Chapter 8
I’d never been to Claridge’s before and it was even more opulent than I imagined.
I tugged at the jumper I had on under my coat, hoping that it would be smart enough.
I’d paired it with skinny jeans and boots, but looking around the restaurant I felt that a skirt or dress might have been better, or to be dripping in pearls like many of the other diners.
I sighed relief on spotting my mum in a lilac blouse.
She waved at me and I raised my hand back.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ asked the ma?tre d’ as I approached the seated area.
‘I’m meeting my mother. She’s just there.’
‘Of course,’ he said, with a bob of his head. ‘Do you need to put a coat in the cloakroom before you take your seat?’
‘I don’t think so.’ My long wool coat right now was the smartest bit about me, and I was reluctant to take it off.
‘Very good.’
I felt ridiculous being led across the restaurant floor to my mum but I guess it was that kind of place and I couldn’t help but giggle.
‘Thank you,’ I said as he pulled out my seat for me. I’d barely sat on it when he pushed it in again. I leaned over and gave my mum a hug. ‘This is fancy.’
‘I know. Trust Marion to get me something like this for Christmas. But knowing her, she probably thought I’d bring her along.’
I almost wish that Mum had taken Aunt Marion with her.
Not that I didn’t like afternoon tea – who didn’t like eating their body weight in tiny sandwiches and cakes?
– but I never felt comfortable in places like this.
I always worried that everyone would know that I was using the wrong fork or judge me for putting the jam on my scone before the cream, or some other kind of faux pas.
‘Now I feel bad; you should have brought her.’
‘And hear more about her oriental pond? If I learn any more about it I’ll be able to go on a quiz show with it as my specialist subject. No, I’d much rather be here with you.’ She leaned across the table. ‘So, how does it feel to be twenty-four?’
‘Don’t remind me. I’m in my mid-twenties.’
I picked up the menu, wanting a distraction, but my mind swam with all the choices of teas.
‘What I wouldn’t give to be that age again.’ Mum sighed. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Just you wait till you get to my age; I’m going to be fifty-two this year.’ She pulled a face then hid it behind a menu. ‘Believe me, it’s no fun getting old.’
She put the menu back down on the table and I looked up at her face. She didn’t look like she was in her early fifties; all I could say was that I hoped that I looked that good in thirty years’ time.
‘Have you worked out where you’re going tonight or is it a kind of see where the night takes you?’
‘See where the night takes us with Amy coming? She’s planned it all. What bar we’re meeting at, guest list tickets for the club.’
‘What a useful friend.’
‘I know. If it had been left up to me we’d have ended up at the pub down the road.’
The waiter came over to take our tea order, and complimented me on my choice, even though I just pointed to a random one in the middle of the menu.
‘And Noah’s still on schedule to make it back in time?’
‘Actually, he arrived this morning. Woke me about half past five, hence the huge amount of eye make-up I’ve got on.’
Mum squinted like she was trying to spot it before she registered what I’d said.
‘He’s back? That’s great news. I was worried when you said he had all those connecting flights. Imagine if he’d had to spend his big birthday alone in some airport terminal.’
Mum really did have a knack of worrying about worst-case scenarios.
‘Well, luckily he didn’t.’
I sat back as the waiter put our teapots in front of us.
‘I’ll be with you shortly with your sandwiches.’
I turned back to Mum, who was leaning forward with both elbows on the table and her hands under her chin, like she was waiting for something.
‘So … how was Noah?’
‘Oh, you know him. Same as ever.’
I thought of us on the pedalos today and how that wasn’t remotely true. I felt a blush creeping over my cheeks.
‘He’s had some trip, from the sounds of it.
Imagine getting to live in Sydney.’ There was a wistful hint to her voice.
Mum had gone backpacking around Europe when she was in her late teens and I got the impression that if her life had been different she would have been off to much more far-flung destinations.
‘He said he had a great time, but he’s been pining for old buildings and history.’
‘He has?’
‘Yeah,’ I said, smiling at the thought of hiding in Trafalgar Square for his Where’s Wally photo.
‘Imagine that. But still, good on him for going.’
‘You know, you and I keep talking about that New York trip; we should stop putting it off.’ We’ve been talking for a few years about going Christmas shopping, and hearing about Noah’s travels has made me think we should do more than just talk about it.
