Knit One Pearl One (37 page)

“Why not?”

“He’s wonderful, in lots of ways, but he’s not a grown-up. And that’s what I want, a grown-up, someone who can fit in with our life, not dominate everything every bloody second. It would be just like Nick, only worse; he’d be popping in to pick up clean shirts and then he’d be off again.”

“Worse?”

“He’s a photographer, Ellen, surrounded by the world’s most gorgeous women, day in, day out. Think about it. But actually it’s not that, though that’s enough to put any sane woman right off the idea. It was a fling, Ellen, a moment that reminded me that I wasn’t just a mum, I mean not only a mum, I could have my own things too, a little secret interlude. I didn’t fall in love with him or anything, and it’s no use pretending I did. And he’s definitely not in love with me, whatever that means.”

“You know what it means, darling, and most of it is complete rubbish. He sets your pulse racing, he makes you laugh, he’s solvent, and he loves the kids. And you’d live nearer to me so we could have jaunts. It’s perfect. Look, don’t make your mind up until you see him. You never know, he might surprise you.”

“I’m sure he will, he’s always surprising me. But there’s no point pretending, Ellen. I love our life here, so do the kids, far too much to risk changing anything on a whim. And anyway, I already know.”

“Know what?”

“Know who he loves; it’s Pearl.”

“Sweetheart—”

“No Ellen, it’s true, and I’m fine with that, more than fine. She deserves that, of course she does.”

“Still, nice to be asked, darling?”

“Yes, although I’m still not sure what he’s asking, and neither is he. But nice, whatever it is.”

Actually, it’s not that nice; it’s unsettling and complicated, and there’s a tiny part of me that is half hoping it might be true, and we can all sail off into the sunset and play happy families while he flies round the world earning a fortune taking pictures before racing back home to us. But the trouble with being older and wiser: you know what makes you happy, and what makes your children happy.

It’s a total bugger.

I’ve just finished making supper and I’m having a quick cup of tea before I can face bath time, when Grace calls. She’s nearly six months pregnant now, although she doesn’t look it, and they’ve been busy filming in Northumberland, in a huge country house.

“How are you doing?”

“Rather brilliantly, darling, thank you. We’ve done most of the scenes where she’s got to have a tiny waist, thank God, and now we’re doing the newly married and up the duff bits.”

“That’s handy.”

She laughs.

“Why do you think I chose the script, darling? It’s looking very good, if I say so myself. There’s something about acting being pregnant when you actually are which is rather mesmerizing, and the clothes are beautiful, all pin-tucked cotton and thin muslin shifts, and silks. Beautiful and floating, they fit my mood perfectly.”

“And how’s the gorgeous Colin?”

The newspapers have been full of the usual silly stories about her and her costar.

“Gorgeous. And not quite as devoted to the wife as he’d have us all believe, but I never mix business with pleasure, you know that, darling.”

Actually, I know the exact opposite, but it’s never a good idea to disagree with the Diva.

“Anyway, I’ve run out of wool again, so can you sort it please? Urgently.”

Maxine has been texting me with snippets; and apparently in between flirting, Grace is knitting like a woman possessed.

“Max already put me on alert this morning, so there’s a courier delivering tomorrow. More of the baby cashmere and cotton, and some new patterns I thought you might like to see. But are you sure you’re not overdoing, Grace? You are taking rests and everything, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we’ve hired a nurse, who does my blood pressure, and everything is normal, so there’s quite enough fussing going on with Max and her without you joining in, thank you. Tell me all the news. Max says the town won a medal?”

“Yes, for the Best Seaside, everyone’s thrilled.”

“And?”

“Not much else really. We survived the school holidays, we had a couple of days in Devon, with Daniel Fitzgerald actually, and now they’re back at school and I’ve ended up with a knit-a-Nativity project, so that’s a bit worrying.”

She laughs. “So he’s finally spent some proper time with Pearl. Good for him, not a total loser then after all. And?”

“Sorry?”

“How much time did you spend with the lovely Mr. Fitzgerald, one-on-one?”

“Grace, I don’t.”

