‘I’m really sorry, dear,’ Sylvia whispered conspiratorially at me from her vantage point over the bannister as she made her way up to the spare bedroom. ‘I don’t think having Anna at Nick’s fortieth birthday party is overly appropriate, but there was nothing I could do to stop her coming.’
The moment I’d seen Anna Fitzgerald appear at the doorway like a stand-in for The Woman in Black I’d made my way directly over to her, but by the time I’d crossed the lawn she had disappeared again and I was beginning to wonder if the sun had got to me and I was seeing things. Since the wedding in October, I’d fantasised about our meeting again ‒ had had little conversations in my head about what I would say to her and how I would be looking slim, gorgeous and without the added accessories of owl shit and baby sick. No one else seemed to have seen her. Mind you, the vodka lot weren’t interested in seeing anything but the next shot coming their way, and I suppose no one else really knew her.
‘This is why we’re so late, dear,’ Sylvia went on. ‘We were going to drive up last night, as you know, but then Anna suddenly turns up a couple of days ago out of the blue and announces she’s coming to stay. Well, of course Colin is absolutely delighted…’ Sylvia lowered her voice ‘and makes a huge fuss of her.’ She tutted. ‘So we tell her we are coming up to Yorkshire. That it’s Nick’s birthday party. And she wonders if she could possibly join us.’ Sylvia frowned. ‘You don’t think she knew it was Nick’s fortieth, do you?’
I did.
‘I mean, would she have remembered the date after all these years?’
She would.
‘Anyway, Colin was obviously ecstatic and said of course it would be all right for her to come with us. That Nick ‒ and you, of course, dear ‒ would be delighted to have her here. I did say that you’d have enough on your plate, that there wasn’t another spare room, but she said she’d book into some hotel in Midhope. She seemed to have it all worked out.’
I bet she did.
‘But why didn’t you let us know, Sylvia, let us know she was coming? We could have put India in with Liberty and she could have stayed.’
‘She said she didn’t want any fuss. Wanted to surprise you both. Said she’d just come up with us, wish Nick “Happy Birthday” and go and stay in her hotel. That’s why we decided not to come up until today.’ Sylvia looked exasperated. ‘Didn’t want any fuss? Ha! We should have been here hours earlier, but she insisted on going off to have her hair done, and her nails done… where she found somewhere on a Sunday morning is absolutely beyond me… and then went back into Epsom to that horribly expensive little shop where you have to make an appointment just to go in there…’ Sylvia paused for breath. ‘Said she needed a new dress. New dress? Ha! You should see the luggage she’d brought with her from Italy. Full of new dresses.’
The prodigal daughter was obviously sinking further down in Sylvia’s estimation by the minute.
‘And,’ Sylvia lowered her voice even further, ‘she’s hardly said a word to me. Almost ignored me. She needs to remember it’s my home now, not hers. Right, dear, I’m just going to spend a penny, get out of these slacks, put on my party frock and then find Nick. That’s why we’re here, after all.’
I left her to it and set off to find Anna. I wanted to have the upper hand, wanted to welcome her on my terms, on my territory, with my husband. I went back out into the garden, which was now full of women in a kaleidoscope of summer dresses ‒ a flock of exotic birds laughing, drinking and air kissing people with whom they were only ever reacquainted at dos such as this. Air kissing a few of my own, I made my excuses and continued my search. She wasn’t anywhere near Nick, who was still at the centre of an ever increasing crowd of vodka imbibing men. Making a mental note to add a load more lemonade to the Pimm’s and offer that in its stead, I scanned the garden and saw Anna sitting under the huge, ancient apple tree.
With Amanda. And India. And with my two babies on her lap. I’d left Fin asleep in his pram and Thea with Grace, so how she’d ended up with both of them God only knows. She was tickling them, making them giggle, while India greedily divested the wrapping paper from a box that looked suspiciously like Pandora.
‘Mummy, look. Look what Auntie Anna has bought me. She said her mummy always bought her a present, too, when it was her daddy’s birthday.’ Did I hear a slightly accusatory tone in India’s voice as she held up the beautiful Pandora bracelet that already sported a teddy, a strawberry and a turtle charm? ‘I’m going to show Megan.’
Anna said something to Amanda. In Italian. They both laughed and looked my way.
‘Buon pomeriggio, Harriet,’ Amanda trilled. ‘Come stai?’
