The Girl I Used to Be

by Mary Torjussen

  My heart sank. It could be hours before Lauren wanted to go home. I started to walk back toward the house and staggered, falling into a bush. I didn’t mind; I thought it was funny. One of the girls from school yanked me back up again and asked if I was all right. I nodded. I don’t think I could have spoken if I’d wanted to.

  When I reached the house I was suddenly desperate for the toilet. There were several portable toilets at the bottom of the garden but I didn’t think there was a chance I’d reach them in time. I searched for a cloakroom inside the house and found a door under the stairs, which I thought was probably what I wanted. When I tried to open it, I heard a boy laugh and a girl say “Shh!” and I realized what was going on. I gave a deep sigh, knowing there was no point in waiting, and went farther into the house. I could hardly see by then and was smiling at just about everyone. The mood was high, voices were loud, everyone was happy.

  At the foot of the stairs there were a couple of chairs, with a note telling people to keep out. I couldn’t wait by then, though, so I squeezed past them and found a bathroom just at the top of the stairs. I stumbled in and sat down so fast I nearly dislodged the toilet seat. I found that funny, and wondered just what was in that punch. I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t wash my hands, though, and saw that my face was flushed in the bathroom mirror, my eyes bleary and half closed. I knew I’d suffer the next day; I would have even if I’d stopped after the champagne and the tequila shots at Lauren’s house. I remember grimacing as I thought of the headache I’d have. The following afternoon I was going on holiday to France for two weeks with my family and already I was dreading the long car journey with a hangover.

  As I turned from the basin, I slipped on a towel someone had left on the bathroom floor. I probably should have picked it up, but I realized pretty quickly that if I bent down, I would fall. I doubted I’d be able to get myself back up if that happened, so I kicked the towel to one side and opened the bathroom door. It was quiet upstairs, though I could hear the sounds of the party continuing downstairs and out in the garden. I tripped at the top of the stairs and grabbed the handrail. I didn’t think I’d make it down there without falling. My head was spinning by then and I had a sudden vision of myself hurtling headfirst down the stairs.

  I backed away from the staircase and stumbled back into a door. It opened behind me. A lamp was lit next to a double bed. From the hockey stick propped up against the wall, I realized it must be Alex’s room. He played for the school team; the only time I’d spoken to him was when he dropped his kit when he was hurrying to get to a match. Posters from the Glastonbury music festival he’d gone to that summer were on his bedroom wall. I’d known he was going to it, just after the exams ended. Lauren had heard him talking to Theo about it, when they were all queuing up to leave the hall after their last exam. A local band, The Coral, was playing at Glastonbury that year and Alex wore their T-shirt at the party. A drum kit was in the corner of the room next to a guitar and a huge amp. I remember wondering whether he was any good and thinking he wouldn’t play if he wasn’t.

  I sat down on the bed. Suddenly I was so weary, I just wanted to sleep. My head was spinning and everything was blurred. I couldn’t summon up the energy to go back downstairs and I knew that when I did, Lauren would want to stay longer and she wouldn’t want to spend time with me. Only that night she’d said that she and Tom had just three weeks left and they were going to spend every single minute together.

  So I lay down. The bed was so soft, its covers clean and fragrant. It smelled like my own bed, when the linen had just been changed. I loved the scent of clean sheets. And I knew Alex wouldn’t know I’d been here—he was a party boy; he’d be outside until dawn.

  My head relaxed onto his pillow. I had a fleeting thought that my makeup would be all over the pillowcase, but I couldn’t care about that then. The door was half open and I knew that Lauren would come to find me. She’d know I hadn’t gone home; how could I? I had no money on me and I wasn’t going to go back to my house as drunk as this. The bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the room and the light from the lamps on the landing flooded the entrance to the room. She’ll see me here, I thought. She’ll tell me when it’s time to go home.

  I turned to face away from the lamp. I’ve never liked to sleep with a light shining on my face. As I turned I felt my dress ride up and I made a halfhearted attempt to pull it down. As I turned, it rose up again. I tugged it again. The scent of the pillow and the alcohol in my bloodstream and the lateness of the hour and the fact that I’d been awake until dawn that morning, worrying about my exam results, meant that when I turned back, my head buried in the pillow, I relaxed completely. I remember sighing as I slipped into sleep.

  It had been a great night. A really great night.

  PART 1

  ONE

  Present day

  Friday, June 16

  WHEN I SAW him for the first time, I didn’t think he’d be trouble. He was tall and broad, built like a rugby player, nice enough, I suppose, but not the kind of man you’d necessarily look twice at in the street. At first glance he looked harmless enough. That’s how men like him operate, I suppose.

  I saw him that morning, looking at the advertising boards in the window of the estate agency I own, but didn’t take a lot of notice at first. Over the course of a day maybe a hundred or so people will look at the boards, trying to decide which house they’d buy if they had the chance, and I’d quickly learned that an expression of interest did not mean a sale. He looked for a while, moving from the cheapest houses to the most expensive. I remember idly wondering what he was looking for.

