Impossible To Forget, page 17
The weather forecast was appalling so, of course, they were having a barbecue, with carefully selected meat alternatives for the vegetarians. In the planning stage, she had pictured her guests milling happily on the lawn in the late afternoon sunshine and only drifting inside when the autumn chill sent them in search of warmth. And even then, she’d secretly hoped that they would stay outside and not traipse dirt into her house. But there was no hope of that now. All her guests, adults and children alike, would have to be entertained indoors.
She had bought a gazebo so she could still cook outside at least, but as for the rest of it, they would definitely be in the house. Maggie looked at her pale cream carpets and the French-polished coffee table and sighed. C’est la vie.
Angie and Romany arrived first, by arrangement, in order to provide moral support. Angie was carrying an enormous birthday cake. Every available inch of its chocolate coating was adorned with a sweet of some kind and it was dotted all over with candles, many sticking out from the sides at ninety degrees so that the wax would drip directly on to whatever it sat on instead of dribbling neatly down to the candle holders. Maggie’s face burst into a smile the moment she saw it.
‘Happy birthday, Auntie Maggie,’ said Romany, grinning and bouncing on her toes at Angie’s side. ‘Do you like your cake? I decorated it, didn’t I, Mummy?’
So much was obvious, and Maggie felt her heart swell at the effort that Romany had clearly made for her and for Angie, who had made it happen.
‘I LOVE my cake,’ said Maggie, bending down and sweeping Romany up into a hug. At almost six, she was getting a little bit big to be lifted like this, but she wrapped her legs around Maggie’s hips and did her best to help bear the load. ‘Thank you, Romany!’ She showered Romany with little kisses on the top of her head.
‘What can we do to help?’ asked Angie, carrying the cake through to the kitchen and then coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway. ‘Oh, not much, I see,’ she said. ‘Blimey, Mags. Do you never just go with the flow?’
‘Preparation is key to success,’ Maggie replied, gently setting a wriggling Romany back down. ‘You remember that, Romey,’ she added as they followed Angie into the kitchen, where nibbles, drinks, plates, cutlery, sauces, glasses, salads, breads and pretty much anything that you might need for a successful barbecue were all laid out in poker-straight rows along the granite surfaces.
‘That’s right, Romes. You listen to your Auntie Maggie,’ said Angie. She turned and gave Maggie a squeeze. ‘Happy birthday, Mags,’ she said. ‘I got you something, but I left it at the flat.’
Her eyes stayed focused on the preparations and Maggie saw her cheeks flare. There would be no gift, but Maggie couldn’t have cared less. The cake said everything that needed to be said.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Tiger,’ she said, not wanting to bring the subject up but not being able to resist asking.
Angie smirked and Maggie braced herself for the ribbing that was coming her way, but Angie just shook her head.
‘Nah. Not even sure where he is. No doubt he’ll be spending his fortieth on a beach somewhere. Lucky sod.’ Angie’s eyes dropped to Romany to see if she had heard. Maggie had noticed how she tried to moderate her language when her daughter was around and, whilst being surprised that it mattered to her, appreciated the effort that she made. Romany was counting the glasses, walking up and down the rows pointing at each one in turn as she mouthed the numbers, and hadn’t heard.
The guests started to arrive and congregated in the kitchen. Maggie flew around them in turn, accepting gifts and offering drinks. As they all knew each other, there was no need for any introductions other than Angie and Romany, and Angie had that covered. She had lost none of her confidence over the years, Maggie thought as she watched her friend walk straight up to a group of strangers and cut across the conversation, but now Maggie found that she was more in awe of it than irritated.
Time was ticking on and still there was no sign of Leon and Becky. Maggie had half-expected them to cancel – things were still pretty chilly between them and Becky, who had never really warmed to their charms – but she had heard nothing and so had to assume that they were on their way. It would be nice for Romany, if nothing else. She seemed to enjoy the company of Leon’s boys, who played with her as indulgently as if she were a little cousin. The boys were chips off Leon’s block, not Becky’s.
