A Year and a Day

by Isabelle Broom

  Sophie looked nonplussed as she handed Megan the brush back. ‘It’s only hair, right? It’ll grow back eventually.’

  ‘What did your boyfriend – sorry, fiancé – say when you did it?’ Megan asked, pulling her hair back into a ponytail and aggressively brushing the ends.

  Sophie paused for a moment, not quite meeting Megan’s eyes in the mirror as she replied.

  ‘He cried,’ she said, then immediately started laughing.

  They both jumped as a phone started ringing, and Sophie snatched hers out of her coat pocket.

  ‘I’d better take this,’ she said, and Megan saw the photo of the good-looking, smiley blond guy that had flashed up earlier at the hotel.

  She nodded, watching as Sophie scurried back out of the toilet, letting the wooden door bang shut behind her. The girl was clearly besotted, and Megan sighed as she continued to detangle her hair. Why was it that other people found it so easy to be in a relationship? Why had she been unfortunate enough to end up with a shit like Andre when there were nice men like Sophie’s Robin in the world? And why couldn’t she move past what had happened?

  The sink was filling up with broken strands of hair now, and Megan scooped them all up and tossed them into the bin. The truth was, she knew the answer to all of those questions. She was who she was, after all, and being Megan Spencer came with certain limitations. She would have time for all that love nonsense one day, she told herself. It just wasn’t the right time for her at the moment.

  ‘What have you done with Sophie?’ Ollie asked as she joined them at the table a few minutes later. He’d taken the liberty of ordering her a hot wine, and she sipped it gratefully.

  ‘She’s on the phone – her fiancé,’ she told him, pointing vaguely in the direction of outside.

  ‘Aww.’ Hope grinned. ‘Young love, eh?’

  ‘Not so different from old love, really,’ said Charlie, putting his hand over hers. Megan stared resolutely at the menu.

  The café was small and cosy, with a curved ceiling that made the place feel almost like a cave. There were mirrors on nearly every wall, and a number of ancient-looking musical instruments had been hung up in the corners. The tables were all wooden, and there were cushions of all shapes and sizes scattered across the chairs and bench seats. Megan picked one up now and hugged it against herself, her fingers playing absent-mindedly with a loose thread that was dangling out from the zip.

  In the far corner, tucked away almost out of sight, she could see a piano, and beyond that more tables, each with a candle in the centre.

  It was warm in the café, and felt immediately comforting and homely – not least because the waitress, who was now standing at their table to take their food order, was so utterly enchanting. She loved that about this city, how friendly and welcoming the people were. It made you feel more like a treasured guest than a tourist, and Megan was reminded guiltily of all the times she’d barged past bewildered travellers in London, tutting at them when they stopped dead in the middle of the pavement and refusing to stop and help when they needed directions. She really must try harder to be a better person when she got home.

  Ollie’s glasses had steamed up as usual, and he was now cleaning them with a napkin while he and Hope discussed what they were going to order.

  ‘I’m becoming obsessed with apple strudel,’ he told her, finding it on the menu and giving the air a small fist-pump. ‘I might just order three of those and not bother with dinner.’

  ‘I wish I could do the same,’ Hope said. ‘But if I put away puddings like that then none of my clothes would fit any more. You’re very lucky, being so tall and slim like you are. I bet you can eat whatever you want.’

  ‘He does,’ Megan interrupted. ‘You should see what he puts away. It’s so annoying; I can’t even sniff a plate of chips without gaining half a stone.’

  ‘I think you ladies are crazy,’ Ollie told them. ‘You both look perfect to me. And what’s the point in life if you don’t allow yourself a little indulgence now and again?’

  ‘That’s what I’m always telling her,’ put in Charlie. ‘But you know what women are like.’

  ‘Oh, careful.’ Ollie glanced sideways at Megan, his expression mock-fearful. ‘This one will put her feminist hat on and give you a telling-off soon.’

  Megan glared at him and forced out a bitter laugh. ‘He’s right,’ she told Charlie, taking another sip of her wine. ‘I will.’

  Charlie held up his hands in surrender.

