by Elena Wilkes
As a result, it was Emma who persuaded me to put in for a transfer when a vacancy came up in her office; it was Emma who told me what to say in the interview and told Viv, the boss, she’d heard on the grapevine that I was brilliant. I don’t think I mentioned whippets or fried potatoes or curry in that conversation, and I certainly don’t think even Emma realised the extent of the favour she’d done me. She never knew how grateful I was that I was finally able to run away – even if it was mostly from myself.
* * *
The taxi dropped me outside the pub just as the first few spots of rain hit the pavement and I pushed through the doors. It was one of those wonderful old Yorkshire pubs with a wide bar and wood panelling, its big crackling fire roaring in an ornate black grate. I was greeted by a madly waving arm.
‘You made it!’ Emma’s moony face grinned up at me as I squeezed into the table by the window. ‘A log fire in April! Shit, you can tell we’re in Yorkshire can’t you? My meeting was great by the way!’ She lifted up and rattled a posh-looking carrier bag. ‘How was yours?’
‘Don’t ask a single thing.’ I dropped my coat and briefcase onto a spare chair and exhaled heavily. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Talk to me about stuff that’s got nothing to do with work.’
She pushed a chinking vodka and tonic across the table at me. ‘No probs. Get that one down you while I show you my latest purchases. Look at this—’ she reached into the carrier and pulled out a black and shiny top to go with all the other black and shiny tops she’d got. ‘Half price! I’m going to wear it when I meet Connor tonight…’
‘Connor?’ I looked at her in surprise. ‘You mean Connor Connor?’ I took a long swig of vodka and tonic as things began to fall into place. ‘So he’s up here too, then? Ah, that explains it – and there’s me thinking you were desperate to come on a jolly with your lovely mate. I wondered why you were so keen to volunteer to come with me on a visit to sunny Yorkshire when you could’ve stayed basking in even sunnier Hackney. I might’ve guessed.’ I took another swig. The cold drink slipped down deliciously.
‘I did want to come up here with my lovely mate!’ she protested. ‘And you know how much I love the cold and rain! I just thought while I was up here with you, I might as well…’ she waggled her head comically.
‘What are you like?’ I gave her an old-fashioned look and took another long slurp. A half-melted ice cube tinkled dully down the side of the glass. Connor was her latest. The latest in a long line of lying charmers who treated women like shit.
‘Let me get you another of those,’ she nodded pushing her chair back.
‘Guilty conscience?’ I grinned.
‘No! He’s up here with the Prison Inspectorate. He’s been off doing his inspectoring thing, and I did my obligatory prison visit and then I went shopping. Who could possibly find anything wrong with that?’ She batted her eyelashes.
‘His wife, maybe?’
‘Ex-wife.’
‘Ex-wife in the same house.’ I picked up my glass and let the ice cube slither into my mouth, crunching it loudly.
She flapped her hand. ‘Anyway, anyway… Guess what?’ She paused for dramatic effect.
‘I’m guessing you’re not getting that other drink.’
‘I’m being serious!’
I sighed. ‘Go on then. Tell me.’
‘He’s moving out and moving in!’
I literally felt my mouth open. ‘Moving out? What, you mean out from wifey’s?’
She grinned wildly and nodded.
‘And moving in? With you, you mean?’
She started babbling on, ten to the dozen, describing the row he’d had with ‘that cow’, what he’d said, what the cow had said, all the complications running in together as I desperately tried to unscramble the very convoluted story.
‘Anyway, anyway, that’s not all. Guess the other thing?’
‘I really can’t.’
‘He’s looking into emigrating to New Zealand. Their Corrections department is looking for people just like him!’
‘And?’ I felt a quiet tickle of apprehension.
‘He wants me to go too.’
I shook my head slowly.
‘Can you believe it?’ she beamed.
‘But you said no?’
‘No… I mean, no, I said yes!’
‘You can’t do that—’ the words came out in a kind of choke that shocked us both.
