by Penny Parkes
Beside her, Kate’s mobile vibrated and she glanced briefly at the screen, a small smile quickly extinguished as she tucked it away in her pocket.
‘Duncan?’ Anna asked, watching closely.
‘No. Well, yes actually. He just wondered if I – if we fancied meeting up for a drink.’ Kate shook her head. ‘But I’ll tell him no. Definitely no.’
‘Is he lovely?’ Anna asked. ‘Is he kind and thoughtful and switched on without being arrogant? I’m just saying that if we judged everyone by their little brothers then you yourself would be a sketchy proposition.’ She pulled Kate into a hug. ‘You should go. Go meet him and see if he’s the real deal. If nothing else, we’ve established that I need a role model to guide me.’
Walking back to the house on the Cowley Road, Anna knew she’d made the right call. The selfless call. Yet still she felt adrift without Kate’s certainty and reassurance: all her decisions felt less resolute.
Finding Max sitting on her doorstep, complete with flowers and Prosecco, threw all her good intentions to the wind.
Even as he kissed her neck and pulled her upstairs to bed, even as he gently teased her about the pallor of her skin against his golden tan, she felt herself slipping. Falling in love – or lust – with Max had been a huge emotional risk for her. And, even though it was at last clear to her that it wasn’t working out, it felt like she was already invested.
It felt as though she couldn’t walk away.
‘I love being here with you,’ Max breathed, running kisses down her naked body and making her ache with longing. The closest he ever came to saying those three little words. She ignored the insistent voice in her head that called comparisons with Zermatt and Cannes and Rome, where he’d been whiling away his summer as she pulled pints to pay her bills.
She wanted to believe him.
And even when she woke the next morning, tender yet replete, to an empty space in the bed beside her, she tried to think back to when she’d last felt this close to being loved, simply for being herself.
Not by somebody who was paid to care, but with free will and no agenda.
She couldn’t believe it would be possible for them to have shared such intimacy through the night if the feelings weren’t there all along, whether they vocalised them or not.
She stretched languidly, wondering how Kate’s drink with Duncan had gone, smiling at the thought of the four of them, double-dating, hanging out. Their own little posse like a TV sitcom.
It was only when she got up to get showered that she noticed the gap on her bookshelf.
The gap that, until last night, had housed all of her notes on early medieval literature. The very same module that Max would be re-sitting next week.
Suddenly shivering, she pulled her robe tightly around her and tried not to cry. Could she actually say that she felt used, she wondered, when she’d clearly been so complicit in their all-night shagathon?
Or was she, in fact, just a desperate fool?
Chapter 37
Bath, 2019
The more time she spent with Callie, the more Anna was forced to analyse her own shortcomings and insecurities. The girl was a force of nature and woe betide anyone who stood in her way.
It felt strange to admit even to herself that Callie was inspirational, yet for the first time in a long time, Anna had conversations about The Big Picture. About hope and ambition and where she saw herself in five years’ time.
‘Do they teach you this stuff in school these days?’ Anna asked, as they drove up towards the hospital again the following day, Norbert on the back seat panting by an open window as all the sights, smells and sounds made his ears quiver with delight.
Callie grinned. ‘Nah. I was just born feisty.’ She popped one of the Starbursts from Anna’s glove box in her mouth, puckering her face in disgust. ‘Ew the green ones! When will I learn?’
Anna snorted with laughter, her stomach still aching from the YouTube marathon the night before when Callie had introduced her to all the up-and-coming comedians and their ‘fresh take’ on life in Gen Z.
They had been almost inseparable the last few days. It was an unusual arrangement, to be sure, but every time Anna thought of Callie’s mother sitting watching Neighbours, turning up the volume while Liam belittled and raged at her daughter, she couldn’t bring herself to turn the girl away. It was presumably the same approach that Eleanor had been taking before she went away – and what was her role as house-sitter if not to bring a little continuity of care?
