Chapter 43
43
L eaving Kay to regain her composure, Helen pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped outside into a flare of daylight. Libby and Alex should be seated before Caro arrived; she needed to call them in. She raised her hand to her face, shielding her eyes as they recalibrated to accommodate the sunshine, the piercing glint from passing cars, the shimmer of sandstone steps. It was a busy scene, with people coming and going through a side door, hands full of paperwork in pastel colours. This front entrance of the town hall she had just used was obviously reserved for the more important milestones of life, those infrequent occasions when the stroke of a pen recorded a name that might otherwise have gone forever unspoken. The side door, she realised as she watched, was for all the stuff in-between: finding a place to live, registering a vote, gaining a driving licence.
Letting her hand fall, she turned back to the stairs and was immediately drawn to a young couple standing on the top step. The man was tall with a mop of dark hair. He had his hands in his pockets as he listened to the woman talking. They looked so comfortable in each other’s company, heads tipping back as they laughed, it took Helen a long moment to understand that she was looking at Libby and Alex. When she did, when the realisation had seeped through, the tears that pricked her eyes were sharp as needles.
Libby and Alex, her baby girl and Kay’s baby boy, all grown up.
Of course, they would be comfortable with each other. Libby was closer in age to Alex than she was to her brother. Born six months apart, for the first five years of their lives they had been the best of best friends, sharing birthday parties and beds, paddling naked in the splash pool, falling asleep, heads touching, in their toddler car seats. She still remembered how they always held hands, no matter how short the walk. From the car to the house, the car to the supermarket, the car to nursery school, they would seek each other out and hold hands. So, it should have been a joyous sight, but the feeling she had as she watched was tinged with sadness. It was a merciless proof of how swift it all was, how a decade could pass easy as water through hands. A breeze came gusting up the steps, cold enough for her to pull her wrap tight over her shoulders. She tipped her chin to the sky. The clear blue of earlier had gone, and all she could see now was slate grey. She shivered. The morning had turned colder.
‘I suppose you’re too big now for a hug!’ she said, as she put her arms around Alex. (It wouldn’t have mattered what he answered, there was no way she was missing out on hugging him). ‘My goodness!’ She took a step back. ‘You just get taller all the time.’
As Alex mumbled an embarrassed response, Libby said, ‘We were just trying to remember the last time we saw each other.’
Smiling, Helen tucked the edge of her wrap in place. She knew exactly when the last time had been, and although she wasn’t entirely surprised that Libby didn’t seem to remember, it was still disappointing. ‘Your eighteenth birthday party, wasn’t it?’ she said, the light stress making it a question, when she wasn’t looking for an answer.
‘I think it must have been,’ Libby looked away, her cheeks colouring.
So, she did remember. Not having wanted Alex there in the first place, Libby had spent the whole evening avoiding him, and Helen had spent a large part of the evening looking out for him. Making sure he had a drink, attempting to engage him in conversation. His buttoned-up silhouette, lonely at the edge of the dance floor was a memory she would never forget. Neither was the comment she had overheard Libby make to a group of her girlfriends. ‘He’s someone my mum knows. She made me invite him.’ It had been one of those moments when she hadn’t liked her daughter. When she had found the hubris of a single-minded eighteen-year-old, with skin as unblemished as her grades, a repellent thing.
‘That was a great night,’ Alex said now.
Helen nodded. This was why Kay carried her son’s heart in her hands. If she left it with him, he’d bring it home every day torn to shreds, and he wouldn’t even notice. Not until it was completely broken, not until it was dying. One step lower, she watched Libby lift her face to Alex, saw how she bit down on her lip, how her eyes were glassy with tears. Libby knew; she had her own child now. Finally, she knew.
‘I might have a party,’ Alex said brightly.
Helen laughed. ‘Am I invited?’
‘Of course you are.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, matching his sincerity. Of course, he would invite his mother’s fifty-two-year-old friend. And suddenly she was thinking of the time, Kay had told her how, the day after they had watched Lady and the Tramp, Alex had gone into school and told his whole class that he could speak French, ‘Oh la la Pussycat,’ he’d repeated proudly. A story that was as funny as it was terrifying. Because as Kay had explained, if he thinks he can do it, it’s enough: her greatest fear was Alex’s greatest strength.
‘You’re invited too, Libby,’ Alex said. ‘And you can bring your baby.’
‘Oh.’ A spot of pink appeared on each of Libby’s cheeks. ‘I’d love to,’ she said.
Beaming, Alex turned back to Helen. ‘I’m only going to have it, if Mum’s in Cyprus. She hasn’t booked her flight yet. Dad will get there quicker than her at this rate.’
‘Really? Why’s that?’ Helen kept her voice light as a feather. Talk about blood out of a stone! The only thing Kay had given up about the fact that her anonymous admirer, had turned out to be her ex-husband, (Helen’s worst nightmare), was that it had been a lovely evening and she might see him again. If she hadn’t had so much else on her mind, not least keeping tabs on Caro, she’d have taken a trip across, and armed with a bottle of Prosecco, bubbled it out of Kay. She’d always liked Martin, had always thought Kay and him were a perfect match. Their divorce had been such a shock, it had just about ended Helen’s faith in marriage as an institution. If Kay and Martin couldn’t make it, who could? Nobody, it turned out, and thinking this her mind went back to Caro, who had so nearly messed it up before she’d even started. Who had been positive and cheerful every time Helen had phoned. Too positive and too cheerful for Helen’s liking. She took out her phone and glanced at the time. Neither Tomasz nor Caro had arrived.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You’re shivering,’ Libby said.
