by Jo Duchemin
My phone also revealed one message from Sofia and a separate one from Ben. Sofia’s was sent this morning and Ben’s last night, so I chose to read them in chronological order.
Ben: Thanks for today. Sofia is awesome. Just dropped her back at the halls. Is it too soon to call her?
My plan appeared to be working. I read the other message, from Sofia.
Sofia: Hope your head feels better, hon. I didn’t text you last night as it was so late when we got back. I really like Ben, but he hasn’t called me yet. Do I have to wait the three days before I can call him like it says in all those books? Xxx
I smiled. The plan was definitely working. I felt a sense of achievement, the tiniest ray of sunshine poking through the dark clouds that hung over me. If I couldn’t make myself happy, at least I could make others happy. I replied to Sofia first:
I’m sure he will call you really soon. My head is hurting, but that’s because I fell over last night (no I wasn’t drinking) and bruised my head! X
Then to Ben, I wrote: Call her now, I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear from you!
I took a shower and then decided to check my emails, hoping for more distractions to fill my day. A sense of relief washed over me when I read an email from my English lecturer, setting us an assignment to complete over the Christmas break – I could focus on that today. I shook my head at the change in my attitude. In my school days, I would have left the assignment until the last minute, spending all my time having fun with my family and friends. It felt like that had been another life.
I also had an email from Callie, one of my old school friends, who I’d been really close to before my parents had died – she’d stayed over with me for some of the nights after it happened. She was really enjoying her time at university. Callie wanted to see me over the Christmas break, but she was only popping back briefly. The dates she was at home were the dates I was visiting my Aunt Sandra. I sighed; it would have been nice to see her, but it wasn’t going to happen over this break. I sent a quick reply to her.
My inbox also contained an email from another school friend, Jade. She was coming back from university for longer and would arrive back tomorrow. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend and wondered if I would like to go out drinking and dancing one evening in the run up to Christmas – two single girls, out on the town together. Inwardly, I cringed. I didn’t feel single. I felt like I’d been ripped in half. I didn’t fancy a trip out to a nightclub, where I would, no doubt, be groped by drunk, lecherous men. I just wanted Marty. Mentally, I slapped myself – there was no point being negative about a night out, it might be fun. Marty wasn’t coming back. This was my life now.
A final email sat waiting to be read. I’d been putting it off. My solicitor had sent a message. I had nothing against her, she had been brilliant following the deaths of my parents, explaining all the legal jargon with patience, providing tissues and cups of tea when things became too much for me. Messages from her always upset me though, reminding me that I was alone. We’d agreed early on during the long-winded process of dealing with my parents’ estate that she would email me rather than call, allowing me time to talk to my aunt before I had to make big decisions. I closed my eyes, summoning up the strength to read the email. It wasn’t going away, so I’d better face it head on:
Dear Miss Lee,
Just a quick email regarding your father’s business. The day-to-day running of the firm has been administered by Mr Samuel Acton, on a temporary basis, since your father’s death. Your father was the senior partner in the business, therefore Mr Acton does not have the legal right to implement changes to the company.
As your father’s sole benefactor, you must be consulted on important decisions. You have the right to take over your father’s role, or you can sign some forms to allow Mr Acton, or any other suitable person, to make those decisions on your behalf.
Mr Acton wishes to address some issues that have arisen in the company since your father’s death and this cannot go ahead without your permission. Please contact me to arrange a discussion of your options.
