by Camilla Way
The next day, Cleo is sitting at the kitchen table, her school textbooks laid out in front of her, while her mother makes dinner. It’s as if Daniel’s completely disappeared – he doesn’t even turn up on the gaming forum where they met. What if his dad has really hurt him this time? He could be badly injured and she’d never know. She doesn’t have an address for him and she hasn’t wanted to risk phoning him because he’d said his dad didn’t like him taking calls. Finally, however, last night in desperation she’d tried his number anyway, to be greeted with total silence – it didn’t even ring.
‘Lovey, can you move your school stuff, please? Dinner’s almost ready.’
Cleo blinks out of her reverie. ‘Yeah. Sorry.’ Her mother smiles at her, then turns back to the pan she’d been stirring, and Cleo watches her, realizing suddenly that there’s been something a bit different about her lately: a sort of distracted, dreamy air, a different sort of energy radiating from her. She frowns, something occurring to her that she’d let slip from her mind. ‘What happened with that guy you went on a date with a while ago?’ she asks. ‘Are you going to see him again?’
Her mum hesitates before turning back to her. ‘I have seen him, actually, a few times. Just for lunch, though.’
‘Oh, right. Do you like him then?’
She smiles. ‘Yeah, I do. I really do.’
Cleo thinks this over. ‘Am I going to meet him? What’s he like?’
Viv begins to lay the table. ‘Oh … would you like to? I mean, I don’t even know if it’s going anywhere yet … might be a bit soon.’
Cleo shrugs, her attention already drifting back to Daniel. ‘Whatever, I don’t mind.’
A few days later, Viv and Alek lie in his bed, listening to the pounding bass emanating from the flat next door. A siren wails somewhere in the direction of Brockwell park and a man on the street shouts, ‘Stop your crying, you miserable little shit!’ They turn to each other and laugh. She has been surprised to find that he laughs often, a grin suddenly breaking over his usually serious face, his eyes crinkling with amusement. She kisses him then lies on her back and they lapse into a sleepy silence.
She’s staring at a patch of damp in the left-hand corner of the ceiling, trying to decide whether it looks more like a whale or a rabbit, when Alek, who had been absent-mindedly stroking her wrist, turns to her, his eyes searching her face and says, ‘You look tired.’
‘I didn’t sleep well last night.’
‘No? Why not?’
‘Oh, another nightmare.’ She thinks about last night’s dream, which had been a particularly disturbing one. Declan had made an appearance, this time sitting on the old leather armchair in the living room with her, his pale blue gaze on her face while she’d listened to Ruby and Jack arguing upstairs. As before, there’d been that strange, creeping disgust and confusion that his presence seemed to instil in her. After she’d woken, breathless and soaked in sweat, she’d lain awake for hours. There was something she needed to remember about her neighbour; something that hovered at the periphery of her consciousness, but whenever she tried to focus on what it might be the panic and fear hit her, derailing her efforts.
Alek is considering her thoughtfully. ‘The colleague I told you about, who can help you, let me give you her number …’ He gets to his feet, prowling naked around the flat until he finds his phone. ‘Her name’s Miranda Auerbach,’ he says, tapping away at the keypad. ‘She has a private practice …’ Viv’s mobile bleeps from her handbag and Alek glances at her. ‘I’ve texted you her details. She will help you.’
‘Thanks.’ Viv smiles gratefully, though she knows she won’t be calling the therapist. Reluctantly, she gets up and begins searching for her clothes, her mind already on the café, realizing guiltily that she’s left Agnes rather in the lurch again. But as she starts to dress, Alek goes to her. Kissing her, he slowly shrugs the blouse back off her shoulders. She laughs, pulling away. ‘Alek, I have to go.’
He shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says. ‘You don’t.’
‘I do,’ she murmurs, even as the heat climbs inside her. ‘I need to get back to work.’ With a sigh of defeat, he watches her finish dressing.
As she picks up her coat she says with a half-smile, ‘My mother and Samar think you’ve bewitched me. They’re starting to worry.’
He looks at her, brow furrowed. ‘Why?’
She laughs, ‘Oh, nothing, I’m only joking. I mean, they’ve never met you, so you could be a mad axe murderer for all they know …’ She feels herself blush. They have not spoken yet about where this thing between them is going.
