‘That sounds rough; we’d better have a look at that chest.’ Theo watched as Charles took a seat in the only free chair in his living room, the sofa obscured by books and canvases and scattered painting-related paraphernalia. The television was on; a documentary about monkeys had been muted and Theo was momentarily distracted by primates scurrying across the screen. When he turned to face Charles, the man already had his shirt rolled up, exposing his skinny frame.
‘Can’t seem to shift this cough.’
Theo listened through his stethoscope, heard the rattle immediately. ‘Think you’ll need a course of antibiotics to shift it, Charles. I have a few to start you off, but Elaine will have a prescription filled for you.’
Charles wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t want no women in here.’
‘Elaine is a friend and colleague, Charles. I trust her. She’s the only one who can get here every day and you have to let her in to dress that leg. No more of this ignoring her. She’s here to help take care of you.’
‘How’s your boy?’ Charles asked as he rolled his shirt down his shrinking middle.
‘A pain in the ass at the moment. Are you eating, Charles?’
‘No appetite.’
‘You have to eat. I’ll talk to Elaine about getting you some meals delivered. Simple, nutritious food. You don’t have to eat a lot, but you do have to eat.’ He sat on the edge of his patient’s chair. ‘Cilla would want you to look after yourself, Charles. She’d be mad as hell with you if she could see you now.’
Rheumy, pale blue eyes looked up at him and filled with tears. ‘I know,’ he whispered. ‘But I miss her.’
‘I know you do. One day at a time, eh? And some day, you’ll wake up and it won’t hurt quite so much.’ Theo listened to his own words, hoped they were true. ‘Now, I’m going to call Elaine and tell her you’ll let her in later, okay?’
Charles nodded. ‘Why is your boy being a pain in the ass?’
Theo shrugged and laughed. ‘Because he can. Because he’s almost twelve and hormones are beginning to rage and because I’m the only one around to blame.’ And because his mother left us both to be with another man.
A spindly, liver-spotted hand reached out to touch Theo and patted him. ‘Just love him. Cilla and I never had children. In those days if you weren’t blessed …’ He shrugged his bony shoulders. ‘You just weren’t blessed.’
Theo stood, reached inside his bag and handed him a tiny plastic bag with three capsules in it. ‘There’s enough for today here, Charles. Take one now – do you want me to get you some water?’
The old man shook his head. ‘No, you get on. Thank you for coming, I know you’re busy.’
‘Don’t get up, Charles, I’ll see myself out. I’m calling Elaine from the car, right?’
Charles nodded and waved him away.
From his car, he called Elaine. He called Bea to tell him he was on the way and he called Harriet. He warned her, ahead of the weekend with Finn, that their son was a smoking pain in the ass, and told her that he felt it was probably her fault. By the time he’d reached his herringbone driveway, the one that Harriet had wanted, she was shouting down the phone at him. After his parting words to his wife, ‘Yeah well, fuck you too and the boat you sailed in on’, he sat in the car and drummed his forehead against the top of the steering wheel. Bea opened the front door and it was when he saw the list in her hand that he remembered he hadn’t stopped at the cashpoint.
He pressed a button to lower the window. ‘Bea, I’m sorry, I completely forgot to get money. I’ll be back in five minutes.’ Without waiting for a reply, he backed out of the drive. A glance at the dashboard told him he was already five minutes late for afternoon surgery, which would mean almost thirty minutes late by the time he could start. An afternoon of poorly and now irate patients. He hadn’t eaten since Sarah had insisted he have half of her croissant at nine a.m. He had just sworn at his wife for the first time in their thirteen-year history. And all of that before one o’clock …
From his position at the end of the bar, he stared at a small crowd of people sitting at the opposite end of the pub. They were, Theo realized, waiting for karaoke night to begin. He suddenly wanted to be home, away from people, away from poor renditions of pop songs he could rarely recall. Out of the crowd he recognized only a few, including Finn’s tutor, the woman from the climbing club – the woman he’d had a pretty graphic dream about. He felt his cheeks flush as Eddie took the seat beside him. Silently, Theo picked up the pint of orange juice and lemonade and swallowed three large gulps.
