I wasn’t sure what to say, so I just smiled. I was totally out of my depth, to be honest, never having been to a play area like this before. In any case, Olivia had hold of his hand and was yanking at his arm. “Again, Daddy! Again!”
Jaimie gave a kind of “What can you do?” shrug and allowed himself to be dragged away without so much as a sip of his coffee. I finished mine soon afterwards—it hadn’t been that hot to start with—then sat observing the people at the other tables. They were either couples or groups of mums. There was only one other woman on her own, and she had a baby asleep in a car seat next to her. She was bent over a book, one foot rocking the car seat every now and then. I wondered if this was the only chance she got to read and thought longingly of the book I’d bought to read on the train, which was in my travel bag in the car.
I didn’t like to be selfish, but sitting on my own at a white plastic table, with children’s shrieks reverberating off the walls of a converted barn, hadn’t exactly been what I’d anticipated for that morning. I didn’t know what I’d expected. Feeding the ducks, maybe? Or a tour of the impressive cathedral?
I scanned the colourful tubes to try and locate Jaimie again but spotted Emily instead.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked, coming over.
“Somewhere in there with Olivia,” I said, waving my hand at the slides and climbing frames. “Do you want your apple juice?”
I held it out to her, and she took it, using a straw to pierce the carton with well-practised ease, her eyes scanning the apparatus.
“Are you having fun?” I asked, but she was already running away, the empty juice carton abandoned on the table.
“Sorry,” said Jaimie when he finally joined me, grimacing at his cold coffee. “I don’t suppose you’re used to this.”
“Not really, no.”
He laughed. “Not at all, I’d say.”
“My friends who have kids haven’t quite reached this stage yet.”
“You mean they’ve got this extreme pleasure in front of them?” he said. “You do get used to it, though. I’m actually jealous this stuff wasn’t around when I was a kid.”
“Did you have to make do with making mud pies?” I teased, and he laughed.
“We climbed trees and made dens. Probably a whole lot more educational and healthy.” He leant across the table to kiss me. “Don’t worry, we’ll go outside soon.”
I didn’t feel confident that his idea of “soon” would match my own. “Actually, would you mind if I waited for you out there? I could do with getting some fresh air.”
“Sure. We’ll be about twenty minutes or so.”
“Okay, see you later.”
I took myself out to the petting zoo, where there were some very characterful black-and-white pygmy goats who were doing the usual goat thing of wreaking havoc, pressing very close to anyone holding one of the brown paper feed bags you could buy at reception and trying to make a bid for escape whenever anybody opened the gate to their enclosure. This was definitely more me. And I couldn’t wait for Emily and Olivia to get tired of the play area so I could share my enthusiasm with them.
When Jaimie and the girls finally arrived, I was sitting down in an enclosed seating area and stroking a copper-brown guinea pig. As soon as she saw me, Olivia ran over. “I want to stroke it. Let me stroke it!”
“Careful,” I said quickly. “You’ll scare her. Sit down here, that’s it. Here, Emily, you sit next to Olivia. Now I’ll pass this one to Olivia, and then I’ll get one for you, Emily. No, keep it flat on your lap, Olivia. That way, if it should fall or anything, it won’t break its back.”
“I told you Beth knows about animals, didn’t I, girls?” Jaimie said as I found a guinea pig for Emily, but neither Olivia nor Emily answered him. They were too entranced with their charges.
I smiled, watching them. Olivia’s curly head was bent over the guinea pig, and she giggled as it twitched its whiskers. “It’s trying to tickle me, Daddy!”
I moved on to look at Emily, who was very carefully, thoughtfully stroking the silky black fur of her own guinea pig. “Can we get guinea pigs, Daddy?” she asked, and I worriedly glanced over at Jaimie. Oh dear. What had I started?
But Jaimie only laughed. “We’ll see. Maybe next spring. If you’re both good, of course.”
The day got better after that. We ate our healthy picnic, then rewarded ourselves with ice cream. Afterwards, the girls played happily together on the outdoor play equipment. By then, it was time to go home. When we got there, Olivia flopped down in front of the TV, and Emily read her book while I sat and chatted to Jaimie as he cooked pizza and garlic bread for tea.
“Can we go to the station with you when you go home, Beth?” Olivia asked me when we were at the dining room table, her mouth full of pizza. “I like going to the station.”
Jaimie answered for me. “Sorry, sweet pea. You’ll be back at Mummy’s house by the time Beth goes home.”
Emily frowned. “We’re not going back to Mummy’s house till tomorrow,” she said.
“That’s right,” said Jaimie. “Beth’s going to stay the night. Well, two nights, actually.”
Olivia laughed. “Don’t be silly, Daddy,” she said. “We don’t have enough beds.”
Jaimie didn’t respond to this statement, meeting my eyes before distracting his daughter with talk of dessert. But Emily went very quiet, and I thought I saw her looking at me very suspiciously. So perhaps it was no great surprise that when Olivia marched into Jaimie’s bedroom the next morning and found me lying in bed next to her father, she announced very loudly, “My mummy sleeps there. You can’t sleep there! That’s my mummy’s bed!” And then she ran out to Emily’s room to wake her up, shouting at the top of her voice, “Beth’s sleeping in Mummy’s bed! Beth’s sleeping in Mummy’s bed!”
Although we did the things I’d imagined we’d do that day—feeding the ducks on the riverside, visiting the cathedral, playing in the garden—the day never completely recovered from that inauspicious start. Olivia seemed tired and cried at the smallest thing, while Emily was icily quiet to the point of rudeness.
“Emily hates me,” I whispered to Jaimie later in the kitchen.
He sighed. “She doesn’t hate you. She hates the situation she’s in, that’s all.”
It was a relief when it was time for them to return to Harriet’s, but it had been such a fraught day that both Jaimie and I felt poleaxed by it, so we sat holding hands in front of the TV like shipwreck victims, neither of us inclined to talk about how things had gone.
9
Who knows? If Jaimie hadn’t had to work the next weekend, and if that weekend hadn’t happened to coincide with Sylvia and Richard’s ruby wedding anniversary, then maybe we wouldn’t have repeated the whole me-meeting-the-girls experiment. And maybe, as a result, the course of our relationship would have run differently. But Jaimie did have to work, and I did go to the party.
Jaimie was meant to come with me. Even Giorgio, who was visiting Rosie from Rome for the weekend, was coming. I was meant to be going as Beth and Jaimie, not just Beth. I wasn’t meant to be facing Mark and Grace on my own again. But I couldn’t invent some excuse and cry off the way I might have for anybody else’s party. Because it wasn’t anybody else’s party. It was Richard and Sylvia’s party. So I donned my best red dress in honour of the ruby occasion, secured the peony plant I’d bought as a gift safely in the car so it wouldn’t topple over, and set off.