  ‘I’m all for equal rights,’ he assured her. ‘But I do like to treat a lady, you know? Hold open the door, pick up the bill – that sort of thing. I don’t think being a gentleman should be discouraged. It’s a nice gesture, that’s all, not a threat to womankind.’

  Megan could hear Ollie giggling as she gritted her teeth.

  ‘Of course those sort of things are nice gestures,’ she agreed. ‘And believe me, I’m all for being spoilt every now and again – just as long as the man in question doesn’t treat me like a helpless little fawn that needs looking after at all times. That I couldn’t bear.’

  ‘We’ve been friends for over six months now and she doesn’t let me do anything to help,’ Ollie told them, laughing at the expression of fury on Megan’s face. ‘Oh, come on – it’s true! You wouldn’t let me help you put those shelves up in your kitchen, because you were too proud, and now they’re so wonky that you lose at least three mugs a week.’

  ‘It’s my flat, not my DIY skills,’ she cried. ‘The whole building is wonky. I swear it’s going to vanish into a sinkhole one day, and then I’ll lose more than a few mugs.’

  ‘I actually believe there are just certain things that men are better at than women, and vice versa,’ Hope said, smiling an apology at the waitress for the third time. They were still waiting for Sophie to come back inside so they could order food.

  ‘Like what?’ Ollie asked, earning himself another stern glare from Megan. He knew this line of conversation was going to wind her up, and he was encouraging Hope on purpose.

  ‘Well, you know, stuff like mending the washing machine, or changing the tyre on a car.’

  Megan rolled her eyes.

  ‘But you could do both those things perfectly well if you wanted to,’ she argued, being careful to keep her tone light. ‘I don’t think we should roll over and accept we can’t do things, just because a man is more willing to try.’

  Hope opened her mouth to reply, then shut it again. She looked downcast all of a sudden, and Megan felt horrible.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, her voice small. ‘I didn’t mean to insult you, I just—’

  ‘You’re right,’ Hope interrupted, glancing at Charlie before continuing. ‘I was married to a man who did everything for me. Well, when I say everything, I mean the more traditional male jobs, you know, such as dealing with the household bills, taxing the car and mowing the lawn. I took care of all the cleaning and cooking and washing. I guess I never really thought anything of it. My mother had done the same thing with my father and us kids, and I never had any real reason to question it.’

  ‘That makes sense.’ Megan smiled at her.

  ‘And there’s nothing wrong with it either,’ Ollie added defiantly. ‘I think people should do what makes them happy, and screw what society thinks.’

  ‘What about ironing?’ Charlie asked. ‘No one should be made to do that, male or female.’

  ‘Very true,’ Ollie laughed.

  Megan was about to agree, when they were all assailed by an icy draught and Sophie rejoined them at the table.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, picking up a menu as she sat down on the bench seat next to Hope.

  ‘Was that Mr Wonderful?’ Hope guessed, smiling at her with a genuine warmth.

  Sophie nodded, glancing again at the menu before putting it down.

  ‘You shouldn’t have waited to order,’ she told them.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Charlie assured her. ‘We’re not in any hurry, are we? Now, who wants to share some wi
ne?’

  As soon as their glasses were full, Hope asked Ollie about his job as a teacher.

  ‘I found it noisy just having one child in the house,’ she admitted, her face wistful as she described her now-twenty-five-year-old daughter as a toddler. Apparently, Annette had been a big fan of putting things in her mouth that she really shouldn’t. Ollie laughed as Hope told them about a particular occasion when she’d taken off her engagement and wedding rings to do the washing up, only to find that Annette had swallowed them when her back was turned.

  ‘I was too relieved that she hadn’t choked to be cross at the time,’ she told them. ‘But those rings never were quite the same after I got them back.’

  ‘There’s a little boy called Bertie in my class who loves eating mud,’ Ollie said. ‘I call him Dirty Bertie – but not out loud, of course. The rest of the children play nice games together or kick a ball around, but Bertie just sits cross-legged in the flower bed scooping up handfuls of soil and posting them into his mouth like biscuit crumbs.’

