‘I have no idea … Um, that’s actually a lie, I know why I’m laughing …’ I hesitate.
‘Go on.’ Sam nods, swilling her drink around inside the glass.
‘Relief, I guess. A bit. That we’re here, talking, sort of … I thought I had lost you … you know, when I was away and, well, it’s never been like that between us, has it? And I know I messed up, but we’ve always been so close. I’m really, really sorry.’ I look away.
‘Me too,’ Sam says, quietly.
‘You have nothing to be sorry about – I was the one who buggered off when you needed me most; I should never have done that.’
‘And I shut you out. I should never have done that either.’ We sit in silence; it’s me who breaks it.
‘What’s going on, Sam? Well, I know a lot has gone on, with Christy turning up and stuff, but what I mean is … something has changed, and it changed a while ago. You’re …’ I pause to choose my words carefully; I don’t want to upset her even more. ‘Not like your old self.’
‘Oh Georgie, how long have you got?’ she sighs, wearily.
‘All night! And longer, if that’s what it takes.’ I give her hand a squeeze.
*
Sam lets out a long breath. She’s told me all about it. How she always thought she knew what she wanted, how being a mother with lots of children was her destiny, to have a big family, something she never had as a child and always dreamed of, to be a part of something, to be the perfect mum, the mum she never had … or so she had imagined. Only it didn’t turn out that way. And it changed everything – what she had always believed turned out to be something entirely different.
‘Oh Sam! I thought you were blissfully happy. OK, I knew you were tired, but aren’t all new parents? I had no idea, I’m so sorry … Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘For a while I was in denial, I guess. I tried to ignore it, hoping the feeling would go away. And then, we seemed to be going in different directions – our worlds seemed so far apart. How could I? You were loved up with Tom while I was crying from sleep deprivation at four in the morning. And then when you cleared off and didn’t look back …’ I feel my cheeks flush, but quickly decide to keep quiet, knowing that what she’s saying is true. I did leave her when she needed me, but not on purpose … It just sort of panned out that way; but still, I didn’t hesitate in going, and for that I’ll always feel bad. Not for actually going, but for going when I did. The timing couldn’t have been any worse. ‘It made me feel that you were taking everything for granted, everything you have here in Mulberry-On-Sea, including me – like it wasn’t enough. And somehow that made me feel insignificant. Like I wasn’t important to you …’
‘But Sam, you’re the most important person in the world to me – you, Dad and Nancy, and Tom. You’re everything. You’re my family.’
‘But you were having the time of your life in New York, sending me selfies from rooftops with breathtaking views, while I was stuck here with two babies, feeling inadequate and frustrated because I’ve always been in control, been good at stuff, felt important I guess … and that had all gone. I was muddling through, making it all up as I went along – babies don’t come with a manual, and for the first time in my life, I had no blooming idea what I was supposed to be doing. And part of me was jealous, too. I wanted to be having the time of my life in New York, not be scraping poo off my beautiful kitchen counters because one of the twins had ripped her nappy off and decided to lasso it around the joint. And that in turn made me feel as if I was failing all the time.’
‘Oh God, Sam, I didn’t realise. I had no idea. And there was me wishing you were there with me. I didn’t stop to think how you were feeling … Or just how impractical the notion was, I understand now – you can’t just pack a suitcase and jet off … your life is different now.’
‘Please, it’s not your fault. Like I said, it’s my fault. That part of it started way before you went away – the feeling of not being a good enough mother, and then when I saw the mums in the café, seemingly perfect, doting over and all-consumed by their babies, discussing the virtues of blending up purple broccoli over sprouting broccoli – broccoli is broccoli, for crying out loud!’ She lets out a long breath. ‘But deep down, I felt guilty, because it doesn’t interest me – and it just got worse when you went away. My only outlet, besides baby talk, had gone, and that’s why I couldn’t talk to you on the phone. I was cross and confused – I just wanted my old life back; the one where we laughed together and gossiped, and basically had a good time … Does that make me a bad mother?’
