I sank onto the double bed, my belongings strewn all around me. When Rachel had collected my stuff from Brad’s flat, I was sure I didn’t have that much. Yet between Rachel, Luke and I, it had taken two trips to get everything into my new home.
Home. I shivered at the sound of the word. But as I looked around this bright, sun-filled room, I realised that’s exactly what these four walls were. I bit my lip. It wasn’t where I had expected to find myself but when I stood up and peered out of the large sash window that overlooked the Circus, I felt a shiver of delight at the decadence of living in such a posh house.
When Phil had told us the location of Lydia’s house, neither Rachel or I could believe it. Even Matilda had let out a cheery wail, which we all assumed meant she was as delighted as we were. After all, the Circus was one of those very famous, very prestigious addresses where you couldn’t quite believe real people lived, as it seemed to be too perfect.
As I watched two children play a game of French cricket on the circular lawn outside, I hugged myself. Although I would never in a million years have chosen this particular fresh start, I had realised as soon as I knocked on Lydia’s front door that fate was finally smiling on me and I didn’t want to mess it up.
If I’m honest, I thought Lydia was a bit prickly at first and I was glad she became a bit friendlier after a cup of tea. Though frankly, after all she had been through I thought it was a miracle she was still standing. When she explained her situation to me, I could understand why she felt a bit reluctant to welcome me inside with open arms. Like me, she was having a change forced upon her. I could only hope that she would make the best of it, just as I was trying to do.
It seemed we had a lot to learn from each other. Because although I found it incredible that in the twenty-first century Lydia had known nothing about the finances she shared with her husband, she was still pretty savvy. That crack about keeping the ring told me that beneath the navy Marks & Sparks twinset, there was a firecracker waiting for her chance to shine.
I stared down at the sparkler that still sat on my ring finger. I had been so excited when Brad had whisked me off to Las Vegas and proposed on a gondola ride at the Venetian. When he had somehow got down on one knee and placed it on my finger in the narrow boat, I’d felt so happy. It had cost a fortune and I’d loved wearing it, but now it felt gaudy and cheap. Just the existence of it was weighing me down and without further thought I slipped it over my knuckle and off my finger. Holding it up to the light, I admired the way it sparkled for one last time and then slipped it into my jewellery box for safe keeping – I would know what to do with it when the time was right. Maybe Lydia was onto something: maybe I should sell the thing. After all it wasn’t as if I wanted to keep the reminder of how my best friend and fiancé had betrayed me.
As my thoughts turned to Cara, I wondered what she would make of Lydia and the fact I was now living in such a posh house. And then I realised with a sudden jolt that Cara wouldn’t be able to give me her opinion because Cara wouldn’t know, just as she would never know anything about my life ever again. It hit me then in a way it hadn’t hit me before: Cara really was gone, and I wanted to wail, the agony of losing her felt so raw. My mum had always drummed it into me that the power of female friendship was far more important than a romance with any man. Sandra had been living proof of that. I think that was one of the reasons I had never really bothered about boys before Brad came along. I hadn’t needed their approval or validation in a way that many girls my age did. I had Cara, and she had me, only now I didn’t. I had lost a relationship that had been formed before I was born and it felt too terrifying for words. I was just about to fling myself onto my bed and scream into my pillow when there was a knock at the door and Lydia’s smiling face appeared. ‘How are you getting on, dear?’
I did my best to plaster on a smile, waving at her to come inside. ‘Fine, I think. Just working out where to put everything. Is there anything you’d like me to do or not do?’
Lydia frowned for a moment. ‘I don’t think so. You’re probably a bit old to start Blu-tacking posters to the wall, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, my Backstreet Boys days are over you’ll be glad to know.’
‘Backstreet what?’ Lydia’s face clouded over with confusion before she shrugged and changed the subject. ‘I just came to ask if you would like to join me and Luke for supper?’
I smiled gratefully. With all the moving, hefting and lifting I had done today I was starving but hadn’t thought to get myself any food. ‘That’s very kind, but only if it’s no trouble.’
Lydia’s face lit up. ‘We would love to have you. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes.’
Checking my watch, it was my turn to frown in confusion. Surely there was some mistake. On busy days at work I had eaten lunch at around this time. ‘It’s only five o’clock.’ I pointed out.
