Chapter 44
It’s hard to concentrate on the living room panelling for the rest of the afternoon. Each time I go to measure something, I start reliving what’s happened earlier and wondering if I’ll be having pornographic flashbacks every time I walk up the stairs from this point onwards. Given that I’d always said this was our ‘forever home’ and vowed never to move again, this could get a bit strange if I’m still here at an age when I’ll need a stairlift.
The problem is, it’s not just the sex I’m thinking about. Already, my mind is skipping forward to an impossible place. To a future. A type of togetherness that is simply not available to Zach and me.
I manage to get one wall completed by the time Jacob returns from the theatre with my mum. They both loved the show, though my mother was such an emotional wreck by the end that, to use Jacob’s words, ‘it was like she had hosepipes coming out of her eyes.’
We have a quiet Saturday night, as Jacob and I snuggle on the sofa for a family movie while Leo spends the evening upstairs on his PlayStation. As I climb into bed later, a text pops up on my phone.
It’s no good. I still can’t get you out of my head. Yours, The Maths Tutor
I bite my lip and reply straight away.
You do realise I’m changing your name to that in my contacts book?
Seems fair. I am good at fractions, after all.
Among other things . . .
Do not get me all hot again, Darling. I can’t take it.
I’ll stop. Though . . . that was a very bad thing we did on the stairs today.
Darling . . .
I didn’t mean bad. I meant beautiful. With fucking songbirds.
The next text takes forever.
I was hoping to find a songbird emoji so I could send you a whole load of them. My phone is only offering the choice of a penguin, duck or chicken and none of those quite fit my current mood.
I laugh out loud and am considering a response when a series of dots undulate on the screen to show that he’s typing. I go to brush my teeth while I’m waiting for his message to appear. When I return, the words on the screen make something burn in my gut.
I’m going to wear my heart on my sleeve here. The idea of not seeing you again after I leave is killing me.
My heart begins to pump queasily at the thought that in ten days he’ll be gone. Then, I catch myself.
Don’t go there, Lisa. Not again. Do. Not. Go. There.
I type a response. Surely you’ll be able to find someone in LA willing to bust your balls as much as me.
Be as flippant as you want. I mean it.
I exhale and try to think of something obtuse to say. I suddenly have neither the words nor the inclination to be anything other than honest.
I know. And I feel the same.
You are amazing, Darling.
Oh shush.
Are you cringing again?
Half cringing, half soaking it up ??
We text for a long time afterwards, until I’m so tired that by the time we’ve exchanged goodnights and sweet dreams, I haven’t even got the energy to update any of my apps. So I click off the phone and stare at the ceiling.
I cannot get this attached to Zach. I can’t let what happened on my stairs today make me fall in love with him. I need to act like a grown woman and stop whatever is happening here before it gets out of hand.
I plug the phone in next to my bed. I turn off the light.
Despite everything, somehow I’m still smiling.
The following day, Jeff, Rose and I sit on the terrace of the tennis clubhouse, watching Nora attempt to teach her orange ball kids – who are mainly aged 10 and 11 – how to perform a backhand. The group seems louder than ever today and even Nora, who has a peculiar knack for holding children’s attention, is facing an uphill struggle to get them all to listen. So she employs a tried-and-tested method to get them all in a circle for the ‘Question of the Week’.
‘If you were allowed to have anything for breakfast – anything at all – what would it be?’
The answers range from blueberry pancakes and pains aux chocolat to Haribos, a Big Mac and someone’s grandma’s lasagne. Absolutely nobody mentions Bran Flakes.
‘What does this have to do with tennis?’ Jeff asks.
‘Nothing, it just stops them bouncing around and trying to kill each other for about three minutes,’ I say.
Rose turns to him. ‘So what would you have for breakfast if you could have anything you wanted, Jeff?’
He thinks for a moment. ‘Am I allowed to say Luke Evans?’’
Rose chuckles, but it turns into a cough. She got a cold a few weeks ago that went onto her chest and she just can’t seem to shake it. She was always one of those people who rarely took a day off work with sickness, but this – presumably when combined with her treatment – seems to have taken it out of her. She looks so pale. I know I’m not the only one worried about her. Jeff texted me last night about exactly this after he’d seen her in the deli in Roebury.
‘Okay guys! On your feet and let’s get a little backhand competition going!’ says Nora.
The kids line up as she starts feeding balls to them one by one. There are some interesting techniques, a few of which actually result in them hitting the ball.
‘She must have the patience of a saint,’ sighs Jeff. He’s in his summer attire today – Italian leather boat shoes, linen shirt, gold-rimmed aviators and a pair of khaki shorts that show just an inch more leg than everyone else.
‘She’s certainly got more energy than anyone else our age that I know,’ I say.
‘That wouldn’t take much compared with me at the moment,’ Rose says, breaking into another cough.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t have come to meet us this morning,’ I say. ‘It might have done you more good staying in bed.’
‘And miss out on this high-quality sport?’ she smiles, as Jacob performs such a forceful serve that his racket flies out of his hand. ‘Truth is, I wanted the fresh air and the company. The doctor said if my antibiotics haven’t killed it by next week, they’ll send me for a scan.’
There’s a moment of silence as we all take in this prospect – and what exactly they’ll be looking for.
Jeff slaps his hands on his knees and stands up. ‘Well, I’m going to grab us some coffees. Is everyone having their usual?’
As he disappears inside, Rose turns to me. ‘Come on, spill the beans.’
‘What about?’
She employs a ‘don’t give me that’ look. ‘Something’s happened between you and Zach.’
‘I see your powers of telepathy are as sharp as ever.’
‘No telepathy required, Lisa. You’re really not that subtle.’
‘I haven’t even mentioned him!’
‘It’s not what you’ve said . It’s the fact that one minute you’re smiling to yourself, then you’re looking really wistful and melancholic and looking into the distance. Like you’re on the cover of a late-1990s U2 album.’
‘My HRT probably needs adjusting.’
‘Hmm.’
I look at my hands and start playing with my rings. ‘You’re going to think I’m an idiot. But I am starting to think I have real feelings for him.’
‘Ah,’ she says. ‘So you had sex with him.’
‘No, actually .’
She narrows her eyes.
‘Not . . . properly, at least.’
‘Oh. Is this like a Bill Clinton-type thing?’ she says. ‘ I did not have sexual relations with that man . . .’
‘Something like that,’ I concede. ‘I’ll spare you the detail.’
‘You really like him that much then?’
I bite the side of my mouth. ‘I think I do. Oh . . . it’s probably for the best that he’s going back to America.’
Jeff reappears from the clubhouse and puts two coffees on the table, before producing a cupcake for Rose. It’s a lovely, irresistible-looking thing, all light sponge and creamy raspberry and vanilla swirls.
‘What’s this?’ she asks.
‘It’s for you, sweetheart. To keep your strength up. They were all out of cod liver oil.’
‘Dad!’ We all look up as Bella calls out to Jeff through the court netting. ‘My bottle hasn’t got any water in it.’
‘Oh, damn, I must have forgotten to fill it up. All right, I’m coming!’ Jeff says, leaping up to head down the clubhouse steps.
Rose looks down at the cupcake, then up at me. She smiles. ‘I feel so lucky to have friends like you lot.’
She picks it up and takes the tiniest bite. Then she swallows, so hard you’d think she was eating sand.