The Home

by Karen Osman

‘Right, I think that’s everything for now,’ confirmed Mr Redding. ‘Did you have any other questions before I get the nurse to do your blood tests?’

  ‘No, Doctor, thank you,’ replied James, about to get up from his chair.

  Rosemary didn’t move and out of the corner of her eye, she saw James hesitate and could almost hear him groan inwardly. While he just wanted to get in and out of their appointments as quickly as possible, Rosemary felt the need for more answers.

  ‘I know there are no guarantees, but can you at least give some indication on survival rates with cancer of this type?’ she asked now.

  ‘As I’ve said before, Mrs Steele, it’s very hard to tell. But look at the positives; James is healthy, this is his first major illness, and we caught it early—’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ interrupted Rosemary, having heard it all before and not caring any more that she might be coming across as rude. ‘But what I’d really like to know are the chances of survival. There must be something you can share with us?’

  ‘Yes, there are statistics, but I just don’t know how helpful they will be to you.’ He sat back in his chair, fingers interlinked, confident in his position of authority.

  Rosemary waited, making it clear she wasn’t moving until she’d got something out of him.

  ‘OK, if you insist. Almost fifty per cent of people survive for at least five years after diagnosis.’

  No one spoke and Rosemary wondered what James was thinking.

  ‘As I said, Mrs Steele, the best we can do is keep going with the treatment and stay positive,’ chastised Mr Redding.

  Rosemary nodded, still trying to take it in. Five years?

  ‘Now, blood tests, Mr Steele,’ said the consultant, picking up the file. ‘I have your blood type listed down here somewhere. Ah, here we go – O negative. Mrs Steele, are you aware of your blood type? You also have a daughter, don’t you? It’s always useful to have immediate relatives on file, just in case.’

  ‘I’m A,’ replied Rosemary, ‘and our daughter is O negative. She’s our adopted daughter, though.’

  ‘I see. Right, Mr Steele – the nurse will take you now for your blood tests. I’ll see you for a follow-up in a month’s time.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ replied James, standing up and firmly taking his wife by the hand.

  34

  Evelyn

  ‘And then he barged into me as he walked past. Well, I say it was he, I didn’t manage to get a look at the face. He was wearing one of these hoodie things.’

  ‘Bloody awful, what goes on these days,’ said Brenda. ‘Hooligans, the lot of them.’

  ‘Thought he was after my bingo money,’ added Evelyn. ‘And there was no way I was going to give that up!’

  ‘We need every penny we can get these days,’ agreed Brenda. ‘Your estate seems to be getting worse, Evie, what with the murders opposite your flat and now almost being mugged. You need to get on to the council again about getting a flat in a better area.’

  As Evelyn settled herself onto Brenda’s sofa (also new, she noted enviously) with a cup of tea, she knew she was right. But what could she do? She’d tried with Alan, but they were both aware it was a complete waste of time.

  Brenda had moved on to complaining about the increase in price of British Rail season tickets. She had a son, Neil, who lived up in Manchester. He had met and married a girl from there, much to his mother’s disappointment, and she had been on the receiving end of her friend’s utter incredulity that anyone would want to move to a place full of depressed people who owned ferrets. Still, despite her constant emotional wrangling with her son to move back to London, Brenda had bitten the bullet and visited – she’d had to if she wanted to see her beloved grandson, Daniel, and now regularly travelled on the train to that place where people were too friendly for their own good. Evelyn rarely left London and was quite happy for it to stay that way, but she enjoyed hearing Brenda’s stories. She wondered what it must feel like to have a grandchild. Angela didn’t have children, but if she did, would that make her a grandmother? Biologically, yes… but being as she didn’t have a relationship with Angela, it was unlikely she would ever get to meet a grandchild.

  ‘Earth to Evelyn!’

  Evelyn snapped out of her reverie.

  ‘Have you had a cheeky tipple this morning, Evie?’ asked Brenda. ‘You seem a bit out of it – it’s early even for you!’ she joked.

