Women of a Dangerous Age (22 page)

‘Try,' he urged quietly. ‘I want to understand.'

She groped for the right words. ‘To do with the children, I suppose. I don't know, but those feelings one has for them, wanting to make everything right, to protect them, never go away. It's just as bad now as when they were tiny. Worse in some ways, because they make their own decisions and not always the ones I'd choose for them. As they should, of course,' she added, noticing he was about to object. ‘I thought it would get so much easier as they grew up. I thought I was doing the right thing, bringing the family together, but it looks like I've driven us even further apart.'

He looked thoughtful as he took another mouthful. When he'd finished eating, he spoke again. ‘Perhaps men and women experience this differently. My two daughters
are married now and look after themselves, so maybe I've just forgotten. But for me, it changed once they had husbands and families of their own. Then they really didn't need me any more, and I could let go. And Gita my wife had died, so I'll never know how she would have felt.'

Lou immediately thought of Nic, so protective of her independence, about to have her baby but without a partner to give her the sort of family Sanjeev was talking about. What would happen to her daughter then? And what would happen to Jamie and Rose when they married? She couldn't imagine switching off her feelings for her older son. Or, when the time came, those she had for Tom. Yet she was constantly aware that all three of them were moving away from her, her role as a mother becoming increasingly redundant. But she didn't feel ready to let go just yet.

‘What you must do is forge a new life of your own to take their place in your mind.'

‘But that's just what I'm doing with the shop and by moving into Jenny's house,' she protested, irritated that he hadn't understood that.

‘I mean emotionally,' he said, looking straight at her as he touched her hand across the table. ‘That side of you must be nurtured too, you know.'

‘Are you saying what I think you're saying?' she asked slightly too loudly, nervous that the conversation had changed a gear without warning. The blood rushed to her face. The three women on the next table suddenly fell silent as if they were waiting for Sanjeev's reply. Their
coiffeured grey heads were still, the nearest cocked just enough to show she was listening, her pearl drop earring quivering.

‘Maybe.' He lowered his voice and took his hand away. ‘What do you think I'm saying?'

The increased tremor of her neighbouring diner's earring betrayed her eagerness to catch Lou's answer. Refusing to give her the satisfaction, Lou leaned forward as far as she could and whispered, ‘You're suggesting that we should have an affair.' The wine must be stronger than she thought.

‘Only if you want to.' By this time he was leaning forward too, their noses only centimetres apart. She felt his breath on her face. His eyes were dark and wanting.

She sat back abruptly, the women on the next table having resumed their conversation. ‘I don't know, I …' she began, wondering if she should have thought before she said the word ‘affair'.

One of the neighbouring women caught her eye and nodded womanly encouragement. Lou glared back at her, then murmured, ‘It's difficult.'

‘Look, I know you're still raw. I understand that. But maybe this would …' He stopped.

‘Help?' she offered, at the same time aware that something was happening between them, shifting their relationship onto another level. ‘Well, maybe it would.' Why was she hedging? Where was that woman she had vowed to become, the one who'd kicked over the traces? She felt Ali and Fiona at her shoulder, egging her on. But, when it came to it, nothing was that simple. She might be able to fall into bed
with her own ex, but with someone new … The memory of what she saw in the mirror every day made the idea of sharing it with a near stranger unthinkable. And sex. She couldn't imagine what it would be like with someone else. Would she even know what to do?

‘“Help” wasn't what I was going to say, but I can see that I've said enough, I'm sorry.'

She tried to reassure him but they lapsed into an uneasy silence as they finished the meal in a hurry, Lou unable to eat all hers, both of them embarrassed that too much and yet not enough had been said. Neither of them knew quite where to go next.

On the train home, Lou stared out of the window at the passing countryside that was lit by a watery sun, her head swimming slightly. She didn't think she'd drunk too much. Two glasses though? She could usually manage two or three without much damage. In the window, she caught her reflection: a woman of a certain age, hair out of control, make-up not quite doing the job she would like.

