14. Carly
Chapter 14
Carly
I t’s time I did what I’ve been telling myself I’ll do for ages. I’m going to learn to drive. Running into Syd the other night reminded me it was time to steer away from Jack – excuse the pun! – and find myself something else to concentrate on. And who better to teach me than Syd himself?
I have invited myself round for the evening, partly to make the arrangements about the lessons, but mainly to catch up with Rosie who, I have to admit, I’ve missed seeing regularly these last few months.
Rosie is so pleased to see me it makes me feel guilty for leaving it so long. Both babies are asleep upstairs and, for once, the living room is tidy, if you don’t count the teetering pile of washed baby clothes on a chair, waiting to be put away, and the basket of dirty ones on the carpet, waiting to take their place in the machine.
‘Oh, it’s a never-ending operation.’ She laughs, noticing what I’m looking at. ‘Like painting the Forth Bridge!’ She points me towards the sofa and takes the bottle of wine I hold out to her. ‘I really shouldn’t,’ she says, ‘but a little one won’t hurt, will it? And I can’t leave you to drink the whole bottle by yourself.’
‘How about Syd?’
‘He’ll be back soon, but he’s out teaching again later, so he won’t drink. More than his job’s worth to even think of risking it.’
‘Very sensible. And good to know, if he’s going to take me on. More than enough risk there, with me let loose on the roads, without adding alcohol to the mix.’
‘Oh, don’t be daft. You’ll be great. You’ll take to it like a duck to water, I bet.’
I don’t remind her that water and me are not all that compatible either and that I can only just about manage one width of the pool, doggy-paddle style, before I collapse, breathless, at the side. The only things ducks and me have in common are big feet and a liking for bread!
‘So,’ she says, once she’s been out to the kitchen to find glasses and a corkscrew and then realises it’s a screw-top bottle. ‘Syd tells me Jack’s back on the scene after all this time.’ She pours me a glass of wine so full it’s in danger of slopping over the brim, and then does the same for herself. So much for a little one won’t hurt! I know she and Syd are not ones for keeping secrets from each other, but he did promise he wouldn’t say anything, so I’m really hoping she has no idea about Jack and me, or how I feel about him.
‘Good-looking bloke, was Jack. She’s a lucky lady, that little country wife of his.’
I laugh. ‘Rosie! And you a married mother of two. You’re not meant to notice good-looking blokes anymore.’ I take a big sip from my glass so I don’t have to say anything else.
‘Ah, but I wasn’t married back then, when I was noticing him, was I? He could be all wrinkled and gone to seed by now, for all I know.’
‘I’ve seen him, and he isn’t.’
‘He would have made a good match for you, you know, Carly. Up-and-coming professional type, smart suits, nice bum… Still, all water under the bridge now he’s been snapped up by someone else. God knows it’s time we found you somebody though, before the old ovaries dry up.’
I splutter my wine and put the glass down on the coffee table before I risk spilling it all over the furniture. ‘Ovaries? And old ovaries, at that! You sound just like my mother. There’s more to life than having babies, you know.’
‘Is there? I’ve forgotten.’
There’s a crackling on the baby monitor, propped up on the mantlepiece to my left, closely followed by a loud wailing. Talk about timing!
‘Oh, no peace for the wicked,’ Rosie says, standing up and heading for the stairs. ‘At least it’s only Jamie. Let’s hope I get to him before he wakes Becca up as well.’
‘You can tell which is which? Just from one cry?’
She gives me a strange look, as if I’ve just asked the most ridiculous question. ‘Of course I can. I’m their mum.’
By the time Syd comes home, I have been collared into holding Jamie while Rosie goes back up for Becca who has woken up crying within minutes of her brother. I have managed to dodge changing a nappy, although I had no choice but to watch at close range while Rosie did it, and it was not a simple wet one, believe me. How can one tiny baby make such a mess? And now I am cradling a baby in one arm and a feeding bottle in the other hand and wondering how I’m supposed to move my legs into a more comfortable position without disturbing the flow of milk and before cramp sets in.
Syd leans against the open door and watches me, smiling. ‘We’ll make a mother out of you yet, Carly,’ he says. He sees my expression and backtracks. ‘Well, a babysitter at least.’
I have to admit that this particular baby is quite cute, when he’s being quiet anyway. ‘Is that a hint? Because I could, I suppose. Babysit sometimes, I mean. If you were really stuck, obviously, because I know I’m not first choice material. But as your family are so far away, and you can’t keep asking Rosie’s mum…’ I have no idea why I just said that. Me, alone with two babies, for a whole evening? I just don’t have the experience, or the confidence, to know what on earth I’m doing. I should think before I speak sometimes, and there’s no way I should have made such a stupid offer. I hope they can see it’s stupid too and don’t take me up on it.
