31
Waiting to be cleared away were the remnants of their Indian takeaway (which Brian had brought back with him – ‘Don’t tell Suze, she’d kill me!’). Rowan had been tucked up for the night, and the three grown-ups were chatting away, catching up on Spike’s trip to the UK so far, as Brian regaled them with his acting tales and his chances of being in a new Spielberg movie, and Polly swapped tales about her shop and recent falling-out and making-up with Mel over the whole baby thing.
‘Bloody hell,’ Brian said, grinning at Spike. ‘You ought to consider setting up your own sperm bank, mate. I’m deadly serious. Good lookin’ bloke like you. Could get serious dosh from some of those single celebs desperate to have a kid. I could introduce you to one or two. Serious.’
‘No feckin’ chance,’ came Spike’s good-natured reply. He gave Polly a bit of a stare, which she was far too tiddly to bother to try and fathom out. After their emotionally trying day, they’d been knocking back the wine as if it was going out of fashion.
‘Just saying. Quick flick through a dirty mag, a little how’s yer father, and Bob’s yer uncle.’
Polly immediately got the giggles, ending up snorting some of her wine through her nose.
They retired to the comfortable sitting room, where earlier Brian had lit a log fire, as even though it would soon be June, there was a chill in the air. Polly sat on their old squishy sofa next to Spike, who lounged, stretching out his long legs, one arm casually laid across the back of the seat. The threesome were about to embark on their third (or possibly fourth – Polly wasn’t sure) bottle of red, when Brian clearly decided it was time to start delivering some home truths.
It began gently enough, with Brian saying to Spike, ‘How old are you now then, Spike?’
Polly shifted in her seat so she was more upright. ‘That’s a funny question. He’s not a child, you know.’
Spike gently laughed. ‘That’s all right. I’ll be thirty in October, Brian.’
‘October? Same as Polly. You a Libra too?’
‘Well yes.’
Brian was into New Age stuff these days, since he’d qualified as a shiatsu master to keep him occupied in between acting jobs.
‘That’ll explain it then,’ Brian said, rather cryptically, Polly thought. ‘Scales, you see,’ he continued. ‘Find it difficult to make decisions, do Libras, ’cos they like to weigh up the pros and cons.’ He mimicked the movement of tipping scales. ‘Once they do make up their minds, they stick to it. Now, Suze, she’s a Leo. Like our little Rowan. Heart of a lion, the pair of them, and no shilly-shallying, either.’
Polly was all too aware of Spike’s arm resting on the top of the sofa, just above her shoulders. She imagined she could feel the heat radiating between them, almost sense the electricity building, then arcing across the gap like an old Victorian experiment in a Hammer Horror movie. She wondered if her hair might be standing up on end. Don’t be daft , she told herself, it’s too long … Yet she didn’t need to reach up to touch those tell-tale hairs on the back of her neck (where her hair was pinned up with a tortoiseshell clip), nor the downy ones on her arm, to know they had all pinged to attention.
‘We’re lost orphans, see, ain’t we?’ said Brian. ‘Spike here lost his parents, I never really knew mine…’ He stopped, and stared intently at Polly. ‘Isn’t it about time you pulled yourself together, Poll, and stopped blaming your mother for what happened all those years back?’
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, sitting bolt upright. ‘Blame her for what?’ She began to feel like a petulant teenager. ‘Abandoning me as a kid, you mean?’
‘She feels bad about all that, truly she does.’
‘I’ll bet,’ said Polly, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. ‘But clearly not bad enough to have stayed at home! I’d never in a million years leave Rowan.’
Brian topped up his glass and poked the logs back into life. ‘All this negativity, Poll. It’s not good karma.’ He returned to his armchair. ‘Suze felt she had no choice – at the time.’
‘Yeah right. Look, no offence, Brian, but you weren’t there.’
‘No, I know I weren’t, Poll, but Suze… well, she’s told me all about it. There are things you don’t know. Things she’s kept from you.’
‘Like what? I guess she’s had enough time to concoct some sort of excuse. But let me tell you that nothing could account for what she did.’
Brian sighed. ‘I know your mum would kill me for saying all this, but it has to stop. It really does. For her sake, and for yours too. She already thinks she’s got cancer as punishment for what she did to you. And that’s not right.’
