Chapter Twenty-Two
Arriving home late at night, I dump the duty-free gifts for the girls on top of the kitchen table. There are bowls with dried leftover pasta in the sink. My extra-sensitive nasal passages, an effect I believe is down to perimenopause, make me want to heave. The girls must have popped back while I was away and left their dishes for me to sort out. I love how they feel this is their home, but I am annoyed that they didn’t bother clearing up. That’s the problem when they have their own key and come and go as they please.
Once I have unpacked, I open the lid of the laundry basket to throw everything in, only to find that the girls have already managed to fill it. At least they didn’t throw their dirty washing on the bathroom floor, I suppose. Sometimes you have to be grateful for small mercies.
I sigh as I walk into the living room. I would do anything to be back at that beautiful chateau right now instead of having to deal with the washing and messy kitchen.
After sticking the TV on to take my mind off all the chores that have welcomed me home, I message Elias to say thank you for the wonderful memories, but it doesn’t go through.
One tick is all my phone will give me, and I become paranoid that I have already been blocked. I go to bed with no response from Elias, only messages from Poppy, Jasmine and Michael. Poppy and Jasmine ask how the holiday went and are pleased that they’ll get to see me soon. They are so sweet that I forgive them for the pasta bowls. Then they ask if I could order tickets for a concert for them as they go on sale at nine a.m. tomorrow when they’ll be in lectures. They promise to pay me back. We’ll see about that.
Meanwhile, Michael says he needs to talk to me face-to-face urgently. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know the girls are still alive and seeking favours the second I have touched down, then this would have freaked me out. Since I know they are completely fine, whatever he needs can wait. After what Soraya said in her messages, I know I am not up to dealing with him right now. Before falling asleep, I let the girls know that I’ll make sure I’m online in the morning, check once again in case my message to Elias has finally gone through, and decide to ignore Michael.
Even though we are heading towards summer, the flat feels cold when I wake up. I guess I must have become acclimatised to the balmy French climate. I have to put the heating on, something I was hoping I could avoid at this time of year. I sigh as I remember waking up on the French Riviera with the sun shining through the windows and the warmth of Elias beside me. I switch my phone on, thinking my message will surely have gone through by now, and there will be a happy bleep letting me know that Elias has replied. However, there is nothing from him, and my imagination runs riot. I really thought I could trust him, but now I get that red flag again. After all, we did get off on shaky ground from the start. He could be anyone he wants to be in Manchester. His lottery win could be a lie, for all I know. What if I have chosen to ignore all the red flags that have been in my face all along? Perhaps I should have prepared myself for this instead of trusting my instinct.
Once I have secured the concert tickets for the girls, following a stressful online ticket queue experience that I never want to repeat, I consider googling Elias. I fear the worst, yet still, I can’t get him out of my head.
I open my laptop and type his name in, dreading what I might see. I almost want to close my eyes as it reveals the results. Will it help anything if I read something untoward about him? Maybe I should simply move on with fond memories and put it down to experience. Terrified, I look at the screen with bated breath. Thankfully, there is nothing, except a suggestion that I may have spelt the name wrong. Okay. That’s good. Surely, it’s a positive that he has no social media trail? It does strike me as a bit odd, though, as people who win the lottery are usually pictured in the papers opening a bottle of champagne and holding one of those gigantic cheques with a big smile on their face. Although, he will undoubtedly have opted for anonymity, which I certainly understand. He was still running the business when he won, and I expect he didn’t want all his customers gossiping, either. Even now he’s secretive about his win, so he’s bound not to have allowed his photos all over the media. It still doesn’t change the fact that there is no word from him yet, though.
Desperate for a distraction, I close the search engine page and open up the draft of my book. I should start writing while I still feel inspired by my trip, and concentrating on my book might help me take my thoughts off Elias.
I pour everything out onto the page. The words come thick and fast, and the writer’s block I had the last time I sat in this living room is long gone. I am so engrossed in my work that time escapes me, and it is only when I pick up my phone again that I realise there are now two ticks on my message to Elias, showing it has been safely delivered. He didn’t block me as my imagination feared! I punch the air and hope he picks it up soon. I put the laptop away as now I can’t seem to concentrate on anything other than Elias.
I pace up and down, have a shower and put a load of washing on when, finally, there are three happy pings from my phone. Like buses, Elias’s messages seem to all arrive at the same time.
Lucy, hope you get back safely. Please message me once you get home.
I miss you already xxx
I’m just boarding my flight to Manchester. Time to say au revoir to
Monaco. See you soon, hopefully xxx
Lucy, I don’t know if you’ve blocked me? My messages don’t seem to be
going through to you? I thought we both had a fabulous time together.
Maybe I was wrong? xxx
I look at the last message in disbelief. We both thought the same thing about each other! As if I would ever block him.
