Chapter Twenty-Four
It’s stopped raining by the time we leave the ice cream parlour. Arlo and Edith skip ahead of us during the walk back through the park to Gran’s, while Seth hangs back, keeping at least five feet between us at all times.
‘I still can’t believe you’ve got two kids. I’ve kept a houseplant alive for a couple of weeks and I’m giving myself major kudos, so you must be covered in bruises with all the patting on the back you give yourself.’
James snorts. ‘Hardly. An afternoon eating ice cream and playing pinball is lovely, but you haven’t seen the everyday stuff. The arguments over homework. Trying to get them to brush their teeth. The nagging to bring washing down from bedrooms.’
An image of my bedroom back at Mum and Dad’s pops into my head and I feel a wave of shame crash down over me when I see the piles of dirty laundry strewn about the place. I’ve kept on top of my washing while staying at Russell and Jed’s and I vow not to slip into bad habits once they’re back.
‘Seriously though, you’re like a proper grown-up.’
James moves out of the way as a cyclist passes, putting his arm out to shield me even though there’s plenty of room. ‘And you’re what? A pretend grown-up?’
‘Not even that. I’m a teenager languishing in a twenty-five-year-old body.’
James laughs. ‘You what?’
I stop and stretch my arms wide. I see Seth panic out of the corner of my eye, his own feet shuffling to a halt so he doesn’t catch up with us.
‘Look at me.’
James gives a slow nod of his head, his eyebrows pulling down low and causing his forehead to crinkle. ‘I’m looking.’
I pull at my hoodie. ‘I still dress like I did a decade ago. I’m still doing the job I did when I was at college, and I technically still live at home with my mum and dad.’ I set off again, ignoring the baffled look on James’ face. ‘And then look at you with your shit together.’
‘Hardly. I’m renting a room at your gran’s, remember.’
‘Because you’re divorced.’
‘You think getting a divorce is grown-up?’
I shrug. ‘It is the way you’ve done it. I saw the way you were with your ex earlier. There was no screaming and shouting like when my best friend from school’s parents split up. I sometimes think she moved to New Zealand just to get away from the arguing.’
‘I suppose it’s because Carla and I never fell out. There was no animosity or drama. We just realised we wanted more from life. We were really young when we got married – too young – and we’d settled for a life we thought we were supposed to have. I still love Carla – she’s the mother of my children, the person I’ve shared everything with since I was seventeen – but it isn’t the all-consuming love you should feel for your significant other. And Carla feels the same. We both deserve more than what we had.’
‘So you’re not at all jealous about this friend she’s meeting up with today?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This friend she said she was meeting.’ I glance behind me, to make sure Seth is out of earshot. ‘It’s obviously a bloke.’
‘Is it?’
I roll my eyes. ‘Of course it’s a bloke. How long had you been with Carla? Forever, right? You know her friends, so if she was meeting up with one of them, she’d have said their name. I’m meeting Susan .’
‘She doesn’t have a friend called Susan.’
I shove James and roll my eyes again. ‘You know what I mean. The fact she didn’t name the “friend”’ – I make the air quotes – ‘means it was a bloke. She was trying to be subtle about it, but it’s obvious.’
‘Right.’ James nods, but I’m not sure whether he believes my theory or not.
‘Would it bother you? If she was meeting a bloke?’
‘Not at all. I want her to be happy.’
‘See? This is what I’m talking about. You’re a proper grown-up. I want my ex to live miserably for the rest of his life.’
‘Why did you split up?’
I tuck my hands in the sleeves of my hoodie and shove them under my armpits even though it isn’t cold. ‘He cheated on me with one of the barmaids at the Red Lion.’
‘Is that why you made us go to that old man’s pub?’
‘The Fisherman isn’t an old man’s pub.’
James quirks an eyebrow. ‘We were the youngest there by at least four decades.’
‘It was the afternoon. Only the pensioners weren’t at work.’ I scrunch up my nose. ‘And yes, I was avoiding my ex and his skanky barmaid.’
‘The prick deserves to live miserably for the rest of his life for cheating on you.’
I catch James’ eye and smile. ‘He does, doesn’t he?’
‘See, I’m not such a grown-up after all. And why would I want to be? I’d much rather be like those guys.’ He points ahead, where Arlo and Edith are having a sword fight with a couple of lengthy twigs they’ve picked up along the way. Edith taps Arlo on the chest and he falls dramatically to the ground, groaning loudly before he starfishes his arms and legs out and allows his head to loll to one side. He lies very still, his eyes squeezed shut and his tongue sticking out.
‘Come on then.’ Grabbing James’ arm, I march off towards the trees, ignoring the small twigs snapping underfoot.
‘What are we doing?’ James watches me as I stop to search the ground. I spot a large enough twig and stoop to pick it up before handing it to James. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly.’ I grab another twig – it’s not as long as James’, but it’s chunkier and will make a fine sword. ‘En garde!’ Wielding the twig in front of me, I move my left leg back and bend at the knees.
‘You’re serious.’ James’ arms are still by his side, his twig dangling from his fingers. He is defenceless. I lunge, poking him with the twig on the left arm before scuttling backwards. I could have gone in for the kill straight away, but where’s the fun in that? ‘You’re actually doing this?’ James shakes his head, but he laughs and leaps out of the way when I lunge at him again.
‘Victory will be mine.’ I lunge again, aiming my twig at James’ right arm but he twists and avoids contact.
‘You think?’ James springs forward, brandishing his twiggy sword. Yelping, I leap out of the way before counterstriking. James is light on his feet, bouncing out of harm’s way with ease. When I go to strike again, he blocks my move with his sword and bounces once, twice, three times, back and forth before he attempts a strike.