Sanjeev had leaned his head against his seat back and closed his eyes, so she allowed herself to think about what was happening between them. She was attracted to him. Of that, she had no doubt. And he really did seem to be attracted to her. All she had to do was banish her inhibitions and say yes. That's all it would take. Surely not
so
hard? She looked across at his long fingers resting on the table. She imagined them touching her, touching her breast, her stomach … His lips were slightly apart. She remembered their first kiss. Not so bad either. As he shifted position, his foot came into contact with hers. Despite
feeling less than her best, her mind snapped into place. Out with the mobile and a quick call to Ali, asking her to lock up. Just this once. When Sanjeev woke, she would ask him to come home with her. The blouses and the shop could wait one day – just one. She looked across the table at him. One of his eyes was half open, studying her. Then he shut it again.

They took a bus home from the station. The swimming sensation she'd felt on the train had been joined by a nausea that was becoming almost overwhelming. Lou rested her hot forehead on the window, trying to will herself better, taking deep breaths that made no difference. By the time the bus reached the end of her street, she felt dreadful as well as furious that this should happen just when she had decided to advance her love life in a major way. Instead of tripping seductively up the road, all she could do was concentrate on the journey, occasionally stopping to close her eyes, hold a railing and breathe.

Sanjeev took her arm without saying anything. Having imagined – no, desired – his touch on the train, now it was the last thing on earth she wanted. She gently shook him off, wanting nothing more than to be alone. His concern was too much to cope with. All she could think about was getting home and to bed. Alone. She felt his presence beside her but her attention was entirely fixed on the tiny landmarks that made up her street and marked her progress home: the overflowing dustbins at number 6, the ginger cat asleep on the doorstep of 14, the bicycles chained to the railings of 22, the quince and wisteria hedge of 30, the
stretch of graffitied railway bridge, the squeak of her front gate, the rose bushes she'd failed to prune.

At last she was at her front door, fumbling for her keys, unable to get them out fast enough. She was aware of taking several great choking breaths as she stabbed the key towards the keyhole and missed. Her vision narrowed as she concentrated on getting the door open and herself inside. Then, a hand took the key from her, slid it into the lock and pushed open the door. She was about to dash inside when instinct took over, refusing to obey her brain's strict instruction to rush to the bathroom. Instead, as the enormity of what was about to happen dawned on her, she sank to her knees, her hand on the door jamb. She tried to get to her feet, but too late. Half standing, with a terrible coughing and puking sound, she vomited her entire lunch all over the doormat.

She was dimly, humiliatingly aware of Sanjeev witnessing every ghastly, technicoloured moment. Eventually, when she'd finished, she struggled upright, her head still spinning, only to catch sight of the strands of saliva that had tagged onto her jumper, the sick on her right shoe. Her eyes burned and one tear spilled over to run down her cheek, swiftly followed by a second. She pulled a grubby holed tissue from her mac pocket and blew her nose, despairing when the snot oozed through onto her hand. As she raised one foot to step over the puddle of vomit, she was all too aware of what a hideous sight she must look.

Just when she'd made up her mind to add some romance into the muddle of her life (cue cheers of approval from her friends), the calorie-free aphrodisiac had proved to be
the complete opposite (cue despair). A kettledrum beat a tattoo inside her head as she felt herself shepherded into the house and upstairs to the bathroom, where she was left alone (thank God) with the door tactfully left just ajar. In the distance, she heard a phone ringing, then Sanjeev's voice, but she was too preoccupied to listen. At last, when her stomach had completed the evacuation of everything she had so enjoyed putting in it, she felt her way down the corridor into her bedroom. The last thing she remembered was the touch of cold pillow on her cheek.

