Home Truths (13 page)

‘Hi Penny,’ Juliette said casually, whilst taking the order of another customer. Penny nodded without checking if Juliette had seen. She didn't go to the counter where Gloria was already preparing her a taster of that week's special flavour but when Penny realized that someone sat at her table – a mother and toddler – she felt so discombobulated as to be tempted to walk straight out of the shop.

‘Penny,’ said Juliette kindly, guiding her to a table with no fuss. She came back a few minutes later with a pink plastic
taster spoon, mounded high. ‘It's a new flavour,’ she told Penny. ‘It's called Sing for Spring. It's pistachio and meringue – boss says it symbolizes the spring pasture peeping through the snow fields.’

Penny sucked the glob off the spoon. ‘I'll have a banana split, thanks,’ she said flatly.

‘Banana split for Penny,’ Juliette called and Penny detected excessive jollity and loud kindness in the girl's usually soft voice. Simultaneously, Penny felt her eyes smart and her toes curl.

‘It's April Fool's Day,’ Penny told her with a shrug. ‘In Britain everyone plays pranks – practical or intellectual.’

‘I knew it,’ said Penny, triumphant. ‘I says to Gloria, that Penny's not from around here. You're English? How cool is that?’

‘A long time ago,’ Penny confirmed.

‘I'm sorry – I interrupted. You were saying about playing tricks?’

‘I made an April Fool of Bob one year,’ Penny shrugged. ‘He took it well – but I know he was a little upset. I never said sorry for it.’

Juliette wasn't quite sure what to say. ‘Bob won't have taken anything by that,’ she mumbled.

‘That stupid movie
Love Story
got it wrong,’ Penny frowned. ‘Love means you
must
say You're sorry. I never said,
Sorry Bob – that wasn't funny and I apologize
. I've been saying it over and over today. But It's too late.’

Juliette hovered. Penny had barely established eye contact with her this visit. Juliette glanced over at Gloria who used her eyebrows and vigorous tilting of her head to signify for her to sit down. She slid into the chair next to Penny. ‘My dad used to tell me I was a fool the whole time – he didn't need April 1st,’ she told Penny. ‘He used to tell my mom she was a fool as well. Actually, he didn't use that word. He called us dumb. Dumb-ass bitches.’

Penny jerked and locked eyes with Juliette.

‘When he said sorry, he never meant it so I stopped believing him quick,’ Juliette said with a shrug. ‘He'd even try tears, get down on his knees and holler that he was sorry. He was a better actor than Ryan O'Neal, I'll say that. It's a crap film anyway.’

‘I left my husband on April Fool's Day,’ Penny suddenly interrupted in a hoarse whisper. Juliette's eyes darted in confusion. ‘Not Bob,’ Penny hastened to add. ‘I left this other man for Bob. I left this other man for Bob thirty-three years ago today.’ She tucked into her banana split that was on the verge of being renamed banana spilt. ‘I'm sorry,’ she said to Juliette, ‘I interrupted you. It's just I never told a soul about this until right now.’

Two weeks later, when Penny caught sight of Juliette at the Pack'n'Save, a world away from Fountains Ices, she wasn't sure what to do but she didn't think she wanted to be recognized. Fountains had become a sacred space for her, her visits there sacrosanct. She liked the anonymity, the sense of sharing but of confidentiality. She'd come to feel that it was as close to a support group as she would ever come by. And it was a comforting thought that wherever she was, whatever the time, the candy-coloured parlour where everything was sweet and pretty, existed. So, it didn't seem right to see Juliette in Pack'n'Save. But Juliette was apparently pleased to see Penny there as She'd made her way over, an older woman with her.

‘Hi Penny.’

‘Hi Juliette.’

‘This is my mom, Cyn.’

‘Hi Cyn.’

‘Hi Penny.’

‘You shopping?’

‘I am. You too?’

‘We are. My aunt's coming to stay.’

‘That's nice.’

‘Honey, I'm going to pick up some soda.’

‘OK Mom, I'll be right there.’

Penny and Cyn nodded at each other, smiled cordially. Penny thought about the woman's deceased husband calling her a dumb-assed bitch. It chilled her. ‘Well, you have a nice weekend,’ Penny told Juliette.

‘Thank you,’ Juliette said, ‘and you. You doing something?’

‘Not especially,’ Penny said.

‘Oh. Oh. Well, see you next week, I guess.’

‘Yes,’ said Penny, ‘goodbye.’

But Juliette loitered. ‘Bob sure was special,’ she said to Penny. ‘I mean – for you to up sticks and leave like that. Your home, your country. When you were so young.’

