The Rose Petal Beach (18 page)

I look her over, imagining myself feeling that comfortable again. Her features that are as fine-boned as the rest of her body, giving her a china-doll-like appearance; her complexion that’s always had that strawberries-and-cream look to it with or without make-up, her hair—whoa!

‘What happened to you?’ I shriek. Her hair used to be a mass of shiny red curls that spiralled all the way down her back, now she has a platinum blonde, chin-length bob. How did I not notice that? I must be so mired in my problems I didn’t even look at her.

Her face creases with a grin. ‘You like?’ she says, scrunching her fingers through the silky length of her tresses.

‘Yes, yes, I like,’ I reply. ‘When did that happen?’

‘This week. I walked past a hairdresser’s in Glasgow and I thought, I’m going for a change. I’ve been a bit flat lately so I thought this might liven me up. It’s worked a treat.’ She scrunches her fingers through her hair again. ‘You really like?’

‘Yes, I really like.’ I reply. She’s a different person, of course. You don’t go from red and long to short and blonde and stay the same. But it’s not a bad thing, at all. ‘It really suits you.’

‘I did a Skype call with Mum the other day and she hates it. But I told her, “Gentleman prefer blondes don’t you know, Mother? I’ve listened to what you said about me needing a man and it’s the only way to get a man.” Soon shut her up. Her husband couldn’t stop laughing.’

‘How is Mrs Beatrix’s Mum?’

‘Fine. She drives me potty, and I wish she didn’t live all the way over there in Sydney but she’s happy and I can’t wish for more than that, can I?’ Beatrix says, a huge smile on her face.

‘No,’ I reply.

‘It’ll be all right,’ she reassures me. ‘All this stuff with Scotty and Mirabelle will work itself out for the best and everything will be OK.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ I say.

‘It will, but let me say one thing. Don’t let yourself be pushed around on this. If you need Scotty to leave while you get your head together, you make him do that. My biggest regret from when my husband did this to me was that I didn’t throw him out the second I found out. He might have come back then, if I removed that option.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘I’m not saying you should do it, I’m just saying if that’s what you want, don’t be afraid of doing it. It’d serve him right.’

‘Enough about me,’ I say to her because making him leave is not something I’ve even considered. ‘Tell me everything about your date and the man from the plane.’

‘You are so going to regret saying that,’ she says.

For the next two hours, she takes me away from here and everything going on, and carries me on the waves of her words to another life that has nothing to do with me. It feels like the best two hours I’ve had in months.

You have a lot of explaining to do. Call me as soon as poss. Bea x

I LOVE Tami. She’s like the sister I never had. She’s such a warm, giving person. That makes it all the harder to say this, but I think she’s brought a lot of this on herself.
Urgh
. I feel
awful
even thinking that. But – hear me out now – if you look at the facts of the matter, it’s true. I wish it wasn’t. I wish I could look at their relationship from the outside and say it was a surprise, that he was insane to stray, but I can’t say those things without my pants instantly catching fire.

They’ve been barely surviving as a couple. When I met her, she was seven months gone with Cora and glowing. Remember, I’d met Scotty before and he’d dropped into conversation his wife was pregnant? I’d been keeping my eye out for her every time I passed their house on the way to George Street, the main street in Hove, but actually saw her coming out of WHSmith down there. She was wearing big sunglasses, her hair was loose, and she was grinning at people as she walked along, her hand constantly rubbing her large baby-filled stomach. I noticed her because of her smile, always at hand, and brightened the already luminescent beauty of her face even behind the sunglasses.

She was in front of me as I wandered home and my heart sort of skipped when she turned into Providence Close because I knew by sight most people who lived there, which meant she was probably her. The woman Scotty was married to.

‘Hi ya,’ I called as she was about to push her key into the front door lock. She turned and looked at me.

‘Hi,’ she said, and pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, her smile back on her face.

‘You’re Scotty’s wife?’ I said.

‘Yes, and you must be the friendly neighbour, Beatrix?’ she said.

‘Guilty.’

She grinned, although I didn’t think it was possible for her smile to get any wider, or for her to look any more radiant.

