The Day Of Second Chances (15 page)

On Monday she had to sit next to Harry Smug Carter in Maths, trying to ignore his smirks in her direction. Lydia bent her head and concentrated more on maths than she ever had before.

She'd listened to it all the way to school: what an amazing kisser Harry Carter was, what beautiful eyes Harry Carter had, how Avril and Harry Carter had got Ellie Jacobs who was in the sixth form to buy them cans of cider and how they'd held hands while they were drinking them. How Harry Carter liked The Clash which was so cool, and how they both really loved the Transformers films which was an incredible coincidence. Also,
again
, what an amazing kisser Harry Carter was and how he'd asked to meet up after school, too.

Lydia didn't get a word in. She didn't dare to get a word in. But Avril didn't seem to notice; she skipped on her long legs with the rolled-down socks and the rolled-up skirt, everything about her so familiar it made Lydia's entire body ache.

On Saturday when Lydia had left her, she'd been curled up in a chair staring at the telly, drawn and worried about her mum. And now she was lighter than air, about to burst with excitement, and Lydia had nothing to do with it.

She felt something strike her arm and looked over. ‘Jealous?' Harry mouthed to her, raising his eyebrows.

Jealous enough to kill you with a stare, you son of a bitch.
She rolled her eyes at him and went back to her equations, calculating instead what he had meant.

She didn't trust him. Harry Carter was a snake. He couldn't possibly love Avril, not someone like him.

The next lesson was Geography, and they had a mock which meant they had to write quietly for the entire time whilst Mr Graham walked between their desks. She didn't have any time to speak to Avril before he passed the papers out. Avril used to have a bit of a crush on Mr Graham but she hardly even glanced at him today. When Lydia looked over, she was staring into space with this silly expression on her face, as if she were on some sort of drug. When Lydia tried to force herself to write, nonsense flowed out of her pen onto the page.

Mr Graham made them write right up to the bell. Avril was so slow, ridiculously slow, getting her things together. ‘How's your mum?' Lydia whispered to her, and Avril shook her head.

‘Was she OK yesterday?' Lydia continued anyway, in a low voice when they got out into the corridor, because even though Avril didn't want to talk about it, Lydia did. She wanted to remind Avril that they had secrets together. That Lydia was the person she trusted, the one she could turn to when things went wrong. ‘Did she tell you what happened?'

‘It was nothing, all right? No big deal.'

‘You say that, but I know you were worried.'

Avril turned on her angrily. ‘I said, no big deal.' Her phone went off in her handbag and she dug it out, walking faster than Lydia. Lydia caught up with her in time to see Avril's delight when she read the text.

At lunchtime, for once, Lydia picked at her food as much as Erin and Sophie. Avril wasn't eating either. The only consolation was that she'd not yet told the other girls about her and Harry. But was that worse, that Avril was keeping it a happy secret? She kept sneaking glances to the other end of the dining hall, where Harry was sitting with his mates, laughing. Probably about Avril. How easily Harry had bagged her.

A ball of misery rose into Lydia's throat.

And this was only the start of it. Only the start of a lifetime when Lydia would have to swallow her silly dreams and watch Avril with other people whom she loved more than she loved Lydia. This wasn't what love was supposed to be like. You weren't supposed to lose everyone.

Harry glanced up from his conversation with his mates, searching out Avril. He raised his hand and Avril came to life. She jumped up and scurried over to join him.

Erin's mouth was open. ‘What's going on with Avril and Harry?'

‘Nothing,' said Lydia.

‘Clearly it's something. Don't you know? Aren't you two like joined at the hip?'

Lydia screwed up her sandwich wrapper and began tearing it into pieces.

‘Wow, she's like his lapdog,' said Olivia, and for once, Lydia agreed with her.

‘Did they get off with each other?' Erin asked. ‘You must know.'

‘I don't want to talk about it,' Lydia snapped before she could think, before she could plan what wouldn't give her away.

‘Oooh,' tittered Sophie. ‘You're jealous, aren't you? Wishing you hadn't blown your chance with him?'

‘Is it all right if I sit here?'

