Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect

by Knights, Sarah Catherine

  “We haven’t texted much, to be honest, and I’m not sure he’d tell me anyway. I hope he’s playing the field …”

  “He always had masses of friends at school …”

  “Yea, he’s sociable – everyone loves him. Even though he’s my little brother, I can say, all the girls love him. He’s funny, sporty and good-looking – he won’t be lonely out there, that’s for sure. Have you relaxed a bit about him now? You can’t worry about him for a year …”

  “I think I have, sort of. He’s sounding more mature somehow, even in his short messages. I do miss him …”

  “Well, it won’t be long till you see him again, will it? Have you booked your ticket?”

  “No, as soon as Christmas is over, though, I’m going to. I thought around the beginning of March?”

  “Woo-hoo, I’m well jeal. I wish I’d gone out there when I had the chance, especially as I’ve even got relatives out there I could have stayed with. Stupid.”

  “One day … maybe you and Jed could take a sabbatical?” I laugh, raising my eyebrows.

  “It’s a bit early days to be speculating about future holidays with him, Mum, but I wouldn’t say no.”

  “You’re keen, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes light up and she makes a coy, girlish face. “He’s special, Mum. He’s so lovely to me – thoughtful, kind and … he makes me laugh. We have such a giggle together. He teases me and … he’s gorgeous, as well,” she laughs.

  “I can’t wait to meet him properly. What time’s he coming over?”

  “He’s going to spend the morning with his Mum and Dad and be here for lunch.”

  “Shall we go to the pub?”

  “Yea, cool. That would be great and then maybe we could take Gaz for a walk. I don’t think Jed knows Bath that well.”

  I grab my phone. “I’ll just message Adam back.”

  Hi Adam, Happy Christmas! Holly and I are envious of your beach Christmas. It’s freezing here, but you’re right, you can’t beat an English Christmas lunch. Bath looks beautiful too with all the streets lit up at night. Glad you like your new job – still can’t imagine you cleaning! I’ve paid some money into your bank account today – rather than buying you something, I thought you could do with the money. Holly, Gaz and I are having a lovely day – just chilling now in front of the normal Christmas telly – we can watch Downton this year, without you and Dad complaining! Am going to buy my plane ticket soon. Can’t believe it! Love you, Mum x

  I press send and wonder what time it is in Byron Bay. Will it ping into his phone and be read immediately or be waiting for him when he wakes up? The thought of him so many miles away momentarily makes me sad, but then I look up and see Holly lying on the sofa and I’m grateful she’s with me.

  I miss David too. We used to have such lovely Christmases all together.

  *

  Do you remember the Christmas we spent down in Cornwall? The kids were little and we thought it would be fun to get away from it all, so we hired a cottage, right on the beach.

  We took so much with us in the car – the back was full of presents and decorations. The cottage smelt a bit damp when we got there, but we built a log fire and the central heating came on and it soon warmed up.

  We put up our decorations on Christmas Eve when the children were in bed – we even bought a small artificial tree with us and in the morning, the kids couldn’t believe that Father Christmas had found them, even though they weren’t at home.

  We still cooked the full Christmas lunch and while the turkey was roasting, we went for a wonderful walk along the beach. It was windy and the waves were huge; Adam insisted on looking for crabs in rock pools and you and Holly played football. We flew a kite, but it was too windy and the kite dive-bombed into the water-logged sand and we had to try and dry it out.

  We stayed until New Year’s Day. We walked and walked, that Christmas, all wrapped up, breathing the sea air, coming back to the cottage for hot chocolate and warm baths.

  Memories like that are so special, David … do you remember?

  *

  On Boxing Day, Jed arrives just before one and I can instantly see the bond between him and Holly. They do indeed make each other laugh all the time and they are constantly touching each other – Jed affectionately kissing her on the top of her head when they’re remembering something; Holly, sitting on his lap, curled up like a cat.

  He lives up to everything Holly has said about him – I can see his respect for her, he’s a true gentleman in the old-fashioned sense of the word – holding the door open for her (and me); pulling out chairs for us – and really listening to us. He seems genuinely interested in me too, asking all the right questions, complimenting me on the flat and asking all about Australia. It turns out he’s been there – to Perth and Darwin – much to Holly’s consternation.