She couldn’t deny that there was a payoff for herself too, though. Without Kate at the end of the phone, the last few weeks had dragged on a little. Without Henry’s company in Dittisham, she would have been hard pushed to keep the demons in her head at bay.
It was as though those demons could sense that their end was nigh, that a change was brewing. There was only so much of her life that Anna was prepared to step away from, in a failed quest to ‘find herself’ – or more specifically – to find the life she wanted to lead.
But being with Callie had finally shone a spotlight on the flaw in her plan: she could only ever be a pale imitation of somebody else, if she used their life, their home, their passions as her template.
‘Be yourself, everyone else is already taken,’ read the Oscar Wilde quote on Callie’s locket.
It was a sentiment that deserved consideration.
And, despite some initial misgivings, Anna had tried very hard to be herself around Callie. To give herself permission to just ‘be’. She wasn’t there to be a role model, or a mentor. And although it had been hard to admit that the years between them should have been a barrier, the simple fact that Anna’s adult life had been on pause for so long meant that they really weren’t that far apart. In thinking, or in working out what they wanted from the world.
‘Do you think Annabel would notice if I pinched one of the mini muffins from the basket?’ Callie asked, her constant teenage hunger already a running joke between them.
‘I think she would,’ Anna replied, easing the Mini into the stream of traffic heading up towards the RUH. ‘I also think she’d be very impressed with our purchases this morning.’ A bookshop carrier bag slid up and down the back seat, filled with chunky, glossy novels that had never once troubled the A level syllabus. ‘But I dibs the one that says “feminist bonkbuster” on the cover.’
Callie laughed. ‘Fine by me. I’m starting with Riders.’ She tipped her head back against the headrest and smiled. ‘You know, Anna. You’re kind of weird, like, the least grown up grown-up I’ve ever met – but I’ve had more fun with you in the last few days than I have in ages.’
Anna pressed one hand to her chest, properly touched. ‘Me too,’ she said seriously. ‘And you’re so annoyingly motivated about life, it’s given me a little kick in the right direction as well.’
Callie beamed. ‘What can I say? I do what I do.’ She reached for the Starburst packet again, before remembering that only the green ones remained. ‘Are you going to stop talking about writing a book and start writing a book then? ’Cause it’s about damn time.’
‘Well, yes actually,’ Anna said, feeling sick with nerves at just the thought. ‘Emily’s lined up a wonderful apartment in Paris for next week. It’s the perfect place to get started – just around the corner from Les Deux Magots – you know, the café where Sartre and Hemingway used to hang out all the time? Although obviously not together.’
‘Paris?’ Callie said. ‘Why do you need to go to Paris to write a book? Why do you need to go anywhere, come to that?’
Anna stilled, her hands perfectly placed at ten and two on the steering wheel. ‘Well, you know, for the vibe – for the inspiration.’
‘That’s bollocks and you know it,’ Callie said bluntly, unwrapping another sweet on autopilot. ‘The only thing you need to write a book is between your own two ears.’
A lump in Anna’s throat stopped her replying immediately as her mind ricocheted between past and present, trying to pin down wh
ere she’d heard those words before.
Mrs Holt.
Mrs Holt, who had made so much sense, yet had still left Anna strangely ill-prepared for what life at Oxford would be like. Indeed, who’d probably had no idea of the insecurities and hurdles that would block Anna’s path along the way. Her own foolish need to be accepted overshadowing any of her hard-won common sense and savvy attitude to life.
‘I guess I’ve just waited so long, that a little cultural catalyst is no bad thing. All things being equal,’ Anna said quietly, deftly reversing into a miniscule space and yanking hard on the handbrake.
‘Is this like when I can’t possibly do my coursework until I’ve got the perfect pen, or the perfect notebook?’ Callie said gently, obviously realising that her flippant comment had been more barbed than supportive. ‘Because if you need professional procrastination advice, then I am clearly your girl.’
‘Oh, honey, you are still firmly in the amateur stakes when it comes to procrastination, avoidance, denial – I have a master’s in self-delusion at this point.’
