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

by CJ Morrow

  ‘Ring Linus,’ Dad says.

  When I do, he gives me advice which makes me both nervous and excited.

  ∞∞∞

  I accept Leeward’s offer of ten thousand pounds and tell him it is a start but I am thinking more like thirty thousand. I’m careful with my wording, as instructed by Linus, making it clear that I am definitely taking the ten thousand no matter what.

  He doesn’t reply for over an hour. I can imagine his face turning red with anger, the way it did if someone cut him up on the road. In the end after some toing and froing we settle on twenty, which I think is fair. He says I have to wait until he sells his house to pay me. He doesn’t know that I know he’s part-exchanging it. I send a two-word reply.

  Thank you.

  I refuse to feel guilty. This was all his doing, his fault. Booking the wedding of the century was his fault, ruining it was his fault. Persuading me to give up my job was his fault – well no, it was my fault for being weak – but it was his idea. And he had effectively thrown me out of his house and made me homeless, where would I have gone if I didn’t have such generous parents who could take me in? He didn’t care.

  If I add up all the things I’ve paid for over the years, the things that have enabled him to pay his mortgage, it would be far more than he’s giving me, not to mention losing my car and my half of our savings on the wedding he wanted.

  I won’t feel guilty.

  Just sad.

  I remember when it was good between us. The fun times. When I look back over old photos, the ones floating in the cloud downloaded from all my old phones, I see two, happy smiling people with their whole future in front of them.

  In my more honest moments I look back and can see when the cracks started to appear. And it was long before our wedding. He never used to work late or stay away on business, he did everything he could to get back to me, then slowly he began staying away, working late. It’s easy to spot with hindsight but at the time I was too busy living my daily life to notice.

  Maybe he was too.

  We used to be good together.

  ∞∞∞

  ‘You should go round there before he moves,’ Cat says, mischief in her eyes.

  ‘I don’t want to. I don’t want to see him. Anyway, I don’t want to do anything to make him backtrack on the money he’s agreed to give me.

  ‘I didn’t mean when he was there.’ Cat grins.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve still got that key, haven’t you?’

  ‘Oh yeah, well Mum has.’

  ‘Well then, we could sneak round one day when he’s at work. Park around the corner, saunter up to the house…’

  ‘Hang on,’ I cut in. ‘We, did you say we?’

  ‘I couldn’t let you go on your own. It might be too traumatic for you.’

  ‘Cat,’ I snap, but I’m half considering it.

  ‘Just saying. You never know, there might be things you want…’

  ∞∞∞

  He gives me my money two days before Christmas but I know he hasn’t moved because Ken has told me. I can’t quite believe it when he sends me a message to say the money’s left his bank account and I burst into tears when I check to find it in mine.

  ‘This is going to be the best Christmas ever,’ I hear myself saying in true soap-opera-disaster-soon-to-follow fashion. I immediately move the money into my savings account, just in case there’s some way he can recall it, even though I know there isn’t. I’ve never had so much money all at once before.

  ‘Leeward’s gone on holiday again,’ I tell Cat on Christmas Eve when we’re having a nice meal and a few drinks because tomorrow I am working from noon.

  ‘Oh lucky him, two holidays in three months. When was the last time you went on holiday?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I sigh. ‘I suppose I could go anytime I like now he’s paid me off.’ Though I’m hoping the money will be a house deposit once I get a full-time job.

  ‘Where’s he gone?’

  ‘Seychelles.’

  ‘On his own?’

  ‘I didn’t ask, anyway I don’t think Ken would tell me.’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Back New Year’s Day.’

  Cat turns to me and her eyes sparkle, or maybe that’s just how it looks to me because I’ve had far too many glasses of wine.

  ‘What are you doing the day after Boxing Day?’

  ‘Nothing. Watching crap TV with Grimmy,’ I add, laughing.

