Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [53]
In fact, everything was a little depressing at this time of year. Christmas was over. You knew you had five pounds to lose, but the fridge was still full of mince pies and that most aspirational of cheeses, Stilton, which everyone seemed to buy in those vast rounds in December, but which no one every really seemed to want to eat by more than the sliver. There were still three long months of winter to endure, of flaky gray skin and centrally heated air and crap TV. And you couldn’t even lift the malaise with retail therapy.
It was Jennifer who had suggested that they meet in John Lewis—the temple. Lisa opted to join the lengthening queue at the coffee shop and risk an executive decision on whether Jennifer would prefer the coffee or the carrot cake, a latte or a chamomile tea. She had chosen a table by the window and was about to plunge her fork into one or other of the cakes, when Jennifer arrived. She obviously didn’t feel the same way about the sales—she had several large carrier bags with her already.
“What you been buying?”
“Bed linen. Towels. Oh…and a KitchenAid blender. It’s a funny color, which obviously no one wants, so there was fifty pounds off….”
“And you don’t mind the color?”
“I don’t much like it, but I’m not wearing it, am I? I’m blending in it. And you know we don’t actually keep stuff like that out on the counter, so who cares?”
Quite. You could actually perform an appendectomy on Jennifer and Stephen’s granite worktops without any fear or extra precaution.
“What about you? Bagged any bargains?”
“Just the cake.”
“Yum.”
Jennifer sat down gratefully and took a sip from her tea. Lisa took her cue and picked up the coffee.
“So, how are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“How’s Andy?”
“Fine.”
“Fine as in I’ve told him I don’t actually want to marry him, and he took it pretty well, or fine as in I haven’t said a word and he still thinks I’ll be a June bride?”
“Bloody hell, Jen. Cut to the chase, why don’t you?”
“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve been feeling incredibly sorry for him, ever since you told us at Christmas.”
“I know. I know. No, I haven’t told him I don’t want to marry him.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t say it like that. God! You can get so much disapproval packed into a single syllable, Jen.”
“I don’t mean to. Sorry.” Jennifer smiled.
“We had Cee Cee from Boxing Day, didn’t we? Karen went sailing on some yacht in the Caribbean, as you do…for a whole week. I could hardly have that conversation with him with her and her big flappy ears in the house, could I?”
“Poor Cee Cee!”
“Poor Andy. Poor Cee Cee. What about me?”
“Poor you.”
“Thank you!”
Lisa laughed a little. “You’re right—I’m an absolute coward. Cee Cee goes to bed at seven—there were vast parts of the day when I could have told him. I know. Do you know why I haven’t?”
“No.”
“Because he’ll ask me why, and I don’t even think I can tell him. I don’t think I can give him a good reason—at least not a good enough one. I can’t even give myself a good enough reason, for Christ’s sake. And do you know what worries me, I mean, really worries me?”
“Again, that would be a no.”
“It’s that this will be the final straw for him. I think he’ll break up with me if I say no.”
“And you know you don’t want that to happen.”
“I think so, yes.”
“Well, that’s something, isn’t it? You know you want to be with him.”
“That’s not enough though, is it?”
“Not for him, obviously.”
Lisa ate a large forkful of cake. Crumbs fell from her mouth, and she pressed them on the back of her fork.
Jennifer nursed her mug between her hands, unconsciously drumming her fingers against the porcelain.
“You’ve got to talk to him, Lisa. Talking to him might make it clearer, to both of you.”
“Says you—you’re hardly a master at communication—you and Stephen were barely speaking to each other at Christmas.”
“We were!”
“You know what I mean. You weren’t…you weren’t close…you weren’t quite