The chimp swung up to the glass, rolling back his lips into a gummy, yellow-toothed grin. Rory and Nic laughed as he clapped his hands at them, but Lou was miles away. Since they'd left home, she'd been functioning on autopilot, saying the right things, asking the right questions but otherwise in her own world, leaving Nic to bond with Rory. She felt guilty about not having made more effort with him but something had held her back. To all appearances, he was a perfectly pleasant child, wiry and earnest, neatly turned out in the obligatory uniform of a boy his age: jeans, sweatshirt, jacket, trainers. He had that slightly unsettling self-confidence of an only child who spent much of his time in adult company. He certainly seemed at ease with Nic who, despite her continuing feud with Hooker, was obviously quite taken with him.

Fully recovered from her ‘turn', Lou kept harking back to the morning after her day out with Sanjeev. Fiona had once been laid up for days after eating a dodgy mussel but Lou had got off lightly. She remembered making her way to the bathroom in the middle of the night, half registering the
shut spare bedroom door but with other, more pressing things to attend to, thought no more of it. The following morning, she almost had a seizure when woken by the sound of someone coming into her room. She flicked on the bedside light. She still marvelled at her bravery, or foolishness perhaps. Not that it mattered because Sanjeev was standing there with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up and his feet bare. In one hand, he held a full glass of water, in the other a cup of tea.

‘Water or bed tea? I didn't know how which you'd prefer,' he said, putting them both down beside her.

Astounded, she wiggled backwards to make room for him to sit on the bed within the curve of her body. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had brought her ‘bed tea', apart from the children on the odd birthday. As she moved, she registered with relief how much clearer her head felt, how much steadier her stomach. The explanation for the closed spare room door was obvious. ‘You stayed the night?' she asked unnecessarily, for the first time noticing the washing-up bowl by the side of the bed, the towel at the end. He must have put them there.

‘I couldn't leave you like that,' he said, evidently surprised that she would think him capable of such a thing. He stroked the hair off her forehead, just as she might her children's, except not like that at all. ‘How are you feeling now?'

‘Better. Thank you for looking after me.' She took his hand and kissed his fingers, unsure which of them was more surprised. ‘Much better.' She remembered exactly what she'd been thinking before she'd been taken ill. Thank God
she'd changed her sheets and her pyjamas the day before. Those men's stripy ones might be comfortable but they had to be sure-fire passion killers.

A heartbeat later, they were kissing and she was lifting the side of the duvet so he could climb in beside her.

He raised his eyebrows in question. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Oh, definitely,' she murmured, thankful that she'd cleaned her teeth on her last visit to the bathroom.

His clothes hit the floor in seconds. As he swung his legs into the bed, she snapped off the light, ignoring his murmured protest. After all, with the formidable blackout blinds, and her dodgy stomach giving her the ideal excuse to remain horizontal, he'd hardly notice the sad demise of her younger body until it was too late.

As it turned out, he hadn't seemed to mind at all. Quite the reverse, in fact. His lovemaking had been considerate but enthusiastic without being of the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am variety that she'd known Hooker to employ after a few drinks. She had even got sufficiently carried away to find herself sitting astride him, her initial reserve having been thoroughly abandoned. Now she tightened her grip on Rory's shoulder, remembering the more intimate details.

‘Ouch! That hurts.'

‘I'm sorry, Rory. I was miles away.'

He scuffed his trainers along the base of the enclosure wall as she let go. His dark head lifted to reveal a face that was spilt by a grin containing teeth of tombstone proportions. For a moment, she saw Tom at that age. They both had that slight Cupid's bow and the thicker lower lip,
reminiscent of Hooker. This was the first time she'd seen a resemblance.

‘Now can we go to the reptiles?' he asked. Then added as an afterthought, ‘Please.'

Over his head, Nic and Lou exchanged a look.

‘They're over there. I saw the sign when we came in.' His enthusiasm was hard to resist.

‘Of course, it's just that your … er, sister …' It was surprisingly hard for her to say the word when, in this context, it still felt quite wrong in her mouth. ‘… hates snakes.'

‘Well, she can always stay outside. Please.' Sharp blue eyes raised in appeal.

She glimpsed Tom in him again.

‘OK. Let's go.' Lou led the way. She was sure her daughter was resilient enough to face her fears if they were safely behind glass.