‘Now, listen,’ Eddie said, after initial hellos and ordering a pint of lager. ‘I realize it was meant to be just you and me tonight, but you know how Jules loves the karaoke. Which sort of means she’s here.’ He frowned over the rim of his glass.
Theo laughed. ‘I forgot it was on and, to be absolutely honest, I’m really not in the mood, so why don’t you and Jules enjoy it.’
‘I’m sorry, she got a last-minute sitter for the kids and she’s back there gargling her throat … I couldn’t say no.’
Theo glanced across the room to see Jules high-five the tutor as she passed on her way towards them.
‘Theo!’ Jules wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘How are you? Christ, it’s so good to be out,’ she said, without waiting for an answer. She rolled up her sleeves. ‘Right, Ed, order me a soda and lime. I’ll drive. He has persuaded you to stay, yes?’ She looked straight at Theo.
‘No, really. I’m not in the mood.’
‘See that girl over there?’ She pointed a finger back to the crowd and Theo knew without looking that she was pointing to the nameless dream girl. Think French. Jacqueline … That was her name.
‘Uh-huh,’ he replied.
‘She’s been asking about you. Says she knows you through Finn?’
‘Mmm.’ He swallowed more orange juice and wished it was lager.
‘Look, will you?’
‘I know who you mean. She tutors Finn at The Wall. Jacqueline.’
‘Yes. She’s gorgeous and lovely. She’s single and she’s asking about you.’
Eddie was shaking his head.
‘Shut up, Ed,’ his wife said.
‘Didn’t say a word.’
‘Theo.’ Jules leaned into him. ‘What would be the harm in having some fun and throwing in a little female company from someone who’s really nice and is interested?’
‘Interested in what?’ wondered Theo. If it was sex, it was out of the question. He could neither take a woman home nor be out all night. He had Finn to think of. If it was his looks, she’d discover pretty quickly that there was very little beneath the allegedly handsome outer shell. He was a soon-to-be legally-separated local GP who liked to stand on his head once a day and be a father to Finn. That was about it.
Theo drained his glass. ‘Another time, Jules.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Now go break a leg.’
She glared at Eddie. ‘You could have made him stay,’ she said, wagging a finger at him before she walked away, tutting.
‘You couldn’t.’ Theo put his jacket on.
‘Ignore her. Just stay anyway?’
‘No, go on, be with Jules. She really wants you up there cheering her on during “Dancing Queen”.’
‘She is right, you know. You should stay.’
Theo pulled the zip up on his jacket. ‘I don’t doubt it.’
Eddie put a hand on his arm. ‘You’ve not been right. Not been happy for a few months. I know it’s been hard with Harriet, but …’ Eddie ran a hand through his head of lush, dark curls. ‘Is there something else going on. Is it Jess? The Anna thing?’
Theo almost laughed. The Anna thing. Was that how people viewed it? A young woman of twenty-four is lost in an avalanche; her family are bereft – left in limbo – caught between the despair of the fact that she is most likely lost to them and the need to hope that she may not be. The Anna thing. He shook his head and pushed his hands down into his gloves.
‘H
ow is Jess?’ Eddie asked.
‘She’s fine.’ Probably at home right now, about to take a Valium so that she can sleep.
‘Tell her I said hi when you see her. And Theo?’
Theo looked at him.
‘You should think about what Jules said. You want me to lay the groundwork for you?’ Eddie grinned in Jacqueline’s direction.
‘We’re not in school.’
‘Oh yes, we are!’ Eddie said. ‘We never leave the playground. Take it from me, a physics teacher to sixth-formers. They’re all still kids but the worst kids, the very worst ones, are in the staff room. I’ll tell her how great you are, get her number for you. You’ll thank me later.’
Theo gave him a loose hug. ‘We’ll catch up soon. Come for dinner, you and Jules.’ As he said the words, he wondered how that might look. Him and Eddie and Jules in the dining room without Harriet. No, the kitchen table. That would do – just the three of them, casual, something simple – something from M&S. ‘See you.’ He mock-saluted his friend and left the pub through the back entrance, not wanting to catch Jacqueline’s eye as he left.
