Monday to Friday Man Read online

  ‘Kick-boxing,’ Tanya says, when I ask her again at the reception desk what the new course is. She hands me a leaflet with a timetable.

  I smile. Me boxing? I don’t think so. But then I think of Nancy and pop the leaflet in my gym bag, telling Tanya I’ll think about it.

  44

  ‘Morning,’ says Sam when I approach our doggy circle under the oak tree. Mari is easy to spot today because she’s wearing a red coat with a peacock feather pinned into her dark hair. She looks like an exotic bird.

  ‘Where have you been?’ I don’t confess that I’m nervous about bumping into Guy, which is why I haven’t been to the park for three days. Instead I’ve been going to the gym and walking Ruskin at different times.

  ‘Hatman’s not here,’ Mari says when she sees me scan the park briefly. I haven’t seen Guy since Flora returned home.

  ‘You look tired,’ Sam observes. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

  With relief I reveal the Jack story, piece by piece, and they cluster closely around me.

  ‘Hang on, hang on. He kissed Nancy?’ Mari gasps.

  ‘The cheating rat,’ declares Walter.

  ‘Wait a minute, he has a daughter!’ proclaims Sam.

  ‘Stop! Don’t go on without me!’ says Ariel, racing over to our circle. Breathlessly he tips Pugsy out of the basket attached to his bicycle. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asks, terrified he’s missed out on the gossip.

  Briefly I tell Ariel the story, ending with the news that Jack lives with his mum.

  ‘I don’t fucking well believe it. I’m so sorry,’ he says, hugging me. ‘The bastard. All men are bastards,’ he adds, ‘that’s why we have dogs. Pugsy will give you a kiss, come here Pugsy! You need to cheer up your Auntie Gilly.’

  Ariel guides me to the bench and scoops up the oblivious Pugsy, who proceeds to snuffle and breathe heavily over me.

  Mari lights a cigarette and pours herself some coffee from her silver flask, then offers some to me.

  ‘Got anything stronger to go in that?’ Ariel suggests to Mari, and I let out a snort of laughter. Soon we’re all laughing. ‘Oh God!’ I sigh. ‘Why is life so difficult!’

  ‘A bit of brandy would be good,’ says Walter, one step behind.

  I rest my head against Ariel’s shoulder. ‘It’s going to be all right, Gillykins,’ he says, stroking my hair. ‘You’re a strong girl. How did you catch the bugger out?’

  I tell them about Guy and how I’d spent the night with him following the Nancy and Jack kiss; that he was a shoulder for me to cry on. I tell them it was Guy who was determined to find out the truth about Jack. I describe how we’d watched his daughter running into his arms. When they repeat how awful Jack is, I find myself defending him in that he clearly loves his child and she loves her dad too. I know he did a terrible thing in concealing her from me, but I won’t condemn him as an evil person.

  ‘You’re too nice, Gilly,’ Mari ticks me off. ‘Guy always told us he didn’t quite trust him,’ she adds.

  ‘I think what Guy meant was that he wasn’t good enough for you,’ Ariel says.

  ‘Thinking of Guy,’ Walter starts, ‘he was looking for you the other day, Gilly. I met Fiona too.’

  ‘Flora,’ Mari corrects him, tutting.

  ‘That’s right,’ he nods. ‘She told me they were planning to get married before Christmas. She wants a winter wedding.’

  They all stare at Walter now.

  Sam looks at me. ‘Gilly?’ she prompts, ‘something else is wrong, isn’t it? It’s about Guy, right?’

  Tears fill my eyes. Walter offers me a handkerchief from his rucksack.

  ‘I’m fine, absolutely fine.’

  Somehow I can’t face telling them what happened. I’m ashamed that I kissed someone who is about to get married. I’m no better than Nancy, am I? I’m a terrible person.

  ‘You’re not fine. Tell us,’ Ariel insists.

  ‘Oh look, there he is,’ Walter says, gesturing to Guy, at the far end of the field. He’s walking towards us. I glance at my watch and hurriedly tell them I have to go. ‘Wait!’ Mari calls, gathering her things. ‘I’ll come with you. Wait, Gilly!’

