Phoebe stood outside the Tate Liverpool, buffeted by strong winds that had picked up speed across the Mersey before slamming into the Albert Dock. Meeting up at the waterfront had been a good idea earlier in the week, but the weather had taken a turn for the worse and winter was making a wet and wild start to the festive season. While Phoebe was relatively snug in the oversized duffle coat she had picked up at a vintage fair, her friend appeared to be faring less well. She watched as Julia trudged towards her with the remnants of an umbrella hanging at her side. Her long auburn tresses had been pulled from a silver clasp and were now plastered across her face.
‘Wet?’
‘Can we get inside?’ Julia replied, her teeth chattering.
The lunch date had been Julia’s idea, although Phoebe had been about to suggest the same thing. They were eager to visit the Andy Warhol exhibition and because they both worked in the city centre, they had opted to combine it with a lunch date. The friends still shared a love of art and one of Phoebe’s fondest memories was sitting at the dining table in Helen’s house while Julia played teacher. She had been as surprised as Julia at her ability to transform blank pieces of paper into vibrant worlds full of colour and excitement with relative ease. It had been Julia’s nurturing that had stimulated a natural flair in that timid little girl which might otherwise have gone unnoticed, even by Phoebe.
In her teens, Phoebe had briefly studied fashion design at a sixth-form college in Manchester but she had abandoned her course to return to Liverpool after her mum died. She could have transferred to a college in Liverpool, and perhaps she might have done if her grandad had still been alive, but her nan had recently been widowed and she wanted Phoebe to start earning a living and learn how to provide for herself rather than waste time on some half-baked idea about being an artist. Phoebe’s argument that she was learning a trade and hoped to be a fashion designer one day had fallen on deaf ears, and her current career path had begun as a cashier in the local supermarket, but she had refused to give up on her dream completely. She had attended art classes at night school for a while until that had also ended abruptly, like so many other things in her life.
Phoebe didn’t have Julia’s drive to take her gift and make a career out of it. The nearest she came to being creative in work was helping out occasionally with the window displays at Debenhams, and even that might be coming to an end soon.
‘So how long have we got?’ Julia asked.
‘I have to be back in an hour,’ Phoebe replied, but then checked her watch. ‘Make that fifty minutes less the ten minutes it’ll take to get back, so …’ She winced. ‘Sorry, did you need longer?’
‘Oh, don’t worry about it. Let’s have a walk around the exhibition first and if there’s time we can grab something to eat. If not, we’ll have to make do with eating a soggy sandwich on the way back, if that’s all right with you?’
‘I really don’t want to rush you, Julia. I could always leave you here so you can have a proper look around,’ Phoebe offered. She didn’t want her friend to curtail her own enjoyment just for her.
Still dripping wet, Julia was too bruised and battered by the wind to hide her frustration. ‘I want you to get the most out of this too. How about we concentrate on what you want to see and then if I’m desperate to hang around afterwards, I will. But let’s make time to sit down and at least have a coffee before fighting gale-force winds again.’
‘This could be our one and only chance to see this exhibition. I’m sorry we couldn’t have arranged it for the weekend, but I’ve been signed up for Saturday shifts from now until Christmas and I have to take Nan to church on Sundays and then there’s the shopping. I wouldn’t have had time to get into town. Sorry,’ she said again.
They had taken the lift to the fourth floor and as soon as they stepped into the gallery, Phoebe came to a stumbling stop, overwhelmed by the sight of works of art she had spent so much of her life admiring. She had often drawn inspiration from the thought-provoking images, and the dramatic colours used by Andy Warhol had become the palette for so many of her own designs. While she stood in awe, Julia wandered off towards another piece of the exhibit and Phoebe hurried to catch her up. They found themselves in a darkened room that pulsated with throbbing music to accompany a disturbing mix of film clips projected onto the walls. Phoebe was mesmerized once again, but after only five minutes, Julia was on the move again.
‘Sorry, I am making you rush, aren’t I?’ Phoebe said.
Julia let out a deep sigh. ‘If you apologize one more time, Phoebe, I swear I’m going to have to take one of these paintings and hit you over the head with it, giving visitors a new display to ponder over.’
‘Who rattled your cage?’
‘Concentrate on the artwork,’ Julia instructed, making a point of peering at the printed description of one of the exhibits.
Phoebe knew better than to argue and leaned in for a closer look. ‘I wish I had the imagination to come up with something like this,’ she said. ‘Something that takes the accepted view of the world and turns it on its head.’