‘Exactly, supper time. It’s just chicken Kiev and salad.’ She smiled, before her expression changed to one of panic. ‘Oh lord, you’re not one of those vegetarians, are you?’
I couldn’t help laughing at the look of horror on her face and swallowed any feelings of annoyance I had at eating so early. It was sweet of her to try and make me feel welcome even though I didn’t usually eat dinner at this time. I had to make a success of this odd house share and didn’t want to fall at the first hurdle – after all, wasn’t life all about compromise? ‘No, and that sounds lovely,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
As she turned to walk back down the stairs, I followed her into the kitchen and pushed all thoughts of Cara firmly from my mind. Instead I decided to see if there was anything I could do to assist. The ad had said help was required and I wanted to get off on the right foot.
After Lydia and Luke waved my offers of assistance away, I took a seat at the large kitchen table and admired the garden view. It was such a lovely room and, despite the darkening skies outside, was surprisingly light. Pine cabinets lined two of the walls, while gleaming white worktops reflected the light, making the whole place feel warm and inviting.
I turned to watch Luke mash a huge saucepan of potatoes. To my horror I saw he wasn’t going easy on the butter and cream. I was a keen runner, but that amount of fat was going to cost me a few extra miles this week.
‘Only one way to eat mash,’ he said with a grin, licking the spoon before sticking it in the dishwasher. ‘Hannah never lets me eat like this and as it’s my last day, I’m going to make the most of Mum’s cooking – or rather my cooking.’
I chuckled. ‘I didn’t realise you were going so soon.’
‘Yes, unfortunately, work have been ringing wanting to know when I’m coming back.’ He sighed, dividing the mash across three plates. ‘That, and Hannah’s worried the baby’s going to come any day even though she’s not due for another five months.’
Lydia smiled at her son. ‘Time to go back, love. Life carries on.’
I couldn’t fail to notice the fleeting look of sadness that passed between their matching blue eyes and I realised they had lost something far more important than I had. Lydia had lost the love of her life, her best friend of fifty years. Luke, his father, a relationship that could never be replaced. What had I lost? A fickle man and equally fickle best friend. The love I thought ebbed and flowed between us was non-existent, unlike the love Luke and Lydia so obviously shared.
‘So Erin, have you given any thought to job hunting?’ Luke asked as he doled out the plates and sat down.
Lydia flashed him a look of warning. ‘Luke, Erin has only just arrived. She’s paid a deposit and her first month’s rent in advance – I think we can save the lectures, don’t you?’
Luke had the good grace to flush with colour. ‘Sorry, Erin. I didn’t mean to sound as though I was hassling you. I was just making conversation. It was stupid of me, sorry.’
I waved his concerns away. ‘It’s fine. You were right to ask. If some strange woman was living with my mum then I’d want to make sure they weren’t some freeloader as well.’
‘Really, dear, there’s no pressure at all.’ Lydia said, her voice rich with concern. ‘You’ve had a traumatic time. You need to take care of yourself. Don’t rush from the frying pan into the fire.’
‘Thank you,’ I said gratefully. ‘The truth is I don’t know about work at the minute, everything has happened so suddenly. Rachel says that there might be a job going at her firm, but she’s still on maternity leave. Otherwise I thought I might start looking over in Bristol. I could easily commute on the train.’
‘Just don’t feel you have to rush into anything,’ Lydia said comfortingly. ‘I see too many young people running around complaining of stress these days. You need to take stock a bit, find something you love.’
I smiled as I took another mouthful of mash and groaned in delight. I had to admit that it did taste incredible.
‘So were antiques something you and Harry loved then, Lydia?’ I asked.
The moment I mentioned antiques it was as though a light had been switched on and I had a feeling I had discovered another of Lydia’s passions besides this house.
‘Yes, I think they were. I had worked in an auction house and loved the antiques we handled from day one. I was always fascinated with the history behind every piece. Harry had learned the trade up in London after his father told him he either had to get a job or go in the Army! He chose the former after hating his time doing National Service and a friend of a friend got him a job shifting boxes for an antique dealer. His love grew from there.’
I chuckled. My own father was American and although he came to the UK to study law at 18, always feared he would be drafted into the US military, so I could understand Harry’s reluctance to do anything but join-up.
‘And were there any antiques you and Harry specialised in when you had your shop?’
