My Best Friend's Girl (31 page)

“I know you’re at work so you can’t talk for long, but you don’t return my calls to your mobile or reply to my e-mails,” he said. He spoke without accusation; in fact, the only thing I detected in his tone was understanding. “I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Oh,” I replied.

“I know it’s Adele’s birthday, well, would have been Adele’s birthday and I was wondering what you were doing? It’s going to be hard on you and Tegan, I was wondering if you wanted to spend the day together like we used to?”

“I was going to call you about that actually.” I eyed up Luke, who was the model of disinterest, perched on the end of my desk, leafing through pages for the new issue of the magazine that were languishing in my in tray.

“Really?” Nate’s voice lifted.

“Yeah, Tegan and I are spending the twenty-fifth alone but she was wondering if you were free on the twenty-sixth, when we’re having Christmas Day.”

Luke stopped at a particularly interesting proof page of a list of the concessions we had in various Angeles stores and read it, several times, as he waited for Nate’s answer.

“Is Luke going to be there?” Nate asked.

“Of course.”

“Then I don’t think it’s a good idea, do you? Much as I’d love to, I don’t think the four of us would have a good time. How about I come over on Christmas Eve and give you your presents, then?”

“OK,” I said, relieved. Greatly relieved. Not only because Luke would spend the whole day—and probably the following month—in a foul mood, but because I didn’t want to spend time with Nate. The elements of our relationship—our deceased relationship—had altered with the knowledge of why he’d slept with someone else. He hadn’t done it out of malice, he’d been driven to it by loneliness. I could understand those feelings. I’d had them so many times in my life, and for him to have had them when he was with me…That meant a lot of things about me. My constant fear that I’d driven him to do it was right, but I was wrong about how I’d driven him to it. I hadn’t bitched him into it, I’d withdrawn from him. I’d abandoned him, left him lonely. Of course, he didn’t have to sleep with someone else, but he was only human. We’d all done stupid things in moments of weakness: I’d flirted with the guy from Scotland I’d gotten close to at work; I’d almost slept with Ted that time in the hotel room. I understood a little more about Nate now, and that modicum of knowledge was dangerous.

“Christmas Eve, then,” he said. “Can I see you before then?”

“Erm, I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I replied, after a sideways look at Luke, who was still reading Angeles’s concession list.

“What about Tegan? Do I get to see her before then?”

“If you want. I can drop her off at your place for an hour or so.” There was no way in hell I would do it but this was a test—did he really want to see Tegan or to see me?

“Or I could come over and you could go out for an hour?” he replied. “Less disruptive for her?”

“You know that’s not going to happen, don’t you?”

“Not now, maybe, but in time, it might. I do genuinely want to see her. And you, of course.”

“Nate, I’m busy.”

“He’s there, isn’t he?”

I sighed. “OK, I’ll call you, maybe you can come over at the weekend, I’ll see if Tegan’s up for it.”

“OK. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye, Nate.”

“OK, babe, love you, bye.” Click went the phone as he hung up. BOOM! went my mind as I repeated what he said in my head. With a trembling hand I put down the receiver.

“Is he coming for Christmas?” Luke asked.

I shook my head, afraid to look at him in case my face betrayed what was going on in my mind. Nate had said it so easily. No big deal. Two words dropped into a conversation. It’s what he always said when we were together, how he’d always ended our conversations. “He’s, erm, busy, probably going to his parents’ place. He’s going to come over on Christmas Eve instead, just to drop off Tegan’s presents.”

“Ryn?” Luke began. I turned to look at him, hoping my face wouldn’t betray what Nate had done to me. My boyfriend’s face creased in a shy smile, the anger gone. “I’m sorry for being such an ass earlier. I do understand, I’m just disappointed is all.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t know. For the first time in my life I’ve got a family, I’ve got you and a kid, I never had a child I could spoil at Christmas. Do you know how excited I was? Christmas is a time for families, so I wanted to be with you both. But the twenty-sixth will be OK. It’ll be great, in fact.”

I nodded.

After checking that no one had returned early from lunch and could see into mine and Betsy’s glass-walled office, Luke leaned forward, kissed me quick. “See you tonight, babe.”

“Yeah, see you tonight.”

