Monday to Friday Man Read online

  Pictures of her parents, both dead, are displayed in photograph frames. Her mother died of cancer in her fifties; her father died only two years ago, aged eighty-six. Gloria couldn’t leave the house for months; his death hit her like a freight train. I used to drag her round the park with Ruskin and me to get some fresh air. I took over meals: hot soups and stews. Sometimes I’d just sit with her on a Sunday evening to make sure she wasn’t alone. You see, her father had visited her every Sunday; he’d helped her in the garden, and in the evening they’d go to the pub together. When he died, I was with Ed at the time, and I sometimes wondered if she’d ever be able to pick herself up again. But she did – that’s the remarkable thing about the human spirit.

  Beneath Gloria’s sunny facade, she’s carried a lot of burdens. Over the years I discovered that she had lost a brother, Laurie, when she was five years old. Laurie died from cot death. Gloria couldn’t eat afterwards, she felt sick all the time, believing it was her fault. She recalled how her mother had to cram porridge into her. After his death she didn’t enjoy being an only child. She told me it had made her grow up too quickly and, just like me, she knew what it was like living in an atmosphere of sadness.

  With supper plates on our laps, Gloria switches over to some of the digital channels and pauses on a repeat show of Stargazer.

  ‘It means the world to me,’ the contestant says emotionally. ‘I’ll be devastated if I don’t get through.’

  ‘For pity’s sake, she can’t be more than fourteen,’ Gloria huffs, tucking her chin in, before going on, ‘they don’t know what devastation means. Devastation is losing a loved one or your house burning down without insurance, or being diagnosed with some awful incurable illness.’

  I smile, picturing Jack and me dancing last night. We must have been drunk.

  ‘I don’t want to go back to school and be ordinary,’ the contestant continues. ‘All me life I’ve wanted to be famous.’

  ‘Fame,’ Gloria berates. ‘What happened to good old-fashioned work? I tell you, we’re losing tradesmen like plumbers, electricians, builders like my dad, school-dinner ladies like my mum, because all children want now are jobs that don’t require hard work.’

  ‘Switch over then.’

  ‘No. I love this show. I really want little Hal to win. What about you? Who do you think should win?’

  Gloria turns to me, waiting for an opinion, but I’m still thinking about last night. I’d forgotten how lovely it is to feel arms around me, how sexy it is when a man kisses the nape of my neck, how wonderful it is to be touched by someone. I remember him slipping off my nightshirt, kissing my bare shoulders…

  ‘What is it with you tonight, Gilly? You’ve been grinning like a Cheshire cat ever since you arrived. More wine?’

  ‘Ugh. No thanks.’

  Gloria turns the television to mute. ‘Oh my God, you’re not pregnant, are you?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Well, what is it?’

  ‘I saw this show live last night. I was there. I had a date with Jack.’

  Gloria smiles, as if it all makes sense now, especially my keenness to return to the gym tomorrow for more swimming.

  I tell her about the evening and she listens as attentively as a child being read a bedtime story. ‘One evening with Jack has knocked a whole year off my life,’ I tell her. ‘He’s the kind of person that makes me feel like anything is possible. But …’ I put my head into my hands.

  ‘What’s the problem?’

  ‘Everyone knows you shouldn’t sleep with a man too soon,’ I say.

  ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this happy, so you go for it. Tell me more. What’s he like apart from being a real dreamboat?’

  I smile at the word ‘dreamboat’. ‘He’s charming, makes me laugh …’ A great kisser, I think to myself. ‘I don’t know much more about him, Gloria. The strange thing is, whenever I ask him anything personal, he seems a bit uneasy.’ When I had asked Jack about going to university at Bath he’d told me he’d meant to say college, repeating that he’d left school after taking his A levels. When I’d asked him what he gets up to at the weekends, he’d changed the subject quickly.

  ‘Well,’ she says dismissively, ‘that’s no bad thing. It takes time to get to know someone.’

  ‘He does make me feel young again,’ I sigh happily.

  ‘You make the most of it,’ she advises. ‘I’m not saying marry the guy, just get to know him, enjoy the sex and if he’s not right, see if he has any nice friends. Broaden your horizon, that’s what life’s all about.’

