10. Carly
Chapter 10
Carly
I t’s one of those dull drizzly Saturdays when all I feel like doing is lazing around with a huge bar of Cadbury’s Fruit and Nut and a can or two, in front of the telly. Well, preferably Mum’s telly, so I don’t have to think about the washing or what to make for dinner, or Jack.
She has a habit of talking too much, my mum. It’s quite comforting, in its way, that feeling of not being on my own, of family life going on around me, and I’ve learned how to tune her out over the years, only really hearing the bits I want to hear, so it doesn’t bother me when she keeps coming into the room and chattering away about nothing in particular. I can always press the rewind button if I miss a good bit of the film I’m only half-watching anyway.
‘If I’d known you were planning on hanging around, I’d have bought extra meat,’ she’s saying now. ‘It’s okay when it’s a joint but you can’t really divide pork chops up, can you? It has to be one each.’
‘Mum, it’s okay. I don’t want a chop. You and Sam go ahead and eat them. I’ll grab something out of the freezer or the cupboard, if that’s okay? You must have some fish fingers or a can of beans. That’ll do me. Or I’ll get a takeaway delivered.’
‘Carly, you’re very welcome to stay, you know that, but I can’t have you eating baked beans, or chips out of a paper bag, while the rest of us have a proper meal. It will look…’
‘Look what? And who exactly is doing the looking?’ I sit up from my curled-up position on the sofa and drop my legs back down to the carpet. ‘Hang on, am I missing something here? What do you mean by the rest of us? Have you got someone coming over for dinner?’
‘I thought I told you.’
‘I don’t think you did.’
‘Well, it’s no big deal. I ran into Anthony during the week. You remember Anthony? From the allotments? He gave me a bag of plums, and they look delicious. I’ve made a pie. I thought it might be nice to ask him over to share it, that’s all. And for a bit of dinner too, of course. A man can’t live on plums alone.’
‘Oh, Mum. I told you to stop the matchmaking. He’s really not my type, and I have no interest in his plums!’
She doesn’t laugh at my joke. In fact, I’m not sure she realises I’ve made one. ‘I have no idea what you mean, Carly. I didn’t even know you’d be here for the evening, did I? I thought you’d drop by for lunch and a chat and be gone again, like you usually are on a Saturday. I would have got an extra chop otherwise…’
‘Right. Okay.’ I’m confused now. Maybe she really is just being kind to this Anthony, knowing he’s in need of company. Maybe she was never actually lining him up for me at all. ‘I’m sure Anthony won’t really care what I’m eating. You can tell him I’m not having the pork because I’m vegetarian or something! Or would you rather I go? Or I could pop out and buy another chop if it will help?’
She stops twisting the tea towel she’s holding and perches next to me on the sofa. ‘Whatever you want. I think you might be a bit bored though, if you stay. Once Anthony and Sam get together, the talk does tend to revolve around allotment business, you know. Pesticides and the Autumn Show and who’s going to tell old Mr Barton to get rid of his weeds before they infect everyone else’s plots. It can get a bit…’
‘Boring?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. If it’s not your thing.’
‘It’s not. So, I’ll go then, shall I? What time’s he coming?’
‘About seven. Oh, but I don’t want to push you out. It’s just that…’
‘It will be boring and you don’t have enough chops? I get it, Mum, honestly. I expect Fran will be home. We can get a takeaway together.’
‘No date tonight then? No nice young man to take you out somewhere?’
‘You know there isn’t.’
‘Shame,’ she says, under her breath, as she leaves me to curl back up on the sofa and heads back into the kitchen.
I look at my watch. It’s only just gone five, so I have time to finish the chocolate and the film, and crack open a second can of lager, before I’m bundled back out into the night. And I’d like to see Sam before I go. He’ll probably be back from his football match soon. It’s only a little local team. They play in a bumpy field tucked away behind the playground in the park, and Sam plays in goal, but he likes to tell me how they got on and talk me through the highlights. Mum doesn’t know the first thing about football and, since we lost Dad, I think Sam likes still having someone to brag to when he comes home, especially if he’s managed a particularly impressive save. Although, to listen to him, they’re all impressive.
