It was as if the anguish and hurt she felt on account of Edd had reawakened her grief at losing Bill. Her head was a jumble of facts and dark imaginings; the deep pain of rejection she’d felt at Bill’s infidelity had been soothed by Edd, who had made everything feel better, but now it was more agonising still because he too had let her down. And so it went, a desperate, endless cycle of sadness, within which she could see no light.
Meg crept from her room and halted in the hallway, standing on the slightly sticky marble floor; the stickiness was partly her own fault – she could afford to be a bit more liberal with the mop – and partly down to Lucas, who tended to swing his cup and spray the area with juice. She pictured his face and smiled; he really was her greatest achievement. She was certain that at that precise moment he would be enjoying the mid-morning sunshine on a beach, with Milly, Pru and Christopher dancing attendance.
She swooped down to collect one of his stray socks from the floor. There was something about his little socks and the feet that went into them that always sent a jolt of love right through her. ‘Oh, Lucas.’ She sighed, thinking of him and trying not to jump ahead to Christmas, a Christmas that her baby would spend over four thousand miles away from her. It wasn’t anything like what she had planned.
Meg was, as ever, extremely grateful to the Plum cousins for scooping him up and giving him this amazing adventure. She thought back to the time soon after Lucas was born. She was still in deep mourning for Bill, but Milly and Pru had insisted that she go out at least once a week, even if it was only for a walk; anything to get her out of the flat. She had been reluctant at first, preferring to spend her nights tucked up on the sofa with her son asleep in the adjoining room. But Milly had been adamant – what had she said?
‘You’re in your twenties, not your eighties. You need to go out, make a life and have a life. I can assure you, Meg, the way to meet a man and move on is not to sit in your pyjamas watching
Corrie
. Brad or Leonardo ain’t going to come and knock on your door during the break and see if you fancy sharing a bag of chips. You have to go out into the big, wide, scary world!’
Meg sighed; she had given things a go with Piers and had been prepared to jump for Edd. But that was enough trying now. She would simply go back to her nights on the sofa. That way she wouldn’t suffer further upset or inflict upset on others. Much better. As long as Lucas was happy, she didn’t need no Brad or Leonardo.
Meg studied the coconut welcome mat with its pink and red floral pattern, blobs of mud, tangles of hair and three toy cars lined up on it as if parked. On close inspection it was quite disgusting. She decided that over the next few days she would get on with all the household chores so that when her boy came back the place would be sparkling. She would tackle the hall floor and she would finally get round to scrubbing the stained laminate of her spice shelf, which had got surprisingly grubby. She would sort Lucas’s playdough into single colours from the multi-coloured lump that it had become and pop it back neatly into its various tubs. She’d clean the windows and wash and iron all the bed linen. It would be good for her and would fill the waking hours while she was alone.
Her phone buzzed on the hall table. She flipped it open to see the first lines of twenty text messages, all from Edd. One swipe of her fingertip and they were deleted. Easy.
Meg flicked the switch on the kettle. In her experience most things, from a hangover to a busy workload, could be eased if not cured with several cups of Earl Grey. Today though, even the fragrant brew could do little to lift her spirits.
With several productive hours still left in the day, she showered and did what she always did when times got tough. She went to work.
Guy did a double-take as she came in the back door from the hallway that led to the bakery, abandoning the order he was writing. ‘Meg! What are you doing?’
‘I’m coming to work, Guy.’ She ran her palms over her Plum apron and black skirt. ‘I hope you need a waitress until closing time, because what I need is to ferry cakes and teacups up and down the stairs without having time to think. Is that okay?’
‘Of course. But I meant, what are you doing
here
? I thought you were in New York – what happened?’ He shook his head, perplexed.
Meg felt her shoulders sag. She knew this was only the first of many times she would have to repeat the story and her heart sank at the prospect. It was humiliating, having to admit that she had got it so wrong.
‘I was, but it didn’t exactly work out how I’d planned.’ She paused.
‘What happened?’
‘I went to his apartment…’ Meg pictured herself hovering eagerly on the pavement with the cufflinks in her hand. ‘And a girl was there – his girlfriend, to be precise.’ She looked up as Guy tutted loudly in horror and flung his fingers over his open mouth.
‘Non!’ he gasped.
