Chapter 4
MARCUS
‘Were they drunk?’ asks Ruby after Miranda’s got rid of Ellie and the cake woman.
‘Shhh,’ I mouth. Sam is only eleven, as is Ethan, Rob and Miranda’s older son, and their two youngest are only six.
They don’t need to hear about drunkenness.
Miranda’s cooked a birthday meal for Ruby, whose best friend Libby is Miranda and Rob’s oldest child, and our two families are eating together; it all works perfectly because Sam is best friends with Ethan.
‘The woman you stole the cake from is very pretty,’ Ruby continues. ‘Really beautiful. Like film-starry. Like the kind of beauty you can’t describe because it’s unique to her. Her face is like a perfect heart shape.’
‘That is exactly right,’ Miranda agrees, pointing a breadstick at Ruby for emphasis.
I exert huge self-control and do not point out that chances are the woman would be a lot easier to deal with if she were less beautiful and seemingly entitled.
My ex-wife, while not the same type physically, had that same level of beauty, and she’s spent her entire adult life behaving appallingly and getting away with it.
‘Weren’t you supposed to be apologising to her next time you saw her?’ asks Ruby.
Oh yes. Ohhhh. Ruby did actually force me to acknowledge that the woman wasn’t that entitled, in that I didn’t fully explain why I needed the cake and she was at the front of the queue. Dammit.
‘You know what,’ I say. ‘I’ll apologise next time I see her, if I do ever see her again.’
‘Maybe she can change her plans and still make it to my birthday party and you can apologise then,’ says Miranda helpfully. ‘I’ll text her tomorrow. She did say she might be able to make it.’
‘Great,’ I say, not pleased.
‘I hope she can come,’ says Ruby. ‘Since Sam and I will be here too you can apologise in front of us.’ Ruby and Sam are coming for a sleepover next Saturday while I join the party.
‘No need for that,’ I say.
‘Dad,’ wheedles Ruby. ‘For an extra birthday present for me?’
‘You’ve had a lot of presents already.’ I always struggle to say no to Ruby, but I’m holding firm on this one. I will apologise if I see the woman again, because it’s the right thing to do, but I will not do it with an audience.
‘Pinky promise that you will at least apologise the exact, very first second you see her?’ Ruby holds out her little finger, and I shake it, because when she tilts her head like that, her expression simultaneously womanly-wise and still-little-girl innocent, I cannot say no.
I’ll just have to hope that Frankie won’t be able to make it.
* * *
Ruby’s birthday evening is excellent. It works fantastically sharing it with friends; Ruby is in such a good mood that I manage not to annoy her at all (amazing), and of course with friends there she doesn’t have time to think about her mother and the lack of contact from her.
The second we leave Rob and Miranda’s, though, Ruby checks her phone, where she – to no-one’s surprise except hers – finds no message from Astrid, her mother.
‘Do you think maybe Mum doesn’t have a signal?’ She sounds so young and lost that I immediately feel a huge lump in my throat.
‘Maybe,’ I say cautiously. I can’t criticise Astrid to her, but also I don’t want to encourage false hope.
‘Dad, can we have hot chocolate and marshmallows when we get home?’ Sam cuts in, to my relief. ‘It is Ruby’s birthday.’
‘Yes please,’ says Ruby.
‘I’ll think about it,’ I say, and happily Sam takes that as an invitation to talk at great length about hot chocolate for the rest of the walk.
I do – of course – allow hot chocolate plus extra marshmallows before bed, and I’m hoping that the mother moment has passed.
And then, when I go into Ruby’s room to say goodnight and a final happy birthday, she says, her voice little-girl small, ‘Dad, do you think Mum forgets my birthdays, or doesn’t care?’
Oh, fuck.
I sit down on the end of her bed and say, ‘I’m so sorry.
I honestly don’t know.’ I pause, and then – seeing the tears glistening on Ruby’s eyelashes – continue, feeling utterly desperate and hoping that I’m not about to make things even worse, ‘I love you more than words can ever say. I’m sure your mother feels the same.
Maybe… maybe she just doesn’t place a lot of store on birthdays herself, and doesn’t realise that we do.
’ Yeah, I think the reality is that she forgot because Ruby and Sam have no place in her life.
‘That must be it.’ Ruby speaks very firmly, as though she’s trying to convince herself. ‘Probably birthdays aren’t a big thing in Germany.’
I nod and hug her very tightly, and think back to Astrid’s birthdays. She used to require everyone to make an enormous fuss of her.
‘Exactly.’ I stand up and kiss the top of Ruby’s head. ‘Time to go to sleep, birthday girl. You don’t want to be too tired to enjoy the rest of the weekend. Phone in the kitchen?’
Ruby looks at me for a few seconds and then slides it out from under her pillow and hands it to me.
‘Honestly,’ I say, but I’m smiling. I think it’s a win that she gave it to me when I asked.
* * *
We have a pretty good rest of birthday weekend and the week isn’t bad either, and the three of us are in good moods when we pitch up early the following Saturday evening at Rob and Miranda’s for Miranda’s party.