It was Bailey, the new girl, addressing herself to Lydia. The other girls stopped talking and stared. Bailey's hair was still naff, and she still wore the ankle socks, but at least this time her lunch consisted of a salad and a yogurt, instead of the glop she'd had before.

‘What I mean is,' said Bailey, ‘is this seat taken?'

It was Avril's seat.

‘I won't talk to you or anything if you don't want me to,' Bailey added. ‘I just need somewhere to sit and eat.'

It was that, the offer not to talk, the straight-out acknowledgement that she didn't fit in and that she was resigned to it, that got Lydia. She moved Avril's books to one side, clearing the table space for Bailey. ‘Knock yourself out,' she said.

Erin leaned over. ‘She's got a crush on youuu,' she crooned into Lydia's ear. Lydia rolled her eyes.

Across the dining hall, she heard the silvery sound of Avril's laughter.

‘
I SPY, WITH
my little eye, something that is green.'

‘Tree!'

‘No.'

‘Flower!' Oscar hung onto the side of the buggy, jumping up and down. Iris was asleep and had been for twenty minutes, having exhausted herself with a tantrum in Waitrose. Oscar was still full of beans, and Jo was hopeful that maybe she'd actually get the shopping done without another meltdown from him, too.

She hadn't slept much last night. Mostly she was worrying about Honor, but around three o'clock, the old thoughts had started coming back, the same ones she'd had for ten years now in the middle of the night. It was always worse in the spring. In the end, she'd got up and made herself a cup of chamomile tea and read her book until nearly dawn.

She suppressed a yawn. ‘Flowers aren't green, Oscar.'

‘That one's green!' He pointed at one of the planters in the middle of the shopping precinct.

‘That's not a flower, sweetie, that's a fern.'

‘Fern!'

‘Nope. Keep looking.'

‘Apple!'

Jo looked around. ‘Where's an apple?'

‘In my mind!'

‘Things that are in your mind don't count, sweetie. They have to be things that you can really see.'

‘Grass!'

‘You're getting warmer.' Oscar looked confused, so Jo explained, ‘It means that the thing you're looking for is really near the grass.'

Oscar stopped walking, peering hard at the patch of grass beside the fabric shop. Jo mentally ticked off her list: Waitrose done; key cutters next to get a set made for Honor, which would be fine because Oscar liked poking at all the keys on display; library last because Iris might have woken up by then and even though she woke up cranky, Oscar would look at books so that Jo could give Iris a cuddle. The library had a toilet too, and baby-changing facilities.

Her shopping trips these days were always zig-zags around the precinct, visiting the shops in the optimal order to keep the children happy and interested. She always had to do the supermarket first, whilst the children were still fresh, because that's where tempers would fray: where Oscar would ask for sweets he couldn't have, and Iris would decide it was fun to grab items off the shelf at toddler pushchair height and throw them onto the floor. If the kids were relatively happy and not bored yet, they could get through those hurdles without too much trouble.

Of course this meant that if she wanted anything frozen, she'd have to come back at the end of her shopping trip, too, so it wouldn't melt whilst she ran her other errands. She hadn't quite worked out a way around this yet, other than getting Lydia to look after her siblings whilst Jo went to do the shopping on her own. Even without children, Jo caught herself planning her route to avoid the rows of sweets, positioning her trolley more than a small arm's reach away from the heavy cans.

Sometimes she saw couples doing their weekly shop together with their children. They ran interference for each other, one distracting the children whilst the other found items on the shelves. She remembered doing this with Stephen. He used to make illustrated lists for Lydia, so she could tick off items as they went into the trolley.

‘Bin!' cried Oscar.

‘The bins are black,' said Jo, looking at the nearest bin to make sure, and seeing Marcus from next door walking across the precinct. He wore a white shirt and a green tie, sleeves rolled up, and he was holding a canvas shopping bag. He smiled when he spotted her, raised his hand, and changed his course to approach her. Jo scrubbed at her eyes quickly, as if she could get rid of the shadows under them.

‘Hello!' he called. ‘How are you doing, neighbour?'

