3. The Ice Skater
THREE
The Ice Skater
Saturday, 12 January, 1.30pm
Grace brought Mia to brunch today. I can’t believe she’s a teenager already. She’s so cute and confident. I couldn’t help thinking, if things had worked out for me, I might have a twenty-something daughter or son now, and maybe more younger ones. My daughter could be sitting with us right now. A member of the Brunch Bunch. Wouldn’t that be something? A completely different life. I might even be a grandmother and looking after their kids instead of going on a date today. But I can’t let myself dwell on that for too long. Thinking of what could have been is surely the path to unhappiness.
I snapped out of it and told them about my upcoming date this afternoon.
‘You’re going on a date? Aren’t you, like, too old for that?’ Mia said, then looked perplexed when we all laughed.
I recounted the gory details about The Opera Buff while she was in the loo. Leila was pleased I’d had sex. Finally. Grace was obsessed with the cape for some reason. She said she can’t watch Carmen ever again.
10.30pm
The best bit about the date was that I didn’t break any bones. But that could be because what I did for an hour on the ice rink could hardly be classed as skating. Close up, the rink was huge, the sun was shining, the skaters were happy, and there were loads of kids holding onto cute plastic penguins for balance.
My date said he couldn’t believe I’d never tried ice skating, while I delayed the inevitable by taking an awfully long time putting on my skates.
‘I’m terrified and a bit rubbish at anything needing good balance,’ I confessed.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll look after you,’ he said. Sweet.
I stood on the blades, with his help, and thought it didn’t feel too bad. He held my hands and I had to look up at him as he was pretty tall. Height, tick. He had light brown hair, cut short on the sides and curly on top, lovely green eyes and a warm smile. Cute face, tick. I was fine with him giving me a double spin. Clutching his arm with both hands, I walked onto the rink heading straight for the side railings for support. It was totally different being on ice. I didn’t like feeling so unstable. The idea of skating round the rink with him was appealing, but my hands protested by supergluing themselves to the railings.
‘You go round a few times and let me try on my own first,’ I insisted, and watched him skate away gracefully while I gripped the sides with both hands for dear life, facing away from the rink and barely managing to stay vertical. Then my feet flailed, and I slipped backwards, fully stretched, belly down, my hands still holding on and my feet trying to run away from me. My arms are toned and strong from carrying my rucksack while I travelled but this was a different kind of workout. Also, how was I supposed to be sexy and flirty from that position?
‘Do you need help to get up?’ a boy asked (yes, a boy – he couldn’t have been more than ten years old).
‘Yes, please,’ I whispered and reached out with one hand, but he pushed me up by my bottom until I was vertical. I wished I could melt into the ice and disappear.
The Ice Skater whooshed towards me and asked how I was getting on.
‘I’m fine, just finding my feet. This is great. I love it,’ I lied. ‘You go on and I’ll catch up.’ That wasn’t going to happen. If only I could have conquered my fear. I gave myself a pep talk and started, very slowly, to move around the rink still clutching the sides.
‘Come on. You can do it,’ shouted a dad grinning from the sidelines.
‘Come on. You can do it,’ copied the little boy in his lap.
I noticed I’d attracted quite an audience. I was a circus clown goofing around the stage with comedy falls while in the main show, acrobats performed amazing feats.
‘Just let go. You’ll be fine,’ shouted a young woman, chuckling.
A rink steward came up to me. ‘Do you want to try one of these? It’ll help with your balance,’ he said, offering a penguin.
The humiliation. I declined. But I wasn’t ready to give up. Fired entirely by shame and needing to get away from my ‘fans’, I skidded around the edge until I came to the open entrance. After several false starts, I let go and rushed for the other side just as a group of five/six-year-olds were being ushered in.
I remember the rest of it in slow motion. As I hurled myself forward, I felt my skates slip backwards, and my arms instinctively reached for something to break my fall. Unfortunately, within my reach were two little boys. I grabbed one with each hand and took them down with me, their bright smiles contorting into grimaces as I did so. Next thing, I was sprawled on the ground face down, half on the ice and half outside the rink. The boys were crying and the other kids screaming as the mums rushed to their children and checked them for injuries. As I got up onto my knees, they turned their fury onto me.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, it was a reflex. Are they OK?’ I asked.
‘You should be ashamed of yourself. A grown woman using children to break her fall,’ one of them said.
‘Attacking children, more like,’ fumed another.
Relieved that nobody was injured, I let them vent their anger, mainly because I was on my knees and couldn’t get up. Then there was a whoosh, and The Ice Skater was next to me and helping me up. He told the mums to chill. It was an accident, and no harm was done.
‘I think I want to leave,’ I said, defeated.
We got our things and walked in silence to a nearby café where we sat stirring our coffees, neither knowing what to say. He was probably thinking the adventurous date hadn’t quite worked out. Then our eyes met, and we burst out laughing.
‘Those mums were fierce. They were about to shred you alive.’
‘You rescued me from the mama bears. Thank you.’ I sighed with exhaustion.
‘Taking down two kids in one go. That’s impressive,’ he teased.
‘Thanks for seeing the funny side. And sorry if the date didn’t go as planned.’ I wondered what he thought of me then.
‘There’s still time to get to know each other,’ he said and winked. That was more like it.
‘Do you always suggest sex on the first date?’ I smiled and perused him.
‘No, I didn’t mean that.’ He blushed. ‘Honestly, a lot of women my age say they want a relationship but, in reality, just want one-night stands. That’s not for me. Your profile was different. You sounded more … discerning. That’s why I picked you, and I’m glad I did. This may sound old-fashioned, but I’m looking for a relationship and I don’t want to rush into sex. I hope you feel the same way.’
