Invincible summer, p.10
Invincible Summer, page 10
In the three years since Benedict’s wedding, Eva’s love life had been a barren wasteland, home only to drifting tumbleweed. Most of her time and energy went into her job, and her social life consisted mostly of work events or nights in with a bottle of wine, which was Sylvie’s usual preference as she was now working as a receptionist and always skint. Once in a while they got Lucien to put them on the guest list for one of his club nights, but Eva didn’t enjoy them much anymore; whether it was watching Lucien seduce his way through an endless supply of pneumatic dancers, or just that it was hard to summon up much enthusiasm for hundred-decibel house music when one preferred not to addle one’s brain with pills, the shine had gone off clubbing for Eva.
Forty minutes later Eva had long since ceased to fret about her clothing, but only because it was the least of her worries.
‘Twenty-four! Twenty-three! Twenty-two! Keep going!’ Julian was bawling at her, counting down from fifty stomach crunches.
‘I…can’t,’ she panted, letting the medicine ball slip from her grasp and roll away across the floor.
‘You can! Come on, just another few to go! You can do it!’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ Eva collapsed onto the mat. ‘I physically can’t. I’m telling my body to carry on but it’s staging a mutiny.’
‘Keep going!’ Julian hollered. ‘It’s all about mind over matter!’
‘No, it’s bloody not,’ she snapped back. ‘I’ve got a bloody physics degree and I’m telling you that my matter is utterly impervious to my mind. You can yell at me as much as you want but it won’t change the fact that I can’t bloody do it.’
‘Oh.’ Julian stopped and looked crestfallen and she felt her anger dissipating and being replaced by the urge to ruffle his light brown hair. ‘Too much? Am I pushing you too hard? I was just trying to be motivational. And I don’t get many clients who can’t do a bit more than that, if I’m honest. Well, maybe the odd pensioner.’
She laughed at his cheek. ‘Look, it’s not you, it’s me. I’ve spent the last five years working on a trading floor in the conditions of a battery chicken and my body has withered. And I wasn’t exactly Linda Hamilton in Terminator II to begin with. I think this whole thing may have been a mistake.’
‘Please don’t give up,’ he begged. ‘We can take it more slowly. Your pace, I promise. The first session’s always the hardest. I have to push you to establish your limits, and now that I know them I can ease up on you. Let’s wind down with some assisted stretching and massage, then you’ll see it’s not all misery.’
At that point she’d have agreed to gnaw off her own limbs if it meant she could stop, so she meekly allowed herself to be led to a mat in an alcove at the rear of the gym, where he ground his elbows into her buttocks ‘to release trapped nerves’ and then practically lay on top of her to pull and stretch her leg muscles into a sort of agonising bliss. She had to admit that some of it felt good, but she was far too tense to enjoy it. Lying on the floor sweating profusely under the most attractive man she had ever been within ten metres of was a lot less sexy than she would have imagined. Finally the clock ticked round to the hour and he released her to limp towards the showers. Apparently his day was over too, because he followed her down the stairs to the changing rooms, chatting about the triathlon he had coming up. She was about to scuttle into the ladies changing room when he put a hand on her arm and said, ‘You’re not coming back, are you?’
‘Um, no. Probably not. I think maybe I’m cut out for more cerebral pursuits. Life of the mind, and all that.’
Julian looked mortified. ‘Look what I’ve done. My job is to make people love exercise and instead I’ve put you off for life. You must think I’m a total sadist.’
‘No, really, it’s fine,’ Eva stuttered, embarrassed.
‘At least let me take you for a drink to make up for it. You’re my last client today. Are you free after we shower?’
‘You mean like an alcoholic drink? Do you fitness freaks actually do that?’
‘Well, not that often to be honest,’ he admitted. ‘But I can make an exception this once. You’ll come then? That’s great! I’ll see you out the front in ten, okay?’ He bounded away without waiting for her answer.
Chapter 13
Hampstead, September 2004
ACTUALLY, DO YOU mind if we go to Pizza Express instead?’
