How I Lose You

by Kate McNaughton

  ‘Yes – it’s a pretty unbelievable story, actually …’

  ‘How did she get out?’

  ‘She had help from a friend of the family, a guy in West Germany. He’d arranged for a boat to come and pick her up, in the Baltic Sea – she went up to the coast on some kind of trip with the Communist youth organization, so that was her cover. And then the plan was that someone would come and pick her up in the night with this sort of dinghy – obviously you couldn’t get an actual boat so near to the coast without attracting attention – and then they would go out to the middle of the sea, cross over the territorial waters, and there would be a boat waiting to take her to the nearest port, in Denmark.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘You make it sound like it didn’t go to plan, though?’

  ‘It didn’t. Or at least, not exactly. The pick-up went OK, but it was really stormy that night, and they couldn’t just decide to push it back a couple of days, it was then or never, so they had to set out into the rain and these huge crashing waves and – well, they got lost, basically. They ended up going around for much longer than had been planned, without having much of an idea of what direction they were heading in, and then at some point, thank God, they see some lights in the distance and start signalling at them frantically – they’re almost out of diesel at this point too – and the boat comes towards them and they realize it’s not their guys, it’s the East German coast guard …’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes. And so they turn their lights off and huddle down – luckily it’s a pitch-black night and in the storm they’re almost invisible, and more importantly inaudible – and they manage to slowly putter away and the searchlights miss them by inches, and basically by some miracle they get away from them, and by an even greater miracle they manage to find the right boat just as they really are about to run out of fuel.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Yes, they were very lucky. My mother messed up the nerves in her left hand, because of the cold, she kept taking her glove off so she could manipulate the compass more easily, and now she can’t really feel anything in that hand, but that’s pretty much it.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘And presumably she wasn’t able to return to East Germany until the Wall came down?’

  ‘Oh – she’s never been back. Her parents died not that long afterwards, and, well, I suppose she felt there was nothing to go back for.’

  ‘My goodness.’

  A silence descends over the table – what misfortune, how lucky we are. Eva can feel Bennie’s bright eyes on her – he still has some of the child’s absolute involvement in the story he is being told – and Adam’s too, how much he admires her, how pleased he is to be able to show her off to his family. Eva basks in the glow of mystery and suffering conferred on her by her mother’s epic saga, is starting to rack her brain for more juicy details she could share, when Matt raises his glass.

  ‘Well – thank God people no longer have to do such things to escape oppression, eh. Here’s to the end of history.’

  Bennie redirects his wide eyes to his brother.

  ‘What do you mean, the end of history?’

  ‘It’s a book, you numbskull, look it up. I thought you were meant to be getting a proper education. Get thee to a library, and be thankful we no longer live with a battery of nuclear warheads pointing at our precious home.’

  Eva smiles at Bennie.

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think history is quite over yet – there’s still enough wrong with our world to keep us busy for a while …’

  ‘Well quite, and that’s why people like me are going into politics. But for someone like your mother, it must have been a relief, to see that destructive ideology die the death.’

  ‘I think she’d disagree with you, actually. She’s very critical of the system as it is now. And she would tell you that there were a lot of things that were good about the GDR, that worked better than our society does now.’

  ‘Like what? I mean, why did she go to all those risks to get out, if she thought it was so great?’

  ‘Perhaps – I don’t know. Perhaps she didn’t realize what would be waiting for her on the other side. Didn’t realize until she got to the West that the East did some things better. Like having a sense of community, of communal purpose.’

  ‘Unless you didn’t happen to agree with that communal purpose and got sent to Siberia.’

  ‘I’m just saying it’s a bit more complicated than that.’

  Suddenly, Eva doesn’t want to spin a tale any more – doesn’t want to turn her grandparents and mother into characters in the simplistic narrative that Matt has dreamt up. She feels ashamed of her earlier expansiveness, her thrill at having an audience, at being able to give them what they want, a scene out of a spy movie. When actually, it is real.