  ‘Good. Keep the afternoon free. We’re going on a visit.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nudges me and I almost spill my wine.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ∞∞∞

  Christmas Day in the nursing home is nice. Especially for me, no one is seriously ill and I’m doubling as a care assistant this afternoon. Many of the residents have been taken home by their families for the day, though not so many on this floor, the dementia floor. I’m here until six, then downstairs after that. Christmas lunch has been served in the day room and everyone is settling down to either watch TV or sleep, just like everyone else in the UK on Christmas Day.

  Several of the residents cuddle their toys, mostly teddies. So many here have retreated into childhood, some even think that visiting husbands and wives are their parents. It’s so sad and could really get you down but all the staff try not to dwell on it because really, it helps no one.

  ‘Where am I? I need to get out of here. I haven’t committed any crimes. I’m innocent.’ Ben is only forty-five, he has an early onset form of the disease and thinks he’s in prison. It must seem like that.

  ‘Yes you did, you’re a murderer.’ Enid seems to take such pleasure in tormenting people. I wonder what she was like before she became ill.

  ‘No, I didn’t. No, I didn’t.’

  Now Carla is joining in. Carla used to be a teacher and talks in the rhythm of chanting times tables.

  ‘You are a naughty boy.

  Go sit in the corner.

  Hands on your head.

  We’re giving out the milks.’

  ‘I think I’m going to have to create a distraction,’ Stella, the care assistant, tells me. ‘Shall we have some music?’ she shouts so everyone can hear.

  Ben looks confused, Carla stops chanting, others nod their agreement, Enid sneers.

  ‘Not that Bing Bossy crap,’ she yells. Could she really have been this nasty before?

  ‘Big band and dancing. I love a summer dance.’ I don’t know the name of the man who says this, I don’t think he’s been here long.

  Stella puts some Frank Sinatra on before she turns off the TV. Frank’s voice seems to sooth everyone, including me.

  Then Ben gets up. He moves to a space in the day room, tottering a little on the vinyl tiled floor, Stella and I both jump to catch him before he falls, but he rights himself and starts to dance. He’s enjoying it, a brief respite from his prison, even though the dancing is more line dancing than big band.

  ‘I’m thinking of having lamb chops for tea,’ Jean says, plonking herself down beside me. Jean is sweet-natured and has been here for years. ‘What do you think?’ She holds up two paws ripped from someone’s – maybe her own, but probably not – teddy.

  We’re told to correct the residents when they misunderstand something, to try to make them understand, but as I look into Jean’s eyes, bright with excitement at the prospect of lamb for tea, I nod and smile. ‘Good idea.’

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ she says, tucking the paws into her pocket before joining Ben on the dance floor.

  After tea – not a lamb chop in sight – I make my way downstairs. Archie greets me in the corridor.

  ‘My favourite nurse, I didn’t know you were on, girl. How’s that grandmother of yours, still going strong?’

  ‘Yes, she is, thank you.’ I often tell him about Grimmy and her antics, edited highlights anyway and he always asks after her. I have told Grimmy about Arc
hie too because she grew up during the Blitz in London, so I know they’d have something in common, but she says she’s not really interested in the past. I smile at Archie. ‘What are you up to?’ I don’t want to ask if he’s been out with his family in case he hasn’t.

  ‘Just waiting for the family.’ He coughs, his body shaking with the effort. ‘They won’t be long. Six, they said.’ I hate that we can’t clear his cough.

  They’ll be late, I think, because that’s how it is, but to Archie and the other residents ten minutes late means they’ve all been killed in an horrific crash.

  The door buzzes and a group of people, including children, tumble in. There are presents and balloons, they’ve really made an effort. I recognise his daughters, and assume the others are their adult children, the small children must be Archie’s great-grandchildren.

  ‘Here they are.’ Archie marches forward to greet them and I smile a welcome over his head, then I melt away and head for the office.

  I check the paperwork, get ready to do my rounds with the evening drugs trolley and wonder what my family are up to. Then I wonder what Leeward is up to on his exotic holiday.

  Has he taken her? Stupid question.

  ∞∞∞

  On the day after Boxing Day I climb into Cat’s car and feel like a naughty kid. We’re dressed in dark fleeces and dark leggings, her idea.