‘We used to go all over the world,’ Lydia said, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalled happier times. ‘I liked early twentieth-century Burmese – or Myanmar you would call it now, wouldn’t you? Well, anyway, I always enjoyed collecting Oriental pottery. Harry was more of a furniture and wood man.’
‘Remember that Chippendale sofa he bought that was a knock-off.’ Luke grinned, his eyes lighting up at the memory.
Lydia shook her head, eyes twinkling with laughter. ‘He knew it was a knock-off as well. But he was determined.’
‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Surely as an antiques collector a fake is the last thing you want to buy?’
‘Harry thought it had once belonged to Simon of Simon and Garfunkel fame.’ Lydia smiled. ‘I expect you’re too young to remember, but they were huge at one point and Harry and I adored them.’
‘You even started that club, do you remember, Mum? What was it called?’ Luke gestured excitedly.
Lydia grinned. ‘The Simon and Garfunkel Appreciation Society. We had twelve members at one point – all antiques dealers. We used to go all over Europe and have impromptu meetings after we’d spent the day selling our hearts and lungs out at fairs. Our AGM was after the famous Paris fair in September. We’d spend the night at a little restaurant in the eleventh arrondissement armed with Simon and Garfunkel records where the waiters would play them for us all evening long.’
I clapped my hands together in delight. ‘How lovely.’
A dreamy look passed across Lydia’s face as she strolled down memory lane. ‘It was after a Simon and Garfunkel concert I told Harry I was pregnant with Luke.’
Luke raised his eyes. ‘Did you? You never told me that before.’
‘I’m sure I did.’ Lydia frowned. ‘Well, anyway, we had gone to see them in 1970 at the Olympia. It was wonderful. And afterwards as we walked out into the cool Parisian night air, I broke it to Harry that he was going to become a father. We summoned all twelve members of the Society afterwards to celebrate and drink pastis well into the night.’
‘Mum!’ Luke hissed. ‘You can’t drink when you’re pregnant.’
Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘It was a different time, Luke. Besides, you’re all right, aren’t you?’
I could sense Luke was about to say something else so I cut across him before the evening could sour. ‘Well, if I had been around then you would have had thirteen members.’
Putting her fork down in surprise, Lydia gazed at me open-mouthed. ‘You’re too young to know who Simon and Garfunkel are!’
‘Not at all! I was brought up on them,’ I told her triumphantly. ‘My dad always used to make me listen to “The Sound of Silence” when I was a baby apparently.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘It was his attempt at irony I think, when I was busy screaming my lungs out preventing him and Mum getting some sleep. Anyway, something must have stuck because I loved them growing up and still love them today.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ Lydia gasped.
‘Neither can I,’ said Luke drily.
‘Well, Erin, I still have a stack of records should you ever want to join me and listen to them one day. I usually stick them on when I’m doing the dusting.’ Lydia shook her head in wonder.
‘Or drinking a glass of wine, which is nearly every night.’ Luke laughed gently as he finished his last forkful of mash and cleared the plates.
Lydia swatted him with her tea towel. ‘When you get to my age, dear boy, you too will have earned the right to a glass of wine each evening while listening to your favourite band. And speaking of wine, I think it’s time you pour Erin and I one.’
Luke did as he was told and poured us each a glass of delicious Malbec. Then, standing with the tea towel folded over his arm, looking for all the world like a sommelier, he addressed us both in a mock posh voice. ‘Anything else, ladies?’
Lydia roared with laughter. ‘Not tonight, Jeeves. As you were.’
Tugging his forelock, Luke gave a small bow. ‘Very good, ma’am. In that case I shall leave you to it and get on with my packing. I want to have a lie-in tomorrow as I won’t get a wink of sleep on the flight.’
With that, Luke dashed off upstairs. I took a sip of wine and found myself thinking about my mum and dad. They had been on my mind a lot the last few days. I couldn’t help wondering what they would think about Brad, Cara and the fact I had now moved in with Lydia.
Mum and Dad would like Lydia. No nonsense, a sense of humour and direct, she was just their cup of tea. As for Brad, I knew that if they heard about our break-up, they would open the champagne. I wasn’t sure what they would say about Cara. She was an unofficial part of the family and so I was pretty sure they would feel horrified and betrayed.
