When You Walked Back Into My Life

by Hilary Boyd

  The day seemed very long, but even so, she didn’t want it to end. She knew what awaited her: a cold, empty flat and the task of confronting her sister. So when she left, instead of hurrying to the bus, she dawdled in the cold air, happy to exist in any limbo that delayed her homecoming.

  ‘Hey, Flora?’ The shout came from across the road. She turned and saw Simon Kent weaving through the traffic towards her, wrapped in his heavy tweed overcoat and red wool scarf. Her heart sank.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Thought it was you. You off home?’ His breath clouded the night air between them.

  ‘Yes. Long day.’

  ‘I’m sure. I don’t suppose you fancy a quick drink, do you?’ he said, then shook his head. ‘No, stupid of me. You’ll want to get home to Fin.’

  ‘Nope.’ She didn’t trust herself to say more.

  He waited.

  ‘OK, why not?’

  Without another word he pulled her into a pub on the corner. The warmth and noise were bliss to Flora, a welcoming cocoon of anonymous humanity.

  They found a couple of stools on the edge of a larger table, occupied by two men and a girl huddled in an intense conversation about their boss.

  The doctor brought her a glass of lime and soda, and half a lager for himself.

  ‘I won’t be very good company,’ Flora said, eyeing the lime juice with disdain. She wanted nothing more at that moment than a massive margarita.

  ‘Shall I ask you why not, or should we stick to the safety of our incontinence-pad dialogue?’

  Despite herself, she laughed. ‘Devil and the deep blue sea, I’m afraid.’

  He shot her a cautious glance. ‘At least call me Simon. We’ve known each other for more than two years and you always call me Dr Kent. Most colleagues these days call each other by their first names.’

  She smiled. ‘Right … Simon it is.’

  ‘It’s quite odd to see you out of that flat, you know. You only exist for me in the twilight world of Miss Dorothea Heath-Travis.’

  ‘A strange world indeed. I sometimes think people would give us a wide berth if they knew what we’d been up to all day.’

  ‘You mean the pee, poo and snot issue?’

  ‘For me it’s cleaning the false teeth every night.’ She shuddered. ‘Old food and denture fixative … yuk.’

  They sipped their drinks in silence, Flora resisting the impulse to tell him the tale of her humiliation. She couldn’t bear the flood of pity and concern guaranteed to follow.

  ‘Tell me something trivial and stupid,’ she said.

  ‘Stupid? You mean a joke? I only know one.’

  ‘Go on.’

  Simon shifted on his seat, clearly not at ease with her request. ‘If you insist. So, a man walks into a bar with a duck on his head. The bartender looks up and says, “Where did you get that ape?” The man says, “It’s not an ape, it’s a duck.” Bartender says, “I wasn’t talking to you.”’

  Flora couldn’t help smiling, not so much at the terrible joke but at the deadpan way Simon Kent delivered it.

  ‘Lame, isn’t it?’

  ‘Most jokes are.’

  ‘I think if you have the knack of telling them right …’

  Despite wanting to laugh with him, to have a normal conversation, she found she was only half-listening to what he was saying. And he knew there was something wrong, she could tell from the cautious glances he kept throwing her way. But she was grateful to him for not pressing her.

  ‘Listen … Simon … thanks for the drink, but I think I’d better get home.’

  He nodded, making no objection.

  ‘If you ever want to talk … I’m not just an idiot who tells bad duck jokes and makes you waltz in your pyjamas at midnight. I can listen.’

  She smiled her thanks. ‘I know.’

  They stood huddled on the corner in the biting wind saying their goodbyes, but she suddenly felt unable to take another step.

  ‘I think I’ll get a cab.’

  He peered at her. ‘You look terrible. Go back into the pub. I’ll find one.’

  She didn’t argue.

  Once home, she was restless, pacing around the furniture, everywhere noticing bits of Fin that he’d left behind: a dog-eared map of the Highlands, a sock poking out from under the sofa, the cup he must have drunk coffee from that morning. And each time it brought a new pain. She looked at her watch. It was after nine-thirty. Prue might be home.

