Chapter 22
I am mortified. Waking up the next morning, I have the worst case of The Fear that I’ve ever experienced. What the hell did I think I was doing? I know Zach is charming, easy on the eye and all those things that made last night feel like a good idea. But I’ve got to work with this guy. We’re not twenty-something interns. We’re senior managers, with staff and budgets and reputations .
I have never done anything like this with a colleague, unless you count one minor indiscretion at a BBC Christmas party, when I sang ‘Yes Sir, I Can Boogie’ on karaoke with one of the maintenance guys who serviced the printers. And while there is a part of me that would love to say I don’t give a toss about what anyone thinks because I’m a grown-up and it’s nobody else’s business, the reality is, I do. I really, really do.
I am a mother of two. I take my career very seriously. It’s bad enough that people know I’m twice divorced and make all the judgements about my baggage that they do (Rose thinks I’m being paranoid about this, but she’s wrong). All of this brings me to one conclusion.
This cannot get out.
The only saving grace is that it’s the weekend and I don’t have to see Zach until Monday. In fact, I might try and rearrange some meetings so I can work from home. In the meantime, I decide I’m going to try and put him out of my mind entirely. It’s a largely futile exercise, especially when a text arrives from him minutes after I’ve met Rose for a walk in the park on Saturday afternoon before the kids get back from Brendan’s.
I’ve changed my mind about the British weather. I enjoyed last night very much. Z x
I feel my breath suspended somewhere in my chest and quickly stuff my phone in my pocket, without replying.
There was a point in my life when I was never away from this park. It’s only five minutes from our house and when Leo was little it was the one guaranteed way of letting him expend some energy. I’ve been here in bitter winters and glorious summers. Now, it’s somewhere in between, a spring day that can’t make up its mind, dry but with glimmers of cool sunshine pushing through grey clouds.
‘I keep meaning to ask,’ I say, deciding to change the subject, ‘what have you decided to do about the work on your house?’ Rose and Angel were due to have their kitchen knocked through and extended this month. They’d been waiting almost 14 months for a slot from the in-demand builder their architect recommended.
‘Oh, I’ve put it on ice. I couldn’t face it.’
‘I’m not surprised. You can have the nicest, most reliable builder in the world but having your house full of dust and burly blokes every day is a nightmare at the best of times.’
‘Exactly. They’ve been really nice about it and said we don’t have to go to the end of their list though – it’s booked in at the end of the year, when I’m hoping to feel better equipped.’
I glance across to her. ‘You already look a lot brighter, you know.’
‘Do I?’ she says, clearly pleased. ‘I’ve been trying a bit of mindfulness, which is helping. Didn’t you do that once?’
‘Yes, I had an app for it. It was so bossy it drove me mad. It would be pinging every hour of the day telling me it was time to relax. I don’t have the temperament for meditation.’
She chuckles. ‘No, I think you’re a lost cause, Lisa. I am feeling perkier though, now you mention it. Maybe we could meet for a drink next time. I don’t fancy more than a glass at the moment, but it’d be nice to go out.’
‘Oh, then we must do that,’ I say, deciding not to mention the vow I made this morning to never touch alcohol again in my life.
‘Or if you can get someone to watch Jacob, Keanu Reeves has a new movie out,’ she says.
‘If anyone’s going to perk you up, it’s him.’
Rose always said Keanu was the main reason she wanted to work in broadcasting. At 14, she thought it was her best chance of meeting him. I’ve assured her that there are far less noble reasons for choosing a career but, regardless, she’s never come within a sniff of him. As Jeff points out, though, there’s still time.
We spot a free bench and take a seat.
‘Listen, I know I’ve said this before, but I really am grateful for all your support throughout this, Lisa. Having you there with me at all those appointments, especially the early ones, really helped.’
I tut. ‘Don’t be silly – you don’t need to thank me. I owe you, remember.’
Rose was the first person I phoned after Brendan told me he was leaving me. Just thinking about that evening makes me feel tense, even after all these years. It was on 6 January. The first day back at school for the kids and peak season for divorce lawyers. Brendan is nothing if not conventional.
Things had been strained between us for three or four months and Christmas had been difficult. I felt as if I was permanently pretending everything was okay, even though I had an ominous knot in my stomach that had nothing to do with brussels sprouts.
I couldn’t work out what had changed exactly, or why we were suddenly not getting along. Brendan had never really had a temper, but he was suddenly, inexplicably vile – picking fights at the slightest thing, complaining resentfully at basically everything. I couldn’t do a thing right and I literally didn’t know why.
We could not have continued like that but I hadn’t appreciated how unhappy he was until, in a heart-to-heart at some point between Christmas and New Year, he suggested we go to couples’ therapy. That alone shocked me to the core. I couldn’t believe it was happening. But I booked an appointment, absolutely certain that this would be the thing that would make Brendan snap out of it – whatever ‘it’ was.
Only, on the day in question, he didn’t show up and I had to sit awkwardly with a nice woman called Deborah, chatting about how much I liked her jumper, which she told me she’d got in the Oliver Bonas sale.
When it became clear he wasn’t coming, she suggested I go home, make myself a cup of tea and not to worry, she wouldn’t charge me. Which was kind of her, because I suspect she already knew she was unlikely to get any repeat business out of us. When I arrived home, Brendan was sitting at the table, nursing a can of lager. It was 11am. We were supposed to be doing Dry January.