In the car park, he phoned Jess. ‘Put the kettle on,’ he said.
‘I’m watching Mad Men. Go away.’
‘Put the kettle on. My night with Eddie has been cut short with Jules arriving for karaoke.’
‘I bloody hate karaoke.’
‘Are you making me a cup of tea or not?’
‘Don’t put the car on the drive, park on the road. I’ve only just got Rose to sleep.’
‘Rose? I thought—’
‘Long story. Sean brought her home early and she’s been pretty unsettled since she got back.’
‘Oh.’ Theo wasn’t sure why but he was disappointed.
‘Right. Kettle’s on,’ she said. ‘Be quick and be quiet.’
‘Two minutes,’ he said and hung up.
When the door opened, he kissed her cheek and followed her silently through the hall.
In the rear room, a kitchen-den, Jess boiled the kettle in the kitchen end and he took his jacket off. He noted the tall glass of clear liquid on the coffee table, lifted it and sniffed. Vodka. Next to her glass was a blister pack of tablets. He took a seat opposite what she called the tatty sofa. A pile of photos lay scattered on the coffee table and Don Draper’s face was frozen on the television screen.
She handed him a steaming mug and sat down.
‘I read in the paper they found the boy’s body,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘You all right? I haven’t heard from you. Not since you came around mine telling me how worried you were about me.’
She smiled, a tiny curve at the edge of her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m a bad friend. Don’t believe a word I say.’
‘Are you all right?’
She raised her shoulders up and down, wordlessly.
‘So,’ Theo said. ‘I found out that Finn’s been smoking.’
The single frown line she had between her eyebrows deepened.
‘He’s pissed off, feeling we’ve let him down.’
‘Have you talked to him?’ She folded her legs underneath her.
Theo sighed. ‘I tried but I think I talked at him. And I told Harriet it’s all her fault.’
‘It probably is,’ Jess whispered, before drinking from her glass.
He said nothing for a moment then nodded towards the tablets. ‘Vodka and Valium?’
‘If you lecture me, I’ll put Mad Men back on.’
‘Jess, have one or the other, not both, and certainly not together.’ His eyes questioned hers.
‘Theo. Not tonight. Save it, please.’
‘I’ll save it. But you’ll be sod-all use to Rose if you continue like that. Speaking of Rose, why is she back?’
Jess had started to glare at him, then softened at the mention of her granddaughter. ‘She was upset, didn’t settle at all. Sean thought it best to bring her home.’
He nodded.
‘Then he thought it best to remind me on my front doorstep that Anna has been gone for three months; tell me that he doesn’t now consider this Rose’s home and that he’s looking to move her up to Blackpool with him when he moves there in June.’
Theo didn’t speak. His mouth opened but no words came out. With Anna missing, Rose was the one reason Jess got up in the morning. He leaned forward, reached for her hand. It felt limp and small in his. ‘He won’t do it. That’s his parents talking.’
Theo had no idea if it was or not. He just remembered Jess saying something about Sean’s parents living in Blackpool.
‘If he takes her …’ She swallowed the rest of the vodka in one go.
‘He won’t.’ Theo let go of her hand and sat back again, the churning in his stomach almost audible. This was not good news. Not good news at all.
At eleven p.m. he unlocked the main door with his keys and punched in the alarm code on the keypad to his left. The surgery was eerily still and quiet, lit only by the security light in the car park. The only sounds were the humming of computer terminals in the reception area and the low buzz of the aging fridge in the staff room as he passed. Theo entered his consulting room, switched his desk light on and sat down. He tossed his phone and keys on the desk and sat back, his chair swivelling him to the right. Without thinking too much, he picked his phone up and dialled speed-dial #2.
‘Theo?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about earlier.’
‘It’s late.’
‘I know, but we never did go to sleep on a row and I didn’t want to start now.’
