Sooo Not Looking For a Man: A witty, heart-warming and poignant, feel-good journey.

by CJ Morrow

  ‘It’ll be great, Dad,’ I say, like I give a toss.

  ‘Good, I’ll make a start this weekend.’

  I smile my biggest smile because my family are trying so hard to help me and I’m just being miserable. I know they understand but God, I’m sick of me, so they must be.

  Leeward evidently was.

  No, he wasn’t. He was going to marry me.

  ‘Tea’s ready,’ Dad says as he leaves the room. I pull myself up, sort myself out and go downstairs where I can hear animated chat and laughter in the kitchen.

  ‘Cat.’ I feel genuinely pleased to see her.

  ‘Lauren. How’s the wrist?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ I wave it about like a lobster claw.

  ‘Hair looks amazing.’ She walks around me to get a better view. ‘So much better. Definitely more you.’

  ‘Apart from the colour.’ I smile and don’t add that the colour was all Leeward’s idea.

  ‘It’ll grow out.’

  ‘When it does, I’ll have it cut short, very short. Are you staying for tea?’

  ‘Yes. I come for tea every week while Nat’s at her dancing class. It’s near here, so saves me going back and forth. I get to spend some quality time with my family.’ She places exaggerated emphasis on the last sentence. ‘Even Grimmy,’ she adds quietly, turning her head towards me.

  ‘I heard that,’ Grimmy says, plonking herself down at the table. ‘I’m not deaf.’

  Cat doesn’t reply, instead pulling up a chair.

  ‘Lasagne,’ Mum announces, placing it on the table.

  ‘My favourite.’ Cat laughs. ‘Mum always cooks my favourite when I come for tea.

  ‘Yes, every damn week,’ Grimmy grumbles.

  No one responds.

  During tea we talk about things that have nothing to do with me or my nearly wedding. I even laugh at one of Cat’s stories about her boys. It sounds like chaos in her house, but fun. When she suggests that I come round tomorrow I realise that I’ve hardly been to her house for years. I don’t even know why.

  Yes I do. Leeward doesn’t like Cat.

  ∞∞∞

  At Cat’s the next day we sit in her garden drinking orange and lemonade with sprigs of mint.

  ‘This is lovely,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, I find it refreshing. The mint just sets it off.’

  ‘No, I mean sitting here with you in your lovely garden.’

  ‘Grass needs cutting, Paul usually does it on Saturday mornings.’ I see her wince when she realises what’s she’s said.

  ‘Oops,’ I say for her and manage a laugh.

  ‘Sorry.’

  I shake my head. ‘I have something for you. Oh, and the girls.’

  ‘Have you?’

  After rummaging in my bag, I find the bridesmaids’ gifts. I pass Cat the brooch, still in its pretty silver paper and tied with a blue bow.

  She opens it and her eyes light up.

  ‘Oh but…’ she starts.

  ‘No but. I can hardly take it back. Anyway, you went above and beyond in the maid of honour stakes, you’ve more than earned it.’

  Cat considers this for a moment or two. ‘You’re right. It’s lovely. I can put it on my jacket.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what Mum said.’ I smile just to let her know I’m pleased she likes it and, moreover, will wear it. ‘Can you give these to all the little bridesmaids.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I messaged him…’ I say suddenly, letting the words hang in the air as I take another sip of my drink.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did he reply?’

  ‘No, but he’s read it.’

  Right then, right on cue my phone pings. I grab it as Cat sits with her eyebrows raised in question.

  ‘Kenton.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I read out his message. I know you probably don’t want me to pester you what with everything that’s gone on between you and Leeward, but I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you. Any time. Day or night. If I can do anything, and I mean anything, just message me.

  ‘Cheeky bastard,’ Cat echoes my thoughts. ‘Now reply nicely.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Reply nicely. There will be things you do need to know and if Leeward isn’t communicative, a spy in the camp will be useful.’ She gives me a wicked grin.

  ‘You are so bad.’ But I’m already composing a gushing response. ‘I must try not to punish Kenton for what Leeward has done.’ I’m serious too.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Cat says, her face devoid of any expression.