Yours sincerely,
Melissa Talbot
The weight of the world felt like it was upon my shoulders. I didn’t want this responsibility. My dad had built the business up from scratch, it was his dream. I didn’t know what to do – part of me wanted to sign away my rights, to give the business away to a responsible grown up, yet the other part of me hated letting go of something that meant so much to my dad. He’d started the firm in his twenties, buying a small house, renovating it, and selling it on for a profit. Within five years, the business had grown and was making enough money that he took on an apprentice, Sam. Sam had been as dedicated as my dad, treating the business as an extension of himself. Within the next few years, they had created one of the top property development companies in the region and had twenty employees working directly for them, plus contractors that were used for certain projects. My dad had been a bit of a workaholic and it did start to upset mum: I recollected seeing her crying when I came home early from a friend’s house once, her and my dad having arguments that they thought I couldn’t hear. After they had a blazing row one night, the situation improved. Dad had made Sam a junior partner in the firm, giving him more responsibility and leaving him in charge when we went on holidays. Dad began to work sensible hours, spending more time with Mum and I. He ignored his phone when it rang after hours and at weekends. I smiled, thinking of him shouting “I’m off the clock!” at the screen when it lit up with ‘incoming call’, leaving the caller to his voicemail.
I called Melissa’s assistant to arrange a meeting for the next day, hoping Melissa would be able to offer some advice on the situation. She’d been so helpful and efficient, I hadn’t really appreciated just how much she’d done for me at the time, my grief had been too raw.
I printed off the assignment details from my English lecturer, before heading down to the kitchen to make a coffee. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, I stared out of the French doors into the garden, the snow still sparkling on the ground. It was the very same spot where I’d watched Marty fade away. I couldn’t believe I’d only been on my own for two full days since he’d left, it felt like a lifetime, already. I read through the task for the assignment – we had to compare two poems from a pre-twentieth century poet of our choice. I immediately decided to use poems by William Blake, knowing, all too well, where there was a book containing some of his poems. I’d begin the assignment after having my coffee, no point rushing into it.
I sat in the silent house, listening to the constant ticking of the clock, wondering what Marty was doing. Had Alfie told him about my visit? Had he seen me hurt myself? I touched my forehead gently, the tender bump feeling less pronounced than it had yesterday. Perhaps, when it was healed, I’d try forcing myself to faint again. I couldn’t live without him.
The beep of my phone cut into my thoughts. A message from Sofia:
He called! He’s asked me out on a date – Friday night! What should I wear? xxx
I just finished reading it when my phone beeped again – this time with a message from Ben:
I asked her out – she said yes! Where should I take her?
Whilst I was pleased with the distraction of their blossoming romance, a part of me wanted to bang their heads together. I messaged Sofia first, asking her where she thought they were going, and when she replied that she hoped he would be taking her to dinner and a stroll by the river, I then suggested to Ben that he took her for dinner and a stroll by the river. I then replied to Sofia to suggest that she wore a little black dress, shoes she could walk in, and a winter coat. They could have worked it all out themselves, no wonder angels had to have so much patience.
I wandered upstairs to collect the Blake book. It was still on the side of my bed and, as I approached it, I noticed something sticking out of it. A white feather. It had been put in the middle of the book,
taking the place of a bookmark. My pulse had quickened and I was holding my breath. My fingers fumbled as I opened the book to the page marked with the feather. The poem was entitled ‘The Angel’. Tears ran down my face as I read it. The narrative of the poem spoke to me, but two lines, in particular, seemed to be written for me and my angel. I read them again and again. ‘And I wept both night and day/And he wiped my tears away’. Marty, my own angel, who had sat with me so often when I cried, who brushed my tears away so gently, who had captured my heart. He’d visited me. I didn’t know how he’d managed it, how he’d got past the Dominion, and I didn’t care. I needed to know that he was thinking of me and he’d found a way.
I re-read the poem and my elation started to fade. The poem was a message to me. The angel left, the maiden queen dried her tears and she moved on, she grew old. Marty was telling me to do the same. My chest felt as though it would explode. I ran to the en-suite, where I cried so hard I made myself sick.
I didn’t write my essay. I didn’t eat. I didn’t think any more about my dad’s business. I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep, holding on to the white feather that was my only link to the love I’d lost.