  Can you come down? I need to talk to you. She texted her sister and sat down, phone clutched in hand, to wait. When she heard the upstairs door open, she quickly stood up, not wanting to be at a disadvantage.

  ‘Hi, darling.’ Prue scuffed down the steps in the pink woollen slipper-socks that Flora had given her for Christmas. As her head emerged into the room she grinned. ‘What’s up?’

  Flora could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The words would be irrevocable, she knew that. By saying them she would seal her own fate and that of her sister.

  ‘Fin told me.’

  Prue didn’t understand the significance at first. She plonked herself down on the sofa. ‘Told you what?’ She looked up at Flora questioningly.

  ‘Told me about you and him.’

  Prue stared at her. For a moment their eyes locked. ‘Bastard. I knew he’d cave eventually.’

  Flora watched her shoot to her feet, just as Fin had done, coming towards her as if to embrace her. She wanted to back off, but she found she couldn’t move.

  But her sister stopped short of touching her. She just peered into Flora’s face, her own frowning, mouth twisting.

  ‘Darling, listen. I know it sounds really terrible, and if I were you I’d be upset, of course I would. But you’ve got to realise, it was just a meaningless thing.’

  ‘So that’s it, is it?’

  Prue shrugged. ‘I hate myself now for having done it, but at the time we just got carried away. Flora, please … it was a pointless, stupid moment. Just sex. You should never have found out.’ She looked around the flat. ‘Where’s Fin?’

  ‘He’s gone.’

  ‘Oh, darling. You haven’t split up because of this have you? That’s madness. You’re having his baby.’

  ‘How often did you see him?’

  She saw her sister hesitate, probably wondering what Fin had said. ‘Just a couple of times. He was the one who drove it, not me.’

  ‘Funny, that’s exactly what Fin said about you.’

  ‘Well, he would. He’s never exactly been Mr Truthful, has he?’

  ‘He said it went on for a year. You say it was just twice. Who do I believe?’

  ‘A year! That’s ridiculous.’ Her voice was shrill and tinny. ‘It was a couple of times over the summer, that’s all.’

  That’s all? Flora thought. All? She didn’t believe her anyway. Fin, in his entirely selfish way, had seemed to be the one telling the truth. She wondered why she needed to know the details. They were hardly relevant, but they seemed all she could grasp onto in this unbelievable scenario.

  Prue sighed. ‘I’m so sorry you had to find out. But please, I beg you, don’t wreck your child’s future because of a stupid infidelity over three years ago.’

  Flora didn’t reply at once, her thoughts with the baby growing inside her. What sort of future will I be able to give her? she wondered.

  At last, she said, ‘Me and Fin … it’s not just about what happened with you. That’s just the icing on the cake, if you like.’

  Her sister continued to gaze at her, an irritating look of concern on her face, as if Flora were the one at fault here, for caring so much.

  ‘Umm … about Philip and Bel …’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Flora cut in, ‘your secret’s safe with me. I wouldn’t put either of them through that. Not that you deserve it … or them.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Flora. Don’t be pious. I’m sorry, really, really sorry. It’s horrible to see you so upset and know that I’m to blame. And I agree it was a bad mistake. But in the end i
t was just sex.’

  Flora gasped at Prue’s nonchalance, even knowing her cavalier attitude to sexual relationships in general. ‘You don’t seem to think it’s important at all! My sister fucks the man I love and he leaves me, and you think I should just roll over and forget about it?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. But that’s exactly my point, it wasn’t important.’ She gave a frustrated sigh. ‘You can’t blame me for him leaving. That was entirely his decision.’

  Flora suddenly had a moment of blind fury.

  ‘Go, please … just go away.’

  Prue looked shocked. ‘Alright … OK … but I did warn you about that man. I told you not to get involved with him again, that you’d never be able to trust him. But you wouldn’t listen, and now look what’s happened.’

  Flora turned away. She could no longer look at her sister. Prue seemed almost baffled by her distress. And worse, she seemed to blame her, Flora, for the whole thing.

