by Isabel Wolff
‘You flatterer.’
‘And attractive ankles.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh yes.’
‘And of course my hair’s mad.’
‘It is. It’s absolutely barmy,’ he said, as he wound a tendril round his finger. ‘I think you’re lovely, Rose. I’ve always thought so. A bit crazy, but lovely.’ I gazed at his face. What a day.
‘What a day,’ I breathed. ‘I will never, ever forget this day. Four huge, and totally unexpected things have happened to me and it’s still only lunchtime.’ I shook my head.
‘Like what?’
‘Like…this,’ I replied softly. ‘And hearing about the ad.’ My heart turned over, and my mother’s imagined face loomed up before me.
‘What else has happened today?’
I sighed, then told him about the letter from Ed’s brother. His mouth went slack with shock.
‘Christ, how awful. So what did you do?’
‘I went to see Ed, in his office, and I told him he had to do it. And then I left him. For good. And that’s the other thing that’s happened to me today. I’ve finished with Ed.’
‘You’ve left him?’
‘Yes.’
He pulled me to him, even closer. ‘Good. No going back?’
‘No,’ I said emphatically. ‘No going back. It’s over.’
‘Because of what you found out about his brother.’
I nodded. ‘It made me feel sick. How could I stay with him now, Theo, knowing that? And he was so vicious to me as well.’
‘Was he?’
‘Yes. It was only because he was cornered, but he was vile.’
‘In what way?’
I cringed at the memory. ‘He said this awful thing.’
‘What?’
‘Well, he accused me of being an agony aunt for all the wrong reasons. He said I was doing it for myself. Out of egotism.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ I said irritably. ‘He did. Out. Rageous,’ I breathed, freshly incensed.
‘Well, aren’t you?’ said Theo quietly. I looked at the ceiling. There was a crack in it.
‘No,’ I replied firmly. ‘I’m not.’
‘Then why are you doing it?’
‘Because I know I can.’
‘I see.’
‘That’s the only reason, Theo.’
‘But you must enjoy it.’
‘Of course I do. I don’t deny that—because being an agony aunt is a bit like lighting a fire for a freezing man—you get back a little of that warmth yourself. And, yes, that’s a very nice feeling. But Ed said I really do it so that people will feel grateful to me and need me, and like me and admire me, because I feel so…inadequate.’
‘That’s what he said?’
I felt my lips purse. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, that wasn’t very nice of him.’
‘It certainly wasn’t.’
‘But maybe there’s a bit of truth in that.’
‘What?’
‘Maybe there’s a bit of truth there,’ he repeated.
‘Oh. Well, thanks very much. How typically tactful of you, Theo. So you think my career’s just a crutch, do you?’
‘No. Not entirely,’ he replied. ‘But the fact is that for twenty years you’ve been carrying around this huge psychological burden which you’ve only just begun to address…’
‘Well, yes. I have had that…issue,’ I conceded. I suddenly visualised myself as one of those ants carrying a load four times its own size.
‘And I just wonder whether you would have wanted to be an agony aunt if you hadn’t felt so troubled yourself?’
I looked at him. Would I? ‘Yes. Yes, I would.’
‘Are you sure, Rose?’ he asked quietly. Cheek!
‘Look, I hope you’re not on Ed’s side,’ I said indignantly, sitting up. ‘Because what he said was so vicious and mean-spirited.’
‘Don’t be silly, Rose. It’s not like that. I’m just saying that from what I’ve learned about you—wonderful though you are—I think you probably are an agony aunt as much for yourself as for your readers. Maybe Ed’s got a point there.’
‘Well thank you!’ I exclaimed as I reached for my shirt. ‘It’s nice to know you share his high opinion of me.’
‘I do have a high opinion of you.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘’Course I do. But all I’m saying is, well, why not be honest about the fact that your motives are maybe, a bit mixed?’
‘Because I’m not going to admit to being some emotional cripple who needs to prop herself up with the problems of others.’ How could I admit to that? I mean, Christ!—it would make me no better than Citronella Pratt! ‘I am an agony aunt,’ I said, as I stood up. ‘Because I want to help people, that’s all.’
‘Rose, I don’t doubt that, but the question is why.’
‘Why?’ I said staring at him.
‘Yes. Why do you want to help people?’