Ruby and Sam want to hang out with Libby and Ethan for as long as possible, so they got ready in far better time than they ever do for school.
‘Remember,’ says Ruby as we’re waiting on the doorstep, having rung the bell, ‘you’re apologising to the carrot cake lady.’
‘Haven’t forgotten,’ I tell her. Bloody kids. Funny how they remember some things so well, but not the things you want them to remember. Hopefully the woman won’t be here.
The door opens and we’re greeted by hugs and noisy exclamations from Rob, Miranda and the children; no third-party observer would guess that it’s only just over twenty-four hours since the kids last saw each other at the end of the school day yesterday.
We’re barely inside the kitchen when the bell goes again.
Miranda hurries to the door, and then we hear women’s voices.
‘I think you met Frankie last week.’ Miranda’s smirking as she re-enters the room, with Ellie… and Frankie. ‘Maybe a sober introduction now?’
‘Cheeky,’ says Ellie, laughing.
‘I think Dad and Frankie have already met.’ Ruby directs a (fake) angelic smile towards me, before giving me an enormous nudge.
‘We have,’ I say, accepting the inevitable: I’m going to have to make my apologies in front of the entire group. ‘I need to apologise.’
‘You what?’ asks Frankie.
‘You did get to the front of the queue before I did. The carrot cake was rightfully yours, and it was mainly my fault that it fell on the floor.’
‘Mainly?’ Frankie asks with a raised eyebrow.
‘Entirely,’ I clarify. ‘I mean…’ I consider referring to the folly of turning round fast in a small, cake-filled space while holding a large bag over your shoulder and then decide – due to Frankie’s still-raised brow and a frown from Ruby – that discretion is the better part of valour. ‘It was entirely my fault. All of it.’
‘You also didn’t explain that you needed the cake because it was my birthday,’ says Ruby helpfully.
‘I did not. I am also sorry for that.’
‘Cake apology accepted,’ says Frankie. ‘The antibiotics?’
‘What antibiotics?’ Ruby asks.
I open my mouth to explain – I really have nothing to apologise for in regard to the cat’s medicine – but Frankie beats me to it.
‘Your father did not believe I could correctly administer Ellie’s cat Maurice’s antibiotics, and was very patronising and rude, before becoming impatient and doing them himself just as I was about to do them,’ she tells Ruby.
‘Dad!’ Ruby puts her hands on her hips.
I’m torn between wanting justice and wanting to make my daughter happy.
I’d just been trying to ensure that Maurice was alright and that I’d get back home before Ruby got home from school.
I was not being patronising and rude. Well, not without good cause – very good cause – anyway.
I look at Frankie’s still-raised eyebrow (I’m surprised that isn’t giving her a headache) and smug I’ve-beaten-you little smile.
I really want justice. I want her to apologise to me.
But then I look at the expectant expression on Ruby’s face.
She does not want me to argue or explain why I was in the right and Frankie was in the wrong.
She wants me to apologise. Recently I’ve been getting things wrong with Ruby a lot.
Clearly she is more important than point-scoring with a woman who is essentially a complete stranger.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Very sorry?’ asks Frankie. The woman’s a demon.
‘Extremely sorry to the point of self-flagellation,’ I say.
‘Dad, are you being sarcastic?’ Ruby queries.
‘Not at all,’ I say. ‘Just… sorry.’
‘Well… thank you.’ Frankie’s gracious smile is one of the most annoying facial expressions I have ever had the misfortune to see.
‘Not at all.’ My teeth are gritted.
‘Great, then.’ Miranda claps her hands together.
‘We need to get drinks sorted. Rob, why don’t you get Libby and Ruby to help you.
The waiting staff aren’t arriving for another fifteen minutes.
’ Smiling, she addresses Ellie and Frankie: ‘Have you recovered from last weekend or are you on the water?’
‘We had very good reason for our slight overindulgence last Friday,’ Ellie says. ‘That’s why Frankie’s been lying low all week.’
‘Yes, I’m kind of getting back on my feet now and ready to talk, but I needed a bit of time just getting myself back together.’
‘Oh, no. What happened?’ Miranda draws them a little away from me.
I move over to chat to Rob, but not before I hear Frankie say, ‘I had the serious day from hell last Friday. Triple whammy.’
I should not care. I should not be interested. I don’t care and I’m not interested. But I still – to my great annoyance – find myself straining to hear Frankie’s lowered voice.
I wonder whether her triple whammy involved the cake, or whether she had actual serious problems last weekend. As Rob gets a beer out of his very well-stocked fridge for me, I can’t help glancing over again at the three women.
Yeah, no, whatever. Frankie might have serious problems, or she might just be someone who thinks a splatted cake contributes to the day from hell.
I don’t know and I really do not care. I don’t know her, and that’s a good thing.
If she does have actual problems, she has Ellie and Miranda to talk to.
I’m going to ignore her and enjoy this party.