  Evelyn had in fact had a quick shot before she left the house. It had taken a while for her to get to sleep and when she did, she had nightmares about a faceless stranger chasing her with knives. Evelyn had slept with a chair wedged against her bedroom door that night.

  ‘Of course not!’ she lied. ‘But you’re right – with everything going on, who could blame me?’

  Putting her empty cup on the coffee table, Evelyn reluctantly pulled herself up from the sofa.

  ‘Right, I best get off then, Brenda, otherwise Charlie will be wondering where I am. I’ll pick you up for bingo tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll be ready. Shall I order us a taxi back, so you don’t have to walk that last stretch on your own?’ asked Brenda.

  Evelyn was tempted. But then, that fiver would chip into her vodka money.

  ‘I’ll be OK,’ she replied. ‘He’s probably long gone now anyway.’

  ‘You’re probably right,’ reassured Brenda, seeing her out of the door. ‘Still, give me three rings when you get home, so I know you’ve made it.’

  ‘Will do, see you tomorrow.’

  *

  Whether it was because Evelyn was lost in her own thoughts or struggling to get the key in the door, she didn’t hear the tread of light footsteps as they slowly crept up behind her, watching her every move. The postman had already been before Evelyn left to go to Brenda’s, so she was curious about the letter that lay on the floor as she opened the front door. There was no stamp so it must have been hand-delivered. At first, Evelyn presumed it was a note from Doreen. But as she read the stark black letters, offensive against the cheap bright white paper, the stranger paused on the landing one floor below, watching and waiting.

  I KNOW WHAT YOU DID AND YOU WILL PAY.

  35

  Angela

  Angela hadn’t heard from Mitchell since they had gone out for a drink. Though she didn’t like to admit it, she was disappointed – and surprised – he hadn’t called. So, it was with curiosity and trepidation that she attended the meeting the following Tuesday evening. She was a few minutes earlier than usual and as Angela went to get herself a cup of tea, she noticed Mitchell hadn’t arrived yet. As she stood sipping her scalding drink, her glance kept going to the door, so she didn’t hear someone come up behind her.

  ‘Waiting for someone?’ murmured a voice, in her ear. She turned with a start and saw Leo. He was so close that she nearly spilt her drink over him.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ replied Angela, putting some distance between them. He was wearing the same red jacket he’d worn last time, the hood pulled up around his face. Did he ever take it down, she wondered. As he blatantly checked her out, he leant forward as if he was about to say something confidential.

  ‘So, you met your birth mother.’

  Angela stared at him.

  ‘Heard she used to be a druggie,’ he continued, his eyes shifting rapidly to the other arriving members, before coming back to land on Angela, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

  ‘And how would you know that?’ Angela asked curtly, her earlier suspicion turning to active dislike.

  ‘I have my ways,’ he smirked.

  I bet you do, you creep, thought Angela. But before she could respond, one of the members had interrupted their conversation to greet them and Leo took the opportunity to lope off, walking towards the circle of chairs. Susan called for the meeting to start and Angela deliberately chose a chair opposite Leo, so she could keep him in her line of vision. At the last moment, Mitchell discreetly slipped into a spare seat. Catching her eye, he winked at her in acknowledgeme
nt and Angela felt a thrill run through her. He was perhaps the best-looking man she had ever seen. He must have come straight from work again as he was wearing a navy-blue, single-breasted suit with a matching waistcoat underneath. Angela wondered whether he’d ask her out for a drink again and she found herself mentally hurrying the meeting along. She also needed to finish her conversation with Leo. When it finally drew to a close, Mitchell came over to her, as she hoped he would. They chatted for a few minutes, but when no invitation was forthcoming she took a deep breath and decided to ask him herself.

  ‘I’d love to Angela, but I already have plans to go to the gym tonight with a friend.’