Harriet paused and Theo listened, matching the pulse of her breathing with his own. ‘I’m sorry too. Part of me knows you’re right. He’s playing up because I left. He’s looking for attention and—’
‘He just wants his parents back together.’
‘Theo.’ There was another, longer pause. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘I wasn’t asking for it to, Harriet. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m just pointing out the obvious. He wants his life back the way it was.’
She sighed. ‘Is he asleep?’ she asked.
Theo looked around the shadows of his workspace. ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied honestly.
‘Give him a kiss for me, will you?’
‘I will.’
‘I’ll see you Friday and I’ll talk to him this weekend. He might open up a bit. He probably needs to hear the truth from me.’
‘That’s a novel idea. I wouldn’t mind some of that myself.’ He winced, hearing the sarcasm dripping from his mouth.
‘I’ve always been honest with you.’
‘Have you?’ He felt her stiffen down the phone line.
‘Now, eleven at night – you call to apologize and you start another row?’
‘Harriet. Were you seeing Roland for longer than you said you were?’
‘No, I bloody wasn’t. And I don’t get where you get the right to start accusing me of lying.’
Theo closed his eyes.
‘Goodnight, Theo. I’ll see you and Finn on Friday.’ She hung up the phone.
He leaned forward, sunk his head into his hands and felt the tears come. They were body-wracking tears, not gentle, silent ones and, when they were done, he wondered. He wondered if he’d known they were coming; if he’d felt the inevitability of them back at Jess’s and come here to avoid the scene at home. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, reached into his desk drawer for the tissues he kept there for patients and instantly remembered what had really brought him there. He removed the envelope and pushed it deep into his coat pocket. Whatever Anna had to say, it was probably time to read it.
13. Jess
‘I don’t see her places. I expected to – you know, when you hear people talking about catching sight of someone, going up to them thinking they’re … then you see that they’re really no one you know and they’re looking at you funny.’
Jane nods.
‘Anyway, I thou
ght that would happen but it doesn’t. I do have conversations with her, imagine she’s here chatting to me. Feels safer than accosting strangers …’
Jane Levy gets up from behind her desk and squeezes my shoulder. ‘Let me check your blood pressure,’ she says, reaching for the armband. Outside her office door, I can hear some children running amok.
I feel the strap tighten around my right arm and glance at my watch on my left. ‘I’ve left Rose in the waiting room,’ I tell her. ‘I really hope that’s not her!’
I tell her this as code for ‘please hurry up’, but she takes her time anyway – checks my pulse rate, my blood pressure, looks in my eyes, takes a blood test ‘just to make sure I’m not anaemic’.
At first she looks sympathetic, checks my notes when I ask for a refill on the Valium prescription. Then, almost immediately, she looks hesitant.
‘I can’t sleep, Jane,’ I say to her. ‘And when I do, I dream of Anna being swallowed by a massive white wave of snow. At the same time I swallow the sea. It’s the only time I cry – when I sleep. And I need to cry.’ She types something short, presses a button and I hear the printer deliver what I need.
I have never asked anything of Doug. I really haven’t had much to do with him at all since he left me, unless I needed to talk about Anna. I can, in the last twelve years, count the conversations we’ve had on a few hands.
So, I don’t want to call him now. I’m loath to call him now. In my head I play out the various possibilities. Whether I call his mobile or his home phone, there’s every likelihood that Carol will answer. She’ll speak in that vapid voice of hers and it’ll annoy me and I’ll probably end by hanging up. At least during working hours I have more chance of getting him alone.
As I tap the back of my mobile with my fingernails, I’m watching Rose out of the corner of my eye. I’ve chosen to sit alone at the edge of the café area, not up for company today, and the other women seem to automatically respect that. The mums here are all lovely; they’re people I know mostly from school and they, like me, are watching as their kids play in this vast warehouse world of swing ropes and ball parks. It is Jack Villiers’ sixth birthday – thirty-two kids are all pumped up on saccharine goods, fizzy drinks and adrenalin. The boys and girls chase each other. There’s a lot of squealing.
The Day I lost You Page 8