The Day We Met

by Roxie Cooper

  It’s a good job Ebony can’t hear this conversation – she wouldn’t get it. She wouldn’t understand the relationship Jane and I have, the things we’ve shared and the way we talk to each other. I like the brutality and honesty of it.

  ‘Well, they’re going to live with Ebony. Matt will have contact with them as and when he can,’ I tell her.

  ‘He’s quite happy working in Dubai now so they don’t slot into his life out there. They will be more than happy surrounded by Ebony, Will and the boys, Dad … and Jamie.’

  ‘Jamie?’

  ‘They’ve grown very fond of him over the past eighteen months,’ I tell her. ‘Even if … when … he meets someone else, I’d still like him to keep in touch with them. He was such an important part of my life.’

  ‘Yes, he was,’ Jane says. ‘He brought you back to life.’

  We smile at each other, just enjoying the moment, this friendship we have, forged over many years. I may have paid for her relationship, but what we’ve been left with is utterly priceless.

  ‘Well, I’d better go,’ she says. ‘I can see you’re exhausted and I don’t want your crazy sister coming to haul me out.’

  I forget how well she knows everyone in my life, despite never having met any of them before.

  Jane stands up, sliding her tan Mulberry handbag on her right shoulder and adjusting her black woollen scarf. Her bright red hair, striking as ever, is all down today, marking a contrast to how I’ve seen her before. She’s not in work mode.

  I exhale deeply, knowing I’m about to cry. This is one of the first goodbyes I’ll have to do and I don’t think I can cope with them. Would be better if I died in my sleep?

  ‘Jane?’

  ‘Yes, darling?’

  ‘You’ll come to the funeral, won’t you?’

  ‘Wouldn’t miss it.’ She winks.

  ‘Make sure it’s good, won’t you? Don’t let it be crap,’ I say and laugh, softly.

  ‘The best,’ she says, smiling.

  She sits on the bed and envelops me with love and the biggest cuddle. It lasts for a least a minute. Her perfume – the same one she’s worn for all these years – comforts me more than I could ever tell her. She squeezes me so hard, it almost hurts in my fragile state, but I don’t care.

  ‘I’ve never been prouder of anyone,’ she whispers into my ear. ‘And your mum would be too.’

  The biggest smile sweeps across my face as my eyes well up with tears.

  ‘Thank you, Jane. For everything.’

  She looks at me and smiles, her eyes glossy. She quickly gathers her things up and leaves the room. Taking one last look at me before she goes, she blows me a kiss and I smile.

  I don’t know how to define content or happy. They’re both just things we feel. I guess when your time is up, all you can hope for is that you’re happy with your life and there are no regrets. Mistakes, yes – we all make them. But as my mum said, we’re all human.

  Perfectly imperfect … I’m happy with that.

  CHAPTER 37

  Saturday 2 March 2019

  Jamie

  I sat alone in her bedroom for days after she’d gone, not wanting to move anything because she’d touched it last: a glass of water, one of her books, her lip balm. Her bedroom, slowly turning into a museum, gathering dust and memories.

  I could still smell her perfume. I just needed to be close to her – or the essence of her.

  I occasionally brought the girls in and cuddled them, not that they really understood what was going on. I know I haven’t been in their lives for very long but they trust me and we get on well. They’re both the spitting image of her, the same Cupid’s bow mouth and huge green eyes.

  For the first two nights after she died, I didn’t sleep. Sitting on the blue chair in her room, I stared at the bed in silence, drinking whisky and going through the last twelve years of our lives. I wish I’d been more honest earlier on. I wish I’d told her how crazy mad in love with her I was from the beginning. I wish I’d never held back. I wish I’d been braver. None of that helps me now, though. I just have to live with it.

  A huge black hole of death and grief swallows me up. She’s been a part of my life for so long, and now she’s gone. Just knowing I won’t hear her laugh again, see that smile, her beautiful face, breaks my heart. Is it possible to feel physical pain from grief? Because it feels like it.

