Happily Never After, page 3
‘Do you think we’re going too fast?’ he asked.
‘No. I may “only” be twenty, as Mum said, but I’m old enough to know my own mind, and to know that I love you. What would be the point of waiting?’
‘I love you too,’ he replied. ‘And, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. It might be a good idea to see a bit less of your parents for a while though. Let them get used to the idea that you’re with me now.’
Claire wasn’t sure she liked that plan; she’d always been very close to her mum and dad, but she could see the logic in what he was saying. Maybe seeing less of them would help them to realise that she was grown-up and her own person.
‘You’re right,’ she said as she put the mug down in front of him and squeezed his shoulder affectionately. ‘It’s you and me now.’
He smiled. ‘You and me. I like the sound of that.’
I exhale loudly and rub my eyes. Although this scene is broadly going in the direction I intended, I’ve just realised that Claire hasn’t said anything to Darren about her dream of joining the police, which is kind of central to the plot. I’m scrolling back through the text in frustration, trying to work out where to drop this nugget of information, when a notification pops up on screen to tell me that I have a new email. It’s from Ruby, who runs the bookshop that Liv thinks I waste too much time in. To be fair, she’s probably right. Ruby is just as passionate about her business as Liv and stocks a wide range of books, including mine. If that wasn’t enough, the in-store coffee bar run by her business partner, Jono, serves coffee that’s every bit as tasty as Liv’s, although I obviously wouldn’t ever tell her that. And then there’s Samson, the shop cat. Huge, handsome and ginger, he’s almost as much of a town celebrity as the Anthony Gormley sculpture on the shore. He has his own chair in the shop, and people have been known to call in just to take selfies with him. It’s the kind of place you think you’ll just pop into for a minute or two, only to emerge an hour later wondering where the time went. I open the mail to read the text.
Hi Laura,
Just to let you know I ordered another twenty copies of Dying to Meet You by someone called Larry Spalding as I’d sold out, and they arrived this morning. If you get the opportunity to pop in and sign them, I’d be grateful. There might even be a free coffee in it…
Love
Ruby
I smile. Although the number of my books she sells is tiny in the overall scheme of things, Ruby has been a tireless promoter of them ever since I admitted to being the author.
It was the publisher that eventually signed me (after around twenty others had turned me down) who suggested I used a male nom-de-plume. Their view was that the gritty crime novel I had submitted would mainly appeal to a male audience but, where female readers tended not to be bothered by the gender of the writer, men tended to favour books by other men. My agent agreed, so we spent time creating social media profiles for my alter ego, ‘Larry’, so we could keep my true identity under wraps. I was a little reluctant to begin with, as I’d always wanted to see my name on the cover of a book, but she pointed out that I was hardly the first woman to write as a man. I eventually relented, and that’s who I’ve been as an author ever since.
It’s a beautiful day outside, so I decide to follow up on Ruby’s email now, while I’m distracted. Meg is on her feet as soon as I push my chair back.
‘No,’ I tell her firmly. ‘You’ve had a walk today, and I’m going to the bookshop. I’m not taking you, because you and Samson are a bloody nightmare together.’
Sure enough, just the mention of her nemesis is enough to elicit a low growl from Meg. Ruby had initially assured me that bringing Meg into the bookshop on a lead would be fine as Samson was very chilled. Like all dogs, she seems to have chasing cats hard wired into her DNA but, unfortunately for her, Samson isn’t like other cats. Not only did he not give her the satisfaction of running away as she strained at the lead to try to get to him, but her barking and carrying on annoyed him to the point where he swiped at her, taking a chunk out of her nose that necessitated a trip to the vet to be checked over. After a couple more attempts with similarly disastrous results, Ruby and I agreed that they probably wouldn’t be friends, and I’ve left Meg at home ever since.
‘Goodness, that was quick,’ Ruby remarks with a smile as I stroll through the door of her shop a little while later. ‘I only emailed you half an hour ago.’
‘You caught me at a good moment,’ I tell her as Samson studies me with his large, almost luminous eyes before launching into one of those grooming sessions that make it perfectly clear he has no interest in talking to me today.