‘Have you done any painting lately?’
‘God, no, I can’t remember the last time I locked myself away in the garage and threw paint at a canvas.’
‘But you are still making clothes?’
Phoebe wanted to say yes, but it would be stretching the truth too far and it had been a long time since she had been able to get away with lying to Julia. ‘I’m still sketching designs now and then and I’ll happily make a start at sewing things up, but I never seem to complete anything. You know what it’s like. Whenever you get the time, you don’t have the inspiration and when inspiration does strike, you’re too busy doing something else,’ Phoebe said and then stopped as she did a reality check. ‘Oh, sorry, that’s just me, isn’t it? So how’s this amazing commission of yours going?’
At first Julia seemed reluctant to show off but in the next moment she was pulling out her phone to show Phoebe photos of the designs she had been working on. ‘I was at Martin Mere last weekend and as inspiration goes, it was perfect. I came up with a few options which I’ve already sent through to the client but this is the one he loved – which is a relief, because it was the one I wanted him to pick.’
At first glance it looked like two interlinked hearts, but the abstract design had been based on a pair of swans, their curved necks and wings creating the heart shapes. The sketch wasn’t as simple as it looked and Julia pointed out the subtle references to the brief she had been given, such as the individual feathers that represented the couple’s family.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’d love to see it when it’s completed.’
‘I’d love you to see it before then. It would be good to have another artist’s perspective while I’m working on it.’
Phoebe sighed. ‘I’d hardly call myself an artist.’
‘It’s going to be a great loss to the art world if you never get to apply your talents, Phoebe. You could be the next Andy Warhol, or Banksy, or maybe even a budding—’
‘Budding? I’m almost thirty, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘And? You talk as though you’re the same age as your nan. Remember that conversation we had the other week? You said your life hadn’t started yet. It’s not too late, Phoebe, and the first step is telling yourself there’s still time. Plenty of it.’
‘But that’s it, I don’t think there is time, or at least not enough to scrap one career and start again,’ Phoebe said. ‘I applied for a promotion the other week.’
‘And you got it?’
Phoebe laughed. ‘This is me you’re talking to, of course I didn’t.’ When Julia looked confused, she added, ‘It was an assistant manager post and while I’ve got the experience, there are plenty of others with more qualifications than I have.’
‘OK,’ Julia said, letting her words stretch to give her some thinking time. ‘When one door closes, another one opens. Use this as the push you need to go back to your studies.’
Julia made it sound so simple but she might think differently if she saw life from Phoebe’s perspective. She didn’t quite appreciate how opportunities in Phoebe’s life only arrived to be snatched away. It wasn’t Julia’s fault; they were best friends but there were some things that Julia was better off not knowing, things that Phoebe would rather forget.
It hadn’t helped that Phoebe’s life had been built on perilously weak foundations. Her mum, Eleanor, had been a rebellious teenager who had fallen pregnant and had little choice but to stay at home with her authoritarian parents who helped bring up their grandchild. It was impossible to say if Eleanor’s decision to run away with Phoebe nine years later had been a desperate attempt to claim her independence or simply to hurt her parents more. It hardly mattered because the end result would have been the same – Eleanor quickly fell in with the wrong crowd and eventually died in desperate circumstances, leaving behind a seventeen-year-old daughter who, rather than learn from her mother’s mistakes, had convinced herself that she was destined to follow the same self-destructive path.
When Phoebe had returned home to Liverpool, her grandmother had had her work cut out taming the girl who had suffered years of neglect, but Phoebe had eventually stopped resisting and allowed someone to control her and, more importantly, take care of her. And she had been relatively content leading a steady and unremarkable life, but things were changing. At home she was now primary carer while at work …
‘My manager has already suggested the same thing,’ she told Julia. ‘They want me to enrol on some management programme starting in April next year.’
‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’ Julia said, more in hope than with any real conviction.
‘I went for the promotion because my nan said I should, not because I wanted it. She’s looking to the future when she’ll go into a care home and we’ll have to sell the house to fund it. There’ll be enough equity left for me to get a small house or an apartment but I will have to support myself, and besides, I’m always helping my manager sort out the rotas and the stock sheets, so I know I could do the job. It’s just …’ She looked around the gallery at the prints and paintings hanging from the walls. The vibrancy of the colours hurt her eyes, making them sting. ‘I know I should be happy about it. It’s a proper job, a proper career.’
