A Hundred Pieces of Me (48 page)

After they’d left, Gina was putting the plates in the dishwasher when the intercom bell rang. Thinking it must be Rachel or Naomi coming back for something, she pressed the button. ‘What did you forget?’

‘Gina? It’s me,’ said a man’s voice. ‘Can I come up?’

It was Stuart.

Gina felt a clench of resistance. She hadn’t spoken to Stuart since his surprise appearance at the Hewsons’ party. Rory was handling the financial paperwork, and though she’d just about got her head around the fact of the baby, Gina didn’t want to Stuart to spoil the gentle warmth of her birthday mood with some thoughtless request for yet another forgotten wedding gift, or worse, some sort of ham-fisted apology.

‘I’m just about to go out,’ she lied.

‘Won’t take a minute.’

Come on, Gina. Don’t be churlish.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘One minute.’

‘Really one minute,’ she told Buzz, as Stuart’s feet thudded up the stairs at a run. ‘Then we’ll take some cake to Nick. Good reason to go out.’

Buzz’s ears twitched forward, then back again, but instead of skittering into the kitchen as he would have done a few weeks ago, he lay down by her feet, eyes fixed on the door.

When the knock came, Gina took a deep breath and opened it.

‘Happy birthday,’ said Stuart. He was holding a bunch of flowers – a carefully non-romantic selection from M&S. The lilies were balanced with several ornamental thistles. ‘I was going to leave these, but since you’re in . . . I can say happy birthday in person.’

‘Thanks for remembering. It’s sweet of you to take the afternoon off work to drop them off,’ she said, trying to be light.

He looked awkward. ‘We’re, um, on our way to the hospital, actually. Check-up.’

‘Oh.’ She must have flinched, because Stuart seemed to check himself

‘They’re apology flowers too, to be honest. I wanted to say sorry,’ he went on. ‘About turning up at Jason and Naomi’s the other weekend. We shouldn’t have done that, not without warning you.’

‘You’re Jason’s friend too,’ Gina started, but he held up a hand to stop her.

‘No, it was stupid. I shouldn’t have brought Bryony. I don’t know what I was thinking. We were on our way back from her mum’s, and I suppose I just thought, maybe if you met her, we could just, I don’t know, have a beer and . . .’ Stuart’s voice trailed off, and he shrugged at the ridiculousness of what he’d just said. ‘I’m sorry.’

It was because he was happy, Gina realised. He was in that blissed-out state where nothing outside his bubble registered. Stuart had been a bit useless at anticipating other people’s feelings at the best of times; he wasn’t malicious, just a bit . . . unimaginative.

‘Should I take it as a
compliment
that you thought I’d be fine about being ambushed by your pregnant girlfriend?’ she said, and it didn’t come out as jokily as she’d meant it to.

Stuart’s eyes searched her face, trying to work out how sarcastic she was being. ‘Well, yeah. To be honest. You seemed almost relieved when we decided to split. I thought you’d be, like, fair enough. I didn’t want him. I thought you might be glad that someone else did.’

‘That’s what you thought?’ It amazed Gina how much more observant she was about Stuart’s personality now they’d split up. He really did decide how things should be, and then set about making them fit into that view. It was just that she’d always been happy to make herself fit; she didn’t have to do that anymore.

‘Yes! Come on, you were barely talking to me at the end.’ Stuart raised his palms, as if she were being unreasonable. ‘I couldn’t say anything right. It was like you were determined to find a problem with everything I said. And, for what it’s worth, Bryony and I didn’t
plan
this baby. It just happened. But I’m glad it did. It forced us all to move on. We could have stayed like that for ever. At least this way we’ve both got a chance to start something new.’

Anger bubbled inside Gina, a knee-jerk resentment at his criticism, but it didn’t stick. Underneath the voice of reason pointed out that he was right. They could have stayed in limbo for years, each needling the other to do something bad enough to break up over. What kind of victory was that?

It was easier to hate Stuart when he was a curt text or a four-page legal demand. When he was just decent, familiar Stuart standing in front of her, the world’s most awkward love rat, she couldn’t. Gina looked at him, and his awful new beard, and his half-excited, half-terrified demeanour and couldn’t be angry any more.