‘You may think I’m being harsh, Brian. And it’s awful – we’re all devastated – to even think that she might have cancer. But it’s hardly my fault, is it, if she thinks it’s some kind of karmic payback?’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t believe in all that karma shit, in any case. But let’s not forget that I was only ten when she left…’
‘The same age as she was when her mother died…’ Brian said to her, like this was of some significance – but Polly, although feeling stone-cold sober, was rather befuddled by the wine and the fire and the way the evening was going.
Spike moved his arm from behind Polly and, leaning forwards, he said to Brian, ‘Is this the time and place for all this?’
‘If not now, when, eh? Now seems the ideal time to me.’ He turned an earnest face to Polly. ‘Your father was no saint, Poll.’
‘I know he’s a difficult man,’ Polly conceded.
‘Back then, you see, your mum… well, she was young, and we all do silly things when we’re young. Make decisions we later come to regret. She was only a kid herself when she had you, and she felt trapped…’
Polly snorted.
‘Trapped with your father, who didn’t get her one little bit. Didn’t give a monkey’s about how she’s a free spirit an’ all that…’
‘Free spirit? Ha! A convenient excuse for not taking responsibility.’ Polly was now sitting upright.
‘She thought that what she did was for the best.’
‘Best for her, you mean.’
‘No. Best for you. She thought leaving you with your father was the best for you, Polly. She knew he could give you a stable home. In any case, he threatened to take her to court, do all sorts if she took you with her. She felt she had no choice. See, things were different back then. Being a single mother was more of a stigma. She had no folks to go home to. She’d run away from her dad when she was fifteen…’
‘I didn’t know.’
‘No. She don’t like talking about it. Back then, she lived in squats, or on people’s floors. Then she got into art school, met your father, and before too long was pregnant. When she fell for you – well, he seemed like a good option. He played along as if he wanted the same things from life as her. But he was just acting at being an art school teacher and living an alternative lifestyle. He couldn’t wait to become a civil servant – suited him down to the ground. What he really wanted was the whole wifey at home with a kid. He wanted to clip her wings, Poll. But that’s not Suze. We both know that – and, well, she needed to be free.’
‘So she left me behind.’
‘As I understand it, she did try and see you whenever she could. She hoped you’d come live with her once she was settled in London. She begged your father. But he was havin’ none of it.’
‘Because he loved her! He was heartbroken when she left!’ Polly could remember only too well her father crying openly, in front of her. Clinging onto little Polly, so that she felt like running and running and not stopping until she found her mum. How he’d listen out for the click of the gate, signalling that Suze had returned. How they both had.
‘She did her best. But she was stony broke. She had you to stay holidays and stuff when she could…’
Yes, but you have no idea how a nomadic lifestyle affects a child , Polly thought, but didn’t say. She’d never ever do that to Rowan.
‘She was into drugs an’ stuff too,’ he said. ‘She’d had issues with her own father after her mother died… He… well, you can imagine. I don’t need to draw pictures, I guess, do I? Let’s just say he expected her to fill her mother’s shoes in more ways than one.’
Polly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was this true? Yet she knew at some deep level that it was. Of course. Now she could understand why Suze had run away at fifteen. And presumably why she’d mistaken Jeff for the one thing she needed – a father figure. Someone to take care of her and to love her as she was. Instead she got boring Jeff, who wanted her to stay at home and look after him, just as her father had.
‘She tried to stay with your dad. But she didn’t love him.’ He shook his head like a wounded bear. ‘She’s had loads of therapy since…’
‘Right,’ muttered Polly.
‘So have I. That’s how we met. At NA meetings. She’s been going to them on and off for years. I guess I’m luckier than most. I’m alive, and I’ve come to terms with my issues through therapy. I like to think I’ve been good for your mother. Helped her through rehab an’ stuff.’
‘Yes,’ said Polly, her brain carrying on doing its own sifting, own rearranging. ‘I know, Brian. Suze told me. You’re doing brilliantly, and I know you’ve helped her. Truly. You’re great for her.’
‘Five years clean, now. Mostly down to Suze. She’s kept me on the straight and narrow. Strong, see. She’s strong, Polly. Like you.’