‘Fine,' answered Jo, irrationally pleased that he'd gone out of his way to greet her, irrationally disappointed that he'd evidently forgotten her name. ‘How are you, Marcus?'

He held up his canvas bag. ‘On a lunch break from work. I've been sent out to replenish the tea bags and the biscuits. Don't judge me because of the bag.'

It was pink, with daisies on it. ‘I wouldn't dream of it.'

‘That's a relief.' He squatted down to eye-level with Oscar. ‘Hello there, I live next door to you. I think I've seen your trucks in your garden.'

‘I love trucks,' said Oscar. ‘I have eighty million of them.'

‘That is impressive.'

‘This is Oscar,' said Jo, ‘and the one asleep in the pushchair is Iris. Oscar, this is our neighbour, Mr …?'

‘Marcus is fine. Nice to meet you, Oscar.' Marcus held out his hand solemnly and Oscar shook it, up and down, one-two.

‘I didn't know he knew how to do that,' Jo said.

‘A nice, firm handshake. A good thing to have.' Marcus straightened up, smiling. Even though he wore more formal clothes than when she'd seen him before, his hair was still dishevelled, as if he'd forgotten to brush it before he went to work, or as if he'd been running his fingers through it. ‘What's your mission, then, Jo?' he asked, and Jo felt a burst of joy that he had remembered her name, after all. This young man who probably wasn't ten years older than her own daughter.

‘I have a very exciting schedule of the key cutter and then the library. We've already been to Waitrose to try to find something that will tempt my mother-in-law to eat.'

‘Ah. Mother-in-laws are tricky, I hear. Haven't got one, myself.'

His face was clean-shaven today, and there was a small mole on his cheek, the only flaw in his smooth skin. Jo tried to bring herself back to the moment.

‘Honor's staying with us for a bit whilst she recovers. She's had to have hip replacement surgery. She's not the easiest person to live with.'

This was an understatement. Honor had barely said a word since she'd been installed in Lydia's former room the day before. She ate nearly none of the Sunday roast that Jo had cooked and went to her room before the children were in bed, refusing all offers of hot drinks or help. Jo had heard her still shuffling around behind the closed door at eleven, when she'd gone up herself.

This morning, Honor had been up before Jo had come downstairs with the children. Jo had found the kettle hot and a plate with toast crumbs in the sink.

‘She doesn't really want to spend any time with us,' Jo heard herself saying. ‘She stays shut up in her room. She doesn't even look at you directly – she sort of stares over your shoulder all the time, even when she's speaking to you. As if eye-contact is too much trouble.'

‘Sounds like most teenagers I know.'

Jo laughed, as much because of his sunny grin as what he'd said. ‘I don't know what to think,' she confessed. ‘On the one hand, it's great that Honor's settled in so quickly and that she feels confident enough in the house to look after herself. On the other hand … I'd sort of hoped that we'd be behaving like a family.'

‘What does your husband say?'

‘Oh, he's—Honor is the mother of my first husband, who passed away.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be, it was a long time ago.' Jo thought about her moment in Honor's room yesterday, looking at the photograph; the moment in Waitrose just now, watching the couple. Lying in bed awake last night. She hurried on. ‘I had Oscar and Iris with my second husband.'

‘He must be very special to put up with a mother-in-law who isn't even his.'

‘He doesn't have to put up with her. We're divorced.'

‘Oh.'

He didn't add anything, or do anything, just stood there politely. Because she'd been stupid enough to basically tell him in the middle of the shopping precinct, with her two kids in tow, for heaven's sake, that she was single and available.

‘So about …' he began at last.

‘Anyway,' she interrupted, before he could say he needed to get going, make his excuses and embarrass her further, ‘I'm sure that you don't want to hear my entire history in the—'

‘Streetlamp!' yelled Oscar.

They both looked at the little boy, who was jumping up and down and pointing at a streetlamp in the middle of the patch of grass as if it were the most exciting thing in the world.

‘What's that, mate?' said Marcus.

‘Streetlamp! The streetlamp is green, Mummy, is that it?'

‘Yes, it is, darling! I Spy,' she explained to Marcus.

‘Your turn!' said Oscar, turning to Marcus. ‘You guess!'