Chapter 20
My bedroom was the boxroom in the two-up, two-down semi.
It brought back memories of my late teenage years, lying in what felt like a room with the walls closing in, trying to mend a broken heart from whatever crush I had at the time.
I had to work hard in my darkest moments to remind myself that my life hadn’t failed because I’d ended up in the same place.
It was different now. I had a job, good friends, and I had my friends from the allotment.
The allotment had been the biggest surprise of the move, finding a peace I’d never known in my London life.
I’d initially gone for Mum, to help with her patch, but I’d soon found myself suggesting we went more.
I never thought I’d be the type of person to get a buzz out of watching something go from seed to plate, but I loved it.
And I loved the people too. There was a real community feel and, at a time like now, it was exactly what I needed.
But having new friends from the allotment didn’t make me miss my old friends any less. I picked up my phone, refreshing the screen. Hoping to see that Amy was back, but there was nothing. I sent her a message, apologising again for what happened, and asking her to let me know she was OK.
I opened up Facebook and stared at Mags and Noah’s photos of the Maldives, again.
It felt weird not spending today with Noah, and it made me miss him in a way I hadn’t for years.
Over the last few years we’d drifted apart.
In some ways the whole group had. We all had new friends that suited where we’d found ourselves in life.
Amy and Paul with fellow parents, Mags and Noah with other power couples, and me with my allotment crew.
But I wondered sometimes if I made less of an effort with Mags and Noah, because of my regrets about the past.
Watching Noah in his life with Mags had made me realise how different we were and I no longer felt that he was the one that got away.
But the same couldn’t be said for Mags’ glasses business.
That had gone from strength to strength, and whenever I saw her and heard about it, tiny pangs of jealousy and regret crept in.
I’d been almost grateful when they were going away and didn’t want to do a group meet-up, to save me from those feelings.
But I hadn’t expected to miss him so much.
Sightseeing with Mum had been brilliant in so many ways, but it made me pine for the friendship we had once upon a time.
I clicked to send a message:
Lucy to Noah
Hey you! Technically I don’t think it’s our birthday anymore where you are, but I still wanted to say Happy 8th Birthday!
I hope you had a good one. And that you kept up the tradition of going to see something weird and wonderful.
I get the impression that whatever you saw in the Maldives was more exciting than the living history museum I went to today. Anyway, hope you’re OK x
I put my phone down, not expecting a reply, but it started to ring. Hoping it was Amy, I turned it over to see Noah’s name on the caller ID.
I hesitated before I picked it up, not being able to remember the last time we’d spoken on the phone and wondering if he’d dialled accidentally.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Luce, can you hear me?’
‘Yeah, I can. What time is it over there? I didn’t expect you to be up.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, with a groan. ‘I’m all over the place with jetlag and I keep finding myself up in the middle of the night.’ He paused. ‘But you know, it’s a lovely time to take a moonlit stroll on a beach.’
‘On your own?’
‘There’s a couple of night security that I wave at every so often.’
‘Oh to be a man in the twenty-first century,’ I muttered under my breath not imagining what it must be like to wake up in the middle of the night and feel safe enough to wander outside alone.
‘How about you?’ he said.
‘Why am I up at nine o’clock at night?’
‘No, what are you up to?’
‘I’m currently lying in my teenage bedroom.’
Whilst the walls had been white-washed after I’d gone, the Artex ceiling was still there. The speckled pattern of tiny drops of plaster that I’d spent my teenage years thinking were about to drop onto my head at any second.
‘Nice.’
‘Yep,’ I said with a laugh. ‘We can’t all be in paradise, unfortunately.’
Noah laughed. ‘Well, paradise isn’t always paradise.’
‘Looks pretty much like it to me in your photos.’
‘Ah, the joys of Facebook when you’re on holiday.’
‘Is it even a holiday if you don’t post photos?’
‘Now you sound like Mags.’ He sighed.
‘So, come on then, what did you do for your birthday? You’re going to have to work hard to convince me that it’s not as blissful as it seems.’
‘The same as we’ve been doing all week. We lazed around, ate breakfast on the deck of our bungalow. Did a little snorkelling in the sea. Ate seafood at the restaurant at the beach.’
‘Sounds awful and quite hellish; nothing like the dictionary definition of paradise at all.’
He laughed.