Penny was taken aback. She couldn't possibly comment.

Juliette tipped her head to one side and regarded Penny. ‘I know you can come across a little frosty and all,’ she said with kindness, ‘but I say It's a shame you never had kids of your own. You'd've been a good mom.’

Penny was so stunned she hadn't the self-possession not to let it show, scrambling around for her composure whilst scrabbling for something to say. However, her feelings of disarray obviously didn't offend Juliette who smiled sweetly and made to go.

‘Don't you go thinking you and your mom aren't special just because your daddy didn't say so,’ Penny suddenly said.

Juliette was visibly touched. ‘See you next week, Penny,’ she said.

‘Actually, I won't be here next week,’ Penny heard herself telling Juliette though she knew the thought was unformulated.

‘Oh?’

‘No. No. I'm going to be in England,’ Penny told her, ‘I haven't seen my family in many many years.’

Juliette smiled and placed her hand warmly on Penny's arm. ‘You do that,’ she enthused, ‘you do just that.’

My Round

Predictably, it had been Pip's idea to encourage the menfolk to meet.

‘You always say what a good bloke you think Ben is,’ she said casually to Zac as they dressed for work: Pip braiding her hair tightly into pigtails and securing them both ends with polka-dot ribbons, Zac donning a sober navy blue suit enlivened by a Paul Smith tie emblazoned on the underside with a 1950s pin-up girl. ‘You should get together more often with him and Matt. You're brothers-in-law.’

‘That's stretching it,’ Zac laughed, peering over Pip's head to check his reflection in the mirror.

She twisted around and looked up at him. ‘Well, whatever you are officially, you are certainly family,’ she said. Zac kissed the bridge of her nose as the tip of it was already painted red. ‘Anyway, you three need to meet up to discuss the music for Django's party. It's less than a fortnight away. He'll be digging out the gramophone and all his scratchy old vinyl if you Don't.’

‘Good thinking, Mrs,’ said Zac. ‘Remember to pick Tom up later.’

What a stupid thing to say, Pip thought.

To meet at the Mariners was Zac's suggestion and it was a good one. Tucked away up a side street off the Embankment, it was a hop across the river from Ben's hospital, a walk through the City for Zac and a quick taxi ride for Matt, better locating him for the journey home anyway. The establishment itself, though categorically a pub, had the feel of a gentleman's club, with walls panelled in oak, tub chairs set around tables placed discreetly apart and booths upholstered in dark green leather along the back wall. There were no fruit machines, no television, no music, no menu. The landlord and bar staff were male and conservative, in their waistcoats and ties and neat moustaches and referring to their clients as Sir. There was no active misogynism in play, indeed the landlord was somewhat mystified that the various girls to whom He'd offered bar work had turned him down. His bar, it seemed, was simply not conducive to a female clientele.

‘It's what the young people refer to as the “vibe”, dear,’ the landlord's wife defined. ‘It doesn't have the right
vibe
for the ladies.’ Even she preferred to take her occasional gin and tonic at the Kings Head in the parallel street.

‘Bitter?’ Zac asked.

‘And twisted,’ Ben quipped. ‘Actually, I hate to say it but I'm a bit of a bottled lager man now – those years in the States lured me away from warm beer.’

‘You drank pints at the Rag and Thistle when we were there the other week,’ Matt commented.

‘Country pubs are different,’ Ben said, ‘and the Rag and Thistle is in a league of its own.’

‘Apparently They're providing the beer for Django's party,’ Matt said, ‘in barrels.’

‘We must discuss the music, we only have this weekend to sort it out,’ Zac reminded himself out loud of the reason for their meeting.

‘I can't do Saturday,’ said Ben, ‘I have clinics all day.’

‘How's work?’ Matt asked him.

‘Brilliant – but long hours, which pisses Cat off,’ said Ben. ‘But I'm in my element – I'm pleased we seem to be taking sports medicine seriously in this country at last. It's not so much about treatment – if you get to that stage, You're a little too late. It's about understanding and management – That's why I pressed for the department to be called Sports Medicine, not Sports Injury. If we look after our sportsmen – professional, school, club – we'll see less injury and better results.’

‘Interesting,’ said Matt. ‘God, It's years since I put on a pair of trainers.’

‘It's not years,’ Zac corrected, ‘you and I were playing a bit of tennis last summer – you mean It's since your baby came on the scene.’

‘Christ You're right,’ Matt chinked glasses with Zac. ‘All those things I used to do BC.’

