One good thing, p.14
One Good Thing, page 14
A handy tip: while getting rid of extra grout down the sink or loo might look like the best option, Dyno-Rod assures me it is not.
Please use the sweeping brushes provided and don’t simply pick up the hose and flush everything into the guttering and drains.
Teabags: while I appreciate the technical skill involved in building a skyscraper that resembles London’s Walkie Talkie building, I would prefer to have a plughole that water can flow through freely.
Thank you.
But in the end I decide against giving it to them. After all, I’m trying to avoid falling out with them, aren’t I? And the first rule is probably not to give them a list of house-rules. So I buy them more biscuits instead.
I look at Ben now, leaning against a half-demolished wall in the bombsite that used to be my kitchen, a mug of tea in one hand and a chocolate digestive in the other. Of all the kitchens in all the world, he had to demolish mine.
‘How was the walk?’
I’ve just come in from walking Harry and am peeling off my waterproof layers. No surprise, it’s raining again. I feel slightly irritated by his presence. The walls of the entrance hallway have been knocked down, so the moment you come through the front door you walk straight into a building site. And Ben, who seems to be constantly on a tea break.
‘Wet,’ I grumble, trying to grab Harry and dry him off before he shakes everywhere. Not that it would make much of a difference, considering the mess. ‘How’s the tea?’
‘Wet,’ he says, putting down his mug and handing me a towel from the hook in the corner.
‘Thank you.’ I smile gratefully and feel guilty for being grumpy. Crouching down, I begin drying off Harry.
‘Oh, by the way, I believe this is yours.’
I look up to see Ben pulling something out of his pocket. It’s a green tennis ball, although less green and more muddy-coloured.
‘Well, Harry’s.’
I frown. ‘Where did you find that?’
‘The snowman didn’t have much use for it any more.’ He raises his eyebrows, a faint air of amusement playing on his lips. ‘Stanley thought Harry might want it back.’
I look at him in surprise. ‘You know Stanley?’
‘I’m his dad.’
‘Stanley’s your son?’
‘Well, that’s how it usually works.’
I colour.
‘Stanley has been talking about it being Harry’s ball, and I finally put two and two together. Took me a while. Like I said, I didn’t get your brains.’ Ben grins and I smile, though mostly out of embarrassment.
‘We see him on our walks . . . I didn’t realize that was your house.’
‘Well, no – you never wanted to go for that catch-up, did you?’
Reminded, I shift awkwardly.
‘He’s a lovely little boy,’ I say, changing the subject.
‘Thanks.’ He gives a small nod of pride. ‘He loves Harry – Stanley talks about him all the time.’
‘The feeling’s mutual. Harry loves him. They hit it off right away.’
Ben smiles. ‘Stanley seems to find it easier to connect with animals than with humans. We did think about getting a dog after . . . well, everything, but it’s a lot and I’m out at work all day.’
‘Stanley can come on a walk with me if he likes. Have a play-date.’
‘Thanks, but Stanley doesn’t do play-dates.’
‘Not even with his friends?’
Ben sighs and looks down at his mug of tea. His hands are covered in dust and dirt and he rubs his wedding band with his thumb, making the gold shine. ‘Well, that’s the thing: he doesn’t have any friends.’
There’s a beat and he falls silent. I can see this is difficult for him. I can hear the other builders banging and clattering, erecting the scaffolding that’s going up to the roof, but inside the house there’s a stillness.
‘Kids at school think he’s strange. Stanley’s special – he has his little ways. When he was born we could tell he was different from other friends’ babies; his speech was delayed, and he would get fixated by things . . . I remember him sitting for hours watching the garage door open and close, like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.’
As Ben breaks off, remembering, I suddenly see him in a totally different light. Beneath the tattoos and swagger and the cheerful banter, there’s a vulnerability and seriousness; he’s a concerned father who loves his son.
‘It was actually a bit of a relief when he was finally diagnosed. Being on the autism spectrum, that’s what the doctors call it. It helped us understand why change makes him anxious, why he likes everything a certain way.’