I am ? thought Polly.
‘So there we have it. Thought you oughta know. Course, I dare say you and Suze will have a lot to talk about once she’s over this blip. Don’t look at me like that.’ He smiled a slow smile. ‘I’m sure it is a blip and that she’ll be fine. But you see how much she’s blamed herself, and has more or less taken it as her due that you’d hate her…’
‘That’s stupid. I don’t hate her. She can be infuriating…’ she said, a wry smile playing about her lips.
‘She sure can,’ said Brian giving a full-on grin.
‘…a right pain in the arse…’ Polly smiling some more, and then serious face. ‘But…oh, I don’t know. It’s a lot to take in.’
Spike rubbed her hand in his, and she was so glad that he was there.
‘And Spike, here,’ said Brian, turning his affable face towards Spike. ‘You’re more sorted, aren’t you, son? Not running off to Australia anymore, I hope.’
‘Well, I…’
‘Nah, I mean, not running away from our Poll here.’
‘I wasn’t aware that I was running away,’ Spike said, a thoughtful tone to his voice. In the grate, the fire settled into a cosy orange glow.
Polly said nothing.
‘You know what I’m saying,’ added Brian. ‘Got yer wanderlust out of the way, I expect. Must be ready to settle down yourself, eh?’
Polly wondered if Brian had acquired the skills of a spellmaster. (What are they called again? Ah yes, male witches… no, that’s not it… warlocks… wonder why “war”. And if they’re meant to have flowing locks – if so, Brian hardly fits the bill…) Polly was feeling all glowy from the warm fire as the wine finally wove its soporific effect on her.
‘Maybe I am done with wandering,’ said Spike. ‘Maybe I could be ready.’
Polly gave him a sideways glance, her heart thundering in her chest, but Spike was staring into the depths of the fire. Ah, you silly twit. With Bam, he means, doesn’t he? So Bam was right. He is about to ask her to marry him. And I can never tell him how I feel.
Brian cut across her thoughts. ‘There’s one other thing about your mother, Polly. She worries about you all the time, you know.’ Polly could feel herself bristle. ‘Suze hates to see you struggling on your own. Would it hurt to let her give you money now and then? All she’s trying to do is help.’
‘I like to stand on my own two feet,’ Polly said, feeling decidedly uncomfortable getting into all this with Brian.
‘There it is,’ he said. ‘That independent streak you’ve got from your mum. But ask yourself this, Polly. If you had more money than you knew what to do with, wouldn’t you want to use it to secure Rowan’s future?’
Well, yes, she would, thought Polly. That’s right. She would. Slowly she began to nod her head.
‘After all, if she doesn’t give it to you now, the taxman will only take it from her when she’s dead.’
A heavy silence fell, all solemnly acknowledging that Brian had used the dreaded “d” word.
‘Not that it will come to that – not just yet,’ said Brian. ‘Not while I’m here to look after her. We all need looking after, Poll. You know – like that song – I love this song –’ and to Polly and Spike’s immense surprise, Brian burst into a short rendition of “Someone to Watch Over Me”. He had a fine, surprisingly soulful voice. He beamed at them both – ‘I often sing it to Suze. She loves it.’
Polly got to her feet to lean over and give Brian a hug. ‘Mum’s very lucky to have you, Brian.’
‘On the contrary, twinkle,’ he said, ‘I’m very lucky to have her. And I intend to keep her, an’ all.’
Right then, Polly was convinced that Brian would move heaven and earth for her mother. She felt envious, and ashamed that she did so. Outside an owl screeched.
‘So, changing the subject here. If you two ain’t together, how about this Max fella? Might he be a likely candidate, Poll? For your happy ever after?’
‘Honestly, Brian!’
‘Just askin’, like.’
‘No, he’s not my “happy ever after” as you put it,’ she said, thinking how, if she tucked her legs up underneath her, she’d be close enough to snuggle into the crook of Spike’s arm – but couldn’t. He was off limits, she knew. ‘We’re over.’
‘That’s sad, Polly. Are you sure you’re not doing your own running away? Too scared to let yourself love?’
Polly was stung. If this was Brian all “touchy-feely”, she might well prefer his more usual “strong and silent”. He didn’t know her well enough to offer up such an opinion of her.
