My Second Life

by Faye Bird

  tuesday

  20

  RACHEL BROUGHT ME A cup of tea in bed the next morning.

  I woke slowly. The first thing I thought of was Mum. I hadn’t called her. I’d said I’d call her back, and I hadn’t. I wanted to call her. I needed to. But after I’d seen Frances, after remembering what I’d seen, I didn’t feel like I could call. Not just yet. I didn’t know what I would say to her about me, about her, about any of it.

  “It’s almost seven. I left you as long as I could, but I need to go in early today.”

  “Okay,” I said, turning in the bed to face her, slowly opening my eyes.

  “Did you sleep better last night?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  I’d been awake most of the night thinking about Frances, thinking about Dad, and most of all thinking about Mum and whether she had known what was going on.

  “Kind of,” I said.

  “So are we still going to do something this afternoon?”

  I’d actually completely forgotten that I’d suggested it, but I pretended I hadn’t. I nodded.

  “I was thinking it’d be nice to go into Richmond,” she said. “We can have a burger in that diner you like.”

  “Sure,” I said, stretching my legs so that they stuck out from under the duvet.

  “Great. I’ll put some toast on for you before I go.” And she stood up and went downstairs.

  * * *

  We met after school and walked over the bridge into Richmond. It was a gorgeous day, and as we walked together I stopped to take it all in. There was a heron standing high on a willow, and boats gently rocking in the water by the boat sheds. It was so peaceful. Rachel came and stood next to me.

  “David always loved it here,” she said.

  I looked at her. “David—my dad?” I couldn’t believe she’d mentioned David. She never normally did.

  “Yes. I always think of him when I walk over this bridge,” she said.

  “You’ve never told me that before.”

  “Haven’t I?”

  “So what happened? With you and David, I mean?”

  “I’ve told you before,” she started to say. “I’m sure—”

  “That was ages ago.”

  “We were together, I got pregnant, he couldn’t handle it and he left,” Rachel said.

  “How long were you together, before I came along?”

  “Four years,” she said.

  “Did you love him?”

  “Yes, I did,” she said, more quietly now. “We loved each other very much.”

  She’d never said that before. It was reassuring to hear her say it, to know that they had loved each other once, in the beginning. That was something at least.

  “What was he like?” I asked.

  “God, now there’s a question! I’m not sure I can remember,” she said.

  I hated it when she did that. Dismissed stuff. But then I wondered whether maybe you wouldn’t remember what someone was like fifteen years ago. Maybe the way Rachel remembered David wasn’t that different to the way I remembered being Emma. Perhaps when it comes down to it, we all only know each other as much as this.

  “Would you try and remember?” I said, and Rachel looked at me. I could tell she didn’t really want to remember but I knew she was going to try. For me.

  “Okay … Well … he was grumpy in the mornings. And he was funny. We did laugh, a lot. I remember that.”

  “Except in the mornings…,” I said.

  “Yes!” she said, smiling. “Except in the mornings.” She paused. “He was generous. He’d always be the first to buy a round in the pub, even if he was broke. Which he often was.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He was a sound engineer. Spent all day in a music studio. No light. I think that brought him down a bit.”

  “What, he didn’t like it?”

  “No, he liked it. I’m just not sure it was that good for him. He’d get low. Sad. Kind of depressed. But, what do I know? He left me for the twenty-one-year-old receptionist in the end,” she said, and all the softness went out of her voice.

  I’d always known he’d found someone else, that he’d left Rachel seven months pregnant with me, but still, when she said it like that it struck a blow. For me. For Rachel. That was our loss.

  Rachel put her arm through mine. “But do you know how happy I was when you were born?” she said. I remembered, this was always her way to repair the damage of this story.

  I smiled and shook my head. I liked to hear her say it, despite everything.

  “I was the happiest woman alive in the world ever, ever, ever!” she said, and she squeezed me. And for a moment I almost felt like I could have hugged her—really hugged her—but I didn’t. I squeezed her arm back, quickly, gently, and I smiled. And I hoped that, for her, it was enough.

  My phone rang.

  It was Jamie.

  Rachel scooped her arm out from within mine. “You take that,” she said, and walked on a couple of steps ahead.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi.”

  I thought about the last time I’d seen him—and how it had been.

  “I just wanted to see how you are. What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m out. With Rachel. We’re in Richmond.”

  “Nice,” he said. “Or is it?”

  “It’s okay,” I said, smiling. “What’re you up to?”

  “Not much,” he said. “Just thinking about when I’m going to see you … just you.”

  My stomach rolled, and like a curling wave along an endless shore, it just kept rolling.

  “Well, how about tomorrow?” I said. “After school?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Great.”

  And he rang off, and as I put the phone in my pocket I felt a rushing, a glowing.

  “That was Jamie,” I said, catching Rachel up.

  “I guessed,” she said.

  “I’m going to meet him, tomorrow, after school.”

  “All right. But I don’t want you back late. Not like last night.”

