Monday to Friday Man (30 page)

The third is to forget about Guy and our kiss because, as Gloria once said, there is no point wasting my time on someone engaged. But I will talk to him.

For a whole week I escape from London: the tubes, the crowds, even Ravenscourt Park, and enjoy the peace of the sea, the fresh air and the company.

It’s only when I get back into my car and begin the long journey back to London that my mobile wakes up, telling me I have ten new messages. I’ll deal with them when I get home, I promise myself.

My restful holiday abruptly comes to an end when I see him standing outside my front door.

‘Where have you been?’ he asks, helping me unload the car.

‘Away.’ I look at him, confused. I can’t remember the last time he visited No. 21.

‘Nick? What’s wrong?’

‘I needed to see you.’

‘Come in. Are you all right?’

He follows Ruskin and me inside. ‘I’ve had enough. I’ve left her,’ he says.

As I make us a late-night snack of toast and peanut butter, Nick tells me how stupid he’s been, how seduced he was by Nancy when they first met. ‘She was so glamorous and I was flattered by her attention, but I don’t think we ever really loved each other,’ he says, hurt in his voice. ‘Gilly, when I found out she’d kissed Jack, do you know what I felt?’

I shake my head.

‘Nothing. I felt numb. I didn’t care. I couldn’t even focus on what she’d done to you. It was then that I knew I couldn’t continue living a lie because that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? I’m living a lie. I care that she’s the mother of my children, I care so much that the children don’t get hurt, but . . .’ He shakes his head sadly. ‘I’m scared to leave her, but if I don’t . . .’ He pauses. ‘You were right . . . I deserve more, don’t I?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to need your support,’ he declares, vulnerability in his eyes. ‘I think I left a long time ago. I’m there, in the house . . . but . . .’

‘You’re not there? In the way Mum left us the moment Megan died.’ I take his hand.

‘I am doing the right thing, aren’t I?’

I think about this. ‘I don’t think it’s right being this unhappy.’

‘I worry about leaving the children, what it’s going to do to them. I’m abandoning them,’ he says, tormented.

‘No, you aren’t. You’re a wonderful dad,’ I stress. ‘Wonderful, and they won’t lose you. You can’t compare your situation to what happened to us. It’s not the same, Nick.’

He curls his hand into a fist. ‘I won’t let them down, Gilly, I can’t,’ he swears to himself. ‘I love them so much. I’m going to be there for them no matter what, just like Dad was there for us.’

‘I know you will. I know you will. And Nancy?’ I ask, dreading the answer. ‘How is she taking it?’

He tells me that they’ve agreed to part amicably. To his surprise she’s been quite gracious, admitting too that she hasn’t been happy for some time. For all her faults and despite her loathing of Richmond, they’ve both agreed to stay in the neighbourhood to cause as little disruption for the children as possible.

‘I’m sorry about Jack too,’ Nick now says. ‘Really sorry. Look at us,’ he reflects.

I smile. ‘What a pair we are.’

‘But maybe, with Jack, it’s good . . .’

‘Good? What do you mean?’

‘Good you found out sooner rather than later,’ he explains. ‘Being with the wrong person is even more lonely than being on your own.’

47

It’s 6 December, Megan’s anniversary. She would have been twenty-eight today.

I suffer déjà vu as I re-enter my spare-room details with a photograph of my sitting room, hoping to get a quick response. Over the past three months I’ve become used to having some extra rent money that helps not only towards my mortgage but occasionally allows me to buy new dresses too. I would still recommend anyone to rent out their spare room from Monday to Friday, not even the likes of Jack Baker has put me off. I press the REGISTER NOW button. As I log off, I smile, remembering the panic it had caused that very first time.

‘Oh, Megan, let’s hope I find a lovely straightforward person to live with me,’ I say, picking up the small framed photograph of her on my writing desk. She’s sitting in her special chair wearing a deep-red velvet pinafore dress with matching shoes. A chocolate cake is in front of her, lit with two candles, and her pretty brown hair is pinned back with two pale-pink clips. She was so beautiful.