He left my office. And when he left, the thumping of my heart at what Nate said increased. I could replay it, hold it up to the light like a precious jewel, examine its perfect facets. “Love you, babe, bye.” Nate’s smooth voice telling me he still felt how he did before was something I hadn’t expected to happen. Did I love him? If I did, what would it mean for our lives? And it would be
our
lives. Who I chose to be with wasn’t only about who I wanted to be with, Tegan’s feelings counted as much as mine. If she wasn’t around, I know who I’d choose. I’d make my choice in a heartbeat.

My mobile bleeped on the desk beside my mouse. When I opened the message from Luke, it said:

FORGOT TO SAY, I LOVE YOU
: )

I cleared the message, almost threw the phone down onto the desk.

Do I really know who I’d choose? Do I?

chapter 39

A
dele Day dawned and Tegan was out of bed before light managed to break cover and peek through the night sky.

The sound of her footsteps padding down the corridor stirred me from the light sleep I’d spent most of the night drifting in and out of. And as her head popped round the door, I struggled upright and blinked awakeness onto my face.

“Am I allowed to come in?” Tegan asked.

In all the time we’d lived together she’d never asked if it was all right to come into a room. I didn’t understand where her sudden reticence came from. “Course,” I replied. She walked slowly in, climbed up on the bed and under my covers.

“Do you want breakfast first or your present?” I encircled her with my arm as I spoke, pulling her into the nook that she fitted so neatly in.

“I’m allowed a present?” she asked.

“Yes, of course, madam. This is Adele Day, which of course means a present. Afterward we can have breakfast and you can ring Nana Faith. It’s up to you.”

Tegan’s eyes widened as she thought about what to do. All the possibilities. “Present,” she whispered after much rumination and lip screwing.

“OK,” I said. I shifted in bed, opened the drawer at the top of my bedside table and pulled out a gold box with a red ribbon around it. “Here you go.”

Tegan’s eyes widened some more as she took the box with two hands. She sat staring at it, slight apprehension on her heart-shaped face. “What is it?” she asked.

Any other child would have ripped the box open by now, but not Tegan, she had to think it through, find out all she could before diving in head first. I was like that, always a bit cautious; Adele would’ve had the box open the second she saw it was for her. That’s what came from having romance in your soul, I suppose. You believed in things like love at first sight and perfect presents.

“Open it and find out,” I advised.

Tegan didn’t move for a couple of seconds before she started playing with the ribbon, trying to untie it, until she realized that, like the white laces on her favorite pair of trainers, if she tugged on one end, the whole thing would come apart. She cautiously lifted the lid of the box and gazed inside.

“Is it really for me?” she gasped, her head snapping up to search my face for any hint that I might take it back. I nodded.

Carefully, like she did most things, she reached into the box and from its bed of blue silk padding she picked up the gold necklace with a disk hanging from it. She stared hard at the disk, brought it right up to her face and scrutinized the dark, holographic picture on it.

“It’s me and my mummy,” she said eventually.

“It sure is,” I replied. I’d had a photo of Tegan and Adele copied onto the disk.

“Can I wear it all the time?” she asked, staring at the necklace in her hands.

“If you want to. It’s up to you.”

She held it out to me to put on. I took the chain from her, and instructed her, “Lift up your hair so I can hook it up at the back,” before I slipped the chain around her slender neck. “There,” I said, when I’d finished. She let her hair fall back into place, and I wondered as her blond locks touched her shoulders if I should get her hair cut.

I stroked her hair, smiled at her gazing down at her medallion. I liked Tegan with long hair, but what would Adele have wanted? What would Adele think of Tegan having longer than shoulder-length hair? Her daughter’s hair had always been cut when it reached chin-length. Tegan hadn’t complained about that, and she didn’t complain about it being long, but what would Adele say?

Does it matter?
I thought mutinously.
In the grand scheme of things, does it matter what Adele would have wanted? She’s not here.
Guilt skipped close behind those rebellious thoughts. Luke had planted those seeds of mutiny in my mind a few days ago.

I’d been pondering aloud if I should send Tegan to middle school, or if I should wait and send her to a comprehensive, and if I’d have to move to get into a good school district. I explained to Luke that I hadn’t ever had that discussion with Adele, I didn’t know if Adele would want her daughter to go to an all-girls’ school where the pupils were said to perform better than they did when they were in a mixed school, or a mixed school where she’d learn that she had to compete with males in the real world anyway.

