I Am Ella, Buy Me

by Joan Ellis

  I nod reluctantly. I wish she’d change the subject. I can’t deal with this now. She senses my unease.

  ‘And what about Adam Hart?’ she asks. ‘Perhaps he could be your knight in shining armour? I hear you’re both free agents now.’

  How could she possibly know? I had no idea Jill knew I was that friendly with Adam. I nip any gossip in the bud. Snip. Snip.

  ‘The only passion we share is for chocolate.’

  ‘Are you mad? He’s gorgeous. If you don’t want him I’ll have him.’ She means it as a joke but her comment unsettles me.

  ‘We’re both having a break from relationships. Who needs the hassle, eh?’

  ‘Well, if you two fancy a weekend away, they’ll be a chalet ready and waiting for you. Separate beds, of course.’

  ‘Only if I can have the room with the ivy creeping through the roof.’

  I walk across the corridor to my office. David has arrived and is sitting at the far side of the desk, sulking. He has lined his tubs of marker pens and pencils up like a barricade between us.

  ‘Very professional,’ I tell him.

  ‘That’s an interesting word, coming from you,’ David says flexing his ruler and letting his words hang between us.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing. Just didn’t know we worked on a heart disease charity.’ He has been busy snooping.

  ‘Not that it’s any of your business but I did the work at home and just typed it up here in my lunch hour,’ I tell him.

  ‘It’s still moonlighting.’

  ‘Have you been going through my things?’ I ask.

  I open my drawer to check if anything is missing. David says nothing.

  ‘Did you tell Peter?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course,’ he replies. He thinks he’s won.

  ‘You’ve got a lot to learn, David. Advertising is a small industry. Be careful who you attack.’

  ‘Is that a threat?’ he asks.

  ‘No, it’s a fact. Anyway it doesn’t matter now,’ he says looking down at the floor. ‘I’ve lost everything. Chloe was my team-mate and my girlfriend. How do you think I feel watching her with that piece of shit?’

  ‘Crap.’

  He slumps back in his chair.

  ‘Why don’t you leave here and move on?’ I suggest.

  ‘Clever Ella,’ he sneers. ‘Got it in one. I’m setting up a studio with Darren. He’s got the contacts and I’ve got the money I was saving for a deposit on a flat with Chloe.’

  ‘Good for you,’ I say genuinely pleased for him.

  ‘We’ve found a space to rent over in the Docklands. It’s not exactly Soho but it’s got potential. ‘Up and coming’ if you believe the estate agents. ’

  The Docklands is the back of beyond. I can’t imagine any clients trekking out there to do business but I try to sound positive.

  ‘You should be happy then,’ I tell him.

  ‘I am.’

  ‘You don’t look it.’

  ‘My dream was to be an Art-Director like Alan Ferguson. I couldn’t believe my luck when we landed a placement here with him. The man’s a genius.’

  ‘Alan plays to his strengths. And that’s what you’re doing by becoming a designer.’

  He smiles and rearranges the pencils in his desk-tidier.

  ‘Sounds like we’ve both got an escape plan. I’ve just handed in my notice. No hard feelings?’

  He shakes his head and removes the battle line between us. Then he walks to the door and shouts loud enough for the whole creative department to hear, ‘To hell with Chloe.’

  ‘Don’t worry, David. She’s sleeping with Peter. She’s already there.’

  Chapter thirty-five

  Have the light-bulb moment

  Wally’s widow is waiting for me at the gate when I arrive. She is warm and inviting.

  ‘Hello, Ella,’ she smiles. ‘Thanks so much for coming. I’m Cathy, pleased to meet you. Come on in.’

  ‘Hello, Cathy, it’s lovely to meet you.’ I mean it. It’s a real honour to meet Wally’s wife.

  I follow her into her neat terraced house, the home she had shared with

  Wal for the past forty-three years. It smells of polish and roses.

  ‘Shall I take my shoes off?’ I ask seeing the pristine cream carpet in the hallway.

  ‘No, of course not. Come on through to the living room. Tea or coffee? Or would you prefer something stronger? I’ve got some wine left over from the …’ she pauses, then bursts into tears. ‘The funeral.’

  ‘Here,’ I say taking her by the arm and helping her to a chair.

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone. Keep thinking the silly sod’s goin’ walk through that door any minute. The last thing he said to me was, ‘I’ll be home for me dinner’,’ she says crying and dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I never thought I’d never see ‘im again. I miss him so much. I’m sorry you ain’t come all this way to listen to this.’

  ‘Please don’t apologise,’ I tell her. ‘We all loved Wally. I am so very sorry.’

  She sits and sobs quietly for a few moments. The circular clock on the wall ticks away the minutes, putting space between Wally and us when all we want to do is bring him back.

  ‘He was so excited about that weekend,’ she continues. ‘I lost count of the number of times he packed and unpacked his flipping suitcase. I said to ‘im, ‘Wal, you’re going for two days not two weeks.’