  ‘I ate a snail once,’ piped up Sophie, taking a sip of her wine as they all turned to look at her. Her eyes were so huge, Megan thought, feeling her hands tingle with the idea of taking her photo. Usually she would just ask her to sit for a few portraits, but for some reason she had an inkling that Sophie wouldn’t be keen. She fidgeted almost constantly, and kept glancing to her right as if someone were standing next to her, even though they weren’t.

  ‘In my first year as a teacher, there was a little girl in my class called Molly who had an imaginary pet alligator,’ Ollie was now telling them. ‘She would crawl under the table and bite the ankles of the other kids, then blame it on Snappy.’

  ‘I like the sound of her.’ Megan grinned, reaching for the open bottle of wine and topping up each of their glasses in turn. Hope was making quick work of hers, she noticed, but Sophie had barely drunk a thing.

  ‘She even did it to me once,’ Ollie continued. ‘It bloody hurt, I can tell you. I was hopping around the room saying every non-swearword under the sun.’

  Hope’s face had turned pink as she laughed, and Megan watched Charlie gazing at her. Sophie clearly wasn’t the only besotted person sitting at the table. She sneaked a look at Ollie as he reeled off another story. The candle on the table was reflected in his glasses and his dark brown hair was sticking out just above each of his ears. The temptation to reach over and tuck it away into a tidier position was a tough one to quell, and Megan only just managed to resist. As she looked back down at her bread, she caught Hope staring at her.

  ‘Do you get all the mums at the school flirting with you?’ Hope asked Ollie now, glancing briefly at him and then back at Megan.

  He shook his head. ‘No. I keep waiting for that to happen, but it never does. I think it’s just a myth they tell people to make them agree to be teachers.’

  ‘I used to have the biggest crush on Annette’s history teacher,’ Hope went on, earning herself a look of surprise from Charlie.

  ‘He was called Mr Johnson and he had a big ginger beard, but there was just something about him.’

  ‘Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong,’ mused Ollie, stroking his clean-shaven jaw with a frown. ‘Clearly the caveman look is the way forward.’

  ‘Surely you’re not really allowed to date the mothers of your pupils, though?’ Megan asked, her tone more accusatory than she’d meant it to be.

  Ollie paused with a chunk of buttered bread halfway to his mouth.

  ‘I’ve never been told it’s against the rules.’

  ‘It would be too weird for the kid in question,’ she went on. ‘Imagine your mum having a fling with your teacher – you’d never live it down.’

  Hope had gone a rather unflattering shade of maroon, and Megan got the sense she’d hit on something inadvertently. Her and her huge gob.

  Ollie’s mouth was too full for him to reply, but he looked as if he wanted to laugh.

  ‘Have you two never …?’ Charlie suddenly asked.

  Now it was Megan’s turn to resemble a tomato.

  Sophie emitted a small cough of embarrassed pity, but Charlie was still looking at Megan and Ollie in turn, waiting for an answer to what he must assume was a totally innocent question.

  Ollie got there first.

  ‘Megan’s a beard fan, too,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m not her type.’

  ‘You seem to get on well,’ Charlie went on, looking to Hope for confirmation. There was a beat of silence as Hope shook her head just a fraction, and Megan wondered seriously about slipping under the table and setting her own version of Snappy loose on the lot of them.

  ‘We do,’ said Ollie eventually, after it became clear that Megan wasn’t going to reply. ‘But we don’t see each other as anything other than friends.’

  For some inexplicable reason, Megan felt tears prickling in her eyes. She was used to being the one who scrutinised people, not the other way around. Ollie was doing his best to laugh the whole thing off now, but she couldn’t help but feel hurt by the casual way he’d just dismissed her – dismissed them. What the hell was wrong with her?

  The next time she braved a glance across the table, she caught Hope’s eye and saw the older woman mouth the word ‘sorry’. It was only a matter of time before the subject of her and Ollie came up again, she realised. Hope would have questions for her the next time the men were out of earshot, of that much she was pretty certain, but Megan didn’t have any answers for her. She wondered what Sophie was thinking, and whether she had an opinion on the matter, but when she tried to get her attention with a silent gaze, she found that the other girl was staring off in the opposite direction, her eyes wide and her small mouth open, as if marooned halfway through a memory.

