To Have and to Hold (20 page)

“It’s not that you were sitting around crying or anything, you just seemed to have this air of sadness, and it’s gone now, Alice. You just look completely different.”

“That’s because it’s first thing in the morning and I’m not wearing any makeup.”

“No, although I’ll admit you do look a bit rough . . . ow!” Alice elbows him sharply as she makes a warning face. “Okay, okay, I was joking. But seriously, it’s got nothing to do with makeup or what time of day it is, your whole, aargh . . .” He grimaces and hides his head in his hands.

“What? Are you going to say something horrible? Is that why you’re making a face? Go on. Tell me.”

“This is going to sound so cheesy, but . . . your whole aura has changed.”

“You’re right. It does sound cheesy.”

“I’ll just shut up then.”

“No. Don’t. It’s nice talking about me.”

Harry shakes his head. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“But it’s true!” Alice lies. “It’s my favorite subject.”

“Anything else you’d like to add about yourself then?”

“Oh no. It’s much more fun to listen to what other people think about me. Come on. Let’s keep walking.” Alice stands up because, despite the jokes, she’s suddenly not comfortable with this conversation, with the intimacy that has sprung up, and although she has tried to hide her discomfort with humor, it is far easier to stand up and keep walking, to change the subject altogether.

“So,” Alice says briskly. “Let’s go and get some coffee and bagels to take back to the apartment. We’ve got a million things to do today, and then you two have to decide whether you want to go down to the country tonight or tomorrow.”

“Oh, right.” Harry stands up. “I’m pretty easy really. Which would suit you better?”

“Well”—Alice looks up at the sky—“as long as it doesn’t snow we’re fine either way.”

“And what can you tell from looking at the sky? Snow today or no snow?”

“I think no snow today.”

“How can you tell?”

“I can’t. I just like to look as if I know what I’m talking about.”

“Ah.” Harry nods sagely. “In that case I’d have to agree with you. Definitely no snow today.”

         B
ack at the apartment they are met with silence. The
New York Times
is exactly where they left it, the bedroom doors still firmly shut.

“My God, they’re lazy,” Alice laughs, putting the coffee and bagels down on the table. “Let me just put these out then we’ll wake them up.”

“What can I do?”

“How about plates and knives?”

“Okay.”

“Oh, and cream cheese in the fridge.”

“Got it.”

“Right.” Alice spreads everything out. “Let’s go and drag them out of bed.”

“
D
arling,” Alice whispers to a naked, sleeping Joe. “Breakfast is on the table.”

Joe turns and smiles sleepily. He’s been awake for a while, so warm and comfortable in bed he let himself doze on and off. Oddly, he found himself thinking about Josie. He hasn’t thought about her in a while, hasn’t spoken to her or had any contact, other than seeing her name at the top of a group e-mail from time to time, but this morning he started to remember the feel of her skin, the smell of her hair.

He was just getting excited when he heard Alice come into the bedroom. Ah, lovely Alice. Just what the doctor ordered. He rolls over to her and slides his hand under her sweatshirt, stroking the underside of her breast and smiling.

“Come on.” She pulls away from him and throws back the covers. “Breakfast is on the table.”

Damn. Alice gets up and disappears out the bedroom. Clearly she is not in the mood, and clearly he doesn’t have time to take care of what is now a major erection. Damn, damn, and damn. Slowly Joe heaves himself out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower.

“
W
hat a lovely time we’ve had!” Emily sighs as she turns around to see the New York skyline recede behind her. “Isn’t New York wonderful? I could stay here forever.”

Yesterday morning had been spent shopping, then lunch at a diner in the village, theater in the afternoon, and dinner in Tribeca. Emily is exhausted and exhilarated, and sorry that they’re leaving already.

“Well, they certainly loved you,” Harry smiles. “My darling Emily who single-handedly helped the economy back on its feet.”

Alice smiles but Emily is stony-faced. “How can you say that, Harry? Everything I bought was either from the market in Canal Street or cheap little shops in SoHo.”

