The House of Memories

by Monica McInerney

Love for now,

  Jess xxxxoooo

  P.S. It’s an hour later. Ben was THRILLED with the clean flat. And he said sorry if he’d sounded a bit weird on the phone earlier, his supervisor was listening. He also said that I can stay here for as long as I want, especially if I’m going to clean up like that!! (He’s obviously feeling REALLY guilty about my stuff being stolen!) So now I basically have TWO places to choose from, here and Angela’s floor. And guess what? He said that someone was in the hotel looking for me today!! He doesn’t know more than that, because he was so hungover he spent most of the day hiding and sleeping in the linen room and so didn’t talk to the manager like all the other porters did, but apparently two people were in asking about me, a man and a woman. I think they must have been agents!!! I gave the hotel as my contact details in my first emails to everyone in the theatre world, and maybe they tried to phone me but when they couldn’t get an answer on account of my phone being stolen they came to the hotel instead to meet me in person!! I begged Ben to ring the manager to ask who they were but he said he needs to lie low with her at the moment (he’s worried someone told her he spent the day in the linen room) but he’ll ask tomorrow. He’s on the breakfast shift so he’ll be in there bright and early. Am Very Hopeful and Excited!!

  Chapter Forty-three

  The phone woke us all up. It was just after five-thirty a.m. Lucas answered it. I heard him coming up the stairs calling to Charlie and me. In seconds, both of us were out of our beds. We met Lucas on the landing. He was in his pyjamas, holding the phone. ‘It’s Walter. They’ve had an email from Jess. She’s lost her phone but she’s alive and well.’

  ‘That’s it? Where is she?’ I asked.

  ‘She didn’t say. They don’t know.’

  ‘She disappears for five days and then doesn’t say where she’s been? The selfish —’

  Charlie put his hand on my arm. ‘Ella —’

  I let the rush of temper pass. I let myself feel relief instead. ‘Sorry,’ I said.

  Charlie took the phone and had a brief conversation with Walter and then with Mum. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could guess. Charlie soothed them both, gave them my love too, promised to email Jess himself and meet up with her as soon as possible. When he hung up, I could see the relief on his face as well.

  We stayed up. Charlie brought his laptop down to the kitchen and wrote Jess an email while Lucas brewed coffee. He read it out to us before he pressed send. He hadn’t held back.

  ‘Jessica Baum, you are in BIG trouble. I’m in London because your parents have been so worried. You can’t just disappear like that. AS SOON AS YOU GET THIS EMAIL ring your mum and dad and then ring me. I’m at Lucas’s.’ He typed in the number and pressed send.

  We’d just finished our breakfast when there was a pinging noise from his laptop. An incoming email. It was from Jess. Charlie read it out loud.

  ‘Charlie!!! I’m up early too! Are you really in London????? FANTASTIC!!! I’d love to see you!! I’ll ring Mum and Dad first and then I’ll ring you, promise. I’ve got a bit of a problem phone-wise. (I’m sending this from my new friend and flatmate Ben’s phone. He works at the hotel I stayed at. I’d ring on his phone but he has to go in early today to find out if there were agents in looking for me yesterday – it’s a long story!!!) So I need to go to the phone box down the road but I’ll call you as soon as I can, I promise! CAN’T WAIT to see you!!!! Jess xxxxoooo.’ Charlie looked up. ‘Fifty exclamation marks. I think she’s okay.’

  He turned back to his laptop again, rapidly keying in words, bringing up an airline website. He was checking for flights back to Boston, I realised.

  ‘Are you going straight back home?’ I asked.

  ‘I need to. Lucy’s had to take time off work to look after the kids. But I won’t go until I’ve seen Jess in person. Told her off in person. Can you both come with me? I might need a bodyguard. Or Jess might, at least.’

  ‘I’ll come,’ Lucas said. ‘I’d like to meet Jessica. Ella, will you come too?’ There was a challenge in his voice. But I couldn’t join them. In the middle of the night, I’d made a decision about what I would do once we knew Jess was safe.

  I told them I was going to see Aidan.