  I nod. ‘I’d love to meet someone, but then again if I don’t ever marry, if I live a life like yours, I’ll be a lucky girl.’

  Gloria retired a year ago, and now she travels to see friends, ‘does’ lunch, goes to the theatre, enjoys art exhibitions, eats out, visits her old aunt in California, holidays with her best friend in Rome; she basically does what she wants and looks wonderful on this diet of ‘do as you please’ for life.

  She shakes her head. ‘I’m not saying that a man will make you happy,’ she says. ‘Goodness, you marry someone and you’re simply trading one set of problems for another. But believe me, I wish I was young again, see how I’d do things differently, Gilly,’ she says. ‘Let the music play with Jack. See what happens.’

  My mobile rings and Susie’s name lights up the screen. I excuse myself, telling Gloria that I won’t be long.

  The children are finally in bed, Susie tells me, and she’s sitting with a glass of wine in the kitchen, dying to know how the rest of the evening went, after she’d rushed off last night. She screams down the phone, before trying to compose herself. ‘Don’t rush into it, Gilly.’

  ‘Bit too late for that.’

  ‘Oh my God, Gilly!’

  ‘You liked him, didn’t you?’

  They’d only met briefly after the show. ‘Yes.’

  I’m sensing a ‘but’. ‘He seemed great. Just be careful,’ she says. This is what Anna had hinted at too. ‘Take your time, get to know him,’ she’d said. Since Ed left me, friends now treat me like a fragile piece of glass, terrified I’ll get broken again.

  When I hang up, I join Gloria back in the sitting room. ‘I just hope I’m not being too head in the clouds about this. I’m thirty-four, – I haven’t got time to muck around with the wrong men. I need to make good choices.’

  Gloria surveys me, twitches her mouth. ‘You’re never sure about a damn thing, sweetheart. If you’re not dithering you’re asleep. Something else is bothering you. What is it?’

  I’m thinking about Guy. I tell Gloria about our close friendship and while I fancy my lodger, I have this strange need to be with this other man. ‘I can’t explain it,’ I say.

  ‘You’re heading down a dead-end road with him.’ She shakes her head wisely. ‘Just leave that one be and keep Guy as a friend. Believe me, it’s no fun going after men who aren’t attainable.’

  She’s right. Leave it be.

  Gloria looks at me. ‘Why don’t you cut your hair?’ she suggests.

  My style hasn’t changed in years. My hair is long. Self-consciously I flick a hand through it.

  ‘You should have a makeover,’ she continues. ‘Get some va va voom back in your life!’

  ‘Oh Gloria,’ I roll my eyes.

  ‘Don’t you dare, “oh Gloria” me. You’re a beautiful woman, Gilly, don’t let the world pass you by. As much as I enjoy having you here you should be out with the likes of Jack Baker having fun. It’s time to forget about the past and be happy.’

  I confess to Gloria that my friends are overly protective towards me now.

  ‘Maybe you will get hurt, but isn’t that better than feeling nothing?’

  I think about this. ‘What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done, Gloria?’

  She thinks. ‘I was seven at the time, shopping in the Portobello market and suddenly had this wild urge to steal something. So, I picked up a potato and a carrot, stuffed them both down m
y jumper and ran home, but the funny thing was I felt so guilty that I threw them over the neighbour’s garden fence.’ She smiles. ‘I went to confession that week. I was convinced I’d burn in hell.’

  I smile. ‘When I was about seven too I was sure I’d go to prison for walking onto a station platform without a ticket. How about as an adult though? What’s the biggest risk you’ve taken?’

  ‘I’ve done lots of things I shouldn’t have,’ she admits, ‘like falling in love with a married man and thinking I’d never get hurt.’

  ‘Oh, Gloria,’ I say. ‘Do you wish you’d ever met anyone else? You’re too special to be alone,’ I add.

  ‘But I’m not alone. I chose this.’ She strokes Guinness, now on her lap. ‘The thing is, ducks, I must be about the only woman who said she didn’t want to get married and who actually, deep down, meant it.’

  29

  ‘It’s time for a makeover,’ Gloria had said last night, ‘time to get some va va voom back in your life!’

  It’s time to go shopping.

