Worn Out Wife Seeks New Life

by Carmen Reid

  They were so big, so heavy, she worried they were going to knock her over.

  ‘Down now, down,’ she said in the firm-but-fair voice she’d not had to use since Bella was a very young dog.

  ‘Down!’

  Finally, the dogs seemed to get the message.

  Why were there dogs here? Was she sure she was in the right place? But the keys had opened the door. Dogs…

  It felt like about 100 hours since she’d had any sleep, or anything nice to eat and she could not cope with great big, surprise, bouncy dogs, not just right at this moment.

  She wheeled the suitcase through the wide entrance space that was home to a dining table, chairs and a whole lot of coat and shoe clobber and into a spacious open-plan living space with a kitchen along the left-hand side. It should have been a wonderful space, with its huge window leading out onto a balcony, but to Tess’s dismay, it was an absolutely astonishing mess. She actually gasped out loud at the state of the place.

  The two sofas were piled high with books and papers, shoes and clothes. The kitchen counters were just as cluttered with dirty pots, plates and glasses, gadgets and more stacked bundles of papers, newspapers, magazines, mail and books.

  There was a desk near the window that was completely covered, almost a foot high in paper, and there was a further jumble of books and clobber stacked underneath it. Everywhere, there were ashtrays piled high with butts. And worse, foil food trays with the congealed remains of meals had been used as ashtrays too. Tess was afraid to go into the bedroom or the bathroom because of what she suspected she would find there. Okay, at least there were dogs, she reassured herself, that meant there wouldn’t be… vermin.

  As the dogs continued to follow her, she put her head gingerly round the bedroom door, she saw a wardrobe, doors ajar, with clothes falling from their hangers. More clothes were heaped on the floor and the bed. More ashtrays abandoned at the bedside. An overflowing wicker laundry basket had a lid balanced on top of the heap of clothes inside. The bathroom was an equal mess, and it looked damp and slimy, so she pulled the door shut quickly.

  She moved a pile of books to the floor and sat down on the corner of the sofa. From here, she looked out through grimy glass onto the balcony. She saw that the glass door was open by about twelve inches, to let the dogs go in and out, and out there on the balcony, amid pots with the withered remains of dead plants, were many large, meaty dog turds drying in the sun. Some were fresh, some were fully desiccated, many were in various in-between stages. This was a skin-crawling level of mess.

  She thought of the fresh flowers she’d put out in her lovely house to welcome River home. She thought of the little guest soaps newly unwrapped in the soap dishes, the fluffy white towels, the tiles all scrubbed to sparkling by Angela, their long-serving cleaner, the kitchen, white, bright and shiny.

  She went to stand at the filthy window, to take a look at what was down in the courtyard, because the one good thing she’d worked out was that this apartment didn’t face onto the busy multi-laned road. There, beyond the dog-dirtied balcony, she saw the saddest, grubbiest swimming pool she could have imagined. It had been drained of its water and there were leaves, twigs and plastic bags collecting in heaps across the bottom. Three faded, broken loungers surrounded it, along with several dead palm trees in dirty pots.

  She collapsed back onto the sofa again, feeling tears of anger and disappointment leap up into her eyes. She was so tired, she just wanted to get into a calm, cool bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours straight. She didn’t want to have to deal with panting, stinking dogs and this rancid, stinking flat.

  ‘River, you absolutely useless bloody cow!’ she said out loud.

  14

  River carried her bags one by one into the house.

  She saw the gleaming wooden parquet beneath her feet as she followed Dave through the pristine whiteness into a gorgeous sitting room with luxurious sofas and curtains, all muted greys and heathery tweeds. There were flowers and branches in vases and, beyond the room, a view of a luscious green lawn and more flowers.

  ‘Oh my goodness, it’s absolutely beautiful,’ she exclaimed. ‘What a delightful home you’ve created.’

