The Closer You Get

by Mary Torjussen

  I went out for a walk and found myself near the local railway station. On impulse I caught the train into Liverpool. I knew it would be crowded there. I was sick of solitude. But as I walked among the shoppers all I noticed were other couples. Families. Happy mums beaming at their children. Couples kissing. It was too much.

  I went to the café in Waterstones bookshop and looked at the Booker Prize shortlist there, planning which books I’d buy when I got paid, then wandered down to John Lewis, a big department store at the heart of Liverpool ONE.

  I hadn’t intended to look at the baby clothes there. I hadn’t done that for years, since I thought I had a chance of becoming pregnant. But that day I went up the escalator to the third floor as though I was in a trance, and headed straight for the baby section. Instantly my heart reacted. I wanted to reach out, to touch things. There were tiny white woolen hats and pink velvet dresses. Soft toys, giraffes and teddies and elephants, sat in the perfect little cribs. A little knitted rabbit in a pale-gray-and-white-striped sweater lay on a bright blue blanket. I could feel myself soften as I saw them. I knew I shouldn’t buy anything. I’d learned my lesson from Captain Barker, the little toy dog that Tom had bought me. It was too painful. Pointless.

  A member of staff was hanging up impossibly small sleepsuits and turned to me and smiled. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “No,” I said, a bit too sharply. “It’s okay, thanks. I’m looking for a gift for a friend.”

  I turned to leave. I needed to get out. It was a mistake coming here. When I’d given that little toy dog to the local Oxfam shop I’d vowed not to put myself in this position again.

  And then I saw her. Emma. Harry’s wife. The woman he’d chosen to be with, the woman who was having his baby.

  She was looking at some crib blankets, stroking them as though they were precious objects. She had a faraway look on her face that I recognized, that I knew I’d held myself when I’d thought there was a chance I’d be pregnant. She seemed to be comparing the colors: the pinks and blues and lilacs and yellows.

  “Go for plain white,” I wanted to tell her. “There’s plenty of time for color.”

  I stood transfixed as she lifted a blanket to her cheek, as though to test its softness. The same assistant who’d tried to help me hurried over to her and I saw them laughing together and then laying the blankets on the counter to compare them. I remembered what Sarah had said, that Harry was afraid of bankruptcy once Emma saw those baby things. I knew exactly how she felt. I would have wanted to buy everything in the shop.

  I hurried away, my heart pounding. I couldn’t bear to see what she bought. I didn’t want to picture her showing them to Harry. I knew how his face would soften when he saw them. He would hug her. Kiss her. I forced myself to stop. I needed to keep away from specifics. My nights were haunted by dreams of him as it was.

  * * *

  • • •

  As soon as I was home I went into my bedroom, drew the curtains shut, and lay on the bed with the quilt pulled up around me. So many bad emotions swirled around my head; I just needed to hide away.

  I don’t think I’d seen Emma as a real person before. I’d shut out every thought of her, and Harry rarely mentioned her. It wasn’t one of those affairs I’d heard about where the wife was criticized nonstop by her own husband and his lover. I think we both preferred to pretend she and Tom didn’t exist. I don’t know which is worse, really.

  After a while I grew sick of thinking about them. I got out of bed, determined to go for a walk before dinner, to get some fresh air and hopefully some positive thoughts. Before I set off, I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water from the fridge to take with me and stopped dead.

  There on the kitchen counter was a mug of coffee. It was my mug, my coffee. I stared at it. I was sure I hadn’t had it that morning. Warily I touched the mug. It was room temperature. I held it to my nose. Definitely coffee. The jar was on the counter and a spoon was in the sink. Inside the fridge was a plastic bottle of milk I’d bought the day before. I hadn’t opened that bottle. I knew I hadn’t opened it. I twisted off the green cap and saw the seal had been removed. I checked the bin. I’d taken the bin bag to the outside bins the day before and there in the fresh bin bag was the little foil seal. I frowned. Had I done that? I closed my eyes to concentrate. I could almost swear I hadn’t.

  CHAPTER 52

  Ruby

  I came back from work on Monday feeling a lot better. The end was in sight with that job. I no longer cared that the others sat about eating chocolates and putting work on my desk whenever I went to the restroom. They meant nothing to me, and anyway, I like to be busy. My house was up for sale. Soon I could move on. I was still worried that I was forgetting things and thought I’d make an appointment to see my doctor if it carried on. I must have had coffee on Saturday morning. It was something I did every single morning. I hated to miss it and felt out of sorts and tired before I had it. I wouldn’t have gone out shopping if I’d felt like that. Just that morning I’d found myself halfway through a slice of toast and could hardly remember making it. And there were times when I was living with Tom where I’d be stressed and unable to sleep until the early hours, then the next morning I’d find myself at work without remembering parts of the journey. Sometimes you do things on automatic pilot; that’s what I must have done with the coffee. It was normal when you were tired.

