The Only Boy For Me Page 23

  I wake next morning to find Charlie is already up and has made me breakfast in bed. Five digestive biscuits covered in honey, which he’s managed to spread over the entire kitchen, and a tea bag in a cup of cold water. Yum. I go down to the kitchen to make tea and find the soles of my feet stick to the kitchen floor. Try to be grateful but fail, and Charlie sulks.

  ‘Honey is very difficult to spread, you know, Mummy. Lots of biscuits cracked into bits before I got the hang of it.’

  The kitchen bin is indeed full of bits of broken biscuits, and what seems like ten gallons of honey. I try to gently suggest that next time plain biscuits would be fine, but Charlie says I’m being horrible and he will never make me breakfast again. I end up feeling mean and eat the biscuits, which are revolting. Charlie cheers up and wanders off to watch cartoons. I spend so long trying to wash honey off the kitchen surfaces that we’re late leaving for school.

  We arrive just as the bell rings, and I’m cornered by a pincer movement from the PTA women on the auction committee. I wave Charlie goodbye with a very fixed smile on my face, and am then cross-examined for ten minutes as to why I cannot come up with a truly startling promise which will raise hundreds of pounds for school funds. Aren’t I something to do with films? Couldn’t I arrange for a day watching a film being made? People would love that. I point out that actually it’s very boring, with lots of sitting about, and directors aren’t really very keen on strangers turning up to watch. I can just imagine Barney’s face when I tell him I’ve put him up as a star lot in the PTA auction. I end up agreeing to see what I can do, which will turn out to be absolutely nothing but naturally I do not tell them this.

  Saturday afternoon, and Charlie has a birthday party to go to. A small boy called Justin from his class, with rather nervous parents who for some reason have gone for the traditional approach and are having fifteen children to their house for tea and party games. Daft buggers. I’m almost tempted to offer to try and track down some Valium when I drop Charlie off. I pick him up at five and he’s almost hysterical with the combination of sugar and a rather disastrous game of Musical Chairs. Apparently Justin’s daddy got the music wrong, so Justin was out first and spent the rest of the game trying to push everyone else off their chairs, until he was finally sent upstairs in disgrace.

  ‘Oh, poor Justin.’

  ‘Serves him right. He pushed James really hard. He could have broken his leg. James had to do hopping for a bit, and I helped him get a chair. That was nice of me, wasn’t it, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, darling. That was very kind. Well done.’

  ‘Oh yes. I know all about being kind. We did it at school yesterday. Kind hands and kind feet, Miss Pike says. Me and James think it’s really boring. And then Miss Pike said we were being silly and made us tidy up the home corner. That wasn’t very kind, was it, Mummy? You should tell her, you know.’

  I decide to ignore this and try to change the subject.

  ‘So did poor old Justin get to come back downstairs and enjoy the rest of his party?’

  ‘Yes. We did Pass the Parcel after that, and Justin got the prize.’

  I bet he did. His father was probably instructed on pain of death to get the music right this time, or spend the rest of the afternoon upstairs with a hysterical birthday boy.

  ‘And was the tea nice?’

  ‘Yes. Quite. There was little sausages. But the jelly was horrible; it was green.’

  He pauses for the full ghastliness of green jelly to register.

  ‘Justin threw his on the carpet.’

  I must remember never to invite Justin to tea.

  Mack turns up later on, and Charlie is already in bed. We go up to say goodnight and get involved in a marathon Random-Chatting Routine about electricity, and how telephones work. It turns out Mack doesn’t really know either, but he promises to look it up properly tomorrow and eventually Charlie relents and gets back into bed. We go back downstairs and start making supper.

  ‘So how was the trip?’

  ‘Oh, well, great really. But I’ve got some news.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  I look up and notice that he seems rather nervous. My mind races through various scenarios involving supermodels, and I’m in the midst of imagining a four-page spread in Hello! featuring Mack and his new wife when he says, ‘Yes. We’ve bought an American agency, it’s a huge deal. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything about it sooner but I really didn’t know if we’d pull it off. Anyway we have, and they want me to run the whole thing. It’s a huge job, and I think it’ll be great. But, um, well, the thing is I’ll have to live in New York. I mean, I’ll travel a lot, they’ve got offices all over the place, but mainly I’ll be in the States. So I was wondering, would you come with me – I mean you and Charlie obviously. Come to New York with me, and we’ll get a big apartment and all that.’

