‘Penny, can you get some string and come down here? The wind’s picking up and we’ve lost a flamingo over the fence!’
I looked at Mum, waiting for an explanation, for her to remove the knife she’d just jabbed into my heart, but she just turned to the door, hurrying to fetch Dad some string. Over her shoulder she threw back a forcefully bright ‘We’ll talk later, okay, Tabby?’
But I didn’t want to talk later. I wanted to go back in time and not have to hear my own mother ask me if I was ‘sure’ about dumping my cheating boyfriend.
I left the room after her and, as I passed the picture on the landing, I looked at Aunt Lou’s smiling face and thought,you would never have asked me that. Because it was true. Lou would have made me a hot chocolate and told me I was better off and that Richard never deserved me. That there were plenty of fish in the sea. She’d have intervened before now to tell me she didn’t think he made me happy. And she’d have been right. She’d have sat up with me for as long as it took to pick apart his jumpers and re-ball the yarn to make something new out of. Something worthwhile.
I thought all of this as I rushed down the mint-chocolate-chip stairs, and out the front door to my car.
Chapter 14
My phone started togo off as I drove, but I ignored it. By the time I got back to the flat, I had seven texts and one missed call from Mum, plus two texts from Dad. I looked at the notifications in the lift and just felt exhausted. There was guilt too because I was aware that I was being childish. I’d just run away without telling them, never mind confronting Mum about what she’d said. But it was just too much, in the moment. I’d spent days agonising over what her reaction would be, but somehow it was worse than I’d imagined.
In the flat my first instinct was to ring Emma, but I only got as far as opening my contacts before thinking better of it. She’d done so much for me over the past few days. I couldn’t just keep dumping all my issues on her. That wasn’t fair. Besides which, she wasn’t just my friend but an employee. I was taking up enough of her time as it was.
Unfortunately, that didn’t really leave me with many options; my other oldest friend was Kate and she lived in Australia now, had done for years. Married, two kids, a nice, safe job. We didn’t have much in common any more and rarely spoke beyond sharing memes or birthday wishes. In the three years I’d been with Richard, I’d spent most of my time with him, his friends and their occasional girlfriends. Emma was the exception. She’d come into my life by chance and we’d hit it off. But, other than her, I hadn’t really been maintaining or making new friendships. Which was really biting me in the arse now that Richard was gone, leaving a gaping hole in my life.
What’s more, I now knew I couldn’t really talk to Mum about it.Are you sure?What kind of question was that? I kept thinking back and wondering if she’d somehow misinterpreted what I’d said, but I’d been pretty clear. There weren’t many ways to interpret ‘I caught him cheating on me.’ Had she meant ‘are you sure that’s what you saw?’ but surely she knew I wouldn’t just throw away three years on an assumption.
I put the kettle on and took a deep breath before opening Mum’s texts.
Tabby? Are you coming down?
Do you need anything? – Dad has stop-poos in the medicine cabinet.
I scoffed. So she’d assumed I was trapped in the bathroom or something. No sense at all that it was what she’d said to me that was the issue. I scrolled down.
Just saw your car’s gone. Hope you’re okay.
Mary said to tell you your dessert is lovely – big hit here!
Her denial was brittle, even in text form. As if as long as she kept talking as if things were fine, they would be. Mum wasn’t good at conflict, never had been. She liked to either pretend it wasn’t happening or just ignore the upset until it was over. I couldn’t count the number of times she’d left me to ‘cry it out’ in my room as a teenager when all I wanted was a cup of tea and a chat.
I’ve washed your dish up and I’ll keep it till you next pop round
Or I can drop it off to the flat if you need it sooner?
And, finally, a slightly desperate littlehow are things going at the shop?
Dad’s texts were more direct:Sorry you had to goandlove the Eton mess!
I put my phone down. No way was I dealing with that right now. I’d just end up getting myself worked up and more upset. Like always, I’d just leave it a few days and pretend it never happened, let things go back to normal.
The kettle clicked off and I raided the cupboard for some hazelnut hot chocolate. Once I had a foamy mug prepared, with cookies on the side, I retreated to the spare bedroom. On the bed, with the duvet tucked over my legs, I pulled out a few craft books and went through some of the projects I’d dog-eared. I needed a distraction and, if it was one that made me feel closer to Lou, then that was all the better. I wanted her with me so badly that my eyes were prickling.
I was skimming over hats and gloves when I flicked a page over and found some chunky-knit hand warmers staring up at me. It was a simple pattern, similar to some cup cosies I’d made before. Acrylic chunky yarn in any colour you’d like, then front and back post double crochet to create a textured finish. Unbidden, the memory of Cooper’s cold fingers against mine made my right hand twitch.
I raided the plastic boxes of yarn under the bed in the other room and returned with a half-ball in bottle green with orange and brown flecks. It sort of reminded me of the leaf-strewn surface of the canal, and a strong chest against my back as I was towed across it. With a hook in my hand and a podcast on my phone, I got stuck in.
It was easy to lose myself in the simple stitches, each one so distinct I didn’t have to worry about keeping count. The yarn was soft and comforting between my fingers and the rhythm of the hook as I worked the stitches was automatic and easy. The chunky yarn worked up fast and, before too long, I’d finished the first hand warmer and my hot chocolate. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t had any dinner. I’d only had a light lunch, saving myself for the barbecue spread.
In the kitchen I realised I needed to get some shopping in. I’d been sort of drifting since the break-up, forgetting about the normal flow of life – supermarket shop on a Friday night, clean the bathroom Sunday, change the bedding every other Saturday. The flat still looked sterile and clean but, upon closer inspection, I could see the tumbleweeds of fluff in the corners and the fingerprints on the gleaming glass and white countertops.
As much as I didn’t owe it to Richard to keep up my routine, neither did I want to live in a dirty flat. I got out the polish and cloth and then found the broom to sweep the floor before mopping. We had one of those robot vacuum cleaners but I didn’t like the thought of tripping over it, so it only got turned on when Richard remembered to do it.
While I cleaned, I couldn’t help but think about Mum’s reaction to the news about the break-up again. Her disappointment had been clear, as was the fact that I was the cause of it. I was twenty-seven, and three years into a serious relationship. At my age, Mum had already had me and I was five. I knew she was worried I was leaving it too late, that she wasn’t going to get to be a grandmother while still ‘young enough to enjoy her grandkids’. Maybe she was starting to stress that it just wasn’t going to happen at all. After all, she’d only been able to have the one kid and she started fairly young – what if I was already past that point and unable to have any?
On the one hand I understood her fears. Some of them were mirrors of my own. I had been concerned that it had been three years and Richard still hadn’t even mentioned proposing. Worried I was approaching my thirties and still childless with no clear plan in place for starting a family. I could see where Mum was coming from. But, at the same time, why were her hypothetical grandchildren worth more concern than me, her own daughter? I was the one hurting right now, the one who’d been cheated on. Sometimes it just felt like my kids mattered more than me already, and they weren’t even born yet.