Once they were in the dim corridor of the reptile house, Rory's nose was pressed to one window after another in search of Harry Potter's Burmese python while Nic trailed behind, looking tense. Lou let herself drift back to the previous day. Sanjeev had finally left as she was running a bath. Work called. When she ventured downstairs, only a slight queasiness to remind her of the previous day's debacle, she found the front doormat thoroughly cleaned and back in its place. The two men couldn't be more different. Hooker would have left the clearing up to her, irritated by the change in the evening's plans, but not Sanjeev. Hooker's feminine side remained a decided stranger to the world, whereas Sanjeev's was clearly alive
and out there. She didn't have to think hard about which she preferred.

There was a muffled shriek from Nic as a green mamba dropped from a tangle of branches high in its vivarium. The snake slithered towards a nearby stone, reared up, then posed motionless, its round yellow eyes watching, pupils wide, its forked black tongue flickering. Small, venomous and deadly.

‘Wow!' breathed Rory.

Nic grabbed her mother's shoulder as Lou bent her knees to be on a level with the boy. ‘Is this the one that talked to Harry Potter?'

‘No! This isn't a python.' He explained with all the patience of a missionary talking to the unconverted and pointed to the label. ‘See. A python isn't poisonous like this one. A python's brown and much bigger and crushes its prey to death.' His obvious relish in the idea was accompanied by a small moan from Nic. Lou took pity on her daughter.

‘Darling, why don't you go to the café? You must be tired.'

‘Yes, I am a bit.' Nic immediately grabbed at the excuse. ‘I'll meet you there. Coke for you, Rory?'

With Nic safely dispatched, Lou concentrated on being with the boy. She'd forgotten how absorbing and funny an eleven-year-old's company could be. They made their way around the exhibits until they found a python. Lou's stomach turned as a dead white rat slowly disappeared head first through the snake's dislocated jaws, but Rory remained transfixed for the full five minutes and she hadn't the heart to move him on. Then, after a brief pit stop with Nic, the
three of them set off again together, determined to see as much as they could before they met Tom.

When they finally left the zoo, Rory clutching a book about snakes and other reptiles from the obligatory visit to the gift shop, Tom was waiting for them at the main gate, red-and-white scarf around his neck. ‘All right, mate?' He high-fived his young half-brother. ‘What've you got there?'

Rory passed him the book.

‘Wicked. Nic must have
loved
seeing them.' He winked as he put his hand on the boy's shoulder. ‘Come on then. We're going to the Emirates for the Arsenal–Bolton match with Dad. Kick-off's at three. So we'd better run.'

Rory nodded, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘Now? Are we going on the Tube? Camden Town to King's Cross, change onto the Piccadilly line to Holloway.'

‘Blimey, you know your stuff. That's seriously impressive. Think you can get me there?'

Rory glowed with the unsought-for praise and nodded, rendered speechless as Tom removed the scarf and wrapped it round the boy's neck. ‘You have this one. I've got another.' And he magicked it out of his jumper with a flourish.

Watching Rory half running to keep up with Tom's loping stride, Lou felt such maternal pride as Tom looked down at the younger boy, chatting away and joke-cuffing his head. As she watched them, Nic linked arms with her. She had been more attentive to Rory than Lou had expected. When it came to it, the outing had been much more than mere duty.

‘Thanks for coming, Mum. Do you think it went OK?' She sounded anxious. ‘I'm exhausted.'

‘Completely.' Lou touched Nic's arm as they made their way to the car park. ‘He's a sweet kid. And you know what? You're going to be a great mum.'

‘Only if it swears off reptiles and football. I want one that dresses in pink and likes hair slides and fairies.'

‘What? Even if it's a boy?'

‘You know what I mean!' Nic laughed. ‘I liked him, although knowing him hasn't changed what I think about Dad.'

‘Don't you think you should forgive and forget?' Whatever her own feelings, Lou didn't want a permanent estrangement between Hooker and their daughter. Nor did she want to end up as their go-between again.

‘No way! After what he did to you, to us?'

