by Amy Miller
Heidi’s words drifted off. Zoe shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I asked her if she was a customer and she said no and that it was a personal matter. She asked who I was and what my name was. I didn’t know whether to tell her! She wanted to come in and wait for you in the house. Really pushy.’
Zoe looked incredulous and Heidi widened her eyes.
‘I said that I didn’t know what time you’d be back,’ she continued, ‘and I asked whether she had a number I could get you to call her on instead. She scribbled on this piece of paper and said she’d wait in the Anchor until 7 p.m. So that’s another two hours.’
Zoe handed her the piece of paper. There was a phone number written in black pen. Heidi’s head was spinning. Was this someone to do with William? Or…
‘Did she give you her name?’ asked Heidi. ‘What did she look like?’
‘She said her name was Tuesday,’ said Zoe. ‘Never heard anyone called Tuesday before. She made a joke of it, she said: “I know it’s Friday but I’m Tuesday” before laughing madly. She’s quite loud and in your face. She had loads of curly hair under a bright red beret. Her hair was dyed pink, despite her being in her what, late fifties, early sixties? Something about her totally freaked me out. And you, Leo – didn’t she freak you out too?’
Leo nodded and said, ‘Yeah, totally freaked me out,’ then quickly checked his phone, his transitional object.
The blood drained from Heidi’s face and she felt as if she was floating above herself and watching events unfold. Tuesday had come to her house. Yes, Heidi had given her address, thinking that Tuesday might like to write to her if not respond directly on Facebook, but had never dreamed for a single moment that she would arrive at the door. Wasn’t that a little forward?
‘Oh God,’ said Heidi, sinking into a kitchen chair, her bag flopping onto the floor, Johnny’s camera catching her eye.
‘What is it, Mum?’ said Zoe.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ said Heidi. ‘Just someone I got in touch with and didn’t expect to hear from. It’s a bit complicated. Look, I’ll explain it all later if that’s okay. I should go and see her while she’s waiting in the pub. Are you okay to get yourselves some dinner? There’s a pizza and salad in the fridge.’
Zoe sighed and looked suddenly wan. Heidi stood up, her mind already walking towards the pub.
‘Yes, sure,’ she said. ‘But, Mum, there’s something I need to talk to you about too. You’re always so busy, I feel like I need to make an appointment with you. If you’re not working, you’re out somewhere – I don’t know where.’
Heidi already had one arm pushed into her coat and was picking up her bag.
‘Is this about deferring your course?’ said Heidi. ‘Because we can talk when I get back? I promise. I won’t be long.’
Zoe turned away from her and faced a cupboard where the cereal was kept, which she opened and closed without purpose.
‘Fine,’ said Zoe, her voice almost a whisper.
Heidi hesitated, feeling torn, but she knew the discussion could wait – and Tuesday wouldn’t. She left the kitchen as it was, opened the front door and rushed out into the cold darkness.
The Anchor was an oven. Hot air and noise blasted Heidi’s senses. They lived close by, yet she’d been inside the pub only a handful of times. Johnny had enjoyed a pint there with Max, but the pub wasn’t really Heidi’s scene. Now, gingerly, she walked in and moved through the groups of people either holding drinks and chatting or waiting to be served. Her entire body pounded with the drum of her heart; her legs felt made of air and her mouth dry. Her gaze fell on a woman sitting at a table in the corner, sipping a glass of red wine. Nobody could miss that pink hair. There was no doubt in her mind that it was Tuesday. And sensing that someone was staring at her – in that peculiar way humans do – Tuesday looked up. Their eyes met in a moment of startled recognition, before Tuesday leaped up from her seat and waved enthusiastically, all teeth and big eyes.
‘Heidi?’ Tuesday yelled. ‘Is that you? Yes, it’s you!’
Several people in the pub turned to see who was bellowing but quickly returned to their drinks and conversation. Heidi moved to the table Tuesday was sitting at, not knowing what she was going to say, but it didn’t matter because Tuesday had that covered.
‘It’s SO wonderful to meet you!’ she said, throwing her arms around Heidi and pulling her close into her body. Heidi was overwhelmed by fragrance, a scent she recognised as patchouli oil.