  Lucas offered to accompany me to the hotel. Charlie offered to call me a taxi. It was less than ten minutes’ walk away. I thanked them and said I was happy to go on my own.

  I showered. I changed my clothes three times. I pulled at the short strands of my hair, as though that would make it long again, as though that would turn me back into the person who had last seen Aidan, all those months ago in Canberra. I wanted to go back even further, to the woman I had been before everything happened. I put make-up on, then I took it off. I put lipstick on. I wiped that off as well.

  ‘Have you rung him?’ Lucas asked when I came downstairs.

  I shook my head.

  ‘But he’s here for work, isn’t he?’ Charlie said. ‘He might be in a conference room somewhere. Wouldn’t it be better to make a time with him?’

  I knew they were right. But I didn’t want our first conversation to be over the phone. I needed to see his face, his eyes.

  ‘I’d rather just turn up,’ I said.

  When it was finally time for me to go, they both came to the door to say goodbye. They both hugged me too.

  ‘Good girl,’ Lucas said quietly.

  I walked along the street, joining the flow of morning commuters, as if I was going to my ordinary office job, on an ordinary morning. I glanced at my watch. It wasn’t even nine. It was bitterly cold. The wind was like ice. I pulled my coat in tighter around me, tugged my scarf up higher. I wished I’d worn my hat. It had been a moment of vanity as I left. I hadn’t wanted to spoil my hair. It would be enough of a shock for Aidan to see it so short. He’d only ever known me with long hair.

  It was barely nine when I arrived at the hotel. It seemed too early. I walked around the block twice, glad of the traffic noise. It made it hard to think. It was nine-thirty when I came into the Art Deco-style lobby.

  There was a large group of people checking in or checking out, I couldn’t tell which. They were speaking different languages, French, German, Italian. A tour group or a company delegation? The delegation Aidan was here interpreting for? I turned, expecting to see him in the middle of the group. No, they were tourists, holding maps and brochures. They were all checking in. I was in for a long wait.

  Observe.

  I walked around the lobby. There was a lounge area with a piano and a restaurant full of people having breakfast. I didn’t want to look too closely in case Aidan was there, finishing his coffee. He always had two large cups of coffee in the morning. There were three elevators to my right, their doors opening and shutting constantly, the hotel at its morning busiest. I didn’t want to watch them in case the doors opened and Aidan walked out. Not on his own. With someone.

  With his new girlfriend?

  Distract.

  I’d travelled with him on several work trips over the years. The furthest had been to Bangkok, when we were first living in Canberra. I spent the days visiting temples and markets, joining him in the evenings for the formal gatherings with the rest of the trade delegation. He kept apologising for having to work so much.

  I’d laughed. ‘It’s so rude of you to work on a work trip. I’m fine, Aidan. It’s fun. I get to see you in action.’

  I’d felt so proud watching him at those dinners and cocktail parties. I stood with the other partners, making small talk about the weather, the food, the sights, while the real business was done around us in six different languages, four of which Aidan spoke. The conference had lasted for three days. I expected to fly home on the Thursday with everyone else, but he surprised me. He’d booked us in for three more days and upgraded us to a suite. It was a five-star hotel.

  ‘Aidan, we can’t,’ I’d said. ‘It’s fantastic but we can’t afford it.’ We were saving for a house. It was before we were married, before Felix.


  He lowered his voice. ‘Don’t call the police, but I’ve raided the curtains money.’

  It was a joke between us. Aidan had discovered my long-term house savings plan consisted of emptying my purse of any spare change at the end of each day and putting it into a biscuit tin. He said I reminded him of being a kid back home in Ireland, saving for the foreign church missions. But he joined in all the same. Our two sets of change started to fill the tin. I made a label for it – House Money – but then got worried it would be too obvious if we were ever burgled. I put a new label on instead: Curtains.

  ‘Curtains?’ Aidan said when he saw it.

  ‘It was the first thing I thought of.’

  ‘Excellent decoy. Burglars will never look in there. Unless they’re after very tiny curtains.’

  From then on, our spare money was called our curtains money. If we were exhausted at the end of a week’s work and didn’t feel like cooking, we’d raid the tin and go out to a local restaurant.