  I went straight out for a run after work that evening. I took a different route, through a road parallel to the river. At the top of the hill that led down to the promenade I stopped for a second and steadied myself on an old stone wall. The smell of the river, salty and fresh, filled my lungs. I plugged my headphones in and scrolled through my phone’s playlist. Bob Marley’s “One Love” resounded in my ears as I ran down the hill toward the river. The sun was still bright, the sky a vivid blue.

  My heart lifted. As my body warmed up and my breathing became more measured, I felt a spark of happiness. There’s something about running, when there’s enough wind to cool my face and when my arms and legs are in synchrony, that means I can let myself go completely and forget everything, just for a while.

  I ran back to my flat feeling as though something had changed in me. I was ready to leave my past behind and move on. And that wasn’t a punishment, it wasn’t a penance; it was something I was looking forward to.

  I was too hungry to shower before I ate, so I quickly put together some chicken and salad for dinner and took it into the living room. An e-mail notification pinged on my phone; it was just something from the local beauty salon offering a discount on treatments. I deleted it. The e-mailed tickets from Tom were now top of the list. I reread it. They had cost nearly £400. He’d known how much I loved those live shows. We’d never been to the Royal Albert Hall and had always gone to smaller places in Liverpool and Manchester, but he would have known how much I’d love to go there. And three tickets. Did he think he and I would go there with Josh? The show was at Christmas. Did he think we’d be back together by then?

  For the tenth time I read his message.

  I was in Scotland this weekend visiting my brother. He sends his love.

  So do I.

  x

  The phone rang in my hand, making me jump. It was Tom: a video call. I panicked that by rereading his e-mail I’d conjured him up. Hastily I ran my hands over my hair, pushed my plate away, and straightened my back.

  “Hi,” he said. “Just wanted to check in on you, make sure you were okay.”

  “I’m fine.” I don’t know why I felt so nervous. “Thank you for the tickets. That was really kind of you.”

  “You’re welcome. It should be a great night.” Again, I wondered whether he thought he’d be there with me.

  “Why are we on a video call?”

  He smiled. “I just wanted to see you, honey.”

  “Honey? You haven’t called me that for years.”
>
  He seemed nervous when he smiled and said, “I realize that, Ruby. I think I got a bit lost. Didn’t appreciate you enough. Being here on my own is making me think about things.”

  I kept quiet; I wasn’t used to this version of Tom.

  “I haven’t seen you for weeks,” he added. “You look great.”

  In the corner of my screen I could see exactly what he could see. My hair was tangled and damp from running and I hadn’t put any makeup on since early that morning. I didn’t bother to answer him but realized at least I wasn’t apologizing for the way I looked.

  “You’ve lost weight,” he said, and smiled at me. “It suits you.”

  As soon as he complimented me I lit up. I couldn’t help it; I always did it, like someone who was desperate for approval. He was right; I had lost quite a lot of weight over the past few weeks, though I wouldn’t recommend the way I’d lost it to anyone.

  On the other hand, Tom was looking great. He was all dressed up in a dark blue suit and a white shirt and I realized I didn’t recognize them. He must have been shopping for clothes on his own. I had a vision of a personal shopper telling him he looked fab, boosting his ego, making him feel wonderful. He’d had his hair cut, too, and looked younger. Happier. The difference between us was marked and I cringed. The confidence I’d gained during my run was slipping away.

  “You look nice,” I said. “Are you going out?”

  His face flushed with pleasure. “Yes, just to the pub. The Crown. You don’t fancy coming along, do you? Get a taxi; I’ll drop you back home.”

  “No, thanks.” There was a silence so I added, “It would take me too long to get ready.” I don’t know why I said that. I could have kicked myself. It sounded as though I’d be up for it if there was more time. “Who are you meeting?”

  His eyes flickered, then he said, “Oh, just some of the guys from the office.”

  I frowned, then stopped when I saw my reflection. It made me look even worse. I knew he was lying. There was no way he’d be meeting work friends on a Monday night. And then it dawned on me. Did he have a date? Surely not. Why would he ask me to be there if he did?

  I glanced down at my watch. It was seven forty-five. For a moment I felt like jumping in the car and going to The Crown just to see whom he was meeting.

  “I’d better go,” he said. “Come along if you like. It would be great to see you.” He smiled at me. “I miss you, Ruby.” Suddenly it was as though the years between the time we met and now had shrunk. Disappeared. This was the man I’d fallen for. I looked at him and in that moment I couldn’t remember why I had left him. For a split second I thought I could get ready and be there by nine. We could have a couple of drinks, talk about things.

  Of course I didn’t do that, but the memory of his smile, the words he’d spoken, stayed with me. They comforted me. Confused me.

  CHAPTER 53

  Ruby

  The night I spoke to Tom I went to bed early. There was too much to think about. Did he really want us to get back together? I’d given up on ever seeing Harry again, but in my heart he was the one I wanted. I couldn’t just go back to Tom as though nothing had happened. At least he knew nothing of Harry. I knew his reaction would have been very different if he had. I started to think that maybe it would be possible to go back to Tom, if he could always be the way he was now.