  Luckily, Matt has launched into an exegesis of Fukuyama’s theses for Bennie’s sake, and nobody seems to expect her to contribute to the conversation any more.

  It is real. When her mother has told her about it, there has been no excitement at the suspense, no boastfulness about the danger. Only the memory of those terrifying, huge waves, an unimaginable cold, and water, so much water, rain and sea and darkness and water, every minute lasting an hour, and the horror of discovering that what you thought was your rescue is a certain ticket to solitary confinement. Eva reddens with the shame of it, tries to focus instead on Adam as he basks in the glow of his warm, caring tribe.

  And she realizes that this is one of the things she loves about him, this confidence in his own origins, in a world that wants to do him good – and that this confidence is strong enough for her to share it too, to wrap it around her like a new skin.

  ‘IT’S SO WEIRD – it’s a bit like being on holiday – all of this.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘All this – people coming round. Coming round and just sitting around. And endless cups of tea. We all just sit around, making cups of tea.’

  ‘You know, Eva, you can say if it’s too much. If you need to be alone. People would understand.’

  ‘No, that wasn’t what I meant. I just – I’m just observing. It’s just strange. It’s like the world has ground to a halt, the way it does when there’s a Tube strike, or when it snows.’

  ‘Except we haven’t all used it as an excuse to go down to the pub.’

  Carmen shot Henry a glance that Eva felt propel her into a bygone era: the twinkle in her eye, the mischief curling the corner of her lip … It was as though the old Carmen was back, as though the intervening years of death and destruction were briefly being lifted.

  ‘I mean … We could, though.’

  ‘We could what?’

  ‘We could go down the pub.’

  Henry bristled with Englishness.

  ‘But – I mean – Carm. I don’t think Eva …’

  ‘It’s fine. Carmen’s right. Adam would much rather we went and had a pint in his honour rather than sitting around here moping.’

  ‘Well – I mean – if you’re sure …’

  ‘Come on, Hennes, you know it makes sense. Besides, you’re always boasting about your Irish roots – don’t your people celebrate their dead by getting wasted?’

  ‘Oh – we’re getting wasted now, are we?’

  ‘Let’s start with a pint and take it from there.’

  It was such an exquisitely painful, joyful moment. The bustle of the three friends as they pushed their chairs back, cleared the table, picked up their coats. The rustle of arms being slipped into sleeves, the tying of shoelaces. It was like countless moments at university, or on London evenings after that, when Adam had been with them. It was as though performing the actions they had shared with him might bring him back, or at least pushed them a little closer to him. For the first time since his death, Eva could feel the joy of who he was, of who he had been, even though she could also feel how much this joy would make his absence all the sharper once it had run its brief course. She smiled at Henry and Car
men.

  ‘Dude. It’s a while since I’ve seen you give us one of those.’

  A smile. She was smiling. Even though Adam was dead. Her facial muscles felt slightly strained, unused to the once-familiar motion, like an athlete back out on the running track after recovering from an injury.

  And then the old twinge, after all, tears streaming down to her upturned lips.

  ‘Oh God, now I’m crying … But I wanted to say …’

  She spluttered, and both Henry and Carmen started to half-cry, half-laugh as well.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to set you off … No, I wanted to say, this is good. I think Adam would approve. And I can, you know …’

  It took her a few more incoherent gargles to get the words out.

  ‘… this is bringing him back to me a lot more than … I don’t know. It’s like he’s with us, in spirit.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes, I feel that too.’

  ‘…’

  ‘…’

  ‘…’

  ‘Right then, let’s do it. Lamb?’

  ‘Lamb.’

  As they took some final moments to dab their eyes dry, Eva’s father returned to the flat and walked into the kitchen.

  ‘Ah. Carmen, Henry. Hello.’

  ‘Hi, Jim.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Can I get anyone a cup of tea?’

  ‘Thanks, Dad, we were actually about to go out.’