Jesus, it was like the bloody United Nations here, what with the Russian, French and now the Italian. When I didn’t say anything, but looked pointedly at Anna and then the twins, Amanda said, ‘Sorry, Harriet, that was rather rude of us. I just love practising my Italian with a native speaker, and Anna here is as good as one.’
‘Hi, Amanda.’ I bent to pick up Fin, who struggled to be put back down with Anna. Little traitor. ‘Hello, Anna,’ I smiled through my teeth. ‘Sylvia said you were here. We’re delighted that you’ve been able to join us. Do be careful that Fin doesn’t spoil your dress.’
‘Oh, fiddle the dress,’ Anna said staring back at me just as pointedly. ‘I adore babies, and any babies of Nick’s must be especially delicious.’ She nuzzled into Fin’s neck as if he were a particularly dainty morsel and, while he giggled uncontrollably, Anna’s eyes never left mine. Wasn’t this the woman who, at Sylvia’s wedding reception, had called my children brats?
‘Oh, you must meet my darling grandson, Jonty, if you like babies so much, Anna. Come on, let’s get a drink and find him. I’ve not had any time with him this afternoon yet and I’m having terrible withdrawal symptoms.’ And with that she jumped up, dusted herself down and set off towards the Pimm’s station at the other end of the garden. Anna gave me a triumphant little smile and followed in Amanda’s footsteps ‒ taking my son with her.
‘Well, my gorgeous girl,’ I said, picking up Thea, who put her little arms around my neck, ‘that’s the woman your father nearly married.’ I didn’t really know what else to say.
‘Bloody hell, Hat. I’m assuming that’s the infamous Anna Fitzgerald.’ Grace caught up with me as I walked back towards Nick, and gave me one of the two glasses of Pimm’s she had in her hands. ‘She just sort of turned up with Fin, introduced herself, and then legged it with Thea as well. I mean, she had Amanda in tow or else I would have thought she was a kidnapper. She doesn’t know Amanda, does she?’
‘No, not at all. They’ve just met today. Made for each other, I reckon.’
‘She’s not at all like I imagined,’ Grace said. ‘She’s tiny, isn’t she?’
We turned to where Anna and Amanda were now chatting to Liberty. Anna had just handed her a similar looking box to the one she’d given India, and Libby was exclaiming in delight. She’d always wanted a Pandora bracelet, and Nick and I had intended giving her one for her eighteenth birthday in a few months’ time. Obviously no need, now.
Judge Colin had joined Nick and the vodka set and was quickly making up for lost time with the other men. Grace and I watched as he downed a couple of shots before moving in on Olga.
‘Oh, my God,’ Grace laughed in delight, ‘Colin thinks it’s a woman. She is a man, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, I’m sure she is. I don’t understand how it works. I mean, Anasim really appears to like women ‒ he’s always hugging and kissing them ‒ and yet he loves cruising Canal Street in Manchester, and now turns up with a trannie. Does that mean he’s gay? Does he fancy the man that Olga is or the woman he’s pretending to be?’
‘You certainly don’t have to be gay to like dressing up in women’s clothes,’ Grace said. ‘You just have to like dressing up in women’s clothes. Period.’
‘Right. OK. But if Olga the man isn’t gay why is he enjoying having first Philip Kerr and now Judge Colin’s hands on his backside?’
‘Beyond me,’ Grace said. ‘Hang on. Look, Hat, Anna’s making her move.’
We watched as Anna, still holding Fin, elbowed her way through the group to Nick. She tapped him on the shoulder and he turned, still talking to Megan’s father.
For a split second Nick appeared thoroughly confused. There was his younger son, but in the arms not of his wife but of his ex-girlfriend. In his vodka induced state he must have thought he was hallucinating. Then he seemed to recover himself, took Fin from her arms and kissed her on both cheeks before introducing her to the group. All very polite, as if she were just another unexpected guest ‒ like Philip Kerr ‒ who had turned up uninvited. Good.
‘Well, you don’t need to have any worries about that one.’ Grace said, sniffing. ‘She’d planned that entrance, the little hussy. Especially with Fin in her arms. I bet she was hoping Nick would finally see her as the woman she would have been, had he married her. The mother she would have become.’
‘Do you reckon?’
‘Absolutely. There’s no spark there though, Harriet. On Nick’s part, anyway. I should watch her, though. Just look at the way she’s looking at Nick. She really has never got over him, has she?’