‘He showed me his list,’ I nod, and Ben smiles.
‘He likes lists – they make him feel safe. It’s the routine. He likes everything to be in order.’
‘I’m with Stanley on that one.’ I pull a face at the mess of the kitchen. It makes Ben laugh, and I feel pleased to be able to lighten his mood.
‘He’s a brilliant little boy and he’s been through such a lot. He’s just different, that’s all; and the other kids don’t like different, at that age.’
‘Well, if there’s anything I can do to help . . .’
‘Thanks.’
I gesture towards Harry, who’s pounced on the ball and is now chewing it enthusiastically, trying to rip off the green furry coating.
‘Don’t tell Stanley that Harry ate his snowman’s nose.’
‘I won’t.’ Ben smiles and shrugs. ‘Anyway, I’d best get on.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ I pick up the towel. ‘I’ve got my friend and her daughter coming up from London to stay at the weekend and I’ve so much to do. I haven’t sorted out the spare bedroom, so I’ve no idea where they’re going to sleep.’
‘Well, I might be able to help you with that.’
I look at him with interest. ‘Really?’
Ben pulls out his phone. ‘Hang on, let me make a call.’
The Castle
‘Oh, Liv, this is wonderful!’
Naomi and Ellie have just arrived and are standing hand-in-hand in a patch of dappled sunlight in my back garden, surveying the large white bell-tent strung with candy-coloured bunting and lanterns that has been erected underneath the giant sycamore tree, which has seemingly burst into leaf overnight.
She turns to me, her face a mix of delight and astonishment. ‘How did you do it all by yourself?’
‘Well, I had some help,’ I admit, pleased by her reaction.
In truth, I had a lot of help. It was all Ben’s idea. His friend has a company that provides bell-tents for local festivals. At first I hadn’t been sure at all. A tent? In this weather? But Ben had been convincing; it always rained at festivals and these tents were waterproof, plus – by some divine miracle – they’d forecast good weather for Easter.
‘And let’s be frank: where else are your friends going to sleep?’ he’d asked, eyebrows raised, looking at all the junk piled up in the back bedroom. ‘In your mouldy bathroom?’
The tent had arrived yesterday, and Ben and his builders downed tools and spent all day in the garden putting it up – luckily the garden’s quite big, so we could position it far away from the cement mixer, which didn’t quite go with the festival vibe. And Ben was right. By lunchtime the drizzle had stopped and, as if by magic, the sullen grey skies disappeared and the sun made its entrance like a long-lost friend, bathing everything in sunlight and drying up my sodden lawn.
‘What do you think, Ellie?’
Seven-year-old Ellie, who’s normally a chatterbox, has suddenly gone all shy on arrival and is clutching her mother’s hand.
‘It’s like being in a circus,’ she says, breaking into a grin. Unable to resist any longer, she lets go of Naomi’s hand to run across the garden. We follow her, stepping over the tent posts and lifting up the front flap. Inside, it’s not just a tent, but something far more impressive, with a proper floor, patterned rugs, and duvets and pillows.
And Harry, who’s already made himself at home on one of the rugs.
Ellie’s face lights up as soon as she sees him. They only met a few minutes ago when Harry greeted them at the gate, his tail wagging furiously – as if now that he’s discovered how great it feels, he can’t stop. Naomi grins and throws her arms around me in a hug.
‘I love this place!’
‘Really? I wasn’t sure . . . I know you’re such a city girl.’
‘Are you kidding me? All this space and fresh air! And the scenery on the way here on the train was amazing. It’s no wonder they call it God’s own country.’
I feel a sudden burst of pride. That’s how I feel when I’m walking Harry and I look out over the Dales, but hearing someone else say it about my new home gives me a real feeling of gratification
‘I mean, look at this garden.’ Naomi has already stepped outside the tent and is stomping around the garden in her Birkenstocks. ‘It’s about twenty times the size of my tiny one in London.’
