You, Me and Him (21 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

To my Darling Finn,

The news of your engagement has made me so very happy. I remember liking Josie very much when we went punting. I welcome her into our family with open arms. You are the most important boy in my world and your happiness means everything to me.

I hope Josie will stop working when you get married. She’s a big girl, not dainty, but she is
very
beautiful. She had lovely big blue eyes. Inquisitive. I remember them.

I think she will make a wonderful wife. A good faithful companion to you, Finn. I hope you will be as happy as I was with my dear Bobby. I think about him every day. I think about that beautiful boat of ours, the
Blue Banana
, and all those lovely cruises and adventures we had. I hope your father pulls himself together and comes to the wedding. I shall have words with him. And I suppose you have to invite Gwen the Gold Digger.

I know you must be very busy with the marital plans as it’s not long now until the big day, and I know how popular you are too, but my garden chair collapsed and I wanted you to come and fix it. When you bring Josie down to lunch, can you bring your toolbox?

Lots of love,

Granny

P.S. What’s with the sudden rush to get married so soon? You haven’t got her in trouble, have you? Sit on your digits if you get the urge.

P.P.S. I hope she’s bought a dress and that she’s going to cover her shoulders in church.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I walk downstairs with a large basket of dirty laundry. Finn left today. He’s gone to the British Cardiac Society Conference. With Alessia.

‘Do you have to go?’ I had asked, knowing that of course he did and I was simply trying my luck. I remembered he’d once told me that these conferences were an excuse for doctors to play away. ‘Although of course I don’t,’ he’d added with that familiar smile. Drug companies sponsor the event and the doctors get wined and dined like celebrities for five days.

‘You’ll miss one of my antenatal classes,’ I’d complained. ‘You missed the last one too and I felt such a dill not having you there. Honestly, there was everyone else lined up with their birthing partners, huffing and puffing to get on to the crest of the wave. And there was me, a big fat moron on her own.’

‘
My
lovely fat moron,’ he’d corrected me. ‘I love going to this conference, J. I get to learn about all the new procedures and research. There are going to be talks on defibrillators this year.’

‘Oh, well, in that case …’ I’d rolled my eyes. ‘Is Alessia going?’

‘Think so,’ he’d replied.

I put the laundry basket down at the foot of the stairs, exhausted by the exertion already. I look at myself in the mirror and turn away, depressed. It’s high time I met Alessia. In my mind she is impossibly beautiful, one of those girls whose entrance into a room demands attention. She’s graceful, the kind of girl who’d never lose her keys or trip over the pavement. Yet she can be one of the boys, too, when appropriate. She’d love football and wouldn’t ask stupid questions about the sidelines or free kicks, and of course she’s clever and funny, the last two qualities not being
essential
but great plus points, like the bonus ball after winning the Lottery.

And now she is on an aeroplane with Finn. My husband. This slim and glamorous vixen who no doubt always wears matching lacy underwear. They are probably ordering their gin and tonics and tucking into their roasted peanuts this very minute while I’m about to tackle his dirty washing.

My blood pressure rises. And I am allowing this? WHY? What can I do? I’m sure she’s not that pretty, I think, trying to calm myself down. Finn would never cheat on me while he’s away. He’d never cheat on me full stop. I trust him implicitly. But then I think of the other night, when he made it quite clear he didn’t want to hold me or even kiss me. He could barely
look
at me. I stare at my reflection again. I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. I hate the extra weight; I hate the swollen currant-bun ankles; I hate the sweat. I’m even developing the beginnings of varicose veins. Is this what Finn sees? No wonder he couldn’t wait to hotfoot it to this conference with Alessia. I have another image of sunglasses perched neatly on the top of her head, keeping her long mane of glossy dark hair away from her eyes.

Forget about it. It’s purely professional. Get on with your day. Put that washing in the machine.

*

‘Me and machines, we’re not a great partnership,’ Mrs B says. My washing machine has broken down.

She presses the ‘on’ button again. ‘My husband used to tell me I only had to touch something electrical and it broke down.’

‘The machine has got to work.’ I crouch down and my knees crack like splintered wood. ‘I feel like an old pregnant lady, Mrs B. My pelvis is so sore and I get terrible groin cramps too.
So
glamorous. I haven’t been doing my painting, which always makes me feel crotchety, and I’m shouting at Finn like it’s all his fault!’

I wipe my forehead and press the ‘on’ button again but nothing happens. Dead. No flash of life.

I have to wash George’s school clothes and games kit. Thankfully I am working from home today but I have a meeting with Neil tomorrow and this is the only suit that fits me now and it needs to be clean. I press the button and wait. ‘That’s weird,’ I say. ‘I don’t understand. Everything’s switched on at the wall. A fuse hasn’t blown?’

‘No, all the lights are on.’

