‘To the week I ruined my life!’ I hold my glass of red wine by the stem out towards Corina and we toast with a clink.
‘Oh, don’t say that, it will be OK, things happen for a reason and all that.’ She looks less than convinced.
The small tea light candles in the silver, heated serving dish flicker at us. The restaurant is warm and actually I am a bit hungry. The truth really does set you free. I miss the kids like crazy but I will be home Monday. My new chapter waits to be written. I have no idea what will happen or what it will bring. I haven’t had an appetite since those hot dogs on Friday. It seems like a lifetime ago.
‘What do you fancy?’ Corina’s freckles catch my eye as she holds the large, soft-backed, silver-embossed Wott’s menu out to me. Her red hair is tied back as always with the front bits tumbling down around her, eyes heavy with mascara.
‘Something simple, I might try a sweet-and-sour chicken and fried rice.’ I open it and read down my options.
‘Mmmm.’ She studies the menu carefully as gratefully I sip my wine.
‘I’m having starter, main course, sides and a dessert – the whole shebang,’ she tells me, then she laughs and pours more wine into our glasses as she goes back to her menu. ‘This is the first time we have been out that you don’t have a curfew. Every cloud and all that.’ She winks at me now.
I look around at the Christmas decorations and I wonder what the kids are doing. If Mark got to play for the Ranelagh Rovers Under 6s today. I wonder about the state of the kitchen. I wonder whether Colin read Roddy Doyle’s book to Mark. If the uniforms are washed. If the lunches are made.
Colin tends to give Mark his iPhone to play games on till he falls asleep when I’m not there. It hits me. I should try now. With a shaking hand I put my glass of wine down beside the flickering flame. I grab my bag from the back of my chair and I pull my phone out and dial.
It answers on the first ring.
‘Mummy?’ My son’s little voice whispers down the line. My picture comes up when I call Colin. It’s a picture of me with my face full of spots when I got adult chicken pox. Colin thinks it’s hilarious. It kinda is, I suppose.
‘Baby boy!’ I literally crush the phone to my ear. ‘Hello, baby, how are you?’
‘Where are you, Mummy? You said be home sooner.’ He sounds so baby-like. His squeaky voice comes clearer over the line now.
I pant in relief because I can tell by his voice that he doesn’t know what’s been going on.
‘I had to work a few days longer, I’m sorry, baby. I will be back to cuddle you after school, how are you? How was football? Did you get to play? I can’t wait to see you, sweetheart.’
‘Mummy, I’m in the middle of a ’portant game here …’ He’s distracted.
‘OK, well, is Jade in her room, sweetie, just for a second?’ I shut my eyes tight.
‘Uh-huh – I’m on level fours of surfer and Daniel is still on levels 3 … and—’
I interrupt.
‘Baby, could you pop into Jade’s room and let me talk to her for just one tiny minute?’
‘Uh-huh, but I can’t find my slippies, Mummy, so I have to go in my toes feet,’ he says.
‘That’s OK, sweetie, toes feet are OK on the carpet, remember?’ I urge him on.
I look up and Corina is staring at me. I give her the thumbs-up with my free hand. Heart bumping out of my body.
I hear Jade’s muffled voice. Then I wait. Then I hear, ‘Hello … Mom?’ She drawls her American all over me.
‘Hi, love.’ I breathe out a huge sigh of relief as I hear her voice. Her beautiful voice. I don’t care if she barks like an Alsatian or uh-uh-uhs like a monkey to communicate. Why was I letting her accent bother me so much? Who cares?
‘Where are you, Mom, like … aren’t you totally supposed to be home this evening and stuff? Like, er, Dad told us your show got cancelled and stuff, right, but I thought that you’d be here tonight?’
I close my eyes and I can see her. Soft pink headphones down around her neck now. Blonde hair piled on top in a messy bun. Probably in her cream love-heart pyjamas, as I washed and ironed them before I left.
They don’t know. They don’t know. They don’t know.
‘You heard that Dad bust his nose, though, right?’ she tells me all very conversationally.
‘I-I-I did,’ I stutter.
‘I mean, what kinda idiot falls off a treadmill at the gym, right? Like, Mom, he’s sooo embarrassing looking…’
‘I know, love.’ My eyes are watering again. Corina passes me a linen napkin.
‘Mom … why was Dad so mean to Corina at my gymnastics?’
‘It’s a grown-up problem, love, but it’s all sorted now, nothing for you to worry about, OK?’
‘I kinda felt sorry for her. She is a nice lady, she bought me a big bag of peanut M&Ms.’
‘I told you she was a nice lady and she thinks the world of you … Daddy and her have made up now so it’s all fine,’ I try to convince her.
