34. Jack
Chapter 34
Jack
J ack rings the bell and waits for someone to answer. He can hear the sounds of the party from out in the street. Not a rocking the rafters sort of sound, but a happy sort of hubbub, a mixture of laughter and chat coming from an open window, with Abba singing away in the background, and the squealing of kids from somewhere out at the back. He won’t stay long, just long enough to show willing. Syd was a good mate once, and it will be nice to see Rosie again and to meet the elusive brother from Oz he’s heard so much about. But he wants to be home before Molly gets back, especially as he hasn’t even told her where he’s going. Why hasn’t he? It’s not as though there’s any need for secrecy. Even if Carly does just happen to be here, they will have met by chance, won’t they? Neither of them has planned it. They just happen to know the same people.
The door opens and Rosie is standing there, looking just the same as when he last set eyes on her, more than five years ago. A bit chubbier in the face maybe, but just as young and pretty as ever, and nothing to mark her out as the mother of two he now knows her to be. Syd’s a lucky man.
‘Jack! Wow, it’s so good to see you. Come on in.’ She beckons him over the step, but then changes her mind and throws her arms around him instead, enveloping him in a big hug before finally closing the door and taking him by the hand, leading him along the hall and into a room packed with people. ‘Syd said you were back, but it’s lovely to actually see you. And married now!’
‘Yep. And you two are parents already. Makes us all sound old, doesn’t it?’
‘Speak for yourself. Getting married and having babies is the best thing I ever did. Best thing anyone can ever do! Keeps you young. Or on your toes anyway. Your turn next?’
‘It is. Didn’t Syd tell you? First one due in March.’
‘No, he didn’t!’ She hugs him again. ‘You men are useless when it comes to gossip. I had no idea. Congratulations!’
Syd is standing half in and half out of the kitchen, as if hedging his bets as to which group of guests he should be paying attention to. The older family members and neighbours, sitting on armchairs with cups of tea and trying to have a conversation above the din, one of the women, who must surely be Syd’s mum, cooing over the two babies she is holding in the crooks of both suntanned arms, or the men propping up the draining board with cans in their hands, talking rubbish about football and the state of the world?
‘Jack, my man!’ He lurches forward to shake Jack’s hand, not letting go of it as he steers him into the kitchen. ‘Beer?’
Rosie smiles indulgently and steps away, clearly knowing when she’s been beaten. ‘See you later then, Jack. I’ll leave you with Syd. Food’s in here, when you’re ready. I’m going out into the garden for a while.’
Jack opens a can, nods a hello to his fellow drinkers and finds a space by the washing machine. Why do the men always hover in the kitchen at parties? It feels like some unwritten rule, steering clear of female conversation, avoiding being expected to dance. There’s a certain safety and solidarity in sticking to male company.
Syd’s brother, Daz, is dominating the conversation, his Australian accent and suntanned skin making him stand out from the crowd as he answers questions about crocodiles and spiders and whether he’s ever been to Ayers Rock. Jack smiles to himself, imagining what Molly might ask if she were here. The only things she would want to know were if he’d ever visited the Ramsay Street set from Neighbours or met Kylie Minogue. Perhaps he should ask, just so he had some anecdote to take home to her.
After a while he chucks his empty beer can into the bin, squeezes back through the kitchen, clapping Syd on the shoulder as he passes, and steps into the living room. His stomach is rumbling and Rosie had mentioned food.
The first thing he sees, in pride of place on the table, is the two-tier cake he’d last seen sitting on the worktop in his own kitchen this morning. What? How did that get here? He looks around in confusion. Surely this can’t be the party Molly had been going to? Taking the cake to? The one she’d made for the woman she met at the clinic? But, of course, it must be. Her client, her new friend must be Rosie. Syd’s Rosie. Did Molly ever say the party was for twins? She might have done. He can’t remember. Or perhaps he hadn’t listened properly in the first place. But it’s definitely Molly’s cake. And that must mean that, unless she’s already left, she’s here somewhere.
Should he stay? Slip away quietly? Or go looking for his wife, with a surprised ‘ What-are-you-doing-here ?’ look on his face? Not that he’ll have to try to look surprised. He really is. Thank God there’s no sign of Carly. That could be a bit awkward. No, very awkward.
He grabs a sausage roll and stands chewing it while he takes a look around and plans his strategy. One of the babies is starting to get grizzly and the woman who must be Syd and Daz’s mother is trying and failing to calm it down. Any minute now Rosie will hear and come back from the garden. He really can’t just go. What if she says something, mentions him to Molly? The mysterious missing Jack who had only just arrived and has vanished without saying goodbye? The one who used to lodge with Syd and is still working in IT? No, he has to front this out. He swallows the final mouthful and aims for the open back door.
Molly is sitting on a folding chair at the bottom of the garden, surrounded by women and children. There is a lot of noise and several of the babies are in mid-feed, the number of exposed boobs making him feel decidedly uneasy, but it looks from here as if Molly’s asleep. Her eyes are closed anyway. Maybe she prefers not to witness such a white wobbly mass of breastfeeding flesh at close hand either.
He picks his way down the path and arrives in front of her. ‘Mol?’ He says it quietly, in case she really is asleep, but her eyes fly open and she gives a little jump.
‘Jack? What are you doing here?’
