I Remember You

by Harriet Evans

‘You can’t just finish with me over the phone,’ Peter said, his voice full of exasperation. ‘It doesn’t work like that, Tess-’

  ‘I’m sorry, Peter.’ She was almost pleading with him, because she wanted him to see that she was right, she didn’t want to hurt him. ‘I really am. I thought I was in love with you-’

  ‘Hey. Hey-me too,’ he said curtly. ‘I don’t just go around falling in love with anyone, you know. I was ready to-’ He paused. ‘I really thought you loved me, Tess.’

  ‘I did too,’ she said sadly. She knew it sounded weak. But Tess also knew that she was right. Like London, Rome was a distraction for her. She had fallen in love with the holiday, with the romance, with the city-with Peter a bit too, of course. But it wasn’t him she’d actually fallen in love with, and that was the problem. To go and spend Christmas with him, knowing that was a lie-no. Tess had done that before, had sat passively by and let someone else make the decisions, and she had got hurt. This way, she knew, was the best way of minimizing his feelings, as well as hers. She would rather hurt him now, than hurt him much more later on. She peered out onto the street, wondering when Francesca and Adam would turn up from their assignation.

  ‘Where are you?’ Peter said. ‘You sound like you’re underwater.’

  ‘I’m in Piccadilly,’ she said. ‘Just near the Burlington Arcade.’

  ‘Oh, I say, how very jolly,’ Peter said, in his best British accent. ‘“I’m Burlington Bertie, I rise at ten thirty,”’ he sang. ‘“And saunter along like a toff.”’

  ‘How on earth-’ Tess began.

  ‘I was in a barbershop quartet at college,’ he said. ‘Oh, yeah. You should hear my “Mr Sandman”.’

  ‘Really?’ Tess laughed, off her guard. ‘Well, I never. I sometimes feel like I don’t know you at all.’

  There was a silence, and she realized what she had said. ‘Guess you’re right there,’ Peter said. ‘Answer me something, Tess.’

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, shaking her head; she caught sight of herself in the shop window, hair bouncing from side to side as the human traffic moved along behind her.

  He spoke again. ‘Do you think you’d have fallen for me if it hadn’t been in Rome? If I’d just been an ordinary guy who walked into the pub in your English country village one evening?’

  ‘That’s the trouble, Peter,’ Tess said sadly. ‘You wouldn’t have walked into the pub. You wouldn’t even come over to visit the pub.’ He started to speak, and she said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m not having a go at you, truly I’m not. I just mean-it was a place, it was a time. Don’t you think? You left too.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do think that. I’ve been thinking it myself, you know. Being away, it made me realize. I love it here, but only when there’s something exciting about being here. I came here for Chiara. I came back here for you. But do I want to live here, now I’m back?’ He laughed. ‘I’m probably just jet-lagged.’

  ‘Could you go back to the States if you wanted? Would they let you?’

  ‘The newspaper? Yeah, I think so.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I kind of think they want me to. I think I want to, as well.’

  So they had both decided Rome wasn’t for them.

  ‘And what about Chiara?’ she asked bravely. ‘I wonder if-’

  ‘No,’ Peter said firmly. ‘That’s over.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Tess,’ Peter said, after a pause. ‘It’s easy for you to say “Really?” like that. But you can’t stay with someone…when you’re in love with someone else.’ He gave an interrogative sound. ‘Isn’t that true?’

  ‘Oh, you mean Chiara’s Leon,’ Tess said.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I mean you. Think about it, honey. Call me at Nicoletta’s’-this was a neighbour of his, an amazing cook-‘on Christmas Day?’ he said, and his voice was warm. ‘I want to know you’re still feeling guilty. Ciao, beautiful.’

  And the line went dead.

  She went into the Burlington Arcade then, humming the song ‘Burlington Bertie’, her hand on her solar plexus, rubbing her stomach gently as though she had tummy ache. She bought some Ladurémacaroons for Stephanie, beautiful jewel-like colours, shells smooth as a duck’s egg, nestling in crisp tissue paper and held in a gold and pistachio-coloured bag. She went to Penhaligon’s and bought perfume for Liz, bath oil for her sister, old-fashioned soap on a rope for Mike, her brother-in-law. As she was coming out of the shop, her eye fell on the window of an old jeweller’s, where antique brooches, rings and necklaces sat in plush little velvet boxes. It was a miracle she noticed it, really, tucked away at the back as it was: a brooch of three flowers wound together with gold strands, each flower a different colour, one amber yellow, one moonstone blue, one amethyst purple, with tiny green glass leaves. The work was beautiful, delicate. At the bottom, a small square of card was marked in tiny writing: ‘Primula Brooch, c. 1920. Label on reverse. £45.’