Richard, her fellow partner and well-known bon viveur, had offered to run the barbecue for her and soon the delicious smells of charring beef were wafting through the house, and gradually guests drifted from the kitchen and into the conservatory which adjoined the impromptu tented kitchen outside. There was no carpet in there; Maggie noted this and then berated herself for caring. She allowed herself a small moment of congratulation. It was a lovely party so far and everyone seemed to be relaxed and having a nice time.
When Becky and Leon finally arrived, however, they changed the atmosphere for Maggie all by themselves. She was just coming out from checking the towels in the downstairs cloakroom when she heard them bickering on the doorstep before they knocked.
‘So you say, Leon, but it’s not all about you. I’ll stay for thirty minutes and then we’ll make our excuses.’
‘You’re being ridiculous. Maggie is one of my oldest friends. Is it too much to ask to come to her birthday party?’
There was no reply to this. Apparently, it was.
Maggie loitered in the hallway waiting for the doorbell to ring, and after a moment or two it did. She waited a moment longer, set her face into a smile and then opened the door. Leon was standing on the doorstep. He looked grey and tired, like someone recovering from a long and arduous illness, but he returned her smile when he saw her. Becky’s face was set like granite and the boys were investigating the stone sundial that stood in the middle of the front garden, far from their bickering parents.
‘Happy birthday, Maggie. So sorry we’re late.’ He shrugged as if to say, ‘you know how it is,’ but gave no excuse for their tardiness. There was no need. Maggie had heard all she needed to. He pressed a tasteful bouquet of white calla lilies and roses into her hands. There was no card.
‘Come in, come in,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Good trip over, I hope. Let me take your jackets. Boys, if you want to go to the kitchen you can help yourself to a drink. Romany is here. She’s dying to see you. And wait until you see the cake she made.’
Thomas and James pushed past their parents, each giving Maggie a sheepish grin as they went.
‘Happy birthday,’ said James quietly as he passed her, and Maggie whispered a thank you.
The atmosphere between Leon and Becky was so strained that Maggie kept talking, desperately trying to paper over the cracks.
‘Drinks are in the kitchen. The food is pretty much ready, I think. Shame about the weather but there’s no guarantee of anything, is there? Angie is here somewhere. You’ll hear her.’
‘I’m afraid we can’t stay long,’ said Becky almost before she was in the house. ‘My mother’s not been well, and I don’t like to leave her too long.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Maggie said. ‘Nothing too serious, I hope.’
Leon looked at his shoes and Becky ignored the question.
At least the party was in enough swing for their frostiness not to show to other guests, but Maggie noticed Becky pour herself a large glass of white wine and then stand by the window, looking out over the garden with her back to the room.
‘Have you got anything soft?’ Leon asked.
‘Of course,’ replied Maggie, and reeled off the multitude of alternatives. ‘Is everything okay, Lee?’
Leon nodded and seemed unwilling to get drawn into details.
Maggie changed direction. ‘I can’t believe how much the boys have grown,’ she said.
Leon beamed. ‘I know! We can barely keep them in school uniform, and you should see the size of their feet!’
‘And it’ll be secondary school before you know it,’ added Maggie. ‘Is Thomas still enjoying his football?’
‘Oh yes. He lives and breathes Leeds United. He’s just like my brother, in fact. And he’s still training with the academy. I don’t suppose it will come to anything, but you have to let them try.’
‘Try what?’ asked Angie, who had just appeared at Leon’s side.
‘I was just talking about Thomas and his football,’ Leon said. ‘He wants to be a professional and even though it’s so tough to get into, I feel that it’s up to us to support him to at least try.’
‘To encourage him to follow his dreams and not settle for what he thinks he ought to do?’ said Angie, eyebrow raised. ‘Yes. I definitely think that’s what you should be doing.’
Leon’s eyes rolled heavenward as if to tell her, I know what you’re saying, but let’s not say it today. ‘And James is enjoying his drama group,’ he continued. ‘He was in a little show in the spring. I know I’m biased, but he was definitely the best on the stage.’