‘I remembered what you said, Mom, about taking people as you find them and I’m going to do that from now on. If you were, like, trying to call Dad, will I call down to him?’ I notice the more she talks, the less American she keeps up.
‘No, that’s fine, love, I spoke to him earlier,’ I say as I dab the corner of my eyes with the napkin.
‘I want my subway surfers game back, I nearly had a mystery box.’ I can hear Mark.
‘The annoying ant is pulling the phone out of my hand. See you tomorrow, Mom … Mom … ?’
‘I’m still here, Jade,’ I say.
‘I miss you and … I love you, Mummy,’ she tells me.
I’m taken aback that she’s told me she loves me and called me mummy.
‘I-I-I love you too, darling, so much …’
‘So, so, so, so, so much … Remember when I used to always say that when I was a kid?’ she asks quietly.
‘I sure do,’ I say. ‘Maybe now that you are older and I definitely don’t call you boo boo any more, maybe we could make up a new saying?’
‘Yeah, maybe, Mom. That maybe sounds kinda cool, or maybe a quirky handshake? Gotta go.’
They hang up. I let out a long, ‘Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.’
It comes from deep within my very core. A yogic breath. That conversation was medicinal. Healing.
‘You talked to them? How?’ Corina is clutching the soft black menu to her chest.
‘Mark had Colin’s phone in bed.’ I smile brightly and put the napkin down on my lap.
‘They’re OK?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, seem perfectly fine.’ I light up with a beaming smile.
‘I mean, things are going to change for them obviously. They will ask why Dad is in the box room, but I’m going to be honest with them, insofar as I will tell them we are working through a few issues. Do you think Colin would ever tell them what happened in Amsterdam?’ I ask her.
She is quick to shake her head. ‘No. Never. He’d never hurt them like that. He loves those kids too much … Oh, would you ever look who it is?’ Corina’s eyes dart to the door.
‘Who?’ I dare not look around. My nerves are hanging by a thread.
‘It’s Trevor. Responsible for my Trevorweight, Trevor.’ She sits up straight and licks her lips.
‘He’s coming this way.’ She stares at me as a couple walk by.
‘Hey, Trevor!’ Corina pushes back her chair and stands up; she is only up to his neck. He looks quizzically down at her. The tall woman with him stands, with her festive, glittery silver bag clutched between her two hands in front of her. Her long pink polished thumbnails scraping at the glitter. They make a handsome couple. He’s attractive, tall and dark with a goatee beard; she’s sexy, voluptuous, blonde with a swinging high, sleeked-back, salon-prepared ponytail.
‘Oh, ’ow ya doin’?’ His Mancunian accent rings out around us.
‘Couldn’t be better, and how are you, pet?’ Corina is bright and breezy as she pokes him hard in the chest. He is unbalanced slightly.
‘Not bad, ya know … Keepin’ busy, hun,’ he adds. ‘You know my girlfriend, Amanda, right?’ For all his easy manner, I can see he still hasn’t placed Corina. In fact I’d go as far as to say he hasn’t a clue who Corina is.
‘No, don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.’
Amanda grimaces as she slowly looks Corina up and down and limply holds out her henna-tattooed hand.
‘How was the wedding? It was last week, wasn’t it?’ Corina keeps eye contact, straining her neck in the process.
‘Hmmm?’ He looks uncomfortable.
‘Your brother’s wedding, the Pimple, wasn’t it last week? You get through that heartfelt speech you were telling me all about, Trev?’ Tilting her head to the side now, sporting a pretty convincing sympathetic face.
‘Your brother didn’t get married?’ The sexy blonde girlfriend says running one hand down her sleek ponytail. ‘Who is yer one?’ Her head does a dart in the direction of Corina.
‘Did you call me a one?’ Corina looks up at her.
‘Listen, I don’t know you nor do I want to. Me and Trev, we have only just got back together, it’s a fresh start so whatever he did or didn’t do to you is in the past, sweetheart, OK?’
‘Of course, delighted for you both,’ Corina says, nodding at the blonde before pressing Trevor some more. ‘But I’m speechless the Pimple isn’t married? And after all the effort you put into that speech, Trevor? You spent an entire evening telling me about how you guys swung on that same old battered tyre-tree as kids in Salford; latch-key kids, I think you called yourselves? About how your abusive dad drank himself to death and was found face down in Salford precinct in a pool of his own vomit by your schoolmates? About how you and the Pimple worked paper rounds at three in the morning to buy tins of tuna to live on?’
‘Why did you tell her your dad was dead? Billy’s not dead,’ the girlfriend says now, frowning through a suspiciously line-free forehead.
‘And how you lads saved up and sent your mum to Lourdes to try and cure her unidentified disease of the legs.’ Corina turns to Amanda, all sympathy. ‘She can’t walk, as I suppose you know … tragic …’
The girlfriend looks around and I know it’s for a hidden camera.