‘Because…I’m good at it, that’s why. And because I know I can make a real difference to their lives. I have saved marriages,’ I said. I thought of the itchy-fingered arsonist. ‘And perhaps even lives. I’ve been able to, well, yes, to rescue my readers from their problems. They depend on me.’
‘I’m sorry, Rose, I don’t think that’s true. I think you probably depend on them to quite an extent.’
‘Oh, well, thanks, Theo—that’s great!’
‘Look, it’s nothing to feel bad about. We all have deep seated motives for doing what we do. All I’m saying is there’s no shame in acknowledging it, that’s all.’
‘I see. So you think I should go round telling everyone that the reason I’m an agony aunt is because I’m such a pathetic inadequate—is that it?’
‘No, I’m not saying that.’
‘I do it out of altruism.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course I do! Because why the hell would anyone spend all day thinking about other people’s ghastly, boring, sordid, and quite often, pathetic, problems if they didn’t have to?’
‘That’s exactly my point. Why would anyone? Unless they enjoyed feeling needed. And I think that you do.’
‘I don’t!’
‘You do, Rose. And it’s nice to feel needed. There’s nothing wrong with that. And after all, you must feel that your mother didn’t need you…’
‘No,’ I said bitterly. ‘She didn’t! She didn’t need me. She didn’t need me at all—so she threw me away!’
‘So maybe feeling that you’re needed by your readers makes you feel better about that. And it’s quite understandable.’
‘Well thanks very much. Look, why don’t you just stop getting at me?’ I snapped as I zipped up my skirt. ‘I’ve had quite enough.’
‘I’m not getting at you, Rose,’ he said as he stood up. ‘I think you’re grand. I’m just saying that you should wise up to yourself a bit more. I mean, come on—you’re nearly forty. Don’t you know yourself yet?’
‘Yes, I do know myself actually! I’m very self-aware.’
‘I’m not sure that you are. I mean, there are things you miss, Rose. Big things. Important things.’
‘Oh I see,’ I said my pulse racing. ‘So not only am I an agony aunt for the wrong reason, I’m not even very good at it. In fact I’m pretty crap at it according to you.’
‘No, you’re not. But I’m not sure that you’re a natural agony aunt, in the way that, well, Bev is for example.’
‘Bev?’ I felt as though I’d been slapped.
‘Yes. She’s really astute. She doesn’t miss anything. Maybe because her disability has made her such an acute observer. She’s a natural agony aunt.’
‘Oh well, thanks very much,’ I said as I put on my shirt. ‘This is really great. So not only am I a crap agony aunt, doing it under false pretences, to make myself feel better about my mum dumping me forty years ago, I compare unfavourably to Bev—is that it?’
‘No, I didn’t mean it like that.’
/> ‘Well if Beverley’s so wonderful why don’t you go out with her then?’ I muttered as I buttoned my shirt. ‘I always thought you liked her. I was convinced for months that you did. Poppet!’ I spat.
‘Yes, I did like Beverley. I do like her. I like her a lot—but not in that way.’
‘And she obviously likes you—“Sweetie!” Well, after what you’ve just said to me, she can bloody well help herself!’
‘Rose, I can assure you that Beverley has no romantic interest in me whatsoever and never has had.’
‘Look,’ I said as I pulled on my shoes. ‘Let’s just forget about this. You make love to me, and then you lay into me and totally undermine me and do your best to make me feel bad. I know you’re a blunt Yorkshireman and all that, but I just don’t get it.’
‘I’m not “laying into you”, Rose. I think you’re a wonderful person.’
‘So why are you being so nasty to me then?’
‘I’m not.’
‘Yes you bloody well are! You’re being rude and nasty—downright offensive—and I don’t think it’s on. I’ve had enough of it today, what with Ed being so vile—so I’m not taking it from you as well. So why don’t you just…fuck OFF!’ He flinched. I’d shocked him. ‘Just fuck right off!’ I repeated.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said icily. ‘I will. You’re right, Rose. This was a mistake.’ We stared at each other, my heart was pounding so hard I’d thought he’d hear it. Suddenly from somewhere I heard If you’d like to swing on a star, carry moonbeams home in a jar… Theo groped for his mobile in his shirt pocket.
‘Hello? Yes, it is. Oh hello. Have I? Oh. Well that’s grand. I thought it would be tomorrow. Well, as it happens, that suits me down to the ground. Yes. I’m on my way now.’