  She felt rather than saw Ollie shift in his seat, the wood creaking beneath his weight, and knew that he was looking at her. This time, however, she managed to fight the urge to lift her eyes up to where she knew his would be waiting.

  23

  There was an uneasy atmosphere at the table, and Hope was relieved when the food arrived and they all had an excuse to stop talking.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about what Megan had said, about women being able to do whatever they wanted, regardless of whether or not it was a ‘man’s job’. She knew it was true, of course. The reason she’d signed up for driving lessons in the first place was to gain a bit more independence. In the past, she’d always had to rely on Dave driving her over to the supermarket to do the big shop at the weekend, and increasingly he’d been reluctant to move from his chair in front of the TV. Rather than turn into a nag, as so often occurred, she decided to take matters into her own hands. And then, of course, she’d met Charlie.

  Hope had always been content to take care of the house. After all, Dave was the one going out to work, and she enjoyed being there when Annette came home from school. She could have gone out and got herself a job at any time, really, but she was afraid. Hope knew how to be a mother and a wife, but when it came to working out in the real world, she didn’t have the first clue.

  She watched Megan now across the table; the younger woman seemed so strong and self-assured, with her highlighted hair and her eyeliner drawn on in those trendy little flicks. She and Ollie were obviously close. He was watching her now out of the corner of his eye, Hope noticed. In fact, thinking about it, he barely seemed to take his eyes off her.

  The goulash she’d ordered was delicious, with tender chunks of beef that melted in her mouth, sweet red onion and a rich, warming gravy, which she was busy soaking up with her beautifully moist bacon dumplings. Megan had ordered the same as her, but the boys had opted for the pork shoulder, which came with a generous helping of sauerkraut and mashed salted potatoes. Sophie, by comparison, had chosen a beef broth, which was rather adorably served inside a bread bowl. It smelled heavenly, but Hope could tell that she was only pretending to eat it.

  ‘Are you okay, love?’ she whispered, as Sophie brought a full spoon up to her mouth, then lowered i
t back down again.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Sophie gave her a half-smile.

  She clearly didn’t want to elaborate, so Hope merely gave her arm a light squeeze before turning her attention back to the rest of the group.

  ‘We went to the Charles Bridge today,’ she announced.

  ‘Me, too,’ Megan replied, nodding her head with enthusiasm. ‘I went there first thing this morning to take photos.’

  ‘Is photography what you do, then?’ Charlie enquired.

  ‘It’s what I’m trying to do,’ Megan admitted, pushing her fork into a lump of meat and scooping it into her mouth with some onion.

  ‘What she isn’t telling you is that she’s brilliant,’ Ollie added. ‘Honestly – if I was rich enough then I’d pay her to quit her job and just take photos all day long.’

  ‘That’s so sweet.’ Hope clasped her hands together.

  ‘I would never let him,’ Megan was quick to put in. ‘And anyway, my job isn’t all that bad. I work in a gallery,’ she added.

  ‘That must be fun?’

  Megan merely nodded. ‘It’s okay. Some of the customers are awful, but we don’t get that many of them, so it could be worse.’

  ‘I get some right sorts booking driving lessons with me,’ Charlie told them. ‘This one lady was really superstitious, and every time I picked her up she had to open and close all the car doors three times before she’d even get in. Apparently if she didn’t, we’d be certain to crash.’

  ‘Sounds exhausting,’ said Megan.

  ‘It was,’ Charlie agreed. ‘But she was very nice. Never made it through the test, though. I think she gave up after the thirteenth attempt, which must be some sort of record.’

  ‘I haven’t got a licence,’ Sophie admitted, causing them all to turn to her. ‘I mean, I can drive – my dad taught me on the farm when I was about twelve, but I’ve never bothered making it official.’

  ‘Same here,’ Megan said. ‘My parents offered to pay for lessons when I was seventeen, but I wanted a camera instead. And anyway, I live in London now – you don’t really need a car in London.’