‘Am I?’ Helen laughed. ‘It’s just the wind.’
‘What wind?’ Alex said.
Helen laughed again. But as swiftly as it had risen, the breeze had dropped. She hadn’t been shivering because she was cold, she’d shivered in the foresight of something she couldn’t see or hear. Something she could only feel.
‘Is your dad going to Cyprus as well?’ Libby said, dragging her back into the moment.
‘He’s bought a camper van,’ Alex said. ‘It’s at Mum’s house and I’m helping him fix it up. He’s going to drive around Europe in it.’
So that was what might see him again, meant. Helen smiled. A to B to C. You could always rely on Alex to take a direct route.
‘I think she’s worried about me,’ Alex said. ‘She doesn’t think I can look after myself. But I can. I have a girlfriend now.’
‘Oh, Alex.’ Helen put her hand on his arm. Alex had always been more capable than Kay had ever dared allow him to be. Except for the heart bit. His pure, pure heart. ‘What’s her name?’ she said, welling up again.
‘Emmylou. She works in the gift shop at the garden centre.’
‘That’s great, Alex.’ And Libby too smiled, and for a moment the three of them stood, held in the arms of a pure and gentle emotion.
‘I want Mum to go,’ Alex said. ‘She really enjoyed herself last time. I don’t want her to think that she has to stay and look after me all the time.’
‘No,’ Helen murmured.
‘That’s not fair,’ Alex said.
She shook her head.
‘So, I think she should go.’
Helen dipped her chin. She understood what Kay would be thinking, how impossible the decision to leave was. What she couldn’t begin to understand, not here, not now in the blistering truth of Alex’s words, was what Libby would be thinking. The situation was too complicated, too fraught with emotion to be broached five minutes before a wedding. ‘I think,’ she said cheerily, ‘that we really should be going in.’ She turned to Alex. ‘Your mum is getting your granddad seated and then she’s coming back out to wait with me. Libby why don’t you––’
But she didn’t get any further because the door swung open and a tall woman with startlingly orange lipstick, big teeth and bigger hair called out.
‘Anyone here for the Hardcastle – Nowak wedding?’
Helen gathered her wrap together. ‘We are,’ she said.
‘Excellent!’ The woman stretched out a hand. ‘My name is Chloe. I’m your celebrant today.’
‘Excellent!’ Helen mirrored. She’d never met a celebrant before, but if she’d been expecting anything it would have been a suit, somewhat authoritative, somewhat smart. Chloe was dressed in what looked like a cross between a robe and a poncho. Purple-satin, neatly fringed with gold. Suppressing a smile, Helen stepped aside, allowing Alex to go ahead.
‘Mum.’ Libby’s hand was on her arm. ‘Wait, please.’
Aware of Alex and Chloe going through, of the door beginning to close, Helen stretched her arm out to hold it.
‘You should take the job,’ Libby said quietly. ‘I want you to take the job.’
‘Libby.’ The door was heavy, she had to take a step back to hold the weight. ‘We can talk about this after ––’
But Libby was shaking her head, her chin set. ‘I was so mean to Alex at my eighteenth and he doesn’t even remember. Or if he does,’ she added, ‘he’s forgiven me.’
‘Libby …’
‘He is a better person than me.’
‘He’s different,’ Helen said. ‘You’re just different.’
Libby looked up. ‘Do you know how many of my friends have been to visit since I had Ben?’
One hand on her chest, the other still holding the door, Helen took a deep breath. She couldn’t answer the question, but it wouldn’t be many. No, she couldn’t imagine that many of those shiny bright girls at Libby’s eighteenth birthday party would have been back to sit amongst Ben’s nappies, in her tiny flat.
‘None,’ Libby said. ‘Joanna came once and stayed about ten minutes. She had a party to get back for.’
Helen nodded.
‘I can manage, mum.’
‘I know that.’
‘I have to. For Ben’s sake, I have to.’
And what could she say? Libby did have to manage. There was no choice now. No parties to get back to.
‘Everyone,’ Libby whispered, ‘thinks I’ve messed up my life.’
‘Libby,’ Helen sighed. ‘You had a baby early on. That’s all.’
‘I won’t get anything else wrong.’ And as Libby stood, one step lower, her hands clenched to fists and her chin wobbled.
Helen let the door go, her arms reaching for her child. ‘You will always get things wrong,’ she whispered. ‘And that’s OK. And maybe I should have let you see this before.’ She could feel Libby’s back move up and down as she cried, the knuckled bones of her shoulders, where there should have been wings. Because this was girl who was going to fly. Everyone had said it. The child who had insisted on pairing her own socks since she was eight. That was the family joke. On the straight and narrow, striving toward the best grades in every exam she ever took, with Helen always one step behind. When maybe she should have stayed back. Lingered out of sight a while and allowed Libby to wander off the track now and then. ‘It’s OK,’ she whispered, as she always had. ‘Everything will be OK.’
‘I’ll miss you, Mum,’ Libby sobbed. ‘But you need to go.’
And because it was too hard to say what she was thinking, to echo Libby’s words and say, Yes, I need to do this, Libby. I need to go , she didn’t say anything. She kept her arms around her child and held her as close as the day she had been born.