Anna was knocking back what was hopefully the last of Anasim’s vodka and holding on to Nick’s arm while the men around shouted, ‘Za vas.’
‘She’s one of the boys now,’ I said. ‘I get the impression she doesn’t really like other women all that much. I know she hooked up with Amanda for ten minutes, but I bet she didn’t stay and talk to you when she nabbed Thea, did she?’
‘Well, no, but we hadn’t been introduced. She was intent on grabbing the twins and showing herself in a good light.’
‘She’s been giving poor old Sylvia a hard time. Amazing, isn’t it, that Sylvia desperately wanted her for a daughter-in-law, and now she’s got her as a stepdaughter doesn’t quite know what to do with her? I bet she was all over Sylvia when Nick was going out with her, wheedling her way into her affections. But, you know, there’s no way she would have had Sylvia to live with her like Sylvia lived with us for those two years.’
‘Well, you took some persuading, Hat,’ Grace laughed. ‘But I know what you mean. I can’t imagine she’s the sort of woman who would share anything, especially the man she adores. And she does, you know, Harriet. That poor girl still loves Nick. Look.’
Anna was laughing at something Nick was saying, hanging on to his every word, gazing up at him, her eyes never once leaving his face. Now she was touching his arm again, whispering something in his ear. Lilian, obviously thinking Fin was far too young to be a part of the vodka set, had rescued him from the group and was now heading our way.
‘Harriet,’ she said quietly in her lovely Irish lilt. ‘You need to watch that one.’
*
‘Who is that lady that Colin seems very taken with?’ Sylvia had joined Grace, Di, Lilian and me as we finally sat down to eat. Our profusely sweating Big Fat Porker man hadn’t been quite as prompt as promised with his poor old pig, and the guests, full of Pimm’s and vodka, had fallen ravenously on to the barbecue and salads the minute Kit had hollered ‘Grub’s up.’ Once I’d made sure everyone had food, and glasses had been replenished, I felt it was OK to sit with my first glass of SB and get into party mode.
‘Which woman?’ I asked.
Sylvia pointed her fork at Olga.
‘That’s no lady, Sylvia,’ Di laughed.
‘No, dear, I didn’t mean lady as in Lady. You know, as I am a Lady.’ Di, Grace and I rolled our eyes skywards beneath our sunglasses. She sounded like something off Little Britain. ‘I meant woman. Who is the woman, the very tall woman Colin is talking to?’
I laughed. ‘I don’t think much talking is going on, Sylvia. Olga can’t speak a word of English.’
‘Ah, Russian, is she?’ Sylvia said comfortably. ‘That explains her size and figure. Perhaps an athlete in a former life? You know how the Russians fill their sportspeople with drugs and steroids. Rather an unfair advantage, I always think. But then, look at Stalin.’
Stalin? I really must wean my mother-in-law off the Daily Express.
‘I don’t think she was an athlete in a former life,’ Di laughed.
Sylvia took a delicate bite from her Big Fat Porker sandwich and swallowed before wiping her mouth on her napkin. ‘Oh?’
‘Sylvia, they’re teasing you,’ Lilian smiled. ‘Olga’s a man.’
Sylvia looked horrified. ‘A man? Dressed like that? Like one of those, those… ladyboys we saw in Thailand? And chatting to Colin? Does he know?’
We all turned to the food table, where the good judge was helping Olga to a plate of food. Next to him, Philip Kerr was hopping up and down, rather like a demented squirrel, trying to get Colin’s attention by repeatedly indicating his own nether regions before pointing at Olga’s.
‘I rather think he’s about to find out,’ I giggled.
*
Liberty was standing on a table, clapping her hands for attention. When no one seemed to be taking much notice of her Seb hurried over to the saxophonists, who were lying on the grass in the shade. Nick’s running mate jumped up, grabbed his instrument and immediately began a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’, repeatedly belting it out as he walked towards Libby until all of the guests joined in with singing. Then he smoothly segued into a chorus of ‘The Lady in Red’ and Liberty, in her little scarlet bodycon dress, waved her arms again for attention. I glanced over at Seb, who was gazing at my eldest daughter with such rapt adoration I felt quite winded. I looked across at Grace who smiled. ‘It’s OK, Hat,’ she whispered. ‘It really, really is. I only borrowed Seb. I’ve given back what really didn’t belong to me in the first place.’
Well, that was one way of looking at it.