‘Oh Lucy!’ She put her hand on mine and I pulled it away. ‘Don’t look so upset! Luce!… Lucy!…’
I could hear her voice but it felt very far away. She went on about how it wasn’t for another six months, and that they would need to sort his divorce out and the finances. There was his house to sell… and that would probably take forever… All I could think was that I was losing the one and only person in my life, really. There was no one else, no one I cared about… not since…
‘Anyway, haven’t you got a relation in Australia or somewhere?’
I sniffed and nodded. ‘Perth, yeah—’
‘Well then!’
‘Well then, what?’
I bit the inside of my lip, hard, and fiercely brushed the stinging tears away.
‘It’s so not like you!’ She rummaged in her bag for a tissue as I struggled to collect myself.
‘Ignore me, really.’ I took it, dabbing my face and blowing my nose. ‘Too many awful prisoners telling me too many awful things, that’s all. A shitty day, that’s all.’
‘You never have shit days, Luce. Oh, apart from…’ she reached forward and extracted a bit of tissue from my lip ‘… when you look like you’ve got snot on your face.’ She made me laugh and almost set me off again. What was this all about? Why was I so upset? Was it just the thought of the months, probably years without her, or had Gould got to me more than I thought? A surge of emotions tumbled one after the other. I hated being up here again; I saw my old life spooling out behind me: old wounds, old shames that dogged me wherever I went.
I’d have to deal with it sooner or later.
Emma downed the rest of her drink and glanced at her watch, nodding at my glass. ‘Are you ready for the other one now?’
‘One?’ I pulled myself together. ‘Tell them I’ll have the whole bottle.’ I gave her a watery smile to show just how fine I was. ‘Are we eating here?’ I glanced round. ‘It looks okay.’
‘Christ Luce, I’ve just realised what an arse I am—Err… Like, I said I’d meet Connor,’ she winced apologetically. ‘I know I should’ve said… you probably assumed, quite rightly that—’
‘Stop, Em.’ I put my hand out and she paused. ‘Honestly, you seeing Connor tonight is no problem. I’d say if it was – I really would.’
‘Would you, though? You look a bit teary—’
‘Well that was just the shock announcement of you moving to the other side of the world,’ I felt my chin wobble again but managed to halt it and give her a crooked smile. ‘You’re right; it’s months away yet, we’ve got loads of time, and absolutely, I should take the opportunity to visit and go and see my brother.’
‘You sure?’
‘More than,’ I patted anxiously under my eyes. ‘God, what a sight I must be. I bet I’ve gone all mottled.’
She tipped her head on one side and peered at me. ‘Nah, only… um… a bit corned beef-y.’
‘Thanks for the frank assessment,’ I laughed, grabbing my bag and looking for the loo. ‘I’ll go and re-grout the gaps. Watch that lot, will you?’
I left my briefcase and coat on the seat and headed for the Ladies’, squeezing past a couple of guys in suits, muttering the usual sorry, sorry, hoping they wouldn’t notice my wrecked face, and then got the weird feeling I was being watched.
There was a man leaning against the bar. He caught my eye and looked away shocked, as if he knew me. I instinctively paused: lop-sided face, slanted mouth, long nose. Did I know him? Then I realised, awkwardly, that I didn’t. How embarrassing! I felt his darting gaze as I leaned into the doo
r to make a swift exit.
Shunting the lock across, I sank down onto the toilet seat and rested my head against the paper dispenser. Its cool metal edge dug into my temple: hard and soothing. Why the hell was I so rattled? It wasn’t just Emma, or Simon bloody Gould, it was being back in this town: this whole damn area. I’d watched all those names – Bramham, Tadcaster, Towton – on the road signs skimming by the taxi window, bringing back places I didn’t want to remember, things I’d tried so hard to forget, but his place wasn’t going to let me. It had to remind me of all the crosses I was supposed to bear, the weight of them dragging me down further and further, forcing me to see myself and the people I thought I’d left behind.
People like my mother.
The sadness of her face the day I left. The shame of my behaviour scouring my cheeks into red rawness. How could I have just gone like that? But I knew I had to for my own sanity. I made the telephone calls to home the same time every week: the duty ones, asking the right questions and carefully listening to the answers, offering up all the right noises, but giving nothing of myself. But now here I was – having to see her and face it all again.