‘Where are you going?’ I demanded as he pulled on his boxer shorts.
‘To the estate agents. That was my solicitor to say I’ve just completed on the flat—a day early, as it happens—so I’m going to collect the keys.’
‘Are you coming back here afterwards?’
He stepped into his jeans and then pulled on his shirt. ‘No. I’m not. I’ll go straight to the flat. I was going to leave tomorrow, but as my stuff’s all packed I might as well leave today. Not least because I now know what an impossible bloody woman you are. Let’s forget this, Rose,’ he said, as he pocketed his phone. ‘I wouldn’t touch you with a bargepole. You’re a mess.’
‘Yes,’ I shouted as he walked out of the room. ‘Let’s! Let’s forget it and you can just—get lost! You pretend to care about me,’ I added as he ran upstairs to his room, ‘but you’ve really hurt me.’
‘I haven’t hurt you,’ he said as he reappeared with his duvet. ‘I’ve just tried to get you to be a bit more honest, that’s all.’
‘But it’s none of your business whether I’m honest or not!’
‘No,’ he conceded. ‘That’s true. You’re quite right, Rose. It’s got nothing to do with me. Anyway, I’d better get going, I’ve got loads to do.’
‘Yes you’d better,’ I yelled as he ran downstairs. ‘You’ve loved me so now you’ll leave me! Won’t you? Won’t you?’
‘Goodbye, Rose.’
‘Yes goodbye! Goodbye and good bloody riddance you bastard! You can just fuck off! You can just fuck RIGHT off and NEVER come back.’
I heard him moving his boxes out of the hall, and putting them in the back of the car. Then he slammed the front door, and I heard the squeak of the gate, and I was wondering whether to run after him when my mobile phone rang. It was Bev.
‘Rose, aren’t you coming in?’ she said anxiously. Oh shit. I looked at my watch. It was four.
‘Oh, God…I don’t think I can, I feel so awful.’
‘But I’m snowed under here. I need you,’ she added.
‘I’m sorry, Bev, but I’ve had a hell of a day and it’s getting worse.’
‘Look, Rose,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what’s going on with you at the moment, but I just don’t feel your mind’s on the job.’
‘No it isn’t,’ I agreed. ‘I’ve got far too many things going on in my life at the moment to be able to care about anyone else.’
‘Do you want to talk about it sometime? Maybe I can help.’
‘No, thanks, Bev, I don’t. I just want to lie on my bed and go to sleep and never wake up. And Theo’s just left, and we quarrelled but the point is, he’s the one.’
‘He’s the what?’
‘He’s the one. Theo Sheen. He’s the one.’ Suddenly I heard the ring of the doorbell. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’ I ran to the door and threw it open, hoping to see Theo standing there, his arms held wide, an apologetic expression on his face. But it wasn’t Theo at all.
‘Good afternoon, Madam.’ It was them. They were back again.
‘Have you heard the Good News?’ I stared at them. ‘Have you heard the Good News?’ they repeated politely as they held out a copy of The Watchtower.
‘No,’ I said sharply. ‘I haven’t. I haven’t heard the good news. I’ve heard nothing but bad news. I’m so depressed—will you come in?’ They stepped inside and followed me into the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ I asked. As I put on the kettle I glanced at the yawning bookshelf and felt a sharp pain in my chest, as though someone was trying to saw through my sternum. ‘You see, he’s the one,’ I explained miserably. ‘I didn’t realise it until now. But he is.’
‘Yes, Madam, He is the one. The one and only.’
‘I know. And it’s taken me all this time to see.’
‘Don’t worry, for He will forgive you.’
I laughed darkly. ‘I don’t think so—he was terribly cross. You see, I really offended him, but I like him so much and I just want him back in my life.’
‘Then pray, Madam. That’s all you have to do. Pray, and He will come into your life.’
‘I do feel like praying,’ I said as I felt my eyes fill again. ‘I’ve never had much truck with religion frankly, but when I’m desperate, yes, I pray.’ I grabbed a bit of kitchen towel and pressed it into my eyes.
‘Don’t worry,’ said the woman. ‘He is all loving.’
‘Yes,’ I said as I got down the teapot, ‘he is. He’s very decent and loving, and the thing is, he’s the one. I’ve only just worked it out, today. And you see the reason I know he’s the one is because I told him.’