‘But we just dropped your mum to Zumba class? What kinds of shit are you spilling to birds out there?’ Her voice is hushed now. ‘What the hell is going on, Trevor?’
‘No, no, no, you have me mixed up with some other guy, love.’ Trevor laughs unconvincingly and shakes his head, his feet shuffling. Desperately trying to think on his feet.
‘But she knows the Pimple?’ The girlfriend makes a good point.
All three of us stare at Trevor.
‘Babe, there’s a lot I don’t want you to know about the Pimple, and trust me it’s for your own good. I’m protecting you. You know he has a major problem with the booze. I don’t know this chick … Ahhh, ya know what, our table is ready … Have a lovely evening … er … eh … um …’ He puts his hand on the small of the other woman’s back and they walk on, her ponytail swinging left to right.
‘Corina!’ she calls after him. ‘C.O.R.I.N.A. Remember? It’s your favourite name in the whole world. It’s what you always wanted to call your firstborn if it’s a girl, isn’t it?’
The girlfriend does a double take.
Corina sits.
‘Knob end!’
‘Jesus, is this what you meant by “among other things”? I ask. ‘You all right?’
‘Just don’t get it, Ali, I just don’t. He’s a mean liar. What sort of bullshit was he feeding me? Like, what the heck? Is he clinically insane? He’s a mean liar. Why would someone make up such elaborate bullshit? And I feel bad for her, witch though she seems to be!’
‘Some people are very odd, Corina. He’s not worth it and she will find out what he’s like soon enough … seems like they deserve each other, to be honest.’
‘Are you ready to place your order?’ We are interrupted by a very pretty Chinese waitress, in a tight red-and-black cheongsam. We tell her we are and I order my sweet-and-sour chicken Hong Kong-style with egg-fried rice. Corina has chicken satay skewers for starters, sizzling beef in black bean sauce, noodles and an extra portion of boiled rice, and we order another bottle of red, a rich Merlot.
‘How could I have liked him? I think that’s the most frustrating thing. I must be a very bad judge of character.’
‘He told you what you wanted to hear. He wanted you to trust him,’ I say.
‘Just to get me into bed?’
‘Well, it appears that way, doesn’t it?’
‘Do you think he actually didn’t recognise me, because if that’s the case I am literally going to go over there and dump my black bean sauce over his head!’
‘He didn’t seem to remember you, Corina, no.’ No point in lying. ‘However, I think that says a lot more about him than you.’
‘I’m giving up the dating game. I can’t be arsed any more, truthfully. I hate it.’ She fixes her cutlery. ‘Hurry up! I need food! Food is the one thing that never lets me down. Food is my Eros.’ She sighs, twisting her head around to see if she can spot our waitress returning.
‘I’ve never been in the dating game … but hey, who knows where my life is headed, maybe we can go at it together!’ I try to cheer her up.
I hate seeing her so down on herself. That prick Trevor.
‘Fun though that sounds, things will work out with Colin. You guys just need to have some serious counselling and time apart to see what you are missing and then get your little family back on track. Give it time. Regardless of all he’s done, I know he isn’t a bad man deep down.’ She reaches in for the plate of prawn crackers our waitress has just delivered and folds one into her mouth.
‘I hope so.’
‘Really?’ I decipher the word through her full mouth.
‘Well, not like it is now, but I would like it if we could fall in love all over again, find a new respect for each other. Mind you, that would be little short of magic.’
‘Wouldn’t be a miracle though, I’ve seen it happen before. Liz and Richard?’ she says distractedly, looking over at the blonde who is now sashaying into the ladies’ room.
‘What’s wrong, apart from that absolute plonker back there?’
‘I don’t want this to sound all poor me, ’cause you know I’m not like that – I am the glass-is-half-full lady – but seriously, I think the way I look, guys just don’t like it for the long term. I’m not arm candy, that’s for sure. They just use me. I mean, come on … Look at the girlfriend compared to me!’
‘Oh, come on, that’s ridiculous, and you are gorgeous!’
‘I’m not gorgeous, Ali, I know that and you know that …’ Her face is serious.
‘I think you are!’ I hold my hand over my heart.
‘Well, thank you.’ She winks at me.
‘And you go on loads of dates, Corina, loads,’ I point out.