  ‘Thanks, curtains,’ Aidan would say as he paid the bill.

  It wasn’t the curtains that had paid for our surprise holiday, though. Aidan confessed he’d taken on two freelance projects to pay for it. He’d told me he was just doing overtime.

  I rejoined the queue in the hotel lobby. Fifteen minutes later, one of the three receptionists smiled over at me. ‘Good morning, ma’am. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Are you checking in?’

  I stepped forward. ‘I’d like to see one of your guests, please. Mr Aidan O’Hanlon.’

  I heard the click of computer keys. ‘Your name, please.’

  ‘Ella. Ella O’Hanlon. Arabella Fox Baum O’Hanlon.’ I’d given my full name as if I was at a security checkpoint.

  ‘One moment please.’ Another click of the keys. He picked up the phone and dialled Aidan’s room. After a minute, he replaced the receiver. ‘I’m sorry, Ms O’Hanlon. Mr O’Hanlon’s not in his room. May I leave a message?’

  I breathed out. Tension, relief, I wasn’t sure which. I’d have to come back. I’d be more prepared next time. As I tried to decide what message to leave, I noticed the receptionist lean forward to look at his screen. ‘Excuse me, ma’am. One moment please.’

  He went into an adjoining office. Behind me I heard a sigh, an impatient guest waiting her turn to check in. The receptionist at the next terminal called her over. I stayed where I was.

  The man returned, holding a yellow envelope. ‘My apologies, Ms O’Hanlon. I didn’t see the note on my computer straightaway. Mr O’Hanlon left this package for you. Could you sign here please?’

  It was A4-sized, about an inch thick. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know. If you could sign here to confirm you’ve received it?’

  ‘Is there any other message? Will he be back later?’

  He made a point of smiling at the person in the queue behind me, a smile to say he’d be with them soon. ‘I’m presuming any message is in the envelope, Ms O’Hanlon. Could I ask you to please sign here?’

  I turned. More than a dozen people were waiting behind me. ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

  I signed my name. I wanted to ask more – what time Aidan had left the envelope, what he’d said when he left it there, how he had looked – but the receptionist was already dealing with the next guest. I took a step to the side, trying to decide what to do.

  Another tour group came in. The noise level rose. I moved further back, to a corner of the now crowded foyer. It had taken me four days to open Aidan’s letter. I couldn’t take that long this time. I would go straight back to Lucas’s and —

  Jess might be there. Jess might have already rung Charlie, got into a taxi and come to visit. She could be sitting at the kitchen table right now, drinking tea with Charlie and Lucas —

  I couldn’t go back there. Not yet.

  There was an empty armchair in the far corner of the lounge area. Just one, pushed into a corner, as if it had been moved out of the way by a cleaner. That would do.

  I walked across the foyer, holding the envelope tightly. The contents felt familiar, like a manuscript, one hundred pages or more. What would it be? Legal letters? Divorce papers? A statement of our assets to be divided?

  We had no shared assets. We never had bought that house. We’d decided to keep renting. There had been a car but I’d left it in Canberra for him. What else had we owned together? Books? Some furniture? Kitchenware? I didn’t even know where any of those things were now.

  You just ran away and left him, Ella.

  If it was a legal letter, I’d agree to everything. I’d give Aidan everything. Whatever he wanted. Wherever it all was, I’d pay to ship it all across to Washington, if he hadn’t already done it. I’d make this as simple as possible for him, so he could make a new life for himself. I would sign whatever he needed me to sign and give it back to the receptionist. We wouldn’t even need to see each other again.

  The armchair was as private as it was possible to be in a crowded hotel lounge. There was a large pot plant to one side, a small table on the other. Before I had a chance to open the envelope, a waitress appeared. ‘Can I get you anything, ma’am?’

  I wasn’t a hotel guest. I couldn’t just sit here. ‘A pot of tea, please.’

  I decided to wait until she came back before I opened the envelope. I sat with it on my lap, forcing myself to stay calm. To breathe. Observe.

  I glanced across at the elevators. The doors of the middle one opened. Aidan walked out.

  It couldn’t be Aidan.

  It was Aidan.