  Tess opened the door and went in, a smile on her face.

  As she was finishing the payment, handing the card machine back to the elderly male shopkeeper, she felt a tap on her shoulder and she jumped. It was a tiny shop, and the owner looked cross, alarmed, as if she might sweep away all the little boxes, the diamond engagement rings, the strings of pearls, by too much movement.

  ‘Hey, T,’ came a voice behind her. ‘Sorry we kept you.’

  She turned round. ‘Hey,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. ‘Are you OK?’

  He smiled. ‘More than OK, thanks. More than.’

  Tess looked out of the window onto the arcade; Francesca was standing outside, watching them through the glass. She raised her hand in greeting; her face was obscured by the reflection. ‘So-?’ Tess said curiously, trying to sound upbeat. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Tell you later, tell you later,’ Adam said, gesturing with his head. ‘Ah, but it’s good to see you, sweetheart.’

  They said goodbye to the elderly shopkeeper and Adam opened the shop door; just as he did, she turned, wanting to give him the present now, here. She held her hand out to him. ‘Ad-this is your Christmas present. It’s a bit early. And it’s not really for you-you’ll want to give it away. I just saw it and…’

  ‘Not for me, and I’ll want to give it away? Nice,’ Adam murmured. She laughed, but watched his face curiously as he pressed the catch and opened the velveteen box. He stared at the brooch, gleaming up at him, and then picked it up, turning it over questioningly, as she nodded encouragingly at him. ‘“Primula Brooch”,’ he read out loud. ‘Oh-T.’ He picked up the brooch. ‘That’s-’

  ‘It’s for you to give to your great-aunt. When you find her. Because I know you will find her,’ she said, squeezing his arm. ‘I know you will.’

  Adam stared at her. ‘Tess. You don’t know how much that means to me.’ He nodded.

  ‘S’OK,’ Tess said gruffly. He put his finger under her chin, and made her look at him.

  ‘What have I done to deserve you?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing,’ she whispered, thinking suddenly of Peter. Her heart was full of pain, full of love too, and she wondered just why she felt this way. She turned to see Francesca still watching them, and smiled at her.

  ‘That’s nice,’ said the shopkeeper, nodding his head, waggling his moustache. ‘But there are people waiting outside to come in, so if you don’t mind-’

  ‘Course,’ said Adam. He held the door open again, and Tess walked out. ‘That is the most fantastic present, T. I have got you something. But not here. Oh, man. I don’t know-’ He shook his head.

  ‘That’s what friends are for, like I keep saying,’ said Tess.

  Francesca said nothing as they came over to her. ‘Look what T got me,’ Adam announced. ‘It’s-’

  ‘Adam,’ Francesca said, and Tess noticed then that her face was very pale, her eyes full of unshed tears. ‘Can I have-can I speak to you?’ She looked over at Tess. ‘Alone?’

  ‘Of course,’ Tess said, answering for him. ‘I’ll just-I’ll wait here.’

 
‘Is that OK?’ Adam said to her in a low voice.

  ‘Don’t worry, go,’ she said. ‘In fact-’ She looked at her watch, trying to be completely blas?about this. Adam and Francesca-they were always going to be drama queens together. ‘Why don’t I just see you on the train? We’re right by Piccadilly Circus, you can just hop on the Bakerloo. I’ll go on ahead, but just in case you miss it-’

  ‘It won’t take that long,’ Adam said. He gripped her arm above the elbow for a second. ‘Honestly.’

  Francesca stood behind him, winding a section of her hair around her finger. ‘Bye, love,’ she said.