  He’s wearing the same leather jacket he was wearing in the pub the first time they met and as I look at him across the table in my local, I can’t help thinking what gorgeous children these two would produce. A bit premature … but you just know when two people are made for each other, don’t you?

  “So, will you travel around Australia, Anna … you don’t mind if I call you Anna, do you?”

  “Don’t be daft, Jed, of course … call me Anna … I don’t think so … I’ll want to stay with my sister – Adam's coming to Adelaide … so probably not … but hopefully, I’ll get to know that area well.”

  “You’re going to love the lifestyle out there – everyone’s so outdoorsy and sporty and the food’s amazing. I couldn’t get over the beaches. I know we have good beaches here but, when you’ve seen an Australian beach … you get quite blasé about them in the end – oh, another thirty kilometre beach of pure white sand!”

  “Did you swim in the sea? The sharks put me off a bit …”

  “I did but … I know what you mean. In Darwin, you have to worry about crocodiles too – they can be on the beaches there.”

  “Oh my God … I think Adelaide will be quite enough for me. Not sure which is more terrifying - crocs or sharks!”

  “No, you’ll love it, Anna, you’ll see.”

  The more he talks about Australia, the more I want to go. It’s just what I need.

  By the time Jed leaves in the late evening, I’ve convinced myself that he’s ‘the one’ for Holly. He’s perfect for her in every way and I’d love it if they got married. I stupidly put this to Holly the moment he’s gone – I say ‘stupidly’ as I know they haven’t known each other that long and I don’t want to give their relationship the kiss of death before it’s started but … Holly’s always been so open with me about ‘boys’ and I want her take on it.

  “Let’s put it this way, Mum … I always said that my future husband had to …One, be GWP (good with parents). Two, love animals, particularly dogs (Gaz – what did you think?) Three, make me laugh. Four, be sporty and … Five, be lovely looking. I think Jed fills all those categories, don’t you?” she says, grinning in a love-sick way.

  “And more,” I say. “He’s really lovely, Holly. You’ve got a good one there.”

  I thought the same about David many moons ago – it should make me cynical about relationships, the way that turned out … but I have a good feeling about Jed. A really good feeling.

  “I know, Mum. We haven’t used the ‘L’ word yet, but I do … love him … and I think he loves me too.”

  “I think he does, too. I’m secretly getting excited … should I start looking for hats?” I laugh.

  “I’d say ‘yes’ in a heartbeat if he asked me … who knows? I don’t think you need to postpone your holiday or anything … but …”

  We hug each other and I feel happier than I’ve felt for ages. “I love you, Holly … it’s been so lovely having you here. Two girls together. I’ve always loved our girlie time.”

  “Me too, Mum. Me too.”

  *

  When Holly leaves on the 28th, I have to admit I feel somewhat devastated. I’m aware o
f being alone in the world again and I walk back to the flat from the station, with a heavy heart.

  I went onto the platform to say goodbye to her – as the train pulled out towards London, we waved to each other through the glass, Holly pulling a ‘sorry’ face at me, knowing how I felt. She’s always so sensitive and knows exactly how I’m feeling.

  Her face slips away and I wait while the whole train slides past me – I watch it until it disappears.

  Can there be a lonelier place than an empty platform? I don’t begrudge her going at all, she has some big party planned for New Year’s Eve, but I miss her so much, it hurts.

  When I reach the flat, I do my best to get on, to sort out the remaining boxes. I didn’t want to waste a moment while Holly was here, so now’s the time. Gaz plods around after me, getting in my way; I notice he’s limping a bit and sit him down and have a look at all four paws, in turn. I can’t see anything obvious – maybe there’s a thorn in a pad that my poor eyesight can’t see? I tell him to stop ‘putting it on’ and he gives me a hurt look as if to say, Show some sympathy, woman.

  He sits and stares at me and obligingly gives me his right front paw.

  “What do you want? Are you trying to just get food off me?”

