Beth knew she should have a stern expression on her face, but she couldn’t help a smile of encouragement at the little boy before her at the front door.
‘It’s all right sweetheart, I’m not angry,’ said Beth.
‘Noah, tell Beth you’re very sorry.’ Alex stood over her son with her hands on her hips.
‘But Mummy, I told you last night, I didn’t take it.’ Noah’s eyes were dark and sorrowful.
Alex exhaled loudly. ‘Remember what Daddy and I always tell you. You’re not in trouble if you tell the truth and apologise.’
‘But I am telling the truth. It wasn’t me.’ Noah stamped his foot.
‘Who was it then? The ring was in your room, in your tooth fairy box.’ Alex folded her arms. ‘Please, Noah,’ she pleaded. ‘Just say sorry to Beth, and we can leave.’
‘It’s fine, Alex. I’m sure he understands that stealing is wrong,’ said Beth, kneeling to look straight into his eyes. Noah nodded.
‘Here, give Aunty Bethy a cuddle.’ The little boy leant in and she felt his arms straining to reach all the way around her neck, his warm breath in her ear. For a second, Beth closed her eyes and remembered what it was like when Chloe and Ethan were this age and life was so much simpler. All a child of that age really wanted from their parents was their time – time to kick around a ball, bike ride in the park, sit down and do colouring, read with them and play snakes and ladders. Physically tiring, yes, but less emotionally exhausting when compared with teenagerhood.
She had a sudden compulsion to take Alex by the shoulders.
Enjoy this time. This is the best time.
But from the exasperated expression on Alex’s face and the look of fear on Noah’s, she concluded that now might not be the right time to be extolling the virtues of five year olds.
Instead, Beth took Noah’s hand. ‘Sweetheart, why don’t you go into my special cupboard in the kitchen where I hide the lollies. There might be a jelly snake for you there.’
‘Just one,’ called Alex after her scurrying son, then spoke in a low voice to Beth. ‘Are you sure it’s wise allowing him into your kitchen unsupervised? He might swipe your wallet while he’s at it.’
‘Oh, Alex. Don’t be silly. Noah’s a good boy at heart.’
‘He’s a budding criminal, that’s what he is,’ said Alex, folding her arms. ‘I really am very sorry about your ring.’
Beth looked at the diamond, sparkling up at her, back where it was supposed to be on her finger. She’d expected to feel happier at its return, but the ring felt loose, like it could fall off at any moment. She twisted it anxiously.
‘Don’t be so hard on him,’ she began. ‘You know, one day you’ll look back …’
‘If you’re about to tell me that one day we’ll look back on these years as the easy times, then please save it.’
Beth recoiled, stung. ‘I’m sorry, I was only trying to make you feel better.’
‘Well it doesn’t, it makes me feel worse, because if these golden days are so fucking hard for us, then what hope do we have for the future?’ She threw her hands up. ‘Mothers always do this. From the minute you’re pregnant and you’re exhausted and enormous and you’re walking round with a bowling ball in your pelvis, it’s like oh you think pregnancy is bad, wait till you actually have the kid, then you have the baby and you’re a sleep-deprived, hormonal wreck, and they say oh, wait till it’s a toddler, then you’ll know what busy is really like. Then they’re at preschool and they’re getting nits and viruses every second week and parents say oh, you wait till you have to deal with homework, it’s a nightmare. At this rate, the only time that actually seems easy is when our kids are forty years old and James and I are nearly dead! I’m sick of it.’
Beth put her hand on Alex’s arm. ‘I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to upset you.’
She sighed. ‘It’s not your fault, Beth. It’s me. I’m cross at myself. Have you ever heard that saying – that the definition of stupidity is to repeat the same thing over and over and expect a different result.’
‘I think they use that in Alcoholics Anonymous.’
