It was years since she’d seen him and yet thanks to Tanner being one of the world’s biggest rock bands, who seemed to have an endless supply of hits, Ricky and the band were often in the papers.
Nothing could be more guaranteed to make Jason furious with jealousy than newspaper coverage of Ricky.
Callie was used to it. The trick, she’d learned, was to deal with Jason’s fierce jealousy by pretending utter indifference, even dislike.
‘I guess I should be pleased that you get jealous over my old boyfriends,’ she said, determined to tease him out of his misery. Last night had been wonderful: he’d made her feel loved and she’d understood that things were tricky in work right now, which was why he’d been distant.
She was not going to let Ricky ruin it.
When Jason had gone into the office, Callie took a quick look at the papers.
There was a piece on Ricky, who was recording a new album. People were still talking about his amazing and enlightening talk at Davos about climate change. Jason would have given his right arm, left legandthe Ferrari to be asked to speak at Davos, but it was never going to happen. Callie knew that. But Ricky, her first ever boyfriend, first lover, and one of the most famous men in the world, had been asked and had been a huge success.
Jason had hated that – it meant he couldn’t say that Ricky was just a moron with a guitar. Morons with guitars did not get invited to the prestigious Swiss think tank where world leaders gathered every year.
And he particularly hated it when Callie was mentioned in these articles, as she sometimes was because of the song ‘Calliope’, which had been the breakout song for Ricky’s band – the song that had transformed them from a small band into a band who could fill Madison Square Gardens.
But Ricky had been long gone from her life when she met Jason and backthen, it had thrilled Jason to be going out with the famous rock star’s ex-girlfriend.
Callie picked up the paper and put it in the recycling.
The past needed to stay in the past. Except, it kept pinging into her consciousness. Her party was very soon.
She tried not to think about it because of the people who wouldn’t be there: her mother, her brother, her aunt and uncle-in-law. All her relatives, the people that Jason had basically banished from her life ten years before.
Fiftieth birthdays were a time for family, but if she got in touch with her mother now it would look like she was only doing it for appearances’ sake.
How did you come back from that sort of family row? You couldn’t – that was the answer. Instead, you had to be passionately grateful for all you had.
Sam
Posy shoved a multicoloured fluffy dog at her Uncle Ted and said, ‘This puppy has a broken tummy. Fix him.’
‘Yes, oh Empress Posy,’ said Ted, as Posy poked the stuffed puppy in a way that would guarantee a broken tummy or, at least, severe gastric discomfort. ‘Exactly what sort of puppy is this?’
‘A zebra shetta puppy,’ Posy said. ‘You’re silly not to know.’
‘Yup, silly me.’
Sitting in an armchair, watching, Sam thought happily of how Sunday dinner at Joanne’s was always fun. Fun because Joanne’s three little girls were a delight.
They adored Ted and pulled him down onto the ground so they could get him to be the vet for a line-up of teddies who would all have injuries.
‘He’s going to be a great dad,’ Joanne said as she somehow managed to shut the oven door with her bum while carrying the roast and shoving some children’s toys out of the way with her foot. Sam marvelled at her sister’s ability to multitask. Joanne could cook, mind kids, talk and not get the slightest bit fazed by any of this.
Sam was good at multitasking when she was at work, but at home, she liked a different, more laid-back sort of vibe. But this was motherhood, she knew: she had to watch and learn because that was very important.
‘What are we eating today?’ she said.
‘Roast lamb stuffed with rosemary and garlic,’ said Joanne, her voice slightly questioning. ‘Sound good?’
‘If she winces and asks for fish paste,’ said Ted, coming back in as he wrapped up another teddy, a bright pink one this time with the bandage made out of toilet roll, ‘say no. No matter how much she begs. Gives her heartburn.’
‘I have not had fish paste for ages, in my defence,’ said Sam.
The door banged and the sound of Patrick, Jo’s husband, ushering in Sam’s father could be heard.
‘Liam, how are you, and Jean – we weren’t expecting you to make it, but gosh, er, you look lovely.’ Patrick was using his most respectful voice.
