Page 26 of The Mistake
‘Come on, chill out. There’s going to be a party.’ Pete grasps her hands and moves as though dancing with her. Natalie pulls away, frowning.
‘Yeah, there’s going to be a party,’ Natalie says. ‘A party I didn’t even want to host, because I’m so bloody tired, and now not a single one of you is helping me, so forgive me if I’m not really in the mood.’
Pete drops his hands and picks up one of the kitchen chairs. ‘Outside is mostly set up,’ he says, his tone sober now. ‘I just need the tablecloth and chairs, and to tie the last of the balloons up. The weather’s brightened up now, so we won’t need the marquee.’
No, they won’t need the marquee. But the ground will still be muddy, and dirt will probably still be tracked all through the house for Natalie to clean up in the morning.
Pete glances at the clock. ‘Where’s Em?’
‘Gone to get her eyelashes done. She’ll be back in a little while, and then she’s just got to get changed.’ Natalie opens another packet of cupcakes, hastily shoving them onto a plate, before rooting through the kitchen drawer to find candles for the main attraction – a three-tier cake with extravagant icing decorations. She looks up as she feels Pete’s eyes on her.
‘What?’
‘Well … it’s half two,’ he says. ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready?’
Erin’s muted grizzling dials up a notch, to that unstable place between a soft cry and full-blown yell. Zadie moans under her breath, clutching her belly, and the oven timer pings again, signalling the next batch of beige food is cooked. Natalie leans down and scoops Erin up, shoving her in Pete’s direction.
‘You’re dead right, Pete,’ she says. ‘I really should be getting ready.’
Upstairs, behind the safety of the closed bedroom door, Natalie stands in front of the wardrobe in her stained grey jogging pants. She has no idea what she’s going to wear to this party. Every day for the last eight months (or ten really, if she’s honest, ever since she went on maternity leave) she’s worn the same three pairs of jogging pants on rotation, switching them out when they get too stained and gross. She pulls out an emerald-green dress, one that is fitted over the bust and then flares at the waist, holding it up to herself before throwing it onto the bed. Her boobs aren’t the same since she stopped feeding Erin. A pink sundress, one shewore religiously on their last holiday to Portugal, strains over her hips when she slips it over her head, and she feels sick as she strips it off again and looks at her body in the full-length mirror. She had always felt quite proud of herself, before Erin. She’d been a regular gym-goer, and even though there was a ten-year gap between Emily and Zadie, she had bounced right back to her usual size after Zadie was born. This time, though … She stands there in her greying knickers and grasps at the handfuls of flesh either side of her waist. She doesn’t seem to have lost any of her baby weight, despite having no appetite and feeling as exhausted as if she’s run a marathon every day. She closes her eyes briefly, blocking out the sight of the thin scar that slices across the skin above her pubic bone, a constant reminder of the traumatic day of Erin’s birth.
The image of Vanessa standing on her doorstep rises in Natalie’s mind and she swallows, not taking her eyes from the mirror. Vanessa hadn’t been what Natalie thought she would be at all. They must be the same age, but where Natalie is soft and rounded,Vanessa is sleek and lean. Where Natalie’s face is pale, a cluster of three tiny spots trying to bloom at her hairline, Vanessa’s skin had been flawless, her make-up perfect, not a hint of her crimson lipstick bleeding from the confines of her lip liner. Her hair was shiny and thick, not frizzy and dry at the ends like Natalie’s, and Natalie feels a sharp pang of envy. When Pete had started work on the contract, Natalie had asked him what Vanessa looked like now, intrigued by this old flame of her husband’s, and Pete had just shrugged.
‘I dunno,’ he’d said. ‘Just … like Vanessa. She’s got brown hair. She wears those stupid shoes with the red bottoms that you’re always going on about, she looks ridiculous on site in them. Not a patch on you, babe.’
Natalie had let him hug her, smiling into his shoulder, but now she thinks Pete must be blind not to have noticed Vanessa’s glamorous appearance.
Moving to the bathroom, Natalie hastily showers, wishing she had time to wash her hair before the guests begin to arrive, and then smears her face with moisturiser, her eyes going to the mirror as she does. Not even the most expensive concealer can hide the dark circles and bags that line her eyes, and she looks away, her gaze going to the box of diazepam hidden behind a box of tampons. She still hasn’t taken any yet, although the thought has crossed her mind more than once, and she still hasn’t told Pete about them. She’s not sure why. She doesn’t think Pete would judge her, although she knows that he thinks depression can be cured by spending time outside (he’s such a dinosaur sometimes), but Natalie also thinks that if she did start taking them, Pete probably wouldn’t even notice.