I press the power button again, holding my breath. Nothing happens. I have to stop myself from asking Mrs B what she has done to make the thing die. It has never broken down before. ‘I haven’t got time for this,’ I shriek, my voice piercing the walls. ‘I’ve got so much to do!’

Mrs B attempts to calm me down. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll work it out.’

The phone rings and I pick it up quickly. It’s Finn, telling me he’s just arrived. ‘I can’t talk now.’ I can hear lots of voices in the background.

‘What’s wrong? Is George OK?’

‘He’s fine.’

‘So what’s up?’

‘The washing machine isn’t working.’

‘Oh, God, is that all?’

I slam the phone down. Mrs B fetches me a glass of water. Five seconds later the phone rings again. I snatch it from the receiver. I can feel those X-ray eyes watching me. ‘Come on, Josie, you didn’t have to hang up. It’s not exactly a life or death situation, is it? Get someone round to fix it. What else is wrong? You’re nowhere near eggs, are you?’

His joke doesn’t work this time. ‘Fuck off, Finn.’

Mrs B is pretending to be absorbed in studying the buttons on the machine. She’s humming loudly. The phone rings again.

‘Josie?’ It’s Clarky. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘No. The washing machine’s broken down.’

‘D’you want me to come round?’

‘Yes. Can you? Right now?’

‘See you in twenty.’

Mrs B looks at me disapprovingly and quickly turns away again.

I put the phone down and it rings immediately. ‘Darling, it’s Mum. How are you?’ My head is throbbing now. ‘Have I called at a bad time?’

*

‘Right,’ Clarky says firmly. ‘Do you have a helpline for this machine?’

I open a drawer and sift through various guarantee forms and pieces of paper that I had forgotten were there. ‘Here we go,’ I say eventually, clutching a pale yellow piece of paper.

‘I’ll give them a call.’ I feel much better after my cup of tea and thick slice of pecan pie that Clarky brought round as a treat. ‘Sometimes Finn makes me feel about this big,’ I grumble, showing Clarky a tiny space between my thumb and finger. ‘Like the little woman at home stewing in domestic strife.’

‘He’s always been like that though, hasn’t he, J?’ He smiles but there’s something distant in his eyes, as if he’s tired of talking about Finn, someone he doesn’t even like that much.

‘I wish he’d take lessons from you on how to be less patronising and arrogant.’

‘Thanks,’ he says uncomfortably.

I punch in the numbers on the telephone. Then I have to listen to a stream of options before finally getting to number ten which is the customer helpline for machines in trouble. After five minutes and a lot of Handel’s
Water Music
in between I am finally connected to a voice. ‘What do you mean, you can’t come out today?’ I stand up and start pacing the floor, a habit I have copied from Finn. ‘But it says here on the form I have in front of me,’ I scan the page again, ‘that you deliver immediate service. I can’t wait until tomorrow.’

‘What seems to be the problem with the machine?’ a bored voice asks. It seems to be enjoying my predicament.

‘Probably something very minor. It was working perfectly yesterday.’

‘Today is today.’

‘I know today is today!’
You imbecile
, I want to add. ‘There must be someone who can come over?’ Clarky is shaking his head vehemently.

‘Bear with me …’ I can hear tapping on a keyboard.

‘I’m bearing,’ I say back.

In a sing-song the voice continues, ‘As I was saying, our first available appointment is for tomorrow. We can get a technician to you late-afternoon, estimated time of arrival approximately seventeen thirty-one.’ Each word is enunciated slowly and clearly as if I were some kind of idiot.

‘Tomorrow?’ I whisper despairingly. ‘Well, if that really is the soonest, I suppose …’ Suddenly the receiver is whisked from my hand.

‘I’m afraid I’m not satisfied with this level of service,’ Clarky says firmly.

‘Sorry? Who am I speaking to?’

‘Her husband. I’m a journalist,’ he adds. ‘I’ve been listening in on your conversation and, I have to say, I’m seriously annoyed about this.’

I smile.

‘It’s unacceptable, I’m afraid. What are you going to do about it?’

Clarky is nodding as the voice tries to get a word in.

‘My wife has just had twins and I will
not
let her be messed around like this.’ He pauses to listen for a moment. I notice how much I like hearing him call me his wife.

‘No, that won’t do. Do you know what it’s like having twins? No, I’m sure you don’t. Are you a reputable company? No, I asked you if you were a reputable company?’ He waits for an answer. ‘Well, I can see I’m going to have to write an article for the
Daily Mail
, and then the whole nation will know that you weren’t able to provide the swift service that my wife, who’s just had twins, needs.’

I put a hand over my mouth, trying not to laugh.

‘What’s your name?’ demands Clarky.