‘We can give lessons, if necessary,’ Rosie says, instantly attuned to what I’m thinking. I think my face might just have given it away. ‘Nappy changing, bottle warming, burping…’
‘I think maybe I should just start with the driving lessons, if that’s okay with you?’
‘Not a lot of difference really,’ Syd says. ‘Once you get the hang of the basics, it will all just fall into place. Mirror, signal, manoeuvre is pretty much like sniff, grab a nappy and wipe, when you come to think about it. Just a procedure to follow. Talking of which…’ He goes to a table in the corner and picks up his diary. ‘When did you want to start? The driving? I’ve got a slot spare tomorrow if you’re up for it? Seven o’clock, at yours? And I’ve got a copy of the Highway Code here somewhere. Never too soon to start working on the theory.’
We talk about the fees, which are horrifyingly higher than I’d realised, despite Syd giving me a mates-rates discount, and he checks that I’ve got my provisional licence, which I’ve actually had for ages although I never quite took the next scary step. A chicken, that’s what I am. Then he writes my name in the diary before he swigs down a big mug of coffee, grabs his car keys and leaves again. So, there’s no going back now. I am officially a learner.
Jamie opens his eyes and looks startled as he lets out an enormous burp, even though I haven’t put him up on my shoulder or done any of that back-patting stuff I thought you had to do. He’s only little and I guess he’s still learning about how things are meant to be done too.
I can do this! Babysitting, driving, maybe even swimming if I was to put my mind to it. And, as for getting over Jack Doherty… well, I can do that too. In fact, I’m doing it already. I just need my head to tell it to my heart, and job done!
When I next run into Jack, I have my coat on and two bulging carrier bags of lunchtime food shopping in my hands. It’s half past five and I’m about to head for home. As he comes out of the lift at ground level, I’m struggling with the main door and he rushes forward to hold it open for me. I get a delicious whiff of his aftershave as he squeezes through next to me and we stand together, a bit awkwardly, on the pavement outside.
‘Off home?’ he says.
‘Yep.’ I nod towards my bags. ‘Got a fridge to fill. You?’
‘Thought I might go for a drink first, actually. I don’t suppose you fancy keeping me company?’
My insides do a little jig, but I try to ignore it. Fancy it? Fancy him ? Of course I do, but even as my head starts to nod all by itself, I remember that he’s married and I know I’m making a stupid mistake, so I immediately start to backtrack, looking for an excuse to turn him down. ‘I’d love to, Jack, but…’
‘But you have other plans? A date? But maybe just a quick one, eh? Only half an hour. For old times’ sake?’
A quick one? I know he only means a drink, but I wish he wouldn’t say things like that, putting naughty ideas into my head. I feel myself hesitate. There is nothing I would rather do than spend time with Jack, but…
‘You’d be doing me a favour, rescuing me from an evening in front of Coronation Street .’ He has that look in his eyes that I just know I’m not going to be able to resist. Sort of pleading but cheeky at the same time. Oh, God, Jack, stop it. Don’t you know how much I want you?
‘I don’t believe for a minute that you’re a soap fan! But won’t you be expected home straight after work? Your wife…?’
‘She’s away at the moment. At her parents’ place. So, I’m not in any hurry to get back to an empty flat, despite my undying love for Deirdre Barlow and her sexy glasses.’
‘I think you’ll find she’s not in it anymore.’
‘Ah, well, the other one then. The old woman with the hairnet. Ena, or Elsie. Something like that. Come on, it’s just a drink, Carly. I’m not asking you to run away with me!’ He laughs, and suddenly my refusal seems churlish, childish, ridiculous. He’s right. It is just a drink.
‘Okay then. Why not?’
Jack takes one of my bags from me. He probably would have done the full-on gentleman thing and carried both if he didn’t already have his briefcase in one hand. ‘The Clarion all right with you?’
The Clarion is more of a posh wine bar than the pub I’d been expecting, but I don’t argue as we walk the five minutes or so to get there. It’s almost empty as we step into the calm, plush red-and-silver interior, quiet music playing in the background, and Jack leads me to a velvet-lined booth in the far corner.
‘What can I get you?’ he says, plonking my shopping down beside me and getting his wallet out of his jacket pocket.
I want a cider but I’m not sure they’d even have it in a place like this, so I ask for a small glass of Merlot, and Jack strolls over to the bar to get it. While he’s gone, I take the opportunity to adjust my belongings and myself, whipping out a mirror from my bag and quickly rearranging my hair and slicking on a dab of lip gloss, and piling both shopping bags onto the chair on the other side of the table so, when Jack gets back, he has no option but to sit beside me on the plush bench seat.
