Suddenly, waiting seemed ridiculous. Ben would be up now, and if he wasn’t, well, it was too bad. People who send mysterious messages at 1 a.m. didn’t deserve lie-ins of any sort. She was going to ring him, she decided, putting her coffee down and racing into the house – as if racing somehow would make a difference when it was almost seven hours since his message had been sent.
Ben’s phone wasn’t switched off at least. But after eight or nine rings it clicked onto his phone’s answering service. She tried again, perhaps he hadn’t heard the first time? But once again the call was interrupted by a generic woman asking her to leave a message.
Lily knew he rarely checked his voicemail, always assuming the person would ring back if they needed to. But left a message anyway.
‘Ben, listen. Could you call me, as soon as you get this. Nothing’s wrong. I just… I just want to speak to you quickly,’ she said, not wanting to alarm him.
She hung up, then dialled Emily. Uncharacteristically, her friend’s phone was firmly turned off. Mind you, it was early.
She was probably only worried because it was the day of the party and she had so much nervous energy, Lily reassured herself, dialling Ben again just in case. Ben would answer in a minute then her worry would be replaced with relief and probably a bit of anger.
But again the phone rang out. She’d wait a few minutes and try again. He was probably in the shower or still snoozing and couldn’t hear his phone. But once again she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease.
Knowing this wouldn’t go down well at such an early hour but not completely caring, she rang Ty.
Thankfully, he answered. ‘Wha—?’ he said, sleepily.
‘Ty, love, it’s me. Mum,’ she said.
He grunted. ‘I know. What’s up?’
‘Nothing. Everything’s OK. I know I’m ringing a little… earlier than normal.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he said, clearly mid-yawn.
‘But…’ She chose her words carefully, not wanting to alarm Ty. ‘I’m trying to get hold of your dad, but his phone’s ringing out. I just wondered whether you could give him a nudge for me.’
‘A nudge? What, a text?’
‘No, Ty,’ she said, exasperated, ‘I mean get out of bed and just pop along and give him a knock.’
‘Mum, I’m at Steve’s.’
‘Oh.’ Steve was Ty’s friend and lived fifteen miles away. ‘Why?’
‘What? Just because!’ he said, incredulous that she was asking. Rightly so, too, as he probably slept there almost as much as he did at home these days. But why today?
‘OK,’ she said. ‘Listen, Ty, I’m probably being silly, but when you saw Dad yesterday, was anything… well, was he OK?’
‘Why?’ he said, sounding guarded.
‘Oh, no reason. Just… you know, checking up on him. I mean, I still care about your dad, you know.’
There was a silence.
‘He’s… well, look,’ Ty said. ‘He’s OK.’
‘You don’t sound sure?’
Ty sighed deeply. ‘Look, Mum, you need to speak to him yourself.’
‘I have tried, Ty. I’m not… I just want to know he’s OK, that nothing’s… going on.’
Another silence in which she felt a spike of anxiety.
‘I’m not meant to talk about it,’ he said, finally. ‘He did tell me… something yesterday. But it was private. He made me promise.’
‘Talk about what? Come on, Ty?’
‘No, look, I promised, OK?’
‘So something is going on?’
A sigh. ‘Well, yeah. But you know…’
‘No, I don’t…’ She tried to keep the note of panic from her voice. ‘Ty, I think you have to tell me. If your dad… well, if something’s going on, I have a right to know.’
‘I can’t,’ he said simply.
‘Well, tell me if he’s OK?’
Another silence. ‘Mum, I’m sorry. I just… you need to talk to Dad.’
They hung up moments later, and she immediately dialled Ben’s number.
Nothing.
Emily’s number.
Nothing.
What had started as a mild concern was blown into something more by the silence; the lack of clarity.
Ty would surely tell her if something was really wrong. He’d want her to help. But at the same time, was her eighteen-year-old properly able to recognise if Ben was in a really bad place? Would he really know when it was time to call for backup? It was certainly unusual for Ben to confide something in his son then ask him not to tell anyone else.
