‘It’ll be the Grand National next,’ Mum calls out.
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Morning, darling. Clarky is on the telephone,’ he says somewhat tentatively. ‘Oh, and you received a letter this morning.’
I take the envelope, redirected to Mum and Dad’s address in Finn’s handwriting. Even his writing in black ink makes me feel sad that he’s not here. I put the letter in my pocket. ‘Tell Clarky I’ll call him back.’
‘He says it’s urgent.’
I look at Mum. ‘You’d better go,’ she tells me. ‘Clear the air once and for all. I’ll watch Scarlett.’
I walk into the house with Dad. ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the phone.
‘Josie?’
‘Hi.’ Clarky and I haven’t spoken since the birth.
‘Congratulations about the baby and …’ His voice is unfamiliar to me. Nervous.
‘You could have ruined everything,’ I tell him. ‘In fact, you might have done. Finn won’t see me.’
‘I wasn’t thinking, that was the trouble. It was a terrible thing to do. It felt like my one last chance to make you see I was much more dependable than him. I wanted to hurt Finn, not you and certainly not Aggie.’
‘Well, you did that.’
‘I’m so sorry, J,’ he mutters, sounding deeply ashamed.
‘Clarky, we’ve been friends all our lives, supported each other through pretty much everything. If I’m honest I was jealous of you and Aggie, but us believing we were in love was based on all the wrong reasons. We’ve used each other as comfort blankets for too long.’
‘I know. In a funny way that punch-up with Finn was what we needed. My nose is OK, by the way, thankfully not broken so it hasn’t spoilt my pretty face.’
I nearly smile. ‘I’m glad.’
‘We should have had a scrap when we were at Cambridge. The thing is, I think Finn and I could have liked one another if it hadn’t been for you.’
‘Thanks!’ But I know he’s right.
‘I’m sorry, J, I really am, for lying. Do you want me to talk to Finn?’
‘No!’ I respond too quickly. ‘No, look, it’s up to us from now on, we have to sort it out on our own.’
‘Please forgive me?’
‘It’s OK. We’ve all made mistakes, especially me. Can you forgive me too?’
‘What for?’
‘For taking our friendship for granted for too long. You needed to tell me to stop bringing my problems to you all the time.’
‘I liked it, that was half the trouble.’
‘How’s Aggie?’
‘We’re moving in together.’
‘You’re what?’ My overwhelming emotion is relief that I haven’t mucked things up for her. That out of the wreckage there comes something positive.
‘I told her everything. She didn’t speak to me for days, she swore even more than usual. I was a fucking this and a fucking that and she wasn’t going to put any fucking money in the fucking tin.’ He laughs helplessly. ‘She told me I had made her feel second best, and I understand that was how it seemed.’
‘I’m happy you’ve worked it out, but how did you?’
‘I told her the truth. That I was so used to being in love with you, so busy chasing this ridiculous dream that you and I should be together against all the odds, I couldn’t see what a fabulous person I had right in front of me. When she told me she didn’t want anything more to do with me I felt like my heart had been crushed to pieces. If she’d taken me back without putting up a fight, though, I don’t think I’d have realised it. But I don’t want to lose her and …’
‘What?’
‘… we do have a future. Things can never go back to how they were, can they?’
He already knew the answer to that question. They never could, and more importantly we couldn’t let them.
*
After the telephone call I sit down at the table and just think, enjoying the rare quietness. Some time passes before finally I open the letter.
‘
I didn’t think you’d be on e-mail there so I thought I’d write instead to say congratulations
,’ Emma writes. ‘
You and Finn must be delighted. I hope you’re both enjoying the late nights and lack of sleep again! Please send him my best love
.’
Oh, I would, if he was here.
‘
You won’t believe this but Nat walked into the kitchen yesterday with the biggest smile on his face. “Guess how many boys I had in my car today?” he asked, followed by, “FIVE, MUM!”’
I can hear George running towards the house now, Mum close behind, shouting, ‘Take your boots off before you go inside! GEORGE!’ Quickly I finish reading the letter before the peace is shattered.
‘
He only has a small clapped out Ford Fiesta. Probably not at all safe, but all I could think of was how normal this felt! Eighteen years on and my son has friends, he’s doing the things that other teenagers do. You should have seen him when he was on the phone to one of the other British Gas boys, Josie, talking about going to Alton Towers and booking into a fun hotel
.’
‘Take your boots off! Do as Granny says,’ I tell my son. Already he has left a couple of muddy footprints in the kitchen.
‘But, Mum!’
‘Now!’