  ‘Stop it.’ I laugh, too much.

  ‘That’s good. Seeing you laugh.’ She leans over and pats my knee.

  ‘Haven’t had a lot to laugh about. Still don’t.’

  ‘No. Okay. I think you can have a month.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A month to wallow in self-pity then you have to pull yourself together, sort your life out and move on.’

  ‘Just like that.’ She’s joking, isn’t she?

  Cat shrugs her big sister shrug, the one she used to use when I fell over when we were kids, it was usually preceded by stop making a fuss, you’re okay.

  She’s tough is my sister.

  ‘We were together for ten years. I feel like he’s died.’

  Another shrug.

  ‘I know you never liked him. Any of you.’ I’m annoyed now.

  ‘He never liked us. I think that came first.’

  Did it? Is that true?

  ‘I can’t talk about it now.’ I stand up, my intention is to leave but I remember I can’t drive and even if I could I no longer have a car.

  ‘A month,’ Cat says, grabbing her car keys.

  Seven

  December

  I needed to wallow for slightly longer than the month Cat allocated me. In the end it was my final trip to the fracture clinic that made me realise that I really didn’t have such a hard life, although I still have my down days.

  I was there to get my cast off, the lightweight fibreglass one that replaced the hideous plaster back slab put on in A&E. I was so relieved to see it gone, no more itching or smelling. I will never forget the odour of stale cheese mixed with vinegar that emanated from under the cast. I sat in the waiting room smiling to myself as I waited to see the doctor for my final signoff.

  The little old lady who came into the waiting room smiled at everyone, and I do mean everyone. She was small and frail looking, she reminded me of Grimmy though not as old. She still had the plaster back slab on her broken wrist, which meant her break was probably less than two weeks old. A nurse walking past stopped on her way through.

  ‘Mary, how are you? How have you done that?’

  ‘Just tripped on a step,’ Mary answered, her beaming smile making it sound like she’d won the lottery.

  ‘What’s happening with Sally?’ The nurse’s face took on an air of genuine concern.

  ‘We’ve had a carer in twice a day, so that has helped, though not for the first 72 hours.’ Mary laughed.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. You’re still so jolly, I don’t know how you manage to keep smiling.’

  ‘You have to,’ Mary said, laughing. ‘Otherwise you’d just go under, wouldn’t you?’ Another smile.

  ‘I suppose so. Where’s Sally now?’

  ‘Coming in with my niece. They’re just in the shop downstairs. Bit of a day out for Sally.’ The smile vanished temporarily to be replaced by a half grimace. ‘Ah, here they are.’ She turned, as we all did, to see Sally and the niece fighting their way in through the heavy door, Sally’s large wheelchair, complete with neck brace, making the job difficult.

  The nurse ran over to help and stopped to say hello to Sally.

  I looked at Mary, old and frail. Hers looked like a hard life.

  By comparison, I’m very lucky.

  I pulled myself up after that. Mostly. Except on the dark days when I couldn’t stop crying.

  ∞∞∞

/>   Leeward never replied to my message, nor the subsequent ten or more I sent late at night or after I’d had a glass or two of wine. Maybe he was too ashamed of what he’d done. Maybe he was just mad at me because I humiliated him on our non-wedding day.

  Kenton messaged me weekly, short friendly messages asking how I was. I always replied. More than once I asked him how Leeward was. He usually just replied with a curt he’s fine. Whether he’d been instructed not to say anything to me or whether he just didn’t want to talk about his brother, I don’t know.

  I mentioned it to Cat.

  ‘Course he doesn’t want to talk about Leeward. He’s not interested in Leeward.’

  ‘Why not, they’re brothers.’

  Cat laughed louder. ‘Honestly, you can be thick sometimes. He lusts after you. I think he always has.’

  ‘No. No. You’re wrong.’ Wasn’t she?

  ‘I’ve seen how he looks at you. That time when I dropped your Christmas presents off at your place and he was there. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. And remember Leeward’s surprise 30th birthday party, he followed you around like a pet dog. And, of course, now…’

  I let what she’d said sink in. I thought about it.

