He peels sausages out of their greaseproof paper and onto the tines of the barbecue, where they smoke and spit. He pokes them with his fork and turns wooden skewers heavy with chunks of vegetable. Freddie drinks beer from the can and waves away the smoke. Lina has taken off her shoes and kneels on the blanket, unpacking salads and quiches with the other women.

‘Freddie,’ says Sean, ‘there’s something I need to—’

‘Look,’ says Freddie, pointing with his tongs, ‘there’s your landlady.’

Sean glances across the park, and in the distance he sees Fen struggle to manoeuvre Connor’s pushchair through the gate. He moves the sausages to the edge of the barbecue where they won’t burn.

‘I’ll go and give her a hand,’ he says to Freddie. ‘Keep an eye on Amy, would you?’

He trots down the path and as he comes closer to Fen it’s clear that there’s trouble. Connor is not happy. Snot and tears are smeared all over his face and his clothes are all out of place. Hair is stuck to his forehead.

‘He wanted to go with you and Amy,’ says Fen, ‘and he was in a bad mood because he couldn’t and then when we left the house he ran into the road. Then he wouldn’t hold my hand or sit in the buggy so we had a big fight.’

Connor’s body is at an awkward angle. He scowls up from behind his hand and spits, which is his latest thing.

‘Oh, come on, Connor,’ says Sean. ‘That’s not very manly.’

He unbuckles the harness and swings the little boy out by his arms.

‘Got a wet wipe, Fen?’

‘Here.’

‘Right,’ says Sean, cleaning Connor’s face. ‘See that smoke over there? That’s our dinner, and if we don’t hurry up it’s going to be burned!’

He picks Connor up and hefts him onto his shoulders, holding him tightly by the waist. Connor squeals with delight. He is light, much lighter than Amy; there is nothing to him, really. Sean breaks into a pretend gallop, and Connor screams. Fen follows behind with the pushchair.

When they come close to the picnickers, Sean lifts Connor off his shoulders, turns him upside down and carries him the last few yards by his ankles. Connor is wriggling and laughing, his T-shirt falling over his chin, his little bare tummy on display. It is crossed by a pale scar that Sean has never seen before. Sean lays him down on the rug, and Amy comes over and takes charge of the boy. The status quo has been restored. Sean waits until Fen has joined the group and Lina has embraced her and pulled her down beside her, then he returns to the barbecue.

‘How do you get on with Fen?’ Freddie asks, passing him a beer.

‘We get on very well.’ This is the perfect moment. Sean takes a breath.

‘Always found her hard work myself,’ says Freddie. ‘Bit odd. Doesn’t say much, does she? Most of the time she seems away with the fairies.’

Sean looks over at Fen. She is listening intently to something Lina is saying.

‘She’s great when you get to know her,’ he says.

Freddie squeezes half a lemon liberally over the tail-on king prawns that are cooking, speared in groups of half a dozen on wooden skewers.

‘And how well have you got to know her?’ he asks, with a nudge.

Sean pretends not to have heard. He can think of no way to answer this question honourably.

The meal lasts for hours. Sean and Freddie cook the food a little at a time, and the women organize the drinks and the cold food. In the pauses before new batches of hot food are ready to eat the adults drink, or play with the children. They play French cricket, Grandma’s footsteps, tag. Other families join in. The boundaries of the group are blurred and it’s very sociable.

Lina sits between Freddie’s legs, resting her head on his chest; her arm strokes his big calf, smoothing the gingery hairs, and his hand is on her belly, just below her breasts. Sean glances at Fen. She sits apart, hugging her knees, her sunglasses holding back her hair. He tries to catch her eye, but she is casually ignoring him. She picks at a salad with her fingers, a slice of cucumber, a shred of lettuce, and watches the children. Amy is chasing Connor around in circles, pretending that she can’t keep up with him. Connor is screaming with laughter and the anticipation of being caught. Sean squeezes the smoke out of his eyes and turns chocolate-stuffed bananas, wrapped in aluminium foil, with his tongs. A little grey-muzzled dog is sitting politely a few feet from the barbecue, alternating his brown-eyed gaze from the last of the meat, to Sean’s eyes. He’s not a stray; he’s a clean, well-groomed old thing with a nice collar.

Later, they douse the barbecue coals with water and pack away what little food is left. They take off their shoes and play rounders with a tennis ball. Jumpers mark the bases. Fen plays with Connor, holding his hand and sometimes hefting him on her hip. Lina can’t hit the ball and keeps leaning over, with her hands on her knees and her skirt wrapped around her thighs, laughing. The men are stupidly competitive, even with the children. Still they let Connor win and Connor’s face nearly cracks with happiness. The other children are suspicious. Airidas’s daughter stands on tiptoe to ask her father if the game was rigged and Sean doesn’t hear what he says, but the child is appeased. She nods and smiles and leans against her father.

Some of the adults take the children down to the playground, while Sean, Freddie, Lina and Fen tidy up the detritus. The party has spread itself across a large area and children’s jumpers and socks, plastic cups and paper plates are scattered.

‘How do you two know each other, then?’ Sean asks, gathering up a stray crisp packet. Fen has hardly said a word all afternoon. Every time he’s moved closer to her, she has tensed. When they are alone they are perfectly at ease, but they have never been together in public before.

‘We went to the same school,’ says Lina.

‘Merron College?’

‘No!’ Lina laughs. ‘It was a church school on the other side of town. Girls only. Lots of singing and praying and discreet religious fundamentalism.’

‘It wasn’t that discreet,’ says Fen. ‘We had to wear horrible coats.’