‘Yes,’ she countered. ‘I pretty much just spent an hour or two at Plum’s Bleecker Street launch party and then waited at the airport for a flight back. It was bloody pointless, tiring and expensive. I feel sick.’
Guy fluttered his palm around his face as though trying to alleviate a hot flush. ‘Oh, mon Dieu. I don’t believe it. Are you sure she was his girlfriend? Maybe she just said that…’
Meg shook her head. ‘No, he confirmed it, Guy; didn’t deny anything. He even shared a bed with her while I was back here. I’m such a mug.’ She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
‘You are not a mug. He is a fool, letting you slip through his fingers. And he clearly isn’t worth getting upset over. You need to find a nice English boy who is close enough for us all to check out.’
Meg twitched her nose and thought of Piers, whom they had indeed all checked out and whom she hadn’t loved, not even a little bit. ‘I don’t think I want any boy at the moment, English or otherwise. I’m going to concentrate on Lucas for a while; I feel I’ve neglected him a bit recently.’
‘Rubbish. Lucas is fine and taking a week or so for yourself is no crime. Look how much you have missed him – it’s good for you both.’
He made her feel better, he always did.
‘Okay!’ Guy clapped his hands together and made her jump. ‘To work! Put this sign out the front, we have a few afternoon tea specials.’ He pointed to Curzon Street.
Meg rolled her eyes. ‘Oh God, I had forgotten how bossy you are to work for!’
‘You see, a few years of management and you have gone soft.’ Guy winked at her as he skipped down the stairs to the kitchen.
Meg lifted the side of the heavy A-board and slipped the poster into it, before repositioning it and placing it on the edge of the pavement. She ran her hand over the top and pictured the day she had turned up here all those years ago. How had Guy put it?
‘All beated up, pregnant and grubby.’
He was right.
Turning back towards the shop, her eye caught the cake in the display window. Dimitri and Anna, she had quite forgotten them. She walked over to where they whirled and skated. Placing her hands against the cold glass, she felt her tears gather. ‘I knew it was too good to be true and I told him so. He denied it of course. But deep down I knew: no one can be that perfect, not even you two. But I was so happy. I’ve never been that happy.’
‘And you will be again, chérie.’
She hadn’t heard Guy follow her out. He pulled her towards him and gripped her in a hug while she cried.
‘Of course, you could always jump on a plane to Barbados. Maybe that would make you feel better, a week in the sun?’
Meg shook her head against his chest. ‘No, I thought about it, but I don’t want to tell Milly and Pru just yet. I’m going to sit here with my sadness and get it out of my system and when they come back I will have come out the other side. I will never have to mention or hear his name again and we shall have the Christmas we deserve, albeit a little later than billed.’
‘That sounds like a plan.’ He nodded.
‘I’ll be fine here, Guy; it’s only a week or so. I’m going to work, catch up on paperwork, clean the flat and shut myself away from the world.’
‘Or you could come to France with me? Make out to my mother you are my girlfriend, stop her nagging me about settling down and making her a grandmère!’ He shrugged his shoulders theatrically, then placed his hand on his hip.
His admission made her laugh, despite her tears. ‘Do you think she’d fall for that, Guy?’
‘Yes, of course. I can be very masculine when I try!’ He pouted. ‘Plus mothers only see what they want to see.’
‘Ain’t that the truth.’ Meg thought of the Plaza and Brenda’s words, uttered through her scone-filled mouth:
‘He’s a special man.’
Special, my arse
, thought Meg.
At the end of a long day that had seen her deliver twenty pots of tea, nineteen coffees, thirty assorted cakes and numerous platters of everything from eggs Benedict to croque-monsieur, Meg was shattered. Emotional and physical tiredness seeped from every pore. Her feet throbbed and her back ached. She rubbed at her eyes and pulled her ponytail loose from its band. A hot bath and an early night beckoned and even the thought of her soft pillow and warm duvet was enough to make her smile.