Luke had listened to all I had to say on the matter before replying, “You’re not Adele.”

I’d been offended. Did he really think I was stupid enough to believe I could replace her in Tegan’s life? Had I not explained to him on many an occasion that my biggest worry was that I couldn’t be an Adele substitute? “I know that,” I replied.

“Well then stop trying to be her,” he’d said, from my bed. He was working on his laptop while I was working on the computer. “You call Tegan your daughter, so act like she is. Stop trying to second-guess what Adele would have wanted and do what you want. She’s your responsibility not Adele’s.”

I’d frowned at him, and he’d set aside his laptop, raised an eyebrow as he waited for a reply. “I know she’s my responsibility,” I eventually said.

“I’m not saying you’re not taking responsibility for her, babe, it’s just that it’s very easy to become frozen. You could worry so much about what Adele would want that you do nothing. And, I hate to say this, but it’s the ultimate fall-back, isn’t it? If things go wrong, you don’t have to accept you made a bum decision because you can say it was what Adele would have wanted and not you that messed up.”

I bit my lower lip as I dropped my eyes away. “I don’t do that.”

“I would, if I was in your position,” he admitted. He stretched and scratched his hairless chest. “It’s a get-out-of-jail-free card. Who the hell wouldn’t use it if they had someone they could pass the buck to every time something went south?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I replied, feeling chastised and caught out, even though I seriously hadn’t ever thought like that. Tegan was Adele’s daughter so of course I was going to do whatever it took to make sure that she was brought up how Adele would have wanted. But he had a point—she was my baby now. My burden. My hope. My love. Everything, good or bad, was down to me. From now on, the personality traits that she developed, the habits, the foibles, the way she did things would be a result of what came next. Of what life was like with me.

I looked down at Tegan again and fear kicked up a fuss in my head and chest. If I thought too closely about this, I had an urge to hide. To scramble under the covers and hide until it’d all passed me by. I’d never had the urge to be defined like this. To be someone’s mum. I never had an urge or need to procreate, to have someone dependent upon me. Yes, I’d taken care of Nate, but only because he took care of himself in return. If I forgot him one night to go out, he wouldn’t starve. I knew all this when I’d agreed to take on Tegan, but it was at moments like this, moments when she was so completely reliant upon me for not only her physical well-being but also her emotional well-being that it hit me again. I was in charge. Of it all. All the time. Forever.

“Come on, then, missus, we’ve got a whole lot of things to do, we can’t be lying around in bed all day.”

Tegan’s face disappeared behind her grin. I flung back the covers and Tegan slid out of bed, me following her. “Let’s make some calls and have breakfast.”

“OK,” she replied.

In the living room, I handed Tegan the phone and she hit the speed-dial button with “M&D” beside it. It was only just six o’clock but my mum was obviously waiting for her call because almost instantly Tegan said, “Hello, Nana Faith…Fine…” She laughed a little tinkly Tegan laugh and replied, “You said Happy Adele Day.” Her grin got even wider as I heard the soft tones of my mother talking to her down the phone.

When I’d told my mum about Adele Day, she’d been a lot more supportive than Luke had been. She’d said she’d make us a cake if we wanted, but I’d declined the offer; it was nice but not necessary. Just as I’d said goodbye Mum had said, “You know, Kamryn, your father and I are very proud of you.”

“Pardon?” I replied, shocked that my mum had said that about me. Our relationship had been defined by my non-wedding. By my embarrassing them in front of their friends and our wider family by not getting married and not really explaining why.

“Tegan is a big responsibility,” Mum continued. “I was very surprised when you told us you were going to look after her. You are doing very well, though. Very well.” Mum often rang to speak to Tegan, and Tegan often called my parents. During the summer my parents had driven to Manchester to see my sister and came via Leeds to pick up Tegan so she could spend the day with them and my sister’s family. They loved Tiga. Everyone loved Tiga.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“Ever since you didn’t get married”—we’d never talked about it and when either of my parents tried, I changed the subject—“we were worried about you. What you would do. And we didn’t understand why you moved so far away so suddenly, but now, we’re not so worried. You have someone.”

