Chapter 11
11
GEMMA
One Tuesday, I was with Crystal as usual for lunch when she asked me, quite suddenly, what I was going to be doing at the weekend. We only normally saw each other, of course, on Mondays and Tuesdays.
I laughed. ‘Same as usual. Housework, shopping, washing. Playing with Poppy. Mum might come over for Sunday dinner. Nothing exciting. Why? What are you up to?’
‘Nothing exciting either.’ She paused, then went on in a rush, ‘I was just wondering whether you’d like to get together. On Saturday perhaps.’
‘Oh.’ I was a bit taken aback. We’d been getting on really well – so much so that I actually found myself laughing quite a lot, now, during our lunches together. She brought me out of myself, and out of my depression, with her odd mixture of sympathy, self-deprecation and humour. But I suppose I’d put her firmly in the category of a work friend. The idea of seeing her outside of my days in the office hadn’t occurred to me. ‘Well… as you know, I’ve got Poppy. I usually put her to bed by seven o’clock so I can’t go?—’
‘Oh, I meant during the day, really. I was thinking perhaps we could meet for a coffee or something? With Poppy, obviously – I’d love to meet her. What do you think? Not if you’re too busy, of course. I’d understand.’
‘Oh, right.’ I thought about it, imagined taking Poppy out to a café, meeting Crystal, having a chat – like this – at the weekend. It would break up the endless monotony of chores and childcare, wouldn’t it? Why not? ‘OK – yes, that’d be lovely, actually.’
Her face broke into a smile. ‘Great! Where do you want to meet? Somewhere near you, to make it easy for you.’
‘OK, well, I’m at Bancombe, just down the road from Bancombe Bay. How about we meet at the beach café there?’
‘Perfect, that’s only a couple of miles from me. The weather’s supposed to be nice, like this, all over the weekend, so sitting outside would be lovely. We could have a walk along the beach after we’ve had our coffee… oh, only if you’ve got time, of course,’ she added quickly, her smile dropping slightly.
She’d sounded so excited by the idea of walking along the beach that for a moment, I wondered if – apart from her self-help group – she didn’t get out much. But I was pleased to think she was looking forward to meeting up, so I smiled back and said yes, that sounded good, and I was sure I could spare the time, that it’d make a nice change.
‘Great!’ she enthused again, taking a sip of her elderflower cordial. ‘It’s a plan. I can’t wait, Gemma!’
I thought about it from time to time during the rest of the week. Can’t wait ? Should I feel flattered, or puzzled? I did enjoy her company, and yes, we’d become good friends in a short time – I’d always be grateful to her for rescuing me at what had been one of the worst moments of my life. But surely she had existing friends of her own, even if only those from her hippy chanting group, to spend time with at weekends? She had no kids – no ties – why would she be so excited about a coffee at the beach café with someone tied to a toddler in a buggy? But in the end I decided to just be happy about it. I didn’t exactly have a plethora of friends myself, queueing up to go out for coffee with me on a Saturday. I’d made the mistake of giving myself up almost completely to Jack and Poppy for company – and meanwhile some of my friends had two or even three children now and were even busier than me. Why not just enjoy this new friendship? We’d have more freedom and more time to chat on a Saturday than we did on working days.
Saturday was a beautiful sunny day, as September days often are in our part of the world, with just a gentle breeze blowing over the outside tables at the beach café. Poppy was in a happy mood, reminding me every few minutes about the ice cream I’d promised her. I found us a table overlooking the beach, and a few minutes later Crystal drifted across the terrace towards us, calling out hello and turning a few heads in her very wide floral cotton trousers and bright orange top. Poppy had been singing a little song to herself, swinging her legs as she sat on one of the chairs patiently waiting for her ice cream, but as I got up to greet Crystal she fell silent, looking anxious.
‘This is Mummy’s friend – I told you we’d be meeting her, didn’t I?’ I reminded her as Crystal pulled up a chair opposite us. ‘Her name’s Crystal.’
‘No,’ said Poppy, hiding her face behind her hands.
I started to apologise, but Crystal brushed it aside.
‘It’s OK, Gemma. Poppy doesn’t know me, does she?’
Poppy lifted one hand away from her face to take a quick peek at her and Crystal gave her a smile, but Poppy hurriedly covered her face again.
‘She’s not normally shy,’ I said. ‘She’s quite outgoing at nursery.’
‘Nothing wrong with being a bit shy with strange adults. Let me get the coffees so you two can stay sitting together. And… what would Poppy like?’
The hands immediately flew away from the face and Poppy shouted, far too loudly for someone supposedly being shy, ‘Ice cream p’ease!’
‘I did promise her an ice cream,’ I said, laughing. ‘But let me get it… or give you the money, at least?—’
‘Absolutely not,’ Crystal insisted as she headed for the counter. ‘My treat. You can pay next time.’
I smiled to myself at the suggestion that there would be a next time. That we’d make a habit of this. I felt happy about it. I was already feeling more cheerful just from being in her company, my worries about money, work, and everything else fading into the background.
‘What sort of ice cream – a cornet?’ Crystal turned back to ask me.
‘Perfect – a small one though. With a dish, please!’ I’d had too much experience of dropped cornets to risk letting Poppy hold one without giving her a safe landing place for it.
‘Of course,’ Crystal said, as if this was a perfectly normal request.
‘Have you got other friends with little children?’ I asked her when she returned with the two coffees and empty bowl on a little tray and the ice cream in her other hand.