The season’s only just begun, but I must try to get down there and watch a match soon. I have a sudden vision of being there with Jack, like a proper boyfriend and girlfriend, wearing matching scarfs, holding gloved hands on the touchline and only letting go when our team scores and we raise our arms and cheer like loons. It’s never going to happen though, is it?
As it happens, Sam’s late and Anthony’s early, and they arrive together. I hear the back door bang as they come clomping in to the kitchen, and Mum squealing as they’ve caught her unawares, still in her dirty apron and with her hair a mess.
She rushes up the stairs to sort herself out and Sam brings Anthony into the living room.
‘Did you win?’ I say, crinkling up my purple wrapper and stuffing it into my pocket and edging the empty lager cans round to the side of the sofa with my toe. Who wants to admit they’ve been drinking, and have eaten a whole giant-size bar of chocolate, all by themselves?
‘Three–nil,’ Sam says, with an air of triumph.
‘Well done. I wish I’d been there. You can tell me all about it tomorrow. I’ll call you, okay?’ I get up then and hold my hand out to Anthony. ‘Nice to see you again, Anthony, but I’ll be off now. Have a nice evening.’
‘Oh, you’re going?’ I hope I’m wrong but he looks really disappointed.
‘Yes, I’ve been here far too long already. Things to do, you know how it is.’
He nods, hesitantly. ‘I hope I’m not pushing you out, Carly. I’m sure Joyce wouldn’t want that. I know how much she likes having you around.’
‘Of course not. I raise my eyes to the ceiling, and wonder how long Mum is likely to be and if I should just slip away or wait to say goodbye.
Sam leaves the room, kicking off his shoes in the hall. I hear the water splashing into the kettle and the rattle of mugs. He’s obviously decided not to wait for Mum and to make them all some tea. I almost wish he hadn’t as that leaves me alone with Anthony.
‘Did you manage to get your car insurance sorted?’ I say, not being able to think of anything else to talk about. I’m still standing and so is Anthony.
‘Yes, thanks. Not your company, I’m afraid. Got a better deal somewhere else.’
I laugh. ‘There goes my Christmas bonus then!’
Anthony looks uncertain, as if he’s not sure if I’m being serious.
‘Joke! I think the company profits will survive. Please, Anthony, sit down. I can recommend the sofa. It’s very comfy, and I’ve been on it a while so it’s still warm!’
He smiles then and, I have to admit, he’s not so bad-looking really. Not in Jack’s league, obviously, but he’ll do for someone.
‘Anyway… I’ll say bye now. Enjoy your dinner, and your plums. Maybe Mum will save me a slice of the pie, if the plums are as good as she says they are.’
‘They are. Very plump and juicy,’ he says, and I manage to hold my laughter back just long enough to get me safely out into the hall and out of sight.
‘Bye, Mum,’ I call up the stairs, and I make my escape before she tries to talk me into staying and the chop situation rears its ugly head again.
The rain has managed to hold off, although the sky is heavy with dark clouds. It’s a bit of a walk to the station and then two trains to get back to the flat, and I’m starting to worry that I don’t have a coat. I’m hurrying along, head down, when I hear a voice calling my name. A car has slowed down beside me and I recognise the head that’s sticking out through the open window.
‘Syd! What are you doing around here?’
‘Just dropped Rosie and the little ones off at her mum’s. Some sort of baby-shower thing for her cousin. Do you want a lift?’
‘Are you sure? I can get the Tube.’
‘It’s fine. I’m going near your place anyway. Come on, hop in!’
I flick a few crumbs off the passenger seat and sit, dragging the seat belt across and clicking it into place. My foot hits something on the floor and I reach down to pick it up. A dummy, covered in dirt.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ he says, taking it from my hand and throwing it over his shoulder onto the back seat. ‘This is Rosie’s car, and we’ve given up trying to keep it clean and hoovered! There are dummies all over the place. She bought a job lot. It’s easier to chuck them away than bother with all that sterilising lark, when you can get them so cheap. Thank God for Poundland, eh? To be honest, if it’s just a bit of fluff I just give them a suck and swish them under the tap sometimes. Doesn’t seem to have done the kids any harm.’