“It’s not quality, Em, it’s quantity,” Harry says. “I don’t know how we’re going to get everything home.”

“We’ll buy another bag,” Emily grumbles.

“I thought you didn’t have any money?” Harry says.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Harry. Why don’t you just lighten up?” she snaps. “We’re on holiday. You’re supposed to have fun on holiday.”

Alice and Joe sit there uncomfortably. Alice wants to tell Emily to relax, that she is being oversensitive, but she has learned not to get involved in other people’s affairs, and so she stays silent.

Eventually Joe breaks the awkwardness. “I hope you brought your tool kit, Harry. I think Alice has got some jobs for you.”

“Damn, I knew I left something behind.” Harry smacks his forehead.

“Oh, well,” Joe smiles. “You can borrow mine.”

Alice splutters with laughter. “You don’t have a tool kit.”

“I do have some screwdrivers though,” Joe blusters.

“
I’m
the one with the tool kit, thank you,” Alice says, turning to Harry, “and I’d be happy to lend it to you.”

“And who said there was such a thing as a free holiday?” Harry tuts, looking out of the window.

“
I
can’t believe we’re here,” Emily squeals as the car turns into the driveway in Highfield. “I mean, I thought Brianden was in the country, but it’s nothing like this. This is like something out of a film. Look at these woods, all these trees.”

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Alice smiles, already more relaxed now she’s home. They roll down the driveway and pull up in front of the house.

“This is it?”

“Er . . . yes.”

“It’s lovely,” Emily says, and it is, but somehow she’d expected something much grander. She knows Joe is planning on building a far bigger house somewhere else on the land, but she also knows that Alice is quite happy with this, and even though it’s pretty, if you like that old Americana type of style, it’s not at all what she expected.

“The boys will take the bags. Come on, Em, I’ll give you the tour.”

They walk around the ground floor, Alice pointing out what’s been painted, what restored, what work she’s planning to do, and then upstairs to see the three small bedrooms, the guest room chic and welcoming with its blue toile bedspread and matching curtains, small check pillows thrown casually on the bed.

And then downstairs again, out of the French doors and into the garden, strolling down to the pond, where they huddle on a wooden bench that sits under a huge old maple tree.

“Just listen,” Alice smiles.

“What? I can’t hear anything.”

“Exactly! Isn’t it the most peaceful place you’ve ever been?”

Emily smiles. “It is. I’d probably go out of my mind living here, but I can see how you would love it.”

“But you have Brianden. That’s the country.”

“Yes, but it’s the Cotswolds. It’s different. And I’m only there on weekends, and I spend most of my time elbowing past American tourists looking for a bargain in the antique shops. It’s always pretty busy there, but this is so quiet.”

“I know. My favorite place in the world.”

“I can’t believe you’ve done it, you know.” Emily turns, her face now serious.

“Done what?”

“You’ve made your dream come true. You always wanted this. Always wanted to live in the country and have a simple life, and look at you now.”

“You know, I wake up in the mornings and sometimes I feel as if I have to pinch myself,” Alice laughs. “It just feels ridiculous that I’m this happy.”

“Oh, Ali, it’s lovely.” Emily reaches out and puts her arms around Alice, squeezing hard. “I’m so happy for you.”

They hug tightly for a few seconds, then pull apart and stand up. “Come on,” Alice says. “Let’s go and see what those boys are up to.”

         B
ack at the house Harry is building a fire and Joe is sitting at the computer in his study.

“Joe,” Alice hisses under her breath in the doorway. “We have guests. Can you not disappear and be so rude?”

“Relax, Alice. I’m just checking my e-mail. I’ll be out in a second.”

Alice sighs and closes his door again.
Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose,
she thinks. The more it changes, the more it stays the same.

21

“
H
appy Christmas!” Harry runs a hand through his tousled hair as he walks into the kitchen to see Alice slathering butter on a giant turkey.

“Aren’t you the early bird?” Alice grins. “I take it everyone else is fast asleep.”

“Emily’s out for the count, and I didn’t hear a peep from your room”—Harry peers over Alice’s shoulder at the bird—“although I admit I didn’t listen for very long. What time is it anyway?”

