The Other Half of My Heart (18 page)

‘I loathed my brother and sister,' Fran says, looking up. ‘You and Sam are a revelation to me.' She goes back to her list. ‘And we're still picking up your parents, is that right? And Sam can come with us? I'll put his name down for the coach home, in case he wants to stay longer than we do. I assume you'll come with Roddy in his car?'

‘I think that's the plan.' Tick.

‘And you're staying over at the Coach and Horses?' Fran is working through her list, her questions not really questions, and so Tina hates to interrupt.

‘I don't know anything about that.'

‘Oh. Well. We always get a couple of complimentary rooms. Fred and I used to stay over, but I'm going to drive this year. Edward and Arabella are having the other room. I asked Roddy if the two of you would want it.'

‘He hasn't mentioned it to me.' Why wouldn't he want her to spend the night with him? Was he keeping his options open? Has he changed his mind about her? He would want to tell her that he was ending their relationship in person: he would consider doing it on the phone dishonourable. Tina takes a deep breath, tells herself to stop. She knows she's being ridiculous.

Fran is continuing as though Tina hasn't said a word. ‘Last year there were a couple of things that didn't go very well, and so I need to make sure there's at least one clear head among us. So it makes sense for us to drive back. Do you remember last year?'

Tina remembers the yard tales of a joker lacing the nonalcoholic punch with something very definitely not non-alcoholic, and an argument that ended in, depending on who you listened to, either a broken earring or a torn earlobe, with or without an accompanying fistful of bloodied hair. ‘I wasn't there last year,' she says.

‘Oh, of course not,' Fran says, matter-of-factly. She is very unlike Tina's own mother, who can imagine nothing better than a party, people and noise and dressing-up. ‘The bits I'll like most tonight will be talking to the people I haven't seen in a while, our former staff who have grown up and moved on, and I could do that just as happily in my jeans in this kitchen. And for you young ones, if you're not part of the in-crowd, well …'

‘I know,' Tina says. She had never been to a Flood Ball because she knew she'd stand on the sidelines there as much as she did in the yard. Even though, as one of the staff, she was always invited, the thought of spending her wages on a dress that made her feel awkward and shoes that would hurt her feet hadn't appealed. But this year she would be with Roddy, and because Roddy was there she thought she might enjoy it. So long as there's not too much Aurora; so long as her worst fears aren't realized. She breathes deeply again.

To turn her thoughts away from the Roddy/Flood Ball stories that had filled the yard on the morning after, over the years, she asks, ‘What are you wearing?'

‘God knows,' Fran says. ‘I'll probably be going in my jeans at this rate.'

And then there's a familiar sound in the driveway. Tina never thought she would be able to identify the sound of one particular car, but the rumble of Roddy's Cosworth is unmistakable. She and Fran look at each other, jump to their feet, as though they are children who just heard sleighbells on the roof.

The first thing Tina notices is how tanned Roddy is. He gets out of the car and stretches his arms above his head, and where the arms of his T-shirt fall back, there's a line where his skin goes from pale roan to cream. He might be a bit more solid than he was. Those cowboy boots, the hair that kinks. He winks. Tina's thighs tingle; her stomach lurches; her mouth is warming, waiting. She and Fran start to walk down the path towards him. Instead of him coming towards them, though, he walks to the passenger door and opens it.

‘It's Aurora,' Fran says. ‘I assumed she'd be coming with the rest of the Fieldens.'

‘Of course it's Aurora,' Tina mutters uncharitably. Fran gives no sign of hearing. Tina's stomach ties itself in a knot and her heart says, I told you so. Roddy hadn't mentioned that he was bringing Aurora. And why would she come with him when she could travel with her family? Anyone would think she and Roddy would be sick of the sight of each other by now. Tina had resolved, on the walk from the farmhouse to the drive, that she would stop letting Aurora bring out the worst in her. Which is so much easier, it turns out, when Aurora isn't there.

Fran goes first to Aurora, embraces her and steers her away, round the back of the car while Tina goes round the front to where Roddy is waiting, hands by his sides, until she's close enough to touch and then he grabs her round the waist, spins her, spins her, spins her. Kisses her. Kisses her again. She's smelling aftershave and shampoo. She's tasting coffee and apples and bacon and feeling the roughness of his fingertips on her throat. Her whole body is an aching, hungry thing. She's laughing at herself, at the impulses in her own fingers and limbs.