  ‘Oh, right, no problem. It was just a thought,’ she replied, trying not to let her surprise show. A man had once cancelled a business trip just to have coffee with her. She wondered if he was making an excuse but then she saw the gym bag in his hand. He showed it to her, almost apologetically, the zip half open, the contents perhaps hastily shoved in.

  ‘Another time?’ he asked, turning to leave.

  ‘Of course!’ replied Angela. She didn’t think she had, but perhaps she’d misread the signals? Either way, it would give her more time in the office.

  *

  Angela peered around the corner of the street. It was dark and quiet; no one was around. Still, she would have to be quick. As she saw Leo approach, she snapped her head back out of sight. She counted to five before stepping out in front of him. He stopped abruptly in surprise.

  ‘Hello, Leo.’ She was at least a head taller and as she looked down on him, he glanced nervously around.

  ‘Nope, just me,’ said Angela. ‘We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation earlier.’

  ‘Dunno what you’re talking about,’ replied Leo, his nervousness now replaced with nonchalance.

  ‘No?’ replied Angela. ‘Something about my birth mother. What was it now? Oh yes, you said you heard she used to be a druggie. Now, my question to you, Leo, is how would you know that?’

  ‘Lucky guess,’ he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighter.

  In one swift move, she snatched the lighter from him, throwing it to the ground and pushed him hard up against the wall, her fingers around his throat.

  ‘Ow! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?’ he shouted.

  She put her sharp high heel on his foot, pressing firmly in warning while her grip intensified around his neck.

  ‘Listen, you little punk,’ she spat. ‘You so much as look at me or speak to me, and I will have the full weight of the law to bust whatever shady crap you’re up to. You understand?’

  He didn’t respond, and Angela pressed her heel harder. ‘Leo, I’m waiting.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he spluttered.

  Angela released her grip.

  ‘Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you, you psycho!’

  ‘If I were you Leo, I’d be very careful,’ warned Angela.

  He ran then, not even bothering to pick up his lighter and she watched him, satisfied he’d got the message, before turning on her heel towards the office.

  *

  It was almost eleven o’clock at night when Angela got home from work. Dropping her keys and bag on the hallway table, she saw her answer machine flashing. She pressed the playback button, then went to put the kettle on. She was desperate for a cup of tea and as tired as she was, she knew she needed a little downtime between the office and going to bed, otherwise she would lie there for hours, her mind going over and over the day, refusing to let sleep in. As the kettle boiled, Angela could hear the answer machine regurgitating its message, but she only heard the last part clearly.

  ‘It’s Mitchell, by the way.’

  As soon as she heard his name, she hurried through to the living room, quickly pressing the repeat button.

  ‘Hi, Angela, sorry about earlier. I was in such a hurry, I wondered if I came across a bit rude? If you’re free one night this week, do you fancy dinner? It’s Mitchell, by the way.’

  Despite her fatigue, Angela felt the excitement and, if she were honest, a tiny tingle of triumph that he’d called. She made a plan to call him back tomorrow morning. Or perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to keep him guessing a bit longer and leave it until the afternoon, she thought, as she got into bed. Smiling to herself, she fell asleep quickly, her tea forgotten.

  *

  Angela looked over the incredible views of the Thames, the lights glistening in the distance. She loved this city – well, the nice areas, anyway. She loved its anonymity and its eclecticism. You could reinvent yourself several times over and no one would bat an eyelid. And it was especially at these moments, satisfied with good wine, food and company, that she felt at her most powerful. It was all hers for the taking. Her ambition sometimes felt like a separate being, a mentor almost, urging her on to follow the path of success. You are not your past, it whispered. This is your time. Yes, it was tiring; yes, she had sacrificed personal relationships; but as she looked over at Mitchell, she felt it in him as well – a desire to win, to relish all the trappings that came with accomplishment. Angela had been on many dates to pubs and to coffee shops, but Mitchell had chosen to take her to The River Café. It had just recently opened and was currently one of the most talked-about restaurants in town. As they dined on wild sea bass and artichokes, the conversation flowed as easily as the crisp Italian white wine. They talked more about being adopted and he encouraged her to meet Evelyn again.