‘Yeah, dates. Except that’s usually in the singular: I go on loads of date. This date is never normally repeated. There is no omnibus. It’s killing my self-esteem. I’m serious: I’m out of the game as far as I’m concerned. This race is over.’ She raises her glass to her lips and takes a long drink before reaching in for the prawn crackers. Holding the savoury, white, puffy crisp aloft, she says, ‘I’m just gonna get really, really, really fat and then at least I have a reason why … Sure, look, I’m halfway there already!’ She pats her tummy. ‘In fact, I should go for one of those feeder guys, what d’you say? Perfect! Ha! Why didn’t I think of that before? I’m gonna get myself a feeder. Now I want him to be a good match. I don’t want a feeder who wants me to eat tripe or rare lamb chops, I’d prefer a banoffee pie, Rice-Krispies-bar kinda feeder ya know?’ She laughs again now.
‘Do you want children?’ I say in a low voice as I lean across the table. I have never asked her this before.
‘Desperately,’ Corina says without missing a beat, wiping the grease from the prawn crackers from her hand with her white linen napkin. I wait. She looks down and then she looks up.
‘Ever since I was a little girl, all I’ve ever wanted was a big family. Kids running around everywhere. My clock is ticking, I’m thirty-nine next year, Ali, and single as a lone sniper. Without wanting to sound like a whining wagon, I am starting to panic about my fertility.’
I’m not having this.
‘So what are you waiting for?’ I say.
‘What do ya mean?’ She looks questioningly at me as she reaches in for another prawn cracker.
‘You want a baby, there are plenty of ways of falling pregnant, you know. You don’t physically need a boyfriend or a husband any more, Corina, this is the twenty-first century.’
‘But I’d have to do it all on my own; that’s not the way I saw it, Ali.’ She shrugs her shoulders.
‘Eh? Hello? What am I, Scotch mist? You wouldn’t be on your own.’
‘Wouldn’t be easy.’ She nibbles around the edge of the prawn cracker but I can see she’s thinking. Deliberating, if you will.
‘Nothing about having children is easy, Corina, but to be honest, given my experience of late, sometimes it is less stressful coping on your own with them. Look, it’s your life, but if you’re relying on a Mr Right that doesn’t come along, you’ll be cutting off the thing you say you are most desperate for.’
‘But isn’t it all about having someone to share the joys with?’ Nibble. Nibble. Nibble.
‘No, not always, it’s very conventional to think like that. It’s romantic but it’s not realistic, marriages fail every second of every day … look at me …’ I remember something. I snap my fingers at her.
‘A-ha, I never told you this! So I know this girl, she’s an actress, that one with the pierced downstairs area I was telling you about?’
Corina remembers and crosses her legs. I go on.
‘Well, she did a play in the City Arts last year. She was forty, had been engaged for ten years, ten, imagine! She wanted to wait until they were married to have a baby – it was really important to her for her parents’ sake – so of course they broke up. She told me she looked into all her options to get pregnant. She found a website that offered to match women with potential sperm donors. Put up her profile and photo, found a matching donor that offered AI – that’s artificial insemination – he came to her flat and did his business in her bathroom and handed her the jar of sperm, he left and she did her thing with her AI kit. Long story short, she got pregnant and he wanted to be involved, now they raise their little boy, Luke, together as friends. Isn’t that mad?’
‘Sounds like a film with Sandra Bullock and some relatively unknown up-and-coming hot young actor.’ Her eyes open wide and she snorts. ‘Up-and-coming … ha ha ha, get it?’
‘I am serious here.’
Her laugh fades and she surveys my expression.
Corina would be a fantastic mother, I think.
‘You really think these are realistic options for me?’ Hope literally floods across her face. Like Charlie Bucket, when he peels back that silver foil to reveal just the tiniest peek of that wondrous Golden Ticket.
‘One hundred per cent I do!’ I feel all emotional.
‘Holy crap,’ is all she says as our food arrives, all loudly sizzling and smelling divine. After speaking to my babies I am now ravenous. When our waitress has placed all our dishes down I spoon some sweet-and-sour chicken pieces onto my warm plate and add some egg-fried rice.
‘I tell you what … if we are still sitting here this time next year and you are still in the same position, let’s seriously consider getting you pregnant. See how Trevor’s fixed for a deposit? He owes you one.’ I wave my knife behind me.
We howl with laughter.
‘God, I wouldn’t want to inflict a poor baby with his pathologically lying genes!’ She pours her sizzling beef all over her thick noodles and twists her fork to gather. My chicken is sweet and tender and the flavours erupt in my mouth.
‘I don’t need a man, do I?’ she says laying her fork to rest on the side of her plate.
‘You don’t.’ I pierce a piece of pineapple with my fork.
‘You’re so right, why do I care if that idiot wants me or not? I deserve so much better.’
The penny has dropped.
‘That’s the Corina I know and love.’ I smile.
‘I deserve so much better.’ She repeats the mantra under her breath and it seems to resonate and she smiles brightly. Raising her wine glass to me, she says, her eyes slightly damp, ‘I’ll always have you, right?’
‘Damn right.’ I look her in the eye and it’s my turn to wink at her.