A Little Love (32 page)

‘Sure you have and I’m Madonna.’

‘Well, Madonna, when you’ve quite finished, his bum needs changing.’ Meg placed the clean nappy on Milly’s head, which she wore like a hat. It made Lucas gurgle.

Rocky and Liam sauntered over. Liam touched his finger to Lucas’s cheek. ‘All right, little mate?’

‘Do you want to hold him?’ Milly offered.

‘Nah!’ Liam took a step backwards. ‘I might drop him.’

Milly shrugged. ‘Doubtful.’

Rocky stepped forward in his place. ‘Is it true that christenings are like weddings, where the best man gets off with the main bridesmaid? So like the godmother and godfather have to get together?’

Milly looked him and Liam up and down: they had a combined age that was still decades younger than hers. ‘It most certainly is not!’ She smirked, however, despite herself. ‘Cheeky sods.’

The boys left the kitchen a bit sharpish, laughing and looking for somewhere they could have a sneaky fag.

Milly tickled Lucas under the chin and thrust the nappy back at Meg. ‘I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Meg.’ She hesitated, looked out over the grass. ‘I think that you end up with the people in your life that you are supposed to have and I think I’m meant to have you and Lucas in mine. And I’m so sorry for how we started, Meg, truly sorry. I was so messed up over Bobby, but I should never, ever have taken it out on you. I shall regret it, always.’

‘Oh shut up, Milly, you’re stuck with us now!’ Meg pecked her on the cheek.

Pru and Isabel sat side by side at the kitchen table.

‘He’s a poppet, isn’t he?’ Pru looked at Isabel, who nodded.

‘He really is.’

‘Does he look like William?’ Pru wondered.

William’s mother sighed. ‘Not identical, but bits of him, yes. His little smile is similar and he’s the same type of baby – placid, sweet. William was always like that – until he got to school, and then it was a whole different story!’

‘I’m glad,’ Pru said. ‘I like to think William was a bit naughty, lived a life!’

Isabel gestured to Meg, who was fooling around with the nappy and making a fuss of Lucas. ‘I’d say she’s evidence enough of that!’ She inhaled sharply and sipped her champagne. Then she leant in. ‘I want to tell you something, Pru.’

‘Fire away!’

‘On the day of the engagement party, when people were leaving, I couldn’t find William anywhere. Bobby was dancing away, having the time of her life!’ Isabel paused at the memory. ‘I came into the house and I don’t know why, call it instinct, but I went up to William’s old room and he was sitting there on the bed. He looked like he had been crying. Apart from when his father died, I hadn’t seen him like that since he was a child and it was awkward for us both. I sat next to him on the bed and asked him what was wrong. He was very vague, but he said something that stayed with me.’ She drew breath. ‘He said he wanted some peace. I put my arm around him and I said to him, “What on earth could be making you so sad on a day like this? Are you missing Dad?” Because to be truthful that’s all I could think of, I guess that’s because I was missing him too, always do at any function.’ Pru saw the flicker across her eyes. You would never have guessed, Isabel, the life and soul.

‘But he shook his head and turned towards me. I could smell that he had been drinking, but it was that sort of party, wasn’t it? I didn’t think much of it. He tried to smile at me, but it was difficult for him, as though he had too much going on in his head. I tried to guess then what the problem might be. I asked him if he had last-minute nerves or felt things were going too fast. I was trying to work out how I could make it better for him.’ She paused. ‘Again, he shook his head and then he said, “No, Mum, nothing like that, but I’ve messed up.” That’s what he said, “I’ve messed up,” and then he said it again, “I just want peace.”’

Pru listened, not knowing how to relieve the guilt that dripped from her every word. Isabel continued. ‘I didn’t know what he meant of course and put it down to the drink talking. I thought maybe he was referring to the overly long two-day party; maybe he was tired, wanted to sleep. Maybe he had something going on at work. I thought all sorts, but never, ever that he had got himself into real trouble. Then when you called, it was as if every word that he had spoken on that night came sharply to my mind. I think this was what he was talking about.’

‘Probably, Isabel, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. They had an accident and everything else is incidental.’

Isabel shot her a sideways look. ‘I know.’ She twisted her fingers together. ‘But maybe his cluttered head led to that accident, maybe they were fighting? And I keep thinking that if only I’d been there for him, talked to him about what was really bothering him, intervened, he might not have crashed.’

‘It doesn’t work that way.’

