You Sent Me a Letter

by Lucy Dawson

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say immediately. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  She pulls back the curtain.

  ‘Mum,’ I say quickly, ‘if they come to get me for the scan while you’re gone, just wait here until I’m back. I’m sure they won’t, but in case they do, I don’t want you to worry.’

  ‘All right,’ she says obediently, and suddenly I feel like the parent, about to sneak away from playgroup while my child’s back is turned.

  I watch her walk down the ward and pause at the nurses’ station. For God’s sake, Mum! I said don’t tell them! But then she points uncertainly towards a door, and I realize she’s just asking for directions. The second she disappears through it, I get up from the bed and grab the overnight bag. Putting it quickly on the bed, I pull back the zip. I haven’t let it out of my sight since we climbed into the ambulance, but I can’t risk leaving without checking the letter is still there, under the dress and shoes.

  It is.

  I shut it again and take a deep breath. Here goes. Picking up the bag, I begin to walk towards the nurses’ station, past the rest of the bays. It’s busy, with patients and their relatives talking to other doctors. The nurse and doctor that assessed me are nowhere to be seen. Blood is squishing in my ears because my heart is beating so loudly, but I lift my head up confidently and don’t make eye contact with the nurse that just spoke to Mum. She doesn’t even look up anyway. I turn left and push straight out through the double doors, following signs to the exit, and very quickly find myself in a hectic waiting room. No one looks at me as I walk straight through to the main doors and into the foyer, before heading outside.

  I breathe out. When Mum gets back, hopefully, like I said, she’s going to assume I’ve gone for my scan and just sit there. Even if she does ask someone, they’re probably going to think I’m being scanned and not actually check. I should have at least twenty minutes, maybe more, before they realize I’m gone. But I need to get going, especially as, without my phone, I have no idea what time it is.

  Now, I need a cab…

  I look around, but to my surprise there is no obvious rank, which is also when I realize I have no money on me – no purse, no nothing. Shit! But once I get there, someone will pay for me, surely? Biting my lip as I clutch my bag containing my couture dress and ludicrously expensive bracelet and shoes, I try to think. The nearest rank will be down at the station, but that is at least a ten- to fifteen-minute walk from here. I don’t have time.

  I’m just starting to panic when, unbelievably, a taxi rounds the corner and indicates to turn left, starting to slow down. I can see someone in the back. It’s dropping someone off! My heart lifts and, as the car comes to a stop by the pavement, I move hurriedly over, hovering as the rear passenger door opens and an older lady gets out. She fumbles in her bag for money as the taxi driver opens his electric window, then she passes over a crisp note, for which she gets no change. ‘Thank you very much,’ I hear her say politely, before she steps away, looks up and notices me. She smiles and I smile politely back, before hurrying over to the passenger door as the window begins to close again.

  ‘Excuse me!’ I say desperately, and it judders to a halt, leaving just a small gap for me to speak through. ‘Could you take me to Goldhurst Park? It’s really urgent that I get there as soon as I can.’

  The slight, shrunken driver in his fifties scratches his loose nylon trousers with nicotine-stained fingers, and is already shaking his head firmly like I’m an idiot before I’ve even got my words out. ‘Fully booked,’ he says, from behind a horrible moustache. I hardly see his lips move. ‘Have been since midday. It’s all the early evening lot now, for the pubs and restaurants. You could call the office but they won’t have anything until at least half eight.’

  ‘I’ll pay double the going rate.’

  He doesn’t react – just reaches forward and gets a card from the glove compartment. ‘I just go where I’m told. Like I said, you’ll have to call the office.’

  I straighten up miserably. ‘Thank you, but I don’t have my phone with me and past eight is much too late.’

  He shrugs like it’s no skin off his nose, then does his window up all the way before indicating to the right and driving off. Frightened, I watch him disappear off up the road again. What the hell am I supposed to do now?

  ‘Excuse me?’

  I jump. The older lady is standing right behind me.