Eva and Benedict both turned to look at Lydia in bemusement. They were standing at the entrance to Hampstead tube station, where they had arranged to meet. As Eva had pushed her way out of the lift and through the turnstiles her initial cheer at spotting Benedict’s face had turned to surprise as she panned down to the baby snuggled in a carrier against his chest, then finally dissolved into horror as she’d spotted Lydia a few metres away grappling with an enraged toddler, who seemed extremely unhappy about being impeded from hurling himself under the feet of the crowd marching towards the exit. With a show of force from Benedict the group managed to assemble in front of the ticket machine, shuffling uncomfortably close together each time a glaring traveller needed to purchase a fare.
‘Though maybe Giraffe would be better,’ Lydia continued. ‘They’ll have crayons and stickers for Josh. And a kids’ menu. Trust me, we’ll be in a world of pain if we go to Jin Kichi, there’s nothing for little ones and nowhere to put the buggy. We can hardly expect Josh to eat raw fish.’
‘I don’t eat raw fish either, remember?’ parried Eva. Judging by the last thirty seconds, during which Josh had turned his demonic attentions to battering her shins with a plastic digger, they were going to be in a world of pain wherever they went. ‘There’s plenty of vegetarian stuff on the menu at Jin Kichi.’
Maybe if she stood firm and insisted they go somewhere unsuitable for children Lydia would get the message and decide to take the kids back to Benedict’s parents’ instead.
Benedict shot her a pleading look. She knew that he hadn’t planned this but it still rankled. When he suggested lunch she’d assumed he meant the two of them, and had pictured a leisurely afternoon lingering over coffee and catching up with everything that had been happening since they last saw each other almost a year ago. She’d imagined telling him how well her job was going, mentioning the very handsome personal trainer she’d been seeing, flirting a little, making him laugh, and generally savouring the bitter-sweetness of a love affair that never was. She’d hoped it would be…was healing too strong a word?
Eva had wondered after the wedding whether a clean break might not be best but time had softened the sense of shame and rejection she felt until it was an almost-pleasurable sore spot, like pressing a bruise. She and Benedict hadn’t spoken for several months afterwards and the first time he’d called it had been a bit strained, but after that he had diligently emailed and phoned every week or two and it hadn’t taken long for them to slip back into their old friendship and for her to conclude that her life was the better for having him in it in whatever capacity he could manage.
‘I suppose we could go somewhere else,’ Eva relented after another pleading look from Benedict, who, she couldn’t help noticing, appeared tired and rumpled and generally deserving of pity.
They shuffled out of the station and made their way down the high street towards Giraffe, a chain restaurant that Eva normally made a point of avoiding because of the unpleasant preponderance of children. It was a short walk, during which Josh nevertheless managed a couple of passable attempts at hari kiri by wriggling free and charging towards the traffic at random intervals. They’d only just sat down at a sticky table in the heaving restaurant when Benedict announced that he needed the loo.
‘Do you fancy holding Will for a minute?’ he asked Eva, not waiting for a response before unfastening the sling and depositing ten pounds of squishy, drooling infant onto her lap. Eva held the baby awkwardly under the arms and looked at it. The baby looked back. He had deep blue eyes and a solemn expression on his face. She forced her face into a smile.
‘Well, hello there,’ she tried.
Will gazed up at her intently and then broke into a huge gummy smile. Emboldened by this early success, Eva poked out her tongue at the baby, who looked appalled and promptly screwed his face up into ball of angry wrinkles before turning an improbable shade of puce and emitting a piercing wail.
‘How about you, Eva? Getting broody yet?’ Lydia shouted above the continuing screams, which by now were competing with the noise of Josh’s concerted efforts to demolish his high chair with his truck.
‘Strangely not,’ Eva shouted back, holding the writhing infant at arm’s length. A pungent smell was now wafting upwards.
‘It’ll hit you, don’t you worry. What are you now, twenty-eight? I give you another two years. So many of my friends said a few years ago when we were having Josh that they didn’t want their own, and now they’re all procreating like crazy.’