‘I know it doesn’t, but that won’t change how I feel.’ Isabel emptied her glass and reached for the bottle. ‘For the last couple of months, it’s felt like I’ve been trapped in a black hole and I couldn’t see how to climb out. Then Lucas popped up and it’s as if he has brought me back to life.’ Isabel smiled, warmly this time. ‘It’s almost as if William left me an amazing gift.’

‘That’s exactly what he did, he left you an amazing gift.’ Pru patted her hand.

‘I do wonder if he would have come clean eventually. He’d have had to, wouldn’t he? One way or another.’

‘Maybe. Who knows.’ Pru sipped at her glass.

‘Not us, I guess.’ Isabel looked at Pru. ‘It’s a shame Christopher couldn’t make it.’

‘Yes,’ Pru muttered, thinking the exact opposite. She didn’t know how she would have faced him in front of all these people.

‘I had high hopes for you two, you know.’

‘You weren’t the only one!’ Milly slapped the table with a plate laden with goodies and sat down to join them. ‘I thought I’d finally got her off my hands!’

‘Well, it just didn’t work out.’ Pru gave an insincere grin. ‘These things often don’t.’
Oh, but I wanted it to, I wanted it so badly. I loved him. I love him.

‘I have intentionally avoided the papers, Pru. I think your business should remain just that, and let’s face it, who among us hasn’t got a few tales rattling around in the back of the wardrobe. I know William certainly would have.’ Isabel looked over at Meg and Lucas. Pru gratefully acknowledged her acceptance. ‘It’s a shame though. You seemed very natural together. He seemed so happy.’

Pru fixed her smile again, trying to remain calm as her pulse raced and her heart ached at the wasted opportunity. Isabel wasn’t done. ‘He phoned me when you got back from Salcombe and he sounded full of the joys. I hadn’t heard him like that before. He said you had “raked the embers of his heart”, which was most poetic for an old pragmatist like Christopher. I thought it was quite beautiful.’

‘Will you excuse me?’ Pru almost ran to the loo, where she splashed her face with cold water and stared at her reflection. ‘You silly moo, Pru, get a grip. You’re sixty-six, not sixteen. Hiding in a loo with a broken heart! Come on, girl.’ She straightened up, reapplied her lip-gloss and brushed her hair. She wished for the first time that she had never met Christopher. It would have been easier. It was somehow worse to have been shown the prize and then had it snatched out of sight.

As she made her way back along the corridor, she stopped at the sound of a voice she recognised.
Oh dear God, please no, no!
But her God wasn’t listening. She looked through the kitchen door and there he was, being introduced to baby Lucas.

‘And this is your Great Uncle Christopher!’ Isabel scooped up the baby and plonked him in her brother’s arms.

‘Hello, little fella. How are you doing?’ He handled the baby awkwardly, embarrassed to be responsible for him, unsure if he was doing it right.

‘I thought you couldn’t make it?’ Isabel trilled.

‘I didn’t think I could, but I finished a little earlier than I expected and got my driver to take a detour, so here I am! Just a flying visit, but enough to say hello to Lucas.’

‘He’s happy to meet his Uncle Chris,’ Milly interjected, ‘aren’t you, darling boy?’ She leant in and kissed the baby in Christopher’s arms.

‘And you must be Meg?’ Christopher said.

Meg nodded; quiet, aware that she was being scrutinised.

‘He’s a lovely boy.’ Christopher smoothed Lucas’s tufty hair.

‘He is usually,’ Meg said, ‘but today he’s been dressed up like a girl!’

Christopher gave his ready laugh. ‘Yes, he has rather.’

‘I didn’t want him to wear that horrible frock, but Isabel insisted. I mean, who in their right mind would put a boy in that?’

‘Ah, I’m afraid that would be my mother’s fault. This was my christening gown originally.’

‘Oh shit, sorry.’ Meg grimaced. The champagne had more than loosened her tongue. ‘Hey, here’s Pru!’ she announced over his shoulder.

Christopher turned and the two stared at each other. It was an almost instinctive reflex: his face broke into a smile at the sight of her, which she returned.
‘There you are,’
he seemed to be saying. And just for a second it was as if there were just the two of them and they were happy to be in close proximity. Like it had been in Salcombe, lying on the beach, or holding hands across the console of the car.

Lucas squirmed and Christopher turned away to deal with the task in hand, concentrating on not dropping him. ‘I think you better have him back, I’m not used to babies!’ He laughed.

‘Not used to babies, but would have loved to have been a granddad,’ Pru murmured. She didn’t realise she’d said the words out loud.