“Don’t try to kid me, darling. I know him. There’s no way he’d be able to resist his very own Madonna and Child. You know he’s not good enough for you, don’t you? He might show some potential on the father front, I can see that, and he’d be mad not to, she’s such a poppet. But he’s nowhere near ready for anything else.”

“You mean if I turned up on his doorstep, with the kids, and said, Right, here we are, he’d have the mother of all panic attacks and be on a flight before I’d even got the bags out of the car?”

“Exactly. Good for you, darling, I always forget how sensible you are.”

“Can I ask you something? And be honest. If I was, well, more like you. Beautiful and—”

“Please don’t, darling, or you’ll have me in tears. I’m very tearful at the moment, the slightest thing can set me off, it must be all those fucking hormones. But if you were the most beautiful woman in the universe, it would still be the same. And by the way, nobody is ever as perfect as they want to be, ever. That way lies total madness.”

“I sort of knew that, I just wanted to ask.”

“You’re way out of his league, darling.”

“I know, I just—”

“No, you idiot, you’re way above his league. You play for real; he’s still stuck in the imaginary world of beautiful light and getting the perfect shot. Trust me, I know the type, I’m pretty similar myself, although I’d never admit to it. But you’re more real than that. You just have to look at your kids to know that.”

“What a lovely thing to say.”

“My pleasure. It happens to be true. And anyway, I don’t want to lose my knitting coach.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you when we’re back.”

“Lovely.”

“And darling?”

“Yes Grace.”

“Tell him to watch his fucking step from me, okay?”

“Sure.”

The boys come home from school on Thursday with some sort of mystery bug, so I have to race home early from my Stitch and Bitch group to rescue Gran from Archie, who always makes a huge fuss at the slightest sniffle. They spend the whole of Friday whining and moaning with slight temperatures and lots of coughing and sneezing, and then annoyingly perk up on Saturday, once they’re sure it’s not a school morning, whereas I feel like death warmed up. Archie brings me up a wet flannel, and a cup of tea made with cold water, which is obviously delicious, and then asks me if he and Jack can make pancakes. I can’t actually think of anything better designed to get a sick mother belting downstairs than the prospect of two small boys flipping pancakes in a red-hot frying pan and filling the kitchen with smoke. I’ve been waiting for the cavalry to arrive in the form of Gran, with soup, for what seems like hours, but it’s Martin who arrives, wearing his tragic anorak and looking completely filthy.

“I’m sorry to turn up like this, I’ve just been down to the boat to check everything was okay and Trevor got a bit excited.”

He looks like he’s been dragged through quite a lot of mud, which, knowing Trevor, he probably has.

“Where is he?”

“Dad took him home to wash him; he’s in no state to go visiting.”

He’s grinning. “Mum will go nuts when she finds out. Anyway, can I come in?”

“Of course, sorry.”

Bugger. I’m feeling worse and worse, but I can hardly let him in and then crawl upstairs and collapse, he’ll think I’m making a point. So we sit in the kitchen, and he doesn’t appear to notice that I’m still in my dressing gown and constantly sneezing while I make the tea.

“I am very sorry, you know, about the last time we spoke.”

“It’s fine, Martin.”

“I just don’t want to be dull old dependable Martin. I’m not a total pushover, you know.”

I look at him, and he grins. “I might not be around forever, you know.”

“Where are you going then?”

“I don’t know, I might go somewhere on the boat.”

We both smile.

“I realize I need to make more of an effort, with us I mean, our relationship.”

“I don’t think it should be an effort, Martin.”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think we should spend more time together; we could have a rota or something, make sure we go away for a weekend occasionally. Once I get the barn sorted, we can spend some of our time there too. We could write a list of things we want to do, places we’d like to visit, and then make sure we do them.”

Great, another bloody list.

I pour the tea and hand him his cup.

“Thanks. I think we need to make more of an effort, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

Actually, the only effort I can make at the moment is to stay sitting upright, but he’s oblivious.

“I do know what you mean, Martin.”

“Do you? That’s great; because I’m not sure I’m explaining it very well. Anyway, I should be able to get loads done on the barn when this job’s finally finished. I’ve earned a fortune in overtime.”

“That’s good.”