There had been good times for her and Stuart – the way he’d looked after her when she’d been ill, for one thing. The happy hours they’d had renovating the house, the weekends away. It would be childish to ignore that, to justify the way it had ended. She’d been lucky that he’d been there for her when she’d needed someone reliable and solid.

I’m not even angry with him for cheating, thought Gina. I’m angry with myself for not loving him enough. And what’s the point in that? Why regret what you can’t change now?

Stuart was braced for her response, and at the sight of his apprehension, the fight went out of her. Something in his face reminded her of Buzz. He was expecting her to be cruel, when he used to look at her with adoration. ‘The wife’, he’d loved calling her. Half joking, half not.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

He was thrown. ‘
You
’re sorry?’

‘I’m sorry that it didn’t work out.’ Gina swallowed. ‘I’m sorry you had to live through a complete nightmare with my cancer, and I never really said thank you.’

‘What? You don’t need to thank me for that.’ Stuart seemed bemused. ‘What else was I going to do? I loved you. I hated watching you suffer. It did my head in. If anything . . .’ He frowned, then rolled his eyes. ‘What the hell? It needs to be said. I always felt guilty that I didn’t spot it before.’

‘Now
that
’s ridiculous! If I didn’t notice, how could you?’

‘I should have felt . . .’

‘Don’t.’ Gina raised her hands: this was what had wound her up all those years, his determination to take charge. ‘It was my body. I should have noticed something wasn’t right.’

‘Does it matter now?’ From the expression on his face, Stuart wasn’t just talking about the cancer.

‘No.’ She tried to smile. Her emotions were blurring. ‘We did our best. I hope you’ll be happy. I hope you’ll make each other happy. With . . . with the new baby and everything.’

‘Thanks. I appreciate that.’ Stuart squeezed his forehead, as if trying to rub out a headache. ‘I’m just sorry if . . . You said I wasted your time. I’m sorry if I did. I hope you haven’t wasted it.’

‘It was your time too,’ she said. ‘And it wasn’t wasted. Everything gets us to where we are now, right?’

She stretched out her hands. Stuart took them, folding them in his own, and gazed into her face as if he was looking for traces of what they’d once seen in each other. For a second, Gina caught a glimpse of the Stuart she’d first fancied at Naomi’s party: a twenty-something football hero with nice jeans, no chat-up lines, and denim-blue eyes that would make him a handsome old man.

He squeezed her fingers. She recognised the old tenderness, and then it was gone, their history, slipping under the waters like a stone.

‘Can you be sad and happy at the same time?’ she said, her voice cracking.

‘Dunno,’ said Stuart. ‘I’m not as good with words as you are. Come here.’

They stood and hugged goodbye without calling it that, and Gina felt lightness shiver through her, the same lightness she felt when she walked into her airy, empty flat at the end of a long day.

Thirty-four. This was what grown-up felt like. It wasn’t so bad.

It had just gone three o’clock when Gina drove out to Langley St Michael and her mood lifted with every song the local station played. The sun was shining enough to warrant sunglasses for driving, she had half of the enormous birthday cake in a tin, and her dog – her very own, very first dog – was harnessed to the back seat of her car, pointy nose lifted to the gap in the window, eyes closed in sheer bliss.

There had been no comeback as yet from the detailed email Gina had sent Amanda in response to some of the queries she’d raised in her Skype conference, mainly about the roof and the letting issue. She’d been over several times since the power-cut night to liaise with Lorcan about various building schedules, and Nick had seemed fine when she’d called in. Friendly, cheerful. Just as normal, in fact. But, then, she’d been deliberately normal too.

Gina wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or slightly disappointed. Relieved, she decided. Just about.

Nick was sitting out in the rear courtyard with Lorcan, his two lads and the roofers when she pulled into the circular drive. They’d obviously knocked off for the day, and were enjoying a cold drink in the sun.

‘Hey!’ Nick raised a can of Coke to her. ‘Come and join us!’

‘Half three? You’ve finished early, Lorcan.’ Gina made a show of checking her watch. ‘What time do you call this?’

