Magic Sometimes Happens Read online

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Do you think we should save this bit of meatloaf? Or chuck it in the bin?’

  ‘I’d chuck it in the bin. Tess, you were telling me about Professor Riley’s wife?’

  ‘Why are you so bothered about Pat Riley’s wife?’

  ‘I’m not bothered, Tess. But you have this irritating habit of starting on a subject then grasshoppering away again.’

  ‘She’s just a woman – shortish, cuteish, with natural blondish hair. No prettier than you or me and she’ll be dumpy when she’s middle-aged. She’s got that sort of figure. So she’ll always need to diet, exercise, or she’ll run to fat. She smiled. She said it was good to meet me and how was I doing? She didn’t look like a cow.’

  Ben reckoned Pat was broken-hearted, added Tess.

  But when he’d looked at me while we were eating cheesecake, I could have sworn I saw amusement in his eyes.

  ‘What’s your verdict, then?’ asked Tess, as she put the knives and forks and spoons into their purple velvet nests in the big mahogany canteen – a wedding present to Mrs Fairfax Two, apparently. But she hadn’t taken it when she and Ben split up. So now it was the property of Mrs Fairfax Three for the duration. ‘Professor Riley, Rosie – nice arse, nice face, nice eyes, nice hair, nice everything, in fact?’

  ‘I didn’t really notice.’

  ‘Ooh – you did, you liar. I watched you noticing!’

  ‘Tess, he’s just a man.’

  ‘You smiled at him as well.’

  ‘I was being polite and British, wasn’t I? I always smile at people I meet socially, ask them what they do and all that stuff. It’s the way my mother brought me up.’

  ‘Yeah, you do tend to act like Lady Muck from Downtown Minster or whatever it’s called. You’re well embarrassing. But you thought he was attractive, didn’t you? You thought he was hot?’

  Tess turned from her forks and grinned at me. ‘Okay, he doesn’t have a lot to say. But we must make allowances. He’s been best mates with Mr Gobby Fairfax all his life and Ben can talk enough for both of them.’

  As she rattled on, I thought – yes, Pat Riley’s arse was very nice. I’d noticed as he left. He had nice eyes as well. Dark and heavy-lashed, they looked like they could smoulder and anyone who crossed him should watch out. As for his hair – jet-black and plumb line straight, he could have had a better cut and style. But it was not receding and it wasn’t greying yet.

  ‘He’s married,’ I reminded Tess.

  ‘His wife’s playing away.’ She giggled. ‘You could get in there while Mrs Riley’s being bad and have yourself a little bit of fun.’

  ‘I don’t steal other women’s men.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have to steal him, he’s up for grabs. But don’t take ages making up your mind. Guys like that don’t hang around for long. Co-eds tend to notice when their professor’s lonely and they move in fast. Or that’s what Ben says, anyway.’

  ‘Ben should know.’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ said Tess and sighed. ‘I’m sure he does. Ben knows everything. I guess I’d better go and keep him company, that’s if I want an upgrade on my ride.’

  I found Professor Riley was somewhat in my thoughts, even though he was way out of bounds.

  Off limits, as they say.

  So, to take my mind off him, I got out my laptop to email Granny Cassie. I often emailed Mum and Dad, of course, two or three times a week. But it was somehow easier to email Granny Cassie. So I sent her a message every day. At ninety, she was probably the oldest iPad user in the world. Or one of the oldest iPad users, anyway.

  FROM: Rosie Denham

  SUBJECT: USA

  TO: Cassie Denham

  SENT: 7 September 23:17

  Hi Granny Cassie

  How are you? I hope you’re keeping well? Did you get those new splints and do they help? Do you think you’ll have those operations on your hands? What does the doctor say?

  Tess is spoiling me. She’s feeding me with lots of good home cooking. I’m sure I must have put on half a stone. I don’t dare weigh myself!

  Ben, that’s Tess’s husband, is quite nice. He’s young and handsome, too. But you mustn’t worry. I’m not going to steal him. He’s absolutely not my type. He thinks he’s it, as you would say.

  What shall I bring you from America? They have some gorgeous dressing gowns in a shop in Minneapolis. They’re very light in weight. The dressing gowns, I mean. A cherry-red one, Granny – do you fancy that?

