Twenty-Four
Claire and I sit in Claire’s large kitchen diner, finishing off a bottle of red wine. We’ve all enjoyed a very tasty homemade lasagna with garlic bread and salad. Claire and I remained at the table while Alice – who is back home for the summer holidays – and Freddie took Rosie through to the lounge to play some computer games with her. George politely asked to be excused after dinner, so he could go and meet Lucy.
‘Your children really are a credit to you, Claire,’ I tell her, sipping on my wine. ‘They are so polite and well mannered.’
‘Thank you. Rosie is a delight too. I see so much of you in her, Frankie.’
‘Really?’
Claire nods. ‘She’s quite laid back on the surface, but she’s got a real determined streak running through her. Just like you had when you were younger.’
I smile. ‘Yes, she has. I really hope she makes a better job of her life than I have.’
‘What do you mean?’
I shrug. ‘Oh, you know, something better than being a single parent, living on benefits in a tiny flat, with no garden, no view, and, most of the time, no hope either.’
Claire looks genuinely shocked. ‘But you’re not on benefits, are you? You have a job?’
‘I have a part-time job that’s topped up with benefits.’
‘But I thought you worked at the gallery?’
It must be the wine. I’ve already said more than I planned to tell Claire about my life. I planned to fudge over the gorier details and focus on the things that sounded better. ‘I used to work at the gallery. But I left a few years ago now. I work in a local corner shop part time these days.’
Claire stares at me, trying to piece together what I’ve just told her, and I know she wants to ask why. But I assume that she won’t. The Claire I used to know wouldn’t dare, but I’ve forgotten this is a new Claire now, one who will
say boo to a goose. And today that goose is me.
‘Why did you leave – you loved that job?’
‘I had to,’ I reply reluctantly. ‘I got . . . ill, and I had to give it up. I’ve been working in the local corner shop for a while now. They’re really good at working around Rosie and school hours – I can pick her up from school and not have to pay for childcare.’
‘What do you mean you got ill?’ Claire asks with concern. ‘With what?’
I take another swig from my glass. ‘Depression.’
‘Depression?’ Claire looks just as traumatised as my insides feel from telling her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Are you all right now?’
Depression crept up on me slowly. I didn’t even know that was what was wrong with me until I saw a segment about it on daytime television, and everything both the TV doctor and the callers to the phone-in were saying struck a chord.
I sheepishly went to my GP with my symptoms – thinking she’d tell me not to worry and it was a phase or something. But to my surprise, she prescribed antidepressant medication immediately. I didn’t think I was that bad, but my doctor seemed quite concerned and suggested many things to help, including therapy, but she was extremely keen for me to start on the medication immediately. Thinking she was being a little overdramatic, I put off taking it at first, thinking I might be able to shake it off if I tried. But after one particularly bad spell, when I couldn’t even get to work, and could barely look after Rosie when she came home from school, let alone myself, eventually I gave in and took the pills, and I was shocked by how different I felt after only a few days.
Colours suddenly seemed brighter, the world seemed a lighter, friendlier place and, for the first time since Rosie’s birth, I slept more than a few hours at a time. A dense fog, like the sea mists in St Felix that would settle over the waves and stay until the tide turned, lifted from both my brain and vision.
My own internal tide turned just after Rosie turned six years old. It took away the mist that was hanging over my life, and I’m happy to say so far it hasn’t returned since.
‘Yes, I’m fine now,’ I try to say as reassuringly as I can. ‘It’s under control, anyway. I was on medication for a while, but now my main therapy is painting. When I have the time and the room to do it, that is.’
‘Oh, Frankie, I’m cross you never told me, but I’m pleased you feel better now. That’s such a shame you had to give up your job though.’
‘Yeah, I just couldn’t do it any more. They were good to start with, they tried to make it work. But the stress was too much. People think working in an art gallery is a nice, relaxed job, but there’s a bit more that goes on behind the scenes.’
‘And you had to leave your nice apartment too?’
‘Yes, sadly. I just couldn’t afford it any more. But we’re happy where we are now. And the people are nice around us. There’s quite the community spirit in our block.’
‘You live in a tower block?’ Claire is trying to hide the fact she’s horrified at the thought. ‘Gosh, I’m sorry; that makes me sound quite snobby, doesn’t it?’
I smile. ‘It’s fine, Claire. I’d have probably done the same a few years ago.’
‘No, it’s not fine. I shouldn’t judge you. It could be a lovely place for all I know.’
‘It’s not, but thanks for trying.’
‘Oh, Frankie.’ Claire puts her hand over mine. ‘I’m sorry you’ve been through all that. Depression is a horrible thing. There are ladies who come to my group who are terribly depressed with the state of their lives. Some of them are on medication too.’
Claire eventually attended the support group that Marilyn, Mandy’s slightly odd relative, had suggested to her and, after a few years, when her life was back on track, Claire took over the running of it, which she still did voluntarily today.
‘Doesn’t surprise me. I’ve heard doctors deal out antidepressants like sweeties. But they helped me, so I can’t complain too much.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if some of the others have been on antidepressants too,’ Claire says. ‘Mandy went through all that with her sister, didn’t she? And Rob works in Hollywood – I bet drugs are as easy to get there as a Cornish pasty is to get here in St Felix.’