I can hardly type back fast enough.
Hi! All the messages are coming through in one go. Think you must
have had problems with reception. I’m here! Hopefully my message has got
through to you by now xxx
I notice as I press send that he has now read the message I sent last night and is typing. So I start typing, and our messages end up a jumbled, excited, heap of miscommunication as we interrupt each other. However, there is no confusion when it comes to how much we already miss each other.
Elias tells me he will give me a ring this evening once he is back home. He is at the luggage arrival, and his bags have just shown up on the carousel. I tell him how much I look forward to hearing his voice again tonight. But, by lunchtime, my plans of a cosy evening waiting for Elias to call and then watching the start of a new TV drama are shattered.
It seems that Poppy and Jasmine have a few days’ study leave and are coming to stay. Poppy asks if I can get her favourite jeans that are in the wash pile ready for when she gets back. Like the dutiful mam I am, I throw them in the machine with the next load of washing.
When the girls turn up later on, I am surprised to see them carrying a takeaway. Usually, it’s a case of, ‘What’s for food, Mam?’ and then I have to think of something that could possibly appeal to their ever-changing tastebuds. I look at them impressed.
‘Wow, what’ve you got there?’
‘Chinese. From your favourite place.’ Jasmine looks pleased as punch.
‘Ooh, well that makes a nice change from having to cook tonight. I’m still shattered from the holiday. That’s so thoughtful. Thanks, girls.’
Poppy stands in the hallway, and I ask her why she isn’t coming in.
‘Hang on a minute. Dad’s on his way. He’s parking the car downstairs,’ she says.
‘Dad’s coming?’
‘Yeah, it was his idea to get you the takeaway. He thought you might be too tired to cook tonight.’
I hear those footsteps that I’d recognise anywhere coming up the corridor.
‘Alright, love,’ says Michael, grinning, as he approaches us in a colourful, floral shirt that I have never seen before. What happened to those plain white shirts he used to wear? He looks as though he is off on a Caribbean cruise and not picking up a takeaway at the local Chinese.
‘Umm, hi. I wasn’t expecting you to turn up tonight.’
‘No, well, I thought we could have a family meal, since the girls are home. They invited me, actually,’ he says.
Oh, girls! Why would you do that to me? He’s obviously brainwashed them with his ideas that I am most certainly not on board with.
As the girls and I unpack the takeaway, I notice my favourite dish. I look down at the stir-fried king prawns in a chilli and black bean sauce.
‘Did you see Dad got your fave?’ says Poppy.
‘Yes, thank you. Lovely.’ I let out a sigh. That’s the thing when you have been married to someone for so long. They know all your likes and dislikes.
Michael looks over at me like a puppy wanting attention. ‘See? I remembered.’
Does he want a Blue Peter badge for remembering my favourite food? I don’t mean to be harsh, but he wasn’t thinking of my favourite treats when he bedded some woman who lived round the corner. The bitterness and shock of that betrayal is difficult to move past, no matter how much he tries to make amends.
Poppy puts her arm around her dad.
‘You try your best, don’t you, Dad?’
Michael tops up my wine and smiles at me. ‘Anyway, I wanted to treat you because you had us all very worried. Going off on a boat like that. What are you like?’
‘I hope you can see that you were all overreacting. See, here I am. Safe back at home. Nothing bad happened. In fact, I had an amazing time, but I do appreciate your concern.’
I haven’t told them about the boat crash, or they might envisage me being hauled up to a helicopter on some ladder, with my thighs desperately gripping on. Now that would not be the best of sights for anyone’s imagination, and they would never let me forget it. It would be all the proof they needed to drill into me why I shouldn’t have gone off on that boat.
‘No, thankfully. I’m so glad. It made me realise that… Well…’ Michael gives me that wistful look again. He used to make the same face when he wanted sex.
‘Right. I’ll clear up the plates then, shall I?’ I say quickly.
‘No, Mam. You leave it. We’ll tidy up. You and Dad have a chat now,’ says Jasmine.
Since when are the girls so keen to clean up? This is practically unheard of. Even when I was really sick with adult chickenpox, I still had to unload the dishwasher in our old home. I eye them suspiciously.
‘Come on, Poppy.’ I notice how Jasmine nudges Poppy with her elbow. This is something she always does when they have been plotting. The girls did the same when they wanted a stereo in their room when they were nine and ten, respectively, and again when Poppy was the first to want her ears pierced at thirteen.
‘So, ahem. Yeah…’ says Michael, looking at me intensely.
Thankfully, Poppy drops a plate into the sink, and it makes a big crashing noise, which means I can turn away from him.
‘Watch my plates, please.’
‘Sorry, Mam. Slipped out of my hand. We’ll just leave you two alone a minute.’