  Dave smiled. ‘It’s all down to Tess. She thinks she doesn’t have a creative bone in her body, but she has a great eye for interior design. The kitchen is in here…’

  River followed him into the lovely white wooden country kitchen that she recognised from the photographs. And she half listened as he explained how to use the hob, the oven, the microwave.

  ‘Do you have a blender?’ she asked, because as a rule, she didn’t really cook. She just kind of blended – juices, smoothies and soups – and ate out.

  And smoked.

  She wondered when would be a good time to ask where she could smoke because, quite frankly, she’d not yet found anywhere in England where she could smoke and it had been a goddam twenty-seven hours or something since she’d had a cigarette.

  ‘I’d show you round upstairs, but… the crutches,’ Dave explained.

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll be fine. So… where do you stay?’

  ‘I’m all moved into the summerhouse, down at the bottom of the garden, quite tucked away from the house. So I won’t bother you at all. I’ve got running water, a refreshing cold shower, my kitchen and my chemical loo. I’m enjoying it. It feels like a holiday, especially if this weather keeps up.’

  ‘And how are your injuries? Are you healing up okay?’

  ‘Well… there’s a bit of a way to go… but I’m coming on fine.’

  ‘If I need anything, or can’t figure anything out… is it okay to come and ask you?’ River wondered.

  ‘Yes, of course, I don’t want to get in your way. But I’m here if you need me,’ Dave said with a kind smile. ‘The odd friend might come up and visit, or take me out for a trip, so there may be a little bit of coming and going from the garden. But, please, make yourself totally at home. And you’re insured to use the car, of course. The keys are hanging on the hook beside the front door.’

  ‘Stick shift?’ River asked warily.

  ‘No, it’s actually an automatic. So hopefully Tess will get on all right with your one.’

  ‘Oh… yes… of course.’

  She looked around at this beautiful home, with its plush sofas and cushions and immaculately arranged bookcases. There was unusually good artwork on the walls and the plants were all so green and pampered. Upstairs, she was sure the beds would be made up with crisp white linen and plump duvets. And the bathrooms would be spotlessly glossy.

  She had long suspected that she wasn’t much of a homemaker, or even a housekeeper, but Tess’s home was bringing her rudely face to face with this reality. Before coming here, she had thought her apartment wasn’t too bad… a bit messy, sure, but she was a creative person. She had to have a creative place. But now… here… looking around this tranquil oasis, she was suddenly certain that she could do her best work here. Not in the chaos, frenzy and upheaval of apartment number forty-four at 1635. Well, to be honest, she never worked there any more. She couldn’t face it. She only worked in cafés, quiet bars and bookstores.

  ‘Dave? Are you going to speak to Tess soon?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes… I was going to try her right now, in fact. Let her know you’ve arrived safely and see if she’s got to your place all right.’

  ‘Could you please tell her that… well, I left in a hurry… I’ve been very busy with work… and I’m sorry, but my place is… it’s… it’s kind of a total hot mess compared with your home. And I want to apologise to her for that. I mean it, I want to say sorry, truly.’

  Dave smiled, met her eyes again for longer than he meant to, and then gave as much of a shrug as he could with the crutches.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. I mean, you’re letting her stay there for free. I know Tess, she’ll have it all organised and put to rights in under an hour.’

  ‘Please apologise to her for me,’ Tess said. ‘And tell
her, her home, your home, is just stunning, beautiful, and I’m going to love staying here.’

  It looked as if Dave was going to leave her now, so she had to ask.

  ‘Dave… I’m really sorry, I know you don’t want anyone smoking in the house and I totally, totally get that… but is there anywhere where it would be okay to smoke in the garden?’

  ‘Oh!’ Dave turned to her with what she thought was something of a mischievous look. ‘Do you still smoke? I don’t know anyone who still smokes…’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry… I’m an LA cliché, I have wheatgrass, spirulina and three Marlboros for breakfast.’