Eva’s expression grew steely. She was long-accustomed to variations on this speech from supposedly well-meaning acquaintances but it was particularly galling coming from Lydia, who was apparently labouring under the misapprehension that her family was straight out of a Boden catalogue and blissfully unaware that in actual fact Eva couldn’t think of a single better advertisement for the judicious use of contraception.
Was she merely being insensitive, or was this an act of passive-aggression intended to underline what Lydia saw as her superior status as wife and mother? Either way, it was just as infuriating as all the other times she’d had to tolerate speculation on when her body clock would kick in. It was surprisingly difficult to deflect the pitying assumption that she was putting a brave face on not having a man to do it with rather than the true reason, which was that she had absolutely no aspirations to join the ranks of breeders stacked into Giraffe on a Saturday. Any idiot could pop out a sprog, while she had a career that most people could only dream of. Plus, it wasn’t as though she was sufficiently optimistic about the future of the world to want a stake in it. Having a baby would be like going long human race futures in a position that you had to constantly monitor and could never hedge or close out. That wasn’t a trade she’d want on her book.
‘I expect your friends changed their minds when they saw your two,’ said Eva sarcastically, and then immediately felt mean-spirited when Lydia looked up from trying to prevent Josh hurling the salt cellar onto the floor and beamed at her.
‘Eva, what a lovely thing to say. Gorgeous, aren’t they? Hard work, obviously, but worth every minute. Don’t you worry, your turn will come.’
At that moment Benedict came back to the table and Eva wasted no time in thrusting the yelling baby into his arms.
‘Ew, Will ponks a bit, Lydia. Do you mind doing the honours? Give me and Eva a few minutes to catch up?’
‘I suppose so. What about you, Josh? Might as well do them both I suppose, while we’re somewhere with proper changing facilities.’
Benedict sat down and looked at Eva across the newly silent table. ‘Sorry about this,’ he said. ‘I know it’s not what you bargained for but Lydia really wanted to join us. She hasn’t seen you in ages, and we’re staying with my parents so I think she fancied getting out of the house. My mother’s driving her a bit mad with her parenting advice. Which mostly amounts to “why on earth don’t you get a nanny?”’
‘That’s okay, it’s nice to meet the new baby,’ muttered Eva, sounding as insincere as she felt. ‘He looks like you,’ she added automatically, having grown accustomed to what was expected of her in these situations.
Benedict’s tired face brightened. ‘Do you think so?’
Eva grinned. ‘Well, if you’re going to force me to be honest, mostly he looks like Jabba the Hutt. Have you considered a paternity test?’ For a split second she worried that she’d overstepped the mark, but Benedict didn’t miss a beat.
‘We’re booked onto Jerry Springer next week. You can catch us on the I Think My Wife was Impregnated by a Gargantuan Space Monster episode.’ He caught her eye and they both laughed, their old rapport returning at last.
‘Seriously though, how’s it going with two of the little blighters?’ she asked. ‘Looks like a handful.’
‘Fine, mostly. I’m well aware that it looks like the seventh circle of hell from the outside but so much of it is wonderful. You can’t really explain the joys of parenting to non-parents, but they’re there and they more than make up for the copious excrement and deadly assaults with diggers. Lydia finds it a bit tough at times, what with living away from friends and family. And my having to work such long hours doesn’t help. But it’s just the early bit that’s hard, when you don’t get much sleep. It’ll get easier once Will’s a bit older.’
‘And have you glimpsed any wondrous particles lately?’ Eva asked.
‘No, we’re still a way off firing up the hadron collider. How about you? How’s being a Master of the Universe working out?’
‘Work’s going great. Done a few big trades this year, looking forward to a big bonus.’
‘Yes, I’ve been hearing about those City bonuses,’ chirped Lydia, arriving back at the table with the boys. ‘It’s a bit obscene, isn’t it, the way they pay millions to you lot just for shuffling money around when there are people starving in the world? Just don’t become one of those awful people who are obsessed with money and status, Eva, whatever you do. There’s more to life than making money.’