Roddy isn't laughing. ‘You, you, you,' he says. ‘You, you, you. God, Tina.'

‘I know,' Tina says. ‘Me too.' They kiss again; parts of her melt, other parts beg.

‘Do you think anyone would notice if we disappeared upstairs for a bit?' Roddy asks.

Tina laughs. ‘Yes, they would notice,' she says, her hand running up his spine under his T-shirt.

There's a growl, the sound of the Range Rover pulling off the main road, bringing the rest of the Fieldens.

‘Do you think anyone would mind, then? We haven't seen each other for weeks.'

‘I wouldn't mind,' Tina says.

‘That's the spirit.' He takes her hand; her fingers shiver. She stops.

‘Oh, hell, Roddy—'

‘What?'

‘Hairdresser. I have to go to the hairdresser.'

‘I'll do your hair. I'll do it sort of – mussy.' He runs his fingers up her skull, base to crown. Tina's scalp dances. Her mouth waters.

‘My mother's taking me. I'm under orders. Sorry. It will have to be later.' Being wanted makes Tina taller, makes her smile, makes her wonder whether this feeling, this glow in the cradle of her stomach, this sense of light bending towards her, is what it feels like to be Aurora Fielden all the time. It probably is. Aurora probably doesn't notice. The Range Rover is coming up the drive. Before Roddy and Tina can get away, Tina is engulfed in Aurora, who hugs her and then steps back. Tina is no expert but she thinks Aurora's earrings are real diamonds. She smells of CK One.

‘Hello, Tina! This boy of yours nearly killed me in his rush to get back here to see you,' she lowers her voice, ‘although you need to watch him. He could tell you which knickers I'm wearing, right now!'

Roddy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Aurora laughs and shoves his arm. Tina reminds herself that she's not going to let Aurora get the better of her, but her stomach shrivels and her heart cries out.

‘I have to go,' Tina says, ‘hairdresser. My mum will kill me if I'm late. She says it's the busiest day of the year and it took a Bakewell slice and a parkin to get us in. I'll see you all later.'

‘Tell your parents and Sam we'll collect them at seven, Tina,' Fran calls.

‘Will do,' Tina calls back. She eases herself away from the hubbub of the Fieldens' tumultuous disembarking. Roddy follows.

‘I thought I'd drive you tonight,' Roddy says as they walk down to the gate, where Alice is waiting, looking at her watch as though trying to slow down the passage of time with her glare.

‘I made her late, Mrs Randolph,' he says, kissing Alice on the cheek. ‘It's my fault.'

‘Oh, don't be silly, Roddy, it's only the hairdresser,' Alice says, while Tina tries not to catch Roddy's eye, feeling the laughter waiting in them both. ‘It's good to have you home. She's been pining for you.'

‘Not as much as I've been pining for her.' Roddy kisses Tina, gently, on the cheek, squeezes her, hard, on the bottom, which her mother can't see. When Alice has turned away she slides her fingers down the front of his jeans. He growls. She laughs. She loves the person Roddy makes her.

‘He's a lovely boy, is Roddy. Lovely manners,' her mother says as they race down the road, Tina in her trainers struggling to keep up with her mother's fierce tip-tapping.

Katrina has assured Tina that her hair is long enough to go up in a chignon, although when Katrina had tried it the result had been painful and only briefly successful, her curls springing free before enough hairspray could be added to keep them in place. The hairdresser does better, and even Tina has to admit that she looks sophisticated. Alice's hair plans are more ambitious – she has a picture torn from a magazine, of Bette Midler on a red carpet, her hair in ringlets.

The hairdresser manages it to Alice's satisfaction, and Tina and her mother return home, where Katrina and Sam are sitting chatting on the sofa. Tina couldn't swear to it but she thinks Sam might have his hand on her knee when they walk in. Katrina's make-up box and brushes are at her feet. ‘Right!' she says when she sees her friend. ‘Let's get started.'

At six, everyone is called to the kitchen. Howard is in his dressing gown and has just shaved, as evidenced by the neatly folded squares of toilet roll to the right of his chin and the left of his ear. He is pouring tea into mugs and buttering toast. Alice, sitting next to him, is fully made up, wrapped in a kimono and sipping her tea through a straw. ‘Smaller,' she says as her husband offers her a square of toast, ‘I've just spent twenty minutes setting my lipstick and I don't want to do it again.'

