by Sandy Taylor
We lay down on the blanket holding each other’s hands.
‘Hungry?’ said Joe.
‘Why, are you?’
‘Always.’
I sat up and started unwrapping the food. Joe poured the warm wine into the glasses. The bread was soft and crispy and the cheese was delicious.
‘To us,’ said Joe, clinking his glass against mine.
‘To us,’ I said, smiling.
I could taste the fruity wine on Joe’s lips as we kissed.
We lay there in the sun, listening to the voices of children running down the hill. Above us kites were bobbing about in the sky like gloriously coloured butterflies.
Soon Joe was snoring gently beside me. I got up and walked to the brow of the hill and looked out over London. When I had first arrived here, I had ached for the sea and the Sussex Downs. The sea and the beach would always remind me of Mary, but it was the Downs that held my memories of Ralph. It was Joe who had brought me up here to Parliament Hill. It couldn’t match the Sussex Downs, but it was the closest thing I could find here in London. I could always think more clearly in the open air. I was remembering my answer to Polly’s question when she’d asked me how Joe made me feel. ‘Safe, happy, loved,’ I had said.
I suppose that’s what everyone wants to feel. It’s what I always wanted – to feel safe. Mary had wanted more. She used to say, ‘What’s the point in doing something if you already know how it’s going to end?’ Mary taught me to be brave. She’d held my hand, and I’d walked down the slippery groyne towards the edge of the sea. She’d spun me around as we jumped down onto the pebbles, and she’d shouted up to the sky, ‘You did it. You did it.’ Maybe loving someone wasn’t about feeling safe. Maybe loving someone was the most unsafe thing that you would ever do. Mary would know. I could almost hear her telling me what to do.
Below me were two paths, each going in different directions. I seemed to be standing at the very crossroads where they met. Two paths. Two destinations. I knew what I had to do.
I was going home.
22
Joe had been so angry. I had never seen him angry before, not with me anyway. When I’d stood on the Heath that day, everything had seemed so clear, and yet I was scared – petrified really. I wanted to run away and not have to face Joe. Rush home and write him a letter, anything not to have to see the hurt in his eyes when I told him that I was leaving him, that I couldn’t marry him. He had shouted at me, when he’d never so much as raised his voice to me before. I noticed people looking at us, and I felt like a fool, but I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t. This was all my fault.
‘I gave you the chance to tell me the truth about Ralph before I asked you to marry me. What were you doing, hedging your bets?’
‘No, no I wasn’t.’
‘Really? Well I think you were. You couldn’t have Ralph so you settled for me.’
Tears were streaming down my face. I could hardly speak. I had never been the cause of so much pain before. I didn’t hurt people; I wasn’t like that. ‘I’m really sorry, Joe. You have to believe me.’
‘Do I? Well, I’m sorry that I believed you when you said you loved me.’
‘I did. I do.’
‘Then you need to grow up, Dottie, if this is your idea of love.’
I didn’t know if Joe would ever forgive me. I hoped he would. I really hoped he would, but I would understand if he couldn’t.
My boss Peter was lovely, but I was so upset by what I’d done to Joe that I burst out crying as soon as I stepped into his office.
‘My dear girl,’ he’d said, guiding me towards a chair. ‘What on earth’s wrong?’
I could barely speak. I felt like an idiot. Peter gave me his handkerchief.
‘Deep breaths, Dottie.’
I eventually calmed down and managed to hand in my notice.
‘Am I that scary?’
‘You’re not scary at all, I just couldn’t cope with anyone else being angry with me.’
‘I’m sad to be losing you, but I’m not angry.’
‘This is the best job I’ve ever had,’ I’d said, gulping back more tears. ‘I’ve loved it here.’
‘And we’ve loved having you here, but I imagine you have your reasons.’
‘I need to go back to Brighton. I need to go home.’
‘Do you have a job to go to?’
‘No. I suppose I can always go back to Woolworths until I find something better. I haven’t really thought it through, Peter. I just know that I have to go home.’
‘Now I don’t want to raise your hopes, but I know a guy who runs a small literary agency in Brighton. We were at university together. He’s a great chap. He hasn’t been going long, but I’ve heard he’s building a decent stable of writers. He might have something for you. If you’re interested I’ll give him a ring.’
‘Oh I’m definitely interested.’
‘Then I’ll contact him and see if he’s looking for someone. Are you on the phone at home?’
I felt the colour rush to my face. ‘No, we use a phone box at the end of the road.’
‘Can I give him your address then?’
‘Of course.’ I wrote the address down for him – 15 See-saw Lane. Now I really felt like I was going home.
Telling Polly was harder.
‘You’re the best flatmate I’ve ever had,’ she said. ‘The last two were bonkers. What am I going to do without you?’
‘I have to go home.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ve been running away. I have to stop running away.’
‘It’s because of Ralph, isn’t it?’
‘It’s because of a lot of things. I don’t know what will happen with me and Ralph, but I do know that I have to find out.’
‘Who’s going to visit Mrs Dickens with me?’ Then she burst out crying, which started me off again.
I had managed to hurt another person I loved.