Eva couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She saw Benedict look from her to his wife and back again and open his mouth to say something placatory but she didn’t wait for him to speak. ‘Well, Lydia, some of us have to work for a living. And I work bloody hard for mine.’
It was Lydia’s turn to bridle. ‘Yes, well. Raising kids is hard work too. It doesn’t come with a big bonus, but then, not everything that counts can be counted. You know who said that? Albert Einstein.’
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Eva blurted out more forcefully than she’d intended, causing several parents at the surrounding tables to glare at her. ‘Those of us who didn’t grow up with our own pet pony don’t have the luxury of swanning through life pretending that money doesn’t matter. It does bloody matter. It dictates where you live, what education you get, whether your cancer is diagnosed before it’s the size of a walrus and whether you get a thrombosis flying economy. Yes, there are things that money can’t buy, but I’d still rather cry about them in the back of a Mercedes than on a bicycle.’ Eva glanced at the mother still tutting at her from the next table and lowered her voice to a growl. ‘And by the way, if you understood anything about basic economics you’d know that my bonuses aren’t taking money out of other people’s pockets. A rising tide lifts all boats. I make money, and then I pay other people to clean my flat, and buy a new jacket that I wouldn’t otherwise have bought, and that creates jobs and puts money in the pockets of the people who clean flats and make jackets.’
In the time she’d been speaking, Lydia’s expression had progressed from shock to defensiveness to grim-faced rage. Had she gone too far? Benedict leant back from the table, perhaps bracing himself for Lydia’s response, but this time Josh beat her to it.
‘Forfucksake,’ he shouted joyfully, and hurled the saltcellar onto the floor where it shattered into tiny pieces.
‘So that went rather well, I thought,’ said Eva sheepishly as she said goodbye to Benedict in the street outside the restaurant after the most interminably long lunch of her life.
‘You think?’ he asked. ‘I mean, you only managed to mortally offend Lydia and taught Josh his first swearword, which, if I know my son at all will be his absolute favourite word from here on in. If you really wanted to be sure I didn’t turn up for lunch with my family again you should have gone for the hat-trick and shown Will how to stick a fork in a plug socket.’ He grinned, but also glanced nervously over his shoulder to where Lydia was herding Josh out into the street to join them. ‘Are you walking back up to the station?’
‘No, I think I’m going to stay and do some shopping. Cheerio then!’ Before Lydia had a chance to reach them, Eva bustled off down the high street with a jaunty wave and darted round the next corner into an alleyway, where she remained gently and repeatedly banging her forehead against the side of a building for the several minutes it took for her to be certain the coast was clear.
Chapter 14
Docklands, March 2005
EVA PUT DOWN her bag in the hallway and closed the door quietly behind her so as not to wake Julian. She didn’t feel as bad as she could have done, a little bleary perhaps, but she could definitely have been excused for feeling worse. She’d managed to sleep on the plane and in the taxi from the airport so that helped, and of course there was a certain amount of euphoria at the trip having been so successful. Eleven client meetings in six countries in eight days was close to the limits of human endurance, but it was finally over and she was pretty sure she had set up a decent pipeline of trades for the year, meaning a decent bonus with a bit of luck. That would be good news professionally, and helped to ease her mind about the ridiculous amount she had spent on this place.
This place, her new home, was a penthouse in a tower in Docklands with an impressive view of the East London skyline and beyond. Big Paul and Sylvie had both said she was crazy spending such an enormous sum on a new-build in Docklands, but she considered it a sanctuary, an investment that enabled her to keep doing such a demanding job. Of course, she needed the job to pay the mortgage so in one sense the argument was circular, but still. Most of the men at her level of seniority had wives who did their laundry, stocked their fridges and bought their mothers’ birthday gifts, leaving them free to concentrate on making the big bucks. Eva didn’t have a wife but she did have the apartment, and she felt a far more sensual connection with it than she suspected half of those men did with their spouses. She ran her fingers over the Corian worktop, sank her stockinged feet into the deep pile of the rug and then stepped onto the terrace and looked out over the city, its buildings gently blurred by the evaporating vestiges of last night’s mist.