‘BC?’ said Ben. ‘
B C
,’ Matt said. ‘Before Cosima.’ Then he continued, theatrically
sotto voce
, ‘Can you slip me a nice little tonic, doctor? Some va-va-voom?’

‘Va-Va-Viagra?’ Ben asked.

‘Sod off,’ Matt laughed, ‘not for
me
. Something I can slip into Fen's Ovaltine?’

‘Oh dear,’ said Ben, ‘not enough action?’

‘None whatsoever,’ rued Matt, ‘and I'm so bored of furtive wanks in the shower I can't even be bothered to do that any more.’

‘Christ,’ muttered Ben and Zac sympathetically, grateful it wasn't them.

‘Bad patch?’ Zac asked, knowing Pip had said so but not wanting to offend Matt by revealing this.

Matt shrugged. ‘I Don't know,’ he faltered. ‘It's probably
fine.’ He took a sip of his pint. ‘Look – It's just I'd rather it didn't get back to Fen,’ he said, ‘and you know what those sisters are like.’

‘Off the record,’ Zac assured him while Ben pulled an imaginary zip across his lips.

Matt shrugged. ‘To be honest, things aren't as good as they were – dare I say it – BC. I mean, I've read the mags, the books, I went to the ante-natal classes, I cut the cord and I change nappies. I
expect
to be tired beyond belief – I
understand
that tiredness plays havoc with the libido. But actually It's not just about sex. It's more.’

‘It's about more sex?’ Zac asked and they all laughed before Matt buried his head in his hands in exaggerated woe.

‘I love the mother of my child,’ Matt said, ‘but where the fuck has my girlfriend gone? I feel surplus to requirements, you could say. It isn't in any of the books that when your child has a wonderful mother, you can't have your girlfriend back.’

‘She's obsessed with the baby?’ Ben said, being careful to turn it into a question though actually he was stating the obvious.

‘Yes,’ said Matt, ‘and nonplussed by me. I must admit, initially I was delighted and relieved by Fen's almost fierce maternal instincts – She's certainly not following in her own mother's footsteps. But now It's frustrating me.’

‘It will be temporary,’ Ben told him. ‘It's hormonal – motherhood is still partly chemical in these months.’

‘But we're dangerously close to being in a rut. Don't either of you say “Give her time”,’ Matt warned them, ‘seriously.’

‘Have you talked about this?’ Ben asked.

Matt looked embarrassed. ‘When? How?’ he said. ‘I arrive home from work and Fen badgers me to have quality time with Cosima. Then we eat in front of the television. She goes to bed early and is out like a light. If I can't use all the tricks
of the frigging trade to arouse her for some sleepy shagging, I certainly can't rouse her for a heart-to-heart.’

‘You two need time together,’ Zac said, ‘grown-up time away from home.’

Matt looked deflated. ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but she doesn't trust babysitters.’

‘We'll do it,’ Zac offered.

‘Us too,’ said Ben.

‘Thanks,’ said Matt, ‘thanks. The thing is, she doesn't seem interested. She just wants an early night. Every night.’

Ben took a long pull at his bottled beer. He shook his head with a sorry smile. ‘I tell you, Matt,’ he said, ‘It's a cruel irony – but I'm having so much sex I'm rapidly going off it.’

‘You total wanker,’ Matt laughed, a little bitterly.

‘It's no laughing matter,’ Ben assured him. ‘Cat's constantly analysing calendars and her temperature and demanding sex at scientific moments and weird angles. I'm seriously thinking of providing her with samples and a turkey baster. We've stopped making love, we're “trying for a baby”. And I'm the sperm bank.’

Zac laughed. ‘Not really Kama Sutra, then, Ben?’

‘It's about as far from the Kama bloody Sutra as
A Nun's Story
is from
Debbie Does Dallas
. All this sex – It's not fucking or shagging or making love. It's purely mechanical. But of course she also wants me to gaze at her in a deep and meaningful way because we're baby-making.’

Zac had a contemplative sip of his pint. ‘Much as I do love my two sisters-in-law, I thank heavens Pip doesn't want to procreate. I have my son and my wife and life is very very good.’

‘You smug git,’ Ben laughed.

‘Isn't June pregnant?’ Matt said with a sly edge to his voice.

‘June?’ said Ben. ‘Remind me?’

‘Tom's mother,’ Zac said and Ben slapped his forehead and said, Of course. ‘Yes,’ Zac confirmed, ‘She's due this summer.’

Ben and Matt exchanged glances and eyebrow-raises.

‘What?’ said Zac.

‘It won't be long before Pip's going to want to keep up with the June-ses,’ Matt said.