  ‘Have you got the key?’ she asks, starting the engine.

  I wave it around. ‘Hope he hasn’t changed the locks.’

  ‘Oh, don’t say that. It’ll spoil our fun. Do you think he has?’

  I shrug. In a way, I hope he has, I feel guilty and I haven’t even done anything yet.

  We pull up around the corner and walk the short distance to Leeward’s house, it’s nearly 4pm and already twilight, soon it will be properly dark. It was Cat’s idea to wait until now so the neighbours would be less likely to see us.

  ‘His car’s here,’ Cat says. ‘That’s not a good sign.’

  ‘Ken took him to the airport.’

  ‘Did he say anything about her?’

  ‘He never says anything about her, he’s discretion itself where she is concerned.’

  As we approach the front door his security light blinds us.

  ‘That’s new.’

  Cat knocks on the door and rings the bell several times.

  ‘What are you doing? I’ve got the key.’

  ‘Just in case. You never know, he might have someone house-sitting or something.’

  ‘Yeah, and what are we going to say if he has?’ I can’t think of anything plausible.

  ‘Open the door,’ Cat says. ‘There’s no one here.’

  I put the key in the lock and turn it twice. Nothing happens.

  ‘He’s changed the lock.’ I feel relieved. We can go now. I pull the key out.

  Cat snatches it from me, rubs it on her fleece and pushes it into the lock. She turns it twice and leans into the door with her shoulder. It springs open.

  ‘Just the damp,’ she says, grinning.

  And we’re in. It’s darker inside the house than outside. We stumble into the lounge.

  ‘He’s drawn all the curtains,’ I say, flicking on the light switch.

  ‘No, people will see us. Use your phone light.’ Cat reaches over and switches off the light.

  ‘No need. They’re blackout curtains. Leeward insisted on them.’ I flick the light switch back on.

  ‘Good old Gollum.’ Cat grins.

  ‘Don’t call him that.’

  ‘Shush. Come on, let’s explore.’

  Nothing has changed really, same furniture, same carpet, same everything. What did I expect in less than four months? In the kitchen I go through the drawers.

  ‘Looking for something?’

  ‘Yes, I bought a really good can opener, I don’t see why he should have it. Cost a fortune.’ I’m feeling mean, meaner than I did before we got here. I shouldn’t feel so mean; he’s just given me twenty grand. ‘Can’t find it,’ I mutter. ‘Should have taken it the first time.’

  ‘You weren’t really in the right frame of mind.’ Cat yanks open the dishwasher door. ‘This it?’ She holds up my expensive can opener.

  ‘Yes. Is it clean?’

  ‘Yes. We’ll have that.’ She whips a plastic carrier out of her fleece pocket, shakes it open and drops the can opener into it.

  We grin at each other.

  ‘That’ll mess with his head. Anything else?’

  I look around the kitchen, opening more drawers and doors. I shake my head.

  ‘We could take one of his remotes,’ Cat says as we go back through the lounge and she picks up the one for the Sky box. ‘We could stand outside and change channels.’

  For a split second I’m tempted, then I shake my head and Cat drops the remote control.

  ‘Shame,’ she says. ‘It would have been fun.’

  I glance around the room, there’s no obvious sign of her. I wonder if she has moved in or if they are waiting until they move into their brand-new home to live together.

  There’s no sign of me either, no sign that I lived here for ten years.

  I start up the stairs, my heart beats in my chest, I feel anxious but determined.

  In the third bedroom, a box room really, the one he uses as his study, everything is neat and tidy.

  ‘Hey, we could change his password.’ Cat points to his laptop. ‘Do you know his password?’

  ‘He never bothered with one.’

  ‘We could give him one.’

  I shake my head. I suddenly realise I’m not here for revenge. Why am I here? Would I have come if Cat hadn’t urged me on? I can’t blame Cat; I kept the spare key.

  The spare room is sparse, the one we kept for guests, bed always ready. Not that we had many, Ken once or twice after he’d had rows with girlfriends, I can’t even remember which ones. I wonder how Suzi is? Does he still see Suzi? Of course not.