‘You told him He’s the one?’
‘No, I didn’t tell him that. I told him about my mother, and that’s why he’s the one, because I chose to tell him, and nobody else. You see, I told him this enormously significant thing about my past.’
‘You can tell Him anything. He hears what you say.’
‘Yes,’ I said as I got down the mugs. ‘He does hear, or rather he did. But if only I’d realised before.’
‘Sometimes is takes people a long time to come to God,’ said the man gently.
‘No, not God. Theo.’
‘Yes, Theo. Theo means God. You can call him Theo, God, Jehovah—whatever you want. We know what you mean—and He knows too.’
‘No, Theo—my flatmate—he’s the one.’ They shifted slightly uncomfortably on their seats. ‘And I’ve hurt him.’
‘But He will forgive you.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yes. He will forgive you,’ said the man soothingly. ‘Because He is your friend.’
‘Yes, he is. He is my friend,’ I said. ‘That’s exactly what he’s been. Is P.G. Tips okay?’
‘You just have to trust in Him,’ they said.
‘And I do,’ I replied as I got out the milk. ‘I know I can trust him. But you see today we went to bed together for the first time, and I’d just broken up with my husband who I’d been temporarily reconciled with, but with whom I’ve now definitely broken up because I discovered that he’d refused to donate bone marrow to his younger brother who’s very ill with leukaemia—I know, absolutely awful, I could hardly believe it myself—and then I came home because Theo had an import
ant letter for me—about my mother actually, who I’ve never met—and then I was feeling rather upset about everything and Theo put his arm round me and then I kissed him and the next thing I knew, we were in bed! But then it all went horribly wrong because he accused me of being an agony aunt for the wrong reasons in order to make myself feel better about the fact that my mother didn’t want me—which she clearly didn’t otherwise she wouldn’t have abandoned me in a supermarket trolley when I was a baby—and you see, I’d just broken up with Ed—that’s my husband—who I finally dumped this morning after nearly being reconciled with him, and I said,“no, Theo, it’s not true. I’m an agony aunt because I do genuinely like helping people,” but he basically said I was fooling myself. So I shouted at him and he stormed off to the estate agents to collect the keys to his new flat because he’s moving out today: and you see that’s what makes it all so awful—the fact that I didn’t know how he felt about me. Or rather I didn’t see: I didn’t read between the lines: because he told me today that he’d liked me for months, but I hadn’t realised it because I was blind; and then we quarrelled viciously and I told him to eff off; it’s all just a horrible mess and now he’s gone and I’m going to be here all on my own. I’m going to be here all on my own, without him and I can’t stand it, and I don’t know what to do!’ They stood up. ‘Oh God I’ve got so many problems,’ I wailed.
‘Problems! Problems!’ shouted Rudy.
‘I’m having the most extraordinary day. I just needed someone to talk to. Would you like a biscuit?’
‘No thank you, Madam. We have to go.’
‘But you haven’t been here that long.’
‘Well,’ they said, shifting slightly from foot to foot, ‘we have other calls to make.’
‘Have another cup of tea then?’
‘No, really.’
‘Or some cake? I’m sure I’ve got a Battenburg somewhere.’
‘Thank you—no. God bless you, Madam, and don’t worry. Jehovah loves you. Goodbye.’
‘Will you call again?’ I said as they opened the front door. ‘Please. Please will you come again? Come again soon won’t you!’ I called after them as they went down the garden path. But they’d opened the gate, and had gone.
I looked at the clock—it was half past five. No time to go to work now. I went upstairs to Theo’s room, and, heart pounding, I opened the door. The cupboard door was ajar, the wire hangers clinking gently against each other in the slight breeze. The mantelpiece was empty, the outline of his mother’s photograph clear in the dust. His telescope was no longer by the window, the stuff on his desk had been cleared. And now I remembered his diary, and the time when I’d shut his window during the storm. His writing was so hard to read, but now some of it came back. Rose is very…ctive—that must have been attractive—not active—I now saw—but I something her something a b…pole. Touch her with a bargepole. That’s what he’d shouted at me just now. I stared at his bed. The mattress was stripped. I lay down on it and put my head on his slipless pillow, and closed my eyes. I imagined him lying here night after night, while I was lying on my bed, beneath. I slipped my hand underneath and felt something—an old tee shirt. I pressed it to my face.