‘You know, Suze does understand where your hostility towards her comes from. But hasn’t it been long enough? I’m just saying this because I love you both, and it breaks my heart to see you sniping at each other. Course, she thinks it’s all she deserves, but I reckon it’s time you let her off the hook, don’t you?’
‘Brian, I know you mean well, but I’m not sure…’
‘Perhaps own your own problems with your failure of trust? Why not let love in, Polly?’
Ah, but once she had, and Spike had broken her heart. Now Brian had not only brought back the pain of her mother leaving but also the loss of the one and only man she could ever truly love. Tears threatened to fill her eyes, and without further ado, Polly rose to her feet and made for the French windows.
‘I’ve gone too far, haven’t I?’ said Brian.
She opened the doors and stepped outside. Behind her she heard Spike say, ‘Leave her, Brian. She’ll be fine. Give her some space.’
*
Polly wandered down towards the river, letting the night weave its magic, as she came to stand on the lawn, where large trees lurked at the edges and a breeze rustled their leaves. She looked up at a sky dark with lighter-coloured clouds daubed across its surface, like a 1980s paint effect: downstream the riverbank was dotted here and there with the odd building, each with one or two lights switched on. They cast their shadows through the mist, giving a ghostly glow reminiscent of gas streetlamps and a gentler age. Polly couldn’t decide if the glimmering expanse of estuary was all water or part wet mud as lighter runnels ribboned its surface. In the near distance came the call of a bird returning to its roost.
Turning, she sensed first and then saw Spike walking across the lawn towards her, the white flashes on his Converse trainers bright.
‘Watch out for the – whoops!’ she called, too late, as he’d not noticed the slope, and what with the soles of his shoes having little to no grip, he slipped and slithered and with a ‘Whoah!’ slid right into her, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
Polly managed to sit up first. ‘You’re just not kitted out for the country, are you?’
‘Oh, and you are?’ he said, pointing to her Ugg boots. ‘Out here in yer slippers.’
‘I’ll have you know Kerry Katona speaks very highly of them!’
‘Oh, is it Kerry Katona, now?’ he said. ‘Only I don’t read Heat magazine these days, Poll, not since…’
Not since we were together , hung in the air between them.
‘C’mon,’ he said, breaking the spell as he got to his feet. He held out his hands. ‘You don’t want to be stayin’ down there or you’ll get the collywobbles.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘Whoops-a-daisy.’
She brushed her skirt down, and they both stood side by side, looking out over the night scene.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ she said in a half-whisper.
‘’Tis from where I’m standing.’ He was gazing down at her, and her heart leapt into a gallopy-gallop. She could just make out his smile in the light spilling through the French windows.
‘Sorry about all that,’ she said. ‘You know. Inside. Brian and whatnot.’
‘Don’t be.’
‘Dragging you into our family stuff.’
She heard him sigh. ‘Have I not told you before, Polly?’ he said, looking up at the sky. ‘We have Rowan now. Whatever happens, we are family.’
She couldn’t stop it, but a quick burst of Sister Sledge’s “We Are Family” jumped into her head, and she giggled softly.
‘Polly?’ he said, looking at her with an intensity she could feel but not see. ‘What are you sniggering at? Are you drunk, now?’ He had a cheeky tone to his voice, too.
‘A bit squiffy perhaps,’ she said, and hiccupped.
‘What are you like? C’mon here.’ He stepped forwards. ‘You must be freezing.’ He pulled her to him, wrapping her in his embrace as she savoured his unique Spike smell, as warm and comforting as toast. ‘What am I going to do with you?’
She looked up into his face. Into his gorgeous, manly Spike face, and softly whispered, ‘Make love to me.’
That was when he kissed her. She closed her eyes, knowing that this was what she’d been waiting for all these weeks since his return. He took her by the hand and led her inside, up the stairs, and outside the door to his room.
‘What about Rowan?’ she said.
He opened Polly’s bedroom door so they could both see that Rowan was sound asleep. ‘She’ll be fine,’ he said, gently closing the door.
‘How about Brian?’
Spike put his fingers to his lips, and in the quiet they could both hear Brian’s snores emanating from his room along the landing. ‘Out for the count,’ whispered Spike.