  ‘I couldn’t help overhearing,’ she says. ‘Would you like to use my phone?’ She holds out an ancient mobile. ‘You’d be most welcome if there is someone you need to call to come and get you? Please, take it.’ She pushes it into my hands. ‘I can see you’re in a hurry for something. I love the pins in your hair,’ she adds. ‘My mother had some that were very similar.’

  ‘Thank you so much!’ I blurt, but then discover I am at a complete loss as to who to call. All of my friends and the rest of my family are at the hotel waiting for me – by the time they got here it would be too late and, in any case, I’m shocked to realize that I don’t know anyone’s number off by heart. Not a single soul.

  Well, all except one person.

  I swallow, close my eyes, and start to dial.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It rings and rings. Oh, please, please answer your phone!

  Still nothing…

  Maybe he’s changed his number? But surely he wouldn’t – it was always his business one, too.

  ‘Hello?’

  I catch my breath. ‘Josh? It’s me, Sophie.’

  I can practically feel him sitting up straight. ‘Wow.’ There is long pause, and finally he says, incredulously, ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m not great, actually.’ My voice starts to tremble. ‘I need your help. I know this is going to sound totally mad, but do you think you could come to the hospital and get me, then drive me to Goldhurst Park?’

  ‘As in the big posh hotel?’ he says, confused. I hear a female voice in the background murmur something. ‘No, it’s not’ – he half covers the phone – ‘it’s someone else… Sorry, you were saying? You’re at the hospital, yeah?’

  ‘Outside A&E, yes,’ I say, wishing with all my heart there was any other number I could have rung. ‘I wouldn’t ask unless it was an absolute emergency.’

  ‘I know you wouldn’t. You need me to come right now?’

  ‘Yes. Er, you do still live in Middlebridge, don’t you?’

  ‘Yup. I’ll be there in five minutes.’

  Relief floods through me. ‘Oh, thank you so much! Actually, I’m going to walk up to the main road and turn left into that road that runs down towards the park.’

  ‘Hopewood Gardens?’ he says. ‘Where they’ve built that new block of flats on the corner, opposite where the guitar shop used to be?’

  ‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘I’ll wait down there. Is that all right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Oh, and this isn’t my number either. I’ve borrowed someone’s phone, so don’t call me back on it.’

  ‘All right,’ he says slowly. ‘I’ll just wait until I see you on the roadside if you’re not there when I arrive. It’s a black BMW. I’m leaving now.’

  He hangs up, and I turn back to the older lady, who is waiting a few steps away from me, politely not listening.

  ‘Thank you so much.’ I hasten over to her. ‘I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’

  ‘It was no trouble at all. I do hope you managed to arrange something.’ She reaches out, puts a hand on my arm and squeezes it very briefly. It’s such a simple gesture of support, but I am very grateful indeed for her kindness. ‘Goodbye.’ She smiles, and walks off through the automatic doors of the A&E.

  I stare after her for a moment, then turn and start to stride quickly up the hill. The absolutely last thing I want to happen is for Alice and Marc to drive past me. I’m hurrying so much, I practically break into a run, prevented only by the awkward bulk of the bag, which I am having to keep by my side because the straps are too short for me to put
it over my shoulder.

  I approach the left turn. He’s right, it is Hopewood Gardens.

  I walk far enough down so that I can’t be seen from the main road, and come to a stop outside what obviously used to be a private house, but has now been converted into a vet’s practice. It’s closed, and the small, tarmacked car park is empty. I sit down on the low brick wall to wait and put the bag at my feet.

  When the black car appears over the brow of the hill, it is the strangest feeling to watch Josh slowly drive down towards me, indicator flashing; just like the hundreds of times he’d come to get me from work over the years, albeit now in a much nicer car than we ever could have afforded back then.

  ‘Hi,’ Josh says, as I open the car door nervously and get in, rather awkwardly balancing the bag on my knees as I slam it shut. Breathing in the familiar smell of his aftershave, I turn to him. He gives me a slightly quizzical look, and there’s a horrible pause where I wonder if I should give him a kiss on the cheek or something… but then I’ve hardly bumped into him socially, so I don’t, and instead quickly reach for my seat belt, face flaming.