  I’m not the only one struggling. Watching Michael and Ebony go through losing their daughter and sister is utterly heartbreaking. They’ve been through enough already. Nobody can quite believe it.

  ‘Jamie!’ both girls scream, running towards me as I walk through the door. Adelaide jumps right up on me as Evie wraps her arms around my waist.

  ‘Here they are! My little monkeys!’ I say, hugging them both as Michael and Ebony appear in the hallway. ‘Are you ready for our special trip?’

  ‘Yes! Can we listen to the music in the car and can I bring Moana?’ Adelaide begs, shoving a cuddly Moana dolly in my face.

  ‘Definitely yes to both!’ I say, enthusiastically.

  ‘Lovely to see you, Jamie.’ Ebony smiles, giving me a huge hug as I pop Adelaide down. ‘We’ve just made some coffee.’

  ‘How are you, Ebs?’ I ask, as tactfully as I can in front of the girls.

  She half smiles, doing the best she can. ‘I miss her,’ she whispers, the pain she still feels at losing her sister evident in her face. I nod, pulling her closer and kissing her on the side of the head.

  Walking into the kitchen, it still feels surreal that she is no longer here in her dad’s house where she was both a child and adult. It’s also the place she died, very peacefully, one cold night in January as I lay next to her.

  ‘How are you, Jamie?’ Michael says, pouring me coffee, Adelaide and Evie nattering in the lounge.

  ‘Just trying to survive each day, you know?’ I admit, sitting down at the dining table. ‘I feel like I’m constantly switching between crying and being angry at the world. I don’t even know what to do with myself half the time.’

  It seems a cruel irony that, since I won the art competition, I’ve been offered so many exhibitions and my work is in much demand. And the one person who encouraged me to follow my dream isn’t here to see it.

  ‘You know, Jamie,’ Michael says, sitting on the chair next to me. ‘Stephanie’s mum, Elaine, was the only woman I ever loved.’

  ‘Stephanie told me so much about her – she sounds like an amazing woman.’

  ‘Oh, she was special,’ he tells me. ‘You just know when you’ve found a woman like that.’

  We share a lovely nod in agreement. Yeah, we both know.

  ‘When I found out that she might be taken away from me, it was like my world was ending. I mean, we’d been through so much I literally couldn’t believe it.’

  I take a deep breath. It’s staggering how much Michael and Elaine’s relationship mirrors mine and Stephanie’s. It’s just not fair.

  ‘We prayed for the worst not to happen,’ he says. ‘And then it did.’ He takes a sip of his coffee, gently placing it back down on to the table. ‘And I was so fucking angry, Jamie.’

  I do a double take when he says this. Michael does not swear. It sounds unnatural coming out of his mouth.

  ‘Along with grief, in the following years I allowed that anger to consume me for far too long. It affected my relationships with my daughters and those around me.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do with it, Michael. I loved her so much and now she’s gone. I can’t cope with it,’ I say, feeling my eyes swell up with sadness once again.

  ‘I feel it too, Jamie. I can’t believe she’s gone either. But we all have to look out for each other. We can’t take care of Evie and Adelaide properly if we are all running around angry. All it does is isolate you from those you love.’

  I nod my head and run my hands over my face, hoping I can fend off more tears.

  ‘I see a lot of me and Elaine in you and Steph,’ Michael says. ‘What y
ou had was the real deal. And I mean no disrespect to your ex-wife and son, but I thank God you were around the last twelve years because you’ve been the most positive influence on her I’ve known.’

  ‘Thank you, it really means a lot to hear that.’

  ‘I’d never, ever seen her happier than when she was with you. Everyone at the funeral said it too. Your eulogy with the photos and the music, that portrait …’

  I reach for my coffee to stop myself losing it. The funeral was the hardest thing to do. I put together a slideshow of photos of Steph and her family, all set to Michael Buble’s ‘Close Your Eyes’, as the portrait I created of her stood on her coffin.

