Another Day in Winter

by Shari Low

  ‘Looking handsome today, Mr Butler,’ Zoe told him as the waiter disappeared with their coats and their drinks order. Water for Tom, champagne for Zoe.

  Normally, he’d compliment her right back, but… he couldn’t go on with this. It wasn’t fair. He’d honestly thought he was ready to have a real relationship when they started seeing each other, but there was no doubt now that he’d been mistaken.

  She was still talking. ‘I’ve said to my sister that you’ll try to make it for Christmas dinner. I know it’ll be difficult with your grandad being ill, and your family here, but I’m hoping you’ll get a chance to slip away. Or maybe you could bring your parents? I’m dying to meet them and I’ll have to do it at some point, so Christmas dinner is as good a time as any. She always does far too much food anyway – I think she’s doing turkey, ham and steak pie this year – so there will be loads to go round. I was going to pick up a gift for your parents this afternoon, so they won’t feel left out. I want to make a good impression on your mother…’

  ‘Stepmother.’ It was out before he realised it.

  If Zoe registered the bitterness of the word, she didn’t show it.

  ‘Of course, stepmother. Anyway, I was thinking we could nip to Vivienne Westwood and pick up something nice, maybe earrings for her. And for your dad…’

  ‘Zoe, we need to talk.’

  There it was. The first line of almost every break-up speech in history.

  Again, she didn’t register. ‘Yes, of course, darling. You don’t think you’ll make it for dinner. It’s fine. I understand. I really do.’

  ‘We need to talk about us.’

  The other infamous line of the traditional break-up speech. He was so weary he’d lost all power to be original.

  This time she paused, eyed him warily, reality registering.

  ‘About?’ Her tone was steady and she had a fixed smile on her face.

  He’d seen her take this stance before, usually just as a potential client was about to raise an objection to something in her sales pitch. She invariably came back with something brilliant that won them over and persuaded them to sign on the dotted line. This wasn’t going to be one of those times.

  ‘I can’t see you any more. I mean, outside work. In a relationship.’ He was stumbling. ‘I’m sorry. I hate to do this, I really do. I’ve had a great time with you but…’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘What?’

  She took a slug of the champagne that had just been placed in front of her.

  ‘Who is she? There’s someone else.’ Zoe was calm. Measured.

  ‘I promise there isn’t,’ Tom vowed.

  She thought about it for a few seconds, then, like the trained negotiator and communicator that she was, she came back from a different, incredibly perceptive angle.

  ‘But there was?’ she countered.

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘An ex,’ Zoe repeated, realising she’d hit bullseye. ‘How long ago?’

  Tom felt his shoulders sag with defeat. ‘Twelve years ago.’

  ‘Twelve years? But you must have been…’

  ‘Eighteen,’ he replied, saving her the mental arithmetic.

  Zoe seemed to find this amusing. ‘And you’re seeing her again?’

  ‘No. I haven’t seen her since.’ He wasn’t going to tell her that wasn’t true, that he’d seen her face, in full colour, on that bastard Davie’s computer yesterday. Or that he’d stopped by a café across from her work this morning to catch a glimpse of her, like some weird stalker.

  ‘For God’s sake, Tom, you were a kid. You can’t still have real feelings for her. You’re seriously dumping me for the memory of some high school girlfriend?’

  ‘I know it sounds crazy but—’

  ‘There is no “but”. It’s completely bat shit crazy.’

  It was probably time to cut his losses and leave, but there was a strange relief in talking about it, even if it was to a woman whom he was ending a relationship with.

  A waiter arrived for their food order, but they asked for a few more minutes, then resumed their conversation as soon as he’d gone.

  ‘So, did she break your heart and leave you scarred for life?’

  ‘No. I broke hers.’

  ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ Zoe said, sighing. ‘This is what I get for choosing a nice guy for once. I bloody knew it was a mistake. So, go on then, tell me. How did you break her heart and why did you not fix it?’

  He paused, unsure as to whether he wanted to reveal all the gory details. ‘It’s all a bit tragic and pathetic.’

  ‘I like tragic and pathetic,’ she said, ruefully. ‘I was supposed to be having lunch with my boyfriend but he just dumped me, four days before Christmas. Right now, I’m cornering the market in tragic and pathetic.’

  Another quality on Zoe’s plus side – she was great with a one liner.

  Tom hesitated, then realised that he really wanted to tell someone. Wanted to hear the words. Needed some kind of outside perspective. Admittedly he wasn’t sure this was the right outside perspective, but he didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t tell Davie for obvious reasons, his grandad could no longer give him words of wisdom, and hell would freeze over before he had such a conversation with his dad and stepmother. Zoe was his only option and besides, she deserved the truth.

  ‘We were inseparable for years, best mates all through school, then we realised we loved each other, but our parents didn’t approve.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a long story. Basically, they thought we were too young to be so serious.’

  It wasn’t the entire truth, in fact there was so much more, but now wasn’t the time to be upending the family’s dirty laundry basket.