‘And about twenty times more overgrown,’ I point out, my pride quickly vanishing and being replaced by embarrassment at the state of my patchy lawn and wild tangle of plants and trees. I’d imagined moving here and creating this beautiful cottage garden, but in truth I can barely keep a houseplant alive. ‘I haven’t got a clue where to start.’
‘I can help you while I’m here, if you want. It just needs a bit of a tidy-up. We can cut back some of those bushes and clear those brambles. You’ve got some real hidden gems sprouting . . . Look at those gorgeous clumps of primroses and crocus under those crab-apple trees.’ She flings her arms around, pointing at things and making the stacks of bangles on her wrist jingle. ‘That’s a camellia . . . those are rambling roses and jasmine – lucky you, their scent will be incredible when they bloom . . . This is a gorgeous honeysuckle.’
I listen to her in astonishment as she lists plants like an encyclopaedia. I knew Naomi had green fingers, but I didn’t realize she was this much of an expert.
‘Since when did you turn into Monty Don?’ I ask, and she laughs and points to the broken-down shed tucked away at the bottom of the garden.
‘What’s in there?’
‘To be honest, I don’t know,’ I confess.
‘You don’t know?’ Naomi turns to me, incredulous.
‘Well, I did have a bit of peer in the window when I first moved in, but it looked like a load of old junk and garden tools, and there was this huge spider – you should’ve seen the size of it.’ I give a shudder. ‘It’s on my list,’ I add sheepishly.
Pushing her sunglasses onto her forehead, Naomi puts her hands on her tiny hips. ‘Well, we’d better get cracking on that list while I’m here then, hadn’t we?’
‘Don’t be silly – you’re a guest,’ I begin to protest, but she bats away my objections.
‘It’ll be good to keep myself busy, take my mind off things.’ She glances towards Ellie who’s now playing on the grass, making sure she’s out of earshot. ‘I’ve had a big fight with Danny.’
‘Why? What happened?’ I feel a beat of concern.
‘Mummy, can we go to the castle?’ Ellie runs over.
Naomi shoots me an apologetic look, ‘Sorry,’ she hisses, ‘I told her there was one near here, and it’s all she’s been talking about on the way up. I did try to explain it wouldn’t be like Arandelle Castle.’
At the mention of the castle, my memory flicks back to me and my sister as children, playing hide-and-seek in its ramparts. It catches me off-balance.
‘Frozen,’ she adds, mistaking my expression for confusion.
‘It’s fine,’ I say quickly, as much as for my own benefit as hers. ‘Let’s go. It’ll be fun.’
After checking with Valentine that it’s OK to drop Harry over at his house, I drive us all to Raven Castle in my new car. I bought it a few days ago, after getting more replies to my tutoring ad. I’ve now gained three more pupils, all doing their eleven-plus, all living in nearby villages, and with transport links not being like those in London, I need the car to get around.
That said, the Trade Descriptions Act might take issue with the words ‘new’ and ‘car’. After my experience with the rental car, I needed to be able to see over the drystone walls and have seats that I could wipe down easily, but after several weeks of searching fruitlessly for cars online, I was beginning to think I was never going to be able to afford anything suitable.
That was until I bumped into the local farmer at the weekend. I’d actually been taking photos of the trough that he used for his cows – a rusty old claw-foot bath – in order to show Ben what I had in mind for my bathroom, when he drove by in an old Land Rover with a ‘For sale’ sign taped on the window. Apparently he’d just bought it for his wife, but she was having none of it, having set her heart on ‘one of those newfangled electric cars’.
Which is why, after offering me it for a price I couldn’t turn down, his wife is now the proud owner of a sporty red Honda Jazz and I’m rattling along the country lanes behind the wheel of an ancient olive-green Land Rover Defender, with Naomi next to me and Ellie on the back seat; she’s insisted on wearing her glittery blue Princess Elsa dress and bringing her wand, complete with its mini snow-globe on top.
‘Because I might need it to cast magic spells,’ she says gravely, bouncing up and down in the child safety seat that I found being offered for sale in the post-office window.
‘I wish adults got to carry wands,’ I confide as we pass over the eighteenth-century packhorse bridge, silently saying my prayers that we don’t meet anyone coming the other way.