‘Probably. How is Rob? Have you heard from him lately?’
‘He’s OK, I think, I haven’t heard from him in a while, though, come to think of it. Have you seen his latest movie?’
I shake my head.
‘Have you seen any of his movies?’ Claire asks, almost reproachfully.
‘Not really my thing.’ I try to fob her off, along with, ‘I’ve been busy, Claire,’ when she raises her eyebrows at me.
‘For the last ten years?’ she asks.
‘OK, maybe I could have tried a bit harder to watch them,’ I say eventually.
‘Still in love with him?’ Claire asks bluntly.
‘No! Why would you say that?’
Claire shrugs. ‘I don’t know, what other reason would you have for avoiding seeing him, if you’re not still harbouring feelings for him?’
‘I can assure you it’s nothing like that,’ I say firmly. ‘Anyway, even if I was, there wouldn’t be much point, would there? Isn’t he getting married soon?’
‘You know about that?’ Claire grins. ‘I think that’s off now.’
‘Really? Why?’
‘Now that I don’t know. Could be any reason knowing Rob. He seems to get through them, doesn’t he?’
I nod. I did know that Rob had quite the reputation in the media as a ladies’ man. None of his reported relationships ever last more than a few months, it seemed.
‘We’ll all find out tomorrow night at Eddie’s party, won’t we?’ Claire continues.
‘Is Rob coming to that?’ I ask, shocked to hear this. ‘I didn’t think he would.’
‘So Eddie says. Rob texted him the other day and said would it still be all right for him to come. Eddie’s delighted and Dexter is really excited to meet him. Apparently, he’s a big fan of Rob’s films.’
‘He would be.’ I smile. Dexter and Eddie have been together for the last ten years. They met the day Eddie went to the estate agent, after Marilyn suggested he go there. Dexter was looking in the window when Eddie arrived. The estate agent was late opening up, so they got chatting, realised they were both looking for a business in the area, and not only that but something in the catering line too.
And if all that wasn’t strange enough, when the estate agent finally arrived, she told them that she had a brand-new listing – the café on Morvoren Cove was up for sale. Would either of them be interested in taking over the business?
So Eddie and Dexter, partners in both love and in business, run it together as a café in the day and a restaurant at night, and they seem to be making a wonderful job of it, if the reviews on Trip Advisor are anything to go by.
‘Dexter’s great, isn’t he?’ I ask Claire. ‘So good for our Eddie.’
Claire nods. ‘Sure is. I’ve never seen him happier than he’s been in the last few years. I think getting the business off the ground took a lot out of them to begin with, but now it seems to be flying.’
‘Good for them,’ I say, meaning it, but at the same time feeling a pang of jealousy.
‘What’s up?’ Claire asks perceptively.
‘Nothing.’ I lie.
‘ Frankie?
’
It’s no good, Claire has known me too long. Even though we don’t see much of each other these days, she still knows me better than anyone.
‘All right.’ I sigh. ‘It’s just everyone seems to be doing so well these days. Eddie has Dexter and the café. Mandy is flying high with her own tech business – and
she has a new partner. Suzy is an MP now, for goodness’ sake, and her husband runs his own events firm. And I’m not even going to mention Rob! And before you ask – yes, I am jealous. Of all of them. They’re successful, they’ve got their lives together, and I’m living in a tiny flat, working in a corner shop, and just about managing to get by.’
‘What about Rosie?’ Claire asks with concern. ‘She must count for something good in your life?’
‘Of course she does! I didn’t mean that. Rosie is everything. She is
my life. She’s what I get out of bed every day for. She’s the only
reason most days.’
‘But that’s success right there,’ Claire says. ‘You’ve not only given birth to a beautiful human being, but you’ve nurtured her and helped her become the lovely little girl that she is today. You’ve done that, and you’ve done it all on your own, Frankie. That’s a huge achievement in itself.’
Claire is right – of course she is.
‘So have you,’ I reply. ‘And you’ve done it three times.’
‘But I wasn’t on my own. I had Jonathan to begin with, and then I had Mum helping me out. I don’t think I could have coped if it was just me. I’m in awe of you, Frankie. You don’t give yourself enough credit. And I don’t exactly have a career, do I? I work in my friend’s beach café.’
‘But you have all this.’ I wave my hand around the room. ‘This is a beautiful house, Claire. You should be proud.’
‘Yes, it is. But it was my parents’ house,’ Claire protests. ‘I inherited it mortgage-free. If it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t live here. I’m one of the lucky ones – when my marriage fell apart I had somewhere to go. So many women don’t.’
We stare at each other for a moment, and then we smile.
‘So what if all the others have great careers,’ Claire says, refilling both our glasses with the last of the wine. ‘We’re the only ones who have children. Perhaps the others are jealous of us?’
‘I doubt it,’ I reply, grimacing. ‘But for now, let’s drink to everyone’s successes in life, both monetary and . . . procreatory too!’ I grin. ‘That’s not a word, I know. But I can’t think of a better one right now.’
‘To all of us!’ Claire lifts her glass. ‘Whatever we’ve been good at so far in life! May there be much more success and, more importantly, happiness to come!’