‘Just not the career you wanted. You could always—’
‘No, I couldn’t,’ Phoebe said before her friend had the chance to finish. She wasn’t about to be talked into a sudden change in direction, not by someone who might not have everything she wanted in life, but she certainly had more than Phoebe could even dream of.
Realizing it was an argument that she wasn’t going to win, Julia said, ‘Time for that coffee now?’
Checking her watch again, Phoebe said, ‘I suppose I could run back to work. The exercise would do me good.’
After taking a very quick look around the rest of the gallery, they made their way downstairs to the small cafeteria on the ground floor. While Phoebe went to get the drinks, Julia found a table. Her clothes were as damp as her mood and the visit had done little to lift her spirits. She worried about Phoebe.
‘Here, I got you a muffin,’ Phoebe said as she set down the tray.
‘Nothing for you?’ asked Julia. ‘You’re not dieting, are you?’
‘Not particularly, why? Do you think I should?’
‘No, Phoebe, I don’t think you need to lose weight, not at all,’ Julia said and not for the first time.
Phoebe had always been self-conscious about her weight and her nan didn’t help by making direct comparisons with her two gazelle-like friends. Julia presumed Theresa thought she was helping by telling Phoebe she was just big-boned. ‘You’re perfectly proportioned,’ Julia added for emphasis.
Ignoring the platitudes, Phoebe said, ‘I’ll more than make up for it when I get home later. It’s impossible to avoid food living with Nan. She still lectures me on how my leftovers could keep a family in the Third World going for a week. And then she has the nerve to complain when I get fat.’
‘You are not fat!’
Phoebe sipped her coffee and steadfastly refused to look at the muffin Julia had broken in two. ‘Eat, Julia. You’re the one who could do with some meat on your bones.’
Julia had lost her appetite of late but setting a good example, she tore off a morsel of sponge dappled in blueberry juice and dutifully popped it into her mouth. ‘Paul and I went to the doctor this week.’
‘If that isn’t taking coupledom to the extreme then I don’t know what is,’ Phoebe said. It was offered as a joke although both remained sombre-faced.
‘It was a “couple” problem.’
‘Ah.’
Phoebe surprised them both by picking up her half of the muffin and taking a bite. Julia waited for her to ask for more detail and when Phoebe didn’t, she added, ‘We’ve been referred to a fertility specialist at the Women’s Hospital.’
‘I suppose that’s a good thing,’ Phoebe said uncertainly. ‘You’ll get some answers at least.’
‘But I don’t know if I’m ready for answers, Phoebe. It sounds churlish, I know, but the last place I want to go is to a maternity hospital where they’ll probably tell me I’m never going to need its services.’
Julia wasn’t sure what she wanted her friend to say but the silence was perhaps the worst of responses. Her mouth felt suddenly dry and she took a sip of coffee. ‘Paul’s said we should stop trying so hard to get pregnant and just let nature take its course, at least until we’ve seen the consultant and we have a plan of action. He thinks obsessing about it is putting us under too much stress.’
‘And is it?’
‘It’s certainly starting to feel that way,’ Julia said. ‘He’s the one who picks me up every month when the latest attempt has failed and I know it’s not fair because he’s hurting too. I sometimes think he’d be better off without me.’ She took a deep breath and shook her head, already disagreeing with herself. ‘I won’t give up, but the longer we leave it, the older me – and more importantly – my eggs are getting.’
‘How long would you have to wait?’
Again Phoebe hadn’t offered the reassurance she needed and Julia felt the panic that had been building rise up in her chest, making her heart flutter. ‘I don’t know exactly, but if we wait until we’ve seen the consultant, had the tests, gone back for the results, we’re talking months.’
‘A few months won’t make that much difference, surely, and maybe, just maybe, something will happen without even trying. Nan had my mum when she was your age after years of trying.’
‘And that’s the point, Phoebe, I can’t not try. I just can’t. I’ve already decided I’m going to have to do it on my own.’
Phoebe stared at her. ‘What?’
Julia tried to smile but it was beyond her. ‘What I mean is, I’ll carry on doing what I’ve already been doing; taking the ovulation tests to work out when I’m most fertile and then luring Paul into bed.’
‘Very romantic.’
‘Yeah, well, that’s the problem. Sex hasn’t been romantic for quite some time,’ she said, until a more recent memory came to mind. ‘Although …’
Phoebe held up a hand in warning. ‘Oh no you don’t! I do not want to know the details, Julia.’
‘Excuse me, but let’s not forget that you saw my husband naked long before I did.’
