Chapter 5 #2
‘Hang on, just let me move out of the wind.’ I see the pavement rush by as Jill seeks refuge and I just can’t help think how much I owe her.
As a young girl, Jill saw my crippling shyness and vulnerability, and took me under her wing.
She became the best friend anyone could ever wish for.
Jill was my instant protector. She stood up for me, sheltered me from the looks the cool girls threw at my old-fashioned wardrobe and wild, untameable, red frizzy curls.
She was the one who used to read my short stories and tell me I should become a writer, encouraging me to submit them to writing competitions.
I would do anything for Jill and it has completely broken my heart that the one thing Jill is consumed with desire for, the one thing she covets, yearns for and craves, I simply cannot help her with.
A baby.
‘That’s better!’ Her smile is back. ‘Hit me.’ She sits down on a park bench.
‘There is only one promotion to feature writer and it’s between me and Salma.
I got offered it first. But Amanda is sending me to Ireland tomorrow all by myself.
I’m being commissioned to write a piece on a magnificent castle in County Galway to prove myself, and if it’s good enough she’s considering Castlemoon – that’s the name of this place – as a cover for the double June edition!
But I’m terrified, Jill. I said yes, obviously, but I couldn’t sleep a wink last night!
’ I barely take a breath as the words tumble out of me.
‘A possible cover? No way! Ireland! Amazing! Listen to me, you’re well able. This is your dream, just don’t overthink it. Step by step, okay?’ Jill tells me.
‘I know, you’re right. Mom said the same. Thank you, it’s all a bit surreal . . .’ I pause as I watch her pull a tissue from up her sleeve and dab her eyes, then blow her nose.
‘Surreal my ass, and you have nothing to prove, it’s so overdue! You are an incredible writer, you got this. I mean that, I have every faith in you—’
‘You okay, Jill?’ I interrupt her as I watch the screen like a hawk.
‘Me? Eh, yeah, yeah, fine. Sorry, just this bitter London cold, makes my eyes water, you know yourself.’ Jill plasters a smile on her pale face.
I let that hang for a moment. Has she been crying, I wonder?
‘I do know, Jill. I really do.’ Giving it a beat because I know Jill wants me to change the emotional moment we have just shared.
‘So, what have you packed? What is your actual brief? Spill! I want all the details!’ Jill commands and I do let it go, for now. For her sake.
‘Just warm clothes really. Oh, and Frederick, Amanda’s millionaire property mogul boyfriend – you met him once at a Christmas party at the Royalton – is in negotiations to buy the castle!’ I tell her.
‘Oh, Creepy McCreep. I thought he only dealt in hotel chains?’ Jill says with a downturn of her mouth.
‘Apparently not, he wants to buy Castlemoon but he is keeping it exactly as is, obviously, staff and all. He won’t be changing a single thing.’
‘Hmmm, I’d wonder about that.’ Jill looks genuinely puzzled. ‘The only thing that creep gives a crap about is money. Remember what he said when he heard I worked with vintage clothes? Rich people’s cast-offs for poor people!’ Jill rolls her eyes.
‘I do, and I remember the ear bashing you gave him in return!’ A smile tugs at my lips when I picture Frederick’s face as Jill told him a few home truths about recycling playing a crucial role in promoting sustainability, protecting the environment and supporting economic growth.
‘But Amanda said something about the owner stipulating that the staff must be kept on. I just have to keep an eye on how the place is being run—Oh, one more thing! I had to tell my lovely pal Ben that we couldn’t see each other anymore. Eliza fancies him.’
‘He was moving out of the friend zone?’ Jill scrunches up her nose. ‘You never mentioned a single spark?’
‘Exactly. Because there were none. I would have told you. Anyway, I want to hear more about London. How are you settling in? Seen any of the royal family out and about yet?’ I joke.
‘I’m pretty sure I saw King Charles at the dentist . . .’
‘. . . maybe in for a new crown.’ I jump in, spinning around on my chair.
‘Bahaha! Very good!’ Jill cracks up. ‘I miss you so much. But all’s good, sorry I never got back to you last week. I’m such a shit friend right now. I’ve been wallowing a lot.’ Jill gently smacks her free hand against her cheek twice as though to wake herself up.
‘Is Max still in Lisbon?’ I soften my tone.
‘Yes, he left three and a half weeks ago, but who’s counting?