“You mean Luke?” I asked.

“Tegan. You’ve got a family now. That makes me very happy.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled again, not sure what to say. My parents had never let on that they worried about me being alone. Even if they wanted to, when would they have got the chance? I wasn’t known for staying on the phone long enough for them to reveal anything earth shattering. In fact, in the time since I’d inherited Tegan I spoke to them more than I had in all my life.

Tegan finished talking to my mum, then spoke to Grandpa Hector. Then she asked if she could call my sister, Sheridan, and her kids. By the time she’d spoken to all our family, I’d made us toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast.

Adele lay on her back, one arm supporting her head, the other lying on her bare stomach. Sunglasses hid her eyes, her skin shiny with sunblock. She was pouting up at the camera, her long hair that fuzzed around her head in curls the only thing, she thought, that distinguished her from Marilyn Monroe. “Imagine if she was my mother,” Adele had said when she saw that photo I took of her that summer when it was so hot all we could do was lie on towels in my parents’ garden, reading magazines and drinking ice water, pretending we didn’t mind not having much money to start next term with. “Imagine if Marilyn Monroe was my mother, how different my life would be.” And we did imagine, and then it’d occurred to us both at the same time that Marilyn would have had to have had sex with Adele’s father, which was too gross a thought to take any further.

Tegan flipped over the page in one of my college photo albums. There was a picture of me slumped over my desk, my head literally in a book, waist-length plaits hiding my face. I was wearing a big, shapeless white sweater and black knee-length shorts. I’d been cramming for my finals and Adele had caught me asleep on the job.

The opposite page, Adele and I were graduating. We were in our green and black gowns with mortarboards and matching smiles. In the background my parents were uneasily talking to Adele’s father and his wife. When Tegan spotted her grandfather and Muriel, she snapped over the page quickly, and over the next three pages that had our graduation pictures. We moved on to another album, later pictures of Adele and me and Nate. I’d kept those pictures even though I hadn’t looked at them in an age. There was Nate and I sitting on the sofa in Adele’s and my flat. We were kissing and Adele had taken the picture. There was another of me and Adele playing Twister, taken by Nate. There was me and Nate, showing off my ruby engagement ring. There was Adele, two months pregnant, pointing to her stomach, Nate in the background watching TV. Adele, nine months pregnant. Tegan in Adele’s arms, minutes after she was born—Adele looking as bedraggled as if she’d run a marathon. Me holding Tegan. Nate holding Tegan, having been threatened with no sex for a week by me if he didn’t.

Tegan was the one who aged most noticeably in the photos; lines appeared on the adult faces but it was Tegan who evolved from lying to sitting to crawling to walking to running to dancing. All the while laughing, giggling, smiling. Happy.

We looked through all the pictures, had a Bung It for our tea, then an exhausted Tegan asked to go to bed at six o’clock. She didn’t need a bath, a story or a chat, she just changed into her PJs, got under her covers and closed her eyes.

“Goodnight, Tiga,” I said after I’d switched off the light beside her bed.

“I want my mummy,” she whispered.

I’d decided not to read Tegan the card Adele had left her for Christmas Day, nor any of the other letters she’d left just yet. It’d only confuse her, make her think there was a chance Adele would return. Maybe the day had, too. Maybe it’d been too much for her.

A small sob escaped her lips, “I want my mummy,” she said again, quieter.

I didn’t know what to say so ran a hand over her bescarved hair. Had I done the wrong thing today? Had I screwed up and thereby screwed Tegan up? “I want my mummy” was her last whisper as she slid into sleep.

Switching off all the lights, apart from those in the hallway, I trailed to bed dragging my conscience with me. I’d hurt Tegan instead of helping her. I should go back to what I was doing before—not talking about Adele. It didn’t do this to her when we didn’t talk about Adele. I slipped into bed, even though it wasn’t even seven o’clock.

I woke up again when I was being nudged aside in bed. I opened my eyes a fraction: Tegan. She put a foot on the base of my bed, hoisted herself up onto the bed. She moved aside the covers, and snuggled against me. I wrapped my arm around her and she moved slightly to get closer to me. Within minutes she was breathing gently and slowly, asleep.

At least she knew she had me. I wasn’t her mum, but I was there.