Alice gestures up to the old clock on the kitchen wall. “Seventen. Almost, but not quite, the crack of dawn. This feels like it’s becoming a habit, you and me in the kitchen first thing.”

Harry smiles to himself, remembering Brianden. He yawns and stretches his tracksuit-clad legs out in front of him. “Do you want me to take Snoop out for a walk?”

Alice smiles and shakes her head, sprinkling a liberal amount of salt and pepper on the turkey then walking over to the fridge for rashers of bacon to lay in strips on the turkey’s breast.

“Snoop’s already been out. But thanks.”

“And you’re calling
me
the early bird?” Harry laughs. “What time did
you
get up?”

“Around six.”

“Six o’clock? That’s the middle of the night!”

“That’s what I used to think when we were in London, but here there’s so much more to do. I just seem to be so much busier that there are never enough hours in the day. If I didn’t get up early I wouldn’t get anything done.”

“Speaking of which, what can I do to help?”

Alice pauses, about to say what she always says, which is nothing, I’m fine, but she could do with the help, and there’s no harm in admitting she’s not Superwoman after all.

“Tell you what,” she says. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot so help yourself, then you can peel potatoes.”

“Sounds great. There’s nothing like man’s work to really make me feel useful.”

Alice shrugs. “Well, you did ask. You could peel the parsnips if you prefer. Or help make the stuffing.”

“Ah, stuffing.” Harry raises an eyebrow. “That does sound like man’s work.”

“Oh, ha-ha. We’ll have none of that talk in this house, thank you.”

Harry walks over to pour himself a coffee, grabbing Alice’s cup on the way and refilling hers. As he pours he peers out of the window into the darkness. “Bummer. I see there’s no snow. I don’t even remember the last time I had a white Christmas.”

“I know.” Alice smiles. “You’d think that out here in Connecticut you’d at least have more of a chance. I suppose you have to go farther north, Vermont probably, to get the snow.”

Harry laughs. “I suppose it would have been too good to be true to wake up on Christmas Day and find a blanket of snow. Already it feels like I’m waking up in someone’s fantasy.”

Alice turns to him. “What do you mean?”

Harry starts to peel the potatoes. “I mean this house, being in this part of the world. It’s just the most perfect romantic life, so perfect it’s almost ridiculous.”

“Harry, do you know I’m so glad you said that. That’s how I feel every single day when I wake up here, but no one else seems to understand it.”

“Listen, I’m a real country boy at heart. I completely understand it. But that’s what I meant about the snow, it would be so corny it would be laughable.”

Alice laughs. “Yes,” she says. “I do see what you mean.”

“Alice? What should I do with the peelings?”

“Just chuck them in the bin.”

“What about using them for compost?”

“I don’t have a compost heap, unfortunately.”

“I could start one for you if you want.”

Alice stops laying on the bacon and looks at him with a smile of disbelief. “Harry, I would love that. God, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Nope.” Harry picks up another potato. “I’m completely perfect in every way.”

Alice doesn’t smile. She looks quickly down at the turkey, a hot flush rising in her cheeks. She remembers how she and Emily once joked about ending up with the wrong men. Why does it suddenly not seem quite so funny anymore?

         B
y the time Emily and Joe make it down to the kitchen, the oranges and lemons have been zested, and the zest, the cranberries, the sugar, and a liberal amount of port are reducing their way down to a delicious cranberry sauce.

The breadcrumbs have been mixed with the onions, sage, and chestnuts, and half is stuffed carefully between the breast of the bird and the skin, the rest waiting to enter the oven in a pan.

The parsnips and potatoes have been peeled, a butternut squash soup has been made, and the Christmas pudding—courtesy of Marks & Spencer and smuggled in Emily’s suitcase—is merrily steaming away.

Harry has built a roaring fire, and he and Alice, after arguing about the music (Nat King Cole, they both agreed, would be far too cheesy), have finally settled on Enya. Not very Christmassy, but very relaxing.

“Morning,” Emily yawns. “Have I just stepped into
It’s a Wonderful Life,
or is this for real?”