‘Hmm, yeah.’ She sat back, and started to pour her tea.
‘We could go this December, get an early booking offer?’
She kept on pouring, and I wondered if she was going to leave herself any room for milk.
‘There’s no rush, is there?’ She finally stopped pouring, and put the teapot down. ‘What?’
She looked up and smiled at me and I realised I’d been staring.
‘Nothing,’ I said, a quick shake of the head. ‘Is everything OK, you know, money wise?’
My mum’s spoon chinked on the sugar bowl and she put it down, giving me a firm stare.
‘You’re like a sniffer dog at the airport. Things are fine, thank you. It’s just I had a big bill for the boiler again and—’
‘Mum, not again. I keep telling you, let me help you get a new boiler; there’s only so many times they can fix it.’
‘I’m not having you pay for it,’ she said, a little loudly until she realised her surroundings. Self-consciously she looked around at the other diners but no one was looking.
‘But, Mum’ – I leaned forward and lowered my voice – ‘I’ve got the money. It’s not like I’m doing anything with my savings; I’m never going to be able to afford to buy a flat.’
‘You should be spending it on something exciting for you. Something you want to do.’
‘Like going to New York?’ I lifted an eyebrow. ‘I could buy us the tickets.’
I hoped that a holiday would be less offensive in her eyes than a new boiler.
Mum laughed. ‘You are as stubborn as your father. Look, we will go to New York, and I’ll pay my own way, OK. But it might not be this year.’
I fixed her with a hard stare, but I knew there was no point arguing.
‘You know that there’s help if you need it.’
She nodded her head, not saying anything. Mum was determined, after Dad left, that she was going to do everything on her own. I don’t think she would have taken the maintenance money from Dad if she didn’t have to.
‘I know, and I appreciate it. But spend some money, Luce. I know you’re saving, but make sure you have fun whilst you’re young. Before you know it you’ll be pushing mid-fifties.’
‘Again, stop thinking you’re old. You have a better social life and a better dating one than I do.’
‘Oh, please.’
‘Speaking of which,’ I said, lifting the lid on my teapot and checking the colour of the tea, ‘are you still seeing that gardener?’
‘Jimmy?’ She wrinkled up her nose. ‘No, I ended things.’
‘Oh no, I thought you liked him?’
‘I did.’ She picked up her tea and cradled it towards her. ‘He had the most amazing hands. You know, proper worker’s hands, all callusy and rough.’
Now it was my turn to make a face.
‘Sounds lovely.’
‘You didn’t see that version of Lady Chatterley’s Lover on the telly; I think you would have been too young. We’ll have to watch it. Once you see Sean Bean in that, then you’ll get it.’
‘So I take it Jimmy wasn’t a patch on Sean?’
‘He was alright to look at, face as well as the big hands,’ she said, with a cackle that made me cringe.
‘But it was more that I found myself zoning out when we were talking. We had nothing in common, and then once, when he was kissing me, I found myself planning my shopping list and I figured that something was off.’
‘No chemistry.’
She turned her nose up. ‘More’s the pity.
You know, I think, to be honest, I could take or leave all the sexy stuff, but what I really want is the companionship.
You know? I miss having that banter and that friendship.
’ The waiter went past with a tray of cakes and both of us followed with our eyes.
‘I want what you have with Noah. What is it you always call him, your agony aunt?’
‘Hmm.’ I didn’t want to tell her about the tiny butterflies that had started to creep into my belly.
‘I just want to find that. You know, it all gets so complicated when sex and feelings get involved. I just want a mate. A male one. You don’t know how lucky you are.’
Mum’s eyes widened like saucers when a three-tiered stand of sandwiches, scones and cakes arrived.
‘Do you think they’ll let us take a doggy bag home?’ she whispered as the waiter left.
‘I reckon we could polish it off now.’ I couldn’t quite believe I could possibly be hungry after the big breakfast I ate.
‘I guess you do need to make sure that you eat enough so that you can drink more tonight.’
‘And I worked up an appetite this morning. Noah and I went on the pedalos on the Serpentine.’
‘In this weather? Are you two mad? That sounds fun.’
I giggled. ‘Yeah, it was.’
‘See, I need a Noah in my life.’
‘Everyone needs a Noah in their life.’ There was a pang in my heart as I said it. He was back, and back for good this time and I was going to make the most of it.