He kneels down beside her. ‘I was going to say the same thing! My mate, Syd. You know, the one I used to work with when I was in London before, the one whose sofa I slept on… well, this is his party, his house… I said I might pop by for a bit, to see Rosie again and wet the babies’ heads, as you were out anyway.’ He’s babbling, and he knows it. ‘I had no idea this was where you were going too. We could have come together if we’d known.’
‘Oh! Rosie’s one of my new friends, from the baby clinic. She never told me her husband’s name. It never came up. I never made the connection…’
‘Me neither. But we’re both here now, so shall I get you a drink? Bring you out some food? Or do you want to go soon? You look done in.’
‘I can’t leave until they cut the cake, can I? So, yes, I’ll have a Coke or a lemonade or something. No ice though. It’s starting to get a bit chilly out here. Oh, and maybe a couple of tuna sandwiches. Thanks.’
‘Oh, who’s this then?’ One of the women, with a voice like a foghorn, looks at him curiously. ‘Is this the baby daddy?’ She laughs, and the lager she’s drinking bubbles back out of her nose in an ugly snort. Clearly drunk in charge of a child, or quite possibly more than one, although it’s hard to tell which baby belongs to who and, thankfully, this woman is not one of those baring her breasts.
‘Yes, this is my husband, Jack. Jack, this is Jo. And this is Miranda, and Fran…’
He nods and smiles, with no hope of remembering their names, although Fran looks kind of familiar. He mumbles a vague sort of communal greeting and disappears back towards the door and the food table.
Some of the men have emerged from the kitchen. Daz is at the centre of the conversation again, a samosa halfway to his mouth, but it doesn’t quite make it to its destination. And there she is. Carly. She is standing with her friend Suze from the office, right next to the plate of sandwiches he needs to reach, both of them looking as if they’re listening intently to Daz. Suze is definitely flirting with him in that obvious giggly way of hers, even though there’s another man right next to her, scowling, a hand wrapped possessively about her shoulders. It’s the one he saw her with in the pub garden that time when she’d warned him off. He hadn’t looked too happy that day either. Clearly the jealous type. At least if he kicks off, Jack thinks, the focus of everyone’s attention will stay away from him.
Carly’s back is partly turned and she hasn’t yet spotted him but he can’t avoid her. Normally, he wouldn’t want to, but today is different. He feels a bit like a sandwich himself, the sliver of limp cheese trapped between two slices of bread. The two women in his life are both here, just an open door keeping them apart. There is no way out. He just has to act naturally, and hope that Molly stays outside and Carly stays in. And then take Molly home, as soon as humanly possible.
‘Carly!’ He touches her on the arm.
She turns slowly. There is something in her expression that makes it obvious that seeing him here is no surprise.
‘Hello, Jack. I wondered if you might turn up.’ She forces a smile.
‘Well, I probably won’t stop long. I felt I should look in, you know. For Syd.’
‘Don’t leave early on my account.’
‘No, no, I wouldn’t.’ He lowers his voice. ‘Look, Carly, we’re okay now, aren’t we? Friends? We did say that we can’t avoid each other, what with work…’
‘Yes, but I didn’t realise that would mean having to meet your wife. Your pregnant wife.’ Her cheeks have gone red. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth of the room, or embarrassment. For a moment, he thinks she might be about to cry.
‘Oh. I’m sorry. Have you…?’
‘Outside. I didn’t know who she was at first. Too stupid to put two and two together.’
‘I’m sorry, Carly. Really.’
‘Yes, you said that already. But there we are, it’s done now, and she doesn’t know who I am, or anything about me, so no harm done.’
‘No, I suppose not. I will do my best to keep you apart though, assuming that’s what you want?’
‘Of course it’s what I bloody want. But when has that ever mattered to you, Jack? Now, I suggest you get whatever it is you’ve come for and go back out to be with your wife. I’ll see you at work as usual.’
‘Right. Of course.’ He reaches for a paper plate and piles it with whatever is nearest. Carly’s tone worries him. Her voice seems to have gone up an octave and she’s giving him that woman scorned look that could so easily lead to trouble. She wouldn’t, would she? Say something to Molly, something to bring it all out into the open? Whatever she’s said about them staying friends, he is not totally sure he can trust her. Not now she’s been confronted with the enemy. Is that the right word? Hopefully not. Her rival, at least.
‘Everything all right, Carly?’ Daz has stopped talking long enough to notice that the atmosphere has changed. He’s turned away from Suze and is looking at Carly now. Looking at her as if he fancies her, which he very likely does. Carly is a beautiful girl. She deserves to be fancied, loved… to be happy.
Jack turns away, balancing the plate of food in one hand as he pushes through the throng in search of Molly’s Coke.
‘Cutting the cake in five minutes!’ Rosie calls, to anyone who might be near enough to hear her, and Jack sees a couple of people reaching for their phones, ready to get the best position for a photo.
When Jack comes back through from the kitchen, Daz has guided Carly to a couple of chairs next to the wall and is topping up her glass from a bottle of champagne. Where did he get that from, the smooth sod? They don’t look his way at all as he steps outside and shivers in the chilly late-afternoon air. He’d better tell Molly about the cake cutting. It’s what she really wants to see and the only reason they’re still here. At least he knows where Carly is sitting now, so he can aim for the other side of the room. And then get them both out of here as quickly as possible, before there’s any chance of trouble.
‘This is egg. I asked for tuna!’ Molly says, eyeing the mound of randomly selected food with suspicion, and Jack finds himself saying he’s sorry again. It’s starting to become a habit.