  ‘Christ, Mack, this is all a bit sudden, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, well, it all happened a bit quicker than I thought. What do you think, though? Fancy living it up in New York for a while?’

  ‘Mack, you can’t be serious. I can’t just drop everything and come to New York. What about Charlie and his school? He’s really not up to any huge changes at the moment. And what about Daisy and Alfie?’

  ‘I know, the timing’s not great, but it never is, is it? I’ve talked to Laura and I reckon I’ll see the kids more than I do now. They’ll come out for the holidays, and I can still call them every night. Look, this is a lot to take in. Take your time; you don’t have to decide now.’

  ‘Right.’

  There’s a long silence while we both look at the kitchen floor, which is filthy.

  ‘Mack, there’s just no way I can see me moving to the other side of the world and putting Charlie through all that upheaval. It’s just not fair, and anyway we aren’t ready.’

  ‘What do you mean, we aren’t ready? I think we are. I mean, I am. Look, if it would make any difference we could get married if you like.’

  ‘Mack, stop it, you’re being ridiculous. You don’t get married just because one of you gets a new job. And anyway I don’t want to get married. I mean, if I did it would be to you, but we’ve only known each other a few months. I like my life here. Charlie loves his school. You can’t seriously expect me to give all that up just because your bloody agency has gone all multinational and you want to go and play with the big boys in New York. It’s ridiculous.’

  ‘I love you. Did I say that bit?’

  There’s another long silence while we both stare at the floor. I’m tempted to get the mop out, but I know this is classic displacement activity, and anyway it’s broken since Charlie used it as a sword last week and snapped the top off. It feels like I’ve suddenly inexplicably found myself sitting in the front carriage on the top of a rollercoaster. One minute I was making supper and the next I’m in the middle of a terrifying major conversation.

  ‘I love you too. Why don’t you turn the job down and come and live with me in rural bliss? You can learn to relax more.’

  ‘That’s not what I want, Annie.’

  ‘I know. And I don’t want to move to New York. I hate New York. Well, I’ve only actually been once, but I hated it.’

  ‘You could have another baby.’

  ‘You bastard. You don’t want another baby; you just said that because you think it’ll make me change my mind.’

  ‘Well, a bit, I suppose. But if you did want one I wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Oh great. So we move to New York. You have a transatlantic relationship with your two kids, Charlie loses all his friends and his family, and then to cap it all I get pregnant with a baby you don’t mind having if it keeps me quiet. Perfect recipe for a stable family life. Not quite The Waltons, though, is it?’

  ‘Look, you can’t live your whole life for Charlie, you know.’

  ‘I know that. But I can’t ignore him either. Three months ago he nearly died in my arms. It kind of makes you focus. He needs peace and security, not total bloody uphe
aval. And anyway it’s not just Charlie. I like my life here, and I like my work. What am I supposed to do in New York? I don’t want to be stuck in some flash apartment all day long. What would I do – master the art of making the perfect martini, or get heavily into flower arranging or something? I’d turn into one of those daft women you meet at parties who go on and on about winter foliage. And anyway you might hate the job. They might fire you after six weeks.’

  ‘Hardly, darling. I own half the agency now. I’ve got money coming out of my ears. Wouldn’t you like to help me spend it?’

  ‘No. I hate shopping. I’d have to keep getting Leila over. Look, let’s stop this. You go to New York and we can meet up whenever we can. It’s only a plane ride. Then we can see how it goes, and look at moving and everything in a few months’ time.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Annie. But I don’t want to do that. This job’s going to be huge. I can’t be flying backwards and forwards all the time. I’ve thought a lot about this. I don’t mind if you need time to think, but it’s got to be all or nothing. Either come with me, or we’ll have to call it a day. I miss you too much as it is when you’re not around. The fucking journey is killing me already. I want you with me all the time. I know Charlie will always come first, and I accept that – in fact it’s one of the things I love most about you. But I want to come a close second. I’ll settle for that. But not from the other side of the Atlantic.’