Alex nodded. ‘That makes sense, actually, because I feel like I’ve been so wedded, almost addicted, to this dream for nearly twenty years, of having the big career and the nice house and saving the world through law and I keep trying to make it happen but I seem to be making things worse and worse for everyone. And I’m not even sure that it’s what I want any more. I think my bosses are probably tokenistic arseholes who actually don’t deserve my time and effort.’
‘So maybe it’s not you that’s the problem, it’s the dream,’ said Beth.
‘Maybe.’ Alex put a protective hand over her stomach.
‘Mummy, Mummy.’ Noah half-ran, half-walked down the hallway, his hands cupped carefully. ‘Look what I got!’
‘What? Show me. Not another diamond, is it?’
‘No. It’s a ladybird. I found it in on the floor in Beth’s kitchen. Look, it even has black dots and a red back.’ Noah un-cupped his hands. ‘It’s like magic, isn’t it?’ He spoke with wonder in his voice.
Over his head, Alex gave Beth a wry smile of concession.
‘You’re a sweet boy.’ Alex kissed her son’s head. ‘Now say goodbye to Beth.’
‘Bye, Beth.’ Noah set off down the path, followed by Alex, who stopped at the gate.
‘Hey, have I RSVP’d yet for the party?’
‘The party?’
‘The anniversary party. Twenty years of your wedded bliss, remember? It’s only a few weeks away and I’m pretty sure I haven’t yet told you that we’re definitely coming, presuming it’s still happening, is it?’ Alex raised her eyebrow.
Oh goodness, the party. In the whirlwind of setting up Nourish, and figuring out what to do about Max, she’d conveniently managed to forget that eighty of their nearest and dearest friends would be landing on their doorstep in just under three weeks’ time.
‘Still happening. Yes. Cara and I have a big cooking session planned for Thursday. Things we can cook ahead and freeze for the party. We could always do with another pair of hands …’ She trailed off as an expression of horror slid over Alex’s face. Of course. The poor woman hated cooking and she had a million and one things on her plate. ‘You know what … don’t worry. We’ll be fine.’
As she waved at Alex, the diamond caught the sun, causing a blind spot in her eye.
Beth blinked, and blinked again before closing the door. Damn ring.
She slipped it off her finger with ease.
‘I’m heading off now.’ Max stood in the kitchen, dressed in his golf gear and Beth quickly slipped the ring into her pocket.
‘You’re playing golf today? I thought we might have gone bowling or something with the kids.’ Beth couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. As much as she’d sort of come to grips with Max’s infidelity, a small part of her wanted to keep playing happy families, at least until the very end. Lying in bed that morning, still half-asleep, she’d fantasised about them all going to the beach together, frolicking in the waves, having body-surfing races, which Chloe would inevitably win. That was until she got up and discovered the day was too breezy and changeable – brilliant sunshine one minute, cool and overcast the next. Now, standing in front of Max, with his golfing gloves in one hand, she saw the vision for what it was, a silly little dream.
‘Chloe’s got special squad today, remember, so I’m going to drop her on the way, and Ethan’s going to a mate’s to study all day, and he’s going to catch a lift with us as well. They’re in the car, ready to go. I just came to say bye.’ He smiled. ‘So, you’re free. You’ve got the whole house to yourself.’
Beth forced a smile. ‘Great. Well, have fun.’
With a wink, he was gone. Beth trudged back into the living room and stood there, unsure what to do with herself. She’d gone over to Cara’s early to finish off the cooking, figuring it would leave her free to spend the rest of Sunday with her family. So much for that plan. At least Cara was in a good mood, thanks to that lovely Will Parry. With such an upbeat feeling in the shed, the cook had gone well. Beth had remembered to taste the chicken cacciatore at each step, the salt grinder close at hand. There was even enough left over to bring some home for her family’s dinner. If they ever returned.
Beth looked about the room. There was nothing to do. The house was clean, the washing up to date, and the fridge full of food.
She drummed her fingers against the bench top. What to do … What to do …
Read a book, perhaps?
No, a book required too much concentration.
Listen to music? Read a newspaper?
She wasn’t in the mood for that either.
Emails.