Lou knew that look well. The shutters were still down. There was no point continuing the discussion. She would have to keep hoping that Nic would come round in her own good time.

‘But do you think Rory liked
me
?' So that was what was worrying her.

‘Of course he did. Not sharing his interests isn't what's important. You're just as much a natural with kids as Tom.' Indeed, once the snakes were out of the way, Nic had found plenty to entertain them in the B.U.G.S. house, leaving Lou to cringe at the spiders and maggots before they moved on to the children's zoo.

‘Really?'

She sounded so anxious for reassurance that Lou wanted to hug her, but knew how such a public gesture of affection would be received. Instead she contented herself with ‘Yes, really.'

By the time they'd reached Nic's car, the usual Nic was back: confident and in charge. ‘Can I give you a lift anywhere?'

‘Don't worry. I'm going to the shop.' And the sooner she got there the better, otherwise it wouldn't be just her business on the line, but her friendship with Ali as well. She was horribly conscious of how much she'd taken advantage of her during the last few days.

‘That's OK, I'll take you. I'm not doing anything much.' Nic opened the passenger door and gestured her inside.

As they pulled up outside Puttin' on the Ritz, Nic leaned over and peered towards the window where there were two of Lou's floral crêpe silk tea dresses. ‘It's looking really good, Mum. Who's been looking after it?'

‘Just a friend. The one who's making the jewellery you liked.'

‘Must be a good one.' Nic sat back in her seat, changed into first gear and glanced in her rear-view mirror, suddenly keen to get on with the rest of her day.

‘Mmm. She is. Very good. But I can't keep relying on her. In fact, I think I'm going to look for someone to help out officially for a couple of days a week.' She wasn't sure why she hadn't done that from the beginning. How much easier life would be. Lou got out, slammed the door and gave a little wave, jumping backwards onto the pavement as Nic roared off, oblivious.

She found Ali behind the counter, deep in a paperback with something classical going at full throttle in the background. ‘Busy morning?'

Ali looked up, yawning. ‘Almost got killed in the rush. Not.' She closed her book. ‘Coffee?'

‘I'd murder for one. But haven't you got to go?' Lou was already exchanging Ali's CD for the smoky tones of Ella Fitzgerald singing her way through the Cole Porter songbook. As the first notes of ‘All Through the Night' sounded through the shop, she felt the contentment that went with being where she belonged, despite Ali's disappointed tut. But it was Lou's shop, so her mood, and this was definitely more the thing.

‘Yes, but I haven't been able to get out for a coffee all day. Anyway, I want to catch up on your news before I head off to the studio. Won't be a sec.' She disappeared out of the door to return five minutes later with two of Stefano's triple espressi. ‘This should get the old heart ticking.'

‘Less of the old, thanks.' Lou was walking the length of the clothes rails, mentally checking the stock. ‘Haven't you sold anything?'

‘Not a thing. Had a few browsers but no takers. And before you ask, yes, I did try. One of them said they might come back. Best I could do, I'm afraid. Someone did buy a set of stacking rings though.'

‘That's right. Look after number one,' teased Lou. She adjusted a couple of bags and belts on the shelf. ‘What about these damn frocks? I've got to move them to make way for the rest of the summer stock cluttering up my sitting room.'

They both sat behind the counter, Lou by the sewing machine. Its proximity made her feel as if she was working, or was about to: a good feeling that compensated for the
inquisition that Ali would have been preparing all morning. And here it came.

‘So? What's he like? Rory?'

‘You mean, does he have horns and a tail? Oddly, not. Hooker dropped him off, then Nic picked us up. She still won't have anything to do with her father. I don't know how to fix things between them. Although it's not really my responsibility. But I feel that it is. Anyway, we bonded over the snakes and the stuff in the gift shop. Easiest way to a kid's heart? Spend some money on them! In fact, we had a great time. I'm knackered though. I'd forgotten how tiring kids could be.' She immediately remembered Ali's yearning for them and regretted her thoughtlessness. ‘Sorry. Not thinking.'