He and Andy were finally introduced to Bella as a curly-haired sixteen-month-old, after they’d jumped through endless hoops, sat through panel meetings and were vetted by social workers. He dived into parenthood wholeheartedly. One minute, he was a man with a wardrobe full of Italianinvestment pieces, whose idea of a fun weekend involved vineyard tours of the Duoro Valley. The next, he was embracing the noisy, vaguely unhygienic world of soft play and Splash Land. He’s even the chair of the school PTA these days, so spends weekends planning end-of-term discos and selling tea towels printed with Year 6 self-portraits. He’sextremelygood at it, hence my owning four myself, all printed with pictures of children I have never even met. As for the prejudice he feared Bella might face, it hasn’t materialised so far. Teachers fall over themselves to compliment him on his parenting, which is not a phenomenon I’ve ever experienced myself.
‘Oh no!’ Bella exclaims, as she smudges a nail and examines the result. ‘It’s not very neat, is it?’
‘It’s lovely!’ I insist, though in truth it looks like I’ve trapped my fingers in a paper shredder. ‘Very professional. If you go into my handbag I’ll give you a tip. I think there’s a pound coin in the inside pocket.’
She hesitates. ‘Maybe a bank transfer would be easier?’
Jeff nearly chokes on his cocktail. ‘Get out of here! The words you were looking for werethank you,Aunty Jules.’
‘Okay! Thank you!’ she says, giggling, as she takes the coin and disappears with her beauty case.
‘Outrageous. I don’t know how many times I’ve told her to ask for crypto,’ he laughs, sitting down next to me. ‘Now, before anyone else arrives,how’s Gavin?’
I can’t believe it took him this long to ask.
‘Fine,’ I shrug, not meeting his gaze.
‘Still seeing a lot of him?’
‘A fair amount, yes.’
He narrows his eyes sceptically.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ I ask.
‘Heisreal, isn’t he?’ he asks.
‘Ofcoursehe’s real.’
‘So why have you been dating for weeks now and I still haven’t even laid eyes on the man in question?’
‘Jeff, he’s a living, breathing man. I assure you. But we’re taking things slow. Plus, he’s very busy,’ I say, hoping that’s the end of the matter. But even I know that’s unlikely given that this is one of Jeff’s favourite topics of conversation.
Since I became a widow five years ago, I have discovered that people have a preconceived idea about how long it’s acceptable to grieve. As far as my brother is concerned, I passed that mark a long time ago. He was the first person to raise the possibility of my ever letting another man into my life, deliberately choosing a moment of weakness after we’d watchedMoonstruck. As the end credits rolled, he started on about howit was timeandwhat Ed would have wantedand if I wasn’t careful I’d turn into a Miss Havisham-type character andjust wither away and die, decrepit, bitter and alone.
‘How very reassuring of you,’ I said snippily, though I knew his heart was in the right place.
The difficulty is that mine was not, no matter how much he, and later others, would try and force the issue.
I think everyone accepts that there is no chance of me falling in love again, that a replacement for Ed doesn’t exist even if I’d wanted one. Which I really don’t. But people seem determined that there’s room in everyone’s heart for ‘a little romance’. Jeff’s words, not mine. Personally, I find the prospect stomach-churning – though I know from bitter experience that if I say this sort of thing out loud I’m almost guaranteed to get a lecture.
But it was a comment from Frankie that made me realise that I ought to make asemblanceof being emotionally available, for her sake if nobody else’s.
‘Do you think you’ll ever get a boyfriend, Mum?’ she’d said, out of the blue, when I was driving her back from a shift at the care home.
My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, my voice high and unnatural as I casually enquired: ‘What brought this on?’
I imagined that she’d got all dewy-eyed again, after chatting to one of the old dears about their six-decade marriage.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I just saw one of your tatty old bras hanging on the line,’ she said, turning up her lip in distaste. ‘Seriously, Mum. At the very least I think you need some new underwear.’
Chapter 4
From the moment Jeff’s three friends arrive, the kitchen is filled with so much laughter you’d think it had been years, not days, since they’d last seen each other. He met Lisa and Nora at the school gates, before getting to know Rose, who was already close with both. As a group, they are inseparable. If you’re around my brother when one of them posts on WhatsApp, so much pinging follows that it’s like standing next to someone playing a glockenspiel.
‘Jules! I didn’t realise you were coming,’ exclaims Rose, as she takes off her coat.
‘She’s at a loose end now Frankie’s gone travelling,’ Jeff explains, helpfully pointing out what a loser I am.