He turned to face Polly, gazing at her as though feasting his eyes. ‘You never looked lovelier.’
‘Talk about cheesy,’ she said, feeling bashful.
‘Are you teasing a man when he’s opening up his heart to yeh?’ he said. ‘I’ve Jammie Dodgers in me bag.’
‘You trying to lure me in?’
He took her hand once more. ‘I am. If you’re sure about this.’ And she nodded.
Then they were inside his room. In the dark half-light. The kind of light you get in the countryside when there are no streetlamps but a bright moon.
‘I suppose you’ll want to talk?’ he said, kissing her neck and taking her breath away. ‘Discuss what’s going on here, with us?’
‘No,’ she half whispered. ‘Later perhaps.’
He led her towards the bed.
‘They do say, don’t they,’ Polly was prattling, nervously, ‘that when there’s death – not that Suze – not that Mum is going to die, touch wood, but you know, I heard on Radio 4 once that it makes you horny… something about nature’s need to procreate…’
‘Will you stop your babbling, Polly,’ said Spike, with more than a twinkle in those Irish eyes of his. ‘Oh. Hang on. You’re not after me sperm again, are you?’
She thumped him on the arm. ‘Don’t be daft,’ she said.
‘Good.’ His mouth was on hers, and as they kissed she felt herself go, as if she was falling, falling down Alice’s rabbit hole, as she savoured his taste, his mouth. She arched her back and he nibbled her neck, just up by her ears where she liked it, his hands reaching up under her dress…
‘What the…?’ he said, as he encountered her Spanx knickers. ‘Big Bridget Jones pants?’
‘Shut up.’ She unbuckled his belt as they both fell back on the bed.
‘I don’t have any condoms,’ he said.
‘It’s okay,’ she answered, ‘I’ve just had my period. It’ll be fine.’
They were making love. Not fucking. It was beyond that, beyond the big-dick-show-off-pounding that Max was so fond of. Instead this was so tender that at one point, Polly began to cry.
‘Don’t cry, Polly,’ he said.
‘I can’t help it.’
He covered her mouth with soft kisses as he moved inside her; Polly was close to coming… she was going to come… but Spike slowed right down, deliciously taking his time, resting on his elbows as he smiled into her face. ‘Not yet. There’s no rush.’ As they moved together, Polly thought of how she so wanted this – this moment – this feeling – this whole giving of herself – languorous, hot honey breaths; short, sharp gasping; fingers entwined, turning, smooth and slippery – as finally she came in a burst of everything, and felt him come inside her too.
‘I love you, Polly,’ he murmured, and she thought she might explode with happiness, her face wet with soundless tears, which he wiped away with his thumbs.
‘I love you too,’ she whispered.
‘Well, that’s all right then,’ he said. ‘So long as you respect me in the morning.’ And she thought how there was nothing more wondrous than the smile on his face. She rubbed the stubble that was coming through on his chin. If she was a cat, she might well have purred.
He touched the side of her face, next to her right eye. ‘I love this part of your face after we make love. Right there. You look so happy.’
She had to say it. ‘I thought you loved Bam.’
He leant on one elbow. ‘Not like I love you, Polly. It sounds terrible, I know, but I think I must have needed Bam to get over you.’
Could that be true?
‘I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Polly, and what might have been had I stayed.’
‘You couldn’t?’
With his finger, he brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes. ‘Why do you think I kept my boat here in Bristol?’
‘Umm, renting it to Leo?’
‘Because, silly, I had an excuse to return.’
‘But—?’
‘No more ifs and buts, Polly. We’ve got tonight. Let’s consider all the rest tomorrow, because…’ he added, with a broad lascivious smile ‘…I’ve got some energy left, and it would be a shame to waste this.’ He pulled back the covers.
‘Shame indeed,’ she said, reaching for him.
She must have fallen asleep, as she woke with a start and saw that he was gone. A note on the pillow next to her read:
Polly, don’t worry about Rowan. I’m sleeping in your room tonight so you won’t be disturbed. Enjoy your sleep, gorgeous.
Spike xxx
A bright moon shone through her window: the sort of moon you could wish on, to make dreams come true.