  ‘Oh my God. No. Maybe.’ Yes, I think Cat has a point.

  ‘He’s just waiting for a respectable amount of time to pass before he moves in on you.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ∞∞∞

  I went back to work after six weeks. My colleagues were tactful and didn’t mention what had happened, although they all knew, several of them had been there and witnessed the spectacle and those who hadn’t had seen my singing performance on Facebook. Most of the residents either didn’t remember or had never seen Facebook, which is just as well.

  Only one, Mr Porter, Archie, brought it up.

  ‘Well, girl. What’s all this I’ve been hearing. That man of yours let you down?’ He shook his head. ‘He must be mad, missing out on a nice girl like you.’ His words were followed by one hell of a coughing fit. It was late October by then and the winter coughs and colds that always claimed a few residents were starting their rounds.

  ‘Are you being treated?’ I asked rushing to his aid. He was old, even older than Grimmy but he didn’t have her physical stamina, though, to use his words, he still had all his marbles.

  ‘Yeah, bit of cough mixture. That other nurse sorted it, girl. So, what about this man of yours?’

  I sat down and told him, not the full story, not the porny phone messages or my sweary song, but the gist.

  ‘Bloody fool,’ he said afterwards. ‘Bloody idiot. You deserve better.’

  Afterwards I went off to check his notes, see what he’d been prescribed, then I called the GP to get him some antibiotics because I didn’t think a bit of cough mixture was going to help that cough. I was probably overstepping the mark but patient care came first.

  Archie is probably my favourite patient, he’s been there as long as I have, probably longer. He’s a cockney, born and bred and still sounds like one even though he moved out of London more than fifty years ago. He still uses the odd bit of rhyming slang, apples and pears, titfer, boat race, little things like that, but only when he’s having a bit of fun with us. You can have a laugh with Archie.

  He has a friend, Miss Lawrence, Florence. Florence Lawrence. She prefers Flo – understandable really. She’s another cockney, younger than Archie, the two became friends when she moved into the home five years ago. They spend time together reminiscing about London, a London that disappeared long ago but is still fresh in their minds.

  So here we are: December. The run up to Christmas. I’m still working part-time, I’ve been promised the next full-time vacancy whenever it comes up, but who knows when that will be. I kick myself daily for giving up my great job so willingly. I cover every sickness and holiday and so am earning a bit extra but it’s not the same as a proper full-time position, I can’t rely on it. I can’t get a mortgage with it.

  It’s fun at the nursing home at this time of year. We play all the old Christmas songs; the residents love it as much I do. In the afternoons we put a Christmas movie on for those who like to watch them. We’ve had White Christmas with Bing Crosby on four times already; it’s our most requested, though I prefer It’s a Wonderful Life.

  I’m still living with Mum and Dad. It’s not so bad. No, it’s good, I really cannot complain and they refuse to take any money from me. I have the whole top floor to myself and that includes a shower room. It’s like a mini flat really, and I get all my meals cooked, even though I offer to help frequently, but Mum is quite territorial about her kitchen, something I hadn’t realised before.

  I save every penny I can. I have managed to buy a little car, a twelve-year-old Volkswagen Beetle which I know Leeward would not approve of. It’s my two-fingered salute to him, not, I suspect, that he’s aware of it. He is being very non-communicative but I have managed to find out from Ken – he insists I call him Ken otherwise he won’t answer me – that Leeward is moving after Christmas. It was like getting blood out of a stone but he let it slip when I went for a drink with him. Okay, I know I probably shouldn’t, but he kept asking and after all, he was my nearly brother-in-law. We’ve been out a few times now. You should see the way heads turn when I walk into the pub with him, all the women gaze at him and then stare at me with envy. This never happened with Leeward. Anyway, we’ve agreed we’re just friends.

  Now I have my car my savings are going towards a house deposit. Comfortable as it is, I cannot live at Mum and Dad’s for ever; I don’t want to be one of those even though Cat says there’s nothing wrong with it.

  ‘That’s because you want me to be the spinster sister who looks after her parents in their old age,’ I say when we discuss it.