He flings them off and runs past me, saying he’s dying for the loo. ‘Love you, Mum!’ he shouts.
‘Love you back,’ I say. I decide to keep the letter. It gives me hope deep down that George is going to be OK too. We’ll get through this.
I touch Finn’s handwriting on the envelope; a few of the letters become smudged with my tears. The doorbell rings. Is it Finn? It could be. Each time there’s a knock my heart lifts as I rush to the door. There’s an Interflora van in our drive. I don’t want more flowers. I want Finn! I’m handed a beautiful bouquet with a small yellow card. I only want flowers if they’re from him.
I rip open the envelope. ‘My boy misses you. Don’t break each other’s hearts. I miss you too. Fondest love, Granny.’
We shouldn’t be apart, Granny, I tell her, as if she were standing right in front of me. I’m going to do something. I have to show him how much I want him back. I’m going to make this work. I won’t let you down, I promise her.
*
The car is crammed full with luggage, George’s riding boots, Einstein the monkey, Lego and other rubbish, and then there is all the baby equipment, Scarlett in her new car seat and Rocky sitting on George’s lap. Dad is behind the driver’s wheel, tapping it impatiently.
I hug Mum. ‘Thank you for everything.’
‘Come and stay whenever you like. I’m always here for you.’
‘I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I?’
‘You’re following your heart.’
I wish she’d simply say yes.
I wave and wind down the window. ‘’Bye, Granny,’ says George. ‘’Bye, Rowan. ’Bye, tree house.’
‘Josie!’ Mum shouts now. ‘Stop!’
‘Oh, what is it now?’ Dad is weary. ‘We’re going to hit the rush hour. Have you left something behind?’ Reluctantly he stops the car.
‘What?’ I call out.
‘You are doing the right thing!’
I blow a happy kiss and lean back in my seat.
The thing is, I know I am too. He’s not expecting me home but all I want to do is see him. Make it up to him. Tell him that I’m never going to risk losing him again. I know he still loves me and we shall live happily ever after.
I am going to give Finn such a surprise.
CHAPTER FORTY
Nervously, I unlock the front door. Now that I am finally here my earlier idea of a blissful reunion has completely deserted me. The house is dark and deathly quiet. It smells musty, of stale cigarettes. Dad starts unloading the car and putting our luggage at the foot of the stairs. ‘Hello,’ I call out. ‘Finn?’ He could be in the bedroom. The shower. But the house feels empty. I switch a light on. I feel a painful thud of disappointment. Finn isn’t here.
‘Where’s Dad?’ George asks loudly, running inside. ‘Where is he?’ he demands again as if I’ve hidden him in a cupboard.
‘I’m sure he’ll be back soon,’ I say, trying hard not to show any fear. What if Finn is angry with me for just turning up like this? Should I have called? Maybe I’m the last person he wants to see. He said he’d need time. Is this too soon?
Despite George talking and singing all the way home and constantly asking, ‘Are we nearly there?’ Scarlett is fast asleep. I take her upstairs and put her into our bedroom. The shutters are closed. The bed is made; in fact it looks as if no one’s been sleeping in it. Then I see a pillow and blanket on the floor, along with a glass of water and an empty sachet of headache tablets. It melts my heart. Oh, Finn. What have you been doing?
I walk back downstairs and Dad tells me he needs to get home. ‘I don’t want to drive in the dark,’ really means, ‘I don’t want to interfere or see the fireworks when he comes home.’
‘Yes, you go, Dad. Thanks so much for driving us.’
‘You’ll be all right,’ he tells me, clutching my hand. ‘Precious girl.’
I feel teary when Dad has gone, like a small child saying goodbye at the school gates. Being cocooned at home has helped me get through this stretch of time. But I can’t hide away for ever. Finn has to see us.
George tells me he’s hungry which is a great distraction. It’s nearly eight o’clock and I realise we haven’t eaten much at all today. I open the fridge but there’s nothing in it except for a few rubber cheese slices curling at the edges, some eggs, a couple of sprouting potatoes and some off milk. I make him a toasted cheese sandwich. Other than a couple of coffee mugs, a used cereal bowl and the most sad-looking baked bean tin with dry tomato sauce encrusted down one side and a plastic teaspoon in it, the kitchen is tidy. Finn hates baked beans. It’s strange coming into the house after only a fortnight. Already it has a different smell, even a different feel. There’s no mess due to the absence of George and Rocky. It hasn’t been lived in. There’s a vase of dead lilies that Finn hasn’t bothered to throw out. How pathetic they look, drooping onto the table.