Just my luck to find the only man in London who wants to wait for sex. Yes, he was attractive, and I could see myself rolling around with him. But I don’t want to break anybody’s heart any more than I want mine broken again. I definitely do not want a relationship. I’m not proud of what I did next. While he was paying the bill at the counter, and I was waiting for him outside, a bus pulled up and I jumped on it. He rushed out, calling after me, while I mouthed ‘sorry’ from the window as the bus started moving.
Sunday, 13 January, 9.30am
I’m aching all over from yesterday’s stretching, hanging from railings and pushing over children. It was disappointing I couldn’t conquer my fear of losing control, or I might have learnt ice skating. If I’d been a sexy skater instead of a comedy one, he might have got the hots for me and cut to the chase instead of wanting to wait. I acted like a teenager and ran away because I couldn’t cope with the kind of intimacy he wanted. I’m not capable of making that sort of emotional commitment right now, but still, I could have handled it better. I should have thought about his feelings and explained myself instead of dashing off to avoid facing my inner turmoil. I texted him and apologised but he didn’t reply. Who can blame him? I’m ashamed of myself.
P.S. I wonder if I’d have been a fierce mama bear. Yes, probably.
1.00pm
Joy came earlier. No mention of why she’d come again so soon, but she is the cleaning queen, so I didn’t complain. If Aggie and Kim have me on their TV programme to ask, How Clean is Your House? I’d say, spotless, thank you. Her timekeeping drives me mad, but I missed her when she went home to the Philippines for a WHOLE month last year. I couldn’t bear it if she stops coming now that she’s set up her own cleaning company. I’m sure she does my house herself purely for sentimental reasons because I was her first client.
She peeped over my shoulder while I was checking out a profile.
‘He too young, too handsome for Sophia.’
Shut. Up.
Going out to escape. I’m sure Ace wouldn’t mind me being a bit early.
11.30pm
I walked through Clapham Common and arrived at Ace’s half an hour early. As I approached the house, the door opened, and he came out with a younger woman who was wearing pink running gear and had a sleek blonde ponytail. They had a long embrace then looked into each other’s eyes, and she stroked his cheek and kissed him on the forehead. It looked very intimate. I felt a body shudder of realisation. He’s obviously having an affair, and so brazen to bring her to his house. I always had him down as one of the good guys. Why is he doing this to Kelly? I couldn’t bear to confront him, so I hid behind a tree before he saw me, and thought he’d confide in me when I went back at the appointed time.
Ace looked ashen when he opened the door and didn’t make eye contact. He made us coffee and we sat at the island eating Digestives. I couldn’t bear the tension.
‘What’s going on, Ace? You look terrible.’
He rubbed the coffee stains on the marble worktop. ‘I’m just going to say it … Kelly and I are getting divorced.’ He looked up for my reaction. Open-mouthed, I dropped my biscuit into my mug. He fished it out for me with a spoon.
‘What? Why? I don’t understand,’ I babbled. ‘When did this happen? Is it because you’re having an affair?’
‘No!’ he said, indignant.
Why was he lying to me? I told him he could tell me anything, but he was adamant he wasn’t having an affair.
‘Let’s just say it was irreconcilable differences.’
‘No, let’s not just say that. Tell me what’s happened, Ace.’
‘I can’t talk about it. It was … something unforgivable, a dreadful betrayal. She’s moved out and my marriage is over. Please don’t ask for details. Promise me you won’t keep asking questions. I can’t deal with it.’
I promised. I wanted to tell him I knew already, to shout at him for being stupid and ruining his marriage, but his eyes were moist and his mouth so droopy, I stopped myself and thought he’d tell me when he was ready. I wanted to console him, but I was also seething inside. I didn’t move. He broke the silence.
‘Jamaica was great.’
‘Was it?’
‘Yeah. Two of my orchestra mates went with me and we did a charity gig. Raised ￡5,000 for the local primary school.’
‘You must be proud of yourself.’
‘Aunt Cherry was proud. She still helps at the school.’
Awkward silence. I couldn’t chitchat like nothing had happened.
‘Anyway, I’d better go,’ I said, but immediately felt guilty for leaving him. I should be more understanding. When I broke up with The Traitor, I ran away abroad and hid from the questions, so I shouldn’t be surprised Ace doesn’t want to talk about his breakup.
‘I’m sorry about you and Kelly.’
‘Thank you. It is what it is.’
It is what it is? How could he be so resigned to it? I wanted to shake him by the shoulders and bring back the kind, caring, spirited man that I know him to be. Or at least I thought I knew.
‘Why don’t you fight for her? How can you just give up, Ace? I don’t understand. Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?’
‘You promised, Phia. No questions. There’s nothing else to say. I know you always have great advice when it comes to relationship problems, but even you can’t help this time. It’s over.’
‘Your marriage was my one beacon of hope,’ I said.
‘I thought you said you don’t want all that.’
‘I don’t … no, I don’t. Look how upset you are. Love is painful. But … the world has changed since you last dated. It’s brutal being single out there and I don’t want that for you.’
I looked at him and he was so sad, my heart broke for him a little. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Not really. It’s like I’ve been dismantled and put back together but some of the pieces were left out. I’m not fully functional. I feel as if I was plucked out of my life and dropped in a new world I don’t recognise.’ He let out a lingering sigh. ‘But I guess it’s also a chance for a new life and I’m going to make the most of that. I’ll be OK. In time.’
I gave him a long hug. I admire his positive attitude and openness to an uncertain future, but I left his house feeling even more disillusioned with love, and glad to be single. When I got home, I rooted through my desk and found the only surviving photo of my wedding. We looked so happy and full of hope. I regret burning the rest of the photos in a blaze of fury, even though I no longer recognise the grinning woman in the frilly silk ivory dress with the overly teased hair.