Mrs P was surprisingly nice. She presented me with a box of Dairy Milk chocolates on the day I left the flat.
‘You've been an exemplary tenant, Miss Perks. I have no objection to you staying with Miss Renson if you want to visit in the future.’
Polly was making faces behind Mrs P’s back; it was difficult to keep it together.
‘Like I said, Miss Renson, I didn’t arrive here on a pushbike. Next time you want to make faces behind people’s backs, make sure you are not facing a mirror.’
Polly looked mortified. ‘Bloody hell. I mean sorry, Mrs Pierce.’
‘Well good luck, Miss Perks.’
‘Thank you,’ I said.
Peter had let me get away with two weeks’ notice instead of a month. I wrote to Mum to let her know that I was coming home. I had a letter back by return of post, saying how surprised and delighted she was and that her and my Aunty Brenda were going out that very afternoon to buy new sheets for my bed.
I intended leaving on the Friday, but Polly was having none of it. ‘Don’t think for one minute that I’m going to let you sneak off while I’m at work. You can bloody well wait till Saturday, when I’m here.’
Mary Pickles was the only real friend I had ever had growing up. I had thought that I would be friendless in London, but I’d met Polly, and now I was saying goodbye to her too.
As the train pulled out of Victoria station my mind was full of doubts. Was I making the right decision? These past few years had been happy ones with Joe, Polly, my job. They had all helped me grow in a way that I hadn’t thought possible. This wonderful city had opened its arms and welcomed me in, and now I was leaving it and all that had become dear to me.
As the train raced towards Brighton I became more and more anxious. I’d written to Ralph and told him that I was coming home. I didn’t say anything else except what time my train would be arriving at Brighton station. I knew there was a chance that he wouldn’t show up, but I hoped that he would. I had no plan. I had taken a leap of faith – everything was in the lap of the gods now.
As I lu
gged the case along the platform. I kept my head down. I didn’t want to tempt fate by searching for him in the crowd. He probably wouldn’t be there. He could be there. He might be there.
I got to the gate and handed my ticket to the man. It was the moment of truth. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I looked up and my heart sank. He wasn’t there. I should have known that I’d left it too late – it was the story of my life with Ralph. But I’d made my decision, and I wasn’t running back to London. I’d done enough running. I was home and whatever happened from now on I was going to stay here and make it work. This town might be filled with the saddest of times but it was also filled with the happiest.
Then out of the corner of my eye I saw a flash of red and he was running towards me. I dropped the case and fell into his arms. He kissed my lips, my face, my forehead. My face was wet with tears, and so was Ralph’s. We were laughing and crying all at the same time.
‘The bus didn’t come, Dottie, I had to run.’
‘You ran all the way from the estate?’
‘I would have run all the way from Scotland.’
23
Being back home, London seemed a million miles away. Ralph was still living with Peggy in the flat that he had shared with Mary. I desperately wanted to be with them both, but I really hated going there. Ralph knew how I felt, so we took Peggy out as much as we could, and in the evenings we went for long walks, while either Ralph or Mary’s mum looked after the little girl. I loved being with Ralph, There were times when it felt as if we had never been apart. I had no regrets about leaving London. I had no regrets about leaving Joe. I was where I was supposed to be. We had been given a second chance, and a lot of people don’t have that. We had both hurt good people for it to happen, and now we had to make sure that only good came out of it.
It took a while before I realised that Peggy wasn’t warming to me. I had never thought for one minute that she wouldn’t. I had loved her so much when she was a baby. I couldn’t have loved her more if she had been mine. But at five years old, Peggy wasn’t that tiny baby any more, and she didn’t remember a time when we had loved each other. Instead she was hurting, and I didn’t know what to do to help.
I decided to talk it over with Mum.
‘She’s been through a lot, that little girl,’ Mum said, sitting down at the kitchen table with me and pouring us each a cup of tea.
‘I know she has, and I want to make it better, but I don’t know how to.’
‘They say children adapt to change easier that adults, but I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Poor little thing never knew her mother, and she’s been led to believe that Fiona would be her new mummy, and now it’s all changed again. She must be very confused. Sometimes I think we expect too much of children. We expect them to just go along with what we want and when they don’t, we get cross.’
‘What should I do then?’
‘Be patient, Dottie, and don’t let it upset you. It’s not fair on her. Just let her know that you love her, and she’ll come round in the end – you’ll see.
‘I’ll try.’
Just then Aunty Brenda burst through the back door as if there was someone after her.
‘Get me a cup of tea quick,’ she said, plonking herself down on a chair.
Mum got another cup out of the dresser and started pouring the tea. She added lots of sugar because Aunty Brenda was in such a flap.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Mum, pushing the cup towards her.
‘Oh my God, she’s been spotted.’
‘Calm down, Brenda. Who’s been spotted?’
‘Our Carol, who do you think?’
‘Spotted doing what?’
It crossed my mind that she might have been caught shoplifting.
‘She was in the butcher’s getting me a bit of scrag-end for the stew when this scout approached her.’
‘In the butcher’s?’
