The temperature had already risen and the wind was picking up, as I left my house. There was no sign of Will tonight, although his car was parked on the drive. Despite my earlier desire never to clap eyes on him again, I almost wished he was at his window, seeing me go down my drive and into the taxi, where Freya was waiting. He knew I was going to her graduation tonight and I wouldn’t have minded him seeing me in my new dress, because I felt so good in it.
It was structured cream jersey – I think they call the material ‘scuba’ or something as it resembles the fabric of a thinner wetsuit – and it didn’t just hug my curves, it rubbed them down, buffed them up and then cooked them dinner. It had a low-ish scoop neck that sat at just the right point, showing just the right amount of cleavage, and those slightly off-the-shoulder cap sleeves that hide those horrid bits at the top of your arms. It made me look as though I went in at the waist and had fantastic boobs. Plus, my bum looked amazing. You could rest three bottles of port and a cheese dome full of stilton on it, but it looked amazing.
This dress had been worth every penny. I was worth it.
I’d added a bling-y necklace and earrings, and a gorgeous chocolate-brown wool cape with a fur trim that I’d found at the bottom of one of the boxes I still hadn’t unpacked. After a good shake, and a hanging up in the bathroom while I took a steamy, scented bath, the cape looked more than serviceable. I felt good. What a shame Will hadn’t see me. What a shame things would never be the same with him.
‘You look nice, Mum,’ said my daughter, as I got into the cab.
‘Oh, Freya, you look amazing.’
She really did. She was in the customary black gown. She had a mortar board on her lap. The sight of those two things alone made me want to burst into tears of pride. She’d done it. My girl. She was graduating.
‘Like it?’ she asked, picking the mortar board up and waving it around. She’d told me a few months back you’re not allowed to throw them in official graduation photos any more – health and safety, apparently; they Photoshop the mortar boards back in afterwards – but I’d told her she must throw it as often as she could and I would take photos, on my phone. I was going to take lots and lots of photos.
‘I love it. What are you wearing underneath your gown?’ I asked.
She gave me a flash. ‘My black taffeta.’
‘Oh, beautiful!’ Then she held up one leg for me to admire – it was adorned with sheer navy tights and very smart navy court shoes.
‘See!’ I said, ‘You don’t always have to wear rainbow leggings and those huge, hessian jumpers.’
‘They’re not hessian, Mum, they’re mohair. And you know I wear smart stuff to work.’
‘I know,’ I smiled. I was definitely back in full ‘mother’ mode – Eddy from AbFab was waving goodbye. ‘Whatever. You look amazing. And look at your hair!’ It was in a beautiful fishtail plait that went over one shoulder.
I’d heard a lot about Hannah. She was Freya’s best friend.
‘She’s very clever.’
‘Yeah. She knows her onions.’
I’d been looking forward to this time alone with my daughter, as once we got there, there wouldn’t be much chance, and I’d have the whole Jeff and Gabby thing to have to deal with. Plus I hadn’t seen much of her lately. Freya hadn’t even had time to come and see my new house. Well, she’d looked round it with me before I’d bought it (I’d used a different estate agency to Jeff’s, of course), but not since I’d moved in, although, actually, there wasn’t much difference except now it had more stuff in it. Next week, I promised myself, I was going to get cracking with the renovations and the rest of the decorating – I’d get a man in or a woman, several if need be, whatever it took – and I’d get it done. As lovely as my time painting with Will had been, and it had been so lovely (stop it! stop it now!), I didn’t need a neighbour to help me; I could organise things myself. Then I’d get Freya to come over and see it in its new glory. And then I’d have my housewarming party.
‘Ring road or the A3?’ called out the driver.
‘Ring road,’ I said. ‘Please.’ Didn’t he know? Perhaps he didn’t have The Knowledge – perhaps he just had a Vague Comprehension…
‘I’m so proud of you, Freya.’
‘Don’t start, Mum.’