  “Okay,” I said. Rachel hadn’t said anything about me running out when she got in last night, and I was doing my best to avoid having to talk about it.

  “I know I’ve said this before, but I want you to know you can always talk to me, if you need to. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said, and I started to walk on.

  “I worry that there’s stuff going on with you that you’re not telling me. I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”

  “I’m fine, Rachel,” I said. “Honestly. Let’s not talk about this now.”

  “Well, I would have talked to you about it last night, but you ran out.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I don’t know where you went, and today you look so tired.” She paused and looked at me, waiting for an answer.

  I didn’t say anything.

  “You’re still not sleeping, are you?”

  “It’s okay,” I said. I didn’t want her to fuss over me. I hadn’t slept for a week now, but still I didn’t want her to make a fuss.

  We carried on walking.

  “Grillie tells me you go and see Frances Wells, at her home. Is that right?” Rachel said.

  “How does Grillie know that?” I said, pulling my arm out from hers, stopping and turning to face her.

  “Because she and Frances saw each other over the weekend. They played bridge.”

  “I didn’t know that!” I said.

  The thought that Frances had seen Grillie—that she might have told Grillie about me—it terrified me.

  “I should have known that. Somebody should have told me!” I said.

  “What do you mean somebody should have told you?”

  I wanted to run away. I couldn’t run away. I knew that. I had to stay and speak to Rachel, or it would all look too weird.

  Rachel went on. “Grillie said you didn’t go over and see her last week—”

  “So?” I interrupt
ed.

  “She’s upset, Ana! She likes seeing you. She’s just out of hospital for God’s sake!”

  I took a step back, away from Rachel, to try and break the conversation. To try and get some space in my head. I was frightened.

  “Ana, what’s going on? This mood, this change in you, it’s not like you at all.”

  “Well, so what if I go and visit Frances? What does it matter to you or to Grillie? It’s none of your business what I do!”

  “I think it’s lovely that you go. Honestly. I do. I’m just trying to work out what’s changed—”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, with you not sleeping, and walking out of school—and it’s all so unlike you, Ana, and it’s all happened in the past week or so. And now, not visiting Grillie … Something’s wrong. I know it is. I know you, Ana.”

  I looked at her and I felt my eyes fill up with tears.

  She didn’t know me.

  She didn’t know me at all.

  “If it’s something I’ve done,” she said, “I mean, I know it’s not the best situation—me not being with David…”

  I took in a deep breath to steady myself. I hated seeing her upset like this. I missed Mum. I wanted my dad. Not David. But I couldn’t tell her that. I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t explain.

  And suddenly I felt trapped. I just wanted to get away, because she couldn’t know what I was thinking or what I was feeling. She couldn’t know about any of it.

  My pulse started throbbing, my mind wrestling with itself, trying to find the right words to make it better.

  I had to leave, to get on the roof, to the space on the roof.

  I looked up.

  Rachel was crying now.

  She was standing in the street crying, and people were looking at us.

  “You’re a great mum … really, you are,” I said. And I meant it, because she was.

  “Do you think you might ever call me ‘Mum’?” Rachel said, looking up at me now.

  “No—” I said it quickly, without thinking. Too quickly. “I don’t know…”

  Rachel got a tissue out of her bag and wiped her face with it.

  We stood still, together, for a moment.

  “Shall we go? Get something to eat now?” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

  And even though I didn’t feel like I could eat a thing, I said yes, and I went and I ate. For her. For Rachel.

  21

  WHEN WE GOT HOME I went straight up to my room and put my music on loud. Rachel was on the phone to Grillie. I didn’t want to hear their conversation. Now that I knew Grillie and Frances were definitely in contact, it made me feel on edge when Grillie called. I just wanted to get away. To be on my own.

  I kicked off my shoes and I opened the window wide. And as I maneuvered my way from the bedroom and up onto the roof I let go of the bathroom window ledge with one of my hands.

  It was just for a few seconds. But I let go.

  It was an accident.

  My hand just slipped.

  But for those few long seconds, as I hung with my one hand gripped tight to the ledge and my other reaching to join it, I felt free.

  Because I didn’t feel anything.

  No guilt. No pain.

  Only the space around me, and it was white and clean and bright.

  Blank …

  Just for a moment …

  I was blank …

  And in my mind, it was calm.

  22

  WHEN I CAME DOWN from the roof, I had a bath and got into bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I went down to get some water. Rachel was watching TV. I sat down next to her on the sofa, but I didn’t watch, because I was thinking about meeting Jamie tomorrow and how his call today had made me feel.

  I knew I wanted to kiss him.

  And I imagined over and over how it might be while the images on the TV shone brightly on the screen.

  My phone rang.

  UNKNOWN NUMBER.

  “Take it in the other room, will you?” Rachel said.

  I stood up and walked through to the kitchen, rubbing my eyes as I went.

  “Hello?”

  “Ana?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Frances.”

  I didn’t reply. I didn’t want to speak to her. Not yet anyway. I was still trying to get the images of her and Dad out of my head.