  ‘Did I tell you that Ken has asked me to his work New Year’s Eve party?’ I know I haven’t.

  ‘No. The cheek of him. You should go. Imagine how much that’ll wind up Gollum.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I laugh. I’ve already agreed to go but not because I want to get at Leeward. Why then? Maybe I just like the attention.

  I’m stalling outside the bedroom, our old bedroom, my old bedroom. What if it’s full of dresses and shoes, hairbrushes and makeup.

  ‘Come on.’ Cat pushes past me, opens the door, flicks the light on. ‘Phew, smells a bit musty in here, I don’t think he’s moved his lady friend in yet.’

  I step over the threshold, remember this room, remember this life.

  ‘Hey, didn’t I buy you that vase?’ She points to the chest of drawers and the swirly blue vase. She strides over and picks it up, sniffs it. ‘It’s had flowers in it. I suppose he had to do something to cover the pong when he was being the love hobbit.’

  I laugh. How can I not? But I’m irritated by her flippancy.

  She pulls a face. ‘Want it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I say, almost absentmindedly as she stuffs it into her carrier bag.

  ‘That’ll mess with his head.’ Cat sniggers to herself. I think she’s enjoying this too much.

  I’m studying the room, looking for signs. I approach the wardrobes and Cat stands back. We exchange a glance.

  I close my eyes and pull open the door to the wardrobe that used to be mine.

  ‘Nothing girly,’ Cat announces.

  I allow myself to look. ‘He’s got more clothes. New ones.’

  ‘See, he isn’t short of money, is he? How many new clothes have you bought?’

  ‘None. I’m saving up.’

  Cat raises her eyebrows at me, doesn’t say ‘see’ again, doesn’t have to.

  ‘And you were feeling guilty about the twenty thousand.’

  ‘No, I wasn’t.’ Maybe I was, just a little.

  ‘Yes, you were.’

  I look though his clothes, pull out a brown leather short coa
t. ‘This can’t have been cheap.’

  ‘Try it on.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Go on.’

  I pull the coat on over my fleece, cross it over and tie the belt.

  ‘You could wear that. It’s a bit big, but looks cool wrapped over like that.’ She giggles. ‘In the bag?’ She holds the carrier open.

  ‘Stop it.’ I take the coat off and hang it back up. ‘Come on.’ I turn to leave then suddenly think, supposing he’s swapped wardrobes, supposing her stuff is in the other one. I yank open the door, my hand shaking. Phew, just more of his clothes, old familiar ones.

  ‘Want to go?’ Cat says, putting a hand on my arm.

  ‘Yep.’

  We stand in the hallway looking around, checking no lights are left on.

  ‘I have to,’ Cat says, dashing back into the lounge, grabbing the Sky remote.

  ‘No.’

  She stops, holds the remote up, studies it. ‘You’re right, what am I thinking? I’m a responsible mother of four, I’d go mad if one of my kids did that.’ But she doesn’t put it down. ‘I’m just going to hide it instead.’ She whams the remote so hard under the sofa that we hear it hit the wall behind.

  ‘Did you always dislike Leeward so much?’ I ask once we’re safely back in the car.

  ‘To be honest I’ve never been that mad on him but he made you happy.’ She looks at me. ‘Then he made you very unhappy, so now I hate him.’

  ‘I don’t.’ Liar, liar.

  ‘No, well you should.’

  ‘I think I’m moving on like you told me to. You should too, Cat.’ I really don’t know who I’m kidding.

  ‘Okay.’ She starts the car. ‘How long do you think he’ll hunt for that remote?’ She grins and pulls away before adding, ‘And that tin opener. And that vase.’

  Eight

  April

  It’s warm and sunny in Mum and Dad’s kitchen, the sun’s shining through the skylights as we hover around the island, Mum and me.

  I’m holding my phone and willing it to ring, or ping a message, anything to show action, anything.

  ‘It’s still early,’ Mum says, her voice reassuring.