She plodded up the stairs at a snail’s pace, hoping she had the energy to reach the top, wondering if she might stop for a nap on the first twist of landing. The doorbell to their apartments rang. She sighed and turned, looking at the four steps she had climbed as though they were a mountain she now had to descend. Then she heard the voices: carol singers. They started singing ‘Oh, Come, All Ye Faithful’. It was sweetly sung and achingly beautiful and it rang out down the street. Meg sank down onto the step and started to cry. It was as if the dam had been lifted on a river of distress. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
Meg shifted to get comfortable on the sofa as the pixelated image sharpened on the screen. There they all were, against a backdrop of azure blue. It looked stunning and she felt warmed simply to see them. Their relaxed demeanour, make-up-free smiles and sun-kissed shoulders told her they were in full Caribbean mode. Pru held an ice-filled glass of something sparkling in her hand. Clad in a vibrant hot pink sarong, she looked beautiful, stylish as ever. Even Christopher had made a concession to the weather and was wearing a polo shirt with the collar open! Milly was in a T-shirt, but with a pirate eye patch nestling on her forehead and a bandana over her hair; clearly there was no let-up in the great pirate adventure that she and Lucas had embarked upon a while ago. And at the front of the group, with a toothy grin and an enlarged hand waving very close to the camera, was Lucas. He had caught the sun already; freckles peppered his nose.
‘Hey!’ Meg swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Look at you all! Hey, Lucas! It’s so good to see you, little man.’
‘Look what I’ve got!’ He held a bucket up in front of the laptop camera and tipped it to reveal an impressive array of shells.
‘Wow! They look awesome. Are you having a great time?’
Lucas nodded. ‘I went on a water slide that was higher than our roof!’ He stretched up as far as he could with his arm. ‘And I did it twice and Christopher nearly got stuck and I went on a boat and I caught a fish and I was going to bring it home to live with Thomas but it died and we threw it back in the sea. But I’m going to try and get another one today if I go on the boat.’
‘Oh my goodness, you’ve been so busy. The water slide sounds a bit scary, but amazing.’
It all sounds amazing and I am here without you, and it’s my own stupid, stupid fault.
‘Are you looking after Milly and Pru for me?’ She smiled.
Again Lucas nodded enthusiastically.
‘Well, that’s good. I miss you, Lucas, and I can’t wait to see you and hear all about your adventures.’ She tried to keep the quiver from her voice.
Lucas took a deep breath. ‘Tomorrow I am going to a waterfall and then we are going to have a day by the swimming pool because Christopher is knackered.’
Meg roared with laughter at hearing the word so clearly uttered. She could imagine Christopher using it all too regularly as he was dragged from one adventure to another.
‘I’m fine really.’ Christopher coughed. ‘The little chap’s having a ball.’
‘I can see that, Chris, and how kind of you to try and bring more pets home! That’s just what we could do with – a great big fish to live with Thomas the terrapin!’ She gave a double thumbs-up.
Lucas disappeared from view as Milly leant closer to the microphone. ‘Shouldn’t worry, love, they don’t last five minutes. Lucas has caught two, but then he takes them out of the water to check on them, have a little chat with them – boy to fish, that kind of thing – and surprise, surprise, they aren’t too fond of it!’ She grimaced.
‘How’s New York?’ Pru asked.
Meg sat forward so her face filled the screen and obscured the background. She smiled. ‘I’m fine! Yes, fine.’ It wasn’t exactly a lie, more an evasion of the facts. She didn’t want to spoil their holiday or cause them to worry. Lying through omission…
‘Did you get to the launch party at Bleecker Street? Or were you otherwise occupied?’ Milly smiled.
‘No, I went, of course, and it was great.’ She was happy to give the details: she had been there, no lie this time. ‘Juno and the team have done a really good job. The café looks incredible and it was packed to the gunnels. There was a decent turn-out from journalists and the local press and I heard nothing but good things. The patisserie went down a storm.’
I heard good things, apart from what came out of Edd’s mouth: an honest account of his life with his girlfriend that ripped me in two, leaving me stunned, shattered.
‘I have the review from
The
Villager
, would you like me to read it to you?’ she asked.
‘Ooh, yes, read away!’ Milly and Pru drew themselves even nearer to the screen so they could hear better.
Meg held the article that she had printed off from Juno’s email and coughed to clear her throat. ‘“Make a stop at Plum Patisserie, our very own slice of Paris in New York! Sumptuous, moist, mouthwatering patisserie and authentic artisan loaves are served by smiling, knowledgeable staff that sure know a thing or two about baking. And with the Bleecker Street breakfast special of two giant croissants, a flat white coffee and pots of confiture d’abricots and organic honey for dipping, why wouldn’t you make it part of your morning routine? I know I will be. Five stars.”’