He comes back carrying two large empty glasses and a whole bottle of red. ‘I thought we were only stopping for one,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to get tiddly. I need a clear head. I’ve got things to do.’
‘Like put your beans away in the kitchen cupboard? What’s the problem with a bit of alcohol, Carly? Loosen up. I know you’re not driving tonight.’
‘You’ve spoken to Syd, haven’t you? You know about the driving lessons.’
‘I have, as it happens.’ He’s concentrating on pouring the wine, and carefully places an almost full glass down in front of me. ‘And I hear it’s down to you that he tracked me down, so thanks for that. It was good to hear from him, especially the blow-by-blow account of your first three-point turn.’ He’s smiling so much he’s bordering on actually laughing at me.
‘He didn’t tell you about that, did he?’ I can feel my face redden as I remember the mess I made of it, the bump as the front wheels slammed into the kerb. ‘Whatever happened to client confidentiality?’
Jack’s been holding the laugh back but he lets it escape now. ‘Just a little bit of banter between mates. It’s not going any further. It’s not as if he took photos and sold them to The Sun .’ He takes a big slug of his wine and looks at me. ‘I’m sorry. You know I’m only teasing. We’ve all had to learn, all made mistakes. I think it’s pretty brave of you actually, starting at your age.’
‘My age? I’m thirty-one, not bloody ninety!’
‘Yeah, but you know what I mean. I had my first lesson the minute I was seventeen. All over-confident and cocky. And did all my practising on little quiet country roads, but it still didn’t stop me hitting a fence post or running over a pheasant.’
‘You didn’t! The poor thing.’
‘Oh, it was already dead before I got there. It happens a lot, in the country. But still not a nice feeling squishing what was left of it into the road. Not as if I could have picked it up and taken it home for Mum to cook. It was too far gone for that.’
‘Yuk!’
We sit in silence for a few minutes. In my head, the image of the dead bird seems to merge with the redness of the wine, which suddenly looks a lot like blood. It’s good wine though, far better than the cheap plonk the pubs sell. It must have cost a fair bit.
‘So, are you meeting up with Syd? He said he’d quite like to get some of your old workmates together for a catch-up.’
‘Yeah, Saturday.’
I am not going to ask for the details. I promised Syd I’d stay away from Jack and I’ve already broken that one, even though I hadn’t meant to. Besides, he could be taking his wife along, for all I know, if she’s back by then. And I really don’t want to meet her. I don’t even want to know what she looks like. It’s best she remains shadowy, if that’s the right word. Faceless. I don’t want to think of her as an enemy, a rival. Not even as a real person. In fact, I don’t want to have to think about her at all.
‘Molly will probably still be away, so I’ll be footloose and fancy free.’ It’s as if he’s read my mind. ‘Boys’ night out.’
‘Well, behave yourself, or make sure Syd does anyway. He’s a father now, remember. A responsible family man.’
Something passes over Jack’s face, but I can’t quite pinpoint what it is.
‘It’s just a drink, Carly.’ The same words he said to me just minutes ago. ‘Well, a few, probably. But no funny business. When men get together it’s not all strip clubs and trying to get off with the barmaid, you know. I like to think we’ve grown out of all that. Well, I know I have.’
‘Sorry.’
He gives me one of those killer smiles of his and touches my hand. The briefest of touches but I swear I can still feel it, all warm and tingly, after he takes it away.
‘Nothing to be sorry for. I’m just not the same man I was when you knew me before. I’m…’
‘Married?’ I wish I hadn’t jumped right in with that, but it just slipped out. Anyone would think I was jealous.
‘Well, yes, that, obviously. But I meant that I’m older, more settled, at work as well as at home. And I want to do well, make something of my life. I have… ambition, I suppose.’
‘Me too. That’s why I changed jobs, and moved out of Mum’s, and why I’m learning to drive. Having a go at being a proper grown-up!’
‘And how’s that going?’
I pick up my wine, lift it to my lips and blow a stream of noisy bubbles into it. ‘It’s a work in progress,’ I say, giggling until a spurt of wine erupts out of the corner of my mouth and runs down my chin, and we both laugh so much that Jack nearly knocks his glass over, makes a grab for it and wobbles the table, making one of my tins of beans leap out of its carrier bag and roll away like a bowling ball, hurtling across the floor towards the bar.
I stumble forward, bend down and make a grab for it, my hand grasping at Jack’s ankle to stop myself landing flat on my face. He hauls me to my feet and pulls me back down beside him, our bodies now suddenly much closer than they were before. I can feel the heat from his thigh, and all sorts of delicious thoughts come rushing into my head. Oh dear! Drinking may not be such a good idea, for either of us, but as he lifts the bottle and tops up my glass I don’t try to stop him.