  Tess waved mutely at her. She watched them walk away, and stood for a moment looking down the arcade, at the twinkling lights, the silky ribbons and decorations. Then she turned, and walked back down to the street. At St James’s opposite, the carol concert was still going on. Loud, harsh chords in a minor key floated across to her; a glowing light shone through the windows. The streets were four, five people deep, all in black or dark coats, clutching shopping bags. No one was talking to each other. Everyone was alone, hurrying onto the next thing. She knew Adam wouldn’t catch their train. She realized she would have to go into the huge Waterstone’s to get a book; she had nothing to read. She should have known this was going to happen. Tess walked, feeling tired, but with a curious freedom. She was buffeted from person to person as the music sounded louder and, high above them, the clock chimed six in the black night air.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Having at first roundly decried the Knupfer House, Tess had to admit she was becoming more and more enamoured of it. It was a good decoration. It was always there: when you got back from London after a delayed train, starving and a little sad, the deliciously sweet and cinnamon biscuits gleaming toffee-brown in the dark. It was there when you crept downstairs the following day to find the house empty, and yourself rather miserable. And it was there if you fancied a wee mid-morning snack on Christmas Eve, as you wrapped your presents. Tess had sent her parents’ presents off with them on their cruise but now she was spending Christmas with her sister and Mike, and she still had a few other key people’s presents to wrap, too.

  She was still feeling rather blue. Her Christmassy mood had totally evaporated with Liz’s departure that morning for her parents’ house in Nantwich.

  Liz had been making Nigella’s Christmas muffins for breakfast and, as Tess came downstairs, blearily rubbing her eyes, she had excitedly thrust into her hands two wrapped presents and a tray of bulbs: ‘For our garden, to brighten it up in spring, you know.’

  Tess had stared back at her. ‘Oh, God. Liz, I’ve only got you a card. Oh! And-’ She had shuffled round to the dresser, and pulled open a drawer. ‘Only this.’ She took out the Penhaligon’s perfume which she’d bought in the Burlington Arcade. ‘Happy Christmas, flatmate.’

  Liz had kissed her back. ‘No, happy Christmas to you, Tess.’ Her eyes shone with unshed tears. ‘This is wonderful,’ she said, eyeing the bag Tess handed her. ‘It’s all wonderful. Thank you so much.’

  ‘For what?’ Tess sat down at the table; her limbs were aching.

  ‘For everything.’ Liz pushed a pot of coffee towards her. ‘For teaching me so well. For letting me move in here. And for being a great friend.’

  At that, Tess’s head snapped up, and she laughed. ‘I’ve been a terrible friend!’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ Liz said firmly. ‘I think you’ve had a lot on your plate this year, and you’ve been great.’

  But I’m rude about you behind your back and I leave your parties early and I loathed showing you all round Rome, and I’m a bad person, Tess wanted to say. As if she were reading her thoughts, Liz handed her a mug.

  ‘You’ve had to do so much this last year, what with moving back down and starting a new job, and taking us all off to Rome. Not to mention,’ she said quietly, ‘everything with Adam.’

  ‘But that was him,’ Tess pointed out. ‘Nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s harder to watch and be powerless than to be in the eye of the storm,’ Liz said firmly. ‘At least you know where you are when you’re in the eye of the storm.’ Tess stared at her, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘Being on the sidelines, watching someone and not being able to help them, if you truly love them-that’s hard.’

  She opened the oven door; a moist, sweetly spicy scent wafted towards Tess. She breathed in deeply. ‘I suppose that’s partly true,’ she said. ‘But it’s still been much easier being me than-oh, any number of people.’

  ‘And another thing,’ Liz said, plonking the muffins down on top of the stove so that the metal clattered loudly on the hobs. ‘I think it’s hard, being our age. How old are you?’

  ‘Well, I’m thirty-one,’ Tess said. ‘Old enough to know better.’

  ‘That’s my point,’ Liz said thoughtfully. ‘That’s a year younger than me. And you have this job of responsibility, where you have to be a grown-up and tell people what to do. I think that’s hard. It makes it hard to be normal. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I don’t feel grown-up, it’s pathetic. How am I going to meet someone or bring up children when I don’t know what a spark plug is, or a hedge fund, or-’

  ‘Can you change a lightbulb?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Liz. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And do you know what your bank account number is?’

  ‘Well, of course I do.’

  ‘Well then,’ said Tess. ‘I think you’re better off not knowing what a hedge fund is, to be frank, and I have no idea what a spark plug does. Something in the car. Don’t worry about it.’ She stared hopefully at the plate of muffins. ‘That’s what I’ve learned over the past year. You make mistakes, you learn from them, and you try and move on.’ She poured her flatmate a cup of coffee. ‘And while you can cook like this I wouldn’t worry. I will always want to live with you.’ She clanged her mug against Liz’s. ‘Happy Christmas, my dear. Thank you.’