She could check her emails. Clearing her inbox always gave her a small sense of achievement. Beth sat down at the computer in the study and logged in.
Ten new emails, mostly from friends and family, confirming their attendance at the anniversary party.
Can’t wait for it!
We’ll be there with bells on.
Twenty years! What an incredible achievement!
Beth dutifully responded with an effusive Wonderful! So glad you can make it, checked off their names from her RSVP list, then deleted each and every one.
There were two emails left. One from The Primal Guy, which she deleted without reading, leaving one remaining.
Dance Your Way to Fitness.
Beth clicked on it. It was from Max’s gym, announcing a new Zumba class for beginners. Beth swivelled on her chair and reread the details. Full body workout. Get your heart pumping and your booty shaking. Incredible instructors. Pay by the class. Absolute beginners welcome! 10 am Sunday.
Beth’s hand hovered over the delete button.
It was twenty-five years since she’d last taken a dance lesson, and that was a flamenco class, taken on a whim at the height of Strictly Ballroom mania where every second person was wearing Bonds singlets as going-out attire, and John Paul Young was cool again, thanks to ‘Love Is in the Air’.
Should she?
What would she wear?
No, it was too silly.
The RSVPs had reminded her of other jobs she needed to do, like check the trestle tables and chairs that they’d need for the party. Yes, that was something she needed to do! Buoyed with purpose, she closed the email window and headed outside, down the path. There was no one in the street and Beth tried to ignore the nagging feeling that it was because they were all spending time with their families.
In the gloom of the garage Beth stopped to let her eyes adjust to the lack of light.
What was that over in the corner?
She squinted and walked closer.
She touched it.
Max’s golf bag. He’d left it behind. She must ring him. Let him know. He’d feel like such a fool. Going to golf without his golf clubs.
Halfway out, Beth stopped.
Max wasn’t an idiot. Beth was the idiot.
He hadn’t forgotten the clubs at all. He was meeting with her.
Suddenly, Alex’s words rang in her ear. The definition of stupidity is to do the same thing over and over and expect a different result.
Slamming the garage door shut, Beth scurried inside where the computer screen was still giving off its ghostly glow. Reopening the email, she scribbled down the address of the gym. It was time to do something different. Something just for her. If Max could be a selfish pig, then why shouldn’t she do something for herself as well? Something just to make her feel good, that didn’t involve adultery, or the children.
Dance. Yes, take a dancing lesson. It was perfect.
Realising she had nothing suitable to wear in her own closet of chinos and knits, she went straight to Chloe’s wardrobe, which was full to overflowing with leggings and crop tops. Admittedly, they were a few sizes too small and no doubt her daughter would have a meltdown if she knew her mother intended to wear them out in public. But Lycra was designed to stretch, wasn’t it?
From Chloe’s cupboard, she picked out a pair of the larger-looking leggings, with a subtle ocelot print, and a plain black crop top.
She stood in front of the mirror and surveyed her body dispassionately. She wasn’t used to seeing herself this way. Usually, her morning mirror check was simply to make sure her hair wasn’t a mess and her eyeliner in the wrong spot. She didn’t pay much attention to her body because it was normally covered by her standard uniform of loose-fitting top and slim-fit-with-stretch pants. Thanks to her nutrition background, she’d never really had to worry about weight gain. She ate sensibly and walked regularly. Food was fuel and Beth liked the feeling of putting good fuel into her body.
But now that she looked at her body, with only a few swatches of Lycra separating her from total nudity, she realised it was really quite a good body, given her age and the fact of having carried two children. She still had a waist and Chloe’s crop top was doing a good job of keeping her breasts in an acceptable position. The high-waisted leggings covered the stretch marks and it seemed her bottom had somehow resisted the forces of gravity and stayed in relatively the same spot as it was twenty years ago. She could claim no credit for her shapely legs, however. They were inherited from her mother.
‘Not too bad,’ she muttered to herself, sailing out of the bathroom with a spring in her trainer-clad step.
