Chapter 41
‘Work,’ said Brian, during one of their regular chats over a bottle of malt whisky in his predecessor’s sitting room, where Joe was even getting used to the dusty mantelpiece and antimacassars, ‘is the best way to cope when life gets tough.’
He gave Joe a knowing look. ‘Sorry you’re leaving, son. Still, it was good of you to bring me this. Always fancied a laptop, I did.’
Joe gave the required smile. ‘I had a spare at home, and I thought it might help with the editing of the MY SKOOL! book.’
Already Brian’s thick old fingers were moving at quite a speed over the keyboard. ‘You’re a good lad, Joe. Mind you, I’ve got to confess that at the beginning I had my doubts along with everyone else, but now – where did they put that Q? – I reckon that Corrybank and Puddleducks need someone like you.’
He let out a cry of triumph. ‘There it is. The Q. Forgot it was right up there on the left. What a daft place to put it. By the way, did I tell you that I went along to get my bone marrow tested for that lad at playgroup?’ He snorted. ‘My innards are probably ancient enough to belong to the Natural History Museum, especially after my heart attack, but any road, I wasn’t suitable, more’s the pity. Still, thought I’d do my bit, as it were.’
He stood up to refill Joe’s glass. ‘I’d have liked to have helped the little lad. Still, I intend to do my bit by coming along to that disco of yours tonight. No, don’t look like that. I’ve checked with my doctor and she says it’s quite all right.’
‘You’ll get to meet my ex-wife,’ Joe said.
Brian frowned. ‘What do you want to bring her along for, after everything you’ve told me about her?’ Considering he had only let slip the odd fact during their friendship and that Brian didn’t know the full story, this was strong stuff indeed.
‘She wanted to come over and drop off some of my things she’d discovered while having a clear-out. I said I’d be out and when I explained why, she asked herself along.’
Ridiculous as it sounded, he didn’t want to be the only one to leave Joyce’s house without a date. Over the last few weeks he’d had to get used to the sound of whispers and giggles on the other side of the wall between him and Gemma Merryfield. It had had a strange effect on him that he couldn’t quite define.
Meanwhile, he needed to get on with the campaign and the book and all his other work. He didn’t want anyone to accuse him of not bothering just because he was leaving. Hell, he had even helped out with that mural which Nancy’s friends and mosaics teacher had taken over now Nancy was spending all her time in the hospital. There was so much to do! And that was the only way to shut out the constant thoughts of a rosy-cheeked boy (he had been so sure his baby would have been a son) who would have resembled him, or Ed, or both of them.
The disco was a great success. Even Ed said so, but then again, she would. All eyes were on his ex-wife as she arrived on his arm, wearing a slinky black dress.
As Joe watched her make small talk with the parents, including Clemmie’s mum whose face had fallen when they’d walked in, he began to wonder if this was the same person who had taken herself off for an abortion without even consulting him. She seemed so much softer now, so understanding. When he’d explained that Corrybank wasn’t for him and that he’d handed in his notice, he’d expected her to say, ‘I told you so’. But instead, she had merely nodded and said that he needed to make these decisions for himself and that wherever he ended up, whether it was in a school or back in business, his employer would be lucky to have him.
What had come over her? A huge lump rose in his throat as he watched her bend down and talk to some of the children. At one point, she had looked up at him and he knew, he just knew, that finally she felt remorse at what she had done.
‘Mr Balls, Mr Balls, is that your wife?’
‘Mr Balls, did you bring your children?’
‘Mr Balls, would you like to dance with me and my friends?’
Yes, everyone said the disco was a great success. But not for him. It was hurting too much. Mike had been right when he’d doubted Joe’s decision to bring Ed as his partner. He’d been wrong in hoping that he might be able to forget the past.
‘Hi, Joe.’ There was a tap on his shoulder and there stood Gemma, but not the Gemma he knew. This one was wearing a slinky black dress too, but because he usually saw the owner in work clothes, it took him a second to take in the make-up, the sheer tights and the shiny black high heels.
‘You look amazing,’ he said before he could stop himself.
‘Doesn’t she just!’ said Barry, who was beaming with pompous pride as he slid his arm around Gemma’s sparkly bare shoulders. For some reason that he couldn’t pin down, Joe still couldn’t warm to him, even though he was always pleasant to him when passing on the stairs in Joyce’s house.
‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ Gemma asked, glancing at Joe’s coat, which he’d been about to put on.
‘Just slipping out for some air.’
‘Why don’t you two have a dance?’ Barry gave Gemma’s shoulders a quick familiar squeeze. ‘I’ll get the drinks. Orange or lemonade?’
Joe put down his coat and smiled at Gemma. He could hardly refuse to dance with her. He glanced across the room to where Ed was dancing with a small boy who came up to her knees. She waved at him but then her eyes hardened as she spotted him taking to the floor with Gemma.
The music was changing now to a slow beat, leaving him no option but to put his hands awkwardly on her waist and shuffle round in a circle. Dancing had never been his thing.
Gemma seemed similarly embarrassed, and once or twice bumped her head against his chest, partly because he was so much taller than her. She smelt nice; not of the expensive heavy stuff that Ed favoured, but something soft without being too sweet.
‘Sorry,’ he grimaced when he trod on her toes yet again. ‘I’m not great at this. Ed always says that …’
A clear, cool, amused voice cut in. ‘Ed always says that I have many strengths but dancing isn’t one of them.’
They both looked round to see Ed standing there. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me then, darling?’
What right had she to call him darling? Surely she wasn’t jealous? ‘Gemma, this is Ed. My ex-wife.’
He emphasised the ‘ex’, so there should be no mistake.
‘Ed, this is Gemma, the pre-school leader who also happens to rent a room next to mine.’
Ed’s beautifully waxed eyebrows rose in surprise.
‘I didn’t realise you two lived so close. You’re practically bedfellows!’
How could she? Poor Gemma was virtually puce with embarrassment. ‘Excuse me.’ She had pulled a mobile phone out of her tiny evening purse. ‘I’ve just seen a text message that I need to reply to.’
In the event, Joe and Ed stayed to the end, helping to clear up along with Danny’s two grandmothers, who had come to lend support, and had both been flirting mercilessly with Brian.
‘Looks like I haven’t lost the touch after all,’ he beamed, flicking some biscuit crumbs off his maroon jumper. ‘By the way, Gemma left me a message to pass on to you. She had to go early.’
I’ll bet she did, thought Joe. Back to bed with lover boy.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me to yours for a coffee?’ pouted Ed when he ordered a cab to take her back to London.
‘Sorry.’ He brushed her cheek. ‘I’ve got work to do.’
She waggled a finger in front of him, half-mocking. ‘I know. Balls Law. All work and no play makes Joe a rich boy. At least it used to.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s changed now. Like me. And like us. I’m sorry, Ed, but there’s no point pretending. And that includes pretending about us too.’
Her face crumpled, and he could have sworn he saw a tear threaten to mar that flawless make-up. ‘Then why did you ask me here?’
‘I didn’t. You asked yourself.’
‘But you didn’t say no.’
True. But as he’d said before to both Mike and Lynette and himself, it wasn’t that simple to forget an ex. Even irritating habits were comforting, simply because they were familiar.
He patted her shoulder, but the very touch made him want to take his hand away. ‘I’m sorry, Ed. Maybe for a minute, I thought we could turn the clock back. But every time I think about our baby, I feel sick. It’s over. Really over. We both need to move on and the sooner we accept that, the better.’