Obediently, as though he's doing the most normal thing in the world, Howard cuts the toast again, and pops it into his wife's mouth piece by piece, while she opens and closes her lips like a hungry chick. Tina, in Roddy's dressing gown, is being guided to her place by a solicitous Katrina, who has wadded Tina's toenails apart with foam separators.

‘You lot are a sight for sore eyes,' Sam says as he comes downstairs, a towel round his waist. University, where he rows and runs for his college, has made him longer and stronger. He's shaved too, and pulled back his hair into a ponytail. Even Tina can see that he's heart-stoppingly handsome, although she usually regards her twin in much the same way as she regards her own face – barely worth considering, as she's stuck with it. She glances at Katrina, who is cherry pink to the earlobes at the sight of this nearly naked vision.

‘Hey, Katrina,' Sam says, with a grin so flirtatious it would make a stripper blush, ‘how are you doing with trying to make my sister presentable?'

‘Sam, behave,' Tina says, at the same moment her mother says, ‘Sam, go and put something on.'

‘I don't want to get butter on my shirt,' Sam says, ‘which, also, I need to iron. Unless someone would like to iron it for me.'

‘I think your watch stopped sixty years ago, darling,' Alice says. The rest of them laugh.

‘Well said, Mum,' Tina says.

‘The Floods will be here for us in an hour,' Alice says, ‘and you need to be ready.'

‘It won't take him an hour to iron his shirt, Alice,' Howard says, ‘he's just teasing you.'

‘Well, he should know better than to tease his poor old mother.' They all laugh, at the thought of anyone considering Alice either poor or old. Alice beams and adds, ‘Anyway, you've always said that boy would be late for his own funeral.'

‘I'm getting better,' Sam says, ‘I've hardly been late for anything.'

‘You did miss your train yesterday,' Tina says mildly. Katrina laughs.

‘Trains are different,' Sam says, making Katrina laugh again. He takes another slice of toast. ‘Aren't they feeding us?' he asks.

‘Yes,' Howard says, ‘but we won't sit down until eight, or more likely half past. The starter won't be much of anything, so that means nine before we get something decent to eat.'

‘What your father means,' Alice says, ‘is that he wants to weigh me down a bit so I don't get over-excited with the wine and the high heels and run off with a steeplechaser.'

Tina's father holds his hands up.

Sam adds marmalade. He's the only one who's eating toast in any quantity; Tina is all nerves, her mother all tiny bites, her father, if the crumbs caught in the lapels of his navy towelling dressing gown are anything to go by, had his as he was waiting for everyone else to answer his call.

Sam asks, ‘Is this bread one of yours, Tina?' Flora is curled on his lap, and the weight of her is pulling the knot of his towel apart at the waist. No one has noticed except Katrina, who can't look away.

‘Yes,' Tina says, ‘it's not very good. That's why we're toasting it.'

‘Waste not, want not,' Howard says.

‘It's still better than shop bread,' Alice says, ‘and it fills Tina's evenings when she's missing Roddy.'

‘She's not missing him any more,' Katrina says, daring a glance at Sam, rewarded with a smile. And this time Tina blushes. She doesn't dare wiggle her toes, for fear of spoiling Katrina's handiwork. She wonders whether the ball will be anything like as much fun as things are now, with her family, round this table. The thoughts of Roddy all to herself later, of Snowdrop bedded down, sleek and happy, make her warm. Though Roddy didn't mention them staying over. She gets a little cooler, worry and goosebumps over her heart.

As sudden as tripping on a pavement, there's the sound of summer rain against the window. Alice wails, and Howard goes to hunt out golf umbrellas from the cupboard under the stairs, and Sam smiles a broad smile at Katrina and Tina and they smile broad smiles back, and the preparations are on again.

Although Tina doesn't care for dressing up, she's pleased with how she looks. Her hair is so solid that the hairdresser gave her special instructions for how to disassemble it. It's not too fussy, and the tendrils that the hairdresser has pulled down either side of her face have been straightened, so she almost doesn't recognize herself without a curl somewhere. Katrina's choker and earrings are made of black beads, round and tear-shaped, and the choker sits nicely at Tina's throat. She's not used to the sight of herself with anything more than mascara on, and had told Katrina that if there was too much make-up she would wait until her friend had left, wash it all off and go to the ball barefaced. But Katrina has done well, using mascara, eyeliner and a smudge of turquoise eyeshadow, a shimmer of blusher and lipgloss.