  ‘All in?’ he says, and I nod silently. He glances over his shoulder and pulls smoothly away. ‘I thought I’d go the back way, down Sector Lane – as you’re in a bit of a rush.’

  ‘Good idea.’ He’s filled out a little in the four years since we last met – I bumped into him in the shopping centre while he was with his mum – and his once dark hair is now liberally flecked with grey. He’s also sporting quite a bit of stubble but, other than that, he looks exactly the same. He’s even wearing an old sweatshirt I recognize. This is so, so odd.

  We drive in silence for a moment, then he glances sideways at me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘This must seem completely mental.’

  ‘A bit surprising, maybe,’ he agrees.

  ‘It’s just literally everyone else I could have asked is already at the hotel waiting for me, and I have to be there by eight o’clock… It’s my birthday today,’ I explain, embarrassed. ‘Well, my fortieth, actually.’

  His mouth falls open. ‘No! But it’s not the fifteenth, today?’

  ‘Er, no, it’s not, but my birthday isn’t the fifteenth.’

  ‘Oh.’ He pulls an awkward face and says hastily, ‘Wow! Well, happy birthday!’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Still obviously confused, he says, ‘So what were you doing in A&E then?’

  ‘Head injury.’

  ‘Shit!’ He glances at me in concern. ‘You’re all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say quickly. ‘It’s just everyone has gone to a lot of trouble to make this evening really special, and I don’t want to ruin it for them by making a fuss I only realized once I left the hospital that I didn’t have my purse or my phone with me – I was literally stranded.’ He doesn’t say anything, just listens. ‘I tried to get a cab, but I’d forgotten what it’s like on a Saturday night here. They said it would be more like nine and I couldn’t wait that long.’

  ‘Soph,’ he says. ‘What’s going on?’

  I look at him, frightened. ‘Nothing! I told you, I have to get there, that’s all.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have called me because you were late for a party, fortieth or not. Are you in some kind of trouble?’

  ‘I’m getting married tonight,’ I blurt, opting for the same diversion tactic that I’ve been using all day.

  His eyes widen. ‘Jeez. OK…’

  There is a long pause, and he shifts slightly in his seat as he stares at the road, taking one hand off the steering wheel and resting his elbow on the window, rubbing his head lightly. ‘This just got a lot weirder. That’s why you called me?’

  I whip around, horrified. ‘No, no, no! Nothing like that, I swear to you! What, you think I’m having some last-minute doubts and I’m just checking to make sure you don’t want to sweep me off into the sunset after all?’ I laugh, but he doesn’t. Oh God – that’s exactly what he thinks. ‘Josh, I’ve not seen you or spoken to you for over four years! That’d be insane of me!’

  There’s a pause, and then he clears his throat. ‘One of the things you said, the morning I came to get my stuff out of the house, was that I had to be sure I was doing the right thing, because if we ever walked into each other’s lives again, it would only be by chance, and we’d probably both be with other people by then anyway, and was I prepared to take the risk?’

  I give a more awkward laugh this time. I absolutely remember saying that. Mostly because of the pain I felt when he rather sullenly replied that yes, he was prepared for that. I’m amazed he recalls it so clearly, though. ‘I think in fairness we both said quite a lot of stuff back then that we probably didn’t mean. I promise you, Josh – this isn’t about me desperately “creating” a moment for us to meet again, before the door closes for ever.’ I turn in my seat to face him full on. ‘Look, my husband-to-be has got a completely psychotic ex-wife. And I mean actually unstable – not just your average wacky texts and letting tyres down. I can’t tell you more than that, but I really needed to get away from the hospital fast, and I’ve only told you I’m getting married so you understand why it’s so important I get to the hotel.’

  He looks appalled. ‘She put you in hospital?’

  I close my eyes briefly, suddenly so exhausted that all I want to do is curl up and sleep for a thousand years. ‘No,’ I say wearily. ‘I hit my head on a table and I knew everyone was going to say I had to stay at the hospital to be treated, but I can’t, for reasons I can’t explain. I know how it all sounds, and if I could tell you any more, I would.’ I pause and add, ‘If you want the honest truth, I called you because yours is the only number I can ever remember off the top of my head. That, and I thought there was a chance you might still live nearby.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he grunts. ‘Well, that was predictable, I suppose.’