  ‘Anyway, my dad had an affair and my mum left when she found out. Then my dad remarried and decided to move to Australia, and I went with them. I didn’t have enough bottle to refuse, so I left Chrissie.’ He was omitting pertinent details, but the bullet points gave the gist of it.

  ‘Chrissie,’ Zoe repeated. ‘That’s her name?’

  Tom nodded, wishing there was some cathartic effect of revealing the truth. There wasn’t. Only guilt and pain. ‘I never saw her again. I came back a year later, searched for her but never found her. I stayed, went to uni, met Davie again there – I’d known him in school too – and you know the rest.’ At least, up to the point that Davie had tracked down Chrissie and decided to keep it to himself.

  ‘And you’re still beating yourself up about this all these years later?’

  He shrugged. ‘I know. Like you said, “bat shit crazy”.’ Even crazier, he could still remember every detail of the night they’d realised they were more than just friends. He’d been sitting on the back step of his house and Chrissie had jumped over from her garden next door.

  ‘That doesn’t look like the face of someone who snogged Carol Carter tonight,’ she’d teased. She was right. He’d had a date with the most lusted after girl in the school, who was already doing part-time modelling at fifteen and tipped to be the next big thing. He should be elated. Over the moon. Instead, he felt… weird.

  ‘What should my face look like?’ he’d asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, but I’d start with happy and pure gobsmacked that she lowered her standards to kiss a mere mortal like yourself.’ She always took the piss out of him, and vice versa. They’d been best mates since first year, and now they were going into fourth year and mutual mocking was still the platform on which their relationship was built.

  She was right though. She plonked down next to him on the step and as he turned to face her he knew the problem was sitting right in front of him. He’d tried to tell her dozens of times but backed out on every occasion. Chrissie was strong, she was determined, she made him laugh more than anyone he’d ever known and she was absolutely clear that she wasn’t interested in boys because she had big plans for her life. She was going to go to university, then start her own business and…

  ‘Sh
e’s not you.’ He’d said it so quietly that he wasn’t sure she’d heard. Actually, now that his stomach was churning, he really hoped she hadn’t heard.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ She was looking at him now, their eyes locked, only inches apart.

  Carried away with the moment, instead of answering he’d leaned over and kissed her and, to his complete shock, she didn’t punch him in the throat. Instead, she’d kissed him back and by the time she stopped he couldn’t even remember who Carol Carter was.

  ‘I thought you weren’t interested in boys,’ he’d said, confused.

  She’d laughed as she shook her head. ‘God, you’re a moron sometimes, Tommy Butler. I’ve never been interested in boys because I was only ever interested in you. You have so much to learn.’ He’d only managed to stop her laughter by kissing her again. And again. And again. They’d stayed together for three years and he’d loved every single day of it. Until the end.

  Zoe’s voice brought him back to the present. ‘So, are you going to try to track her down now?’

  ‘Trust me, I’m the last person she’d want to see – but I found out yesterday where she is and it’s just thrown me. Unfinished business.’

  ‘Then I think you need to finish it, one way or another, otherwise you’re going to live a lonely life, Tom,’ she said, not unkindly. ‘And if she’s married, with sixteen kids, and has an arse the size of Govan, give me a shout. In the meantime, I’m going to go to Vivienne Westwood for some consolation retail therapy.’

  ‘Before we eat?’

  ‘I’ve lost my appetite,’ she said, before signalling the waiter for the bill. ‘And you’re paying,’ she said, handing it over when it arrived. He was happy to.

  They pulled on their coats and headed to the glass lift in the corner of the centre. They were the first ones in, so ended up against the glass, watching the buzz of the centre as they descended. It stopped at the second floor, then slowed as they approached the first floor.

  ‘I’m going to get out here,’ Zoe said, before the usual scrimmage to enter and exit began. Just as it stopped, a sequence of events changed everything. His eyes caught a head in the distance, a bright red beret that he’d seen so many times before. Then he saw the face as the head turned round. Their eyes locked. It was her. It was definitely her. At that second, Zoe leaned over, kissed him. ‘Merry Christmas, Mr Butler. I hope you stop being bat shit crazy sometime soon.’ Then Zoe was gone and so was…

  His eyes scanned the path to the door, but she was no longer there.

  ‘Excuse me. Excuse me!’ he said desperately as he barged his way out of the elevator.

  A lift full of people watched as the guy dived out of the lift, ran down another flight of stairs and then started racing to the door.

  Twelve

  George

  It was Betty who noticed it first. I think men, especially back in those days, don’t notice these kinds of things in the early days.

  It was a few weeks after our honeymoon and we’d settled into our new house over in the West End near Betty’s family. She was about to start her training to be a nurse and it was closer to the college and to the hospital she would be working in at night. I’d managed to get a job as an engineer at Barr and Stroud, an optical engineering company in nearby Anniesland.

  Flora was over at our house for her dinner. It was the only place that my da let her go to alone. She’d broken up with Arthur, the boy she’d been seeing from Newton Mearns, so she had barely any life now.