  ‘I can’t do that, Mack. Not now.’

  Tears are rolling down my cheeks now, and I notice that Mack looks pretty close to tears himself. We stand there in silence.

  ‘I guess I should go now.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  And then I really start to sob and he puts his arms around me and we stand in the kitchen for what seems like an eternity. Slowly he pulls away.

  ‘Look, I’ll call you. You can always change your mind. I’m not leaving for a couple of weeks. We can talk some more.’

  And then he walks out of the door and sits in his car. I stand watching him, but finally he drives off, very, very slowly.

  I ring Leila in hysterics. She’s on her way to a dinner party but abandons it and says she will drive down immediately. Thank God for Leila. Just when I thought nothing else could reduce me to a snivelling wreck, this comes along. I rage and sob in the kitchen until she arrives. She takes one look at me and throws her arms around me, and we both end up in tears.

  ‘I don’t understand. It’s just like one of those awful Swedish films where it’s all perfect and then suddenly there’s a blizzard, someone commits suicide and the boiler blows up. Why don’t you go to New York? Mack’s perfect for you. What are you going to do when Charlie grows up anyway – join a convent?’

  ‘No, but this isn’t just about Charlie. I like my life, I don’t live here for a joke, you know; I like living in the country.’

  ‘Oh stop it. What about pesticides and rural poverty, and all that inbreeding? What’s Charlie going to do when he grows up – drink cider and drive tractors? He’s going to bugger off to London as soon as he can. This isn’t Little House on the Prairie, you know. If Pa is moving to New York, then you’re supposed to go with him.’

  ‘Yes I know. But he’s not, is he? I mean, Mack’s not really Mr Fatherhood, is he? He loves his kids, sure, but he’s perfectly happy to live on another continent to them, and only see them in the holidays. He says he loves the fact that I put Charlie first, but I don’t think he really gets it. His work is what he loves, and it comes a long way second for me. Charlie deserves one hundred per cent and so does Mack. But that makes two hundred per cent and I just can’t do it, and anyway what does that leave for me?’

  ‘I know, I know. You’re just not cut out for “Stand By Your Man”, are you? Quite right too. He’s got a bloody cheek, actually, expecting you to just drop everything. But I guess that’s not really the point, is it? Oh bugger it, you were so good together.’

  ‘I know. Christ, I’m going to miss him. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this.’ I start to cry again.

  ‘Oh you will, somehow. You know you will. I’ll help. We can go shopping next week. And I’ll bike some offal round to his office first thing on Monday.’

  ‘Leila. Mack hasn’t done anything wrong, you know.’

  ‘I know. But he’s upset you, so I hate him. Fair enough?’

  ‘Fair enough. Talking of men we hate, is there any news of James?’

  ‘Yes. Stupid fucker sent me an email saying he hoped that we could remain friends, and that I’d stop sending him things at the office.’

  ‘Leila. I thought you had stopped.’

  ‘Yes, well, I had. But after his email I just had to come up with one last gift from the heart. So I got a pig’s head from the local butcher and biked it round.’

  ‘Leila, you didn’t?’

  ‘I did. Serve him right. Anyway I’m over him now; I really can’t work out what I saw in him. I hope you get like that about Mack but I have a sneaking feeling you won’t. Mainly because Mack is not a total fuckwit. Anyway, I met a rather fascinating new man at a drinks party last week. A Dutch architect called Frank. Lizzie might know him – he works over here in some trendy firm in Islington. I’m thinking of having the house totally redesigned. It’s early days, but it’s looking promising.’

  ‘Oh good.’

  ‘Yes. But never mind that, back to you. How are you feeling?’

  ‘A bit shaky, actually. Would you mind if I went to bed now? You’ll stay the night, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes please. Then I can see my best boy in the morning. I’m pretty knackered too – let’s get an early night and then we can plan something splendid for tomorrow. I’ll take you out for lunch, if you like.’