  45

  I race to the tube station with Ruskin. ‘What’s the rush?’ says Mari, struggling to keep up with me. Together we jump on the train and I breathe deeply when I take my seat, avoiding eye contact with Mari, who sits three seats down from me. I know I’m going to have to face him soon, but I’m not ready to hear about Flora and their winter wedding. Not yet. I can’t imagine looking Flora in the eye either and not showing my guilt. Guy is right. I can’t lie. I will meet Flora one of these days, so I need to be prepared. ‘What’s going on?’ Mari mouths crossly, over passengers reading their morning papers. ‘Not now,’ I mouth back.

  Along the Pimlico Road I grab my cappuccino and heated-up croissant from Manuel, and Mari and I make our way to the shop. ‘I wish you’d just spit it out,’ Mari says, unable to let it go.

  Later on in the day, Mari’s kneeling down on the floor, spectacles perched on her nose, examining some of the handwritten labels on our vases.

  She glances my way, telling me we need to reprice some of the stock because she needs to shift this lot before going on a buying trip early next year. I agree. ‘I could make a Christmas sale sign in the window too,’ I tell her, thankful that I’m going to be kept busy today.

  As I’m about to mount my beautiful ‘For Sale’ sign in the front window I see him. I drop the board and stagger back down onto the shop floor. ‘I’m not here!’ I say, squeezing past Mari and all the vases, heading for the stairs. ‘Tell him I’m not here!’

  ‘Why? Who is it?’ Mari stares at me. ‘Oh, it’s not Guy, is it?’ she says now, swinging round. ‘This is ridiculous!’

  ‘Just tell him,’ I beseech, before crashing down the stairs.

  ‘Mari, hi. How are you?’ he asks, but before she answers he says, ‘Is Gilly here?’

  Ruskin barks.

  ‘Hey, Ruskin! Gilly? Is she here?’

  ‘Um. Sorry, Guy you’ve just missed her,’ Mari replies.

  ‘Oh. Really?’

  I hear the rustle of paper.

  ‘They’re lovely. Beautiful flowers.’

  ‘Mari, can I stay here until she gets back? I really need to talk to her.’

  ‘I’m afraid she left for the day. She wasn’t feeling great this morning.’

  Well done, Mari, you’re doing well.

  ‘Left?’ he persists.

  ‘She went home.’

  ‘Why didn’t she take Ruskin then?’

  ‘Did I say home?’ She laughs falsely.

  ‘Mari, you’re talking rubbish. She just doesn’t want to talk to me, does she?’

  Silence. I hesitate. Come on, I tell myself. Talk to him. Get up and go upstairs. Talk to him. What do you think you’re doing?

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on between you two,’ Mari finally says, ‘but she doesn’t want to see you right now, Hatman.’

  ‘Fine. Fine,’ he repeats impatiently. ‘Tell Gilly that when she’s ready to talk I’m around.’

  I hear the tinkle of the door.

  ‘I’m never going to do that for you again,’ Mari berates me when I join her upstairs. ‘I won’t pay you until you tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘That’s blackmail,’ I smile ashamedly, knowing I shouldn’t have made Mari lie for me.

  ‘Call it what you like, nada money until you tell me.’

  ‘Mari, can I take a week off?’

  ‘Gilly, you’re worrying me. Are you in trouble?’

  ‘No. I just need to get away.’ And then I tell her.

  Later that night, I meet Anna and Susie for drinks. They both insist I need to talk to Guy, echoing Mari’s advice too.

  ‘OK, he’s engaged,’ Anna says carefully, ‘but I always think you should tell people how you feel. I told Paul, and in the end he worked it out for himself. At least tell Guy how you feel. How do you feel?’ she adds
.

  ‘Confused,’ I say.

  Susie tells me she’s taking the children to Aldeburgh in Suffolk for five days to see her parents. She’s sure they’d love to see me too. The house will be cold, she warns me, but there are some lovely fish-and-chip pubs and the sea air is always good for the mind and soul. ‘Would you like to come with us?’ she asks.

  ‘Go,’ Anna encourages me. ‘Get out of London.’

  46

  Susie, the children, Ruskin and I go on long coastal walks, I read to my goddaughter, Rose, before bedtime and play cards with Susie’s parents, Tom and Diane. They are an interesting, glamorous couple. Over supper they tell me about their old life in New York, and how Tom had set up a jewellery company on Manhattan Avenue. ‘It was always my dream to live in America,’ Tom said.