  *

  As she worked through the week, mostly on a sort of numb autopilot, Flora wondered what she should do. She hadn’t spoken to Prue since their talk, and she didn’t want to, refusing to reply to her sister’s many attempts to call her. Her problem was how she could go on being normal in front of Bel and Philip. And how could she continue living in the flat and taking her sister’s patronage? She wanted to pack her things and move out. But she had nowhere to go, and no money to rent anything more than a room in a flat-share on the outskirts of London, miles away from work.

  Her predicament created a permanent state of anxiety, gnawing away at her gut day in, day out, with no appreciable let-up. Her current job would end soon and she wouldn’t be able to work for many more months anyway, because of the lifting involved. She would have maternity pay from the agency – she’d checked that – but it wouldn’t be enough to be independent of Prue. She had no savings, and Fin wouldn’t be much help. But the worst aspect of it all was not the practical one. It was that she felt terrifyingly alone. The two people she most depended on had disappeared from her life almost overnight. How would she cope through the long months of pregnancy, the birth, the first weeks of her baby’s life, without the support of her sister and Fin? Or anyone else?

  *

  ‘I’m going to get you out while I do the bed.’ She began lifting Dorothea’s now feather-light frame until the old lady was sitting upright, then swung her legs over the edge of

  the bed. She was still in her nightdress and her legs were exposed, thin as matchsticks and mottled a purplish-pink in places.

  ‘Dominic is coming today,’ Flora told her.

  ‘I’m glad … it’s him,’ she said. There had been a flurry of visitors that week. People from her past who must have been informed by Rene that the old lady was fading, and whose conscience required they see her one more time: the old man from down the hall who was almost completely deaf; a couple from her church; the woman who used to clean for her before the nurses took over; Reverend Jackson, the bumptious vicar. The visits had been awkward. Most people didn’t really know how to be with a dying person, Flora had long ago discovered. They either sat mute and anxious, eyes swishing in search of potential help. Or they talked and talked about their own lives with determined jollity, but with scant reference to Dorothea lying in the bed beside them. Dominic, with his self-important but familiar bluster, would be a relief to them both.

  Dorothea perked up when she saw her great-nephew. He employed his usual flattering banter with the old lady, but, although Flora was pretty sure she saw through him, she seemed to enjoy his company. He made a point of entertaining her as she lay propped up regally in her state-of-theart bed; he pranced round the room, cup and saucer in hand, giving them both chapter and verse on the various antiques dotted about the room.

  ‘Take this,’ he said, picking up the little silver dish Flora had chosen as the piece she would like to have after Dorothea died. ‘This is such a pretty bit of Arts and Crafts.’ He turned it over and examined the side of the dish, running his finger across the rubbed hallmark. ‘Birmingham 1919 … A.E. Jones. Jones was such a talent, and so little is written about his work.’

  He waved the bowl at his great-aunt. ‘This would get a fair old price at auction, Aunt Dot, if you’ve a mind to sell it.’

  Dorothea waved her hand. ‘I … think … I have given Flora that one.’

  Dominic spun round to where she was packing up the tea tray.

  ‘Flora?’ He gave her a suspicious stare. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Dorothea insisted I choose something that I liked, to remember her by.’ His expression made her feel almost guilty.

  ‘I see. And you chose this one. Good choice.’ He raised his eyebrows just a fraction.

  ‘I had no idea it was valuable. I just liked it,’ she told him in a whisper, while picking up the tray. As she walked towards the door she addressed the old lady. ‘Please don’t hang onto the silver dish because of me, Dorothea, if you’d like Dominic to sell it.’

  But the old lady shook her head firmly. ‘I have … given it to you.’ She waved her hand at him. ‘You can find something else I’m sure.’

  Dominic followed her into the kitchen.

  ‘Flora, I, er … don’t take this the wrong way, but should you be taking presents from Aunt Dot? I’m not being funny, but as you said before, it’d be easy for someone in your position to take advantage … once you cross that line.’

