The Great Escape (21 page)

‘Sure,’ Barney says, taking a fortifying gulp of his beer. At least Pete will no longer be able to dissect his marriage, he reflects, as the girls perch on the seats and fuss over Milo and Dylan.

‘So how d’you two know each other?’ Pete asks, looking from Barney to Magda.

‘We don’t really,’ Magda explains with another sweet smile. ‘We were just chatting earlier in the café where I work.’

‘Where are you from, Madga?’ Pete asks, putting on his
terribly-interested-in-you
voice.

‘I’m from Poland, Amy’s from Leeds …’ She smiles. ‘And you?’

‘Oh, I’m a north London boy, same as Barney,’ Pete says, triggering a flurry of nostalgia in Barney’s stomach. They’re chatting about the girls’ photography course now – that’s how they met and became friends. Barney slips into the background, lifting Milo, then Dylan, out of the buggy and onto his lap, whilst marvelling at how speedily Pete zooms back and forth from the bar to buy the girls more drinks, and how easily he’s slipped into conversation with them. They’re so young – early twenties at most – a couple of students with part-time jobs. Yet the way Pete is chatting away, anyone would think they had acres of common ground.

‘So how about you two?’ Magda wants to know. ‘How d’you know each other?’

‘We’re old schoolmates,’ Pete explains. ‘That’s – God – a
scarily
long time ago …’

‘Noooo,’ Madga says. ‘Not that long ago.’

Pete smirks. ‘It was, trust me, and he was the brainy one, getting all the grades while I got kinda distracted.’ He shrugs flamboyantly in a ‘what can you do?’ way. ‘I messed up. I’m just the dumb friend.’

‘I’m sure you’re not, Pete,’ Amy says, touching his knee. What Pete’s doing now, Barney realises, is playing the lovable klutz. He’s witnessed this tactic before. For a brief period in his mid-twenties, Barney went out with a girl who pretended she couldn’t operate a screwdriver, just because she thought it was cute.

‘But you’ve done so well,’ Amy adds, removing her hand, ‘with your wine business and everything.’ Barney glances down at his T-shirt. There’s a yellow blob near the neck where Dylan spat his lunch at him.

‘Well, y’know …’ Another of Pete’s self-deprecating shrugs. ‘Anyway, shall we have one for the road, Barney? What d’you think?’

‘Better not,’ Barney says quickly, having declined the last round. ‘I really should get these little men home.’ Carefully, and overwhelmingly grateful that they don’t howl in protest, he places his children back into their buggy.

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Magda says lightly.

‘Well,
you
could stay out a bit longer, Pete,’ Barney adds, hoping he doesn’t sound like his dad.

‘Are you staying at Barney’s tonight?’ Amy asks.

‘Yeah. Listen, I’ll just come back with you,’ Pete says, a trace of reluctance in his voice.

Barney is up on his feet, gripping the buggy handles expectantly. It’s almost half eight, the family with teenagers have gone, and yellowy lanterns have been switched on among the flowers in the horse troughs. The beer garden has taken on a decidedly evening feel. ‘Well, we’ll leave you girls to it,’ he says with a broad smile.

‘Thanks for the drinks,’ Magda beams at Pete. ‘And nice to see you again, Barney.’

‘Nice to see you too.’ Barney is eager to leave now, to get his babies bathed and tucked up in their cots and for all to be right with the world.

‘Pete,’ Amy calls after them, ‘we’re doing a photo shoot tomorrow, just pictures around the village for Magda’s assignment. D’you both fancy coming along?’

‘I’d love to,’ Pete enthuses. ‘I’m really interested in photography.’

‘Are you?’ Barney looks at him incredulously.

‘Yeah. It’s something I’ve been getting into recently …’

Barney makes a peculiar noise at the back of his throat. ‘Since when?’

‘Since …’ Pete shrugs. ‘Just
lately
, that’s all.’

‘Right. Since you got your new iPhone.’

With a roll of his eyes, Pete turns his attention back to the girls. ‘Well,
I’d
like to come. It’ll be interesting …’

‘Might pick up some new techniques,’ Barney murmurs with a snigger.

Magda smiles brightly. ‘What about you, Barney? Are you free tomorrow?’

‘Well, not really,’ he blusters. ‘I’ve got the kids …’ He indicates them sitting contentedly in their buggy, as if Magda might have forgotten who his kids are.

‘Oh, the babies will be fine,’ Magda insists. ‘It’s all outdoors, they’ll enjoy it and it won’t take too long …’

‘Love to,’ Pete cuts in eagerly. ‘C’mon, Barney, we’re not doing anything else tomorrow, are we?’ Barney shakes his head mutely, imagining Sadie’s stern gaze shooting all the way down from Glasgow.