  When both the children and the parents are in bed, Susie and I stay up chatting and drinking red wine until the early hours of the morning. I soak up her company; being with her is like basking in the sunshine. I also have some time to write. During the day I find a quiet space in the house and plot my novel in my head and make notes on each character. This is exactly what I needed, I tell Susie, thanking her for inviting me. Susie agrees with my sentiments and says, ‘I love Mark, but it’s good for me to get away too.’

  The best thing about Aldeburgh, however, is that there is no reception, nor do Susie’s parents own a television. So for a week my mobile is dead and I don’t have to talk to anyone. Nor am I reminded of the approaching final of Stargazer, with all the accompanying adverts. Instead I have time to think. At night my thoughts are dark. I lie in bed and imagine being old and sitting in a rocking chair that overlooks the sea, reflecting on my life. I know I’d have regrets. I’d feel sorry that I didn’t have a closer relationship with my mother. Nick and I chose to live with our father, we made a pact that we twins would always stay together, and Nick was determined not to forgive Mum, so my choice was made. I think about Guy and how I feel about him. I replay our kiss over and over in my mind. I know now I was never in love with Jack. Or Ed.

  In the morning I’m brighter. I think about the more practical things, for example the list of things I need to do when I return home, starting with looking for another Monday to Friday man and the second, more important thing: writing. No excuses any more, Gilly. Susie’s father followed his dream and lived in America. I need to do the same.

  The third is to forget about Guy and our kiss because, as Gloria once said, there is no point wasting my time on someone engaged. But I will talk to him.

  For a whole week I escape from London: the tubes, the crowds, even Ravenscourt Park, and enjoy the peace of the sea, the fresh air and the company.

  It’s only when I get back into my car and begin the long journey back to London that my mobile wakes up, telling me I have ten new messages. I’ll deal with them when I get home, I promise myself.

  My restful holiday abruptly comes to an end when I see him standing outside my front door.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asks, helping me unload the car.

  ‘Away.’ I look at him, confused. I can’t remember the last time he visited No. 21.

  ‘Nick? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I needed to see you.’

  ‘Come in. Are you all right?’

  He follows Ruskin and me inside. ‘I’ve had enough. I’ve left her,’ he says.

  As I make us a late-night snack of toast and peanut butter, Nick tells me how stupid he’s been, how seduced he was by Nancy when they first met. ‘She was so glamorous and I was flattered by her attention, but I don’t think we ever really loved each other,’ he says, hurt in his voice. ‘Gilly, when I found out she’d kissed Jack, do you know what I felt?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Nothing. I felt numb. I didn’t care. I couldn’t even focus on what she’d done to you. It was then that I knew I couldn’t continue living a lie because that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? I’m living a lie. I care that she’s the mother of my children, I care so much that the children don’t get hurt, but . . .’ He shakes his head sadly. ‘I’m scared to leave her, but if I don’t . . .’ He pauses. ‘You were right . . . I deserve more, don’t I?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m going to need your support,’ he declares, vulnerability in his eyes. ‘I think I left a long time ago. I’m there, in the house . . . but . . .’

  ‘You’re not there? In the way Mum left us the moment Megan died.’ I take his hand.

  ‘I am doing the right thing, aren’t I?’

  I think about this. ‘I don’t think it’s right being this unhappy.’

  ‘I worry about leaving the children, what it’s going to do to them. I’m abandoning them,’ he says, tormented.

  ‘No, you aren’t. You’re a wonderful dad,’ I stress. ‘Wonderful, and they won’t lose you. You can’t compare your situation to what happened to us. It’s not the same, Nick.’

  He curls his hand into a fist. ‘I won’t let them down, Gilly, I can’t,’ he swears to himself. ‘I love them so much. I’m going to be there for them no matter what, just like Dad was there for us.’

  ‘I know you will. I know you will. And Nancy?’ I ask, dreading the answer. ‘How is she taking it?’

  He tells me that they’ve agreed to part amicably. To his surprise she’s been quite gracious, admitting too that she hasn’t been happy for some time. For all her faults and despite her loathing of Richmond, they’ve both agreed to stay in the neighbourhood to cause as little disruption for the children as possible.