Chapter 20
I slept right through to the next morning. I’d gone from waking up early and being unable to sleep, to managing to sleep a whole day away. Perhaps heartbreak was as physically draining as it was mentally. I got myself prepared for my meeting with Melissa, my solicitor. I was relieved to see that the bump on my head was no longer swollen and the bruising had started to fade. I could cover the worst of it with make up. I didn’t want anyone to think that I’d started drinking heavily again. The truth – that I’d forced myself to faint, so that I could have an out of body experience and talk to an angel – was probably likely to get me locked up in a mental institution.
The snow had started to melt and, as I hadn’t left the house since my rehearsal, I decided to walk to the solicitor’s office. The cold air was refreshing, numbing. I shuffled along, my hood up to keep my ears warm, keeping my head down so that I didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone, not that there were many people walking about, in the cold, this early in the morning.
It didn’t take me long to get to Melissa’s office. I’d booked an early appointment, so that I would have time to begin my Christmas shopping before my rehearsal in the afternoon. I’d been putting off Christmas shopping, knowing that it would be strange not buying presents for my parents this year.
I signed in at the reception desk and walked the familiar route to Melissa’s office. Her assistant wasn’t in work yet, but the receptionist had assured me that Melissa would be at her desk. I knocked on the door and waited.
Melissa opened the door and welcomed me into her office. She noticed my bruise straight away, but didn’t mention it. I took off my coat and hung it on the coat rack on the back of the door.
“Claudia, how have you been?”
Well, my parents died, I got sent a guardian angel who fell in love with me, I fell in love with him, higher angels found out, forced him to leave me, now I can’t stop crying and I bruised my head forcing myself to faint. “I’m fine,” I said, lying.
“Good.” I could tell she didn’t believe me, but it wasn’t her place to interfere. “Well, I shan’t keep you long, I just wanted to run you through your options regarding your father’s business.” Melissa looked at me and I nodded, so she continued: “You can either stay on as the senior partner, having authority over the whole business; or you can transfer those rights to another individual, selling the business to that person; or you can stay on as a silent partner, still owning your share, but having very little interference in the day-to-day running of the company – again, you’d have to transfer some authority to another individual, for that option.”
“I don’t know what I want to do.” I felt like a child.
“I can’t make that decision for you. Do you know much about your father’s business?” Melissa raised an eyebrow at me.
I shook my head. “Hardly anything. Mum sort of resented the hours Dad spent there, for a long time, so she didn’t want to get involved. We kept family time separate from work time.” I thought back to Ben telling me how his dad had wanted him to follow him into the business – my dad had never put that pressure on me.
She nodded. “I understand. Perhaps a visit to your father’s office would be illuminating? You could see for yourself how it works and decide if you want to be involved or not. I can have the documents drawn up as soon as you make your choice.”
“How soon do I have to decide?”
“You have a few weeks, there is no legal reason to rush, but Mr Acton is keen to get things settled. He said the staff morale is low following your father’s death and the uncertainty isn’t helping.”
“OK.” My voice sounded small. Young. Scared.
“I’ll ring Mr Acton up now and make an appointment for you.” She said it kindly, as though she was concerned that I wasn’t brave enough to talk to him myself. She looked up the number from a file with my name at the top and then quickly dialled, drumming her fingers on the desk while she waited for the phone to be picked up. “Good morning, Melissa Talbot, calling on behalf of Claudia Lee. Yes, I’ve just been discussing the matter with Miss Lee…No, she hasn’t made a decision, she’d like to visit the workplace…Of course, I didn’t think it was a problem. Let me just check…” Melissa covered the mouthpiece with her hand and spoke to me. “Any time after 9am tomorrow, is that good for you?” I nodded and she spoke back into the phone, “that’s perfect, Miss Lee will see you then. Thank you, goodbye.”
“Thank you, Melissa. You didn’t have to do that for me.”
“Not a problem. Send me an email or call me when you’ve reached a decision.”
“I will.” I stood up to leave, holding out my hand to shake hers. I put my coat back on and headed out of the office.