  ‘The first meeting I had with my birth mother was difficult, too. It was another year before I saw her again. I wished I hadn’t left it that long,’ admitted Mitchell.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘She still believes she was right to give me up for adoption,’ he said simply. ‘No regrets, whatsoever.’

  ‘That must have hurt,’ replied Angela.

  ‘It did, but over the years I’ve learnt to live with it. She had her reasons, I know, but still… Anyway, what has helped is being able to talk to her. While we’re not as close as I’d hoped, she’s an interesting and intelligent woman and I’m glad I persevered. The hardest thing was accepting her for who she is. Once I got past that, it was easier.’

  Angela thought about Evelyn. Did she want to give up so quickly? It wasn’t in her nature, and besides, it was important to her dad. Perhaps she would call Susan in the morning to ask her to set up another meeting.

  They also talked more about his work at Saatchi & Saatchi as a business development director. She knew a little about the world of advertising, mainly from the significant number of takeovers and buy-outs that had occurred as major corporations globally expanded. It was a topic he felt passionate about.

  ‘I’ve worked in advertising my whole career but over the last few years there has been so much opportunity,’ he replied when she had asked about his job as they tucked into their main course. She could sense he was keen to impress her. ‘I’m currently the youngest development director in the company,’ he continued.

  ‘So, you must work a lot then?’ asked Angela, with a flirty wink. ‘It’s not just me.’

  ‘Yeah, absolutely. But a lot of my job is entertaining clients so I’m often at dinners or having drinks in the evenings. It doesn’t really feel like work a lot of the time!’

  ‘Same here. But I also do a lot of research and support the partners with their clients. I’m hoping to get promoted soon,’ she added, conscious that she was also keen to impress.

  ‘Really? Well, that’s a celebration in itself and definitely worthy of another glass of champagne!’

  Angela had laughed at his spontaneity and now, as they walked along the Thames, she found herself hoping they would see each other again soon.

  ‘Are you sure it’s not too late to go back to the office?’ he asked as they walked.

  ‘No, it’s fine. Don’t worry, I’ll only be half an hour – I just need to finish preparing some paperwork for tomorrow and then I will take it directly to the client in the morning.’

  ‘Well, I’m wa
lking you back to your office then,’ he asserted. ‘No, I insist,’ seeing her about to protest. ‘Besides, you owe me,’ he winked.

  ‘Owe you?’ replied Angela. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘This,’ he whispered and with that, he gently leant down and kissed her. Afterwards, she’d sat at her desk as if in a dream. Mitchell had walked her to the office and even come up in the lift with her. His last kiss had been lingering.

  ‘Right, go or you’re going to be here all night,’ he had teased. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine, I don’t live far.’

  Forcing herself to concentrate, she pushed away the thought of Mitchell and got down to work.

  36

  Friday 4 November 1988

  Dear Diary,

  I’m shattered. Travelling to Tetbury at the weekends is tiring and the cold weather seems to have come earlier this year. I’m always relieved when the weekends are over and I’m back in London.

  A.

  Friday 11 November 1988

  Dear Diary,

  Evelyn and I look nothing alike. I wonder what she does all day. The estate was pretty run down. There were several blocks all linked and accessible from one central concrete area. The centre was quite a large open space and the architect probably imagined little old ladies sitting on the park benches gossiping, toddlers playing on the grass islands watched by their loving mothers, and polite, young teenagers playing basketball and tennis on the courts. The architect would have been disappointed. Gangs of young teenagers were smoking against a backdrop of graffiti-covered walls while the tennis and basketball courts remained empty with the exception of a trail of rubbish left by a few pickpocketing seagulls.

  A.

  Friday 18 November 1988

  Dear Diary,

  That kiss outside the office – I will always remember it. The way he stood tall and strong, his expression as he leant in – it was like something out of a film! So handsome and the look on his face – smitten!