Even though he’s coming home on time, and he did try and engage with her in the kitchen this morning, Natalie still can’t shake the feeling that ever since Erin was born things haven’t been right between them. When they laid Erin on her chest and Pete cried, Natalie thought that any secret resentment he was holding towards her for carrying on with the pregnancy had disappeared, but now she thinks she was wrong about that. He doesn’t seem to have connected with Erin at all; he claims he doesn’t hear her crying at night, leaving Natalie to get up every time her screams rip through the dark, but Natalie can’t understand how he doesn’t hear it. He’s made more than one bitchy comment about Eve hanging around, and Natalie knows that he probably thinks she’s let herself go, but still he doesn’t step in to help out. She reaches for her make-up bag, making a sorry attempt with the concealer and brushing mascara on to her lashes as she fights back the thought that comes to the forefront on those long, dark, lonely evenings when she’s exhausted and Erin refuses to sleep.It’s almost as if Pete doesn’t want Erin here at all.The terrifying thing about that thought is that somehow, sometimes, Natalie can understand that feeling.
Natalie twists her unwashed hair up into a messy bun, hoping no one will notice the greasy parts, as Pete’s voice filters up the stairs.
‘Nat! Stu and Mari are here!’
Of course they are. Stu and Mari are always the first ones to arrive. Pulling on the pink sundress and smoothing away the wrinkles that stick to her hips, Natalie draws in a deep breath and takes one last look in the mirror.
‘You can do this,’ she whispers, blinking back a sudden spurt of hot tears before her mascara can run. ‘The party will be over soon. Just hang in there for a few more hours.’ And then she hurries down the stairs, a wide smile on her face as she opens her arms to Stu and Mari.
‘Guys! So glad you could make it! We’ve been dying to catch up with you, it’s been way too long.’
Pete
Pete feels relaxed for the first time in months as he steps out into the garden, weaving his way between family and friends, a cold beer in his hands. There was a moment this morning when the rain had thundered down, the sky over the woods dark and foreboding as the wind whipped the trees at the back of the house into a frenzy, where he thought they were going to have to cancel the party, but the storm has passed and the sun beats down overhead, and finally it feels as if summer has arrived. Now, the garden is full of all the people the Maxwell family love, and Pete makes sure to enthusiastically greet everyone as they arrive.
‘Oh, Peter, she’s lovely.’ Mrs Noyce from across the street stops him, a glass of Pimm’s in one hand, the other holding on to her husband, who must be eighty-five if he’s a day. ‘You and Natalie must be over the moon.’ She nods in the direction of two of Natalie’s co-workers cooing over Erin, who has finally stopped grizzling.
‘We’re very lucky.’ He smiles down at her before moving on, clapping Dave the foreman on the back and stooping to kiss Dave’s wife on the cheek. Natalie stands on the fringes of the garden, beneath the old apple tree, and Pete is relieved to see she’s put on some make-up and she’s actually smiling as she talks to the mother of Emily’s oldest friend from school.
Heading into the kitchen to grab some more beers for the ice bucket on the table, Pete winks at Emily as she sips from a glass of champagne, almost colliding with Eve, who enters the garden through the side gate carrying an M&S bag for life stuffed with wine, having clearly cut through the woods from her house.
‘M&S eh, Eve? You really are spoiling us.’ Pete moves asideso Eve can head into the kitchen, as she gives him a tight smile. Pete rolls his eyes. He doesn’thateEve, doesn’t even really dislike her, but he knows that she thinks she’s a cut above him and he’s not good enough for Natalie. He doesn’t really understand why Natalie likes her so much – the woman is always hanging around the house with that judgemental look in her eye, and he knows she’s slagged him off to Natalie behind his back.
‘Pete!’ A hand claps his back as he watches Eve enter the kitchen and he turns to see Stu, wearing a crappy hat with corks hanging from the rim that Pete bought him for a joke about fifteen years ago. ‘Brilliant turnout. And lovely to catch up with you guys. It’s been ages.’
‘Things have been busy, you know?’ Pete isn’t going to elaborate on exactly what he’s been busy doing.
‘I know, mate, but even so. We haven’t seen you and Nat since before Tenerife. Is everything OK with you guys?’ It is unusual for the two couples to go so long without seeing one another. Stu has always been the one whom Pete can talk to about stuff, in the way men don’t usually share. Stu has been there since the first year of uni and he’s gone through everything with Pete, including his break-up with Vanessa at the end of that first year. Pete can’t talk to Stu about what’s been going on, though, and maybe that’s why he’s been unconsciously avoiding him. ‘I thought maybe … well, maybe you guys were offended we went away without you?’