It was still quiet on the streets as I made the short walk into the town centre. Most stores had only just opened and there were few shoppers yet. I needed to buy presents for my cousins, Aunt Sandra and Uncle Ned, but beyond that, I didn’t have many people to buy for. My friends from school and I had never really bought each other gifts at Christmastime, choosing to save the money to go out together. I didn’t feel particularly close to anybody at university, except perhaps Sofia and Ben and, even then, I wasn’t sure if we would be exchanging gifts. I needed an outfit for the following night, when I was meeting up with Jade for our ‘single girls’ night out. I shuddered slightly at the idea. The old me had loved shopping for clothes. Right now, I didn’t care what I was wearing, but I supposed I had to try and make an effort. He wasn’t coming back, I reminded myself. Life had to go on.
I went in a toyshop and quickly found suitable gifts for all my cousins and bought some colourful wrapping paper and Christmas cards, as well. I went into another shop and bought a pampering gift set of expensive bath treats for Aunt Sandra, knowing she felt that a long soak in the bath was her relaxation time. I purchased some aftershave for Uncle Ned, getting a gift receipt in case I’d picked one he didn’t like. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I headed to the clothes shop that had been my favourite before my parents had died. I decided to keep the outfit simple, choosing a fitted black dress, red heels and a red clutch bag. I didn’t bother to try anything on, hoping the dress and shoes would fit when I got home. I’d had enough for today.
With so many bags to carry, I couldn’t walk home, and I didn’t fancy getting a bus, so I treated myself to a taxi. It felt indulgent, but I could afford it – I hadn’t bought groceries in days.
The taxi driver, thankfully, was not chatty and I gave him a handsome tip as a thank you. I dumped the bags of shopping on the kitchen table and got ready for my rehearsal. I remembered to eat lunch; skipping meals was becoming far too commonplace these days. I applied more make up over my bruise, knowing that Donna would make a comme
nt if she noticed it and headed to the university theatre.
Sofia and Ben were already there, sitting together, chatting, when I arrived. They both smiled and I felt the happiest I’d been all day, seeing them happy. I joined them before the rehearsal got underway. Sofia noticed my bruise as I took off my hat.
“Ouch – you weren’t kidding! That looks sore.”
“Shit,” I said, tired of watching my language, “Donna’s bound to notice.”
“Tell her it’s from the light nearly killing you – that’ll shut her up instantly,” Ben laughed and Sofia looked at him like he’d just invented sliced bread. Operation matchmaker was definitely a success.
“Well, I did see my solicitor today,” I commented and I watched their mouths simultaneously drop to the floor. “Not about my near miss. About your dad, Ben, actually.”
“Why?” Ben seemed completely clueless.
“Something to do with the business – I now own my dad’s share and I have to decide what to do with it. I’m meeting your dad tomorrow morning, what’s he like?”
Ben shrugged. “He’s cool.”
“He won’t think I’m interfering?” I asked.
“He will probably be relieved that someone is taking an interest in the business. He’s being trying to get me into it for years.”
“Can you put in a good word for me, tonight? Let him know I’m not trying to arrange a coup?” I wasn’t about to admit it, but the thought of meeting Ben’s dad tomorrow was troubling me. He might be angry that I was sticking my nose into his business.
“I won’t see him tonight, I’m going to see my mum and step-dad. I could call him for you, if you want, but you really don’t have to worry. He’s easy going with everyone but me.” He rolled his eyes.
At that moment, Donna called the rehearsal to order. She wanted to run the first act all the way through. I was involved in most of the songs, leaving very little time to think about Marty, Ben’s dad, the business and the other things that filled up my mind. Waiting in the wings, during the second song, I nearly burst into tears when one of my fellow cast members sang the line ‘still the clock ticks on and time doesn’t wait, and you have to accept the cruel hand of fate’. I didn’t want to accept for the life I’d been half living these past few days. I wanted Marty.