  ‘Oh really? Good. Where to?’

  ‘To the pub.’

  ‘Right. Well, yes, why not.’

  ‘We won’t be long though.’

  ‘Oh no, take as long as you like. Your mother should be back soon too, she and I can take care of dinner.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Sorry to hear about your job, Henry.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. Thank you, Mr Bard. Well, you know – it’s just … the way things go, I suppose.’

  ‘Hm. Yes. Well, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding something else.’

  ‘Let’s hope so …’

  ‘Why? What happened to your job?’

  ‘You haven’t been watching the news much lately, have you, Eva?’

  ‘Um. No …’

  ‘I’ll explain once we get to the pub. Come on.’

  ‘Right-o. Yes. Off you go, then.’

  ‘Right, yes.’

  ‘Bye, Jim.’

  ‘Bye, Mr Bard.’

  ‘Bye, Carmen. Bye, Henry. Bye, love.’

  They filed out of the flat under her father’s watchful eye, like teenagers, like kids, like people from before the time Adam died.

  ‘RIGHT, SO. EVA, gin and tonic, I assume?’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right, Henry, I’ll get this.’

  ‘No, no, no, really, this one is definitely on me. I have a couple of announcements to make, you see.’

  ‘Oh. Well. OK, then. Yes, G&T.’

  ‘Carm?’

  ‘I’ll have an Old Bombardier please, Henry.’

  ‘Adam?’

  ‘Um. Pint of lager. Any.’

  ‘Right-o.’

  Henry manages to carve himself a passage through the Friday-evening pub crowd, mainly by throwing his weight around.

  ‘Helps to be a rugby player at times like these, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly does. Yet another area where a public-school education gives you an unfair advantage over the rest of us.’

  ‘What’s all this about announcements? Either of you know what he’s on about?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘Let’s just hope he’s not about to tell us he’s got that ghastly woman pregnant or something.’

  ‘Oh my God. I hadn’t even thought of that. It can’t be that, surely?’

  ‘I’d have thought Henry had enough sense of propriety not to let that happen accidentally.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’

  ‘Imagine. We’d be saddled with her for life.’

  ‘He’d be saddled with her for life.’

  ‘Oh, please let it not be that.’

  ‘I know we’ve been over this a million times already, but what does he see in her?’

  ‘Right, I might just leave you two to bitch away for a while and help Henry carry those pints.’

  ‘Oh, like you’ve never said a bad word about her.’

  ‘Just wish me luck getting through the crowd. I never did have the right frame for rugby.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve always wondered why Eva went for such a puny type as you.’

  ‘Charming.’

  ‘It’s his mind, Carmen. Adam has a very attractive mind.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t say bitch about me.’

  ‘Ad, I hate to break it to you, but that would kill off about fifty per cent of the conversations Eva and I have together.’

  ‘Besides, you seemed to be saying you disapprove of us bitching about Georgie? I mean, we’ve got to talk about someone …’

  ‘OK, fine. I’m going to help Henry.’

  Adam’s technique for negotiating a London crowd is to slide between the cracks; it’s a talent as well, to reach your goal through unobtrusiveness. Soon, he too has disappeared into the mass.

  Eva looks at the bodies, packed together like T-shirts in an overfilled suitcase. Or Semtex. She tries to get an estimate of numbers: fifty, maybe, between here and the bar. There were three more suicide bombings today in Baghdad. Forty-three dead. She thinks of the Admiral Duncan, and feels a fleeting surge of adrenalin that is half panic, half something else. Excitement? Why else do people watch disaster movies, thrillers, the nine o-clock news?

  ‘You guys are lucky, you know, Eva.’

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘Just – that you and Adam have such a good relationship. There aren’t that many of those around.’

  ‘No, you’re right. Although I think it’s mainly me who’s lucky to have Adam.’

  ‘He’s lucky to have you too. You’re both lucky.’

  ‘Hm. Anyway. To return to the topic of the heinous Georgie …’

  ‘Ugh.’