He starts telling me all about the plans for underfloor heating at the barn, and I can see he’s so relieved we’re back on what I’m sure he’d call an even keel given his newly found passion for nautical terminology that I haven’t got the heart to stop him. Not that I want to. I just don’t want to feel like we’re back in a rut. But I’ll have to talk to him about it another day, because I’m feeling on the point of hallucinating when Gran finally makes him leave and marches me back up to bed, with hot lemon and lots of lovely tablets. I catch sight of myself in the mirror on my chest of drawers and realize that I have a bright red nose, and my eyes are all puffy. So that’s rather mortifying. But at least the upside of Martin being a tiny bit oblivious to normal social signals is that it doesn’t matter if you happen to look like the dong with the luminous nose when he pops round for a chat. I’m still confused about Daniel, and whether I should be telling Martin about Devon, or if it doesn’t count since we weren’t technically seeing each other then, what with him being off in a megastrop. Maybe when the room stops spinning and I’ve had a sleep, it will all become clear to me.

Or possibly not.

I’m still feeling shaky on Sunday, but less feverish and tragic, not least because Gran has insisted on practically moving in with Reg and making me stop in bed all day. Just one more reason why I can’t imagine how I’d ever cope without her. She’s downstairs making egg and chips for supper; she sent Reg home for her chip pan earlier on. The boys are thrilled, and so am I. Egg and chips was our favorite supper when Vin and I used to come to stay with her for our summer holidays.

Jack comes up, holding the phone.

“It’s Daniel, Mum.”

“Oh, right. Thanks love.”

He races back downstairs to keep an eye on the progress of the chips.

“Hello Daniel.”

“I gather chips are on the menu.”

“Yes, we’re all thrilled.”

“So I gathered. Well, save some for me. We might be down near you next week. I’ll nip in and see Queenie if that’s okay, for that job where we were looking at locations near you the last time I visited. The one that was on, then off, then back on again.”

I know the feeling.

“How’s it going, angel?”

“Crap, to be honest. I’ve had a horrible cold, I’ve still got it, actually. I look like the dong with the luminous nose, and I feel like it too.”

“Had any thoughts about moving up to town?”

He’s sounding nervous now. And I know, without him saying anything, that he’s changing his mind, he’s less keen on the idea now. And I don’t even really mind.

“Yes. I’ve put the house on the market, but I’ve been thinking, and we should get married before we move in, don’t you think?”

He’s silent, but I’m sure I can hear him panicking.

“I’m joking, Daniel.”

“Christ, you had me going there.”

“So do I take it you’ve started to go off the idea? Be honest, Daniel.”

“Maybe a little. Is that okay, angel?”

“Of course. You were never going to want to settle down, with a ready-made family and a middle-aged woman with creaking knees.”

“I like your knees.”

“Daniel.”

“Well I might not have entirely got it out of my system, this wandering-around-the-world thing. Not entirely. I might not be ready to totally embrace family life, in all its glory. But I want to be a proper dad.”

“Yes, and I’m all for that, you know I am, as long as you don’t keep appearing and disappearing, and making her feel insecure. Because if you muck her about, I’ll have to kill you.”

He laughs. “Yes, but are you sure?”

“We’re not just talking about Pearl, it’s me and the boys too, and that’s quite a lot of pressure for one little girl. And anyway, I think we’re worth more than that, Daniel.”

“More than what?”

“More than living together. Because we like each other, and you love Pearl.”

“I love you too, angel, I really do. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t. You’re so real.”

“I know, and I love you too, but it’s not real life. And when I’m even more real, in ten years’ time? Can I ask you something Daniel?”

“Sure.”

“How many women do you think you’ve had flings with, over the past ten years?”

“I don’t know, angel, honestly. A few.”

“And how many in the next ten years, if you were living with someone real and the kids were teenagers, and being, well, teenagers? How many models and bright young things would have moments in Venice, or Devon, or pretty much anywhere?”

“I don’t know, angel. I’d try, I really would, but—”

“I’m not trying to catch you out. It’s fine, but it’s not the way I want to live. I’ve already done that with Nick. I don’t want to feel second best, or feel that the thing you love most about me is my daughter.”