The joke was an old one and Julia wasn’t sure why she should mention it now. It had been a long time since she had needed reassurance that there was nothing to fear from the past. When Paul had entered her life, Julia had been nursing a broken heart, but she hadn’t been the only one with a past. He had one too, and when the time had come to introduce her new boyfriend to her friends, she had known it would be difficult.
Helen and Phoebe had been intensely protective towards Julia, who had been jilted practically at the altar only the year before, and it was Helen whose approval she had gained first, albeit reluctantly. When the time came for Paul to meet Phoebe, however, her friend had been struck dumb.
‘Is there something we need to talk about?’ Julia had asked Phoebe afterwards.
‘What? No, nothing,’ Phoebe had said, her eyes wide but somehow managing to look anywhere except Julia’s face.
‘It’s all right, Phoebe. I know you’ve probably seen more of Paul than I have – yet.’
The wide eyes turned in Julia’s direction. ‘You do?’
‘Helen told me all about it.’
Phoebe and Paul had met a couple of years earlier when Paul had been between jobs and needed to raise some extra cash. A friend had suggested life modelling and, as much for a dare as anything, he had turned up at one of Phoebe’s night-school classes. Their paths had crossed only briefly because, soon afterwards, Phoebe’s nan had decided her granddaughter was having too good a time and had made her give up her classes. Julia hadn’t been a part of Phoebe’s life back then, it was Helen who had first become reacquainted with their old friend and she had told Julia all about her exploits.
‘Look, Phoebe, I’ve only had a handful of dates with him. If this is too weird then you only have to say so and I’ll end it here and now.’
‘You’d do that?’
‘Yes, I would,’ Julia had said and she had been sure of her answer while desperately hoping that Phoebe wouldn’t put her to the test.
‘But you don’t want to?’
‘No, I don’t. I know you and Helen think it’s too soon to get involved with someone else, but I really, really like him. I think Paul’s a keeper.’
‘Then keep him,’ Phoebe had said with the same intense blush that was burning her cheeks now.
‘Anyway,’ Julia said, realizing she had shared as much intimate detail about her sex life as Phoebe could bear, ‘isn’t it about time you got up close and personal with someone? It’s been what, three years since you split up with … what’s-his-name?’
‘What’s-his-name, exactly!’ Phoebe said as if Julia had answered her own question. ‘All my relationships are destined to be brief and meaningless. It’s too much like hard work for minimum return and besides, Nan’s keeping me busier than ever these days.’
‘How is she?’ Julia asked, letting the conversation slide. ‘Not burnt the house down yet?’
‘Oh, she’s not so bad. I suppose it could be worse.’
Phoebe had been devastated when her grandmother had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years earlier and it was why she had dumped her then boyfriend, although Julia suspected she had used the diagnosis as an excuse to push away someone who was a potential threat to the mundane life she had become accustomed to with her nan. But things were going to change no matter how much Phoebe resisted.
‘She has the odd episode,’ Phoebe continued, wrapping the word in quote marks with her fingers, ‘but as long as I put everything she needs to know for the day on her reminder board, she can appear as sharp as she ever was. It’s more her physical decline that’s causing the problem.’
‘Her knee?’ Julia guessed.
‘Her doctor said that if she’d stuck to the physio after her operation, she would be fully mobile by now, but Theresa Dodd knows better. She still thinks rest is best and she won’t go out of the house unless she has to.’
‘It’s such a shame that you have a perfectly usable car parked in the drive and you can’t use it. Have you given any more thought to driving lessons?’
‘Have you seen how expensive they are? I’ve dropped a few hints to my nan to see if she’d help, but she didn’t take the bait. I don’t think she likes the idea of me driving. Too much freedom.’
‘Helen and I could buy you proper lessons as an early Christmas present.’
Phoebe shook her head. ‘I can’t let you do that. It’s fine, Julia, honestly.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Julia said, and if there was a fleeting moment when she felt uneasy making the next offer, she ignored it. ‘There’s nothing else for it. If you don’t want me teaching you then it’ll have to be Paul. I’ll send him over on Sunday afternoon. What time do you and your nan get home from all your errands?’
‘About one, but—’
‘Great, I’ll get Paul to put you on our insurance. Problem solved.’
‘But—’
‘Problem solved,’ Julia said as she shoved the last remnants of the muffin into her mouth. Her doctor had said she was a little underweight and she felt an additional sense of satisfaction as she left the table with nothing but crumbs. Whatever her husband might think, she was still working hard to reach their ultimate goal.