‘I’ve finally met one neighbour who’s my age now,’ she said. ‘I’m Tami.’

‘Oh, yeah, this road full of old giffers. I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course.’ I added, in case she thought I was a bitch. ‘So pleased you and Scotty have moved in.’

‘So pleased to be here. Can you come in for a coffee? It’d be nice to get to know you.’

I was meant to get back to work, my sales reports weren’t going to write themselves, but I wanted to look around the house and I wanted to talk to this woman. I wanted to know what sort of woman Scotty married, and what sort of woman chose a man like Scotty.

The afternoon was lost in laughing and joking and drinking cups of tea in the shell of their kitchen which was being remodelled. We sat there for so long that Scotty came home. Her whole body seemed to light up when she heard his key in the lock, and when he kissed her after kissing the baby hello, I noticed how her hand lingered on him, wanting to keep touching him for as long as possible.

Contrast that with now. When was the last time I saw a smile on Tami’s face about something that Scotty had done or simply who he was? She didn’t become radiant and luminescent around him or when talking about him any more. Sometimes, I’d be sitting at the dinner table and she would barely glance in his direction. She would serve him his meal and there’d be no secret smile to tell him she loved him, no extra portion to show he was number
one, no surreptitious wink to reveal she thought he was the sexiest man alive.

Over the years, Tami has become all about the kids. All about feeding them, getting them ready for school, homework, activities, play, development, bed, Cora, Anansy, Cora, Anansy, Cora, Anansy. Where was the space for Scotty? Where did he fit in with the grand scheme?

I’d asked them both that question once about two-and-a-half years ago, when I was trying to get them to see their relationship was under threat.

‘Nowhere, clearly,’ Scott said so dejectedly I thought my heart would break for him.

‘Where does Scott fit in?’ Tami replied. ‘Where do I or the girls fit in with his life is what you should be asking.’

‘But he feels shut out of everything here, I’m sure of it.’

‘So you think I should peel his grapes and suck his cock a bit more to change that?’ she said, shocking me with her language. That wasn’t what I’d expected from her at all. ‘What about me? I do all the housework and all the childcare as well as working. Are you saying on top of all that I’m expected to make sure he’s feeling loved and valued, too? Who’s meant to do that for me?’

I shrugged at her because she sort of had a point.

‘Scott is the love of my life. But I can’t help thinking if he was more involved with day-to-day family life – you know, doing the laundry or Hoovering once in a while, even being home in time to put the girls to bed – he might feel more a part of things. Plus we’d both have more time for each other.’

I wish I’d made her listen, I wish I’d made her see that a man like Scotty needs adulation to feel complete. He needs to feel wanted and needed. Hoovering, laundry, putting the girls to bed wasn’t going to change the basic fact that Scotty was an alpha male and alpha males need to be as close to worshipped as they can get.

He wasn’t completely blameless, oh no. He should have taken
more of an interest in her. Bought her flowers, little presents, even a bit of sexy underwear. I told him this. He’d squeezed his face and said she’d flip if he bought her underwear because then she’d have to have sex with him and that wouldn’t happen. If they’d both tried, they wouldn’t be here today.

Don’t even think of ignoring me, Scotty. This isn’t going to go away. Bea x

I knew, too, that this thing with Mirabelle was going to blow up. A few weeks back, Scotty managed to get us tickets to one of the Premier League end-of-season matches up in London. We didn’t support either of the teams, can barely remember who it was that was playing come to think of it, but they were corporate tickets for the private box and it was a chance to see a live match and you just don’t pass up those opportunities. We went up on the train because we both fancied a drink with the posh lunch we were going to be served. A few people from his work were going too, so we’d had to dress up for the occasion. I’d said I’d look after the girls so Tami could go, but she’d said, ‘I’d rather stick knitting needles in my eyes’ so I’d gone. Which I was secretly pleased about since I LOVE football. On the way there and during the match he’d seemed happy and unburdened. We drank, laughed, joked – even managed to watch some of the game – and then we had to get a car back on the company account because we missed the train home. The closer we drew to Brighton the quieter he became until he confessed – after much prompting from me – he was dreading going home, dreading seeing Mirabelle at work on Monday or on the street any time.