‘We get iPhones instead,’ remarks Naomi.
‘They’re not quite as magical, though, are they?’
As we climb higher, the blue skies widen and sun streams in through the windscreen. I roll down the windows, letting in the fresh air.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ says Naomi, ‘one of the filters makes me look about twenty years younger. I’d call that pretty bloody magical.’
‘Mummy swore!’ giggles Ellie.
Which makes us all laugh as, hair blowing around our faces and hands surfing the warm winds, we continue towards the top of the world.
Perched at the top of the hill, and more than a thousand years old, Raven Castle might not look like something out of Disney movie, but with its huge turrets and drawbridge, it’s still almost as impressive. Ellie doesn’t look disappointed, either. With our tickets in our hands, I watch her – wide-eyed with wonder as she charges ahead through the turnstiles – remembering my own and Josie’s reactions when we first came here. I couldn’t believe the castle was real.
‘So Danny wants us to move in together,’ says Naomi as we follow Ellie into the Tudor courtyard; it’s exactly the same as I remember it.
‘That’s great,’ I react, as one does to good news, then sense something’s wrong. ‘Isn’t it?’
She sighs, then bites her lip and frowns. ‘I don’t know.’
‘But you said you wanted him to show more commitment.’
‘I do. I did. It’s just . . .’
Normally so articulate, she breaks off and shoves her hands deep in the pockets of her dungarees, as if she might find the right words in there.
‘So what did you say?’
‘I said I wasn’t sure; that I had Ellie to consider and it was a big step . . . Of course Danny completely took it the wrong way and saw it as a rejection, and it turned into this great big row.’
We climb the stone steps that lead into the grand dining hall. A huge barrel-vaulted roof soars above us like a cathedral. We crick our necks and gaze upwards.
‘Mummy, look!’ Ellie points to two members of staff dressed in suits of armour. Several children are gathered around, as they do some kind of show-and-tell. We walk over to join them.
‘Are you rejecting him?’ I keep my voice low.
‘No!’ Naomi hisses.
Barely able to contain herself with excitement, Ellie pushes her way to the front. We stand with the rest of the adults and watch the poor souls sweating in their heavy costumes as they re-enact one of the sieges.
But I can’t have looked convinced by Naomi’s denial, as a few moments later she leans in. ‘Danny said I didn’t let him in. And OK, I admit there’s probably some truth in that,’ she confesses, looking guilty. ‘But I’ve done everything by myself for so long. It was always just me; and then it was me and Ellie. I’ve had to be independent, to not need anyone, to put up the barriers and go it alone.’
‘But you’re not alone any more.’
‘I know. But in my head, I don’t know how not to be.’
She turns to me with an anguished expression and I look at my wise, brave friend and think how hard relationships can be to navigate as we get older. Not only the ones we have with our partners; but the ones we have with our friends and parents and siblings. Or is it us that makes them harder, with our layers of stuff that we accumulate? Like old clothes that we haven’t worn for years and no longer have any use for, but which we drag around with us in heavy suitcases.
The boyfriend who dumped you, the dad who criticized you, the kids at school who bullied you, the mum who abandoned you – all the ghosts of our pasts. The memories. The traumas. The triggers. Those feelings weigh heavy, and we pack them away out of sight, but never truly out of mind; they’re always with us, wherever we go and whomever we meet. If only we could clear out those emotional suitcases, like we clear out our wardrobes. Get rid of all that stuff that doesn’t fit us any more. Make space for the exciting new things in the future.
‘Danny loves you,’ I say simply.
‘And I love him,’ she shrugs. ‘But I don’t know how to need someone without feeling needy.’
‘Talk to him.’
‘I’ve tried.’
‘Keep trying,’ I urge. ‘Maybe if David and I had talked more, instead of assuming we both knew what each other was thinking . . .’
Naomi’s face falls. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I’m being tactless. Going on about Danny.’
‘Don’t be silly. I want you to tell me. Though I’m not being very helpful.’