‘Don’t be offended,’ Ruby explains. ‘He’s had a busy day with the selfie-takers, so I think he’s all peopled out. Do you want a coffee?’
‘Love one, thanks.’
Before she has a chance to call the order across to Jono, a baby monitor on the counter bursts into life.
‘Someone else obviously wants to see you too.’ Ruby laughs as Jono pulls a bottle with a teat out of the fridge and puts it into the microwave to warm before turning his attention to my coffee. ‘Hang on, I’ll just go and get him.’
She disappears into the back room, emerging a few moments later with a bleary-eyed baby sucking on a bright red dummy.
‘Look who’s here, Tom,’ she coos as the baby fixes his gaze on me. ‘It’s Auntie Laura, come to sign her latest batch of books.’ She turns to me. ‘Do you want a cuddle before he gets too wriggly?’
‘Of course,’ I tell her with a smile, taking Tom off her and planting a kiss on his head. He has that characteristic baby smell – slightly milky with an undercurrent of baby wipe. I notice that Samson has stopped grooming himself and is watching intently from his chair as Jono brings the bottle of milk over, swirling it to ensure the contents are evenly warm.
‘Fleabag over there is fascinated by Tom,’ he informs me as Tom starts trying to reach for the bottle.
‘He’s not a fleabag,’ Ruby tells him sternly before turning to me. ‘Would you like to feed him, as you’ve got him already?’
‘Sure.’
‘Take a seat then,’ Jono says. ‘If you’re lucky, he’ll hold it himself, although you need to keep an eye on him as he’s prone to dropping it, and then Fleabag will be on it like a shot.’
‘Listen to you,’ Ruby teases him, ignoring the repeated barb as Jono hands me a muslin cloth. ‘Surrogate dad of the year.’
Jono smiles. ‘It’s all good practice for when Robbie and I adopt.’
‘I didn’t know you were planning to adopt,’ I remark as I settle myself in a vacant chair and Jono places my coffee on the table next to it, making sure it’s well out of reach of grabbing baby hands. One of the many things I love about this shop is the way the different-sized tables and chairs are dotted about, allowing customers to be social if they wish, but also simply enjoy coffee and a book on their own if they want.
‘We’re going through the process, but it’s a nightmare,’ he explains, rolling his eyes dramatically. ‘I mean, it’s no surprise there’s a shortage of adoptive parents when they make it so difficult. You’d be forgiven for thinking that our beautiful home has become some kind of meeting place for social workers, the number of them that traipse in and out.’ I drape the muslin around Tom’s neck. No sooner is the bottle within reach than he grabs it with both hands, beginning to suck greedily as soon as the teat is in his mouth. Ruby and Jono are swiftly distracted by other customers, so I relax and enjoy the warm solidity of Tom’s little body against mine as he drinks. When the bottle is finished, I sit him up to burp him, after which he promptly falls back to sleep in my arms.
‘You’re a natural,’ Ruby remarks as she comes to relieve me a little while later. ‘I reckon you’ll take to it like a duck to water when your time comes.’
I know she means it innocently, but her remark triggers an odd wave of longing inside me, reminding me of the joke Angus made about Meg being a precursor to us having children ourselves. I can see the similarities; like a baby, she needed to be supervised constantly when she was awake, and we got precious little sleep as she howled the place down at night. I remember how we congratulated ourselves on our superb puppy parenting when we realised she hadn’t had an accident in the house for over a week. Angus was incredibly patient with her, consistently repeating the training exercises and rewarding her when she got them right. It’s not surprising that she adored him; he was the perfect hands-on dad, and I’ll admit that I used to entertain regular fantasies of him being just as involved with our children when the time came.
‘Sorry, that was crass of me,’ Ruby remarks, evidently clocking the expression on my face. ‘Still no word, I take it?’
‘To be honest, I’m not expecting to hear from him now,’ I tell her. ‘Time to move on. Liv has invited me to live with her and I’ve said yes.’