‘But at least you’re self-aware enough to realise it,’ Callie countered, unable to stop the burst of laughter that followed.
* * *
Seeing Annabel looking so much better, seeing the whole of sunlit Bath laid out below them as they drove back down from the RUH a little later, brushing the chocolate muffin crumbs off her top, Anna could honestly say that she hadn’t had a happier day in a long time.
And it wasn’t because the day had been decadent or blissfully vacation-like; indeed, it was the sheer ordinariness that had touched her so deeply.
Life in Bath, without any glamour or Frette sheets, held an appeal that went beyond bookshops, pavement cafés and glorious Georgian architecture. Her stomach ached from laughing – and possibly a surfeit of muffins – and her mind felt free and unstymied.
The appeal of Paris as the springboard for the next phase of her life had been so logical, but right now, the notion of needing such a catalyst felt naive. It was, as Callie had so astutely pointed out, exactly what teenage Anna would have done: make sure everything was in place before even beginning. Despite the obvious flaw that had been her undoing on so many occasions – the ‘perfect’ situation just didn’t exist.
And yet, nearly ten years later, this salient point was only just sinking in.
‘You know,’ said Callie as they squeezed the Mini into a ridiculously small space across the road from the flat, ‘I think we make a good team, you and me.’
‘We do,’ Anna agreed, cranking the steering wheel hard left and willing the Mini to oblige; the Tesla SUV parked behind them probably cost more than she dared contemplate.
‘So, I’ve been thinking that, if you set up home somewhere – like, properly bit the bullet and committed to your writing for a bit – then I should come with you.’
Anna’s foot slipped off the clutch in surprise and the Mini gave a nerve-wracking leap forward, barely missing a glossy BMW. ‘Say what?’
Callie simply nodded, as though they were discussing the benefits of getting take-out for supper. ‘Yeah. I mean, I’m not really a child. I just need an adult willing to be my guardian while I do my A levels. You wouldn’t have to adopt me or anything. And, if I’m honest, Anna, I am all out of options. This is kind of a Hail Mary pass for me.’ She swallowed hard. ‘So no pressure or anything.’
‘I—’ began Anna and then stopped, the naked hope and vulnerability on Callie’s face cutting short her immediate, instinctive refusal. ‘Look, I get that sounds attractive, but I am seriously not parent material, Cal. I’m barely capable of taking care of myself. The Avon and Somerset Police agree, remember – homeless. Might as well read “useless”. I’m sorry.’
‘You’re “homeless” by choice though, aren’t you, so you can go travelling around wherever you like. Footloose and fancy-free. Yeah? But you’ve also spent the better part of the week talking about writing, thinking about writing but barely actually picking up a pen.’
Anna breathed out slowly, wanting to protest, but knowing that her abortive efforts in the café the other morning hardly counted as committing to the process.
‘So,’ Callie continued, undaunted, ‘you could hole up somewhere for a bit, and I could come too. It sounds complicated, but it really isn’t, is it? We would just have to decide to do it and then – well, you know – actually do it.’
Anna reached out and took her hand, her focus distracted for a moment by the puzzling enigma that Callie seemed to be – so forthright and focused, yet still so clearly adrift and looking for an anchor. She was almost winded by the surge of empathy; her teenage self so similar to Callie she felt the emotions as keenly as though they were her own.
‘You know I’ll help, Callie. When I leave on Friday, it really isn’t goodbye and I will honestly be there, at the end of the phone, or whenever you need me. But I am not the right fit for this. I’m too – well…’ She sighed. ‘Look, I don’t think it’s especially healthy for someone who’s essentially a bit broken to delude themselves that they’re in a position to help anybody.’