‘As true as I’m standing here. Our Carol was approached in the butcher’s by a scout.’
‘Why?’ I said.
‘To be a model. He wants to take pictures of her in his studio in London.’
‘You’re never going to let her go, are you?’
‘I don’t know what to do, Maureen. You know our Carol. If she wants to do something she won’t take a blind bit of notice of me. Is there sugar in this tea?’
‘Three.’
‘Give me another couple, I’m in shock.’
Mum shovelled more sugar into the cup and stirred it. ‘You can’t just let her go to London to meet some strange bloke, Brenda. He could be a white slave trafficker.’
‘That’s exactly what I told Carol.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said I read too many Agatha Christie novels.’
‘When has she got to go?’
‘He gave her his card. He said he’ll wait to hear from her.’
‘I could go with her,’ I said. ‘If that would make you feel happier about it. I know London, and once I’m sure that everything’s above board I could leave her and visit my friend Polly.’
‘Would you really, Dottie? I’d feel so much better knowing you’re with her. You’ve got more brains in your little finger than our Carol’s got in the whole of her body.’
Carol might not have had much up top, but what she had got might just be about to make her a lot of money.
I was walking across the green towards Ralph’s flat and thinking about what Mum had said about Peggy. She was wise my mum – she was the wisest person I knew. I just had to be patient. The truth was that whenever I thought about Ralph, I thought about the two of us together, the way it had always been. The way it had been in the beginning. No Mary to stand in our way and no little girl called Peggy. Just him and me. Walking on the Downs, strolling along the seafront, going to the youth club, sitting in our café listening to records on the jukebox. What I wanted was our young selves back, before life tore us apart. I hadn’t considered Peggy. I felt ashamed. I’d been selfish.
Rita certainly thought I was. She’d gone ballistic when she’d heard about Ralph and me. I’d gone round to her house to get it out of the way.
She’d opened the door and glared at me.
‘Hello, Rita.’
‘Don’t you ‘hello, Rita’ me. You’ve got some nerve coming round here, Dottie Perks. Luckily for you Nigel’s not in, he’s very upset.’
‘I’m sorry he’s upset.’
‘Well, so you should be.’
‘Can I come in then?’
‘I suppose so,’ she’d said, backing away from the door. ‘Don’t forget to take your shoes off. And don’t make any noise, Miranda Louise is asleep.’
It had been on the tip of my tongue to mention that according to her bright babies didn’t need much sleep, but I’d thought better of it.
I’d had a feeling that it wouldn’t go well and I’d been right. She’d launched into an attack as soon as I’d walked into the front room.
‘How could you? How could you do that? She’d bought her wedding dress and Peggy’s bridesmaid dress. Can you imagine how she feels? Can you imagine how Nigel feels? How I feel? We’re all heartbroken.’
I hadn’t been able to see what Rita had to be heartbroken about. It wasn’t Nigel that I was running off with.
‘I didn’t set out to hurt anyone.’
‘You might not have set out to hurt anyone, Dottie, but you bloody well did. Fiona is Nigel’s cousin. She’s family. I’m ashamed, I really am. They had everything planned. Tickets bought, passports got.’
‘I know.’
‘Why couldn’t you have just stayed in London? You are always banging on about how happy you were up there and what a great job you had. Well you won’t be working on any trendy magazine here.’
‘I’m not expecting to.’
‘And where do you think you are going to live? Because Ralph has given the flat up.’
‘The council are letting him stay there.’
‘Well lucky old you.
’
‘I wouldn’t live there anyway.’
‘Too posh to live in a council place are you?’
‘That’s rich coming from you. You couldn’t get away from the estate quick enough.’
Rita had chosen to ignore that.
‘So why have you done it? Why have you spoiled everything?’
‘Ralph came to me, Rita. I didn’t go running after him. I didn’t ask him to leave Fiona.’
‘You might not have asked him to leave her, but you’re the reason he did.’
Rita had sat down on the sofa and picked up a little pink teddy bear. I’d guessed it belonged to Miranda Louise. She’d held it up to her nose, breathing in the smell of her baby.
‘I know that what Ralph did to Fiona was awful, but he didn’t love her enough to marry her. Now if that’s my fault then I’m sorry.’
‘I’m still pissed off with you.’
So what’s new, I’d thought. You’re always pissed off with me.
I was just about to walk across the quadrangle to Ralph’s, when I saw Fiona emerge from the block of flats. She was carrying a box, and she was crying. I ducked behind a wall until she had gone, then ran up the stone stairs.
Ralph opened the door. He didn’t say anything. He just walked ahead of me into the front room and sat down. His face looked drawn. He leaned forward and rested his head in his hands.
‘Fiona was here. She picked up her things.’
‘I know. I saw her.’
He looked up at me. ‘I’ve hurt a lot of people, Dottie.’
I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to say that it was worth it, but he didn’t.
24
When I got back round to Mum’s, she handed me a letter.
‘It’s got a London postmark on it, Dottie,’ she said. ‘Who can that be from?’
‘It could be from Polly,’ I said. I looked at the envelope. ‘No, it’s not Polly’s writing.’