‘Why, Scotty?’ I asked, concerned by how down he seemed.

‘She’s … she’s been giving me the come on,’ he said. ‘I’m finding it hard to say no.’

‘What, you’re into her?’ I asked, horrified. ‘You want to start something up with her?’

‘Of course not,’ he reassured, ‘I’m just finding it hard to get her to leave me alone. Tami has no idea what she’s really like.’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Get tough with her,’ he said, like it was some great effort. A person like him didn’t run an international company by being squeamish. ‘I’m scared, though, she’s going to go crying sexual harassment or something.’

‘Urgh! Women like that make me sick. They make it hard for all of us women in business.’

Scotty’s gaze rested quite affectionately on me but he didn’t say anything.

‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ I asked.

‘Tami wouldn’t see it that way. She’d be asking without asking if there was any merit to Mirabelle’s claims. She thinks women have it tough in the corporate world.’

‘Only if you choose to be a victim,’ I said to him.

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘That’s exactly it. It’s nice to talk to someone who understands for a change.’

I can’t abide women like Mirabelle. I can’t abide Mirabelle herself, either. Tami tried several times to get us to be all matey but I couldn’t stick her. Maybe it’s because even back then I got a sense Mirabelle was after Scotty.

OK, seeing as you can’t seem to find your dialling or texting finger, I’ll just go out with the new guy at work instead of babysitting the girls like I planned so you can go out to talk. It’s fine if I’m the only one wanting to save things here. I’ll leave you alone now. Bea x

Once again it’s me who can see what a mess they’ve got themselves into and it’s me who has the solution. Anyone would think it was my marriage.

Anansy and Cora are tucked up in their beds, so excited they can hardly keep still. Beatrix is looking after them tonight so she’s brought over a sleeping bag to use on the roll-out bed we have between their beds.

‘You’re not going to sleep tonight, are you?’ I say to the three of them as they peek out from under their rainbow of covers.

‘We will,’ they reply in unison – even Beatrix.

My body sags in defeat at how this is going to pan out. ‘All three of you are going to be a mess tomorrow,’ I state. ‘I’m going to suffer for this when you all get really tired really early and nothing I do will be good enough.’

‘We’re going to be good,’ Cora says, her mouth hidden by her yellow duvet, but her little nose and tapered, large brown eyes shining with unvented exhilaration.

‘Very good,’ Anansy, with her pink duvet tucked under chin, her expression the mirror image of Cora’s, adds.

‘Really, very good,’ Beatrix ends. Her eyes are green, her hair is blonde, her skin is pale but she looks exactly like the girls – as if the intoxicating thrill of Christmas, their birthdays and every holiday ever been on have been torturous compared to this.

‘Right. I trust you.’ Said by me with a hitch of my eyebrows and the quiet resignation of a person who knows their kids and knows her friend. I don’t, of course, I don’t trust them. I don’t think I’ll ever completely trust another human being again after what he had done. This is what this is about: Scott has asked me – begged, actually – to talk. I do not want to talk. I want to forget this awful thing is happening, I want to skip to the future when we’ve dealt
with it; or I want to go back in time to the point where my marriage was so horrible that he had to look elsewhere and stop it from happening at all. I don’t know when that moment was. I can guess, I can imagine, I can think I feel it but I don’t know. I have no way at all to place the pad of my finger at that location on the map of my life and know that’s where it all started to fall apart.

‘I love you, see you tomorrow.’ I kiss Cora. ‘I love you, see you tomorrow.’ I kiss Anansy. ‘I love
you,
thank you and see you tomorrow.’ I smile at Beatrix. She offers me back concern and courage wrapped in a smile.

‘You’ll be all right,’ she mouths at me.

I nod, knowing I won’t be.

We haven’t spoken as we walk into town. Scott has been taking his laptop with him on the school run these past couple of days, looking like a packhorse with his workbag, his laptop bag and the girls’ bags hanging off him, so he can stay out of the way until the girls are home and he can have them as a barrier to me ignoring him. So he’d had to ring earlier to ask what sort of food I fancied while we talked. I’d hung up on him in reply.