The telephone rings. It’s Anna, to say she’s thinking of me today. She has to hang up abruptly because she’s just seen a fox in her tiny garden.

Anna’s wonderful the way she remembers Megan’s anniversary, without fail, every year. I’m lucky to have such a good friend.

I smile, remembering Anna and I rushing home from school, deciding what we were going to sing to Megan that night.

‘She loves our ballet stuff,’ Anna said breathlessly, her satchel strap flung over her shoulder. ‘We could do the wedding dance again!’ For my tenth birthday Mum had taken us all to the ballet
Giselle
, and Megan had loved the costumes. During one act girls in pearl-white wedding dresses lit up the whole stage. They looked like sparkling jewels set against the deep-blue night sky. Even Nick held his breath.

‘Or we could do the Bonny Tyler song, she likes that,’ I said.

I think it was Bonny Tyler, I can’t really remember now, but it was a terrible song anyway.

‘Hi, Mum!’ I called out as we dumped our lunch boxes and satchels in the hallway. We found Mum in the kitchen drinking tea, some spreadsheets in front of her and what looked like airline tickets. She whipped them away as she said hello to us. I crouched down next to Megan and took hold of her plump hand and she smiled at me, that lovely smile. ‘Hello, Gilly,’ she beamed. ‘Look at my tights!’ She was wearing navy tights with embroidered daisies. Megan always loved to choose her own clothes, indignant if Mum didn’t match her tights with her dress. Anna bent down to join us, taking hold of the other hand, telling Megan she loved her outfit. When my school friends asked me if I wanted to go to their house to play with their new toys I’d always say no. I had Megan, with her long eyelashes that curled like half-moons, her plump cheeks that I loved to kiss and her large blue eyes that shone the moment I walked into the room.

Anna and I drew the curtains and dimmed the lights of the sitting room. Megan was in position, her chair close to the kitchen door. Through the narrow crack of the door I saw Mum at the table again, deep in concentration. ‘Ready?’ Anna said, standing poised by the music machine after a number of false starts. She pressed ‘play’. Megan’s laugh filled the room.

I smile at my desk, singing the song, ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’, picturing Anna and I cavorting across the sitting room with hairbrushes as microphones, belting out the words. Sometimes Megan would sing and hum along to the tune, especially if it was one she knew well. If we were brave, Anna and I would attempt a descant. At the end of our song Mum would call out from the kitchen, ‘Very good!’ Sometimes she’d even clap.

Later that day Dad, Nick and I walk up Primrose Hill. We visit Megan’s church in the evening and we all light a candle for her. I think about Guy, remembering him doing this for her too, and feel a deep ache for him. I hate myself for missing him. I’ve thought about returning his calls, but each time I picture him with Flora, busy organizing their wedding plans, I shut down and decide to ring him the next day.

Over supper, I ask them both if they think about Megan, as I do. Dad nods and smiles when I tell him how I remember her, but he doesn’t give away his own memories. Nick says it’s strange how I can remember everything so clearly; it’s all a blur to him, but perhaps that’s because he chose to forget our past.

I find myself telling them about Guy.

‘I really liked him,’ says Nick, ‘a lot more than Jack.’

I tell them that while I was away in Suffolk I found myself thinking about him, but it’s hopeless, isn’t it?

‘I don’t know,’ says Nicholas. ‘Is it? Is he really going to marry Flora?’

Yes, of course he is. While I know he has strong feelings for me, he can’t switch his love off for Flora as easily as you turn a tap on and off. Guy can’t leave Flora and I will not be the person who breaks up a happy relationship, only for Guy to realize months later that he’s made a mistake and resents me. I have accepted those months with him as a gift, a period that can never be repeated. We stretched our time to the limit, to the very last hour, and I won’t forget his friendship. But right now I think it’s best to keep my distance for all our sakes: for me, Flora and Guy. ‘Dad? I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?’ He’s not with me. I’m not sure he’s even listened.

‘Dad?’

He looks at me. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just today,’ he says.

‘What?’

‘Talk to us,’ Nick urges.