But he pulls on his T-shirt and shrugs. ‘Then I shall meet them. If that is what you want?’
She’s surprised. ‘Oh! Really? I mean, yeah, maybe.’
‘And your daughter?’ he asks. ‘I will meet her too?’
‘Well …’ she mulls it over. ‘I mean, I don’t see why not.’ Perhaps it would be a good idea. A low-key dinner around at hers, no big deal. It wasn’t as if he’d be staying the night. Just an easy, friendly, casual introduction over supper. After all, Cleo had shown an interest in meeting him. And it would be good to see Alek somewhere other than this strange little flat, to see how he transfers to her real life, to observe him amongst her family and friends. Maybe then he wouldn’t seem so unknowable to her. ‘I’ll think about it,’ she says lightly.
He smiles. ‘Good.’
Cleo trudges along the wet pavement. Last night she’d gone through all of Daniel’s emails and text messages, trying to find a clue as to why he’d disappeared with no warning. Perhaps he’d got tired of her, she thinks dejectedly; perhaps he’d found another girl who was prettier, or funnier, more intelligent. But she had liked him, and he had liked her, she was sure of it, and she can’t help feeling worried about him. With every step she feels sadder, and then, just as she reaches her house she hears a car engine growling behind her and turns to see her mother pulling up to the kerb.
‘You OK, love?’ Viv asks, getting out and gazing at her in concern. ‘You look upset.’
Cleo shrugs. ‘I’m all right.’
‘Sure?’ Her mother puts her hand on her shoulder, eyes searching her face.
Cleo hesitates. Suddenly she has had enough of it all. Enough of worrying about Daniel and whether his dad has hurt him, about the letters she found in Stella’s room and keeping them secret from her mum, of the gap that has grown between her mother and her without Viv even knowing, the gap between the person she was and the person she is now. In a sudden rush she blurts, ‘It’s just …’
But they’re interrupted by Neil crossing the road towards them. ‘Hello, ladies,’ he says.
‘Hi, Neil,’ her mother says vaguely, her gaze still focused on Cleo. ‘How are you?’
‘Actually, I’m glad I caught you both.’ He turns to Cleo, fixing her with his eager little eyes. ‘Was wondering when you wanted to come round and use my Xbox, Cleo. Seems a shame to have it sitting there gathering dust. Why don’t you come over some time and see if you can beat me at Mario Cart?’
Before her mum can speak, Cleo mumbles, ‘I’m not into gaming much any more.’ She turns away and walks on towards the house, letting herself in with her key without saying goodbye.
Viv looks at her departing back in surprise. There’s no way she’d have allowed her thirteen-year-old daughter to spend time alone with a man who, all said and done, she barely knows, but there were nicer ways to decline an invitation. ‘I’m so sorry, Neil,’ she says, turning back to him. ‘It’s so kind of you to offer, I think Cleo’s feeling a bit out of sorts today …’
He waves her words away. ‘Quite all right, no need to apologize. The offer’s there if she wants it.’
‘We must have you round for a coffee sometime though and let us return your hospitality.’ She smiles as she moves away.
‘As a matter of fact, I’m glad to have a moment alone with you,’ he says quickly. ‘I’ve been meaning to say this for a while …’ he breaks off and smiles br
oadly at her. ‘Look, Viv, I think you and I should bite the bullet and go out for dinner, don’t you?’
‘Bite the …?’ She stares back at him, lost for words.
He rolls his eyes indulgently. ‘Let’s be grown-ups about this and take the plunge, shall we? Don’t get me wrong, the flirting’s been good fun, but I think it’s time we acknowledged what’s going on between us and did something about it.’
She holds up a hand. ‘Neil, please. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.’
‘Nope – not on my part, anyway. You’re still a very attractive lady you know, Vivienne.’
She lets out a gasp of shocked laughter.
‘What I mean is, I usually go for younger women, but on this occasion I’m more than happy to make you the exception.’
She presses her lips together in silence. ‘Well, that’s very kind of you, Neil,’ she manages at last. ‘Thank you. I think I should tell you though that I’ve recently started seeing someone. So, um …’
‘Have you?’ He stares at her in amazement. ‘Oh, right. OK, fair enough. I mean, I won’t tell if you won’t.’