‘Penny for them.’ Lydia said, interrupting my train of thought.
I smiled. ‘Just thinking about my mum and dad.’
‘You should invite them over.’ Lydia’s face lit up at the idea. ‘I was never fond of socialising, but I did always used to throw good dinner parties. I would love to meet them, and I’m sure they would want to know a bit more about the old bird you’re sharing a house with.’
‘That’s very kind,’ I said. ‘But I haven’t spoken to my parents in three years. Well, apart from once when I got them to come to a restaurant on false pretences because I wanted them to hear about my engagement, but other than that never. They cut me out of their lives when I got together with Brad. There, that’s my secret out of the way.’
As Lydia stared at me in shock, I mentally kicked myself. I hadn’t meant to tell her so soon about how they disapproved of Brad, and of course how right they had been. Still, she had been honest with me, so I took a deep breath and told Lydia everything. I left nothing out, including how Brad was two decades older than me, had been married before, how Brad had bought me a latte when he found me at Phil’s after the lecture he had given. We had got chatting and when he asked me if he could take me out for dinner that night I had instantly said yes. As Lydia nodded her head encouragingly, I told her how I had tried, on more than one occasion, to make things right between me, Brad and my parents.
‘The funny thing is, that’s why Brad said we couldn’t get married yet, because of Mum and Dad’s disapproval,’ I said sadly, once I’d told Lydia the whole sorry story. ‘He said that it wouldn’t be fair to get married without them there. Now of course, I know he was just using that as an excuse because he was sleeping with my best friend.’
I made a face and Lydia reached over and clasped my hand. The gesture took me by surprise. I hadn’t realised just how much I needed to feel some affection. Silently, I looked up at her and felt a warm glow as she gave me a lopsided grin that reached her sparkling blue eyes.
‘Don’t you think you might like to try and reconcile with your parents now?’ she suggested gently. ‘I’m sure they would be devastated to know what’s happened. As a parent I know only too well how frustrating children can be, but we love them so much, all we want is for them to be happy.’
I sighed. ‘I’ve thought about it. But at the moment I can’t face it. I just want to adjust to my new life and settle down for a bit. I don’t think I could take it if they rejected me all over again.’
At the thought of my parents turning their back on me once more, my eyes brimmed with tears. Before I could stop myself I found them streaming down my cheeks. Quick as a flash, Lydia was on her feet and had pulled me up into her arms for a hug. Resting my head on her shoulder, I allowed myself to give into tears, feeling the release of all the stress the last few days had brought.
When I was finished, I pulled away, wiped my eyes and gave Lydia a watery smile. ‘Sorry.’
‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ she said kindly. ‘You’ve had what can only be described as a right bugger of a time.’
I laughed at her unexpected turn of phrase. Usually she sounded so posh. She smiled at me again as she returned to her own seat and topped up our wine.
‘It’s hard in life when you don’t have your mum and dad to turn to,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘As children we take them for granted, and as parents we know that we will love our children far more than they will love us, that’s the way it is. My own mother died just after my sister was born, leaving our father to raise us’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ I gasped as Lydia waved my sympathy away.
‘It was a long time ago now, but I used to dream about what it would be like if my mother hadn’t died and just run off somewhere. Even though I knew it was pure fantasy I never gave up dreaming about her coming back for me. I think I wanted that happy ending, I wanted to be like all the other children.’
‘What does your sister say?’ I asked.
Lydia smiled sadly. ‘Stella died two years ago. Cancer, it was so cruel.’
‘Lydia, how awful,’ I said softly.
‘It was for the best. She had suffered a long time and when she went she wasn’t in pain any more. But I think she reached a place of acceptance over our mother. She always said we had a perfect dad who was worth two parents – that was good enough for Stella.’
I nodded. ‘Sounds like she was very sensible, your sister.’
‘She was. But Stella taught me that you have to make the most of what you have, even if you don’t think it’s enough.’
Wise advice, I thought as Lydia got to her feet and smiled at me.
‘Which is why you’ve got to make the most of the relationships you do have, and you still have your parents in your life so it might be worth trying to contact them again,’ she suggested. ‘Now, can I show you the sofa that may or may not have graced Simon or Garfunkel’s bottom?’
I laughed at the skilful way she changed conversation and realised that in that moment there was nothing I wanted more.