Part of the problem had been that she hadn’t wanted to alarm Ty. His dad might be ill, or struggling in a way he might not understand. So her questions had had to be vague, and his answers had been just as unfathomable. There were all different kinds of ‘OK’.
She rang Ben’s phone again.
Nothing.
This was ridiculous. She was working herself up about nothing! After all, Ben had people around him – Emily had been popping over regularly and she’d reported that he was out and about, seeing a counsellor, making it to work but not letting it consume him. That he wasn’t ‘out of the woods’ but well and truly on the mend.
And what? One missed call and she was panicking.
She scrolled through her phone to Ben’s mum. But what was she going to say to Maureen? Get her to race over thirty miles because her son wasn’t answering a call from his ex-wife?
The feeling of anxiety still thundered inside her, but she tried to put it into context. She’d woken anxious after a dream, she had a big and daunting day ahead. Yes, it was natural to worry about Ben, but her worry had been overblown by the feeling of fear she was already experiencing.
Maybe he hadn’t answered because he just didn’t want to speak to her.
He was probably out for the day, or catching up with work and preoccupied with some sort of spreadsheet related conundrum. The text message had meant nothing. He’d probably forgotten he’d even sent it and would think she was crazy for reading too much into it. Ringing him four times? Ringing their son? She was overreacting.
It was just a feeling. It didn’t mean anything. Ben would be fine.
It struck her that other than Emily, there was no one else she could really call about this. Nobody whose opinion she’d want to ask. Nobody who knew Ben. Nobody she really felt able to properly confide in.
David, in Australia, might be sympathetic but wouldn’t understand. Ty would be frantic if he knew how worried she was, but didn’t have the age or experience to help.
Memories of calling Mum in the past flooded her mind – times when she was worried about Ty, or had had a fight with Ben; when she was waiting on medical test results, or stressed about work. Everyone thinks their mum is the best mum, don’t they? But to have a mother you could call any time, day or night, who would always seem pleased to hear from you, would always have advice to dispense – perhaps not always the advice she’d wanted to hear, but advice nonetheless - she’d been so, so lucky.
Mum would have known what to do now.
Her eyes began to fill with tears and she coughed them away. This was ridiculous. It was the day of the party – a day of celebration. And what? One text message sent in error and suddenly she was approaching emotional collapse?
The grief for Mum would never leave her, the grief at her and Ben breaking up was still raw too. But this wasn’t the time for grief. There was so much to celebrate too. She’d just woken up on the wrong side of bed.
Shaking her head, she put her phone down and purposefully turned over the screen so she couldn’t glance at it for a bit. Instead, she made her way upstairs and began to fill the bath. It was going to be a long day, so she should take a bit of relaxation where she could.
35
‘Wine?’
‘Ah, yes please,’ she said, settling down on the bench in their back garden. ‘Fill it up!’
‘Long day?’
‘Something like that.’
It was bright, but chilly; she pulled her cardigan more closely around her shoulders. ‘Just think,’ she said. ‘When we move to France, we’ll be able to do this every evening. Without a cardigan.’
‘I think they still have winters in France.’
‘OK, in front of roaring log fires too then.’
‘Sounds perfect.’ They clinked their glasses together and fell into silence.
‘Ben,’ she asked. ‘When do you think we might do it?’
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘But one day. Definitely one day.’
She couldn’t have hoped for better weather. The garden was flooded with sunlight, but the temperature remained a pleasant twenty-four degrees, meaning she wouldn’t have to worry about her lack of sunshades as her guests probably wouldn’t feel the need to crowd under the meagre shadows cast by the pine trees at the end of her garden. The weather forecast had predicted showers later, but without a cloud visible in the sky she was pretty confident they were set for the next few hours.
The food – such as it was – was ready. She’d opened packets and jars, tipped salads into plastic bowls, covered pots with cling film and everything was ready to be served. She’d even managed to fit four bottles of wine into the fridge, and there were more lined up ready to replace them once the party started.
Sam’s car drew up outside at exactly 12.59, and she opened the door as Claudine and Derek rushed past her legs. Sam, brandishing two bottles of champagne, hurried up the path behind them.