‘I like boxes,’ Mackenzie said, sitting down next to a clothes pile and stroking the fabric as if it was a pet.
‘I’ll remember that at Christmas,’ said Claire, gathering up the clothes and taking them back to the bedroom.
‘Christmas is Father Christmas, Mummy,’ said Mackenzie, as the two of us trailed behind Claire. ‘You can remember whatever you want but Santa won’t bring me cardboard boxes.’
Claire and I both laughed, and then we started the very pleasing task of looking at her clothes. I tried on a few dresses, and so did Mackenzie, and despite the fact that Claire is tall and thin and has small boobs, and I am shorter and fatter and bigger boobed, I still looked great in some of them. I suspect that’s the magic of expensive clothes – my middle-class wardrobe doesn’t make the same miracles.
Eventually we settled on a low-cut black dress – such a soft material it didn’t feel like wearing anything at all, and dressy without being over the top, because we didn’t know where Steve was taking me. Claire said the dress had never looked great on her – it made her boobs look ‘stupid’ – but I didn’t believe her.
‘Keep it,’ said Claire. ‘It looks much better on you.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t.’ I held it close to me, feeling the soft fabric. Then I caught a glimpse of the designer label. The dress probably cost half my monthly salary. ‘I’ll give it back to you next week.’
Claire shrugged. ‘Whatever. But really, if you decide you like it, keep it.’
I wondered what it must be like, to be able to give away such an expensive dress without a thought. To be able to move through life unworried. I almost wanted to hate Claire, but I couldn’t.
Downstairs, Mackenzie went back to watching TV and chatting unselfconsciously with the screen, and I had a glass of wine while Claire put the finishing touches to a salad.
‘We’ll eat as soon as Daddy gets home,’ she said to Mackenzie, and I found I was quite nervous to meet her husband. I wasn’t sure what I’d say to a bossy, hulking Viking who routinely threatened to dispossess his wife and daughter of their clothes and toys, and who came from a place where they tramped to school in the snow.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t stay,’ I said. ‘It’s family time. I’m intruding.’
‘Nonsense.’ Claire looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. ‘I’ve told him so much about you. He’d be furious if you left.’
That didn’t make me feel any better about Claire’s beast of a husband, and I took a great slug of wine, hoping I’d be inoffensive enough to him that he wouldn’t forbid Claire from seeing me.
Then I heard a door slam and Mackenzie’s feet running down the hall.
‘Daddy!’ she yelled. ‘Daddy’s home. Daddy’s home.’ She sounded relieved. Maybe he routinely threatened to leave.
I put down my glass and eyed the door warily. Claire, on the other hand, bent over the oven to poke at a chicken pie.
But what came through the door made no sense at all. A dishevelled man wearing jeans and an untucked collared shirt was carrying Mackenzie as well as a briefcase with papers and what seemed to be a giant lollipop sticking out of it, and a bunch of flowers that was almost obscuring my view of the man. But not quite. He had dark hair and a nose that was much too large for his face. This couldn’t possibly be Claire’s tyrannical husband.
He stopped when he saw me, and gave Mackenzie a resounding kiss on the head before putting her down.
‘And who is this?’ he said, indicating me but speaking to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie looked at me, and shrugged. ‘She’s stealing Mum’s clothes.’
‘Ah,’ said the man, ‘then you are Julia. What a delight to meet you. Claire’s told me that you and she have a marvellous time potting.’ He somehow disentangled himself from his briefcase, and plonked down the flowers on the counter. Taking my hand in both of his, he shook it firmly.
‘I’m Daniel,’ he said. ‘Claire’s husband and Mackenzie’s father. And I’m sure I’ll be your friend.’ He looked at me from under hooded eyelids with freckled green eyes that were only slightly higher than my own. I felt like I was stepping into a forest.
Then suddenly his beam of light was diverted off me and he picked up the flowers. ‘These are for you, Claire-my-sweet,’ he said. When he walked over to her, I saw my initial impression was correct – he was slightly shorter than her, only slightly taller than me. I would never have expected that.
Claire took the flowers and thrust them into the sink with some water. I noticed she didn’t kiss him.
‘Idiot,’ she said. ‘Bringing flowers to show off to Julia. She’s going to think you’re so silly.’
Daniel laughed and it was a sound that danced along my nerves straight to my bones. I wanted to hear it again and again. He turned to me.
‘I am silly, Julia,’ he said seriously. ‘I am very silly. If silly’s not your game, then I will have to change. Should I change?’ He looked at me, and then at Claire.
Claire sighed, but I was enchanted. ‘Silly is fine,’ I said. ‘Silly is magnificent.’ I giggled, partly from enjoyment, partly from relief. ‘You’re not at all what I expected.’
‘I hope I’m better.’ Daniel put an arm around Claire, who pulled away and bent to get the pie out of the oven.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
Helen
I met Mike when I was twenty-three, and after that there was nobody else for me.
We met on what was basically a blind date. Neither of us had ever been on a blind date before and neither of us wanted to go on a blind date. It wasn’t like it is now, where people happily meet up with complete strangers they find on