Really? Doesn’t he worry about the germs? Still, what do I know about babies and how to look after them? And the twins always look in perfect health to me.
‘So, how are they?’
‘The kids? Fine. Noisy, messy, never bloody sleep, but wouldn’t be without them, you know? Rosie’s thinking of going back to work soon, but there’s a lot to sort out. Childcare-wise.’
‘There must be.’
‘I’ve got my own business now, see. Gave up on the IT stuff. Not sure it was ever really my thing. Well, Rosie’s probably told you. I give driving lessons now. Got a new posh car with dual controls and everything, so I can pick and choose my hours, which works out well. Evenings, weekends… I can be out when she’s in, and vice versa. Means we hardly see each other sometimes though, and we’re still going to need help to make it work on any sort of permanent basis. Nurseries cost the earth. There’s only so much free childcare you can expect from the in-laws. Financially, I’m not sure it’s worth it, Rosie going back. We could end up paying out more than she earns. But I think she misses it, you know. Mixing with people, feeling useful, getting back into the real world…’
Rosie’s a teacher. A good one, too. Secondary level, English. All the GCSE and A-level stuff she thrives on. I can imagine how much she must be missing the classroom, and the kids.
‘The new term starts soon.’
‘I know, but she doesn’t have to go back just yet. She’s spoken to the head teacher and they’re looking at after Christmas. There’s a locum, supply teacher or whatever they call her, holding the fort until then.’
The rain is hitting the windscreen now and Syd puts the wipers on. The rhythm of them, swishing backwards and forwards, almost sends me to sleep. Must be the lager.
‘So, how about you, Carly? How’s work?’
‘Okay.’ Should I tell him? About Jack? They were mates once, and he’ll want to know how he is, won’t he? They might even decide to meet up for a drink or something, once Syd finds out he’s back. Besides, I want to talk about Jack, to think about Jack, and here’s my chance. ‘There’s been a bit of a development actually.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He looks at me quizzically as we wait at traffic lights, the rain thundering down on the car like someone banging a hammer on a shed roof, the wipers struggling to cope with the deluge.
‘Do you remember Jack Doherty?’
‘Of course. Slept on my sofa for long enough to leave an imprint! What about him?’
‘He’s back in London. Working at Mandrake’s, by some weird coincidence. I ran into him last week.’
‘Oh, that’s great. I always liked old Jacky Boy. How is he?’
‘Fine, I think. He hasn’t changed much. Still doing well in his career, still smarter than the rest of us put together!’
‘I’ll have you know I’ve been known to scrub up pretty well in my best suit, when I can get the baby sick off the collar! Or did you mean smart as in clever clogs? I can’t claim to outdo him on that score, that’s for sure.’
The car is moving again, and I realise we’re only about ten minutes from home. Thank God for Syd, or I’d have been drenched.
‘You had a bit of a thing for our Jack, didn’t you?’
I’m shocked into silence. Syd had noticed that? And if he had, maybe the others had too.
‘Oh, don’t worry. I never said anything. Not to him, or to Rosie. Not my business, after all. And you were both single back then. Well, maybe not for much longer in Jack’s case, but he wasn’t actually hitched, was he? I did wonder, for a while there, if he might call the whole thing off. I take it he didn’t though?’
I shake my head, feeling the threat of tears. ‘No. He went back to Norfolk and got married, just as he’d planned. Probably never gave me another thought.’
‘Any kids?’
‘No, he says not.’
‘If he’s telling the truth. Be careful, Carly. Men can be… well, shall we say economical with the truth, when they want to be. And, if you felt he was out of bounds back then, then he still is now. Even more so, now he’s actually married, eh?’