  When he did come in, he hung about in the doorway, as though he were waiting for someone. I glanced around and saw that Rachel, our sales negotiator, was at the photocopier and Brian, our lettings manager, was busy with a tenant. Usually we leave clients to look around, but he seemed uncertain, so I caught his eye and smiled.

  “Good morning,” I said. “Can I help you with anything?”

  “I’m David Sanderson,” he said, coming to sit at my desk. “I have an appointment.”

  “Oh yes,” I said, flustered. He was an hour earlier than I’d expected and I’d planned to run out to meet my friend Grace for coffee for half an hour. “Hi. I’m Gemma Brogan.” We shook hands. “Just a moment, I’ll call up your details.”

  While I did that, I surreptitiously sent Grace a quick e-mail. Sorry, can’t meet. Another day?

  “So you’re looking for somewhere in the city center,” I said. “I can see you’ve selected a number you like the look of.”

  “I’m still not sure whether to go for an apartment or a house,” he said. He smiled then, a great smile that made his face light up. It transformed him from someone you wouldn’t really notice to someone you’d definitely remember. I couldn’t help but smile back. “I’m not sure if I’m ready for a house. I’d rather be near some bars and a gym.”

  “Will you be buying on your own?”

  I could see Sophie, our junior administrator, who was always on the lookout for a boyfriend, give a sidelong look at Rachel. I could tell from the way they both became very still that they were waiting for his answer.

  “Yes, I’m single,” he said. “I’m just looking for somewhere for myself.”

  I reckoned he was around my age, in his midthirties. Now that he was at ease and smiling, it was hard to believe he wasn’t snapped up already, though of course he could be divorced.

  “Are you from Chester?” I asked. “I’m trying to place your accent.”

  “I grew up in the northwest but I’ve been working over in the States for the last ten years or so. Boston. My company’s transferred me to the UK for a while. A few years, I guess. I’ve sold up over there; no point in keeping the old place going.”

  “Who’re you working for?”

  “Barford’s. I’m in sales.”

  I nodded. Barford’s was a lar
ge pharmaceutical company that had its headquarters on an industrial estate just outside Chester. I’d found properties for a couple of people there; it was supposed to be a great place to work.

  He clarified the price he was willing to spend; it was in the upper ballpark of properties in Chester, and I started to get excited. We had plenty of properties on our books. Things were moving more slowly than usual and I knew I could find him something. He’d named a great price and he was willing to try out a lot of different areas. I had to sell to him. I didn’t want to have to come back to the office and tell my staff that he had decided to go elsewhere.

  “I’ll get some details,” I said. “I won’t be a moment.” I saw that Sophie was busy with a client, so I called over to Rachel, who was putting brochures in the window. “Rachel, would you make Mr. Sanderson a drink, please?” It wasn’t her job to do that, but in such a small office we all had to take on that duty if someone else was busy.

  She came over to my desk. “Would you like tea or coffee?”

  “I’ll have coffee, thanks,” he said.

  “How do you like it?”

  I glanced at her and had to stop myself from laughing. Her face was pink and she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She and Sophie were always the same when a good-looking guy came into the office. They were both young and single, though Sophie had nerves of steel when it came to dating, while Rachel seemed more shy and nervous.

  He smiled at her. “White, no sugar, thanks.”

  She blushed again and disappeared into our tiny kitchen behind the office. Sophie swiftly followed her and I could hear muffled giggles.

  We drank the coffee and went through the details of some of the properties I had. He seemed particularly interested in the apartments that overlooked the River Dee and others that were in the center of the city.

  I glanced at the office diaries online. I would normally send Rachel out, but she had another appointment that morning. I had a valuation in several hours’ time, at four P.M. “You said in your e-mail you were free until three P.M. I can take you to view some properties now, if you like.”

  “That would be great,” he said. “I’d love to look around this area; I don’t know it well at all.”

  “Just give me a few minutes,” I said. “I’ll make a few calls and get my keys.”

  “I can drive us if you like.”

  “It’s fine, thanks,” I said. “It’ll be easier if I drive. I know the quickest routes.”

  I asked Sophie to take some details from him and he went over to sit with her. Sophie was only eighteen and fresh from school. She was still learning the ropes; I’d had to weigh up experience versus cost when I’d employed her and still wasn’t sure I’d made the right decision. As I made my calls I saw her, her face bright with excitement, asking David for his details and laboriously entering them into the computer.

  * * *

  * * *

  I ALWAYS DRIVE round to the front of the office to pick up clients, so that they don’t have to go through the back and into the car park. As soon as he got into my little car I could see I should have let him drive his own. He was over six feet tall with long legs and broad shoulders, and he looked really cramped in the passenger seat.

  “I’m sorry!” I said as he struggled with the seat belt. “Shall we go in your car? I can direct you.”

  “It’s fine.” He turned and grinned at me. “I used to drive a Mini.”

  I laughed.

  “My mum bought herself one when I was seventeen,” he said. “I think she thought it would put me off borrowing it.”

  “And did it?”

  “No, but I saved up for my own much quicker than I would have if she’d had a bigger car.”