‘I bet he was,’ said Maggie. ‘They’re a credit to you, Leon. To both of you,’ she added quickly, shooting a quick glance at Becky who was still staring out of the window.
They chatted on, exchanging news, interrupted only by occasional warnings to the three children who raced around the adults stealing food and giggling, but after what felt like no time at all, Becky began looking at her watch. She came across to where they were chatting and threw meaningful and not that subtle glances at Leon, who took the hint almost at once.
‘Well, I’m sorry Mags, but we’re going to have to love you and leave you. I’m sorry it’s been so short-lived.’
‘But you haven’t even had any food yet,’ objected Maggie, but she could see that she was on a hiding to nothing. Leon shrugged and pulled a face.
‘Let’s get together again soon,’ said Angie. ‘Just the three of us,’ she added, staring so pointedly at Becky that Maggie felt her own cheeks warm.
‘Great idea,’ replied Leon.
It took a few minutes to round up the boys and prise Romany off them but then they were ready to go.
‘Thank you so much, Maggie,’ said Becky, poised as if on starter’s blocks at the door. ‘It’s been lovely.’
Maggie didn’t even smile. What was the point? They both knew the score. Becky went to the car, taking the complaining boys with her, leaving Maggie and Leon on the doorstep.
‘Are you really okay, Lee?’ she pressed quietly.
‘She means well,’ he replied. ‘She just prefers to socialise with her own friends.’
Maggie nodded and pulled him into a hug. ‘Well, we’re here for you,’ she said into his ear. ‘If you need us. Never forget that.’
They stood there in the embrace for a moment longer until Maggie heard a sharp blast on a car horn.
‘Better go,’ said Leon, unwrapping his arms from around her. Then he took her hand in his. Maggie couldn’t remember them ever holding hands before and it felt peculiar, but not awkward.
‘Thanks, Maggie,’ he said. As he spoke, he looked directly into her eyes. For a moment, Maggie thought she saw something there that she had never seen before, but then it was gone. She must have been mistaken.
Later, after the guests had all gone, declaring the party a success as they went, and Maggie was finishing off the tidying up, she tried to recapture his expression in her mind, but it eluded her. She wasn’t really sure that it had been there in the first place.
Tiger never appeared.
29
THE TWENTY-TENS
2013
Hope took a deep breath and pushed open the classroom door. It was a good ten years since she had last set foot in an educational establishment, but it still had that same smell – hot bodies, stale food and bleach. Did all places of learning smell like that, she wondered? She imagined that they must do. This wasn’t her old school, but if she closed her eyes then it might have been.
There was a low-level hum of chatter in the room, again, just as she remembered there being at school. Lots of people not concentrating on the job in hand. That had been her, back in the day – sitting as far from the teacher as she could get away with and firing spitballs of paper across heads with her ruler.
Still, that was another time, a different Hope.
The desks were arranged in pairs, each facing the whiteboard at the front. That was a blessing, at least. She hated it when the room was arranged into a horseshoe so that the discussions were forced to be more participatory. She had no wish to get to know anything at all about her fellow students, to discuss topics with them or hear their views. The only important person in this room would be the tutor, although there was no sign of him as yet. She hoped he wasn’t going to be one of those scatty types who was too easily led off topic and filled the allotted time with anecdotes that were of little interest to anyone else. Teachers like that were a dream when she’d been at school, but she wasn’t a child any more. She was here to learn.
The room was almost full, and Hope cursed silently to herself. She had intended to be here first so that she could get her pick of the places, but the phone had rung just as she was leaving: an international call that she needed to take to make sure that the rest of the day continued to run smoothly in her absence. By the time she had sorted the problem, she was twenty minutes behind where she had wanted to be. There were still a few spare places scattered about, though, and she spotted, with relief, a double desk in the back row. She made for that one, keeping her head dipped and her cap pulled down low, and laid claim to it.