Christopher turned to her as Lucas was lifted from his arms. ‘That’s right.’ He smiled. ‘Something else for me to lament in my old age.’

‘Oh yes, I’m sure. What else will you “lament”, as you put it? Telling my story to the world? Betraying my trust?’ These last words she whispered.

Christopher stepped forward and gripped her by the top of her arm. ‘Come on.’ He practically marched her out to the garden. Isabel, Milly and all present watched, the conversation lowered to a hush.

They walked at pace until they reached the edge of the lake, where they had spent that first glorious afternoon. Finally he released her arm and put his hands on his waist inside his suit jacket. ‘I tried to explain to you, that day in the park. I told you that it wasn’t my doing. There are a team of people that work on damage limitation and it was taken out of my hands.’

‘Damage limitation? Listen to yourself, Chris. I’m not one of your political hiccups, a piece of legislation or a debate, I’m a person! A person who has worked very hard her whole life, and your “team” could have taken all that away from me.’ She shook her head. ‘It might just be a salacious story for people to ogle over breakfast, but it’s so much more than that to me, Chris, it’s my life! My whole life laid bare!’

‘I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.’ He looked out towards the water.

‘What exactly are you sorry for? Sorry you hurt me? Sorry we ever met?’

He rounded on her quickly. ‘Sorry we ever met? I loved you! I thought we had a future. I was making plans, I—’

‘Making plans? Me too. But now I’m making different plans. I’m planning never to let anyone close to me like that again. Not that anyone would ever be interested, because I’m broken, aren’t I, Chris? And this is real life, not fucking gingerbread.’

Pru left him by the side of the lake and stalked back to the house. There was nothing more she wanted to say and nothing she wanted to hear. It was done.

Milly nipped out to the driveway and waited by Christopher’s chauffeur-driven car. She thought about the last time she had seen him, when she’d managed to get as far as the wide corridor in the Palace of Westminster, all decked out with oil paintings featuring pointy-nosed men sitting next to miserable-looking dogs. Christopher had come out to meet her.

‘I just got a call from the front desk. What on earth are you doing here?’ He was in full-on pompous work mode, and Milly wasn’t having any of it.

‘You look like shit, Christopher.’

He rubbed his hand over his face and carried on walking down the ornate corridor, which was tiled in pale greens, blues and gold. Milly had to trot to keep up.

‘Milly, lovely as it is to see you, I have a very busy day ahead, which doesn’t allow time for listening to how bad you think I look. And the state of my appearance is, incidentally, quite unconnected with how I am actually feeling, which – as anyone will tell you – is fine.’

‘Yes, so you say. Pru says the same thing; she says she’s fine, but she looks like shit as well, even though I tell her the opposite. She thinks I don’t know, but she routinely goes over to the park and leaves you cake parcels on the off chance you might saunter by and pick them up. Now that is nuts. Fine indeed!’ She shook her head.

‘I really can’t discuss this with you, Milly. Did Pru send you?’

‘Good God no! She’d kill me if she knew I was here. I’m just worried about you, Chris.’

They had stopped under a carved wooden arch that curved up to the church-like roof. Christopher seemed to be hiding from his colleagues.

‘That’s kind, but there really is no need.’ He had given Milly a brief, false smile and walked back to his office.

She wasn’t about to let him get away with that a second time. As he strode across the gravel, she stood squarely in front of the car door.

‘Oh no, Milly! Whatever you have to say, I haven’t got time to hear it.’ He raised his palm.

Milly folded her arms and leant back on the car. As if a raised palm would stop her. ‘Well you better make time, mister. I said I was worried about you – and I am. I’m worried that you are making the biggest mistake of your life. You are knocking seventy, you’re not twenty and neither is Pru. How much longer do you think you’ve got on the planet? Ten years? Twenty? That’s all, that’s it! This ain’t no rehearsal and you have to choose very carefully what you do with the time you have left. You were both lonely, then you found each other. And the way she was that night after she came back from meeting you here, down there by the dyed bloody swans…’ She pointed towards the lake. ‘I have never seen her look that way. Never. I think it’s rotten luck for you both that she needs to be punished for something she did over four decades ago, especially as she has been punishing herself ever since. I should know because I punish myself too. But here’s how it is: you can’t rewrite your past, no matter how much you want to. You can only make sure that the mistakes you made don’t define your future; you let yourself live. Otherwise, what’s the bloody point? What’s the point of any of it?’ She threw her arms in the air for added theatricality.