The Vintage Teacup Club (22 page)

‘Honestly, I can’t tell you how sweet they were with each other. Holding hands the whole time – imagine that, in your eighties.’ Alison was sitting on the squidgy armchair in my living room, a big mug of tea in hand. ‘I mean sometimes I consider it a good day if I haven’t throttled Pete by the end of it.’

Maggie and I laughed. It was obvious that, despite what she said, Alison and Pete were pretty unshakeable. ‘They sound wonderful,’ Maggie said, and I nodded my agreement. ‘I suppose when you’ve lived through the things they have,’ she continued, ‘you’re far less likely to take each other for granted.’ Maggie was curled up on my chequered sofa, while I was sitting
on the wicker chair next to it.

‘They didn’t waste any time starting a family when Derek came home,’ Alison said. ‘And they really have been through thick and thin since. Some of the things they said were a good reminder about waiting out the bad times as a team.’

‘It’s funny how easy it is to forget that, isn’t it?’ I said. That morning I’d filled Maggie and Alison in on my mum’s reappearance, given them the short version of her leaving and told them what a relief it was to finally let all those feelings spill out talking to Dan. ‘I think it’s great that we know a bit of our teaset’s happy history,’ I said. ‘It makes me even more fond of it. If that were possible.’

Dan popped his head around the door. ‘Right, ladies, I’m going to leave you to it. I’m off out to the pub with Russ. I’ll see you later, Jen.’ He came closer to give me a kiss goodbye, his warm mouth on mine, and the women gave dramatic sighs.

‘Ahh, young love,’ said Alison. Dan gave her a little wink.

‘He really is a
dish
,’ Maggie said, as soon as he’d gone back out the door. ‘Hang onto him, Jen.’

‘Why, thank you,’ I said, laughing. ‘I do quite like him, if I’m honest.’

‘Talking of tying the knot …’ I continued. ‘My errant mum aside, there are two women who I definitely want to see there on my big day. And I hope
they don’t mind me scrimping on postage.’

I stood up and pulled out two card invites from of the drawer of our wooden bureau. ‘Ta-da!’ I said as I passed one each to Alison and Maggie.

They’d turned out pretty nicely in the end; the paper was high quality stock – Chloe had used her feminine wiles on the magazine printers and had got a discount – and I’d added a line drawing of a 1940s tea party, with a table piled high with cake and pork pies, and me and Dan behind it all, peeking over. Chris had chosen an elegant wartime font and it fit the look perfectly, making the whole thing look like a illustration plate from one of my favourite old children’s books.

‘I hope you can come and witness the teaset’s debut performance,’ I said, excitedly. Handing out the invites really made the wedding feel real.

‘These are perfect,’ said Alison, looking at the card in her hand. ‘Original and totally
you
.’

‘They really are gorgeous,’ Maggie added. ‘Just right. Who did the illustration for you?’

‘I did it, actually,’ I said, sounding more confident than I felt. This was the first time I’d shown my drawings to anyone since secondary school. ‘I’ve always liked those black and white line drawings so I thought I’d have a go myself.’

‘They’re wonderful,’ Alison said, nodding her approval. ‘And you and Dan there too, just a few
simple lines but, yes, without a doubt it’s you.’

‘Aw,’ I said, waving the compliment away, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. ‘Thank you. But more importantly, do you think you can make it?’

‘August the second – yes, definitely,’ Alison said. ‘Pete and I are doing without a holiday this year – long story … but the upside is we’ll definitely be free.’

‘Great,’ I said, leaning round to look at her invite. ‘It should say Pete’s name on there too, does it? I put Dan in charge of writing them out, and while I’m a hundred per cent sure of his abilities …’

‘Yes, it’s here. He’ll be pleased. It’s been a while since we had a wedding to go to. All our friends married ages ago, or decided not to, and God help us, we’ve even started getting invited to divorce parties.’ Alison laughed, but looked round at Maggie, realising her faux pas. ‘Sorry Maggie, that was a stupid thing to say, I didn’t mean …’

‘No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,’ Maggie said, laughing it off. ‘Unconventional set-up it might be – kicking off a new romance with a divorce, there’s no hiding that – but actually things are going pretty well with Dylan.’