‘Yeah. But there was no living history museum. What even is that? In my mind that’s almost scarier than the Dead Zoo. Kind of a zombie museum.’
If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the dimple on his cheek that would be making an appearance.
‘It’s where they have people dressed up in costumes and they have houses and shops kitted out from different eras, full of objects from the past. No zombies in sight.’
‘Nice, although zombies would have taken it to the next level. I take it there was no childhood trauma associated with this one.’
I thought of the afternoon. I kept seeing the smile on my mum’s face and I felt the squeeze on my heart.
‘Nope, none. I learned a lot. I took my mum and we had a really nice afternoon. There were a few moments where it felt like she was fine and she was talking about memories, and I mean memories from years ago, stuff that I’d never heard about her childhood, about her meeting Dad.’
‘That’s why you sound so sad.’
It stopped me in my tracks.
‘How could you tell?’
‘I can hear it in your voice.’
I bit my lip. I missed Noah. I missed how someone could know you so well that even with all these miles between us, between the silly banter and the jokes he could hear that something was off.
‘Believe it or not, that wasn’t the saddest part of the day.’
There was a pause and faintly in the distance I could hear the rhythmic crash of the waves on the beach.
‘What was?’
I didn’t want to tell him. I was embarrassed about what he’d think of Mum.
‘Lucy?’
I sighed. I’m sure Paul would tell him anyway.
‘Amy came over tonight and she was barely here before Mum picked up Oscar, thinking he was her baby.’
‘Oh.’ He smacked his lips together.
‘Yeah, it was all fine. She just held him and I quickly got him off her. But it rattled Amy, which it would, of course; she’s a mother.
’ I could still feel the fear that had taken hold of me.
‘But it also rattled me. I keep thinking what if something had happened, would Amy have ever forgiven me? And she hasn’t texted to say she got home OK and now I’m worried because she was in a state when she got in the car. ’
My mind still felt like it was in a heightened state of fear and I couldn’t do anything but imagine worst-case scenarios.
‘Breathe. Amy will be fine. She’s probably got home and been sucked into looking after the kids. If Paul was doing bedtime, Patrick was probably still up and running riot. And she’ll understand; of course she will. It was just a shock.’
‘Still, I—’
‘And as for running things that could have happened through your mind, they didn’t happen, did they? Thinking about the what if’s isn’t going to help.’
‘But—’
‘But nothing. It sounds like you’ve got enough on your plate without thinking about what might have happened.’
I knew he was right, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.
‘I didn’t realise things were so bad, with your mum.’
There was a concern in his voice. Whenever anyone started to sound caring about me, it made me want to cry.
‘I knew you’d moved in with her but I thought it was just to keep her company. I had no idea that it was at this stage.’
This was why I didn’t want to tell him what had happened. Now he’s judging Mum.
‘It’s not always this bad.’
‘But it is sometimes though. Are you getting enough help?’
I scrunched my eyes tight.
‘We have a person that comes in a few times a week; she sits with Mum whilst I go to work.’
‘That’s not what I asked. I asked if you were getting help? Is your dad supporting you?’
I blinked back a tear.
‘He tries. But it’s tricky as Mum gets agitated if she sees him, and he’s busy with Tania and Gilly. But I’m fine, really. I’m coping.’
‘It sounds like you need some more support.’
There was a stabbing pain in my chest and for a second I couldn’t breathe. It was the thought that I didn’t want to admit to myself.
‘We’re managing.’ I could hear the hardness in my voice, and I didn’t mean to sound snappy, it was more that I was trying not to cry.
‘Look,’ said Noah, breathing out, ‘I know I’m not the best person to dish out advice at the moment, I feel like we haven’t …
’ There was a pause. Neither of us had really acknowledged that things had changed between us.
‘I know I haven’t been there like I could have been.
And I know you’ve always been the wise one in this friendship.
But, if I was going to say something, I’d say that you don’t have to do this all by yourself.
You’ve always looked after everyone, and that’s one of your absolute best qualities. It’s why you make such a great friend.’
I closed my eyes; it was getting harder and harder not to cry.
‘But,’ I said, sensing the pause.
‘But,’ he said, elongating the word, ‘sometimes you’ve got to admit that something isn’t working and that things have to change.’
‘But it works. I mean, Mum’s getting more confused, but we’ve got a routine and—’
‘Lucy, no one will think anything less of you if you get more help. When was the last time you went out?’