33
Staying with her mother wasn’t wholly idyllic. It wasn’t like Polly’s mother had undergone a personality transplant or something overnight. That kind of fantastical transformation only ever happened in movies, where the shrewish, errant mother turns into an angelic Susan Sarandon-type mommy. Still, Suze didn’t prod and pry over what had happened between Polly and Spike, and she was grateful for that. Instead, over the course of the next few days, it was Polly who was transformed as she began to forgive her wayward mother, as they talked, and shared more of their early stories. Polly glimpsed how a young and inexperienced Suze – all alone, apart from Jeff, and with no parents to speak of – might have felt unable to give her young daughter, Polly, the stability which Jeff, with his steady job and then his reliable (if dull) wife, Gillian, could provide.
‘God, d’you remember those awful macramé wall hangings Gillian used to make?’
‘Yeah. What was that all about?’
‘You were lucky you didn’t have years of knitted gifts and handmade dangly jewellery.’
‘Oh dear, we shouldn’t laugh. Poor Gillian.’
No, Suze hadn’t undergone a total makeover. She still seemed determined to interfere in Polly’s life and lecture her on her mothering skills – but Polly didn’t mind so much.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that, darling,’ etc.
Yes, they were on far better terms than before, and instead of Polly flouncing off or suffering in silence, she was able to say (with a degree of good-naturedness), ‘Thanks, but that’s the way I do it, okay?’
‘Fair enough.’
Wonders would never cease. There were even times when she silenced her mother with a back-off look, and no accompanying stand-up row ensued!
Brian gave to wandering about grinning from ear to ear, so happy to see ‘his girls’ getting along. Plus, he was thoroughly relishing the role of step-grandfather, as he took Rowan off in his old black Mercedes car, on trips to the seaside, or to the local wildlife park, or for a walk in the woods. ‘We was looking for fairies,’ he’d said, big grin on his face. ‘No. Not that sort,’ he added, before either Suze or Polly could crack a joke. Or else he’d take Rowan to the riverside to practise skimming stones. Rowan – who’d taken to calling a delighted Brian “Ban’dad Byan” – would return from their trips happy, muddy, and with a smile that matched Brian’s, while he took every opportunity to hoist her up onto his shoulders and carry her about, like St Christopher toting the Christ child safely across the water.
All of which allowed time for Polly and Suzy to chill out, relax in the garden or cook cakes (Suze). Polly would read or pen lines of poetry while Rowan and Suze took their respective afternoon naps. If it wasn’t for the turmoil and uncertainty of what was going on with Spike, she’d have felt even more refreshed and healed than she did. Still, bridges were being mended with Suze, and Polly was appreciating and – yes – enjoying her time spent in both Suze and Brian’s company.
One night the adults sat down to a simple hearty lamb tagine cooked by Brian. He’d had to order Suze out of the kitchen as he would broach no interference from her.
‘Suze! Stop sniffin’ around, will ya! Get outa here!’ he’d said, shooing her into the sitting room.
‘Don’t forget the coriander!’ she said, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips.
‘Oi!’ He turned her round and playfully slapped her bottom. ‘You let me worry about that. You girls just wait in there. Lookin pretty.’ Brian gave Suze a full kiss on the lips while she made a grand show of pushing him away.
Watching from her vantage point of an armchair, Polly enjoyed their interplay and couldn’t help but feel an ache for Spike. Oh bugger . She warmed her toes in front of the stone fireplace, where a couple of logs smouldered away in a wrought iron basket, as Suze took her place in the chair opposite her.
‘Now,’ began Suze, ‘I know I promised not to bring up Spike—’
‘Oh, Mum…’
‘But listen, darling. You’ve been moping about this place for days now. You need to do something. From the moment I saw you two in the hospital together… well, any fool with eyes in their head can see that you are obviously in love with each other – and Brian agrees with me. What I can’t understand is what on earth the problem is, then. He must prefer you to that Bam creature – I mean, what a stupid name! And so why did he go rushing off like that?’
It was no use. Suze had that determined set to her jaw. She’d wheedle it out of Polly one way or the other, so she might as well tell her. Part of her wanted Suze to know, in any case. If she was wholly honest with herself, it was probably a major reason for staying on.
‘Very well,’ she said, her tummy responding in a gurgling way to the glorious smells emanating from the kitchen. ‘I just hope that Brian’s not ready to set the table just yet. This could take a while…’
As the sun set low over the estuary and the shadows outside the window edged across the lawn, Polly began at the beginning: from when Spike returned to Bristol with Bam, right up to Bam’s bombshell and Spike’s departure “oop north” to Kettering.
At one stage, Brian entered quietly, turned on the table lamp, added another log to the fire and tiptoed out again. The lamplight spilled its orange and cosy glow onto Labrador Blue, who sat outside, watching a goose fly overhead as it honked and swooped across the estuary. Further downriver, a pub nestled in an inlet where weekenders from Bristol, Exeter and further afield kept their boats. They’d be sitting outside in their fleeces and anoraks, tired and content from the combination of a day spent messing about on the water and the intoxication of fresh sea air and nutty real ale; sitting at those weathered wooden trestle tables as the gaily painted pub sign swung ever-so-slightly whenever a gust of wind blew upstream.
‘A baby, you say?’ Suze took an iron from the companion set and poked at the fire.
‘Yes.’
‘That changes everything, doesn’t it?’
Polly didn’t know quite what she’d hoped for. Magic words? A mother’s solution that would make everything all right? Instead her mother had confirmed what Polly already knew. She’d missed the boat and now fate had taken a hand and thrown a baby into the mix. What a mess.