I miss him so much too. What am I like? He’s still interviewing and hiring lawyers for the new practice and buying really cool office equipment while I’ve barely posted any content in two weeks.
’ Her blue eyes are watery and sad and her pale complexion worries me.
If only I could see Jill as happy as she was the day she married Max, four summers ago, again.
It had been the most perfect day. The sun had split the trees and the six-foot-long barn door was pulled wide open.
Horses galloped in the nearby paddock. I had rented long, rustic tables and low-backed benches, decorated with simple pink organza flowers and twinkling fairy lights.
The Brodsky Quartet had provided the music.
It was very Max and Jill – classy, understated and fun.
I’d give anything for my friend’s happiness now, I think with a knot of hope in my throat.
Jill’s hands suddenly fall to her stomach.
Fast tears start to sprout in watery pools in her eyes, despite her heroic attempts to hold them back.
Quicky, she swipes them away. Immediately, I pick up the phone from the cradle holder, hold it closer to my face.
‘The last round of IVF didn’t work?’ Pain pierces right through my heart.
Ever so slowly, Jill shakes her head. Her lip wobbles.
‘Oh, Jill.’ I exhale.
‘I know,’ Jill half whispers. She slaps a palm across her eyes, hiding them. But I see the tears slide through.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to pry. I wanted to give you and Max some privacy.
I hoped when things were very quiet for a couple of weeks, you were maybe, well you know .
. . I should have checked in just in case you were quiet for this reason.
’ I kick myself under the vanity table. I was just trying to give Jill space.
I’d been so hopeful this time that she was finally pregnant.
‘Don’t be a silly goose, I knew that, I just couldn’t talk without bawling. Max wants to be a dad so much. It’s all we’ve both ever wanted, as you well know. He deserves so much more.’ Jill pulls the sodden tissue out again, blows her nose, noisily, left and right.
‘Jill, please never say that again. Max adores you. He knows how lucky he is to have you. Max only cares about your happiness,’ I tell her quietly but truthfully.
‘You’re biased,’ Jill half laughs. ‘I think this tissue has seen better days, a bit like myself.’ She stuffs it into the pocket of her puffer jacket.
‘Don’t mind me, I’m just feeling sorry for myself.
I’ll be fine, you just caught me at a bad time.
’ Jill waves her hand across her face. ‘This is a good news day for you!’
‘I’m here, you know that? I’m always on the end of this phone. Day or night.’ I can’t keep the sympathy from my voice and I know she hates that.
‘That was the third round of IVF and the max we said we’d do, if you pardon the pun!
’ Jill dabs under her eyes with the tips of her fingers and presses them into her soft skin.
‘Max hates watching me go through this. He thinks it’s all too much for me, and he’s right, I know he is.
I’m losing my mind. This bloody hope, the praying, the lighting of candles and then the utter disappointments.
It’s all becoming unbearable. Every woman I see on the street or on the underground here is pregnant, I see them everywhere.
Strollers, car seats, day care centres, maternity shops, I give up.
’ Jill tucks her hair behind her ears, as a pigeon sweeps overhead squawking.
‘Now, you stop that right now, do you hear me?’ I say firmly but kindly.
‘You are only thirty-four years old. Your gynaecologist has been really positive. Maybe just give yourself and your body a break for a while? You need a distraction. It’s too much.
’ I try to inject a burst of enthusiasm and hope into my voice.
‘Oh, Max is calling in!’ Jill says, shaking her shoulders to gather herself, clears her throat of emotion.
‘Go!’ I command. ‘Give him all my love, won’t you?’
‘I will. Have the best time in Ireland. FaceTime me! Be brave, you are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for and you are an amazing writer.’ Jill, always encouraging me, always my biggest cheerleader.
‘Promise. Speak soon,’ I tell her.
We blow one another a kiss and then I put my phone into my bag and I bound down the stairs.
* * *
‘My dear, I’m going to miss you so much,’ Mrs Schwartz says as she lifts her round reading glasses from the end of her slightly bent nose. Benji rushes to me, barking happily, his short tail wagging wildly.
‘There he is, my sweet baby.’ I get down onto my knees to the black and white Shih Tzu.
Benji rolls over, four tiny paws in the air, pink tongue panting.
I scratch his belly. Pulling his fur back gently, I stroke his head lovingly and look into his deep-set black eyes.
He is the reason I’ve managed to live here so cheaply, part of my rent deal was that I walk him twice a day.