  We’d had a smashing meal – my Betty was a cracking cook – but Flora hadn’t eaten much and it was fair to say she didn’t look herself. She was pale, drawn, and when Betty dished up the beef stew, Flora had to excuse herself from the table.

  After my da had come in his car to pick her up, I could tell there was something on Betty’s mind. Eventually, when we’d settled into bed, I got it out of her.

  ‘I think your Flora is pregnant.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. She can’t be…’ I stopped. Realising. I’d thought that kissing that arse Declan had been a one-off, but what if it wasn’t? I wasn’t in the house any more, so I had no idea if she was still sneaking out at night to meet him. I’d assumed that after Annie had left, she’d stopped.

  Annie. There was no denying the sadness when I thought of her. Of course, she hadn’t come back. Deep down, I’d always known that she wouldn’t. She’d written to me before the wedding and apologised, said that she’d decided to stay with her friend and work down in London, and she was sorry she wouldn’t be bridesmaid. Her letter filled me with sadness, even more so when she said there was nothing in Glasgow to come back for. When the family realised she wasn’t returning they made it very clear how they felt. Flora had been devastated, I’m guessing through guilt as much as the love she had for her sister. My dad had been thunderous, and declared that he didn’t want her name mentioned and my mother had gone along with it, even though I knew she would miss her. It wasn’t in her nature to disobey my da.

  As soon as I realised Betty was right about Flora, I’ll not lie, I had a fair notion to move to London myself. My da had never lost the rage about Annie leading Flora astray, and he’d been unbearable ever since. My mother teetered between eggshells and tears, trying desperately to cajole him back into some state of normality and recoiling like an injured deer every time he bit her head off.

  Our Flora pregnant? I didn’t even want to think about how he’d handle that.

  I hoped our fears were wrong, but when Betty questioned Flora on her next visit she broke down and admitted it was true. Inconsolable, the poor lass was, and frankly I was at a loss as to how to help her.

  Not that she wanted our interference. She made me promise not to tell Ma and Da, and I was only too happy to agree to that. I wanted to be nowhere near my father when he found out.

  ‘Is it Arthur’s baby or…’ Betty trailed off, unwilling to say the name of that other cretin.

  ‘No, Arthur and I have never…’ she paused to swallow a sob. ‘It’s Declan’s. I’m about three months along.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ I spat. ‘You carried on seeing him?’

  ‘Yes. But I’d been seeing him for a couple of months before you… saw us. I think that’s when I fell pregnant.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ I repeated. So that night I’d given him a leathering wasn’t the first night she’d been with him. And worse – I did the maths – she was already pregnant then.

  Straight away my Betty gave me such a glare that I didn’t speak again.

  ‘I did. I know what you must think of me, but I… I… love him. And he loves me. I can only get to see him once a week or so, when Da is at the pub, but it’s better than nothing.’

  ‘So what are you going to do, pet?’ Betty had asked her, while I kept my jaw clenched shut. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  Flora revealed that she’d thought it all through and she had decided on a course of action. She was going to tell Declan when she was ready, and she was absolutely positive that he would do the right thing by her. They could then tell our parents that they were getting married and get a hoof on up to the registry office.

  I didn’t share her confidence on any of the details of that plan, not least telling Declan in the first place. I knew Flora. She didn’t have the nerve to face difficult situations, nor was she worldly wise enough to realise that there were some people out there who were just bad bastards.

  At a loss, I sought help from the only person who knew enough about the people involved to give advice on how to proceed.

  I wrote to Annie. I’d heard from her only once since she moved away, and it was to tell me she wasn’t coming back. My next two letters had gone unanswered, so I knew nothing of her new life down south.

  I can’t remember now what I wrote, but I broke the news to her that Flora was pregnant by Declan, and that I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t tell her that Flora had already been seeing him, or that she’d continued to court Declan after Annie had left Gla
sgow, fearing it would hurt her even more.

  Her reply was swift. Only a few months ago, after this bastard disease was diagnosed, I came across her letter of reply when I was putting my affairs in order. I read it a dozen times and it still stung on every reading.

  Dear George,

  I wish I could tell you I was surprised to receive your letter, but I was not. He has no shame, that man. I was a fool to have trusted him, and I curse my stupidity for doing so every day. I can also say with some certainty that he will not stand by her. I also think, knowing Flora as I do, that she will delay telling him until the last possible moment, until she is showing and there is nothing to be done. Much as she has wounded me to the soul, I would not want to see that happen to her. I think the only way forward is for you to confront him, to tell him the truth, and to hope he does the right thing. They can be married, and Flora’s life will not be tarnished. However, be prepared that he will want nothing to do with this. If he does not, then at least it is early enough in the pregnancy for Flora to make the best choice for her situation, perhaps to leave and go elsewhere until the baby is born, because you know that Da will surely intervene and no good will come of that.

  I trust that you will do the right thing.