‘You can give me that back, then,’ I said, taking the invite out of her hands.

‘Whaaat?’ she protested.

I got out my fountain pen and wrote Dylan’s name carefully next to hers, with a little wobbly ‘&’ before it.

‘There you go.’ I passed it back and when she saw
it she smiled.

‘It’s nice to have another name attached.’

She reached for one of the pistachio cupcakes I’d put out on a commemorative jubilee plate and began to peel off the paper, absent-mindedly.

‘How’s it going with finding time to see each other?’ I asked. ‘I mean you with Bluebelle, and him and his photography – you must both be pretty busy.’

‘I know, it’s true, but the way things are going I don’t think that’s going to be too much of a problem.’

‘Oh yes?’ I said, curious. ‘Why’s that?’

‘He’s just moved in.’

Alison looked up from her diary, where she’d been doodling around the wedding date she’d penned into a fairly empty-looking month.

‘Really?’ she gawped.

‘Yes,’ Maggie said, giving nothing away.

‘But it’s only been a couple of weeks!’ Alison said.

Maggie shrugged, ‘We already know each other, and neither of us could see the point of waiting around. A bit like your friends Ruby and Derek, I suppose.’

‘He really must be a great lay,’ Alison said, giving Maggie a smile.

‘And you do look happy,’ I said, taking in the brightness of her eyes, the way they lit up when she talked about Dylan. ‘Have you told your mum and sister yet?’

‘I told Mum, yes, and she’s thrilled. It’s strange really, she saw me through all of the heartbreak
of the divorce, the teary days, the restless nights, the endless dramas – and yet she never really ruled Dylan out. For some reason she couldn’t be angry with him, even when I was. She’d liked him from the start and she wanted more than anything for us to find a way to patch things up. I guess my mum was right all along.’

Half an hour later, Maggie had left to go back to the shop and I was flicking through my iPod for a new album to put on.

‘You don’t mind me hanging around, do you, Jen?’ Alison asked, from her spot lounging on the sofa.

‘Of course not,’ I said, ‘it’s a pleasure to have your company.’ As it happened, it was also a nice excuse to put off doing the pile of laundry that was threatening to take over our bedroom.

Alison picked up her wedding invite again and idly ran a finger over the raised text.

‘I can’t wait to have a boogie with you at the wedding, Jen,’ she said. ‘Although let’s pray Pete doesn’t make an exception and get up on the dancefloor too.’

‘Really?’ I said. Dan had two left feet, but I’d always assumed Pete was a good dancer, I suppose because I knew he was musical.

‘Oh yes,’ Alison said. ‘Total catastrophe on the dancefloor. I didn’t cultivate a gay best friend for nothing – it was pretty much my only chance
of swing-dance survival.’ Alison’s finger strayed onto the image. ‘I really do like your drawing,’ she said. ‘Have you done anything else I could see?’

I looked over from where I was standing, ‘Well,’ I said, feeling a little self-conscious, ‘what sort of thing do you mean?’

‘It’s this new café Jamie is setting up – he’s going to have room for some pictures on the walls too, a space for mini exhibitions, and he wants local artists to be a part of it. Well that, and I’m just nosy, too.’

A picture from my children’s book popped into my head. I hadn’t shown my little project to anyone yet. ‘I do have something I could show you,’ I said after a pause, feeling more excited about the idea now. ‘I mean, it’s not suitable for the café, but if you really are interested?’

Alison sat up in her seat, a smile on her face. ‘Of course I am, go on, get to it,’ she said, clapping her hands twice, sending me on my way.

I went to my room and came back a minute or two later with the card box that contained
Charlie, Carlitos and Me
. After talking things through with Dan the other day, my head had felt clearer and I’d restarted work on the book, finishing some of the pictures and deciding on an ending I was happy with. When I’d brought the box home from Dad’s, Dan had been curious, but I’d told him it was a wedding-related surprise and he shouldn’t start nosing about, and I think it had stopped him
snooping. I brought it over to the coffee table and, sitting down on the carpet, opened it and took out the pages to show Alison.