‘Really?’ She sounds dubious. Although they are perfectly civil to one another when they meet, I’m not sure Ruby and Liv are destined to be friends. In fact, Ruby’s husband, Cameron, once confessed to me in an unguarded moment that Ruby found Liv ‘a bit much sometimes’. It’s not an entirely unfair assessment; Liv can come across as pretty full-on if you’re not used to her.
‘I think it’ll be good for me,’ I tell her. ‘Everything in the flat reminds me of Angus, so this will be an opportunity to put him behind me once and for all. And, if anyone is going to help me purge his ghost, it’s Liv.’
Ruby laughs. ‘That’s certainly true. I don’t imagine she’ll put up with any moping, for a start. You’re right; she’ll probably be good for you. Now, I’ve got a pile of books in the stock room waiting for Larry’s signature when you’re ready.’
As I reluctantly hand back a still-sleeping Tom and pick up my coffee to follow her towards the back of the shop, I reflect on our conversation. I know I keep telling myself this, but it really is time to let Angus go, and Ruby is right. Liv may be a force of nature, but that makes her exactly the person I need to help me do it.
4
‘You’re totally, 100 per cent sure about this?’ Liv asks. Meg and I moved in with her yesterday and we’re sitting in her kitchen with an open bottle of wine between us while something delicious-smelling cooks in the oven.
‘I am,’ I tell her.
‘OK. Hand me your phone.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Erase Angus from it. I’m going to start by deleting his number and all the text messages between you. Then I’m going to wipe him off all your social media. Have you updated your relationship status?’
‘No.’
‘Right. I’ll do that too. We need the world to know that Laura Spalding is open for business.’
‘That doesn’t sound right, somehow.’
‘You know what I mean. The easiest way to forget the old horse is to jump on a new one, but we’ll look at that once I’ve de-Angused you. Phone, please.’
‘I’m not planning to jump on any new horses,’ I tell her firmly as I slide the phone across the table.
‘You say that now, but give it a bit of time. The good news is that I’m a pro on the apps, so I’ll help you put together an absolute knockout profile when the time comes. What’s the unlock code?’
‘Two-five-oh-eight. It’s Angus’s birthday.’
‘That’s the first thing we’re going to change then,’ she tells me as she prods the screen a few times. ‘Right. What do you want your new code to be?’
‘Umm, I don’t know. Isn’t it safer to leave that alone? What if I forget my new code and can’t get into my phone?’
‘You’ve got fingerprint ID set up, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, but it still wants the code sometimes.’
‘Fine. I’m going to set it to my birthday. If you forget that, you’re in big trouble.’
Fifteen minutes later, all trace of Angus has been wiped from my phone. Liv has unfriended us on Facebook, updated my relationship status to single and unfollowed him elsewhere. She’s now brought up my list of contacts and her finger is hovering over his name.
‘Don’t delete that,’ I tell her. ‘I might need to contact him to let him know if something happens to Meg. He dotes on her.’
‘Hmm.’
‘What?’
‘He abandoned her as well, didn’t he? I’m not sure he has the right to know her business any more than he does yours. What do you think, Meg?’
At the mention of her name, Meg looks up from her basket and thumps her tail a couple of times.
‘See? She agrees with me,’ Liv states firmly. ‘Shall we delete and block the horrid man from Laura’s phone, Meg?’
Another tail wag.
‘Looks like you’re outvoted,’ she tells me with a smile as she fiddles with the phone some more. ‘Now, what about the pictures?’
‘I’d like to keep them. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be mooning over him, but he was part of my life for ten years and I’ll lose all of that if you get rid of them.’
‘Fair enough. We definitely need to change the lock screen one though. Meg, show us your best side.’
Liv advances on the dog, snapping several shots on the phone as she does. ‘That one, I think,’ she declares after reviewing them. ‘Right, here you go. All ready for your new life. Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll get some dating apps installed.’
‘Like I said, I think that will be a while. I’ve been with Angus for so long that the idea of meeting someone new terrifies me.’
‘Oh, you’ll be fine. Men are simple creatures and they all broadly work the same way. You just have to treat them like puppies in the bedroom to begin with.’
‘I’m sorry?’
She smiles. ‘House training.’