‘Right. The thing is, while I’m flattered, I’m afraid I’m not interested in you in that way.’
‘Oh.’ He looks at her in stunned disbelief.
‘Anyway, I’d better go in now, get dinner started …’ Viv gives a final apologetic smile before gently closing the door in Neil’s bewildered face.
Once safely in her kitchen, she slams around irritably for a while, throwing the ingredients for dinner on to worktops, tugging saucepans from cupboards. ‘More than happy to make me the exception,’ she mutters. ‘Bloody cheek!’
She goes to the foot of the stairs and calls her daughter down.
‘What is it?’ Cleo asks when she appears in the door.
‘Nothing … I just wondered if you’d like to have a chat. You looked like you wanted to say something earlier.’
But Cleo shakes her head and turns away. ‘It’s nothing. I’m fine. I’ve got to call Layla about our maths homework.’ And with that she disappears, her mother staring thoughtfully after her.
Later, Vivienne phones Stella. ‘I was wondering if you would like to come round for dinner next Saturday,’ she says.
Her mother’s voice is distracted, Radio 4 babbling loudly in the background. ‘How lovely. What’s the occasion?’
‘Oh, nothing special … I thought I’d invite Samar and Ted, and … maybe Alek too.’
‘Alek? So you’re introducing him to Cleo already, are you?’
‘Well, I’ve been seeing him a while. Cleo said she’d like to meet him, so I thought, why not?’
When this is met with a disapproving silence, Viv sighs, ‘Mum, I don’t know what your problem is, but I like him a lot. Things are going well between us, can’t you just be happy for me? Are you going to come for dinner or not?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I am, don’t be so uppity, darling. I’ll see you on Saturday.’
At least Samar’s reaction is more positive. ‘Of course we’ll come,’ he says excitedly when she calls him. ‘Ted’s dying to meet him too. Can’t wait.’
11
The following Saturday, Vivienne pours herself a glass of cold white wine and begins to prep her ingredients for that evening’s meal. From the moment she got up that morning, everything had seemed to go wrong. First Stella had called to ask if she could bring Shaun, taking huge offence when Viv had told her no, then her supermarket delivery had arrived incomplete, forcing her to make a panicked last-minute dash to the shops. To top it all, Cleo had been sulky and odd all day, with no sign that she was going to cheer up before their guests arrived. Grumpily she begins to season and chop the fillets of haddock and salmon for the fish pie she’s planning to make, wishing that she could just cancel the whole damn thing.
At last she puts the finishing touches to the pie and slides it into the oven. She sighs and checks her watch: 7.52 p.m. She has exactly eight minutes to get ready. A fresh wave of nerves hits her and, glancing at her empty wine glass, she pours herself another helping before hurrying upstairs.
Alek arrives first. He’s dressed in his shabby coat and threadbare shirt, but looks, she thinks, extraordinarily handsome standing there on her step, a bottle of wine in his hand. They kiss, briefly, before she ushers him in. As she leads him through to the kitchen she waits for the usual effusive compliments about how lovely her home is, before realizing with a smile that Alek is not the sort of guy to even notice, let alone be at all impressed by such things. Instead he’s standing in her kitchen, looking decidedly ill at ease.
‘You OK?’ she asks, going over to him.
‘Of course,’ he nods. ‘Certainly.’
She gazes at him with concern, feeling his tension, and wonders once again whether this had all been a very bad idea. ‘OK, I’ll get Cleo,’ she says lightly. ‘I warn you though, she’s in a bit of a mood today. Hormones, I guess. She’s really very sweet though, so don’t hold it against her.’
He reaches over and rubs her shoulder and smiles at last. ‘It is OK, Vivienne. Everything will be fine.’
‘I know, sorry.’ She exhales and returns his smile. ‘I’m sure it’ll be OK. I’ll go and call her down.’
To her relief, Cleo is polite and chatty when she meets Alek, immediately firing questions at him about his job. ‘What’s it like anaesthetizing someone? Aren’t you worried you’ll accidentally give them too much and they’ll never wake up? What’s the goriest operation you’ve seen? Have they ever put the wrong bit back in the wrong place?’