  She was about to reply, her face scarlet with indignation, when he rushed on.

  ‘Of course I know you’d never do that. I just think it looks bad … if you let her give you things, sort of sends the wrong message to the other nurses. You get what I’m saying?’

  Flora had to take a deep breath before replying, tempted as she was to say something seriously rude.

  ‘Your great-aunt begged me to choose something of hers. I said I didn’t think it was appropriate, but she absolutely insisted. It was impossible to refuse, and I think she’d have been hurt if I had. Like I didn’t care about her.’

  Dominic nodded his head in his wise-owl manner, pushing his glasses up his nose.

  ‘Hmm … I see. Yes, perhaps you were put in a tricky position. And of course, it’s not something you have to follow through on when … you know.’

  Flora put the cup she was washing down on the draining board and turned to face him full on.

  ‘I never wanted or asked for anything from Dorothea, but these are her possessions, Dominic. Don’t you think she has the right to give them away if she chooses?’ She could hear the quietly controlled tone of her voice and was proud of herself. ‘She’s still completely compos mentis … and Rene knows.’

  Dominic held his hands up, palms towards her. ‘Please, I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Flora. You look upset, but I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. You’re a very special person doing a brilliant job, no doubt about that. I was just concerned that maybe Aunt Dot was on a bit of a spree … you know, handing out stuff willy-nilly to anyone passing.’ He blinked his eyes as if he were fighting back the tears. ‘I’m like you, I’m just trying to protect that darling woman.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, well, I don’t think you need to worry on that score. The only things belonging to Dorothea that have left this flat have been those you yourself have taken away to sell.’

  His pale eyes looked at her, considering her words for a moment as if he were uncertain as to what she was implying. Then he obviously decided to take her at face value.

  ‘Good-good. That’s a relief.’ He forced a thin smile to his chubby cheeks. ‘Sorry to have brought up something so unpleasant, but one has to face the fact that old people are hugely vulnerable.’ His tone was so pious and preachy she wanted to smack him.

  ‘True. Rene and I are very aware of that.’

  Dominic moved into the hall muttering to himself. ‘Right then, better be off. Bye, Flora. Glad we had the chat.’

  ‘Has Dominic gone?’ Dorothea wanted to know. ‘I … thought I h
eard his voice.’

  ‘Just now, yes.’

  Her eyes looked up at Flora, suddenly beady. ‘He’s a dear boy … but his mother rather spoilt him. He was an only child you see.’ She smiled at Flora, ‘One child, three fools, my mother used to say.’

  *

  Arriving home later, she paused in the street a few doors down from the house. She was worried that Prue, who knew exactly when she got home in the evening, would be lying in wait for her. And perhaps it would be better to swallow her pride and make some sort of peace with her sister. As it stood, she was no longer at ease in her own home.

  But it was Bel who came bursting through the upstairs door before Flora had time to take her coat off. She rushed at her aunt and held her in a tight embrace.

  ‘I’ve been watching out for you,’ Bel said, when she had released Flora. She could see the distress on her niece’s face.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Mum and Dad. They haven’t spoken to each other since Monday when they had this terrible row – I could hear them shouting at each other downstairs after I’d gone to bed. Dad’s moved into the spare room, but they won’t tell me why or anything. It’s really, really horrible.’ The words came in a rush, followed almost immediately by tears. Bel just stood there in her light grey sweat-shirt and black leggings, her arms folded tight across her chest, making no attempt to wipe them away. Flora went to get a piece of kitchen towel and handed it to her.

  ‘Are they going to get a divorce?’ Bel’s voice was very small.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ She drew her over to the sofa.

  ‘You must know what it’s about, Flora. Mum tells you everything. What’s she said? Has Dad done something wrong? Please, please tell me.’

  Flora was paralysed. It seemed obvious that the row must be about Fin, but she didn’t know for certain that it was. And why would Prue suddenly confess when Flora had promised she wouldn’t say anything?

  ‘I haven’t spoken to Prue since the weekend, darling. I honestly don’t know what’s going on between them.’