‘Yeah, you’re right. Girl code – not that you’d know a lot about that – says that we never take another woman’s man. It’s just that I never really forgot about him, and it’s been a shock, seeing him again. He’s still so…’
‘What? Handsome? Irresistible? The one who got away?’ He shakes his head. ‘Don’t go there, Carly. You’re a pretty girl. A catch. Don’t let my Rosie hear me say that! You can have any man you want.’
‘But what if the man I want is Jack?’
‘Out of bounds. That ship has sailed. You said it yourself, so don’t do it, Carly. Don’t even think about doing it. Just because he’s back in London doesn’t have to mean he’s back in your life. It didn’t work before, when he was still free to let it, so why should it now? Going after him…’
‘Who said I was going to go after him?’
‘Okay, maybe not, but if you’re thinking about it… well, it can only lead to trouble, you do know that? Somebody will get their heart broken, and I don’t want it to be you, okay?’
I nod. ‘There’s just nobody I can talk to about it, Syd. Suze thinks it’s all a bit of a laugh, and Fran’s got more interest in her next doughnut than in my love life.’
‘Harsh, but probably true. So, why don’t you come round to ours one day soon? Rosie sees so little of her girlfriends these days. I know the baby talk can be a bit off-putting if you don’t have any of your own, but they do go to bed sometimes, despite the impression I may have given before! And she knew Jack. She’ll be happy to listen. Give advice, even if you don’t want to hear it.’
‘I might just do that.’
‘Now, are you sure you want to be dropped off at home? I’ve got no learners booked in, so I’m free for the evening. We could grab a drink somewhere? Talk some more?’
‘Syd! After all you said about me steering clear of married men!’
‘Oh, I don’t count. Too knackered and too much in love with my wife to be any danger.’
‘Thanks, but not tonight.’
‘Not even to share a bag of chips and a saveloy? I’ll be getting some anyway. I love a bit of unhealthy stodge. When the cat’s away and all that.’
‘Very tempting, but who knows where a chip could lead? Greasy fingers today, full-blown affair tomorrow!’ I laugh, and Syd joins in, pulling up outside my flat and putting his hand over mine.
‘Good decision. We men are so easily led! But seriously, Carly, I would like to catch up with Jack, if that’s all right with you. We could get some of the old crowd together. Once the company went bust, we all went our separate ways but I still see quite a few of them. And Rosie does let me out occasionally. You wouldn’t have to come along yourself. Unless you wanted to, of course.’
‘You know I’d want to. There’s just something about him, Syd.’
‘Let it go, Carly. Honestly, after all this time, let it go. He’s not available, and life is too short.’
‘I never had you down as such a philosopher.’
‘Just a realist, that’s all. It might feel like he’s the only man for you, but there are millions of us, you know. Plenty of good guys who could make you happy. Marriage, kids, domestic bliss. You should give it a try.’
I give a shrug, lean over and kiss him on the cheek. ‘Thanks. I don’t have Jack’s number or address or anything, but if you want to talk to him, just call the office and they’ll put you through. He’s in the IT department, obviously. Best not tell me where you’re meeting up though. I can’t give in to temptation and turn up if I don’t have the details, can I?’
‘Good decision. And he’s not that special, you know. Believe me, as a man who’s shared a flat with him, I know these things. That guy farts in his sleep, just like the rest of us. And his feet smell.’
I get out of the car, laughing, and run up the path through the rain, waving over my shoulder as the car moves away. Fran’s home, and I can detect the unmistakeable aroma of a Chinese takeaway as soon as I reach the top of the stairs and open the door to our flat. Suddenly, I feel really hungry and hope there’s enough going spare. A girl can’t live on chocolate alone, and I was starting to regret turning down that meal at Mum’s. To be honest, I’ve never been that keen on pork chops, and all the allotment talk would probably have been a real turn-off. And chips with my best friend’s husband didn’t feel right either, no matter how innocent the invitation.
‘Just in time,’ Fran says, as she spoons a dollop of chicken chop suey onto her plate and hands me what’s left in the carton. ‘Grab a fork, and stop me eating the lot!’