  I look at him in surprise. ‘Nothing wrong with that. I’m still in Rainshill.’

  He smiles. ‘Same house?’

  ‘Yup.’

  He looks pleased. ‘I wondered if you might be, but I’m not on Facebook or anything—’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I say politely. As if I’ve never tried looking for him, not once.

  ‘—and I’ve pretty much lost touch with all of the old lot, so—’

  ‘You’re still with Melanie, then?’ I say, not thinking, and have to add quickly, ‘Not that she’s why you’re not in touch with everyone now,’ although that’s exactly what I mean. Several of our mutual friends have remarked to me over the years that they no longer see much of Josh since Mel – his very tall, attractive and fiercely possessive new girlfriend – arrived on the scene.

  He looks amused. ‘Yeah, I am. Still bumbling along.’

  Yes, well, if I remember rightly, Melanie’s quite a bit younger. She won’t be hitting the ‘No bumbling beyond this point’ fork in the road for about another year or so.

  ‘Are you still teaching?’ he says.

  I shake my head. ‘Nope. Gave it up.’

  He looks genuinely taken back. ‘But you loved it.’

  I shrug and grip the bag more tightly as we go round a corner. ‘Things change.’

  ‘Well, that’s a real shame,’ he says. ‘I’ve never seen anyone as passionate about their job as you were about yours. Do you miss it?’

  I hesitate. ‘Bits of it. The actual teaching – very much.’

  ‘What are you doing instead now, then?’

  ‘I work in London in sales. Some of my clients are children’s charities, though.’

  ‘Oh, well, that’s good,’ he reasons. ‘You’re still putting your skills to use, then. And at least it’s an easy commute from Rainshill. You were so smart to buy there when you did. The house must be worth a fortune now. Do you know Rainshill’s got the most millionaires per square foot in the whole country? I thought you’d have sold it to go and live abroad and set up your own school.’

  I smile briefly. He remembers that too? ‘Are you still working in t
own?’

  ‘Yeah. It’s a living, and loads of people want us at the moment because so many of them are building extensions but, to be honest, I’d happily never fit another kitchen for the rest of my life. Plus we’re covering a wider area now, so I spend most of my time in the bloody van.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘and now you’re playing taxi on your night off.’

  He looks at me in surprise. ‘Don’t give it a second thought. Anyway, I’m pleased you asked.’ He hesitates. ‘I’m sorry about my comment before, when you said you were getting married. That was a really stupid thing to say.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I say. ‘It’s hardly your average Saturday night call, is it?’

  ‘You don’t know my average Saturday night,’ he deadpans, and it strikes me suddenly that’s true. I knew this man better than anyone for almost a decade. I know the only thing he won’t eat is egg white. I know his mum’s middle name. I know what all of his family pets were called and which one he loved best. I know that he would cheerfully punch a man called Chris if he ever saw him again, and why. I know we were once everything to each other… But I know nothing about his life now. He is practically a stranger to me, yet he’s held me naked in his arms.

  ‘Hello?’ he says, and I look at him, blinking. ‘I said, “Actually, all I was doing was watching TV” and you didn’t say a thing. You all right?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I answer automatically, then turn away and look out of the window. ‘We’re making good time. Thank you.’

  ‘Well, we’ll have to drive around a bit, then,’ he says. ‘The bride’s meant to be slightly late, isn’t she?’

  ‘Not this one.’ I smile tightly.

  He looks puzzled, but doesn’t pursue it. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’ He nods at my jeans and shirt.

  ‘Of course not, I’ve got everything in my bag. In fact, that’s a point. How the hell am I supposed to get changed without anyone seeing me?’ I realize aloud.

  He shrugs. ‘Just do it here. I don’t care.’

  I look at him like he’s mad. ‘Don’t be completely ridiculous!’