‘This is my half-sister!’ she said to the table of people who had turned to see what the commotion was about. They smiled and returned to their drinks.
‘My half-sister,’ Tuesday continued. ‘I can’t bloody well believe it. I was overwhelmed to get your message, Heidi. It just popped up! I was going to email you back, but I thought “no”, I’ll do this properly and I’ll turn up in person! Why wait any longer? I’m not a woman to do things by half. Do you know, I once bought everyone at a packed bar a shot of sambuca? I don’t know why. I just thought “Why not?” and everyone was so pleased and happy until some bright spark told me I was just lonely and wanted people to notice me. He had a point, I suppose – why do you think I have pink hair? But anyway. Will you have a red wine? I bought a bottle and got a glass for you. Presumptuous of me, I know, but if you’re anything like me… I said to myself, if you don’t come I’ll drink the lot! Drown my sorrows. If you’d rather have something else, I’ll go straight to the bar and get you whatever you like. I’m so delighted to meet you, I can hardly believe I’m here and I can’t stop talking, can I? Right that’s it, I’ll stop.’
Tuesday pinched her lips closed with her fingers but still continued to make murmuring noises as if the words were struggling to get out. Heidi erupted with laughter and Tuesday released her lips, joining her. Heidi was struck by Tuesday’s radiance. Pink hair, red lips, blue eyes and a golden complexion. A coral-coloured blouse and a string of pinkish beads. A giant, smiling peach. Tuesday held up the bottle of wine, ready to pour.
‘Thank you,’ Heidi said, her voice tremulous. ‘Thank you. I’m… I’m… quite stunned actually.’
She took off her coat, feeling incredibly hot under Tuesday’s grinning gaze.
‘I’m so very happy to meet you!’ Tuesday said again, pouring Heidi a glass of wine full to the brim. ‘This feels bizarre, doesn’t it? To think, we share genes! I’ve always wanted a sister! One exactly like you.’
‘Me too,’ mumbled Heidi, embarrassed but also delighted.
Heidi swallowed a big gulp of the wine, followed by another and another, until her glass was empty, before placing it back down on the table. Tuesday immediately refilled it – and she drank again.
‘I have so many questions,’ said Tuesday. ‘I’ve wondered what my mother is like my entire life – and of course I didn’t know I had a sibling. Yet here you are. And you have children and a family, and I just met Zoe – what a lovely girl. Those eyes! What’s our mother like? I know we have different fathers, but that’s all I know. Tell me everything. I want to know everything. I’ve always wanted to know the details, since I was nine years old, when I was told about the adoption. I wondered what perfume she wore, whether she worked, what colours she liked, poems, quiet or loud, her strengths and weaknesses.’
Heidi gulped. ‘Gosh, well, perfume, she wore Guerlain’s Mitsouko when I was a child. Now she wears a rose fragrance from somewhere; I’m not sure where. She wears flowy clothes and lots of prints, a bit like you. I’m not aware of her reading much poetry, but she enjoyed fiction. She still does – often has her nose in a book. Though gardening is what she enjoys at the moment. She thinks Monty Don is marvellous. She’s not an actually loud person, but she’s quietly loud. She can make her presence known with her posture. She is a “chin up” type of person. I haven’t seen her cry very often. Her weaknesses, hmm, that’s a difficult one. I think she hasn’t known how to cope in certain situations and rather than be honest, she’s buried the way she rea
lly feels. If that makes any sense! And she can’t say no to a fresh cream chocolate eclair.’
Tuesday’s eyes were wide open, and she sat perfectly still, listening to the details, absorbed.
‘I’ve said too much,’ said Heidi, aware that Rosalind didn’t even know about this meeting and would not approve. ‘Do you feel any resentment towards her?’
Heidi took another gulp of her wine. It seemed that the future was hanging on Tuesday’s response, because what she said might be how William felt. Did he, beside the many problems he seemed to have, resent Heidi? Perhaps he blamed her for everything that had gone wrong in his life.