  It was Aidan.

  He was with two women. Women in suits. They stopped in front of the elevators. One was talking. Aidan listened, spoke. The other talked, Aidan listened, spoke. Back and forth it went. He was working, interpreting. I shrank down into the chair. My heart started beating more rapidly. I waited for him to go to the desk, to ask if his parcel had been collected. He didn’t. He didn’t look back at the desk, or around the foyer or in my direction. He and his two companions simply walked out through the main doors, out onto the concourse. A uniformed porter lifted his hand. A black taxi appeared. All three of them got in. The taxi pulled away.

  ‘Your tea, ma’am?’ The waitress placed the tray down. She poured my tea. I thanked her and asked to pay my bill straightaway. I gave her a tip. More thanks. Then, finally, I was alone.

  I wanted to rewind that scene at the elevator. I wanted to see him again. I wanted a freeze-frame of my husband. It had been too quick, but he hadn’t looked any different. He had looked like Aidan. Dressed in a dark suit. His hair still so dark. He hadn’t been smiling. He’d looked very serious. It was a serious discussion. A work discussion. Perhaps I was wrong, but I didn’t think either of those women was his new girlfriend.

  I wanted to know why he was here. I wanted to know everything about him, right now. I wished I had googled conferences in London, googled his company in Washington, found out who his clients might be, what might have brought him to London. Because I now knew he hadn’t come here to see me. It was simply convenient that I was here too, that he could leave this envelope for me. Civilised. The way it would be between us from now on.

  I opened the envelope.

  It wasn’t divorce papers. It had felt like a manuscript, because it was a manuscript. There were nearly one hundred pages, bound with two elastic bands, just like all the manuscripts I used to receive at work. I glanced at a page inside, at random. The lines were double-spaced, numbered at the bottom.

  There was no note attached. I checked inside the envelope again to be sure. It was empty. I took off the rubber bands and removed the top page. Underneath was a cover sheet, laid out like hundreds of other manuscripts I’d seen in my working life. The title. Author. Date. Word count. Contact details.

  US

  Aidan O’Hanlon

  February 2012

  50,000 words

  + 1 9123997899

  I thought at first the title was US – United States. Had Aidan written a
nonfiction book about his work in America? A novel about life in Washington? Was this why he’d got in touch? To ask me to edit his book? I looked at the title again. I was mistaken. It wasn’t US. The word was ‘us’.

  I turned to the first page. I began to read.

  Chapter Forty-four

  Dear Diary!

  Hi, it’s Jess!

  Someday someone will make a musical of my life and today’s happenings will be one of the BEST parts of it! Talk about action-packed! It’s like that famous story – when a butterfly flaps its wings in the forest, something else happens hundreds of kilometres away. And me cutting up Dad’s credit card was the butterfly flapping its wings and making all these other things happen and people getting all mixed up, but it’s okay now, it really is. In fact, it couldn’t be better!

  I’ve seen Charlie AND I MET LUCAS. At last! I asked him if I should call him Uncle Lucas and he said no, but only because nobody calls him Uncle Lucas, not even Ella, except when she’s teasing him. ‘I wish you were my real uncle too,’ I said. I just blurted it out but it’s the truth. I always have. I was always a bit jealous of Ella and her London uncle. I’d seen photos of him over the years but he looked better in real life, all kind of shaggy-haired and in a big jumper, between us a bit mad-looking but also really clever-looking. And he has the most wonderful voice. He sounds like Kenneth Branagh. Actually, he even sounds a bit like the captain in The Sound of Music, that nice deep voice (even though the captain is supposed to be Austrian but is actually played by a Canadian actor called Christopher Plummer).

  Anyway, I’d better go back to the start!! What happened was after I got Charlie’s email and emailed him back, I took all the change Ben had given me (he had heaps of it – he said people always give him handfuls of coins as tips when he delivers their room service) and I went down to the phone box (which stank. Seriously, it was disgusting). I rang Mum and Dad first, because I’d promised in my email that I would. And Mum started crying as soon as she heard my voice and kept saying she’d been so worried and was I okay, and Dad came on too and said the same things. He even sounded like he was crying.