‘Ladies, and gentleman, family and friends,’ Libby was saying. I could tell from the way her voice wavered that she was horribly nervous. There was no way on this planet that I could have stood up and made a speech in front of sixty people when I was her age. I wasn’t sure I could do it even now. Libby hesitated and glanced over at Seb, who smiled encouragingly. ‘I’d like you all to raise a toast to the truly most wonderful father in the world on this, his fortieth birthday. Dad has worked his socks off, particularly over the last couple of years, to give us all this.’ Libby indicated, with a wave of her hand, the house and garden. ‘When Dad’s company went belly up in the recession he still managed to keep us all in school and, while we may not have been able to have all the designer stuff, the iPads and the holidays, he more than made up for it in the love he showered upon us. Even when he realised he was going to be a father again for not only the fourth, but fifth time…’ she looked up from her notes and everyone laughed ‘he didn’t do a runner, but took it all in his stride. He’s been particularly on my side these last few months…’ Libby smiled shyly across at Seb, ‘and for that, I am really grateful. Dad is the most loyal, funny, wonderful man and I’d like you all to help Mum, Kit, India, Fin, Thea and me to raise a glass and thank him for being… Dad.’
Much cheering, clapping and toasts to ‘Dad’ and ‘Nick’ followed by: ‘Speech, Nick. Speech.’
Grinning, Nick made his way to the table and jumped up beside Liberty. He hugged her and I wanted to cry. I was so proud of her. So proud of the gorgeous, confident girl she’d become. It would all be all right with Sebastian. And if it wasn’t, I’d chop him up and feed him to Bones.
‘Gosh, after all that vodka I’m amazed I’m still standing, never mind up on this table,’ Nick laughed. He did sound amazingly sober, and I realised he’d probably been doling it out to others rather than knocking it back himself. ‘Thank you, Libby, my darling, for that. It’s been worth reaching the ancient age of forty just to see my eldest daughter grow up into the gorgeous creature she is today.’ He paused and everyone clapped and shouted, ‘Libby’ and ‘Toast to Libby.’
Nick went on to thank everyone for coming, for their presents and good wishes, and then cleared his throat before saying, ‘I couldn’t have done any of this without one special person. From the minute I saw her in the university bar that Saturday night, I knew she was the one for me. I fell in love with her, with her dippiness, with her sense of humour and, of course, with how gorgeous she looked. She has given me…’ here Nick pretended to count on his fingers, ‘four, five… blimey, five children, and still looks as luscious as she did almost twenty years ago. Seriously, she has been my rock. She stood by me and went back to work when my business decided to up and die on us: she’s been here, keeping the home fires burning and looking after the kids while I’ve constantly been off in Russia and China. She is loyal, funny and, and… well, she’s Hat…’ Nick paused, ‘or, as Anisim has now christened her, Cap. Please raise your glass, once more, to the loyal, gorgeous, funny, lovely Cap.’ Nick grinned across at me, raising his glass, as all our guests yelled, ‘The lovely Cap.’
A whole gamut of emotions was churning in my brain. Love for Nick, pride at Liberty and also a feeling of foolishness at being rechristened with the same name as a contraceptive. But the one overwhelming feeling was shame: shame at what I’d done to my lovely Nick when he continued to love and cherish me so. Thank God Alex had done the sensible thing and kept away.
I’d hung my head in embarrassment while our guests had toasted me, and Grace now leaned over to me and patted my arm. She could read me like a book. I finally looked up, attempting to smile. The smile was soon wiped off my face when I glanced across at Anna. She was standing alone, a tiny figure all by herself, and with such a look of utter despair on her pale face that I wanted to reach out and comfort her. She had loved Nick so much ‒ had held a torch for him all these years in the same way, I supposed, that my brother, John, had for Amanda. No one deserved to be alone if they didn’t want to be. I made a move towards her ‒ I’d decide what I was going to say or do when I got there ‒ but, head down, she moved off across the crowded lawn in the other direction.
*
We’d asked Kit to sort out some music for post picnic dancing and, as the early evening breeze cooled what had been an amazingly warm day, he and Tom set up their iPod and speakers in the sitting room and the music began to blast out from the open window. They’d chosen, with much sneering and sighs of disbelief, some early nineties stuff ‒ music that Nick had grown up with ‒ and a hard core of guests had now kicked off their shoes and were dancing on the lawn.