He looked up at me and his bottom lip was trembling. He said something trite and soap opera-ish, about how he couldn’t do this anymore . The row that followed was short, explosive and may possibly have broken a world record in the number of expletives crammed into three minutes.
I remember sitting on the kitchen floor, unable to catch my breath, as I pulled up the only number I ever phoned in a true emergency. Within twenty minutes of Brendan’s departure, Rose’s Peugeot hatchback screamed onto the pavement outside like it was taking part in a drive-by shooting.
I sobbed into her arms that day, for the first of what would be multiple occasions. Of all the friends who supported me during that horrible time – when I had to tell my parents, then the kids, then move house and essentially deconstruct my entire life – she was the one who was easiest to be around. She was my scaffolding, propping me up when all I wanted to do was crumble.
I always knew I’d do the same for her. But I suppose I never thought I’d have to.
‘Fancy seeing you two reprobates here.’
We look up and spot Jeff walking towards us, with one of his cocker spaniels on a lead. He’s wearing an expensive-looking rib-knit sweater, with pale blue and white stripes that make him look ridiculously stylish.
Jeff is also dressed well.
‘Love the dog’s jumper,’ Rose says. ‘Where are the other two though?’
I bend down to stroke the animal and its tail begins to wag.
‘They’re at home. Because for some reason, Pascal here hates me, so Andy thinks we need some time together. To bond ,’ he says ominously.
‘I’m sure he doesn’t hate you,’ I argue. ‘Look at him. Those eyes! The little waggy tail! He’s so cute!’
‘Yes and I treat him like a prince. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it. Watch.’ He bends down to pet Pascal, who turns his head away with a disdainful curl of his top lip. ‘I had a boyfriend whose mother used to look at me like that,’ Jeff sighs, standing up. ‘Come on, let’s walk together. You two might put him in a better mood.’
We continue our stroll and the first thing that Jeff brings up is the one subject I’d rather avoid. ‘I haven’t seen you since the wine night, Lisa. You’re a dark horse, aren’t you? Your date was an absolute delight .’
Rose looks at me, astonished. ‘What date?’
‘It wasn’t a date,’ I assure her.
‘Looked like it to me,’ Jeff says, leaning around me. ‘It was someone you guys work with. Zach?’
Rose’s feet come to a standstill. ‘You went on a date with Zach? My stand-in?’
‘It wasn’t a date,’ I repeat firmly, refusing to stop walking. ‘It was a stupid school event. I only let him come because I needed to flog the last ticket.’
‘But I thought he was an arsehole?’ she says, scurrying to catch up with me.
‘I’ve warmed to him. Slightly. But it still wasn’t a date.’
I suddenly realise that I’m blushing. It does not go unnoticed. ‘Are you all right? Your cheeks have gone very pink,’ says Rose.
‘Must be a hot flush,’ I reply, looking straight ahead and focusing on a toddler terrorising a mallard with some crusts.
Jeff raises an eyebrow. ‘If that’s a hot flush, it’s a delicate one. Our poor office manager Adele looked as if she’d stepped out of a shower the other day. I had to go out at lunchtime to buy her a mini fan.’
‘That was nice of you, Jeff,’ Rose says.
‘Hmm. I think it would’ve been more likely to propel a Boeing 747 than cool her scalp down. Still, hopefully it’s the thought that counts.’
‘Exactly. I’m sure she feels like she’s got an ally,’ Rose continues. ‘And it’s good that we can talk about the menopause openly these days. My mother never even mentioned it when I was growing up. It was like a dirty secret. You just had to get on with things.’
‘Oh, mine never stopped talking about it,’ Jeff says. ‘She went through a phase of constantly losing her car keys – we found them in the freezer behind some peas once – and she would say, “Oh, this is it. It’s happening. It’s The Change! ” I was only about nine and very worried about what the hell she was going to change into. A lizard?’
I laugh, as Rose decides to return to a subject she is far from finished with. ‘So tell me about Zach, Lisa. Is he good at his job? By which I mean . . . my job?’
‘Not as good as you,’ I tell her. ‘So don’t be worried, because you have no reason to be.’
‘You don’t think he’d try and keep it, do you?’ she asks.
‘Absolutely not. One hundred per cent certain. I’ve already told him I would have to kill him if he tried to do that.’
‘Well, if that’s the case then I think you should go on a date with him.’
Jeff sniggers.
‘It. Was. Not. A. Date,’ I say, looking up just in time to witness her winking at him.
‘My car is up there, so I’m going to head off,’ Jeff says, turning to Rose. ‘Give me a hug, you brave woman. Now, I know you keep saying there’s nothing we can do for you while you’re having your treatment, but there must be something .’
She shakes her head. ‘There isn’t.’
‘Oh, come on . I’m sure you can think of something. Let me run an errand for you,’ he says.
‘I don’t have any errands that need to be run.’
‘Well, let me make you a lasagne,’ he insists. ‘Or a shepherd’s pie. Go on, please.’
‘You’re vegan,’ I laugh.
‘I know but turning up on the doorstep with a tofu stir fry doesn’t have the same ring to it.’ He looks down at Pascal. ‘Does it, my little chickadee?’
Pascal raises his eyes, lifts his leg and promptly empties his bladder.