‘I don’t think so. Do you feel the same way now? Because, if you do, then I’m here now, I’ll help you in whichever way I can … We’ll go out, we’ll do spa days again and go shopping, clubbing, have lunch at the swanky bistro, just like we used to. We could even do stuff together, you, me and the twins – the cinema or one of those soft play centres.’ Sam grimaces. ‘OK, maybe not that … but I’ll babysit them, so you and Nathan can have time together. How about that? I’ll set aside a weekend once a month, it’ll be my way of making it up to you.’ And the minute the words are out of my mouth, I feel even more terrible – like the worst person on earth – because I made that promise once before and didn’t follow it through. But I will now, I definitely will. Things have changed for me too – going away, ruining Tom’s surprise, and then Dad being ill; it’s all just made me realise what I really want, what’s most important, and it’s the people closest to me. That’s what matters.
‘It’s all right,’ Sam says, graciously. ‘Not sure I’d want to babysit a pair of teething toddlers unless I really, really had to. It’s hard work, and I realise now that I’m just not the earth mother I always thought I would be. Baking is my passion, not eco nappies and broccoli blending! Don’t get me wrong, I love the twins, I adore them with every fibre of my being, I really do. But I’m just not cut out for childcare – I get bored. No, that’s a lie; I don’t just get bored. I get scared. Scared of what I might do.’ Sam pauses and finishes the last of her Pimm’s.
‘Go on,’ I say gently.
‘Oh, please don’t look so worried, it’s not so bad now.’ She manages a wry smile before lifting the jug to pour us both another drink.
‘So what’s changed then?’
‘Talking to Christy. My own mother, the one who ran away when I was a child! Because, Georgie, since having the girls,’ she pauses to take a deep breath, ‘I’ve felt exactly the same way on occasion. I’ve wanted to run away. Hell, one night I even packed a suitcase and drove off for a few hours or so along the coast, leaving Nathan on his own wondering what was going on – it was the night before the nanny interviews and I had convinced myself employing a nanny meant that I was a rubbish mother. A failure.’ Oh God, it all makes sense now. No wonder there was tension between Sam and Nathan on that day. No wonder Sam was hypercritical of the candidates, convinced one of them had bruised Ivy’s little cheek – she was feeling vulnerable and inadequate. ‘And that really scared me … because I could so easily have jumped on a plane and gone far, far away.’
‘But you didn’t. You came back, and that’s the difference.’ My mobile rings. I ignore it. This is important. Very important. And if it’s Tom calling, I’m sure he’ll understand when I explain later. But right now, I have to be here for Sam. ‘I’m so sorry for disappearing when Christy turned up out of the blue like that,’ I continue, unsure of what else to say.
‘Don’t be. I should have told you,’ Sam says.
‘What do you mean?’ I crease my forehead.
‘I asked her to come!’
Whaaaat? I had no idea.
‘But how? When?’
And why didn’t you tell me?
Is what pops into my head. But I quickly figure this isn’t about me – it’s like Dad said, we never really know what is going on in someone else’s life.
‘Well, I had been pondering on it for some time. Being pregnant made me think a lot about my own childhood, which naturally led on to Christy and how she could have left me. Anyway, I got a private investigator to track her down,’ Sam says calmly, and I feel terrible that she went through all this without telling me. She senses how I feel and adds, ‘Nathan didn’t know either … it was something I just had to do on my own. I was worried that if you or he were involved, got to know her, then she’d have a connection, a hold if you like, a way to reach me later, if I didn’t like her or want her in my life after all.’
‘It’s OK,’ I say softly. ‘The most important thing is – how do you feel now?’
‘It’s strange, but Christy and I get on really well. I don’t hate her, or feel any resentment. We’ve talked so much and she’s been really honest with me. She says she tried really hard too, to be a good mother, but felt inadequate. She says at the time, all those years ago, she thought I’d be better off without her, which is why she went.’ Sam stops talking and we sit together in silence for a while, just sharing unspoken thoughts.
‘Oh Sam …’ It’s me who eventually speaks.
‘It’s OK. I was in a bad place but I did something about it. I made changes; I got some help, at home and at work. It’s all good now. Promise.’ She grins.
‘You got a nanny?’
‘A manny! He’s called Benedict, or Ben, as he prefers …’
‘Mmm, well, that’s a bonus,’ I say, as an image of Benedict Cumberbatch instantly springs to mind.