‘Not at all,’ said Tuesday emphatically. ‘I was brought up to believe that my biological mother had done a kind thing by putting me up for adoption. That she was a young girl, unmarried at a time when that was frowned upon, and didn’t really have a choice then, in the 1950s. Besides, my mum and dad are wonderful. They’ve recently moved to France, which was their dream. I’ll miss them. I told my mum that I was coming today and she was fully supportive. Does Rosalind live locally? She wrote to me some years ago in reply to a letter from me, saying it wasn’t the right time for us to be in contact, but I guess now, she’s decided it is time and asked you to be in touch with me?’
Heidi froze. Of course she hadn’t told Rosalind that she’d contacted Tuesday – and she knew that she wouldn’t take the news that they’d met well. She blushed.
‘I… I… yes she does live close by, but…’ started Heidi, before taking another gulp of wine. ‘I haven’t… I don’t…’
‘Oh,’ said Tuesday, her expression suddenly stricken. ‘You haven’t told her you emailed me?’
Heidi was crushed by Tuesday’s disappointment. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘But I’m planning to. I will do. Tomorrow. I thought I’d wait to see if you got back in touch first. And now you have, so I will.’
There was a moment of silent tension between them and Heidi felt terribly guilty.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Tuesday, working hard to conceal any hurt she felt. ‘Let’s get to know each other first. Meeting you is more than enough!’
Tuesday ordered a second bottle of wine and they sat huddled in the corner for the next hour and a half. Heidi drank more wine than she had in months. Tuesday told Heidi about her life; growing up in London with her adopted brother, a teacher for a mother and a scientist for a father. There had been a love affair with an German chef that lasted almost a decade and when it broke down, nobody else compared. She lost energy when she spoke about him; as if the memory literally drained her. But, she said, buoying herself up, she loved horses and the outdoors and cooking. She ran a mobile catering business, from an adapted pale-blue converted vintage horsebox, attending festivals and weddings and any outdoor event. She spoke with passion and energy – the words spilling out of her – and every now and then she nervously clutched her bead necklace, moving it back and forth around her neck.
‘Every year I go on holiday to Germany to—’ Tuesday started, before stopping. ‘Actually, I won’t go into that now. I’m not proud of myself.’
Heidi frowned, guessing that perhaps she visited the German chef – and that perhaps he wasn’t single.
‘We all do things we’re not proud of,’ said Heidi hurriedly, the wine temporarily expelling her anxiety. Her head spun with the alcohol, and her lips felt rubbery as she talked, but once she started talking, she also couldn’t stop. Though she’d talked a little to Simone about her feelings since Johnny’s death, now she unbuttoned completely and told Tuesday almost everything – Johnny’s sudden death, finding William. Tuesday was suitably stunned and full of sympathy.
‘Have you told your daughters about me?’ said Tuesday.
Heidi shook her head. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘They’ve had a lot to take in recently.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It sounds like it. I’d love to meet them properly. When can I meet them? I’m desperate to meet them – my nieces! How about now?’
Swept up in Tuesday’s enthusiasm, Heidi tried to think clearly, but her brain was muddled by wine and weary with emotion.
‘Um, I should probably—’ she began, but Tuesday interrupted.
‘I’m sorry, I’m being too forward,’ she said. ‘It’s one of my faults. I put people off with my eagerness. Why don’t I come over at the weekend instead? I’ll bring a pudding and I can get to know your girls. Perhaps you can persuade Rosalind to come along too? Life is short. Let’s seize the moment, Heidi. It’s the only way to live life.’
Heidi nodded, overwhelmed and drunk. ‘Perhaps it is,’ she managed to say, a faint, distant alarm ringing in her ears.
By the time she arrived home, Zoe had already gone to bed. Heidi hovered outside her daughter’s closed bedroom door, wanting to rush in and shake her awake, to tell her about Tuesday. And William. But though her mind was swimming, rational thought pushed to the surface. When she spoke to Zoe and Scarlet, she needed to be clear-headed and calm, not slurring her words. Tonight, she was drunk. More drunk than she’d been in a long time. It was nice actually, she thought, to be drunk. The world felt softer.
She splashed her face with cold water and patted it dry with a towel, then stared at her reflection, thinking about Tuesday. She’d liked her – a lot. Tomorrow she would speak to Rosalind and tell her that she was a lovely person. Perhaps by meeting her like this, she was only doing what Johnny was doing when he met William.
