‘Even just a caravan for a week? By the sea. You like the sea, Jo.’ Louise pulls out a stool beside her, leaning on the wooden top of the kitchen island as she balances herself. She’s not letting up on the holiday. ‘I’d offer you Mum and Dad’s little cottage, but they’re renting it out now. Airbnb.’
Jo whips back to the moment, smiling at Louise. ‘Yes, yes I like caravans,’ she says, knowing she would have refused the cottage even if it had been an option. She could never go back there – not after… She shudders, hoping Louise doesn’t notice. ‘They’re so cosy, aren’t they? The pitter-patter of the virtually guaranteed rain on the roof.’ Her voice quivers, sounding almost delirious as it transforms into a laugh. She’s trying, really she is, and ever grateful to Louise for trying to inspire her.
‘Will and I stayed in a caravan at Harlyn Bay a few years ago. An autumn break to miss the crowds.’ Miss the higher prices, she thinks but doesn’t say, even though she knows Louise and Archie aren’t like that, not in the least bit snobby. They like nice things, earn good money, but they like real, too. And they like – liked – her and Will. Part-time drama teacher and seamstress meet obstetrician and solicitor. But now they only have her to like, because Will is gone. Somehow Jo feels as if she’s failed their best friends, let the side down. Last man standing, playing with only half a team.
‘Oh, that’ll be Ted,’ Louise says at the sound of the buzzer, sliding off her stool and wriggling down her stretchy work skirt. Her tight top hugs her belly, her protruding navel the cherry on top.
You look beautiful pregnant, Jo thinks, watching her go to the intercom and buzz their guest in… You’re everything I hoped you’d be and more, everything I wanted to be. Louise and Jo had been friends since high school, then lost touch in their twenties. But fate had brought them together again years later. A woman, a wife, a lover, a professional… and soon to be a mother. Jo smiles. I’m so happy for you, Louise.
‘I’m so happy for you,’ Jo says as she shakes hands with Ted. Christ, did I actually say that? ‘Pleased… I mean, I’m so pleased to meet you,’ she adds, forcing a smile, seeing Ted’s confused expression.
‘You too, Jo,’ Ted says, his hand lingering around hers. Jo notices his easy manner, his kind eyes, and can see why Louise and Archie have befriended him. A replacement for their depleted portfolio.
Friends for all occasions, that’s what Will once said, lying in bed, Jo’s head resting on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of him after they’d tried yet again. And it’s true – Louise matches her guests to the occasion like she matches her shoes to her handbags. Will reckoned they were their go-to ‘guests for all occasions’. Solid. Dependable. And always good company. The reliable old-timers. Jo had laughed, trailing her fingers through the tight black fuzz of Will’s chest. ‘We’re an awesome team,’ she’d said, kissing him, feeling so happy.
And now we are not, Jo thinks as Ted finally relinquishes her hand. Will and I are not awesome any more. Not a team. And neither am I happy. Ted goes over to Archie at the stove, taking the glass of wine Louise offers as he’s passing. Louise glances over at Jo, giving her one of those it’ll be ok winks while touching her belly.
Several weeks ago, she asked Jo to be Speck’s godmother. Jo said yes, even though she didn’t want to be. Didn’t want to be any kind of ‘mother’ if it wasn’t a part of Will. They’d been trying to conceive naturally for the best part of two years and had finally succumbed to getting help, with their first round of IVF scheduled. And then Will disappeared.
‘So you two met at work?’ Jo says when they’re eating. She lays down her knife and fork, glancing between the two men. She doesn’t want to appear uninterested.
‘On the squash court, to be precise,’ Archie says, raising his eyebrows. ‘But yes, Ted’s in the department.’
Jo looks at Ted’s hands, seeing they’re equally as clean and smooth as Archie’s. Big, capable hands, and she wonders how many babies they’ve delivered. Archie quoted her his stats once – it was in the thousands. Jo would only like one baby and now, at thirty-nine, falling in love with someone as deeply as she loved Will is not going to happen before her time is up. She can’t betray Will’s memory, even though she hates him for disappearing, pretty much wants to kill him for leaving her – if he isn’t already dead.
‘So go on, fess up. Who beat who?’ Jo asks, forcing a smile.
‘He’s good,’ Ted says. ‘But not yet good enough.’ His confidence doesn’t just show in the tone of his voice but in the way his shoulders sit broadly in his fitted pale blue shirt, his strong forearms, his purposeful laugh and those kind eyes. He’s nice, Jo thinks. But not nice enough. Not Will. She knows Louise has arranged tonight on purpose. Thinks it’s time for her to move on.
‘There’s a casual ongoing competition between staff,’ Archie explains. ‘I was hands-down winner until Dr Mason muscled in.’ He laughs.
‘Everyone needs a good shake-up from time to time,’ Ted bats back, eyeing Jo over the rim of his glass. Jo feels a sweat break out.
‘Excuse me,’ she says, retreating to the toilet, leaning her head back against the door when she’s alone, sighing out. Will, Will, Will… she thinks. You’d like it here tonight, your cool wit quite able to take on Dr Mason and Archie. Your smooth voice out-smoothing the pair of them, me watching you, loving you, appreciating you. Maybe I didn’t do that enough. Appreciate you.
She flushes, washes her hands and returns to the table, steadier now she’s had a moment. She has to go with them, the ‘moments’. Succumb to time out, reset herself, however long it takes. Sometimes it’s days of shutting herself away.
‘Louise tells me you’re planning a holiday,’ Ted says as Jo picks up her knife and fork again.
Jo flashes her a look. ‘She did?’
‘Can’t you tell she needs one?’ Louise says, getting away with it only because of the caring undertones.
‘I’m fine,’ Jo says by way of defence. ‘It’s just the cost of it. You know…’ She smiles again, a brief glance up from her plate. ‘Holidays are expensive and every penny counts right now.’
‘Have you ever thought of house-sitting?’ Ted says. ‘It’s free and there are some beautiful places to be had. A pal of mine does it. You know, one of those drifter types who gets off feeding other people’s dogs and living their dreams by proxy. He’s a writer. Well, he wants to be a writer, hence the “no fixed abode” all being part of his bohemian image.’ Ted laughs. ‘But seriously, it could be an option for you.’
‘That’s a great idea, Ted,’ Jo hears Louise say as she tries to imagine herself in someone else’s home. She can’t.
‘Well, I…’
‘You should investigate,’ Archie chimes in. ‘I bet there are websites.’
‘Indeed there are,’ Ted says. ‘Sitters and owners are all rated and have feedback so you know what you’re getting into. You could pick somewhere by the coast or the Lakes. Even overseas.’