‘Um… not really.’ She smiled at Poppy as she put the cornet into her hand, and the bowl on her lap, every bit as if she did it all the time. ‘There you are, angel. Hold it tight!’
‘Not angel !’ Poppy said indignantly, her shyness evidently completely forgotten now. ‘ Poppy !’
‘Say thank you ,’ I reminded her, and – after taking a good lick of the ice cream first – she looked up at Crystal and said, ‘T’ank you, lady.’
‘Her name’s Crystal,’ I reminded her – but Crystal laughed.
‘It’s not often I get called a lady. Enjoy your ice cream, Poppy.’
There wasn’t another sound from her apart from an occasional slurping noise as she devoured the cornet, while we sipped our coffees and chatted. Crystal was asking me about Poppy’s nursery, and I started to explain that I’d always been happy with her two days there – using my free childcare hours – but that Jack and I had planned, before the decision to emigrate to Australia, that we’d have transferred Poppy from nursery to pre-school once she turned three, to give her more of a preparation for school.
‘Anyway, the whole plan obviously got dropped because we thought we’d all be in Australia by now.’
‘And you’ve decided to keep her at nursery now?’
‘For now, yes. Apart from anything else, the original plan was for me to be able to get a full-time job because Poppy would’ve been at pre-school five days a week. But school holiday childcare isn’t easy to find. My mum works part-time and it’s nice enough of her to have Poppy every Friday.’
‘And of course, you haven’t had a chance to look for a full-time job because you didn’t expect?—’
‘—to still be here. Or on my own. So she’ll stay at the nursery. I don’t know what I’ll do when she starts school, though.’
I stopped talking, because I couldn’t help noticing how often Crystal was watching Poppy, smiling in a wistful kind of way, even while we were mid-conversation.
‘I hope this isn’t too difficult for you,’ I said softly, remembering the way Crystal had talked regretfully about not having a child herself.
‘Oh, no, of course not,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s just so nice to see her – to see both of you.’ She lowered her voice as she added, suddenly looking quite emotional despite having denied it, ‘She’s such a beautiful little girl, Gemma. The colour of her hair. It’s so striking.’
‘Yes. Nothing to do with me, I’m afraid. I was a natural blonde when I was Poppy’s age, but unfortunately blonde goes kind of mousy as you get older. You’re lucky, I always think dark hair retains its colour for longer.’
‘Poppy’s got her father’s colouring, then.’
‘Yes, totally.’ I gave a little snort as I went on, ‘Probably the only good thing he’s given her, as it turns out. I certainly hope she’s not going to take after him in any other way.’
‘She’s lovely. You’re very lucky.’
Crystal looked down at her coffee, pretending to be concentrating on stirring it. I wanted to retort that I wasn’t lucky at all, that I considered myself very unlucky to have chosen a man who would treat me and his daughter the way Jack had done. But I’d heard the tremor in her voice, and I understood. I was lucky, because at least I had Poppy. Without her, I’d have given up. I’d probably have been on medication for depression, like Crystal had been, and I might even have ended up joining her self-help group.
I put my hand on hers – trying to ignore, for the moment, the way the remaining ice cream in Poppy’s cornet was beginning to drip down the side, looking likely to miss the bowl and land on the ground – and said, ‘You’re right, I’m lucky to have her, of course. But at least, now, you’ve got a friend, one who understands.’
‘Thank you, love. It is nice to have a new friend – I hope it’s helping you, too?’
But before I could answer, Poppy suddenly started yelling.
‘My ice cream!’ She wriggled down from her chair, sending the bowl flying, and tried to pick up with her fingers the rapidly melting blobs of ice cream landslide that had landed by her feet. By the time I’d stopped her, she’d got sticky melted mess all over her hands, dropped the cone and trodden on it, and was heading for an almighty screaming fit.
‘You can’t eat it now,’ I told her. ‘Come here – let’s just give your hands a?—’
‘I d’opped it! I wanted it!’ she wailed as I set to work with the wet wipes.
‘Come on, it doesn’t matter, you ate nearly all of it, it was melting faster than you could eat.’
‘But I wanted that !’ she sobbed, pointing at the mess on the ground.
‘Ah, never mind, Poppy,’ Crystal said. ‘How about we go down on the beach for a little while instead? The sea should be nice and warm.’
Her tears dried up instantly. ‘Poppy can paddle? Mummy can paddle?’ She gave me a hopeful smile and I couldn’t help laughing.
‘Yes, all right.’
I mouthed Crystal a thank you across the table. I always kept a little towel in my bag for impromptu paddling occasions, and there’s nothing like a paddle in the sea to tame the wildest of toddler melt-downs.
‘It never fails, does it – the promise of a paddle?’ Crystal whispered to me with a grin as we left the café.
And I wondered again where she’d got her experience of children from. Perhaps she had little cousins, or neighbours with kids. Perhaps I’d ask her about it later. Or perhaps I wouldn’t, because I sensed that questions about children were always likely to upset her. I decided that maybe she was just a natural, which made it all the sadder that she hadn’t had any of her own.
And at least, after a good paddle and lots of splashing in the shallow waves down below the beach café, Poppy was in a good frame of mind again and the subject of the dropped ice cream was forgotten. And I think all three of us had enjoyed our morning.
‘We should do it again,’ Crystal said, waving goodbye to Poppy as we parted company.
‘Definitely,’ I agreed. I realised I was smiling. I was so unused to doing it now, it was hurting my face.