  The final photo in the montage was of a young, fresh-faced, blonde-haired Stephanie, about twelve years old, dressed in a red nightie with daisies on the sleeves. Next to her stood a beautiful, glamorous woman in a red floor-length evening dress. Her long blonde hair was swept to the side, cascading over her right shoulder and a diamond choker around her neck, sparkled in the early evening light, which was pouring into the bedroom they were standing in. They stood next to a dressing table with a three-way mirror, which was full of perfume bottles, make-up, hairbrushes and jewellery. But it was the way they were looking at each other which struck me. Stephanie told me this was the last photo she remembers being taken before her mum took ill, when everything was normal in her world. She was glad she had that memory, though she never remembered what had made her laugh so much, but they’re gazing at each other, laughing their heads off, and there is so much love between them.

  Mother and daughter.

  ‘Elaine always used to say that the universe knows what it’s doing and she was right. But it can also be so cruel, because there is nothing worse than losing the woman you fought so hard for. All we can do is support each other now.’

  ‘Well, you’re a very close and tight family. And, in time—’ I break off. ‘I’ll never forget how kind you were to me in difficult circumstances.’

  Michael looks at me, frowning, with a confused look on his face.

  ‘Jamie, let me be clear about this,’ he says, ‘whatever happens, you are part of this family, full stop. You made my daughter happier than she’s ever been and Evie and Adelaide could not want for a better step-dad. Whatever happens, you’re one of us now.’

  The gravel crinkles underneath the wheels as we travel up the familiar driveway and the trees sprout a beautiful selection of fresh green leaves. It’s familiar, but different. I’ve never been here in the spring before.

  ‘Are we there yet?’ asks Evie from the back of the car.

  I laugh at the sheer cliché of it. She’s been asking since we set off. I reply with a big, fat, ‘Yep! We’re here!’

  ‘Yay! Adelaide, wake up! We’re here!’ she yells to the little sleeping princess beside her in the car seat, head lolling to the side. Moana has fallen on the floor.

  It felt strange, making the phone call.

  They all knew Stephanie: Avril, the receptionist, the maître d’, the housekeeper – they knew us both. We’ve been coming here for that long and no questions were ever asked, there was never any judgement. They must have known, but they were always polite and friendly. They became our friends.

  It felt right to let them know.

  They expressed their condolences with a sadness I hadn’t quite expected, calling back a few weeks later, asking if I would like to go today. They wanted to do something nice ‘for the girl who loved staying there’.

  We park and the kids jump out. Evie bounds up the steps to reception as Adelaide trots up, holding on to my hand. Walking through the door, I’m met by Avril, who comes out from behind the desk and hugs me. She hasn’t actually changed that much since the first day I met Stephanie. Her hair is now a grey bob and she still wears the same ’50s-style red-rimmed glasses. Turning her attention towards the girls, she comments upon how much they look like their mother as they stand like little soldiers next to the fireplace. Ebony, always organised, dressed them both in dungarees today and they look alarmingly cute. Both have Stephanie’s icy blonde hair, but it’s got a bit of a curl to it.

  We chat to Avril for five minutes or so and she tells us about the thing they’ve done for Steph, which is so kind of them. She’d love it.

  As we make our way outside, the sun breaks through the clouds. It always looks epic when this happens over hills. You feel insignificant and small, which I suppose we are, really. Walking on to the grass, I allow the kids to run free towards the tree. It’s looked the same every year since we’ve been here. I don’t know how old it is, but it’s one of those really old, thick ones, with sprawling roots and rough bark. It is majestic and imposing, the branches moving freely in the wind.

  I see the bench underneath it, facing Heathwood Hall. The same bench Stephanie and I sat on that cold October night and got to know each other.

  The night I fell in love with her.

  The kids run straight to it, hop on to the seat and start swinging their legs, excitedly. It looks as if it’s been cleaned, spruced up, its chunky legs and armrests now a dark, oak colour. But its newest addition takes pride of place in the middle of the backrest.

  A small gold plaque, fastened on with tiny gold screws. Engraved, it says:

  For Stephanie, who found her fate on the road she took to avoid it

  It feels like only a week ago since that night. How can it be that she’s gone? I sit on the bench and scoop both girls up, one in each arm, cuddling them both tightly.