  She laughs and blows her nose.

  ‘When he rung me he was so happy. Said the camp was the same one as we’d been to when we was first married.’

  Now it was my turn to cry. So he wasn’t joking. He really had stayed there before.

  ‘We hadn’t had a holiday in years. With Wal having the sandwich bar, we could never get away. Then when he got the night job at your place, he was so tired to go anywhere.’

  She stops talking and looks at me.

  ‘He loved teaching you dancin’. Said you picked it up just like that.’ I smile at the memory.

  ‘He was a good teacher,’ I say.

  Her eyes slowly move around the room and come to rest on a silver framed photograph of the pair of them on their wedding day. She walks over, picks it up and places it in my hand.

  ‘Look! He had the beginnings of a comb-over even then,’ she said pointing at Wally’s slick hairstyle.

  He’s looking at her like his heart could burst.

  ‘He phoned me just before, just before …’she pauses as a tear rolls down her cheek and she catches it with her forefinger. ‘…just before he went back to his chalet on Sunday afternoon. Told me you two had been awarded Best Act. He was well pleased. Said he was dressed in your clothes? And he was the secretary? I didn’t have a clue what he was going on about but he was laughing his head off. Wish I could’ve seen ‘im.’

  She is half crying, half laughing. And I am happy because now I know she was the last person he spoke to. He didn’t die alone, not really. His wife was right there with him, in his heart, their telephone conversation fresh in his mind.

  ‘So, I just wanted to thank-you, Ella. He knew it was you what got him the job at the agency. He never forgot that and he wanted to repay you somehow. Thought the world of you. To some people, he was just the caretaker, they never gave him the time of day.’

  ‘Cathy, he was my friend. He got me through some hideous times at the agency,’ I tell her holding her frail hands in mind.

  She twists her gold wedding band, thin and worn from years of wear.

  ‘It was his Mum’s.’

  Suddenly, through her tears, she laughs.

  ‘Tell me he didn’t eat them egg sandwiches on the bus?’ I nod.

  ‘He must’ve stunk you all out. I told him to wait ‘til he got off.’

  We both laugh and then fall silent. The sideboard with its barley-twist legs has been lovingly polished, likewise, the display cabinet crammed full of memorabilia from their life together. A ship in a bottle, a pair of miniature clogs, a souven
ir pottery plate from Malta and a framed photographs of the pair of them. I walk over to take a closer look.

  It must have been taken twenty, thirty years ago, they are both sitting on the grass, a huge Chestnut tree behind them, holding hands, squinting into the sun, the horizon at a jaunty angel.

  ‘That’s us in Highgate Woods,’ she says. ‘We used to have a picnic. It was egg sandwiches on that day too. I remember because I was pregnant and they made me feel sick.’

  There’s not one picture of a baby or child and Wally never mentioned being a Dad.

  ‘I lost her. Miscarriage. We couldn’t have no more,’ she says her eyes misting over again.

  I hold her hand again. Neither of us speaks for a long time.

  ‘Oh no. I never got you your drink. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Please, don’t worry.’

  ‘No, you’ve come all this way,’ she says going to the sideboard and pouring me a glass of sherry.

  I sip it.

  ‘Wal thought the world of you, Ella. Thanks for everything you done for him. He was very grateful even if he didn’t say.’

  ‘Cathy, Wally was wonderful. He showed me the world through his eyes. And when I look at it from his perspective, I can see it’s a great place,’ I tell her.

  She smiles warmly at me and I can see what a beauty she must have been when Wal fell in love with her.

  ‘I’ve brought you this,’ I say as I hand her the card we all signed, together with a cheque for the British Heart Foundation.

  ‘Oh, thank-you. That’s so kind. Please say ‘thank-you’ to everyone, from me. And Wal,’ she says opening the card and glancing at the signatures, overwhelmed.

  ‘Let me know if you need anything, anything at all.’

  She nods.

  ‘I’m fine. You look after yourself, Ella. Be happy.’

  She walks me to the front door. As she clicks on the light, the bulb blows. She laughs.

  ‘That’s Wal, that is. Oh flip, he did all this stuff round the house, ain’t got a clue where he kept the spares.’

  I help her look and we eventually find a shoe box full of bulbs of all shapes and sizes in the cupboard under the stairs. The first bulb we try, fits. Cathy switches it on.

  Even when he’s not here, Wally can still light up a room.

  Chapter thirty-six

  Be honest

  Adam and I are walking through Highgate Woods on the outskirts of North London. This is where those in the know come for some much- needed peace and quiet from the chaos of the city. At weekends, it’s a favourite haunt with dog walkers. And on sunny summer afternoons, young mums trailing expensively dressed toddlers, head for the shade of one of the Chestnut trees to picnic joylessly on dried fruit and carrot sticks. But it’s still early and we are the only ones here, in the clearing in front of the cricket pitch. There’s something special about having this place all to ourselves. The cafe is closed so we sit on a bench enjoying acres of green, framed by a brilliant blue sky. As always it takes more than fresh air to sustain Adam. He pulls out a box of ham and brie sandwiches from his carrier bag and hands one to me. Then he opens a can of fizzy drink and sets it down between us on the bench.

  ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ he says lifting a layer of bread and examining the filling of his sandwich.

  ‘Yes, it’s really delicious,’ I reply taking a mouthful.

  ‘I mean sitting here, together,’ he says with a smile. I spin round, suddenly realising where we are.

  ‘We’re in Wally and Cathy’s spot. The exact place where they ate their picnics all those years ago. This bench must have been put here later.’

  I turn to look at the small brass plaque screwed onto the back of the bench.

  ‘In loving memory of Baby Daisy 1958 -1958’

  Wally’s daughter. My stomach feels hollow.

  ‘Oh, yeah, how was his wife when you saw her. Was she okay?’

  ‘Not yet but she will be. In time.’

  ‘I’d like to meet her. Wally made her sound like a cross between Mae West and Lulu. Next time you go, I’ll come with you.’

  Adam rips open a packet of chocolate-covered Swiss rolls with such gusto all six tumble onto the grass. He picks them up and hands me one. He tears the foil wrapper off another and eats it in one mouthful, stretching out his legs and leaning back, putting both his arms out along the back of the bench. When I feel his left hand on my shoulder, I jump and he darts forward awkwardly, brushing his lips deliberately against mine.

  ‘Adam?’ I ask pulling away.

  ‘Sorry, I thought...’

  He looks at my face. I’m not giving him any encouragement. He sits back, downcast before snapping at his sandwich. He chews quickly and swallows.

  ‘Could you fall in love with me? I could fall in love with you,’ he says as he stares at me, willing me to give him the answer he wants.

  But I reply with the words no-one wants to hear, ‘I love you, but...’

  ‘Ella, please don’t say that. We love each other; we both know that. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘No, sorry Adam, it never is.’

  He jerks away from me, upsetting the drink. It pours through the slats in the wooden bench onto the grass below.

  ‘What an idiot! I can’t do anything right, can I?’

  ‘Yes you can. You saved my life, Adam.’

  He stares at the ground and scuffs at a rogue dandelion growing brightly and defiantly towards the sky.

  ‘Please, let’s just take things slowly and see what happens. You know we can make it work, Ella.’

  He is right. Life would be idyllic. We would cherish each other, knowing we had found the one thing everyone is looking for. I adore him. I think I always have.

  ‘It would never work. I would spoil everything. I always do. Even my Dad couldn’t bear to stick around me.’

  ‘Ella, no. I can’t bear it. From what you’ve told me, your Dad was the one who was difficult to live with not you. It wasn’t your fault.’

  I want to believe him but my script has been written for me in indelible ink. How can I change it now? I tried my best. Worked hard, got a good job and looked after Mum but I can’t crack relationships.

  Now Adam looks broken. He’s even stopped eating. I’ve never seen him so low. I am no good for him. He doesn’t need a lush, a failure. He stares bleakly into the distance.

  ‘This isn’t something we can solve with cake,’ I tell him. His hands are shaking as he grasps mine.

  ‘Ella, you know we’re a marriage made in heaven,’ he insists, doing his best to smile.

  ‘Chocolate heaven,’ I correct.

  I curse myself for being glib. He lets go of my hands and looks away.

  ‘If we lived together we’d be arguing about who ate the last biscuit,’ I say to the back of his head.

  ‘If that’s all we had to worry about, we’d be laughing,’ he tells me without looking round, his voice is tinged with bitterness.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you. You mean too much to me, Adam.’

  He turns to face me. He looks confused. Even I’m having trouble working out how we’ve got here.

  ‘Neither of us has a great track record with relationships,’ I say trying to justify my decision.

  ‘That was a bit below the belt.’

  ‘Best we keep everything above the waist, then.’

  ‘Must we?’

  I see a flicker of a smile; Jill’s right, he is gorgeous.

  ‘Yes, that way we’ll always be friends, not many couples can say that.’

  ‘Just friends? You want me to be happy with that?’ Hurt runs through his voice.

  ‘Yes. This way we’ll still be together when all our teeth have dropped out from eating too much cake,’ I tell him.

  His cheeks are wet with tears. I brush them away with my finger and he turns away, embarrassed. I squeeze his hand and he grips mine. Then, I start to cry. I want to run to the school toilet and talk to Mum. But I know what she’d say, ‘Be happy, darling.’ />
  Suddenly, the thick grey fog that has haunted me all my life, lifts. Wally taught me to love life. I had better get on with it.

  ‘I can’t lose you, Ella,’ Adam says, scuffing at the crushed dandelion with his heel.