‘Ha! I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not ashamed to say that my interest was definitely piqued when the agency called to “talk about Benedict”. They had another manny too, but he was called Malcolm …’ She pauses, and we both pull a face before going, ‘Naaaaaahhhhh,’ like a pair of silly schoolgirls. And it feels brilliant to be sharing a joke with Sam again. I’ve missed her so much. And the relief that we’ve managed to find a way forward is overwhelming, but then we have been friends since childhood, and friendships like ours don’t crumble and disintegrate that easily, I know that now. It’s like a marriage in a way, through good times and bad, we have to work at it …
‘Sounds as if things are sorting themselves out then?’ I say.
‘Yep. I feel so much better now. It’s as if I can breathe again, especially now we’ve had this conversation – a part of me hated not sharing it with you. You’re my best friend – no, scrap that, you’re like a sister, the family I never had.’
‘Ah, well, I think you’re amazing. And that’s why I love you.’ I put my arm around her and she rests her head on my shoulder.
‘I love you too, Georgie.’ I squeeze her tight with my free arm. ‘You know, I also feel as if a huge burden has been lifted off me now, that it wasn’t my fault Christy left – you know how I worried as a child.’
‘I remember.’ The Haribo Strawbs. The stories of princesses in castles. I remember it all.
‘Christy said that at first she chased after the glitz, the glamour of LA as a way to block everything out, but soon regretted leaving. The problem was, it then became too late – she didn’t know how to come back.’
‘But she’s here now.’
‘Yes. And plans on staying. She’s making a real effort. It’s made me realise that not everyone is perfect but, as long as we try, then that’s all right!’
I nod. I couldn’t agree more …
T
he following morning, I wake up to the sound of my mobile vibrating across the nightstand, but before I can answer, it rings off. And it wasn’t Tom calling me last night – it was a number I didn’t recognise and there was no message. Then, when Sam and I had finished talking, we went for a walk along the beach, so it was after midnight when I fell into bed – too late to try calling Tom again.
My mobile rings again. Ah, maybe it’s him. My heart lifts. Oh. My heart sinks. It’s another number I don’t recognise. I quickly answer, guessing it must be something to do with the regatta that starts in … I glance at the clock, about two hours. OK, at least I won’t have to run into town today. Phew.
‘Georgie! My dear, how are you?’ Gulp. It’s Isabella. I fling myself into a sitting position. I’d recognise her breathy Italian voice anywhere. But why is she calling me? On my mobile! I didn’t even know she had my number. Oh God, here we go, I bet she’s calling to have a word about the disaster that is the Carrington’s sponsored regatta. Eeeep!
‘Um, err, yes, I’m fine thank you.’ Silence follows. ‘And I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for any of it to happ—’ I start blabbering like an idiot, quickly figuring it best to get in there first before she berates me for ‘somehow managing to ruin it all’.
‘Let’s do lunch. Today!’ she cuts in, leaving me to wonder if she even heard what I said.
‘Oh, um, sure … That would be lovely,’ I fib, crossing my fingers and praying that by lunch she actually means at lunchtime – the music festival kicks off at 3 p.m. and I
must
be there to make sure everything runs smoothly for Dan. I can’t afford another disaster, certainly not with someone as high profile as him; that would be insane and bound to push Mr Dunwoody over the edge. But then I really don’t think Isabella is going to take no for an answer.
‘Good. We’ll dine on board. Do you remember where our berth is from the soirée?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Wonderful, see you at one.’ And she hangs up. Eeek, two hours, blimey – should be OK. I hope. At least the festival is right next to the marina, so not too far to run, again, if I have to. And then I realise … I forgot to ask if Tom was coming for lunch too. He’s bound to be, surely, isn’t he? And he must have calmed down by now as I can’t imagine he’d be OK with Isabella inviting me to lunch otherwise. Brilliant. Today is going to be so much better than yesterday. And I can’t wait to see him – to get everything sorted out. Sam and I are back on track now. I just need to talk to Tom and then things between us will be like they were before I went away too. Happy and totally loved up. I send him a text.
Looking forward to lunch later, can’t wait to see you xxx
*
The second day of the regatta gets off to a great start. I’ve just popped into Max’s gourmet food marquee and been shown how to roll a
temaki
by Mr Nakamura.
‘Mm-mmm. This is delicious,’ I say to Sam. She’s taking a break from selling cakes, while Stacey and the rest of the waitresses from the Cupcakes At Carrington’s café hold the fort. Nathan and Ben have taken the twins over to the face-painting tent and Christy has gone to view an apartment just along the coast in Brighton – seems she really is planning on sticking around this time.