  ‘Come on, Carm. Don’t you think you should speak to Henry?’

  ‘What, about how heinous Georgie is?’

  ‘Well – yeah.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I think Henry’s serious. Don’t you?’

  ‘Well – yes, I think he probably is – but, I mean, we can’t exactly butt in and tell him to split up with her, can we?’

  ‘Do you think she’ll make him happy?’

  ‘…’

  ‘…’

  ‘Good question. I don’t know.’

  ‘If we think she won’t make him happy, don’t we have a duty to intervene?’

  ‘Well – I don’t know. I don’t feel I can judge whether she’ll make him happy or not. I mean, he has chosen to go out with her.’

  ‘…’

  ‘Eva, if you feel so certain about it, why don’t you talk to him?’

  ‘Because – I mean, come on …’

  ‘Come on what?’

  ‘Come on, you’re the one who has this – thing with him …’

  Carmen laughs, head thrown back, throat open.

  ‘What thing do I have with Henry?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘We’re friends. Close friends.’

  ‘He’d be much happier with you than with Georgie.’

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’

  ‘…’

  ‘And who says I would want to be with Henry, anyway?’

  ‘Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.’

  ‘Here they are.’

  Henry sloshes beer over the table as he plonks the pints down; Adam promptly but carefully deposits his drinks and mops up the spillage with a napkin he must have taken from the bar with precisely this eventuality in mind. Henry, oblivious, stretches out in his chair.

  ‘So.’

  ‘So yes. Henry. What’s all this news you’ve got?’

  ‘Well.’
>
  ‘…’

  ‘Come on, Henry, we’re all on tenterhooks here.’

  ‘I feel I should warn you, Carmen, that you’re not going to like it.’

  ‘Why am I not going to like it?’

  ‘Because I have been offered a new job.’

  ‘Doing what – designing weapons to kill Iraqi children?’

  ‘Not quite, but I fear bad enough in your eyes – I’ve been offered a position as senior analyst at Lehman Brothers.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’

  ‘I told you you wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘I don’t not like it! You’re putting words into my mouth.’

  ‘Only because I know you so well.’

  Henry’s take-it-or-leave-it bluster is betrayed by the genuine anxiety in his eyes as he looks at Carmen; he really is worried about what she’ll think, isn’t he?

  Adam makes a valiant attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

  ‘Well, congrats, Henry old banana – cheers!’

  ‘Cheers! Yes, congrats, Henry.’

  ‘Cheers. Congratulations.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘OK, so please do not interpret this as me criticizing your choice, because I’m not. But – you’re becoming an investment banker, right? Aren’t you kind of lacking in mathematical knowledge for that?’

  ‘No, all I’ll have to do is read the papers – at my level you’re looking at the bigger picture. The grunt work is for the junior analysts.’

  ‘Aren’t you a bit young to be senior?’

  ‘Well. OK. A few strings were pulled. But you know, Carm, I actually have quite good analytical skills – they put me through a battery of tests and my results were more than decent.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t doubt that. Well, well done. I mean, it’s great.’

  ‘I’m certainly excited about the fat wad of cash that’s going to be landing in my account every month, let me tell you. But yes, it’s going to be a really fascinating job. I mean, I know you disapprove, Carm, but these guys really are at the centre of things, you know? You’re having a real impact on the world, working for a company like that.’

  Poor Henry. They’ve had enough impassioned arguments over the evils – or not – of the financial sector for him to know that his best friends aren’t going to share his enthusiasm for his chosen career path. And he really is so enthusiastic, bubbling with excitement at the life to come! Eva has often wondered why Henry doesn’t just fraternize with his own kind, who would share his world view unquestioningly. He is the most tolerant of them all, really, and the bravest, nurturing his closest friendships with people who disagree with pretty much everything he stands for. If Carmen and he ever do manage to get it together, they’ll certainly be in for some lively debates over their cornflakes every morning.