  ‘Yep, that’s true.’

  I’m nearly thirty-six and I’ve promised myself I must be out of here by my birthday. That’s the end of April so I don’t have much time.

  ‘Any luck at work?’ Cat asks.

  ‘No permanent full-time, if that’s what you mean. But I am earning just as much with all the extra shifts.’

  ‘Won’t count towards a mortgage.’ She leaves the words hanging in the air.

  ‘I know.’ I don’t need her to rub it in.

  ‘Maybe you should look elsewhere after Christmas.’

  ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ I don’t want to. I love where I work. I don’t want any more change in my life unless I initiate it.

  ‘Ken says Leeward’s moving.’

  Cat’s eyes light up. ‘Oh, is he indeed? Now is the time to get some money back from him then. He can obviously afford it.’

  ‘Ken says he’s doing a part-exchange.’

  ‘What? Is that so he can cheat you out of what’s rightfully yours?’

  ‘I don’t know that I’m entitled to any.’

  ‘Maybe not legally, but morally…’

  ‘I know.’ Do I? He won’t speak to me. He won’t answer my messages which so far have been civil and polite, he won’t take my phone calls. ‘Dad is talking to a solicitor friend of his.’

  ‘Good. Let’s hope he comes out on your side. Where’s Gollum moving to?’

  ‘Some new-build. Ken was vague.’

  ‘Was he?’ She manages to put so much into those two words that I flinch. She’s implying that Ken is complicit, she’s implying that Leeward is buying a giant new house that I have helped fund; she’s merely echoing all the thoughts that have gone around and around in my head since I found out about his move.

  I arrange to see Dad’s solicitor friend on my next day off. His offices are tucked away down a side street in town.

  ‘Hello, Lauren,’ he says after the receptionist has ushered me into a meeting room. ‘I’m Linus.’ He extends a hand and we shake. We shuffle around the table in the middle, it’s modern and minimalist, not how I imagined a solicitor’s office to be, not that I’ve ever had need for a solicitor before.

  ‘Thanks for seeing me,’ I mutter,
thinking this is pointless.

  ‘Your dad has given me some info, but why don’t you tell me all about it.’

  ‘I don’t know where to start really…’ Yet somehow I vomit out verbal diarrhoea for over twenty-minutes. I give him all the gory details; I don’t seem to be able to stop myself. It’s odd, because I’ve never told the story, the whole story to anyone before, not even my family, although, of course, they’ve lived through it. I feel strangely better when I’ve finished.

  ‘Shame you didn’t have a joint bank account,’ Linus says.

  ‘Well, only the savings one.’

  ‘Needed to be current. Show evidence of monies you paid in and mortgage payments coming out.’

  ‘It’s useless, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not entirely. You could take him to court, you could sue him. You’d have to provide evidence of what you paid for and how it impacted on household finances. But, it could go either way. You say you don’t know how much the mortgage payments were?’

  I shake my head. Why didn’t I? Because it didn’t matter; we were going to be together forever. I trusted him.

  ‘They could be very high, we don’t know, of course we’d find out. He could claim that you were nothing more than a lodger…’

  ‘We were getting married,’ I cut in.

  ‘Prior to your wedding, I was going to add.’ Linus smiles at me. ‘We could go to court and you could lose and it would have cost you more money.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I thought. I don’t have the money to waste on fighting him.’ I didn’t want to waste my life fighting him either.

  ‘We could try a letter. Bluff him. It may not work. Legally this is tricky ground, but morally he owes you.’

  ∞∞∞

  I’m stunned when I see a message from Leeward pop up on my phone. He must have received the letter over a week ago and I’d resigned myself to getting nothing when he didn’t respond immediately.

  10k is all I can give you.

  I don’t reply because I’m at work but when I get home I show his message to Mum and Dad.

  ‘It’s his opening gambit. Or, at least, that’s how I see it,’ Dad says.

  ‘What should I say? Should I accept? It’s better than nothing. It’s more than I ever thought I’d get. I wasn’t expecting anything. I thought he’d ignore it.’