‘Don’t you worry,’ said Brian, as he poked his head around the door. ‘I got faith in that boy. He’ll sort what’s the right thing to do. Things’ll work out for the best, you’ll see. Now cheer up, there’s a good girl. Dinner’s served, so come on, gals. To the kitchen.’
But Polly wasn’t cheered, because she knew that Spike would indeed know the right thing to do. And the right thing must be for him to stay with Bam and the new baby. No getting away from it. That was the only thing he could do.
In her rush to get down to Devon, Polly had forgotten her mobile phone charger and her battery had gone flat the first day. This meant she couldn’t telephone Spike even if she wanted to – which she assured herself she didn’t. She’d called Donna a few times from Suze’s landline, to check that all was okay at the shop. And – yes – she had rather been hoping that Spike might have tracked down Suze’s number by calling Donna or something – but no such luck. She gleaned from Donna that Mel had called. ‘Be a doll, babe, and call her mobile to let her know that I’m fine and will be back soon,’ Polly asked her.
‘No need to rush back, babes,’ assured Donna. ‘Me and Jade have it all well under control.’
Great , thought Polly. It’s only when you go away that you discover the world carries on perfectly well without you. What a depressing thought.
Crash! ‘My God, Donna. What was that noise in the background…?’
She could hear Donna calling out to someone, ‘You dozy mare!’ and then back on the phone line. ‘S’all right, Polls. Everything’s cool. Just chillax. Gotta run. Bye!’
Click.
Polly went online a couple of times to collect and send some work-related emails – and, yes, to check Facebook for anything new on Spike’s wall. But no. There was no status update like – Bam’s having a baby! – or any other breaking news.
‘Oi, turn that off!’ Brian barked, when he caught her – nearly making her jump out of her skin as he wagged his big sausage-like finger at her in pretend-telling-off mode.
‘Never mind all that going online, darling,’ her mother said, walking up behind them both. ‘You’ve had a nasty shock, and you need a rest. Come on. Off. Off.’
So yes. By and large, Polly was somewhat surprised (and perhaps even a little miffed) that the world and her friends could manage perfectly well without her.
In the end, Polly stayed for ten days. Most of her daytimes (thanks to Brian taking Rowan here, there and everywhere) were spent wandering around the grounds (which even possessed a small wood and a disused tin mine); writing poetry or drawing sketches (something she’d not done since a brief stint at evening art classes). The evenings were spent in a companionable way with Brian and Suze as they shared stories. Polly and Suze even laughing at the “radical” old days, when Suze would drag her along to protest rallies and peace camps.
‘Happy days,’ smiled Suze. And Polly – now things were more sorted between them – was able to look back fondly too.
‘Do you remember that woman? You know, the one with the turquoise dreadlocks?’
‘God, yes, River.’
‘She certainly was wet,’ said Polly, and they both giggled as they told Brian about wet River, and her propensity to fart loudly after a supper of lentil stew, making their communal tent a no-go area.
‘We had to bunk down in someone else’s teepee,’ her mother said.
Most nights, Rowan was allowed to stay up later than normal. ‘What harm can it do?’ Suze had said.
Brian had shot her a warning glance. ‘That’s up to Poll, Suze. Don’t go interfering.’
‘It’s fine,’ Polly had said. ‘Rowan loves being around you two.’
Then one day Suze announced, ‘That’s quite enough lazing about for me. My publisher won’t wait forever. Brian, give me my iPad. I have to get back to work.’
‘Now, Suze, babe…’ began Brian, who’d hidden Suze’s iPad for her own good. Polly could see any protests on Brian’s part were futile – and that sadly her interlude with Suze was coming to an end. She had hoped to eke it out for a full two weeks.
Suze said, ‘You’re more than welcome to stay another day or so, darling.’
But Polly felt the pull for home. Time to return to Bristol.
*
‘Now drive safely,’ Suze said, as she peered through the window of the red Megane Scenic she’d insisted Polly take. Polly’s own 2CV had refused to start, and both Suze and Brian had put up a united front, insisting that Polly have Suze’s car.
‘I’m bored with it in any case,’ Suze said. ‘Seriously, you’d be doing me a favour. I’m desperate to buy a new one. A nice sport BMW this time.’
‘I’d be happier too,’ said Brian. ‘Is not safe for you and the little ’un to be driving around in that old tin can. I dunno why your mother hasn’t given you a proper car before now.’
She had tried, but Polly loved her car. Still, she couldn’t deny motorway driving in it could be a nightmare. Her beloved Ruby (her car’s name – all 2CVs have to have a name, she’d informed Brian) didn’t like driving in the rain – she had such thin tyres – and on motorways Polly had to struggle with the wheel in order to avoid being sucked across the lanes by the slipstream of any overtaking lorry.
‘I give in,’ she eventually agreed. ‘Anything to shut you two up.’
‘You know it makes sense. And,’ said Brian, ‘I quite fancy ’avin’ a go at stripping dahn your little car an’ driving it across the fields an’ that. Be great for pickin’ up an’ deliverin’ stuff – less damaging to the grass than a Range Rover. After all, that’s what those little French cars were designed for.’
So it was settled. Her old car officially put out to grass, like some vehicular equivalent of Black Beauty, and Polly and Rowan set off for Bristol in relative (well, for Polly at least) luxury. Bowling along the M5, with Bristol drawing closer, Polly and Rowan singing along to Abba’s “Take a Chance on Me”, as she wondered if Spike would change his mind and take a chance on her.
Oh great , thought Polly. Life’s little irony not lost on her, as she thought of Spike and whether or not he’d changed his mind – and if so, in which (or whose) direction?