  Well, yes, that would help a lot, actually.

  So I get up and give him one of his dog biscuits, which he hoovers down as if he hasn’t been fed for at least a week.

  *

  The next day, I decide to enjoy the novelty of being able to walk to the shops. I’ve got the whole day in front of me with nothing very much to do and after a lazy morning, I wander slowly round all the main areas, discovering little backstreets that, as a visitor in the past, I never had time to find.

  I come across a quaint little coffee shop, where I sit quietly reading the newspaper that was left on a chair. My phone pings. I look at it quickly and go to messages. Message Ben Jones.

  I do a slight double-take.

  Hi Anna! How are you getting on in your new flat? Just thought I’d drop you a line to say I meant what I said about helping. Maybe see you in the pub again soon? How’s Gaz by the way? Ben

  I stare at the message, surprised that he’s bothered to contact me. Nice of him, though. What on earth do I say back? So far, I don’t need any help in the flat – everything’s working fine – but if I say that, it sounds a bit unfriendly. I type quickly:

  Hi Ben. That’s so nice of you. Okay at the mo, but sure something will go wrong soon – life can’t be that easy, surely?! Gaz is fine, but a bit limpy – not sure what it is. See you in the pub soon I’m sure. Anna.

  I thought that sounded non-committal enough, but friendly. I start scrolling down through my Facebook timeline and see a picture of Adam and Jake. Somebody else must have taken it – or maybe it was a selfie – they’re both facing the camera, heads together, as tanned as real Aussies, sun streaked hair now long round their ears, caps on backwards. Like two peas in a pod. They look happy, healthy, excited … I’m so pleased for them; I can feel their zest for life pulsing through the screen of the phone.

  My phone pings again.

  Why don’t you and Gaz come to the pub on New Year’s Eve? There’s a bit of a party going on and it will be nice to see you both there. That’s if you haven’t got a better offer? Ben

  Well, I certainly haven’t got one of those, I think to myself. I’d been dreading New Year’s Eve alone in front of the telly, so it’s tempting to think of wood fires, gin and tonics and someone to talk to.

  It’s strange, but since coming to Bath, I’ve begun to realise that I haven’t got many friends – most of the ‘friends’ I’ve had in the past ten years have been ‘our’ friends and now that there’s no ‘our’, I’ve had to come to the conclusion that people have drifted away, as if it’s too hard for them to take sides. Lisa, of course, is a good friend, but she’s so busy with her kids and I feel on a different planet to her now. Laura’s such a long way a way … and all my acquaintances at school have gone into the part of my life marked ‘gone’.

  So, I press ‘reply’ and say, Good idea. No invites to parties forthcoming, so see you there. Anna.

  When the message goes winging off, I have a moment of panic – do I really want to go to a room full of strangers and be kissed by randoms, on the stroke of midnight? I’ve always hated that – why on earth did I say yes?

  But then I think, why not? I’ve got nothing to lose. (Just my dignity).

  I’m collecting up my things to leave the cafe, when the phone goes again. (Anyone observing me, would think I’ve got a social life).

  Great. See you there. I’ll probably go around 10, otherwise it’ll be a long evening. Ben.

  So, it’s done. I’m going.

  I go home soon after and tell Gaz about our outing. He shows no interest whatsoever, but at least it gives me something to think about.

  What shall I wear, Gaz? I haven't got a thing …

  I’m sure you’ll find something … He gets up, turns around in his bed and slumps down again, as if it’s the last thing he wants to discuss.

  *

  New Year’s Eve turns out to be remarkably good. When Gaz and I arrive, Ben is already ensconced by the fire; he greets us like long lost friends, kissing me briefly on the cheek and squatting down next to Gaz to give him a secret crisp.

  He introduces me to several people – a mixture of ages and types – and we all shout at each other above the loud music. Gaz wags his tail congenially and ingratiates himself on people, doing his I’m never fed and I’m beaten six times a day act to get food off them.

  I start off with a cider, vowing not to drink too much, but by 11 pm, I’m on the gin and tonic and can feel my head turning to mush. I hope I’m still making sense – I appear to be making perfect sense to myself, anyway.