  ‘I’m sorry about Jack too,’ Nick now says. ‘Really sorry. Look at us,’ he reflects.

  I smile. ‘What a pair we are.’

  ‘But maybe, with Jack, it’s good . . .’

  ‘Good? What do you mean?’

  ‘Good you found out sooner rather than later,’ he explains. ‘Being with the wrong person is even more lonely than being on your own.’

  47

  It’s 6 December, Megan’s anniversary. She would have been twenty-eight today.

  I suffer déjà vu as I re-enter my spare-room details with a photograph of my sitting room, hoping to get a quick response. Over the past three months I’ve become used to having some extra rent money that helps not only towards my mortgage but occasionally allows me to buy new dresses too. I would still recommend anyone to rent out their spare room from Monday to Friday, not even the likes of Jack Baker has put me off. I press the REGISTER NOW button. As I log off, I smile, remembering the panic it had caused that very first time.

  ‘Oh, Megan, let’s hope I find a lovely straightforward person to live with me,’ I say, picking up the small framed photograph of her on my writing desk. She’s sitting in her special chair wearing a deep-red velvet pinafore dress with matching shoes. A chocolate cake is in front of her, lit with two candles, and her pretty brown hair is pinned back with two pale-pink clips. She was so beautiful.

  The telephone rings. It’s Anna, to say she’s thinking of me today. She has to hang up abruptly because she’s just seen a fox in her tiny garden.

  Anna’s wonderful the way she remembers Megan’s anniversary, without fail, every year. I’m lucky to have such a good friend.

  I smile, remembering Anna and I rushing home from school, deciding what we were going to sing to Megan that night.

  ‘She loves our ballet stuff,’ Anna said breathlessly, her satchel strap flung over her shoulder. ‘We could do the wedding dance again!’ For my tenth birthday Mum had taken us all to the ballet Giselle, and Megan had loved the costumes. During one act girls in pearl-white wedding dresses lit up the whole stage. They looked like sparkling jewels set against the deep-blue night sky. Even Nick held his breath.

  ‘Or we could do the Bonny Tyler song, she likes that,’ I said.

  I think it was Bonny Tyler, I can’t really remember now, but it was a terrible song anyway.

  ‘Hi, Mum!’ I called out as we dumped our lunch boxes and satchels in the hallway. We found Mum in the kitc
hen drinking tea, some spreadsheets in front of her and what looked like airline tickets. She whipped them away as she said hello to us. I crouched down next to Megan and took hold of her plump hand and she smiled at me, that lovely smile. ‘Hello, Gilly,’ she beamed. ‘Look at my tights!’ She was wearing navy tights with embroidered daisies. Megan always loved to choose her own clothes, indignant if Mum didn’t match her tights with her dress. Anna bent down to join us, taking hold of the other hand, telling Megan she loved her outfit. When my school friends asked me if I wanted to go to their house to play with their new toys I’d always say no. I had Megan, with her long eyelashes that curled like half-moons, her plump cheeks that I loved to kiss and her large blue eyes that shone the moment I walked into the room.

  Anna and I drew the curtains and dimmed the lights of the sitting room. Megan was in position, her chair close to the kitchen door. Through the narrow crack of the door I saw Mum at the table again, deep in concentration. ‘Ready?’ Anna said, standing poised by the music machine after a number of false starts. She pressed ‘play’. Megan’s laugh filled the room.

  I smile at my desk, singing the song, ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’, picturing Anna and I cavorting across the sitting room with hairbrushes as microphones, belting out the words. Sometimes Megan would sing and hum along to the tune, especially if it was one she knew well. If we were brave, Anna and I would attempt a descant. At the end of our song Mum would call out from the kitchen, ‘Very good!’ Sometimes she’d even clap.

  Later that day Dad, Nick and I walk up Primrose Hill. We visit Megan’s church in the evening and we all light a candle for her. I think about Guy, remembering him doing this for her too, and feel a deep ache for him. I hate myself for missing him. I’ve thought about returning his calls, but each time I picture him with Flora, busy organizing their wedding plans, I shut down and decide to ring him the next day.