‘You know I’m useless at talking, always have been. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ He knocks his heart, as if it’s made of metal. ‘There’s nothing in here. It was twenty-five years ago she died, twenty-five years and you’d think it would get easier, wouldn’t you! I don’t know, I just don’t feel anything any more.’ Nicholas and I look at one another as Dad presses his head into his hands. ‘On a day like today I can’t even cry. I rattle around in this house, alone, and I know I’ve been a bad father to you both, and . . .’

Nick pushes his plate aside. ‘No you haven’t. You’ve always stood by us, Dad.’

I reach for his hand and he grips mine tightly. He reaches across to take Nick’s too. ‘It’s why your mother walked out on us.’

‘No it’s not,’ I say, though I know this is partly true.

‘It’s my fault.’

‘Shush,’ I beg. ‘Just let it out, Dad. Please.’

‘I loved her. It’s my fault,’ he cries into my shoulder.

48

After the weekend of Megan’s anniversary, I walk to Ravenscourt Park, ready to meet Guy this time. I look across the field, to my circle of dog-walking friends. I see Basil running furiously for his ball and Spike trying to mount Hardy, Walter pulling him away in disgust. Sam’s on her mobile, probably talking to her husband . . . Ariel is wearing what looks like a new pair of skinny jeans and drinking a cup of coffee, Pugsy by his side. But Guy? He’s not there. ‘Where have you been?’ Ariel asks, as if I should have sought his permission to leave the park and London.

‘Aldeburgh.’

Sam and Ariel tell me Guy’s been in the park every morning asking where I was.

‘I will talk to him,’ I promise. I then go on to ask Mari if I can continue working in her shop next year. I want to carry on writing my novel, something I should have done a long time ago. I need a job, which gives me time to follow my dream.

‘I’d love you to stay on,’ Mari smiles.

I tell them I’m also looking for another Monday to Friday lodger to supplement my income so I can write.

‘Good on you, girl,’ Ariel says. ‘Looks like you’ve got it all worked out.’

I also break the news that Nick is divorcing Nancy, which sends ripples of shock around the group.

‘Those poor children,’ Mari reflects, but I reassure them both parents are working hard to protect them.

‘Well, they do say 50 per cent of couples get divorced these days, or is it 75 per cent now?’ Walter muses, always knowing how to lift our spirits.

Later that evening, I turn on my computer to see if I’ve had any responses on the Monday to Friday site. As my laptop whirrs into action, someone knocks at the door.

‘Any responses yet?’ Nick asks me. He’s come over for supper. I’m going to cook us my famous spaghetti bolognese. At the moment he’s living in a hotel, attempting to sort out a generous maintenance settlement for Nancy. Gloria is also going to join us tonight, once she’s finished waxing her legs and slapping a face mask on.

‘Just one,’ I reply.

‘Yes?’

‘It was weird.’

‘Weird?’

‘He said, “I like the sound of No. 21. Whoever lives there, I want to meet her.”’

Nick smiles. ‘Who’s it from?’

‘Mr Cox. I’m going to ignore it.’

‘Why? It’s rather nice!’

‘Oh come on! It’s weird. What’s wrong with a simple, ‘I would like to view your spare room, please?’

‘God, Gilly, you can be so conservative sometimes. Just like our father,’ he adds.

Over supper I notice Nick’s smile surfacing again. No one talks over him or puts him down at the kitchen table. Instead, Gloria listens attentively as he talks about his work and his family. The children don’t fully understand about the divorce – they are too young to realize why their parents no longer live together. Nick knows he is going to have to deal with the ‘Why don’t you come home?’ questions each time he picks them up at the weekends. He dreads seeing the disappointment in their eyes when he leaves them at the front door with Nancy.

When Nick and Gloria have left, I play with Ruskin, then just before going to bed glance at my computer in the hopes that I’ve had some further responses to No. 21. Gloria agreed with me that Mr Cox did indeed sound a bit strange. ‘You don’t want to put all your apples in one basket,’ she’d laughed.

No more enquiries.

Reluctantly, wanting to prove to my brother that I am not conservative, I write back to Mr Cox, telling him that he can view the spare room tomorrow evening.