  I ring Susie on the offchance she’s around today. Maybe Mark can look after Rose and Olly? Damn. Susie’s not free. She has to take Rose to a birthday party. I know Anna is spending the weekend with Paul. I try Ariel but get no answer.

  There is only one more person to ask.

  ‘Nancy Cooper-Brown speaking.’

  ‘Nancy, it’s Gilly.’

  ‘Matilda, darling, there’s a good girl. Those are Mummy’s organic oats, aren’t they? Put them DOWN!’ she insists.

  Deep breath. While Nancy proceeds to scream at Tilda for tipping up the breakfast cereal I check my emails.

  ‘Sorry, Gilly,’ she says finally. ‘This is unexpected. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Well, I’m sure you have plans this weekend…’

  ‘No plans. Nicholas is upstairs. Working. Why?’

  ‘I have a small favour to ask,’ I continue tentatively. ‘I need some advice.’

  ‘You want my advice,’ Nancy repeats, and I can sense her excitement and surprise.

  ‘Like you said, I’m nearly thirty-five and if I want to meet someone perhaps it is time for a change, a new me and …’ I am going to have to be brave and risk allowing Nancy into a corner of my life. ‘I need your help. I’m going out with a lovely man next week and I want to look sensational!’

  ‘Tilda!’ she says, ‘Auntie Gilly has a date! A date!’

  I can’t help smiling, holding the phone away from my ear.

  ‘I’d love to help. I’ve always told Nicholas you could make so much more of yourself. Let’s go to Fenwick’s!’

  ‘Well, I was thinking…’

  ‘I know what you should do straight away! Cut off that mop of hair and … oh! I’ll call Lydia, see if she can squeeze you in for a facial. New hair, new clothes, a brand new you! I’ll pinch Nicholas’s credit card and take you shopping; he’ll never know.’

  ‘He will if you don’t keep your voice down,’ I suggest.

  ‘When can we start?’

  ‘Well, how about now?’

  ‘Nicholas! Change of plan!’ she cries out in ecstasy. ‘You need to look after the kids. Oh, this is so exciting! Who’s the lucky man?’

  ‘There’s nobody old and ugly in LA, you can’t get away with it,’ Nancy tells me as we take a black cab to Bond Street. She looks out of the window. ‘I mean, why does that young man over there think that jeans halfway down his bottom is a good look? The world has to look at us, so we owe it to people to look decent.’

  Nancy feels more at home in Los Angeles than in London. She and Nick lived there for two years when they were first married because my brother had landed a high-profile copyright job in the movie industry. Nancy didn’t want to return to the UK. Richmond seemed so drab and suburban by comparison.

  As Nancy discusses our itinerary for the day, I find myself switching off and going back to the time when I first met my sister-in-law. I can remember her so clearly saying to Dad and me that she didn’t like shopping or fancy things; that she was a simple girl at heart. However, the weeks leading up to their wedding proved otherwise. Nancy, estranged from her mother, didn’t want to get married at home. She wanted to marry abroad, in Greece. My father offered to pay for the wedding. He wanted to support them both, especially Nick, but became increasingly concerned when the costs started to spiral out of control. Nancy had arranged various parties including a rehearsal dinner consisting of a five-course menu and the finest wine. For the wedding itself, a vintage car transported the couple to the church and then when the time came for them to leave for their honeymoon, a speedboat whizzed them across the sea. When I hinted to Nick that it was possibly vulgar to be this showy he wouldn’t listen to me. He was in love.

  Once he married, Nancy changed everything about him that she could. Nick used to have a small gap between his teeth that gave him character, but she took him to a private Harley Street dentist to get it fixed. He also had a small mole on his left cheek, which again made him look individual, but the mole didn’t have a hope in hell. It was gouged out by a leading dermatologist, Dr Cream (Nancy didn’t laugh at the name), famous for his removal of moles.

  There was a moment when I was worried for my twin. On the morning of their wedding, Nancy had lost her engagement ring on the beach. Anyone would have thought she’d lost a child. We sent search parties out, metal detectors were hired, and Nancy was in turmoil, convinced that it was a terrible portent of their marriage. Seeing how much distress she was in, I said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, Nancy, it’s just a ring. The main thing is you haven’t lost Nick.’