  ‘Is this Mummy’s bench, Jamie?’ Evie asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘We used to love sitting here, it was one of her favourite places.’

  ‘I miss her,’ she says, burying her head into my torso.

  I exhale deeply, trying not to lose it in front of them.

  ‘I know, sweetheart,’ I say. ‘I miss her too. She loved you very much, you know.’

  ‘Can I have some sweeties now?’

  I laugh, reaching in my pocket for the treats I brought her.

  ‘Come on, there’s something else I want to show you,’ I say, grabbing hold of their hands and walking back towards the Hall.

  ‘I like the lady on the top!’ says Adelaide, tucking into her sweets. ‘She’s pretty, just like Mummy is!’

  ‘Yes, she sure is,’ I say, looking at the girl on top of the fountain I’ve seen so many times over the years. She’s still there, blowing her horn or some other weird musical instrument, dancing wildly, having a great time. ‘Your mummy loved this fountain. In fact, this is sort of where we met,’ I say.

  ‘Did you tell her she was pretty?’ she says and giggles.

  I laugh. ‘Kind of.’ Oh, the innocence of being a child. God, I wish I had done.

  Then a gurgling sound comes out of nowhere. The cranking and clanking startles Adelaide and she grabs my leg.

  ‘What’s that noise, Jamie?’ Evie asks.

  I look at the fountain, cranking into action as short bursts of water start sporadically pumping out of the top, until, seconds later, it shoots up into the sky and cascades down the three tiers, like a waterfall.

  It’s beautiful. The girls squeal in excitement as the spray from the water lands on their faces.

  Never, in over ten years of coming here, has this fountain ever been switched on. I hear heels clicking behind me and turn around to see Avril walking over, smiling.

  ‘She always used to say, “Why do you never turn that fountain on?” So, we thought we would, for you and the girls.’

  I walk towards her, give her a hug.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, welling up. ‘She’d bloody love this.’

  As Avril releases from the embrace, she smiles, looking a bit teary-eyed.

  ‘Now,’ she says. ‘I wonder who would like some hot chocolates? Anyone?’

  ‘Me!’ both girls shout in unison and Avril takes their hands and leads them into the Hall.

  ‘You take a moment, Jamie,’ she says. ‘They’ll be fine with me for five minutes.’
<
br />   I nod, thankful for her kindness. I watch them all skip off back into the building and turn back to the terrace.

  It’s quiet. And beautiful.

  The only sound comes from the fountain, a calming, rain-like white noise.

  I take a few deep breaths. It’s still raw, the grief. It hurts every day. This fountain, that tree, the room upstairs – they’re all her. And us.

  I take the iPod out of my pocket. Putting the earphones in, I go to the ‘songs’ menu, close my eyes and scroll through.

  ‘OK, Stephanie,’ I say out loud. ‘Let’s see what you’ve got for me …’

  Pressing my thumb randomly after a few seconds, I hear a tune I’ve heard so many times. It’s from an iconic film and I recognise it immediately. Such a classic.

  The strings slowly build, before that distinctive vocal kicks in.

  A smile spreads across my face. I laugh, gently, opening my eyes and looking up to the sky.

  ‘More Than A Woman’ by the Bee Gees.

  Reading Group Questions

  The Day We Met is an unusual love story in that the romantic leads are both with other people until near the end of the novel. What do you think about this? How does it compare to other love stories you’ve read?

  The story is told from the points of view of both Stephanie and Jamie. What did you think to the way the story was told? Was there a protagonist you enjoyed reading about more?

  Stephanie and Jamie meet by chance. What do you think about the role fate, choice and circumstance play in the novel?

  Music and art play an important part in Stephanie and Jamie’s relationship. What do you think the characters were trying to express with this?

  Stephanie and Jamie’s relationship begins as an emotional affair. Do you think this is worse than a physical affair? Is it equal in terms of a betrayal or is one more forgivable than the other?

  Jamie’s father leaving when he was young and Stephanie believing her parents had the perfect marriage has a lasting impression on them. To what extent do you think their parents have influenced their approach to relationships?