‘That’s bollocks and you know it!’ Callie burst out, turning in her seat, hemmed in by the confines of the Mini, her voice echoing loudly. ‘I have never met ANYONE,’ she shouted, ‘who understood what I was feeling like you do. Because you’ve been there. Kind of. Eleanor hasn’t, Richard hasn’t – they’re lovely people who want to help me and I appreciate it, but they have no fucking clue how deep the hurt runs. How fucked up this whole situation is, when someone like me has no chance of choosing a different life, because I’m thwarted at every stage by ignorant bastards. The kind of people who don’t want anything more in life than somewhere to live and enough cash to get drunk at the pub or head to the bookies on a Saturday morning.
‘Anna,’ she pleaded. ‘I want more!’
Anna simply nodded. ‘And the very fact that you do is something to be proud of, Callie. And you know that I think you’re right. Mrs Holt was right too. Education is the silver bullet – it’s the way to change your life. And okay, yeah, I’ll be the first to admit that I hit pause for a bit too long and lost my way, but getting to university, getting a degree… These are the things that make a difference. And I will help you any way I can.’
‘Except the way I want?’ Callie finished, visibly slumping in her seat. ‘I get it. You don’t owe me anything. Hell, a week ago you’d never even heard of me. And I know that. I just – well, I just thought it was better to ask than spend every day of the next two years wondering “what if?”.’
Callie grabbed her bag from by her feet and paused for a second, before getting out of the car and just walking away, leaving the door wide open behind her and Anna’s mind in turmoil.
Chapter 38
Bath & London, St Pancras, 2019
The guilt sat heavy with Anna that evening, unable to muster the enthusiasm to cook a solo meal. Even delicious Stilton crumbled onto crackers, slices of a ripe, fresh pear and some densely rich Medjool dates failed to lift her spirits, as she munched them, perched on the deep Georgian windowsill, The Circus swooping away from her into the twilight.
Tonight – her last night in Bath – was supposed to have been so very different.
And it wasn’t that Anna was unaccustomed to saying goodbye and moving on, although it was never easy. But this week, here, in Bath? It had been such a different experience – mainly due to a grumpy teenager and a redoubtable pensioner taking on a bus.
It wasn’t the kind of thing one could predict, yet it seemed to be exactly what she’d needed.
She had felt part of something; useful, appreciated.
Progress.
She’d made great strides on other fronts too. Ulysses now allowed her to stroke his dense, lustrous fur as he slept in the evenings, without lashing out and drawing blood, although he would still offer an occasional warning hiss that kept her on her toes.
And with the flat so compact and pristine, she’d even stepped back
from the endless loop of locking up at night. Half tempted, in fact, to leave the front door ajar in case Callie should need her.
She’d also been sucked into Annabel’s parallel universe of reading; Eleanor’s leather-bound classics ignored in favour of glitz and glamour. If only she’d realised sooner how easy it would be to travel the world and experience the highs and lows of other lives, contemporary lives, through the medium of books, then all her choices might have been so different.
While the classics had fed and nurtured her soul for so long, it was these novels – the kind she’d always eschewed – that now lifted her spirits, offered her companionship and also a certain kind of hope.
Hope that came from knowing that she wasn’t alone. Hurdles came in many forms and she was fortunate in having managed to scale so many, but not without cost.
Her self-esteem was in tatters. Losing a few pounds and buying a killer outfit, as the women in these books tended to do, was hardly going to be her personal salvation. And yet…
And yet, there was something to be said for getting up off the mat and saying, ‘Enough. Hear me roar.’
There had been far too little roaring in Anna’s life since she left Oxford.
She’d actually been hoping that she and Callie might proverbially ‘roar’ together, but it seemed she couldn’t offer what Callie needed, and so that was that.
There was no arguing or shouting from upstairs – a reliable indicator that she wasn’t at home – so who knew where the girl had disappeared to. Call after call, text after text, went unanswered, even the ones offering as much remote support as Anna felt she could possibly commit to.
Packing her bag so that she was ready for an early departure the next day, Anna realised that watching Callie stride away from her car might really, truly be the last time she ever saw her. It wasn’t as though their paths would ever cross again, no matter how many times they’d bumped into each other in Bath this week. Small city, it was bound to happen, yet Anna had come to rely upon it, to relish the prospect.