‘Great,’ Amy says warmly. ‘Around eleven, by the lake in the park?’

‘Sure.’ Pete grins. ‘See you then.’ Barney forces a smile, and as they turn to leave he glances anxiously around the beer garden to see if any of these watchful village types have been paying attention to their exchange.
Not that I’m doing anything wrong
, he reminds himself firmly, steering the buggy out through the gate and towards the sanctuary of home, where he plans to salvage whatever tattered fragments he can from the kids’ bedtime routine.

THIRTY

Sadie, Hannah and Lou have been installed in the low-lit bar opposite their hotel for less than half an hour, and already Sadie has confessed that she and Barney have had sex only once since she was six months pregnant. She glances down at her shoes. They’re not flat, battered Hissingham Park pumps with half the sparkles fallen off, or even marginally smarter coffee-morning shoes. They’re Sexy Sadie shoes – patent beauties with precarious four-inch heels. ‘I’m sure it’s normal,’ Hannah says. ‘You’re knackered, you don’t have the time. It’s like your priorities have changed. Things’ll get easier when the babies are a bit older …’

‘… Like at university,’ she says with a wry grin. ‘Oh, you’re probably right. It’s just that other mums seem to manage it.’ She does this a lot these days; says ‘mums’ instead of ‘women’.

Sadie smiles, catching the eye of a tall, dark-haired man with glasses who’s standing in a small group by the bar. ‘Well,’ Hannah adds, ‘it sounds completely normal to me, not feeling like throwing yourself around the bedroom …’

‘You’re saying normal a lot,’ Sadie says with a grin. ‘D’you think we are normal, the three of us? For our age, I mean? When we were in Garnet Street, I always thought we’d have everything sorted out by now. Thirty-five seemed so old!’

‘I thought I’d have a roof terrace,’ Lou murmurs, ‘and my jewellery would be stocked at Liberty, and Spike and me would have made lots of beautiful babies. What about you, Han? Did you think you’d be married by now?’

‘Maybe not the married part,’ Hannah says thoughtfully, ‘but when I used to think about the kind of man I’d like to end up with, not the Marcs of this world but the one who was really
meant
for me …’ She pauses, looking up from her glass. ‘He was like Ryan. He really was. When I met him, there was none of the usual game playing or that time-wasting stuff and … well, it was as if he’d been there for me all along.’

Lou frowns and pushes back hair from her eyes. ‘What about Daisy and Josh, though? How are you going to deal with that?’

Hannah shrugs. ‘I suppose it’s pretty common for kids to hate their prospective stepmother. Maybe that’s just going to be part of getting married.’

Sadie pauses. Outside, the street is thronging with smart couples and large, sprawly groups of students. The bar is packed, and the man in glasses keeps glancing over. Sadie’s wine has topped up the effects of Felix’s champagne, and she wonders, wildly, what’s making the three of them so keen to convince each other that everything’s all right. Why has Lou sacrificed her jewellery-making to work at Let’s Bounce and keep a man who barely has the energy to scratch his own arse? And why should Hannah put up with Josh and Daisy’s hostility? Perhaps this weekend, as well as being their great escape, is their chance to figure out what they need to do when they get home. ‘I think we should make a rule,’ Sadie blurts out.

‘What kind of rule?’ Hannah asks.

‘An honesty rule. A sort of truth or dare …’

‘I’m
not
running down Buchanan Street naked,’ Lou declares.

‘No, not that kind of dare,’ Sadie laughs. ‘I mean, we’re only here for two days, right? And the three of us haven’t been together like this since … when?’

‘Your wedding,’ Lou murmurs.

‘Yeah. And that was four years ago. So I think, as we’re here, we should start telling each other exactly how we feel and stop all this pretending.’

‘You start then,’ Hannah says with a grin. ‘You tell us what you’re thinking about now, apart from that man in glasses who keeps looking at you …’

‘What man in—’

‘She hasn’t noticed!’ Hannah sniggers to Lou.

‘Okay,’ Sadie laughs, ‘I sort of registered him, but here’s the really sad thing. I’m not thinking about whoever might happen to be looking because I’m wondering whether Barney’s used up my breast milk, which he’s meant to keep for emergencies, and if he’s tried to put them down to bed too early to get some peace and quiet and they won’t settle …’ She tails off. ‘
And
I think my breast pad’s leaking.’

‘Can’t see anything,’ Lou reassures her.

‘So you reckon it’s a national state of emergency in Little Hissingham tonight?’ Hannah asks.

‘Yes. No, not really. Now I’m thinking he’s taken the boys out this afternoon, and got chatting to some gorgeous young single mother who thought, ‘‘Oooh, look at him, managing all by himself with those babies …’’’

‘You’re insane,’ Lou laughs, shaking her head.