Jasmine and Poppy walk out of the open kitchen and leave me looking at Michael as he clears his throat and starts giving me that look once again.
‘What is it, Michael?’ I realise it comes out rather snappily, but I can’t possibly have him thinking that a takeaway container of stir-fried king prawns will be enough to wipe out the last few years and he’ll have me running back to him.
‘I don’t know if Soraya said, but…’
‘Yeah, she told me you swung by the workshop.’
‘Yeah, so the thing is. The thought of you with some guy out on a yacht in the middle of nowhere… Well, it terrified me. You’re my girls’ mam. We need you. We need you here… Do you get what I’m saying?’
‘You need me here. Yeah, I get it. To look after everyone, do the washing for the girls, that sort of thing, is it?’
‘Now, come on. You know what I mean.’
I watch in horror as Michael’s arm reaches closer towards mine and he strokes my wrist. I pull away sharply. He looks at me as if he has been wounded.
‘Look, I’ll just say it. I love you, Lucy. I was a fool. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was a midlife crisis thing. I felt old and decrepit. I wondered if anyone would find me attractive ever again. Like if you died and I wanted to eventually move on… You know, after a long time, like. What if nobody fancied me? I’d passed my prime, and it scared me. Yeah. I was scared, Lucy.’
‘I was scared when Jasmine had to have her appendix out after it ruptured. I was scared when I found out that my husband had some other woman, and she was posting it all over social media. Imagine how scary that was, waking up to see photos of my husband’s car on another woman’s driveway. But not once did I use that fear as an excuse to run off into the arms of another man,’ I say.
‘No, I know, and that’s why I’m sorry. You wouldn’t have done what I did. I’ve realised all the bad things I did to you. I’ve come to my senses, to be honest. You didn’t deserve any of it.’ Michael sounds genuinely sad as he says it and looks as though he wants to cry. I believe that he could well be sorry and has realised that the grass isn’t greener, but still, it changes nothing.
‘It’s a bit late now, Michael. The divorce was finalised over a year ago. Why are you saying this now?’ For once, I am firm with him and realise I probably should have been firmer during our marriage rather than going along with what he wanted half the time.
‘I told you. Because when I thought you were off with the Tinder Swindler dude, my heart broke in two. I thought, what if he swindles you and what if I’d lost you forever? It was the wake-up call I needed.’
‘Wake-up call? Because I’d met someone else?’ My voice is rising higher and higher with every sentence Michael comes out with.
‘And he is not , repeat not , a Tinder Swindler!’ I still don’t know that for certain, but I won’t have Michael say that about Elias.
I jump when Jasmine and Poppy burst back into the room.
‘Mam! Daddy’s trying to be nice. He’s trying to apologise. Don’t be so mean to him,’ shouts Poppy.
‘Were you listening to everything? Now, me and your dad need to talk. This is private.’ No matter what Michael does, he can do no wrong in their eyes. I protected them both from the days when I cried non-stop as I accepted our marriage was over. Now that he thinks I have met someone else, he decides his midlife crisis is over. Well, I can’t forgive or forget that fast, even if the girls would do anything to have our family back together again.
‘The thing is, babe, we’ve so many memories of us as a family, when the kids were young, when we went on holiday together and, oh my god, do you remember that time in Majorca, Poppy…’ I look at him in shock as he brings Jasmine and Poppy into the conversation.
‘Yeah! When I fell off the back of the tandem I was on with you, Dad. Oh, remember my knees?’ says Poppy.
‘Yeah, and we had to take you to the hotel to clean you up and—’ says Michael as Jasmine interrupts him excitedly.
‘I was fed up because I thought Poppy was trying to spoil the holiday deliberately. Remember, we were due to get me that massive unicorn rubber ring for the pool once we finished on the bikes? I thought she was jealous, and we had a big falling out.’ Jasmine puts her arm around Poppy. ‘Sorry, I know now that you were hurt and getting you patched up was more important.’
‘Oh, that was a holiday. By dinner time you were the best of friends again. See, even the closest of family fall out with each other sometimes,’ says Michael, looking at me.
I shake my head in disbelief that this has now turned into a family conversation.
‘Great memories, weren’t they, Lucy?’ says Michael.
‘Yes, they were.’ Shame you had to go and ruin it all , I think to myself.
I watch Jasmine, Poppy and Michael as they laugh amongst themselves, chatting about their favourite family memories, and then I hear my phone ring.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, walking away from the dining table.
I pick up the phone, noting who is calling. I look back at the table where my family is smiling and laughing. I watch as Elias’s name rings out.
‘Is someone calling you, Mam?’ asks Poppy.
‘It’s nothing. I can deal with it later,’ I say, putting the phone back down.