‘I’ve been working on this for a little while now. It’s a children’s book.’ Alison’s eyes lit up and she held the first page in her hands as if it were something precious. ‘I started it a few years ago,’ I said, ‘then put it away for a while. When I found it at my dad’s a few weeks ago I decided to work up the illustrations properly. It’s almost finished now.’

Alison went through the pages one by one, taking in the story, and occasionally letting out a hearty laugh. ‘Holly would have adored this when she was little,’ she said, looking up and smiling. It was strange to be sharing something that I’d kept to myself for so long, and my stomach felt tight. As she reached the final page she put the pages back with a satisfied sigh. ‘I
knew
Carlitos would manage to bring all of the Peludo family over in the end,’ she said, as if she still had one foot in the Andes herself. ‘Jen, it’s terrific,’ she said, without hesitation. ‘I love the story – and the illustrations are beautiful. First the invite, now this – why’ve you been hiding your talent all this time?’

I breathed a sigh or relief. It felt like all the work had been worth it.

‘I hope I’m not the only person you’re planning on showing this to,’ Alison said. I hadn’t really thought any further than just getting
it finished.

‘I guess,’ I said, mulling it over. ‘I could show it to Dan when he gets back. And maybe Dad, he’s always liked my drawings.’

Alison was shaking her head, ‘I don’t mean like that, Jenny. I mean, if you want to show it to them you definitely should, but you should let some children’s publishers take a look at this too.’

‘Are you serious?’ I said.

‘Yes, Jen. Never more so.’ Alison’s eyes lit up as she remembered something. ‘An old friend of mine, JoJo, works for a small press in London, actually. I haven’t seen her for years, but last time we spoke she said they were looking out for new writers and illustrators for their list. I’ve been meaning to catch up with her anyway, why don’t I set up a lunch and take this along with me?’

‘Ali, that’s really generous of you,’ I said, putting the lid back on the box. ‘But I’m not sure I’m ready to share it with anyone else yet.’ The knock of my mum reappearing from nowhere, shaking things up, had thrown my confidence
somehow. Anyway, I’d really only done this for fun.

‘I’m not being generous,’ Alison said, with a warm laugh. ‘And the thing is, I’m not sure I’m going to take no for an answer.’

‘Ninety-five pounds!’ Holly said proudly, holding up her pink notepad. ‘Plus the three weeks’ pocket money I’ve given you back. Am I nearly there?’

Holly was saving hard to pay her parents back after they’d bailed her out of the spree on Chrissy’s mum’s credit card. It had only been a few days since Alison had gathered her family together and discussed how they could rein in their spending, but, surprisingly, both girls had really taken up the challenge.

At Jenny’s flat the other day, after they’d looked at her children’s book, Alison and Jenny had cracked open the wine, and after a glass or two Jenny had finally got the truth out of her about the financial mess
she was in. ‘I just don’t know where to start,’ Alison had confessed, putting her Malbec on the coffee table. ‘I’m blaming Pete for this, but the truth is I don’t know where to begin fixing it myself.’

Jenny hadn’t wasted any time thinking of practical tips to help her get back on top of things, and that evening had emailed over some budget outlines Jenny had used in the past to help her dad keep his finances in check. Alison’s panic had settled into a more comfortable acceptance of the fact things were going to have to change. ‘Little things can really make a difference,’ Jenny had reassured her.

‘That’s fantastic, Holly,’ Alison said, looking at her daughter over the kitchen table. ‘How did you manage to make that?’

‘I sent a Facebook message around my friends asking if any of them wanted to buy the clothes I’d bought with Chrissy at half the price. Loads of people responded – I mean it was all brand new stuff, nice things.’

Pete widened his eyes at his wife, impressed.

Alison couldn’t put her finger on when it had happened, but at some point over the last few days, the distance between her and Pete had begun to close. Meeting the Spencers had reminded her of something – marriage worked, when you worked at it. She and Pete had taken tentative steps towards one another again and with a touch here, the offer of a cup of tea
there, the lines of communications had started to open up again. Both of them had accepted that their difficulties couldn’t be glossed over. They’d reluctantly agreed that, in the short term, they would need to ask Alison’s brother Clive for some help. He’d been happy to offer them a loan.