‘I know. I’m just a power freak, Lou. I rule Barney with a rod of iron, poor sod, and I’m paranoid …’

‘Me too,’ Lou cuts in. ‘You know what? One time, a couple of weeks ago now, Spike was ill with some kind of terrible gastric flu – well, a cold really – and I thought I could smell something off him.’

‘What kind of smell?’ Hannah asks.

Lou shrugs. ‘Kind of … sweet. Vanilla-ish. Like … body lotion or something.’

‘You don’t think he’s up to anything, do you?’ Hannah cuts in.

‘No. No! God, he wouldn’t have the energy. And he’s, like … forty-eight …’ Hannah gives her a look. ‘I know,’ Lou adds quickly, ‘that forty-eight-year-old men have affairs, of course they do. It’s not like there’s an age restriction …’

‘You don’t think Spike is, though,’ Sadie adds.

Lou shakes her head. ‘No, I don’t. It’s just me being silly … anyway, guess what he’s doing this weekend …’

‘Playing a gig?’ Sadie suggests.

‘No. Staying home to write his CV!’

Hannah and Sadie burst into peals of laughter. ‘Well. God,’ Hannah exclaims, ‘maybe this weekend’s going to do him good. You know – shake him up a bit …’

‘And maybe Barney’ll realise that looking after the babies basically involves walking around the park about eight million times,’ Sadie adds, ‘and when I get home, he’ll have put that gloomy little cottage on the market and found us a lovely flat.’

‘Closer to London, you mean?’ Hannah asks.

‘Yes, like actually
in
it.’ Sadie kicks off the shoe that’s pinching her. ‘You know what, though? I feel better already. Just being here, I mean. Escaping for a bit.’

Lou nods firmly. ‘Me too. And maybe I’ll resign from that crappy job when I get back.’

‘And start making jewellery again?’ Sadie asks. ‘Could you make enough money doing that?’

‘Well,’ she says, grinning, ‘I doubt it, I mean we’d probably starve, but at least I’d die happy …’

‘What about you, Han?’ Sadie asks, turning to face her. ‘What about you and Ryan’s kids?’

‘Erm …’ Hannah places her glass on the table. ‘That’s kind of tricky.’

‘Can’t Ryan do something about it?’ Lou asks.

‘He could, I suppose, but they went through hell when Petra left and I don’t think he’s prepared to do or say anything to rock the boat.’

Sadie reaches across the table to squeeze Hannah’s hand. ‘So … where does that leave you? I mean, you’re marrying him, Han …’

‘Oh, it’s not that I don’t want to be with Ryan,’ Hannah declares. ‘I just don’t want to be with him the way we are, in that house. I could move out, get a little flat … we could even still get married, but live separately like Helena Bonham Carter and her man, the film guy …’

‘Tim Burton,’ offers Sadie.

‘Yeah, like them …’

‘Or Woody Allen and Mia Farrow,’ Lou suggests.

‘But they split up,’ Sadie reminds her.

‘That’s because he started sleeping with her adopted daughter,’ Hannah points out.

‘Well, you could get your own place,’ Sadie offers. ‘I know it’s not exactly conventional, and your parents might think it’s a bit weird, but if it means having some distance from those horrible kids …’

‘You know what?’ Hannah says. ‘They’re not actually horrible. They’re just horribly …
normal.
’

‘Like us,’ Sadie says with a grin.

‘We’re
so
normal,’ Lou agrees.

‘Let’s get some cocktails,’ Sadie insists, ‘and toast our complete and utter normalness.’

‘If we’re going to have cocktails,’ Hannah says, ‘d’you fancy trying Felix’s bar?’

‘Yeah, maybe we’ll get them on the house?’ Lou suggests.

‘Great idea,’ Sadie says, forgetting her breast pad and even her babies for a moment as she throws her arms around her friends and hugs them as tightly as she possibly can.

THIRTY-ONE

Spike and Père Magloire are getting along great. He’s never imagined being friends with some craggy old bloke in a robe and a nightcap, but now he feels like they’ve established a strong rapport. There had been a couple of inches out of the bottle when he discovered it, lurking behind Lou’s cereals, and now there’s only a quarter of the bottle left. That’s the thing with quality booze, he reflects. You can enjoy yourself with no unpleasant consequences – which is the kind of set-up he thought he had with Astrid. But never mind her. Père Magloire is doing a sterling job of making him feel much better about all that. A distant memory causes Spike to smile – of him, similarly desperate for drink in Lou’s Garnet Street flat, and unearthing a bottle even dustier than this one and straining it through her tights. He definitely has a talent for squirrelling out long-forgotten booze. Maybe he should put
that
on his CV.