Alice laughs. “It’s for real, all right. Coffee’s in the kitchen. Are you hungry?”

“Please don’t tell me there are homemade blueberry muffins, or I may throw up,” Emily grimaces.

“Does that mean you don’t want them?”

“You have to be kidding. Of course I want them. I just can’t believe what a regular Martha Stewart you are.”

“Oh.” Alice’s face falls. “I was rather hoping I’d give Nigella a run for her money.”

“Darling, unfortunately you have neither the sultry dark locks nor the requisite curves.” Joe laughs.

“But surely a few more homemade blueberry muffins could solve that.”

Emily shakes her head. “Nope. You either got it or you ain’t. I, on the other hand, could definitely fill Nigella’s shoes. Hell, I could fill her dresses.”

“And thank God for that.” Harry stands up and puts his arms around Emily, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “Nothing’s more of a turn-off than a skinny woman.”

“And you wonder why I’m still with him.” Emily laughs, turning her head to kiss Harry as Alice looks away.

“Oh, thanks,” Harry says, with mock hurt.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Emily laughs. “Now. About those blueberry muffins . . .”

“Actually there aren’t blueberry muffins. But there are bagels in the drawer and probably some cinnamon raisin bread too. But, Em, we’ve got a huge lunch. Don’t eat too much or you’ll lose your appetite.”

“And since when have you ever known me to lose my appetite?”

“Good point.” Alice laughs. “Eat as much as you like.”

“
I
feel sick,” Emily groans as she stumbles to the sofa and collapses, holding her stomach.

“Oh, thanks a lot!” Alice laughs. “After all the trouble I went to and all you can say is ‘I feel sick’?”

“You know I don’t mean it like that,” Emily says. “It was the most delicious meal I’ve ever eaten, but I’m so stuffed. I can’t believe I ate that much.”

“I can’t believe you ate that much.” Joe joins her on the sofa and looks at her with respect. “You should win an award.”

“Oh, don’t. You’re making me feel like a pig.”

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything but . . .”

“Pig!” Emily picks up a cushion and bashes Joe over the head with it.

“Ow! I didn’t mean it!”

“Children, children,” Alice cautions from the doorway, where she stands with a pile of stacked dishes.

“Shall I put these in the dishwasher?” Harry calls from the kitchen.

“Yup, that would be great,” she calls back. “Just stick everything in the dishwasher.”

“Alice, leave everything,” Emily commands from her sunken position on the sofa. “Let me clear up. Just give me a few minutes to recover and I’ll do it.”

“Em, it’s fine. Everything’s going in the dishwasher. I can manage.”

“No.” Emily stands up. “I won’t hear of it. You went to all that trouble, there’s no way I’m going to let you clear up as well. Come and sit down on the sofa. I’ll go in and clean up with Harry.”

Alice is about to protest, but Emily comes over and takes the dishes out of her hands, and she acquiesces, walking over to the sofa to join Joe.

“It’s nice having them here, isn’t it?” she says, snuggling into Joe, who gives her an absentminded kiss before picking up the remote control and turning on the television, flicking from channel to channel in a quest to find something that will hold his interest for longer than ten seconds.

“Yup.”

“Did you like lunch?”

“It was delicious, darling.”

“Was the soup okay? Not too spicy?”

“The soup? No, darling. It was all delicious. Well done.” He pauses on a shot of a big-breasted blonde in a bikini, splashing in the water.

“Joe!” Alice admonishes, laughing.

“What?” His face is the picture of innocence.

“You know what. We’re not watching this. Actually, why do we have the television on at all? It’s Christmas Day. We shouldn’t be watching TV. We’ve got presents to open.”

“I’ll turn it off when the others come back in, okay? Deal?”

“Okay,” Alice says reluctantly. “Deal.”

         E
mily squeals with delight. “I love it! I love it!” She hooks the beaded bag over her arm and swoops down on Alice to give her a huge hug and kiss. “Oh, Alice, thank you so much! I love it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You’re very welcome,” Alice says, beaming with pleasure. “Now Harry’s turn.”