  Please say hello to Mum and Dad for me and tell them I’ll be writing real soon, as they say over here.

  Lots of love from Rosie XXX

  As I clicked send, I told myself I ought to write to Mum and Dad tonight. But it was hard to write to them – so hard. I didn’t know what to say and so I waffled endlessly. Or I was terse and curt with them, and this was just as bad.

  FROM: Rosie Denham

  SUBJECT: USA

  TO: J & W Denham

  SENT: 7 September 23:27

  Hi Mum and Dad

  I hope you’re well. I’m having a good time in the Twin Cities. I’m going to buy Granny a new dressing gown. What can I get for you?

  Rosie XXX

  Of course my parents were not well. Of course I wasn’t having a good time. I wouldn’t dare. Of course they didn’t want me to bring them souvenirs.

  They wanted Charlie back.

  When they replied the following day, they told me nothing. Dad made a few remarks about the golf club, how he was treasurer again this year and how some of the fairways were in an awful state. Mum said she was visiting the hospice every Tuesday and also trying to do something for the young offenders who were up before the courts repeatedly. But there was nothing personal. They never mentioned Charlie.

  They must hate me, mustn’t they, just for being alive?

  PATRICK

  I slept way better than I had expected and I was almost happy when I woke on Sunday morning. But it was the fuzzy, half-conscious, half-unconscious happiness you sometimes feel when you’re just half-awake, before reality kicks in and you remember everything is not exactly perfect in your world.

  I didn’t know what I would say to Lex. But I was looking forward to seeing Joe and Polly. I still planned on being a better father to my children, even if I couldn’t be Lexie’s husband any more.

  Or perhaps I could?

  As I fixed my cereal I was thinking maybe we could take a short vacation, just the two of us? If my mother came to watch the children, if we had some time alone together, surely we could work things out?

  As for the British guy – I would delete him from the hard drive of my mind. I would forget he’d mauled my wife. On this sunny morning, I was confident – or almost confident – it could be done.

  After I ate breakfast I headed out and bought ground beef, passata, garlic, penne so we could eat Italian when my family came home. I tidied the apartment, put clothes away in closets and magazines in piles – Lex always fussed about my magazines – and took a sack of garbage to the dumpster.

  At six on Sunday evening Mr Wonderful brought Lexie and my children home. He didn’t ride the elevator up to the apartment. This was wise of him. It’s a long drop from the balcony on to the concrete parking lot a hundred feet below.

  The three of them looked tired and dirty. Polly had some scratches on her face. I hoped Lex had dabbed on antiseptic so they wouldn’t get infected. Joe had ripped his hoodie and his sneakers were in ruins. They’d be going in the trash.

  Lex had burned her nose off. She’s too fair to go out in hot sun – her parents were a mushroom and a vampire. She had red blotches on her neck and arms. The lakeside bugs had eaten her alive.

  ‘So you’ll think about a short vacation?’ We were in the kitchen fixing crackers, cheese and additive-free milkshakes for the kids and I was boiling water for the pasta.

  ‘No, Pat,’ said Lexie. ‘I’ve done thinking. We’re moving out tomorrow after you go to work.’

  ‘Lex, I think we s
hould discuss this further.’

  ‘We have nothing to discuss. I don’t want any of that stuff you’re cooking.’

  So I took the pan off of the hob before I could be tempted to throw it at her head and walked out of the kitchen.

  ‘Did you have a good time at the lake?’ I asked my son, who was lying full-length on the couch and playing Angry Birds on Lexie’s phone.

  ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he said, not looking up.

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘We rowed a boat. We hiked in woods and Polly fell in brambles. We made a fire and roasted dogs. We did a bunch of stuff.’ But he was much more interested in zapping pigs than talking to his father.

  Polly bumbled round the living room, sucking on her fingers and dripping chocolate milkshake all over the cream rug. ‘Come sit with Daddy, Polly?’ I took out some sugar-and-additive-free jelly beans. ‘Come read a book with me?’