  ‘No, no, not at all…’ he said, highly amused. ‘I’m going to dig out my old glass ashtray for you and we’ll set you up with a little smoking den on the patio. I gave up smoking twenty-two years ago, when my son was born… still miss it. Still inhale deeply when I walk past a smoker.’

  ‘Well, let’s get out there and give you a cigarette… you know that one won’t hurt, right? And I won’t tell Tess if you don’t.’

  Tess was desperate, desperate for sleep. Her eyes were burning in her head and she felt dizzy. But surely the dogs needed to get out. How long had they been in here? Did they need to be fed? Or watered? Were there any instructions about them at all? Did she even dare to take them both out on a lead? They looked very strong and excitable. She searched all around the mess for any kind of information that River might have left. Finally, under a fruit bowl on the kitchen countertop that was home to one withered apple and a black banana, she found a scribbled list headed ‘TESS’. She scanned it quickly for dogs. And there was the blessed info:

  Tess,

  I am so, so sorry about the dogs. They were supposed to go stay with a friend of my regular dog sitter, but she bailed at the last minute. I have been able to get another walker, Tom, to help. He will come and walk the dogs twice a day, but they will have to stay in the apartment. They are really sweet and friendly, and won’t give you any trouble. You can call Tom anytime, if you’re having any trouble. His number is over the page along with all the feeding instructions. So sorry again… leaving has been a freaking nightmare!

  She punched Tom’s number into her phone and when the reply came, she tried not to sound too crazed.

  ‘Hi, hi, is that Tom? Hi. I’m Tess, I’m from England. I’ve arrived at River’s flat… apartment from England. Tom, could you possibly take her dogs for a few hours? They seem desperate for exercise and I’m so tired… I’ve just got off the plane from England and I have to sleep or I think I’m going to…’ It was too late, she was already sobbing. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she went on, ‘I’m not usually like this. I’ll be fine to look after the dogs, but just not today. Not this afternoon. Are you free at all? Can you come round?’

  ‘Hey, Tess… welcome to Los Angeles,’ came the most laid back drawl, ‘yeah… sure… I can be there in like thirty minutes. Is that cool?’

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you so much, thank you. Thanks again.’

  ‘It’s cool.’

  In the thirty minutes that she waited for Tom to arrive, Tess concentrated on the bedroom. One by one, she took the items from the bed. Used, grubby things – underpants, for crying out loud – she picked up with her fingertips and tossed in the direction of the washing basket, everything else, she hung onto hangers, or pushed into drawers. She felt quite overwhelmed with emotion when she found a box of clean linen under the bed, so she could change the crumpled pillowcases and sheets. Then she tackled the clothes on the floor, again tossing to the laundry basket, or hanging in the wardrobe. She ventured into the bathroom and used the grotty towel, hanging lopsided on a hook, to wipe clean the sink and the mirror. She scrubbed at the toilet with the brush. Then she sat down to pee and realised there was no toilet paper.

  ‘I bloody well hate you, River,’ she shouted furiously out loud.

  When the doorbell rang, mercifully it wasn’t too hard to work out how to use the intercom and let Tom in.

  She noted only a few details about him during their brief chat. He was ludicrously buff and tanned with such a young and handsome face. He sported tight shorts and a tight, lime green t-shirt, and seemed incredibly polite. He kept calling her ‘ma’am’: ‘yes ma’am’, ‘that’s right ma’am’, ‘for sure, ma’am’. And most importantly of all, he was taking the dogs away for a full four hours – plus he knew their names, Burton and Wilder, and showed her which was which. He would take them for longer, he told her sadly, but he had an audition.

  An audition… of course! Because she was in LA now and people just casually had to go off to auditions. And some part of her, beneath the layers of exhaustion, wanted to give just a teeny little scream of excitement at this. Because she really was in LA now and the dogwalker had an audition, or maybe that should be, there was an actor walking the dogs.