  ‘Oh, dear Tess,’ said Liz, growing misty-eyed again. ‘Thank you.’ She put a great chunk of muffin in her mouth; it was too large, and it crumbled, small chunks falling onto her plate. Tess laughed.

  ‘Owhse agam.’ Liz said something indistinct.

  ‘What?’ Tess said. Liz tried to swallow, but got a fit of the giggles.

  ‘Owhse agam!’ she said again.

  ‘Masticate,’ Tess said, enunciating clearly. ‘I can’t understand a word of what you’re saying, Elizabeth. Goodness, what are you, an animal? Chew it slowly.’

  Liz had tears of mirth streaming down her face. She swallowed, and cleared her throat, swallowed again and gulped some coffee. ‘I said, how’s Adam?’ she croaked eventually. ‘You never said. How was the shopping?’

  ‘Oh!’ Tess banged the table with the palm of her hand. ‘It was great. It was greatness. Great.’

  ‘Good!’ said Liz, eyeing her slightly oddly. ‘That’s great. Did you see Francesca?’

  ‘We did. It was great to see her,’ said Tess. She bit her lip, and nodded to herself, shaking herself out of the feeling of gloom she had felt on the train returning home alone. ‘It was just wonderful. She’s exactly the same. Brilliant. I love her.’

  ‘Uh-uh, uh-uh,’ said Liz, rather too quickly. ‘Wow, that’s just fantastic.’ She paused fatally. ‘Yes, I always really really liked Francesca. Seemed such a jolly, fun girl.’

  Tess looked at her, her heart flowing over with affection for her housemate. She paused before speaking carefully.

  ‘Oh, she is fantastic, and it was great to catch up with her and know we’ll stay in touch.’ She casually broke off a bit of muffin. ‘But it was super nice to get home again, know what I mean?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Liz, also casually. ‘Yep, really sure know what you mean.’ There was a thump on the sitting-room floor. ‘Christmas cards!’ she cried ecstatically, and rushed to collect them. ‘We’ve got-one, two…four, five! Look, there’s one from Francesca!’ she called, coming back into the kitchen. ‘Ah, wonderful!’
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  ‘Oh, I’ll read it later,’ said Tess. ‘Do you want me to check the water in your car before you go?’

  ‘Actually, that would be great,’ Liz said, shamefacedly. ‘Show me how. Have un autre muffin.’

  ‘Merci.’

  Later that morning, after Liz had driven off, Tess sat, surrounded by wrapping paper, carefully cutting strips of sellotape to stick on the edge of the table, having already got herself stuck to the wrapping paper or the present a couple of times. She’d been to Jacquetta’s shop and bought, at vast expense, some appropriate trimmings for her presents. It had taken her hours to do her parents’ gifts a few weeks ago, and she was dreading round two. She was playing the Messiah to get her in the right festive mood, but couldn’t find the first CD. So not for her was there a happy soloist telling of shepherds abiding in the fields, and the people walking in darkness seeing a great light, to say nothing of a happy chorus singing ‘For Unto Us A Son is Born’. No, it was all ‘He Was Despised and Rejected’ and Jesus being crucified, not baby Jesus being born in a friendly yuletide manger with ox and ass and…Tess sighed, wrestling with Miss Store’s bottle of sherry and box of chocolate Olivers, as the two bits of sellotape she had carefully removed from the table got stuck together.

  Francesca’s card was on the side. Tess looked fondly at the sloping black italic handwriting. Fine, that she and Adam were back together again, and it really was good, because she loved her, and it meant that she, Tess, would see more of her. She felt awful for doubting it, just because of what had happened before. They had changed, and they both knew what they were doing; he was different, bless him. He deserved happiness: that was all she asked for him. She bit the card and tore open the envelope with one finger.

  Darling Tess,

  Forgive my behaviour yesterday! I had to write and tell you that the fact is, Adam and I are-

  There was a loud banging on the door. Tess put her hand on the floor and pushed herself up, inadvertently sticking two other pieces of tape to a large sheet of tissue paper, which flapped around in her hand, tearing as she tried to pull it off.