  I went to sleep pretty quickly but just before two o’clock I jolted awake. I’d heard a noise.

  I sat up straight and strained to listen. I thought the sound was from outside the flat. Was it just a cat down in the alleyway? Then there was a bang; not a loud one, not enough to waken the street. I gripped my phone and slid out of bed. The flat was dark and quiet. Using the light on my phone to guide me, I tiptoed into the living room and edged my way to the window, where I moved the curtain slightly to one side and peered out onto the street. There was no one in sight. Nothing moved. My car was exactly where I’d left it. It didn’t look like it had been disturbed. I stood for a few minutes looking out into the desolate street. It was a windy night and a plastic bag blew up and down, knocking into parked cars, then lurching away as the wind changed.

  I stood at the window for a long time. I heard the soft roar of a car in the distance and the wind as it rattled the panes, but there was no other sound. There were no lights on in the houses and flats nearby. All was quiet.

  Chilled and nervous, I went back toward my bedroom. To reach it I had to walk past the stairs down to the little hallway and automatically I glanced down, flashing the torch on my phone. When I saw the white envelope lying on the mat just inside the front door, I froze.

  Stealthily I crept down the stairs and picked up the envelope then ran back upstairs as though someone was after me. My heart pounding, I switched on the lamp in my bedroom and opened the envelope.

  Inside was another card, the same size as the first. It was a photo of me sitting at my window at night. The curtains were drawn back, the window open, and I could be clearly seen at my table, typing something on my laptop. It looked as though the room was lit by candlelight. There was no date stamp on the photo. I tried to think when it was taken, but I couldn’t see what I was wearing. It could have been any night. Slowly I turned over the card and read the message.

  Still thinking of you.

  I hardly slept for the rest of that night. My mind was racing with all the things that had happened. Who had invited me to the interview? That was obviously a hoax, but why would anyone do that? They had nothing to gain from it. That escort site had terrified me and now photos had been put through my front door in the middle of the night. It was horrible to think of myself sitting there, feeling vulnerable and alone, probably looking online for somewhere to live, a place where I could be safe, while someone stood outside, taking a photo that they knew would frighten me.

  I couldn’t cope with this on my own. I needed help. I almost called Tom a dozen times, my finger hovering over the Call button, wanting him to rescue me. I knew that he’d come to fetch me, drive me home, and I’d be back in my old life. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. Sarah was the only person I could think of. I wondered what she’d say if she knew Tom had told me he loved me, that he missed me. I thought she’d tell me to go back, to count myself lucky he knew nothing of Harry. And then I wondered: Had he talked to her? Her contact details were in our address book at home. Had he told her he wanted me to come back? Had she told him where I lived?

  She would be awake at seven, but I couldn’t contact her that early. She’d be running around, too busy to reply. And I should get going, too; I had to be at work at nine. I got to work early and sat in my car until I knew she’d be at her desk. I sent her a message:

  Have you spoken to Tom since I left home?

  She replied immediately. No, I’m not the one who goes after married men

  I ignored this barb. I had too much to think about. I thought of the photos I’d had with their cryptic messages, the phone calls, those disgusting men who didn’t even know me who thought I’d have sex with them for money. My phone number was on that site; who had put it there?

  I’d been followed home from the wine bar. I knew I had. At times I’d wondered whether I’d imagined it, but that was just wishful thinking. I knew someone had been following me. That silver car had driven past three times round and had stopped just yards from me. I’d known that if the driver had got out, I’d be in serious trouble. I hadn’t taken it personally, though, until I saw the same car driving up and down my road later that night. After I’d run away from it I hadn’t seen it again until I was in my flat. Nobody had followed me there. I felt a surge of panic. I hadn’t thought of that before. They knew where I lived.

  I swallowed my pride and called Sarah, but she didn’t answer. I sent her a message:

  Something weird has happened. Someone put a photo of me through my front door in the middle of the night. They must have been w
atching me.

  There was no reply for a while and I sat in my car watching my colleagues go into the building. They stared at me and I waved, but got no response. Just before nine, when I was about to go in to work, she replied. I could tell she was exasperated with me:

  Honestly, Ruby, every time I speak to you, you tell me something weird has happened. First it was the phone calls, then the mysterious interview, then someone following you, and now this.

  Energized, I replied: I know! And that’s the second time I’ve been sent a photo! Who could have done it?

  She didn’t reply for an hour. I was frantically typing my way through the office’s workload when her message finally came through:

  Oh for God’s sake. I always think that if someone’s going through too much drama, it’s down to them. Something to think about?

  My face was hot when I read that. And then I remembered I hadn’t even told her about the half-empty mug of coffee. I was glad I hadn’t then.

  CHAPTER 54

  Ruby

  I started to become quite withdrawn. Sarah’s messages had upset me and made me realize that if she didn’t understand, nobody would. I hardly said a word at work, just saying “Good morning” and “Good night” to people who didn’t respond. When I got home at night I did nothing, just sat on the sofa, watching movies on my laptop, trying to figure out how I’d got into this mess and how I could get out of it.