  ‘Thanks, Leila.’

  I get into bed and lie weeping quietly, feeling overwhelmed by sadness. I’m debating whether to get up and make some tea and biscuits when the door opens and Charlie staggers in. He climbs into bed half asleep, and snuggles in for a hug. I’m very, very pleased he’s chosen this precise moment to wake up, and as I lie there cuddling him back to sleep I get the first faint glimmers of hope that life will go on, somehow, despite the feeling I’ve been run over by a truck.

  Chapter Twelve

  We Wish You a Merry Christmas

  I have a series of agonising conversations with Mack where he continues to insist that I should come with him to New York, and I continue to insist that I can’t. We have a blazing row on the night before he leaves where I accuse him of being selfish and he accuses me of being a martyr, culminating in him slamming the phone down. I want to ring him straight back but know deep down it will be pointless. Even though we’re still talking, it already feels like he’s left. I go to bed hoping he’ll call, but he doesn’t. I wake up early the next morning and realise he’s probably already on his way to Heathrow. Lurk by the phone hoping he’ll have a change of heart, and Charlie is thrilled when I agree to crisps and biscuits for breakfast. I drop him off at school and race back to see if there are any messages. There aren’t.

  I can’t believe this is really it. Surely there should be something major going on, an announcement on the breakfast news at least. But apparently there will just be silence. Bastard. I ring up Leila who agrees that it’s awful, but then she spoils it by saying she rather admires him really, because at least he’s not prolonging the agony: he’s made up his mind and is sticking to it. I know what she means: one of the things I really love about him is how determined he is. It’s a bit ironic really, as the thing he seems most determined about at the moment is leaving me and getting on with his new life.

  Kate comes round to commiserate, and says I’m doing absolutely the right thing and if he really loved me he would realise that. This makes me cry. I become addicted to soppy love songs, and sit in the car after the school run singing along to Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’. I nearly jump out of my skin when a woman delivering the parish newsletter knocks on the car window and asks me if I’m
alright. I’ve explained to Charlie that we won’t be seeing Mack again for a while, because he’s gone to work in New York, and Charlie has accepted this without a murmur. In fact he doesn’t seem to have noticed that his mother is distraught, except that he’s started refusing to get into the car unless I agree not to play any music.

  I’m tucking him up in bed a few days later when he says, ‘Mummy, why are you so sad? Is it because I was ill? You don’t think I’m going to get ill again, do you?’

  He looks very anxiously at me. Oh God. I’ve been indulging myself by wallowing in misery, and he’s been half terrified that the hospital has called to give me early warning of a relapse.

  ‘No, of course not, darling. I don’t think you’ll get ill again, I promise. I’m just a bit sad about Mack. I miss him, that’s all. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh that’s OK. I miss him too. Shall we get a dog? That would cheer us up, you know, Mummy, and it would be a friend for you when I’m at school. And if Mack comes back one day it could bite him, and serve him right for going to America. What do you think, Mummy, can we, can we?’

  I spend the next half-hour trying to convince him that owning a Great Dane would not cheer me up and finally come up with what I consider to be an excellent argument: ‘Anyway, Buzz and Woody would be frightened by a great big dog charging round the garden. That wouldn’t be fair.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Mummy. It would be a tiny little puppy when we got it, and they could all play together and everything. Then when it got big they would be used to it. It might let them ride on its back. They’d love that.’

  I try to persuade him that rabbits do not like riding round gardens balanced on the backs of huge dogs, but he’s not convinced. In the end I give up and bring the conversation to a close by simply walking out of the bedroom and switching off the light. Charlie promptly bursts into tears, and I feel guilty. I stand outside the bedroom door for a bit trying to decide what to do, and then go back in and we have a cuddle with me kneeling by the side of his bed and getting a severe crick in my neck. Eventually I get him off to sleep, and decide that I’ve got to pull myself together or Charlie is going to get really worried. I try to distract myself from thinking about Mack by writing my Christmas shopping list, but this is so depressing I end up watching The Bodyguard on video. Again. It looks like my new-found Whitney habit is going to be a hard one to break.