  Once Tom and the dogs had left, she locked the door, drank down a long glass of lukewarm water from the tap, then texted Dave:

  All good here, darling. Please don’t call I have to sleeeeep xxx

  She pulled down the blind, then closed the curtain in front of it and fell onto the clean, newly made bed.

  Her last thought was: sleep, oh God, sleep. Please, please just let me sleep.

  River had toured the upstairs fully, with its sloped ceiling, skylights and perfect décor. She had seen the two bathrooms with rolled white towels and fresh pats of soap. She had peeked into a girl’s room with tasteful flowered wallpaper and immaculately organised shelves of photos, books, trophies and treasured toys. There was a boy’s room too, neat as a pin, with a tartan blanket on the bed, and a wall of books and posters. Then the calm, dark master bedroom, all laid out for River with any photos and personal treasures that might have once been here carefully tucked away, so now there was just restful, ironed white linen, a jug of the lilac flowers from the front of the house and two big white reading lamps on either side of the generous bed.

  Oh God, it was heaven. When she got back home, her room was going to be exactly like this one.

  She closed the thick, lined, grey plaid curtains. The room was peaceful, silent and dark enough for her not to need her eye mask. She took off all her clothes and got in between the cool, smooth sheets.

  This was the most soothing bed she had climbed into for a long time. She lay back on the pillow but did not feel the sense of calm or release that she was hoping for. Instead, she felt a wave of acute sadness and envy. This was a perfect home. The home of people who’d obviously made a success of their careers, their marriage and their families. And even though she told herself every day that she was free, she was doing the work she loved, and she had never wanted to be tied down with children, or a husband, or commitments, she still felt hot tears fall from the corners of her eyes because right now, her life was so much more of a mess than she could ever have imagined.

  ‘For chrissake, cupcake,’ she told herself sternly, ‘you’re just exhausted and emotional. Take a melatonin pill and get some goddam sleep.’

  Tess woke with a start and was immediately aware of a face… a big, pale face covered with fur. She nearly screamed in fright, then her eyes opened fully and she took in the small, hot room, made sense of the dog’s head next to hers, and remembered that she was in LA. She vaguely remembered Tom turning up with the dogs and how she’d gone straight back to sleep afterwards. She looked at her phone and tried to work out if the 6.45 showing was UK time, LA time, morning or evening. She had no idea. She went to the window, pulled back the curtain and saw pale blue sky and the abandoned pool. Morning? Or evening? She was none the wiser.

  But did it matter? She was on holiday… on her own… no schedule… no rules… no one to please but herself. She could adjust to LA time as quickly or as slowly as she wanted. After all, she was going to be here for quite some time.

  Something of a plan of action was forming for today… or tonight, or whatever it was. She would go out and buy some groceries in the shop she’d noticed from the taxi window. Then
she would drink several cups of strong tea – a stash of her favourite teabags was in her suitcase – and maybe eat toast… yes, she’d buy bread, butter and jam. All kinds of staples would have to be brought in, because she’d already looked in the small and elderly fridge and there was nothing but three bags of coffee and some ancient veg in there.

  Then, fortified by the tea and toast, she would clean this place from top to bottom, even if it took the first two entire days of her holiday, because that way she could actually start to enjoy living here for the next six weeks.

  It was as if the thought of six weeks was finally settling on her. It was such a long time… of course she had all kinds of ideas and plans about where to go and what to do and how to keep busy. But she was also beginning to realise how much quiet time there would be and how, for week after week, she would be able to do exactly what she wanted, when she wanted to.

  If she wanted to stay in and read all day, she could. If she wanted to eat chocolate for dinner, she could. And if she wanted to scrub at someone else’s windows for enough hours to make them jolly well gleam, no one was here to stop her. Tess had run her family and her home and her responsible full-time job incredibly well, using almost all the minutes of every day, for over twenty years. So a six-week stretch of doing exactly what she wanted was almost dizzying, too much to take in all at once.

  What would she do?

  What would she do with herself?

  For herself?

  By herself?