There’s a pause. ‘OK, Steve,’ he repeats. ‘Today, at five o’clock, Dean will be coming to the house. No, that will be fine, we can just about hang on till then. Number eight Rudolf Road, Shepherds Bush. Thank you, Steve.’

When he puts down the phone we both burst into laughter. I fling my arms around him and my big tummy hits his. ‘Clarky, you are a genius! You should be on the stage.’

‘Just one of my many hidden talents.’

‘Thank you. You are my hero.’ I stand back from him as if surveying a new person in front of me. ‘How did you do it?’

‘Actually,’ he runs a hand through his hair, ‘it’s Aggie. A trick she’s taught me.’

A thorn of jealousy pricks me. ‘Clarky?’ I ask tentatively.

‘Yes?’ he replies in the same tone.

‘What are you doing for the rest of the day?’

‘Well, I’m supposed to be looking for work.’

‘I’m supposed to
be
working, but …’ I laugh, playing with my wedding ring. ‘I wondered if we could spend the day together? I know this sounds funny, but I’ve missed you.’

‘Missed me? But I haven’t gone anywhere.’ He does a turn on the kitchen floor. He taps his shoe against the ground. ‘I think I’m real.’

I push his arm playfully. ‘Seriously, Clarky, I haven’t seen much of you lately, understandably, so how about we go out today, do something fun? Like old times? What do you say?’

The phone rings and we both listen to it as if it’s some strange noise from outer space. Eventually I remember it’s my phone in my house. So I pick up.

‘It’s Aggie,’ she says. ‘Clarky’s not with you, is he? I’ve been ringing his home and mobile but he’s not answering.’

‘Yes, he’s here. Thank God!’ I add with a laugh. ‘Helping me mend my washing machine.’

‘Don’t you have instructions or can’t you get someone out?’

‘Well, he’s a genius, he used one of your tricks to do just that. Someone’s coming over to fix it later.’

I’m not sure she’s listening. ‘Can I talk to him?’ she snaps.

*

Clarky and I go on a London tour bus. We sit on the top deck and watch the frantic world go by. We only half listen to the commentary on Madame Tussaud’s, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Cathedral, Harrods, the London Eye. ‘Do you realise we have known each other virtually all our lives?’ I tell him, linking an arm through his.

‘And we’re still talking. It’s a miracle.’ He smiles. ‘How’s George? How did the piano lessons go?’

‘He was keener on making Jack the cat play than himself. His swimming is great, though, all thanks to Aggie for introducing us to the teacher.’

‘Look over there, J.’ He nudges me. ‘At that old couple.’ There’s a frail woman in black trousers and a pale pink top pushing a man in a wheelchair. He has a thin rug over his knees. She places a flower behind his ear, he laughs as if the petals tickle, she kisses him gently on the cheek and then they continue walking down the busy London pavement.

There’s something indescribably touching about what she has just done. Clarky and I watch silently until he finally says, ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch for a while.’

‘It’s fine. I know what it’s like when you first start going out with someone.’

‘Aggie’s great. I just wish she wasn’t so insecure. Her last husband, “the sod”, has a lot to answer for. When El was born he started drinking, lost his job, had an affair …’

I start to chew my thumbnail. ‘Poor Aggie. She didn’t tell me about that. What did he do?’

‘He ran his own carpet-cleaning business. Aggie told me his chief claim to fame was that he’d cleaned Rod Stewart’s carpet. “How was I supposed to get excited about that?” she said.’

I smile.

‘Anyway, he used to just sit in the pub, all day long, drinking himself into a stupor, believing the whole world was against him because what on earth had he done wrong to deserve a child like El? When she found out he’d been unfaithful she filed for divorce. She told me she’d never been in love with him in the first place, so how could she be expected to love him when he was a drunk who gave her and El no support?’

‘He makes Finn look like an angel.’

‘Me too. It’s easy to impress after him.’

‘You
are
an angel, though.’

‘Josie.’ He blushes.

‘But you’re getting on great, aren’t you?’

‘Yes.’ He shifts in his seat. ‘She’s a bit jealous about you and me, though. Didn’t like the idea of us spending this afternoon together. She was really prickly on the phone and I can’t be bothered with that.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Nothing. She didn’t have to. She was abrupt, that’s all.’

‘Oh, God. She should get together with Finn. They’d bond over that one.’

‘I nearly lied to her today but then I thought, no, that’s wrong. I should be able to see you and not feel guilty.’

I press my lips together, heat creeping into my face. ‘I’d probably be jealous too. I’m even jealous of Alessia, the phantom medic. She’s on this conference with Finn. But jealousy’s a waste of time. We have to trust, don’t we?’

‘Exactly. I’m not going to start lying when we’ve nothing to hide, right?’

We look at one another. I see us as children again, on the school bus. I see him sticking up for me with that quiet self-assurance when I had to wear my head brace.