‘Sure. Thanks for the endorsement by the way. We made a good team didn’t we, you and I? I was upset about what Aurora said, but now grudgingly agree some of her accusations were spot on. The dog wasn’t mine and I was wrong to pretend he was. I’m not a professional counsellor– sure, I based a lot of my session planning with you on the modules from my degree, but I have no practical experience apart from a few weeks answering phones in Harley Street. I made a lot up as I went along.’
‘Isn’t that what life coaches do? Isn’t it what everyone does when they’re pioneering new theories? Everything is made up by someone. I’m an actor, the ultimate unreliable narrator, but other professions are just as full of bullshit. Let me tell you a story about my dad. He was a leading thinker in psychology– you might have heard of him– Raymond Morelli? He went out on a limb and wrote a best-selling series of books all about the psychology behind how we work–Hope in the Workplace,Optimism in the Workplace–you’llget the drift without me naming them all. But his success didn’t go down well with his contemporaries who made accusations about the science behind his theories, grumbled he’d only ever worked in academia and had no idea what a water cooler moment was. You know how he responded? With a new book–Resilience in the Workplace.He used to say modern thinking solves ancient problems, whereas old thinking will never tackle a new one.’
‘OK, maybe I was good at making stuff up. But my fee was too high for my experience. I want to repay you. My bank account is empty so you can have my dog if you like as he’s worth more than my house contents. Or I’ll return your money incrementally.’
He puts his hand over mine to stop me. ‘Daisy, you were worth every penny. And I’d like to do something for you in return if you ever find yourself struggling. Just talk to me OK?’ He picks up a spoon and places it into a small bowl of white sauce with green flecks. ‘Aurora and I have been getting to know each other. She’s a ranter isn’t she? But I like her. We have something in common.’
‘Vanity?’
He looks offended. ‘Do you think I’m vain?’ I snort out a laugh and a tiny smile appears at the corner of his handsome mouth. ‘I was talking about cancer. Aurora almost died from it, as she announced at the fair, after putting her faith in quacks. In contrast, my wife went all in with traditional medical advice but didn’t go looking for the support of her own husband. I was a grimy partner, Daisy. I’m not proud of it. Joe was spot on with his assessment of my marriage and parenting. I stayed out late, sometimes all night, chased whoever caught my eye and quite often drank the bar dry. When she was diagnosed, she decided to handle it on her own and literally suffered in silence, getting a friend to take her to appointments and popping drugs in secret. By the time I noticed she was suspect, the game was over.’ He opens the oven, removes a tray and puts it down on his posh hob. The force with which he scrapes the fish fingers from the stainless-steel tray indicates he may be a little ruffled by his confession.
‘She didn’t tell Joe either?’
‘That was the whackest part. She made me promise not to. Didn’t want to spoil his amazing life in Italy.’ He sneers the last sentence, and I can see why Joe finds him frustrating as a father. ‘After she died, Joe came for me, grilling me for not being bothered enough to tell him. Now I look back at that time I’m surprised and thankful he didn’t knock my head off. When I sobered up recently, I realised what shitty parents we’d been. His mother left him without saying goodbye and his dad was wrecked half the time and an asshole the rest, while his family back in Italy was falling apart.’
‘Falling apart? He wasn’t happy? But he has a girlfriend and daughter. They’re all living together right now.’
Vince looks puzzled. ‘I thought you had a thing going with Joe? As far as I know he’s giving them a bed until she sorts out something here or goes back to Naples.’
He puts some paninis under the grill to toast and gestures for me to sit at the table. ‘He took on the child when she was a year old. They limped on for a few years, but it wasn’t healthy– Maria’s temperament is very different to my son’s, and she pushed his buttons. He worked crazy hours and tried to help her out with childcare, but the relationship imploded eventually. He returned to England when the child was about to reach school age I think– figured he’d done all he could. He heard about his mother’s illness shortly before she passed, and was mad I didn’t tell him earlier.’
‘How do you know the child isn’t his?’
‘He’s “honest Joe” isn’t he? If he says she isn’t then she isn’t. I think Maria had a thing for blue eyes.’ He places the panini on two plates, folds four fish fingers inside it and covers them with salad. He brings the bowl of tartare sauce over to the table.
‘It’s home-made. We’re good with sauce, the men in my family. My father’s horseradish could blow your socks off.’
After lunch, I visit the bathroom to gather my thoughts and have to steady myself against the wall. I miss Joe. More than miss him. Is his dad being straight up? But even if he is, Joe is a still a father figure to a little girl. And family is everything, right?
Vince is doing the dishes when I return. I pick up a tea towel but he stops me. ‘I want to show you something. I had a long talk with Aurora, who shames people far more professionally and regularly than I ever did as The Canceller. And I got some things straight in my head. And then I found this while I was tidying up.’ He holds up the clipboard, where we wrote our five resolutions a couple of months ago. ‘Number one– Go home. It was right here under my nose all along. The first thing we talked about that day I met you. I’m going to book a plane ticket.’
‘And go back to New York? Really?’
‘Not Manhattan. There’s nothing for me there. Thought I’d give L.A. a go. Do a few auditions, try out for a play or two. Who knows, maybe I could tourCancelled?’
I hold out my hand and he passes me the clipboard. ‘If I remember rightly, new toenail clippers and a Pagani were top of your list until I made you rewrite it,’ I say. Flipping the page over, I glimpse my top five. At number one I’ve written ‘family’ and crossed it out.
And crossed it out.
I think back to the years of waiting for my dad to come to his senses and pay me some attention. All those hours on my own struggling with my homework and my hormones. All the years of longing to be part of a family. To get lucky and be loved. And I think of my adopted family– everyone from Eva and Doodle to Johnny Jones and the fruit-seller who always pops a few of my favourite chillies into my grocery order because I once said I liked a bit of spice in my life. And of course, there’s Joe, the friend who became a lover and had the potential for so much more.
‘I need to go, Vince. I’m meeting Aurora and then I thought I’d show my face at an event on the green; Kai’s pre-Christmas hotel launch. Joe’s the new pizza chef. You could come with me if you like?’
‘I have a date. I need the remaining few hours to fumigate my nostrils of nose hair– it sprung up on my fiftieth like wild garlic in a forest.’ He shows me to the door. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. A while back you asked me to write someone a letter of gratitude. I decided to write mine to you.’ He slips an envelope into my hand.
‘Thank you. I have a bone to pick with you in return. I can’t believe you let me try and explain Maslow’s Triangle that day we met when your dad is big in psychology?’
‘Maslow’s Toblerone? I nearly wet my pants trying not to laugh.’
On the way home I rip open his letter and smile at the message.
Thanks for being an awesome counsellor to an asshole actor. You did such a good job you can now consider yourself cancelled.
I meet Aurora at Shepherd’s Bush Market station and take her to the board game café. I can always immerse myself in the rules of Risk if she asks me any sticky questions. I leave her choosing a game while I fetch two coffees from the shop next door with our names spelled wrong on the cup.
I hand one to her and nurse the other. ‘You asked for a cappuccino I think, “Audrey”. My drink has “Maisie” written on the cup. I’m sure she’ll be along in a minute.’
‘Want to tell me why we’ve met at a school games club?’