And then there was Louise. Mustn’t forget Louise. Only five years older but it always felt like fifty. My big sister with that look plastered on her face, the ‘soyouthinkyoucanwaltzinherewithyourfancyclothesandposhaccentdoyou?’ expression. My big sister, who finely combed through every conversation for details to be brought up months or maybe even years later – looking for those deliberate intonations and slights to prove what a truly selfish, self-absorbed bitch of a daughter I really was.
What would I say to either of them? That I’m sorry, Lou, for leaving you to deal with everything. And I’m sorry, Mam, for abandoning you, even though you haven’t got a fucking clue who I am now and you were never really interested in me in the first place…
I pushed the hair out of my eyes and sat up straight. None of it made one hoot of difference. I couldn’t have stayed, anyway. There was no option. I had to leave Yorkshire. I had no choice.
Dan had seen to that.
Threading my way self-consciously back through the bar, I made my way back to my seat, glancing once to see if the bloke was still there. He wasn’t. I was almost disappointed. No one had taken a second look at me in a very long time. Emma was sitting at the table trying to put her lipstick on using a chrome salt cellar as a mirror.
‘Jesus, Em!’
‘What?’ She smacked her lips together decisively. ‘Oh, you look brighter! Less corned beef, more ham on the bone.’
I poked my tongue out at her, snatching a quick look back at the bar as I sat down.
‘Someone caught your eye?’ she squinted playfully.
‘No.’ I flicked my hair back. ‘I just went to the loo, that’s all.’ I picked up my drink and made a ‘cheers’ motion. ‘To new beginnings, then?’ I grinned and she chinked her glass against mine and grinned back.
‘You could do with someone in your life again, you know.’
‘Could I?’ I took a sip, aware that she was studying me. ‘I feel far too old for all that.’
‘You’re only thirty-bloody-four!’ she barked a laugh like a seal. ‘There’s plenty of men about! They’re a bit like shoes: you buy a pair, find they’re a bit tight, or too loose, or go saggy after a while…’
I laughed. ‘Yeah, alright! I get the picture, it’s just a bit visual!’
‘So you go and get more, don’t you? Forget that last bloke, what was his name again… Dan, wasn’t it? Dan, Dan, the complicated man.’ She shook her head. ‘We’ve all had one of those. They appear to be one kind of person but actually they’re another.’
I nodded and gave a wan smile. Yep, that was him. This kind of man who asks loads of questions – who comes over like a sensitive kind of guy, who really wants to get to know you, you think. You’re right; he does. And then he uses what he knows against you. ‘Don’t ever fall in love,’ he joked with me once. ‘It makes you too vulnerable.’
‘You want someone who’s nice, funny, caring, a bit mad…’ Emma mused. ‘Someone a bit like me.’ She cocked an eyebrow suggestively.
‘You’re forgetting I’ve sat in your bathroom when you’ve been shaving your legs,’ I pulled a face. ‘Sorry. You’ve gone and spoiled the mystery now.’
‘Ah. Shame.’
‘Anyway. What time was your dinner date?’
‘Bugger!’ She leapt up and then glanced around, giggling. ‘Oops! Was that a bit loud?’
‘Go on,’ I shook my head laughing. ‘Have a lovely time.’
‘But what about you?’ She looked genuinely concerned.
‘I am going to spoil myself, actually.’ I gave her a snooty look. ‘I’m going to go back to the hotel, have a long bath with bubbles and possibly a glass of wine, and then order the nicest room service meal that our meagre expenses allowance can stretch to. And then, finally, as an end to a perfect evening, I shall get into bed and watch reality shite on TV to make me feel better about my own shite reality. What could be nicer?’
She looked relieved. ‘Sounds good. See you then.’ She bent to kiss me goodbye.
‘Have fun,’ I grinned, watching her scurry happily towards the door, peering into the street for a second before pulling out her umbrella.
The smile fell from my face. I picked up my drink and drank the rest of it slowly. I watched the gay yellow and blue stripes of her brolly bob past the window and felt my heart contract. I wasn’t going to do anything of the sort. I was probably going to go back to the hotel, type up the notes from my meeting with Simon Gould, and then send them to Viv. I was even going to say in the email that I thought Gould was ‘over familiar’ and I believed it would be more appropriate if a man dealt with him from now on. That would wipe the smirk off his face. It was just a shame I wouldn’t get a chance to see it.