  ‘Please don’t try to bribe the kids with treats and candy, Patrick.’ Lex watched from the doorway while Polly toddled over and climbed up on my lap. ‘As for books – I need to have a word with you about the reading matter you seem to think is suited to our son.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong with it?’

  ‘Where would I start?’ She walked in the room and picked a couple books off of the pile on the coffee table. ‘What do have we here?’ she drawled. ‘Awesome Algorithms. Funky Fractals. Pat, your son is still in kindergarten. Stephen says that if you start to push a child too early and too hard—’

  But I shut my ears to Mr Wonderful’s rough guide to raising perfect kids and started reading Kitty’s Birthday Brownie to my daughter.

  Polly listened carefully, her thumb wedged in her mouth, ready to turn the pages of a book she knew by heart and fuss if I should skip a single word.

  I read for five, six minutes, then—

  ‘You kids, it’s bath time,’ Lexie told them. ‘Say goodnight to Daddy and go get in the tub.’ The children knew that tone of voice and did as they were told.

  When I next went to the local bookstore, I decided, I’d find Joe some titles like Fun with Fire and Flame and Easy Electricity – Experiments for Junior Bright Sparks and see how Lex liked those.

  I changed my mind about the house out on the prairie.

  ‘Alexis, if you walk out on this marriage, there’ll be no coming back,’ I said when she came in the living room again, sitting down as far away as possible from me.

  ‘Who said I wanted to come back?’ Picking up a magazine, she started flicking through it.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it – us?’

  ‘As I already told you, there’s nothing to discuss. This relationship was never good and now it’s over. Pat, it’s finished, done.’

  ‘Alexis, we’ve been married fifteen years. We have two small children. We’ve known each other since we were in elementary school.’

  ‘Yeah, way too long,’ said Lexie, eyes still fixed on her magazine. ‘We were kids ourselves back then. We’re different people now. It’s like we got trapped inside a time-warp. Stephen thinks—’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I said. No way did I want to hear more psycho-shit from Mr Wonderful. ‘Give me your new address and I’ll redirect your mail. As I said before, I’ll make you an allowance for the children. But I’m sure there’ll be a ton of stuff they’re going to need on top of basic food and clothes and shoes?’

  ‘My attorney will be writing you. Stephen thinks we should do everything through our attorneys from now on.’

  So this is how a marriage ends, I thought, like a tornado ripping through a house, cracking it and splintering it, leaving only broken promises and tarnished dreams and children who don’t need to be upset but who are certain to get hurt.

  As Lexie snapped the pages in her magazine, my cell began to ring. It was Ben and hell, he sounded mad. ‘Hey, Professor,’ he began. ‘If you’re not too busy freaking grading, come have a beer with me?’

  ‘Why, what’s up?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

  ‘Mrs Fairfax Three?’

  ‘You got it, buddy boy. I just saw my Amex statement. She went shopping like there’s no tomorrow. The screwball girlfriend must have led her on.’

  ‘Meet you at the usual place?’

  ‘Yeah, might as well.’

  ‘I’ll be there in ten.’

  ‘Where are you going, Patrick?’ Lex demanded as I grabbed my keys.

  ‘Ben wants to meet me for a beer.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to talk about our marriage?’

  ‘I thought you told me there was nothing to discuss?’

  ‘I always knew you’d be like this. When I want to talk, you get up and walk out on me. You go drink beer with Ben.’

  ‘Lexie, don’t play games with me. I don’t need to go meet Ben, so if you want to talk?’

  ‘You go drink beer. I need to take a shower.’

  Did someone write the book on women? Maybe I should read it? Yeah, when I have a million years and nothing else to do.

  ROSIE

  We’d been to lots of stores in Minneapolis already, but Tess said it was time I graduated to the Mall, to the Hollywood of the Midwest.

  The Mall of America.

  So what can I say, apart from it was very big – in fact, it was enormous. We spent most of Saturday and Sunday there and hardly scratched the surface.

  Tess’s Amex Gold was melting by the time we left. As we drove back home to the apartment, she was worrying what Ben would say when he found out how much she’d spent, particularly on a gorgeous pair of purple boots we’d noticed in September Vogue and bookmarked straight away.