  “So, what’s wrong with Gaz, then? You said he was limping?” says Ben, feeding him part of a bread roll.

  “Not sure … I can’t find anything wrong, but it seems to be getting worse each day. He didn’t want to come out tonight, but I forced him.”

  “Oh dear, Gaz, what’s the matter? Maybe you ought to take him to the vet?”

  “I think I might, if it doesn’t change. He hates the vet, don’t you, Gaz?”

  I’m aware that our conversation is focussing on Gaz again – so much easier than talking about anything else. I still can’t understand why this man is wasting his time on me – surely he has other friends he’d rather be with? I take a surreptitious look at him – he’s not wearing his paint-spattered clothes of course – jeans, suede tan boots, checked shirt open at the neck and a dark brown leather jacket. I can’t help thinking he’s rather gorgeous – his eyes are mesmerising – and becoming more so, as the night progresses.

  The alcohol is loosening my tongue and after a brief pause I say, “Anyway, enough of Gaz – why aren’t you out clubbing or something? I’m sure you must have friends in Bath you’d rather be with? Don’t feel you’ve got to entertain me or anything, I’ll be off to my bed soon.” (Why did I say that? It could be taken two ways: one, an invitation to join me in said bed or two, I’m the most boring woman on the planet, going to bed before midnight on New Year’s Eve.)

  “No, clubbing’s not my scene at all – never was, even when I was younger. You can’t leave before twelve, anyway – that’s the whole point!” He swigged from his beer. “After Grace left, I’ve found people we knew as a couple kind of drifted away … we had friends through Daisy who’ve disappeared … so no, in answer to your question, and in the words of the song, there’s no place I’d rather be. I love this pub and the company,” he grinned, and in my slightly inebriated state, I imagine a smile of something more than friendship.

  God, I really must get out more. There’s no way …

  Before I could stop myself I said, “How old are you, Ben? Sorry … that’s rude, but …”

  “No, I don’t mind. I’m forty-five. Mid-life, I think it’s called. How about you? I know you should never ask a
woman her age, you said you’d retired, but you look far too young …”

  “Well, that’s very kind of you to say, young sir, but … yes, I am retired – as a teacher you can take early retirement at fifty-five. So … now you know!”

  “I’d never have guessed, just looking at you. You keep yourself fit, I assume? Do you go to the gym or something?” Ben’s flattery seems natural, not forced and I glow inside, thinking, maybe … I don’t look so bad after all.

  “I try to swim as much as I can, which reminds me, I must start going again. I haven’t been anywhere near a pool since I got here. And of course, I’m always walking Gaz.”

  “My job’s pretty physical, so I don’t do much else – that’s my excuse, anyway. I love taking Daisy swimming when I can.”

  “When are you seeing her next?”

  “Hopefully, next Saturday. Grace is letting me have her for a sleep-over. Perhaps we could meet up – she’d love Gaz.”

  I’m quietly thinking to myself that there’s only a ten year age gap. Is it so improbable that this man is chatting me up? I can feel a connection, can’t I?

  Time drifts by … the owner of the pub puts on the TV, so that we can all see the celebrations in London. The clock is saying ten minutes to go, people are standing up and going to the bar to collect a glass of bubbly that our ticket includes. There’s a great atmosphere and the earlier thought of not wanting people to kiss me at midnight, has evaporated. As I look across at Ben, I quite look forward to it.

  “Shall we go to the bar too?” he says. “We can leave Gaz here in front of the fire. He doesn’t look as if he’s bothered either way.”

  “Yea, let’s,” I say and as we walk over to join the others, I feel Ben’s arm round my back. It’s a good feeling.

  Soon, the countdown begins and we all join in, shouting out the numbers and finally Happy New Year! As Ben turns to me, all smiles and openness, I have no qualms. He puts his arms around my shoulders, kisses one cheek, then the other and says, “Happy New Year, Anna! This is going to be a better year for you, I’m sure.” I kiss him back and say, “Hopefully … and for you too.” I like the feel of his lips on my cheek, the tickle of his stubble and the smell of him.