Perfect Day

romantic view of human nature.’
    ‘You’re not indifferent to Alexander,’ Frances says, refusing, as usual, to analyse her own behaviour. ‘Alexander’s not someone you could be indifferent to.’
    ‘No. Not indifferent. If I were indifferent, then there really wouldn’t be any point. It’s more like weariness... I’m weary of his moods, his silences. What I used to find so thrilling about him was the way he kind of simmered. You just knew there was so much lying beneath and it was a challenge whether you could unlock it, you know?’
    Frances is nodding again.
    ‘That’s what made him so attractive. Lucy put it really well the other day. We were reading a story which had a volcano in it, and she wanted to know what a volcano was. So I told her that it’s a mountain that has fire inside and sometimes it just can’t keep it in, so it explodes. Lucy turned to me and said, “Daddy is a volcano.” ’
    ‘Bless!’
    ‘I think she meant his temper, but it didn’t used to be just his anger. It used to be his wit, his laughter... his passion...’ Nell’s voice trails away. ‘But now that’s all locked up, and I can’t seem to release it...’
    ‘Why do you think he’s so buttoned up?’ Frances asks.
    ‘His mother,’ Nell says immediately. ‘I mean, I know my mother has her moments and everything, but his mother was truly awful.’ She giggles nervously. It feels disrespectful to speak ill of the dead, but it’s still horribly good to say it.
    ‘I know I only met her when she was ill, but she hung around Alexander like a leech, and the more he was with her, the more he closed down. Then she died, and I think he was in such pain, he decided not to love anyone again. And then Lucy nearly dying too. He just switched off his capacity to love.’
    ‘People don’t do that,’ Frances protests.
    ‘They do. Subconsciously, maybe even consciously...’
    Tears begin to slide down Nell’s cheeks. She turns her face inland so that Lucy won’t see her crying.
    ‘I know, because I could have done it. In the hospital, when Lucy had come through but they were still observing her. They kept telling us how careful we were going to have to be. They were all so serious about it. I remember thinking, they’ve got grave faces, and then trying to erase the thought because of that word, grave. You get superstitious when you’re stressed out with anxiety.’
    She pauses, watching Frances ’s face.
    ‘... Later that evening, when I was on my own with her, I was looking at her, and I thought, I don’t know if I am strong enough to get through every day being frightened that I’m going to lose you. I knew at that point I could just decide not to love her so much...’
    Frances is still silent, as if she’s waiting for the punchline to a long anecdote.
    ‘That’s it?’ she says finally.
    ‘Yes.’
    Nell’s never told anyone before, and now she has, she’s not sure why it seems such a big deal.
    ‘But you didn’t make that decision,’ says Frances .
    ‘She smiled at me. She gave me this really big smile, as if she’d read my mind and wanted to say, we’ll get through this, and I knew that I couldn’t let her down.’
    Frances doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then she puts her arm round Nell’s shoulders. ‘I never knew it was like that,’ she says simply.
    For a second, Nell lets her body relax into Frances , who sits very straight, supporting her weight. Nell thinks , my friend is supporting me. It’s the first time she’s truly understood the expression.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ Abruptly, Lucy turns round and sees her leaning on Frances , sobbing.
    They spring apart like teenage lovers caught in a clandestine embrace.
    ‘Nothing, darling,’ calls Nell.
    ‘Well, have a happy face ,’ Lucy urges.

    ‘Are you angry with Alexander?’ Frances asks.
    ‘No,’ Nell says.
    ‘I would be,’ says Frances .
    ‘I feel sorry for him. It must be horrible to feel so isolated. Sometimes I think that he’s still in a state of post-traumatic shock.’
    ‘He has you.’
    ‘Yes, but I’m part of the problem.’
    ‘Problem? I think you’re a saint!’ Frances says.
    ‘Oh, I’m not at all saintly, actually,’ Nell says.
    ‘You’re too nice,’ says Frances .
    ‘God, I hate it when people tell me that,’ Nell says, crossly.
    ‘Alexander was always a loner,’ Frances muses. ‘It was so weird when you got off with him. Nobody had ever seen him have a relationship with anyone