  “Are you still there, Ana?” she said.

  “What is it?” I said, whispering so Rachel couldn’t hear.

  “You haven’t come to see me.”

  “I came yesterday,” I said.

  “I’ve been waiting,” she said. “Today. Did you call Amanda back?”

  “N-not yet. I—”

  “But you will?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  There was silence.

  “I want to see you again, Ana,” she said. “Once you’ve spoken to her. Will you come?”

  “Yes,” I said. I just wanted to get her off the phone. I didn’t want to talk to her and I didn’t want Rachel to hear me having this conversation.

  “Good,” she said. “Because obviously, I will want to know what she says to you. There are to be no secrets between us now, Ana.”

  “Secrets?” I said, peering through to check that Rachel was still watching TV. “How can you say that when you must have lived a life full of them!”

  I was thinking about Dad and Frances again. I didn’t want to think about them. I couldn’t bear to think about them, together.

  “And I know you see my grandma,” I carried on. “You say there should be no secrets but you never told me that you saw Grillie!”

  “Your grandma came over on Saturday. We played bridge,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said, my voice getting louder.

  “I’ve always played bridge, Ana.”

  I waited a moment before I spoke. “You haven’t told Grillie about me, have you? About Emma?” I said. My voice sounded weak. I felt weak. “Please, Frances,” I said. “Please tell me you haven’t told her.”

  “What would I say, Ana?”

  I thought I might cry, but I held on to the tears because I could hear Rachel moving about next door.

  “It was hard enough telling Amanda about you,” Frances carried on. “So—no. I haven’t told anyone else.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “You sound tired, Ana. Are you tired?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  Suddenly I was so tired. I felt utterly dead beat.

  “It can make life quite bewildering—when you don’t sleep—don’t you find?”

  I opened my mouth to speak.

  “It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s not.”

  She was right. I was so tired. And I didn’t have the fight I needed for this conversation anymore.

  “You should try and get some sleep,” Frances said.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You’ll visit, when you’ve spoken to Amanda,” she said.

  “I will,” I said.

  And then she hung up.

  And I went and lay down on my bed and slept for six hours straight.

  I did exactly as Frances told me to.

  wednesday

  23

  WHEN I WOKE EARLY the next morning all I could feel was the loss of Mum. It was a feeling I’d lived with my whole life. It was normal. The norm. It was all I knew. Except since I’d seen Frances it had gotten worse. So much worse. It was like an ache deep inside that I couldn’t soothe. And here I was, with her number in my phone. I could call her, I could speak to her, and yet somehow it unnerved me.

  All I had to do was press CALL.

  I closed my eyes and told myself to do it. And I did.

  Mum answered immediately.

  “It’s Ana,” I said. “We spoke—before—earlier in the week…”

  “Ana!” she said. She sounded pleased. “I didn’t think you were going to call back.”
r />   Her voice was just as I remembered it, although—like the crackles on a glaze—it showed its age now. I’d forgotten that she wouldn’t be exactly as I remembered her. I’d forgotten she’d be older now. Not that it mattered, because here I was—speaking to her. And I was so relieved. My whole body relaxed at the sound of her. If a person could shine, I’m sure, in that moment, I would have been shining.

  “It’s not too early, is it?” I said. “I just wasn’t sure when else I could call.”

  “It’s fine,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, I know I said I’d call straight back, but—”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said.

  Neither of us spoke.

  “I—I wonder … could we meet?” I said. “It seems a bit hard, to talk like this, on the phone.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Let me get my diary.”

  The phone clunked as she put it down, and I heard her walk across a hard floor. There she was. My mum. My real mum. I was going to see her again.

  We arranged to meet the following day. A café in Hampton Wick. She said it wasn’t that far from Twickenham, where I lived. She said it was a nice café, although she hadn’t been for a while, but she was sure it was still there. She said she could get there by ten. I listened to her and I smiled to hear her talk. The familiarity of her was overwhelming. I didn’t care about the café. I didn’t even question that I’d have to skip school again. I just wanted to see her. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be soon enough.

  “I’ll have to bring the dog,” she said. “Do you like dogs?”

  “Yes, yes, I do.”

  “Oh, good. He’s a black Lab,” she said. “He has a red collar. He’s chunky. If you look out for him, you’ll be sure to find me. I’ll be on the other end of the lead!” she said, and she laughed.

  “But I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize you—without the dog—I mean…”

  She stopped laughing. “Right,” she said, and then she paused. “Really?”

  “Well, yes,” I said. “Of course.”

  “Well—okay,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” And I could hear the change in her voice as she said it, like she was unsure, frightened even, and I wished I hadn’t said a thing.

  24

  I FELT SICK ALL day at school.

  I wasn’t sure whether it was the thought of seeing Jamie at the end of the day that was making me feel this way or whether it was because I was seeing Mum tomorrow. Either way I felt sick; it was a heady mix of excitement and fear and hope that was making me feel this way, and it was new. It was all new.