Then there are all the things that remind me of a once happy home like the passport pictures of Finn, George and me that are pinned to the fridge by a strawberry magnet. There’s his familiar writing on the blackboard. An old message: ‘I love you if you’ll buy me some of that nice soda bread.’
Finn’s record player sits in the corner of the room. Objects that once looked so familiar and now I hardly dare to touch them, frightened I’m an intruder.
*
‘Is Dad here?’ shouts George. He was exhausted and cross that I hadn’t let him stay up. In the end we’d made a deal. If I gave him a mug of hot chocolate
and
a bourbon biscuit he would go upstairs. He opens his door and runs to the top of the stairs.
‘No, I was on the phone, go back to sleep.’ I’d just been talking to Christo who had said Finn could either be at the hospital or eating out because he hated coming back to an empty house. ‘I’ll let you know if I hear anything,’ he’d assured me.
*
Where is he? I’m pacing up and down the room. The longer he makes me wait, the more agitated I become. I’ve fed Scarlett and set up her cot and George is fast asleep, at last. I call Mrs B. ‘I didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘Josie, you’re back!’ she says happily. ‘You and Finn have sorted it all out. I knew you would. When Michael and I …’
‘Mrs B,’ I interrupt, ‘have you seen him at all in the last week?’
‘Not a word. I’ve been round but he’s never at home! I tried to give him a nice coronation chicken. Why?’ She eventually gets the gist. ‘Does he know you’re home?’
‘No.’
‘Oh,’ she says thoughtfully, followed by a helpful, ‘I hope he’s OK. I don’t know where he could be.’
I hang up and look at my watch again, wanting it to lie, tell me it’s not this late after all. But it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Calm down. It’s probably something completely straightforward. If he’s eaten out he has to be back soon, they don’t serve food now. But it’s not like Finn to sit in a pub all night. He could be at a club … I’m worried. What if he’s done something stupid? I open the curtains, desperate to see the reassuring lights of his car. All I want to hear is his key in the lock. Hear him say, ‘Hi, honey, I’m home,’ as he drops his briefcase on the floor and takes off his tie and shoes. Why isn’t he answering his mobile?
I sit down on the sofa and stare at the television. The noise makes no sense. I shut my eyes, terrified he’s been involved in a car crash and it’s too late to tell him I love him. Should I be ringing Accident and Emergency to see if he’s been admitted? Should I be sitting here doing nothing? What if he’s in terrible trouble?
*
I feel a tug on my arm. ‘George, back to bed,’ I murmur. I wrap the blanket around me and rest my head against the pillow. I’m wearing Finn’s old hooded top that I’d found tucked in the back of our wardrobe. It still smells of him.
He takes a strand of my hair and tucks it behind my ear. ‘Who’s been sleeping on
my
pillow and
my
blanket?’ he says, as if he’s one of the three bears scolding Goldilocks.
I open my eyes. ‘Finn!’ I fling my arms around him. ‘I’ve been so worried. Where have you been?’
‘Dorset.’ He kneels down by the sofa.
‘What?’
‘I wanted to bring you home. The thing was, you weren’t there.’
‘I’m here.’
‘I can see that,’ he says with that smile that’s about to happen. ‘So I turned my car round and came back again, fast as I could, because I figured I’ve already lost enough time and I can’t afford to lose anymore, not with my family. Not with you.’
I hug him again and this time I feel his arms wrap tightly around me. I tell him I shall never again run to Clarky when the going gets tough. I will never lie again. ‘Except if I’ve done something stupid like get another parking ticket,’ I add.
‘J, I’m sorry too. I’ve done a lot of thinking and know I haven’t exactly been the model husband. I need to be more involved in George’s life, not deny how difficult he can be. We have to face his problems head on, together, without me shouting my head off. But,’ he says, ‘most importantly, I don’t want to let things slide between us, the way people drift apart without even realising and then find there’s nothing left to salvage. This past fortnight, I’ve been miserable. I was so angry. I went over and over it again, imagining you and him together. Nothing but my own stupid pride got in the way of my seeing you and our baby and George. But then I got tired, J. So tired of dwelling on the past. I don’t want to lose you and …’
‘Finn, there’s no chance of that.’
‘I want to see Scarlett. I’ve got to see her.’ Quickly he stands up and gives me his hand. I take it and lead him upstairs, into the quiet dark room. He picks her up and out of the cot. I can see he’s crying as he holds her close, breathing in the smell of her skin. ‘I’m such a proud stubborn idiot.’
I lean across to kiss him. ‘Yes, but you’re
my
proud stubborn idiot.’