‘I want to start – I am proud of you! You’re so clever and so, so brilliant, far more brilliant than either me or your father – especially your father.’ I winked. She smiled. ‘And if I want to tell you so, then I shall.’
‘Thanks, Mum. Hey, are you going to be okay, tonight?’ she asked. ‘With Dad and Gabby being there.’
‘Yes, darling.’ I took her hand and for once she let me, without squirming away. ‘I was a bit of a wreck there, for a while, but I’m really okay now. I think I’m strong enough to face both of them.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘I’m sorry I was such an awful mother for such a long time.’
‘You weren’t, Mum. Honestly,’ said Freya, giving my hand a squeeze back. ‘You couldn’t have been anything other than how you were. Your husband left you for your best friend!’
I winced. It still hurt. It would always hurt. It must have hurt Freya, too, what her father did.
‘It took me a while to get over it,’ I agreed. ‘But it’s all behind me now. I’ll be perfectly civil to them both… but I can’t promise I won’t stick my tongue out behind their backs at least once.’
Freya laughed then added, in a soft voice, ‘All things considered, I think you’ve done really brilliantly, Mum.’
‘Left at these traffic lights, or do I hang a right?’ asked the taxi driver. Oh for goodness’ sake, we were trying to have a moment here!
‘Thank you, darling,’ I said to Freya, and I removed my hand from hers as it was now beginning to squirm, just a little. ‘And it’s a left,’ I said to the cab driver.
‘So, what happened with the date?’ Freya asked. ‘The middle-aged landscape gardener?’
‘Ha. He certainly doesn’t see himself as middle-aged. I think that’s part of the problem.’
‘How do you mean?
‘He turned out to be a kind of Peter Pan boy-about-town and too much of a drinker and a player, really. Not for me,’ I added.
‘Dead end,’ pronounced the driver, from the front, before making a big huffing sound. Yes, it had been, I thought.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Freya, to me, not the driver.
‘Thank you,’ I shrugged. ‘It’s fine. It really is. So…?’ I called to the increasingly annoying driver, as in what do you want us to do about it?
‘I’ll turn round, shall I?’
‘Might be for the best.’
As the driver did a U-turn, I thought about also telling Freya about Will and Dex but decided against it – especially the lusty Dex lunge – there are some things a daughter really doesn’t need to know, and I couldn’t bear to put it all into words again. I needed to save myself the embarrassment.
‘What time is Caspar’s booked for again?’ I asked. ‘Nine?’ This was the part of the evening I was dreading the most.
‘Yes, nine. There’ll be quite a few of us. It’ll be dinner and then a live band. I know the band, actually, and they’re absolutely brilliant!’
‘Fantastic!’ I said. I liked a live band.
We were finally on the street where the St Mary’s Cathedral was. I realised, too, that Will was right – we were just up the road from St Martin’s hospital. Will. No, I wouldn’t think about him. Not tonight. I’d deal with my hunky next door neighbour and all my tragic thoughts about him another day.
As we approached St Mary’s, huge rain drops started landing on the windscreen, just as predicted.
‘It’s raining,’ said Freya.
‘I thought it might,’ I said, reaching into the footwell in front of me. ‘That’s why I brought the umbrella.’
She sat forward suddenly, looking at me earnestly. ‘You’re not going to go all soppy on me tonight, are you, Mum? I don’t want to look over and see you blubbing like a crazy person.’
I smiled at her.
‘I can’t promise I won’t shed the odd tear, but I do promise I’m not going to embarrass you. I’ll be all serene and dignified with your father and… whatsherface… and I’ll really try not to be a blubbering wreck as my baby – my one and only beautiful baby girl – graduates.’
Freya grinned and rolled her eyes.
‘You have reached your destination,’ said the taxi driver, drolly.
‘I’m going to make it up to you, Freya,’ I said, as we got out of the taxi and into the rain. ‘Starting with tonight. I’m going to make you as proud of me as I am of you.’