‘It’s Friday. We’ve finished those joists and we’re waiting on the new lead. No point starting the next phase till Monday now.’

‘Slacking.’ Gina pretended to sigh. ‘And you’re encouraging them, Nick. What can I say? Don’t let them bill you for a full day. Have they tidied up?’

‘This is what you pay her for.’ Lorcan looked amused. ‘The whip-cracking.’

‘And she’s very good at it. Except I can’t help noticing she’s very late herself.’ Nick squinted up into the sun.

‘This is my day off, I’ll have you know. I only came to bring you a bit of birthday cake.’

‘Ah, that’s more like it,’ said Lorcan, as Gina put the cake-tin down on the wall next to them and started cutting slices.

‘It’s your birthday?’ said Nick. ‘You didn’t say!’

‘I’m not big on birthdays,’ said Gina. ‘I’m not twelve. And before any of you suggest it, it’s not a significant one.’

Nick made a pshaw noise. ‘That’s no reason not to treat yourself. Where’s that greyhound of yours? Did you bring him?’

‘He’s in the car.’ She hesitated. ‘I should let him out – it’s getting warm. Do you mind if I bring him round? He’s a bit wary of men. In groups.’ She glanced at Lorcan.

‘Ex-racer?’ His face was sympathetic, and she nodded.

‘I getcha. Listen, we’ll tidy up, then make a move. Monday morning, eh, Nick?’ Lorcan picked up his slice of cake and got to his feet. ‘And a happy birthday to you, Gina,’ he added, giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek. ‘May you have many, many more to come.’

Buzz seemed happy to be back at the Magistrate’s House, and strained on his lead as she took him round the gravel path to the back of the house, where the lawn stretched out like a green skating rink, as big as a couple of tennis courts together. Nick was already sitting on the stone steps with another cold Coke for her and a washing-up bowl of water for Buzz, which he thoughtfully placed on a step up so the greyhound didn’t have to bend down too far. Gina unclipped his lead, and let him stretch out by her feet, the white snowflake patches on his coat shining in the sun.

‘So, did Lorcan actually say the lead wasn’t coming for the roof until Monday, because . . .?’ she started, but Nick put a hand on her knee and squeezed it. Not in a sexy way, in a ‘please, no’ way. It was an easy, friendly gesture. He held it for just a second, but it was long enough for a tingle to run through Gina’s leg.

‘Can we
not
talk about the house?’ he asked lightly. ‘I’ve had a whole day with Lorcan discussing the pros and cons of recessed lighting, and a whole night arguing with Amanda about en suites. I just want to sit here with my cold drink and enjoy the garden.’

‘Isn’t whip-cracking what you pay me for?’ said Gina.

‘Like you said, it’s your day off. It’s your company I’m enjoying now, not your timetabling expertise.’

Before Gina could process the compliment, Nick chinked his Coke can against hers. ‘And happy birthday. May this year be considerably better than the last.’

‘That’s not going to be hard. I could get shingles and it’d still be better than last year.’

‘OK.’ Nick turned to her, and looked her straight in the eyes with his unsettlingly straight gaze. ‘May this year be the happiest year of your life, with everything you wish for, and some surprises on top. How’s that?’

Gina smiled, and the wish hung in the air between them until she broke the moment by glancing down. ‘It’s not been a bad first day so far,’ she said. ‘I’ve had cake, I’ve got a dog, I’ve had flowers and an apology from my ex . . .’

‘Oh?’

She nodded. ‘We had a conversation we should have had a long time ago. You were right about regrets. They’re unfair. I think we’ve drawn a line.’

Nick smiled. ‘Good. You look happier.’

‘Do I? I think maybe . . .’ She jumped as Nick made a sudden sideways movement.

‘Ssh,’ he said, and she thought he was going to touch her, until she realised he was reaching for the Polaroid camera sticking out of her bag.

Gina turned to where he was looking and saw that while they’d been talking Buzz had made his way down to the wide lawn, which was bathed in afternoon sunlight. He was trotting as if testing the grass. Then, as his paws hit the smoother surface, he began to run, faster and faster, until he was racing around the outer edge of the lawn, all four legs stretched off the ground, covering the distance with effortless speed.