The gym was five minutes away by car and while Beth usually objected to the idea of driving to an exercise class, she didn’t feel quite brave enough to walk down Cuthbert Close in Chloe’s activewear. It had been quiet earlier, but that could change in an instant. Mrs Nelson at number eight tended to water her garden every Sunday morning, and if she was there she would no doubt want a chat. Besides, it was quite frankly too chilly to be outdoors in such flesh-baring attire. Autumn was upon them and it was one thing for a room full of strangers to observe the outline of her nipple through Chloe’s overstretched crop top, but quite another for Mrs Nelson to peer at them over the reading glasses that hung at permanent half-mast off her nose. Beth grabbed her phone and keys, slung them into a recyclable shopping bag and headed back to the garage. She wasn’t quite sure what type of bag people took to the gym but figured a green shopping bag would be a less appealing option for thieves, in case of there being no lockers.
‘Hello, Beth.’
She jumped and the bag slipped from her shoulder. It was Charlie Devine, and she was wearing almost exactly the same outfit as Beth but in the opposite colour – white leggings and a crop top, along with the ubiquitous diamond earrings. Slung across her body was a tiny, white quilted-leather bag, giving the outfit an edge that Beth’s shopper bag completely failed to deliver.
‘Good morning, Charlie!’ she said too brightly, overcompensating for the oily sense of unease that had settled in her stomach. ‘Looks like we’ve got the same idea. Off to the gym?’
Charlie frowned. ‘No.’
Beth waited for her to offer more but the woman just stood there. Beth couldn’t bear the silence. ‘Well, I’m off to my first ever Zumba class and I’m feeling a bit nervous actually. You’re a dancer, aren’t you? What can I expect?’
‘It’s a long time since I taught dance.’
‘Really? That’s such a shame. I’d love to have been a dancer. Didn’t really have the flexibility for it, though, and my parents didn’t think it was a very sensible career path.’
Charlie raised her eyebrows.
‘For me,’ Beth went on. ‘I’m sure it was fabulous for you, but I really wasn’t good enough. Does Talia dance?’
‘She’s not interested.’
‘Ah, shame. Well, I guess you can’t control what your children enjoy, or don’t enjoy. They are their own people, and Talia seems a sweet girl.’
Charlie checked her watch. ‘I really need to be leaving.’
To meet with my husband? No, don’t be paranoid.
‘Yes, of course. Don’t let me hold you up.’
Charlie nodded and turned to get into her car.
‘Charlie, sorry,’ Beth called, and the other woman spun around. ‘One more thing.’ Shyly, she stepped out from behind her car. ‘Do I look okay? I mean, does this look completely ridiculous on me?’
Charlie looked her up and down, with an unemotional, analytical eye, like she was appraising a turnip, or some other equally uninteresting, inanimate object. ‘Your body is fine, but you look uncomfortable.’
‘It’s actually quite surprisingly comfortable,’ Beth protested.
‘No, I mean, you can tell the outfit’s not you. It’s like you’re wearing a costume. It’s obvious you’re not feeling it.’
‘Well … it is more revealing than what I’m used to,’ Beth admitted.
‘You need to own it. No apologies. And if you’re not feeling it, just fake it. Square your shoulders and lift from the chest. Fake it till you make it.’
As Charlie spoke, Beth found herself automatically obeying the woman’s commands. And yes, it did make a difference.
‘That’s better.’ Charlie nodded. ‘But you’re still not there. Some people just can’t carry it off.’ With a dismissive shrug, she hopped into her car and sped off down the street, leaving Beth to cough in the wake of her sulphurous petrol fumes.
‘Actually, I’ll have you know I am feeling it, Charlie Devine.’ Beth pulled her shoulders so far back she could feel it in her vertebrae. Her breasts lifted in response. ‘This is the real me. And I feel hot.’
Opening the car door, she flung her shopper bag into the passenger seat, started up the engine and roared out of Cuthbert Close, just as quickly as Charlie Devine had.