‘Oh, Johnny,’ she sighed as she stumbled into her bedroom and closed the door.
She lay on Johnny’s side of the bed, still fully dressed. In the darkness, the ceiling appeared to move in waves. Her ears were ringing with snippets of Tuesday’s conversation, and images of William’s flat ran, like broken scenes from a film, in her mind. How she longed to speak to Johnny and hear his voice. Where was he now?
Pulling a pillow from his side into her stomach, she hugged it tight, her mind wandering to the bag of William’s shopping that he’d left in the car and of Johnny’s camera, which needed to be charged. She sat up and checked the clock, the numbers swimming before her eyes. Midnight. Perhaps she could charge the camera now, so she could return it – and the shopping – to William in the morning. That would give her another excuse to see him. She felt compelled to see him, to help him. She knew he was in difficulty.
She resisted the strong, alcohol-driven urge to go now, on foot. To run there. To hammer on the door. Her heart pounded with anticipation, but she knew she must sleep. She must still her thoughts.
Half pulling the duvet over herself, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for sleep.
Twenty
Sleep didn’t come, not really. At 4 a.m., Heidi decided to get up, because there was no point tossing and turning for another two hours.
Creeping downstairs, she retrieved the camera from her bag and went outside to charge the battery. This would give her the perfect excuse to visit William again – and to give him the bag of food shopping. Remembering the cornflakes and milk in the bag, she felt a new sense of urgency. That was his breakfast. If she didn’t get there quickly, he wouldn’t have anything for breakfast!
Buoyed by her decision to go straight away, she waited a few minutes until there was enough power in the battery for her to view the photos on the camera. Then, she pressed the play button and the first image floored her.
‘Johnny,’ she said to the empty room, unable to tear her eyes away from the beautiful photograph of her husband, taken at a table in the Blackbird Café, a window behind him framing him in gentle golden sunlight. William had captured him perfectly. Johnny’s mouth was slightly open, mid-laugh, and he was leaning forward in his chair, hands on his knees. The warmth in his eyes and the joy in his expression proved to Heidi everything she needed to know about his feelings towards William. He seemed lit from within, absolutely present in a precious moment.
‘Wow,’ Heidi said, gently scrolling through several more images of Johnny. William had taken at least a dozen shots and e
ach one felt, to Heidi, like a gift.
‘Mum?’ said Zoe, from the doorway. ‘Are you alright? Couldn’t you sleep?’
Heidi looked up, the wine from the previous night suddenly making itself known as a monumental headache. She lifted a hand to her forehead and rubbed.
‘No, I couldn’t sleep,’ she said. ‘Bit of a headache. Are you okay? Why are you up? Shouldn’t you go back to bed?’
‘I could ask you the same question. What are you doing out here?’ Zoe said, rubbing her eyes. ‘I waited up for you last night, but you stayed out so late. It’s like we’ve reversed roles! I want to know about that woman. Tuesday. Who is she?’
Heidi swallowed, aware that she didn’t have much time if she was to reach William’s house in time for breakfast. If she told Zoe about Tuesday now, she’d ask questions, and Heidi needed to give her time. Also, how could she tell her about Tuesday without telling her about William?
‘I know I seem secretive,’ said Heidi, stuffing the camera into a bag with the battery charger. ‘But I need to talk to both of you – Scarlet and you – together. A few things have happened. Big things, since Dad died.’
‘What big things? He wasn’t having an affair, was he?’ asked Zoe. ‘With Tuesday? Not Dad. He’d never do that!’
‘No,’ said Heidi. ‘It’s nothing like that. Not at all. Dad would never do that.’
‘Then why not tell me now?’ said Zoe, frowning. ‘I’m fed up with this!’
Heidi felt guilty. Zoe was being punished and it wasn’t fair, but she needed Scarlet and Zoe to be together when she explained. Now wasn’t the right moment.
‘I’ve got to go out,’ Heidi said. ‘I’ve got to return this camera to someone before 9 a.m. They need it… for an event. I’ll speak to you later.’
Heidi hated herself for lying and was amazed at how easily the lies tripped from her lips.
‘It’s as if you’re avoiding me,’ Zoe said sadly. ‘Why are you avoiding me?’