By the time I arrived at the common, the races had been run, the rosettes pinned on to chests and the picnics were in full swing.
There was the usual mêlée of parents, mostly mothers, with one or two progressive, unemployed or browbeaten fathers. An area of the common had been roped off. It contained a table on which flapped a white cloth held down by several silver cups. Their status came under the heading ‘reprieved’: the cups were the relic of an earlier era and there had been much solemn debate among the staff as to whether competitive races should be allowed.
It was hot and sunny, and children in blue shorts and T-shirts ran about like ants on speed. It took me two seconds to locate Rose in the crowd. She was sitting on a tartan rug with Felix, an open cool bag between them, and her full pink skirt was the colour of a flower. Eve was with another group, chatting to a friend. A similar tableau was repeated ad infinitum: tartan rugs, open cool bags from which crisps, cold pizza, fruit juice, and wine – to save the adults’ sanity – flowed.
Rose waved a cocktail sausage in the air, and said something to Felix, who laughed so hard that he fell back on the rug and kicked his legs in the air. He always threw himself backwards when I made a joke but I hadn’t seen him laugh like that for a long time.
‘Hello.’ I collapsed on to the rug beside them.
Rose was cool. ‘Hello, Minty. Lucas is over there.’ She pointed to a knot clustered round the PE teacher. ‘He did well.’
Felix thrust a sausage at me. ‘Careful.’ I bent to kiss him. He was hot and sweaty, and smelt of wine gums and orange juice, which was not particularly enticing but dearer to me than anything else I could think of. ‘How did you do?’ I whispered.
He pressed his mouth to my ear, and the roar of his breath assaulted my eardrum. ‘I came tenth, Mummy’
Rose gazed into the middle distance. A couple of teams were conducting an impromptu tug-of-war. ‘The boys kept asking where you were. Whatever it was, I hope it was worth it.’
‘I do too,’ I echoed fervently.
‘Really, really worth it,’ she repeated. ‘Lucas was… a little tearful. He won the egg-and-spoon.’
I knew what Rose was thinking. Hell bent on pursuing my career, I was prepared to sacrifice my sons’ happiness and welfare. ‘Oh, come on, Rose, you know as well as I do what happens in the office. You told me that whenever Sam and Poppy had a carol service or sports day or whatever, there was a last-minute panic or holdup at Vistemax, which made you late.’
Rose had always been fair. ‘True.’
I squinted to where Lucas was at the centre of the PE-teacher huddle. ‘What’s going on?’
‘A disputed second and third in the twenty-metre race.’ The implication was that I should know what was going on. ‘He was so hoping you’d turn up in time to see him run. They both were.’ She paused and said quietly, ‘But you were carrying on in your own sweet way, Minty.’
‘Sometimes you sound like Nathan,’ I remarked.
At that, she flinched and reflected for a moment. ‘But Nathan would have asked what could be more important than supporting your sons at sports day’ She shaded her eyes, watching Lucas. ‘At least, that was the sort of thing he said to me.’
‘Rose, I didn’t want to be late.’
Felix tilted back his head. ‘Are you talking about my daddy?’ He blinked his blue eyes. ‘Did Daddy run in races?’
‘I’m pretty sure he did, Felix.’ There was a proprietorial note in Rose’s voice – to which I objected. Lucas came running over, the windmill in full sail. He was grubby and happy. He brushed past without seeing me, and flung himself against Rose. ‘I was very fast.’
‘Yes, you were. Felix and I are hoarse from shouting.’ She placed a finger on the rosette pinned to his shirt.
‘Lukey,’ I said, feeling the flame of jealousy, ‘hello. Let me see your rosette.’
Rose looked up, and read my thoughts. She could almost have said, But you took Nathan. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and murmured to Lucas, ‘Have you said hello to Mummy?’
I clasped Lucas to me. I don’t know why I didn’t defend myself and explain to Rose why I had been late. There was no reason for me to defend Poppy, except perhaps a curious loyalty.
Rose stacked the plastic picnic plates and mugs. She swept up the crisps packets and stowed them in the cool bag. ‘Have you eaten? There’s a sandwich left.’
‘No, thank you.’ My voice shook.
Rose’s self-command was perfect. She dusted a shard of crisp from her finger. ‘Now that you’ve turned up, I think perhaps I should go.’ She picked up a canvas bag and hitched the handle over her shoulder.
A couple of yards away, a toddler was roaring for its mother, a posse of children were playing tag, darting between the spread rugs, and one of the teachers was telling off a sullen girl with scraggy plaits. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been at a sports day’ Rose pointed at the roaring toddler. ‘Presumably it has a mother. By the way…’ She hesitated. ‘Minty, I don’t know what you’d say to this, but Felix has been going on about a kitten. Would you allow me to get you one? I know a source.’
‘No,’ I said flatly. ‘No kittens. No cats.’
‘OΚ. It’s just that it might help Felix -’
‘Perhaps we shouldn’t repeat this,’ I said. ‘It’s too difficult. I’m sorry I ever involved you with the boys.’
‘How silly, Minty’ Suddenly an angry red patch appeared on Rose’s neck, and she was transformed from the cool creature of a moment ago to someone who was seriously angry. ‘It can’t do any harm and I’m interested in them. I like them.’
‘Even so, Rose.’
‘Nathan was right.’
‘And what was he right about? What did you both conclude during your cosy chats?’
Rose stared at me, and her features hardened into acute dislike. ‘Nothing.’ She hitched the strap of her bag further up her shoulder and walked away.
23
I worked late into the night on the resurrected Middle Age idea. ‘ If we accept that time is an artificial construct,’ I wrote in my notes, ‘then what matters is experience. Experience is what tempers us and helps us to carry our mistakes. It also helps us to understand that death, which is waiting, informs life.’
Was that correct? Did I believe it? As a theory it sounded good, and convincing, and the people to whom it applied were the cream of the earth: the rounded, complete, mature personalities. It would be nice to think that I was among them.
I pushed aside the notes. The idea required further work because it was still gestating. It needed time to grow wings.
I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, which required cutting – goodness knew when that would be possible.
What had Nathan been right about?
What had he and Rose agreed about me?
I was on the switchback again.
I went to make some tea and, on the way, glanced up at the landing where the ironing-board was and where Rose, when she lived here, had placed her desk. She was still in this house, Nathan too.
I put the kettle on, unlocked the back door and went outside into the summer night.
What had Nathan and Rose decided between them?
I sat down on the bench and ran my fingernail along the table. There was lichen growing on it, and it needed scrubbing. I remembered Nathan sitting opposite me at this table. We had been married for three years and one day. Because it was such a warm evening, we were having supper outside, seafood pasta – I was eating the seafood without the pasta – and we had embarked on a negotiation as to where we should take a holiday.
‘I want somewhere hot,’ I said, as I always did so my pitch held no surprises.
He dug his fork into the pasta, twirled it expertly, then lifted it to his mouth. ‘And I want to go Cornwall,’ he said, as he always did.