“Nope.” Harry shakes his head. “Your turn, Alice. Emily and I both bought separate presents for you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Yes. Not being married and everything, we decided not to do a single unit present. Anyway, we couldn’t agree on what to get you.”

“Oh, you’re both ridiculous,” Alice says, feeling a childlike thrill of delight at having so many presents to open. “Which one first?”

“Mine first, mine first!” Emily says, thrusting a small box into Alice’s hand. Alice carefully unwraps the paper, opens the box to find layers of tissue paper, and finally manages to pull them apart to discover a bed of cotton on which nestles a delicate rose quartz crystal on a fine silver chain.

Alice gasps. “It’s beautiful!” and Emily grins.

“Isn’t it? I saw it and thought you’d love it, and rose quartz is supposed to bring love into your life.”

Joe raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean a new love, it’s just meant to make everything more loving, I think. Not you, just, oh God.” Emily stumbles. “I think it’s just meant to make your life nice. Okay?”

“Oh, Emily, stop being so silly. Whatever it’s supposed to do, it’s lovely. Help me put it on.” Alice bends her head forward for Emily to do up the clasp.

“Oh, and the woman in the shop said you have to program it first,” Emily adds as an afterthought. “You have to clean it by dropping it into water and vinegar, then leave it in direct sunlight for a day, then stare at it while you clear your mind and envision a pure white light going through it. Then it’s yours, and clean, but you mustn’t let anyone else touch it or it will become impure.”

“Emily?” Joe says quietly.

“Yes?”

“When exactly did you lose your mind?”

“Oh, fuck off, Joe.” Emily blushes. “Apparently it really works.”

         A
lice runs out of the room to look at herself in the mirror. She takes the stairs two at a time then walks into the bathroom, fingering the crystal as she looks at her reflection. “Bring love into my life,” she whispers, thinking of Joe sitting downstairs. Not that he’s cold or distant particularly, and God knows he hasn’t done any of the disappearing acts he used to do in London, and he still tells her he loves her, but somehow Alice feels they have less of a partnership than they had before. Their interests seem to be moving further and further apart, and Alice wishes they could find some common ground that would keep both of them happy.

Time has given her a different perspective on her marriage. Time, and the space she has when she is on her own in Connecticut while Joe is working in the city. She realizes now how much she suppressed her own wants and desires when they were in London, where she always tried to mold herself into the wife that Joe expected her to be.

She’s still happy to dress the part occasionally, knows that when she goes into the city she still has a role to play, and she is willing to make that compromise because, after all, what is marriage if not compromise? But she is not willing to put Joe’s needs before hers anymore. At least not all the time.

And in turn she is hoping that Joe will make some compromises of his own. Yes, he comes out to the country every weekend, but she can’t help but feel tense when he is there, because she knows he doesn’t enjoy it, feels like a fish out of water. He seems happier now that he is playing tennis on a regular basis and is presumably starting to find friends of his own, but given the choice, she knows he would gladly sell up here and never set foot north of Ninetieth Street again.

The fact that he comes to the country at all is, she realizes, Joe’s way of compromising. She just wishes he wouldn’t be so obviously unhappy about it.

“Let us be more loving,” she whispers, looking at the rose quartz crystal in the mirror. “Let us find our love for one another again. Help us be happy.” And tearing herself away, she goes back downstairs.

“
Y
our turn now,” Alice says to Harry, picking up the biggest box and handing it to him.

“Oh, Christ!” Harry says. “This one’s for me? I’ve been looking at this all day assuming it was for Joe. It’s huge. What is it?”

Joe smiles. “Open it and see.” But of course he is as much in the dark as Harry, Alice being the one assigned to buying presents.

Harry opens the card. “To Harry, Merry Christmas, love Joe and Alice xx,” then tears open the paper, revealing the toolbox. He starts to grin.

“Ah-ha!” He laughs. “You did say there was no such thing as a free lunch.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Alice laughs. “And you thought you’d get away with it because you hadn’t brought any tools with you.”