  “Clever woman. I’ll have to remember that when my son’s old enough to drive.”

  “How old is he now?”

  “Three.” I smiled. Every time I thought of Rory, I smiled. “Plenty of time to go.”

  The first property I took him to was an apartment block set in a gated courtyard within the city walls. As I drove, he asked questions about the area and I talked to him about the old Roman walls that encircled the city.

  “Walking around the walls of the city is a great way to get to know Chester,” I said. “It’s a couple of miles and you follow the wall around—it’s virtually complete. You get to see the racecourse, the castle, and the cathedral as well as the River Dee. So you can see, it’s a pretty small city, but it’s got a lot going for it.”

  “Have you lived here long?” he asked.

  I nodded and told him I’d grown up on the Wirral, twenty-five miles north of Chester. “I moved down to London to university and then moved here.”

  “You were in London? I was there, too. Imperial. I studied maths. How about you?”

  “Queen Mary’s. Business. I graduated in 2005.”

  “Me too!” He grinned at me. “That’s weird. And then you moved back north?”

  “I always wanted to work for myself, but it’s virtually impossible in London, so I moved here about seven years ago when I decided to open my own business. I love it here.”

  “That’s your own agency? You’ve done pretty well.”

  “Thanks. I love having my own place.”

  I was really proud of myself for owning my own business. It had always been my dream. I trained as an estate agent immediately after graduating, and worked down in London for a few years. Sales were high in those days, so my commission was, too, and I saved as much as I could, knowing I wanted my own place in the future. When I met Joe, we decided to head north so I could set up on my own. It would have been impossible to do that in London. I have a few properties that I’ve bought to rent out, too. It seemed crazy not to, when there were cheap houses coming up at auction. We’re managing agents for a number of landlords, so it’s just as easy to manage mine at the same time.

  “It’s a big responsibility, though, isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “It’s a lot of work sometimes, but I love working for myself.”

  “I’d love to do that,” he said. “I’m in a great job, but there’s something about having your own business . . . I’d really like to try it. Did you buy an existing agency?”

  “Yes, I bought one that had been running for a few years.”

  What did you do about staff?”

  “Brian, the older guy who was in the office when you came in, was someone I inherited. He was a lifesaver; he’s worked in lettings for years and knows all the local landlords and tradespeople. I leave the letting side to him, though he’s heading for retirement now and works shorter weeks. It won’t be too long before I have to look for a replacement for him, I suppose. I hired the women myself.”

  We arrived at the first apartment and took the lift to the fifth floor. The previous owners had already moved, so a sale could go ahead quickly.

  “Hmm, this is pretty nice,” he said. “How long has it been unoccupied?”

  “They’ve just moved out,” I said. “Last month. May. It’s much better that it’s empty; you could move in within weeks. You’ll probably find there’s room to maneuver on the price, too. If the vendor’s still paying a mortgage, they’ll want a fast sale.”

  He went over to the window and opened the doors to the balcony that overlooked the central courtyard. There was space out there for a small table and a couple of chairs. He closed the doors without comment, then went into the bathroom. There was nothing to complain about there and he went into the kitchen, pulling out drawers and opening cupboards. Everything there was high spec; it was just the kind of place I thought he’d like.

  “What do you think?” He smiled over at me. “Could you see me here?”

  I laughed. “It’s a great city center apartment. Well, on the edge of the city, which is better, really. You don’t get the noise.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,�
�� he said. “It’s pretty noisy out there, when the French doors are open.”

  “Really? It seems quiet to me. Well, it’s the middle of the day, so there’ll be a lot of tourists and shoppers. At night it’d be much quieter.”

  He nodded. “Let’s go. Where’s next?”

  Next was a house in a popular area a couple of miles from the center of town. It had its own busy center, with bars and restaurants, gyms and shops.

  “Houses move quickly here,” I said as I showed him around. “This one’s only been on the market for a few days and I’m expecting it to go by the end of the month.”

  “Sounds great,” he said. “I could be living here within a couple of months.”

  I smiled, absolutely certain that pretty soon he’d be making an offer on one of our properties.

  * * *

  * * *

  BY MIDAFTERNOON, THOUGH, I’d shown him six places, and although he’d enthused about them all, when I dropped him off at the office he made no suggestion that he’d be taking any of them further.

  “I’ll be in touch in the next few days,” he said.

  “Great!” I smiled at him. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “Any luck?” asked Sophie as I entered the office.

  I frowned. A number of people were looking at houses listed on the boards and looked up in interest when she called out.

  “Can I see you for a moment?” I asked, and went into the kitchen to wait for her. She bounced in, but the smile left her face when I reminded her not to call out in the office. “Just e-mail me or ask me quietly if it’s busy out there.”

  She squirmed with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

  Rachel came into the kitchen and filled the kettle for tea.

  I said, “That’s okay,” to Sophie. I didn’t like to reprimand her while anyone else was around.

  She was only down for a moment, though, before she nudged me, saying, “How did it go with that guy? He was nice, wasn’t he?”