‘Umm, I’m not expecting them to pee on the carpet, Liv.’
‘OK, maybe it’s not the best analogy. What was Angus like as a lover, if you don’t mind me asking?’
I can feel myself blushing a little. I don’t think I’m prudish where sex is concerned, but Liv has sampled so much of the sexual smorgasbord that she always makes me feel a little inadequate when the subject comes up.
‘He was all right,’ I say carefully. ‘Why?’
‘All right? Talk about damning with faint praise. I take it the big O wasn’t a regular visitor then?’
‘Liv, are you seriously asking me about my orgasm history here?’
‘Yes,’ Liv says robustly. ‘This stuff matters. Take a mouthful of wine if you’re feeling uncomfortable. I’ll go first, if it helps. Trevor may have been a dirty bastard, but at least he knew his way around female anatomy. Do you remember Giles?’
‘Umm, vaguely. Was he the one before Sarah?’
‘That’s him. Utterly clueless. He’d honestly stand more chance of finding a cure for cancer than my clitoris. Women are, unsurprisingly, much better in that department.’
‘That makes sense, I guess.’
‘So, Angus?’
‘He didn’t rock my world in the bedroom, if I’m honest. I mean, it was OK. Nice, even. Sometimes it was purely functional, but that’s normal, isn’t it? To be fair to him, I’m not sure I’m an orgasmic sort of person. Some people just aren’t, are they?’
‘I’ve never heard so much nonsense in all my life!’ she exclaims crossly. ‘There are countless studies out there that show that the female orgasm need be no more elusive than the male one. You just need to be relaxed, understand your body and know how to communicate your needs. Have you read Don’t Hold My Head Down by Lucy-Anne Holmes?’
‘No.’
‘OK, that’s your first bit of homework. I’ve got a copy somewhere; I’ll dig it out for you. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to try dating a woman for a different perspective? I can thoroughly recommend it.’
‘Thanks, but no. You might be pretty much in the middle of the sexuality spectrum, but I’m afraid I’m fairly hardwired to fancy men.’
‘Fair enough. What about self-pleasure?’
‘Liv!’
‘What? How are you supposed to be able to tell someone else what floats your boat if you’ve never put it in the water yourself?’
Even by her standards, this conversation is direct, and I can feel myself blushing furiously. To make matters worse, Liv is obviously enjoying my discomfort as she laughs uproariously.
‘Let me get this straight,’ she says once she’s caught her breath. ‘Laura Spalding spends happy hours writing brutal murders where she describes the patterns of arterial spray almost lovingly, but is afraid of her own vagina?’
‘I’m not afraid of it! I just don’t want to talk to you about it. Can we drop this now?’
This only serves to set her off again.
‘Oh, honey,’ she breathes eventually. ‘Living with you is going to be even more fun than I imagined.’
‘How are you, darling?’ my mother’s voice asks down the phone a couple of days later. I can’t help noticing that it has that tentative ‘I want to show I care about you but please don’t burst into tears as I’m not sure I know how to handle that’ tone which she’s used fairly consistently since Angus left. To be fair, I did spend quite a lot of time bursting into tears in the early days, both on the phone and when I visited them, so I can’t really blame her.
‘OK, actually,’ I tell her, making my own voice super-bright to try to reassure her. ‘Moving in with Liv was the right choice, I think.’
‘And how is Olivia?’ Now that she’s reassured herself that I’m not about to dissolve into a soggy mess, her tone has shifted to the slight air of disapproval she always has when Liv is mentioned. To be fair to her, I know she also finds Liv ‘a bit much’, and Liv’s ever-shifting sexuality evidently baffles her.
‘She’s good,’ I reply. ‘And Meg absolutely adores her.’
‘I hope she isn’t teaching that dog bad habits,’ Mum says sternly. ‘Angus worked so hard to bring her up well, and it would be a shame for all of that to be undone.’ Mum and Dad have had dogs for as long as I can remember, and they’ve always been rigorously trained. I glance over at the sofa where Meg is happily curled up next to Liv and thank my lucky stars this isn’t a video call.