‘God, you’re so embarrassing.’ Back over on the footpath, Seth is watching on in horror as he quickens his pace.
‘What was that?’ James turns towards his son, and I take advantage of the distraction and attack. My twig pokes James in the side, in the fleshy bit below his ribs.
‘ Yes! ’ I raise my sword in the air and skip from foot to foot. ‘Victory is mine!’
‘What? No way. That didn’t count.’ James turns away from Seth, who’s striding towards the park’s iron gates at a pace.
‘It counted. I win.’ I lower my sword and do a little running-man victory dance. It makes James laugh, even though he should be starfished on the soggy ground with his tongue lolling.
‘Okay, okay, you’re quite the swordswoman.’ James tosses his twig on the ground and we catch up with Arlo and Edith, who have abandoned their own sword fight to chase a bunch of poor pigeons. Seth has already left the park, and we find him sitting on the wall outside Gran’s house.
‘Fancy a go on the Xbox with your dad?’ James nudges Seth, who shrugs but slides off the wall and saunters towards the door. ‘It’s set up in my room. Choose a game and I’ll be up in a minute.’ He unlocks the front door, but he pauses before he swings it open. ‘Brace yourself.’ He tilts his head to listen for the sounds of Gran not resting as instructed. But there are none and, miraculously, we find her sitting on the sofa when we troop into the living room. It’s only the yellow dusting cloth poking out from under the cushion that gives her away.
‘Do I have to go home?’
A glow of smugness blooms from my chest at Arlo’s words as I’m helping him into his coat. We’ve spent the rest of the afternoon at Gran’s, dusting off the board games that have been dumped in a corner of the craft room for years, and painting at the kitchen table. Later, while Arlo and Edith burned off some ice-cream-induced energy in the back garden and Seth remained glued to the games console upstairs, James and I cracked on with our crochet sausage dogs under Gran’s supervision. I’m pleased to report that James has struggled with magic loops as much as I have – if not more – and I’m firmly ahead on sausage dog production.
It’s been a fun afternoon, but it’s time to get Arlo home.
‘I’m afraid so. Mummy’s waiting for you.’ Claire called when she arrived home to an empty flat, wondering where we were. ‘But we can hang out again, can’t we?’
‘Will Edith be here?’
The smugness dims a little. So it isn’t me who Arlo is reluctant to leave but his new pal, even though it was me who invented superhero salad and bought him a massive ice cream.
‘We’ll have to arrange a play date, won’t we?’ I zip the coat up carefully and hook the Bunny backpack onto Arlo’s shoulders. ‘Ready? Shall we go and find Mummy?’ I’m dying to know how her date went with Danny – I haven’t been on a date myself for so long, so I have to live vicariously through my friend. ‘Don’t forget your paintings. They should be dry by now.’
‘You can keep this one.’ Arlo passes me one of his paintings. He’s painted three pictures, all of them depicting his new favourite ice cream, and I’m touched by the gesture.
‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’ I crouch down so I can hug the boy. ‘I’ll take it home with me and put it on my fridge.’
We have bonded. I can’t wait to tell Claire about our day – after she’s spilled all the juicy goss from her date, obviously.
Claire has already changed out of her jeans and sweater by the time we get to her flat. She’s wearing a pair of flannel pyjamas, her face scrubbed of make-up and her hair is wrapped in a towel. She smiles from ear to ear when she sees her son, but I can tell she’s missing the sparkle of an amazing first date.
‘Well? How did it go?’
With Arlo transfixed by kids’ TV, Claire and I have sneaked off to the kitchen for a post-date dissection.
‘It went really well. We had a laugh, and it felt easy and comfortable, you know? Danny already knows about Arlo, so I didn’t have to worry about if or when I should tell him, so I could just relax and have fun.’ Claire places her ‘nepapoltan’ painting onto the front of the fridge and secures it with a Blackpool Zoo magnet. ‘And we had a lot of fun.’ She crosses the kitchen and closes the door. ‘We went back to his, and you know… But afterwards, he changed. Went all cool and dickhead-like. He said we should be just mates. I didn’t even have my knickers back on at this point.’
‘Oh my God. What a knob.’
‘What the hell is wrong with me, Cleo? Why do I do this to myself?’
‘There’s nothing wrong with you, other than your shitty taste in men.’ I pull Claire into a hug and give her a big squeeze until she giggles and tells me I’m going to crack her ribs.
‘I think I’m going to give up on dating. It isn’t worth it.’
‘Or – and this is a crazy idea – you could try dating men who don’t have tattoos on their faces?’
Claire shrugs. ‘Maybe. I just don’t want to settle for someone boring. Why can’t I find someone edgy and exciting who’ll fall head over heels in love with me? Is that too much to ask?’
‘Definitely not, and your perfect guy is out there somewhere, wondering when he’s going to find a gorgeous, vivacious woman who’ll fall head over heels in love with him. But he probably doesn’t have a tattoo on his face.’
‘You’re really not into facial tattoos, are you?’
‘Nope. Because I’m normal.’
Claire snorts. ‘You? Normal? Since when?’ She nudges me playfully, and I’m happy to see a smile lighting up her face again. Claire may have been bruised by Danny, but she’ll dust herself off and move on. Just like I am, with Paul. Dane may have emotionally bruised me, but I’m not beaten and I deserve to be happy.
It’s as I’m dropping off to sleep that night when Paul finally replies to my earlier ‘I just got a 6 year old boy to eat SALAD. How amazing am I?’ message. It’s only a thumbs-up emoji, but he’s probably been busy working. I reply with an emoji of my own – a simple smiley face – and drift off to sleep while mentally planning our future together. A future where I’m successful in both love and career.