To the music of Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice Ice Baby’ and Heart’s ‘All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You’, our friends boogied on down and showed no desire to end the party. We sang along to Whitney Houston’s ‘I Will Always Love You’ and The Farm’s ‘All Together Now’, and I was relieved when I saw Ralph-next-door was in the middle of it all. At least I didn’t have to worry about annoying the neighbours. Olga had commandeered my washing line post and, to the accompaniment of whoops and yells of encouragement, was now pole-dancing around it to Right Said Fred’s ‘I’m Too Sexy’. When he saw her, Kit quickly changed the music to the more up-to-date Sarah Brightman track ‘Eden’ and, as the diva sang, in plaintive tones, ‘Did you ever think of me as your best friend?’ Olga shimmied up and down the pole, eyes closed, muscled legs hugging the metal like a vice. It must have been such a relief for her to be able to let it all hang out, as it were, in my back garden, without the fear of recrimination ‒ or arrest, even, that she might risk at home in Vladivostok.
Laughing, I went inside to check on the twins who were sleeping soundly upstairs and, realising I was thirsty after too much wine, did a detour and headed for the kitchen fridge and bottled water.
‘So you couldn’t resist him, then?’ Anna Fitzgerald had followed me in and was now leaning against the kitchen table, eyes glittering in her pale face.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Alex Hamilton? You couldn’t resist those oh-so-blue eyes?’
I felt my heart pounding in my chest, my hands sweaty on the bottle of water. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Anna.’
‘You see, Harriet, I’ve known Alex for well over two years now. When he first came out to Italy, he actively sought out a crowd of people with whom he could carry on the sybaritic lifestyle he felt he deserved.’ When I didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, she smiled her little cat like smile and went on. ‘He’d just been forced to leave the SBS and was working in Milan. He was terribly restless and spent all his winter weekends skiing ‒ that’s where I met him, in St Moritz. He always had to push himself to do more and more dangerous runs ‒ anything to try to relive the danger and excitement of being in the SBS ‒ and I was always up for it…’ she laughed shortly, ‘dangerous skiing, I mean…’
‘Right… fine. I have to see to the twins, if you’ll excuse me.’ I made to leave the kitchen, needed to get out of there.
She ignored me, actually putting out her hand to keep me there. ‘There was a crowd of us. We took it in turns to come up with things to do: black runs, bossaball, skydiving, stock car racing. We even went down to Pamplona in Spain for the bull running…’
‘I’m sure you had a wonderful time…’
‘But the best challenge I kept solely for Alex, Harriet. When he told me he’d been approached by David Henderson, I bet him he couldn’t get into your knickers by Christmas.’
The word knickers seemed to echo loudly round the kitchen and I was terrified someone outside would hear through the open door. I was even more terrified that if I walked back into the garden, this madwoman would follow me out and tell the whole of the dancing crowd what I’d been up to. I needed to shut her up.
‘So you’re telling me,’ I said, trying to speak calmly, ‘that not only did you know, all the way from Italy, that Nick was working with David Henderson, but by an amazing coincidence David just happened to also pick Alex to work with him as well? Bit far fetched, that, isn’t it?’
‘I’ve always known what’s been happening in Nick’s life. He is my life…’
Oh, dear God. Much as I hated that hoary old chestnut, bunny-boiler, it was becoming abundantly clear I’d got one in my kitchen.
‘And when I knew David Henderson and Nick were doing more and more work in Milan, it was very easy, with all my contacts there, to bring Alex to the attention of David. Like Nick, Alex is amazingly good at what he does. But then, I’m sure you’ve found that out, Harriet.’ She gave me that little smile of triumph once more. ‘And the rest, as they say, is history. You lost your knickers and Alex won his prize.’
‘You’re mad,’ I hissed.
‘But not half as mad as Nick will be when he hears how you’ve spent the last six months shagging Alex Hamilton senseless,’ she hissed back in my face.
I sensed, rather than saw, someone behind me, and in panic turned around towards the door. I never again, in the whole of my life, want to see so much shock and pain on the face of someone I love. Nick, all colour drained from his face, stood at the door of the utility room, dustpan and brush in hand.
Just two thoughts skittered through my brain as Nick stared at me, unable to say a word.
That Michael Bolton’s ‘How Am I Supposed to Live Without You’ was belting out across the garden from the open window, and that it was going to take a hell of a lot more than one pan and brush to clean up this particular mess.