Gathering my things together, I picked up my briefcase and glanced up as the door pushed open. A man and a woman clattered in, all breathless and giggly, their coat shoulders darkened with rain. A memory of me and Dan caught in a rainstorm suddenly ached as a brilliant flash of lightening lit the doorway and a gust of wet whistled through the gap. I was going to get soaked but I didn’t care. I stood, pulling on my coat and wondering if I had my umbrella. I stepped back.
‘Arrgh!’
My heel trod heavily into someone as I barged awkwardly into the poor person standing behind me.
‘Oh God! I’m so sorry!’ I wheeled round. ‘I didn’t know you were—’
The man was pulling a tortured comic face, and I realised with a jolt of embarrassment who it was.
Mr Lopsided.
He smiled his funny smile. ‘I was going to say, “don’t worry, I’ve got another,” but—’ He gazed down at his shoes and my eyes followed his. There was a definite dented scuff mark on the toes of both.
I looked up, horrified. ‘Oh hell, I’m so sorry!’
His eyes swivelled sideways and I realised he was holding out a half empty beer glass with a large brown stain seeping slowly into the cuff of his shirt.
‘Oh God! Have I done that?’ It was a ridiculous question and one I clearly knew the answer to.
‘Please don’t apologise. It was an accident—’ he attempted to shake off the worst of it. It wasn’t working. His eyes caught mine and he grinned. ‘You caught me good and proper! I have to give you that.’
His laughing eyes were the colour of newly burned ash. I must have looked mortified, but he only shook his head. ‘Seriously, it’s not a huge problem, but would you do me a very big favour?’
‘Of course, of course,’ right now I would do anything he asked.
‘Would you look after this…’ he put what remained of his pint on the table. ‘… And this…’ He peeled off his jacket and shook it out, peering at the wet sleeve suspiciously before laying it on the back of the chair. ‘I think my shirt bore the worst of it. Please don’t feel bad… it’s honestly no big deal but if I could just rinse it now, maybe I won’
t have to smell like a brewery all evening?’ He smirked and began to unbutton the soggy cuff.
‘Yes! Absolutely!’ I pulled off my coat and it came away with the sleeve inside out. ‘No problem. Take as long as you like.’ I sat awkwardly on the edge of the seat, not knowing where to look as he wandered off. I didn’t know what to do with myself: putting my elbow on the table and then taking it off again – I didn’t dare watch the door of the Gents in case that just looked weird too, so I pointedly stared at the floor. Eventually he appeared, clutching a wad of paper towel and dabbing at his wrist. I immediately stood up, far too hastily and then immediately thought that came over as rude.
‘Are you heading off?’ The wet stained cuff sagged horribly against his wrist. ‘It still looks a bit dodgy out there—’ he dipped his head and peered through the window.
‘Yes… I mean no… I’m—Oh gosh, look… Umm… Could I offer the cost of the dry cleaning or something? It looks a bit—’ I gestured weakly. ‘Is it ruined?’
‘No, no, it’s perfectly fine – Absolutely no professional assistance required—’ he wrinkled his nose as he sniffed at his sleeve. ‘Mmm… I’ve gone from Black Sheep bitter to a very pungent grapefruit and pot pourri. Maybe I should have stuck with the beer…’
He saw the look on my face. ‘Oh look, I’m joking! I’m joking! Please! Think no more of it… and seriously if you don’t have to be anywhere important, you might think—’ He nodded over. The rain was twisting in skeins down the glass, with an occasional gusting splatter that sounded like thrown gravel.
‘So do you?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Have to be somewhere?’ I realised he was smiling.
‘No.’
‘I’m Paul, by the way.’ He held out his hand, ‘Oh! Mind the sog.’
The heat of it was warm and welcoming and I managed a smile. ‘And I’m Lucy.’
‘I think I might just get another drink,’ he eyed his dreg-filled glass ruefully.