  ‘But surely he will understand?’ I said. ‘Tess, he must be a millionaire by now and you’re his wife and so he’ll want you to look good? As Fanny’s always saying, the right accessories are so important. There’s no point in buying lovely clothes and wearing rubbish shoes. You’ll just look cheap. Those boots will be absolutely perfect with your Miu Miu handbag, Gucci coat and Fendi shades. Ben won’t want to be seen out with someone who looks as if she gets her clothes from thrift stores.’

  Although he always looks as if he shops in them himself, I didn’t like to say. Or if anybody needs a makeover, Ben Fairfax ought to be the first in line.

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ conceded Tess.

  ‘Of course I’m right.’

  ‘I’m still afraid he’ll do his nut.’

  ‘But you might be doing him a favour.’

  ‘What? Rosie, I’ve just spent—’

  ‘Three thousand dollars, give or take.’

  ‘So how—’

  ‘I saw it on an advertising hoarding as we were driving here. Spend three thousand dollars on your Amex Gold this month and get a zillion trillion bonus points.’

  ‘Blimey, Rosie, damn well spotted you! So he should be grateful, shouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, of course he should. He’ll have enough to buy another gadget at a knock-down price or get it free.’

  ‘Let’s get all these babies home,’ said Tess. ‘We’ll have a fashion show.’

  ‘Ben’s invited Pat over on Saturday,’ she told me, as she tried on all the clothes again just to check they fitted and looked right and wouldn’t need to be returned. ‘Poor Professor Riley, he needs cheering up. Ben says Mrs Riley’s being absolutely vile.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ I tried to sound so casual. But my heart began to thump, because I knew I really shouldn’t see Professor Riley. It would not be good for him or me. He should sort his marriage out and I should make some plans about what I was going to do when I got home again. After all, if I was going to sort out other people’s lives, perhaps I ought to sort my own?

  ‘What’s the matter, Rosie?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You’re a million miles away. You’re fidgeting and twitching. You’re talking to yourself.’

  ‘I was just thinking – creatively, you know?’

  ‘Oh, about what happens when you get back to
London, your new job and stuff?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d have said you were indulging in a happy fantasy about Professor Riley.’

  ‘Why would I fantasise about Professor Riley?’

  ‘He might be dull and not have very much to say, but he’s still pretty hot.’

  We spent the whole of the next week just shopping – shopping – shopping and then we shopped some more. Moderation, balance, ha ha ha – balance wasn’t in it.

  I didn’t think it would be possible for somebody like me, who practically lives in Selfridges, in Harvey Nichols and in Harrods, to end up all shopped out. But I was wrong. By Friday afternoon, I had decided I didn’t need to see another Gucci bag, Armani frock or Prada belt again. Or for a few weeks, at any rate.

  Okay, for a few days.

  On Friday evening, Tess announced that in the morning we were going to Red Wing and then on to Winona. The drive would be spectacular, she added, with the trees all starting to turn red and gold and orange in the fall.

  I tried to sound excited, even though I’d seen a zillion autumn leaves before. We do have autumn in the UK too, I wanted to tell Ben, as he went on and on about the beauty of the Mississippi River valley, how I would be blown away. We do have leaves.

  ‘What else is there, apart from leaves?’ I asked.

  ‘Shoes,’ said Tess. ‘There’s a great big factory outlet and I need to get myself some Merrells.’

  ‘You have way too many pairs of shoes, babe,’ muttered Ben, looking up from tapping on his laptop.

  ‘How can anybody have too many pairs of shoes? I’ll need lots of boots for winter, too. You said I’d have to brace myself for winter, for all the ice and snow.’ She turned to me. ‘Rosie love, let’s make a picnic, shall we? Let’s leave Ben to write a few more words and earn a few thousand more dollars.’

  ‘I’m surprised you mentioned shoes,’ I said, when Tess and I were in the kitchen rummaging in the fridge. ‘I thought he was annoyed about your spending?’

  ‘Last night, I did what he’s been nagging me to do for weeks. If he doesn’t kick up a big fuss when I buy lots of shoes tomorrow, I might do it again. Oh, and by the way, Ben’s invited Patrick to come along tomorrow. I hope that’s okay with you?’