Viv laughs. ‘Cleo! Give him a chance to answer, and stop being so morbid!’
But though Alek smiles, and answers her questions with good humour, Viv can’t shake the feeling that his mind is elsewhere, and she feels a tug of disappointment that her mother might not see the best of him. Stella has always been so pessimistic about her having boyfriends she’s keen to prove her wrong. When she hears Samar and Ted ring the doorbell five minutes later she answers it hoping that their arrival might loosen him up a bit, and, to her relief, it seems to do the trick at first. Her two friends walk into the kitchen on a wave of good-natured energy, shaking Alek’s hand with enthusiasm, and as Cleo entertains them all with a story about how her drama teacher was caught snogging her football coach, Viv at last begins to relax.
She goes back to her cooking, then begins to lay the table before realizing that she’s forgotten to offer her guests a drink. She glances over at Alek. ‘Would you like a …’ but she breaks off when she sees the expression on his face. Her daughter is sorting through a stack of CDs and Alek is staring at her with a look of such intensity that he appears utterly oblivious to the world around him. ‘Alek?’ she says, her voice faltering, then has to repeat his name more loudly before he turns around.
‘Sorry,’ he says, his smile in place once more. ‘What did you say?’
She stares at him a beat or two, before replying, ‘I just wondered what you’d like to drink.’ She turns away to fiddle with something on the stove, trying to still the disquiet that has bloomed in her chest.
‘I’ll sort the drinks out, if you like?’ Ted offers.
She nods gratefully. ‘Thanks, love, there’s a nice Sancerre already open in the fridge, or there’s some red on the side.’ Perhaps Alek is feeling nervous, she tells herself while she seasons the soup she’s made. Perhaps he’s missing his own daughter. But she’s uneasy that he should have been looking at Cleo in such a peculiar manner.
The doorbell rings again and Cleo hurries off to answer it, reappearing almost immediately with Stella. Her mother sails in wearing a voluminous coral-coloured dress, her hair freshly dyed a rich hennaed red, her many bangles clanking together on her arms, injecting the air with her distinctive spice-and-floral scent. ‘Hello!’ she cries, hugging Samar and then saying to Ted, ‘How lovely to meet you at last! Isn’t this nice!’
‘Mum, this is Alek,’ Vivienne says, feeling unaccountably nervous.
&n
bsp; Alek steps forward and offers his hand, saying politely, ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Stella.’
Viv looks at her mother, expecting her to be as charming as she usually is when meeting new people, but Stella merely gives a brief ‘Hello,’ with a small, tight smile, before dropping Alek’s hand and turning back to the others.
Viv stares at her, astonished, then glances back to Alek apologetically. ‘I guess she’s a bit distracted,’ she says.
‘Of course,’ he murmurs. ‘Please do not worry.’
Stella is busy talking to Cleo. ‘And how are you, Cleo?’ she asks.
‘Fine,’ is the response, her frosty tone not lost on Viv. There is definitely something up between them – she resolves to ask Cleo about it later.
She sighs. The evening seems to stretch out before her interminably, but she makes herself smile brightly and says, ‘Let’s all sit down to eat, shall we?’
‘Darling, before we do, I want to tell you about the fabulous idea I’ve had,’ Stella says.
‘Oh?’ Viv says, ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s such a shame you didn’t feel able to include Shaun tonight, because he’s become such a good friend and he’s leaving us tomorrow.’
‘Is he?’ Vivienne tries to keep the delight from her voice.
‘Yes. It’s terribly sudden and sad, though thankfully he’s staying in the area. The main thing is, he’s looking for work.’
‘Right …’ Viv looks at her mother warily.
Stella’s fishing around in her bag for something. ‘Yes, and I had such a wonderful thought. You know I told you what a brilliant baker he is? I thought you could use his help in the café! He could make cakes for you and so on.’
‘Um … I already have a great—’
But Stella pulls out a Tupperware box and thrusts it at her. ‘He’s made a sample for you. It’s apple turnover. He said he hopes you enjoy it.’
Viv takes it reluctantly. ‘Mum, I—’
‘Go on, try it. He made it specially for you.’ She looks at Viv expectantly.