She sat on one of the chairs and put her bag on the other one. There were plenty of other free places. No one would come and sit next to her if it looked like she was saving the seat for someone else. She might even be the last to arrive. She took her pencil case and new notebook out of her Mulberry briefcase, a gift from a shoot in London a few years ago but still pristine, and placed them neatly in front of her. She was ready.
Moments later the door opened, and a boy came in and headed straight for the desk at the front. He wasn’t really a boy, Hope knew, but he could barely be out of university. She batted down a mild pang of irritation. She was here to learn, so she expected the tutor to be at least older than her own twenty-eight years, and preferably in the balding and middle-aged camp so she could be sure that they knew more about their subject than she did. The tutor took a slim-looking laptop out of his messenger bag and opened it up on the desk in front of him. Hope’s paper and pen felt instantaneously outmoded. It hadn’t occurred to her to bring her own laptop, but she would next time. She took a sly glance at her fellow students but some of them didn’t even appear to have paper and pen.
A few moments passed as the tutor – Carl Watts, according to the course details in the Further Education Prospectus that had landed on her doormat the previous month – hooked his laptop up to the system and opened up PowerPoint and then, when he was sure that all was ready, clicked on to the first slide and cleared his throat. The murmuring diminished.
‘Good evening, everybody,’ he began. ‘My name is Carl Watts, and I will be your tutor on this course, which I’ve snappily titled “Building your Business from Scratch One Step at a Time”.’
He looked about the room proudly, as if he really believed that this was a snappy title, and Hope’s heart sank a little. If the tutor turned out to be an idiot, then she might have to have a rethink. She hoped this was his stab at a little ironic humour, although she feared that he really was as pleased with himself as he looked.
‘So, over the next thirty weeks, I shall be taking you through every element that you’ll need to master in order to make your business a success. And when we get to the end you should have a pretty cool business plan that you can take to the banks, or even venture capitalists, to get that all-important loan.’
Oh God. Maybe this was too basic a course, Hope thought. She knew next to nothing, her business only recently having got off the ground, but she wasn’t sure that she could stand being patronised by someone who had clearly only ever talked the talk.
‘Now, some of you may be wondering what qualifications I have to be teaching you about this stuff.’
Someone in front of her sniffed, and Hope wondered if they were also less than convinced about his credentials.
‘Well,’ Carl continued with the air of someone who had the winning hand in a game of poker, ‘I have an honours degree in economics and an MBA from University College London.’
Not quite the same as actually running your own business, though, is it? Hope thought. She supposed that if he did have any practical experience then he would be out there making money rather than teaching, although maybe his business had crashed in the recession and this was a stopgap. Either way, she wasn’t filled with confidence.
Still, she thought, he had to know more about it than she did. She pushed her doubts to the further reaches of her mind and prepared to concentrate.
There was a noise to her left, the classroom door opening and closing. Somebody was late. Hope didn’t bother turning to look, hoping that whoever it was would settle themselves quickly and with a minimum of fuss, but then someone spoke to her.
‘Sorry. Can you shift your stuff so I can sit down?’
There were plenty of other places free and not encumbered with obvious defence mechanisms such as her bag, so why had this person picked her to disturb? She turned to look at the woman and got as close to a snarl as she dared in a full room of people, hoping that that would be enough to put her off and send her scuttling to another desk. It was likely that wherever they sat tonight would end up being their places for the entire course, given what creatures of habit people were. She didn’t want to get stuck with someone for the entire thirty weeks.
But her less-than-welcoming expression made not a jot of difference. The woman just stood there, waiting for her to remove her things from the other chair and seeming oblivious to the vibes that she was radiating. If Hope had not been so irritated, she would have been impressed by her sheer front. People were turning in their seats to see why the newcomer wasn’t sitting down and so, reluctantly, Hope removed her bag and slotted it in at her feet. The woman threw her a grateful smile and sat down, but made no effort to get anything out to help with her studies. She just leant back in her chair and turned her attention to the front of the room.