  If looks could kill, I’d have been dead on the spot. It was then that I felt a dread that perhaps this wasn’t the fairy-tale marriage that I’d imagined.

  Fast-forward eight years and Nick and Nancy are still together, but I fear, behind closed doors, there isn’t much affection left. I look over to Nancy and try to remember the last time I saw them holding hands or laughing with each other.

  As Nancy and I enter Fenwick’s I feel as if I am following a sergeant major.

  ‘Gilly, keep up!’ she shouts over her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, sir!’ I say, struggling along behind her.

  Nancy marches round the store, knowing precisely what to pick off the rails for me, without even a glimpse at the price tag. It would appear she’s not only sorting out a dress for my date but rebuilding my entire wardrobe.

  ‘Absolutely not!’ she says when I glance at a pair of flat shoes. ‘Men love women in heels,’ she insists. ‘They have to be as high as the Empire State Building.’

  ‘Why are you always in trousers?’ she demands when I hide a pair of skinny jeans in the changing room. Matilda also tells me I can never be a princess because I don’t wear dresses enough.

  ‘What makes you think you suit black, Gilly?’ she asks, grabbing the dark tops from me. ‘Do you want your date to mistake you for a crow from across the table.’

  ‘You should have your colours done, you’ve got to be a winter,’ she asserts, handing me a selection of deep-blue, emerald, silver and plum-coloured dresses. ‘You’ve got good legs, show them off,’ she says, thrusting a pink suede miniskirt through the changing-room curtain.

  ‘Those can go straight in the bin,’ she says, pointing to my comfortable cotton knickers. And, before I know it, a lingerie manager is measuring my bust. She then proceeds to tell me sternly that I am wearing the wrong-sized bra.

  As I am trying on push-up bras and lacy thongs Nancy winces at my pale body. ‘Gilly, you have a lovely figure, I’d love to be tall like you, but honestly, dead people look more warmed up than you,’ she laughs before telling me a fake tan will take off the edge.

  ‘Where’s Jack taking you on this date?’ she asks from behind the curtain as I try on what feels like the thousandth dress. ‘It’s a surprise,’ I call out, ‘probably some club – he mentioned dancing.’

  ‘Mm. I want to meet him,’ she says thoughtfully. ‘You must invite him to your birt
hday dinner.’

  As planned, Nancy is organizing my birthday party in five weeks.

  ‘Perhaps, I’ll see how it goes, Nancy. Now this is the last one,’ I tell her, stepping out of the cubicle in a shimmering emerald-coloured dress that falls just above my knee. The shop assistant tells me that the colour looks striking set against my dark hair. Nancy doesn’t utter a word.

  ‘You hate it, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh my God! Gilly, you could go to the Oscars in that dress.’

  ‘Really?’ I examine myself in the mirror, my cheeks flushing from Nancy’s compliment. ‘It’s not too dressy, is it? Over the top?’ I ask, fiddling with one of the straps.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ she declares. ‘You are going to knock Jack Baker’s little socks off.’

  Nancy and I are waiting for our lowlights to cook, sitting under large hairdryers and reading glossy magazines.

  How much longer, I think, looking at myself in the mirror with these ridiculous silver bits of foil sprouting out of my hair like worms. I’m worried about Ruskin. He’s been on his own for too long and will need to go out.

  ‘He’s just a dog,’ Nancy says, reading my mind. ‘They have no idea about time. Tell me more about this Monday to Friday man then,’ she demands.

  ‘Well, as I’ve said, he works in TV, lives in Bath…’

  ‘Yes, yes, but what’s he like?’

  ‘He’s fun, generous, he’s …’ I stop, unsure what I want to tell Nancy. ‘I think I really like him,’ I say, ‘but I don’t know if he feels the same.’

  She nods understandingly. ‘Well, I look forward to meeting him. You’ll knock him out in that dress. Inviting him to your birthday is the perfect way to test him,’ she says.

  ‘Test him?’

  ‘Yes. You can tell him you have a monster sister-in-law,’ she turns to me, silver foil flashing in her hair and pulls a scary face, and for the first time I find her endearing, ‘so if he says he’ll come along then it’s serious, Gilly. Men who aren’t keen don’t want to suffer family parties and photograph albums.’