by Julia Wild
Chapter Thirty-Three
Izzie
West Hampstead, New Year
On the train to West Hampstead, Izzie ran through her mental checklist. She’d had a couple of valuations on the bungalow – they had both described the décor as fresh and appealing, and Izzie wondered what her nan would think of it. She imagined her saying, ‘Oh, it’s a bit plain, Izzie. It needs jazzing up a bit…’ She chuckled to herself, loved that she could still have those internal conversations with Nan.
She’d told the agents she would let one of them know when she was ready to put the property on the market. It was going to be difficult to part with because of the link to Nan and Grandpop. She could take her time though, and there was still a niggle inside that part of her didn’t want to sever the connection. The bungalow would give her the ability to return to Blackpool, should she wish.
But for now, she forced her thoughts onward and looked forward to joining her work family of friends in a couple of days.
She’d been thrilled that Justin had texted her a selfie of himself at the airport when he reached Auckland on the 29th December. She hadn’t really known whether he would keep in touch.
Since then, they’d exchanged short, funny texts every day or so and Izzie had let him know she had left the north for London.
On reaching Farley Road, Izzie gathered up the post and then opened the back doors and windows to let some air through. The first thing she unpacked was her nan’s notebook; she laid it on the desk in her office and ran her fingers gently over the linen-textured outer cover, then opened it up to reveal the inside page of mementos, her gaze resting on the small pencil sketch of a beautiful young woman, curls framing her features, a slight smile playing on her mouth…
It was stunning, Izzie thought, the notebook’s inner cover and pages like a work of art. The secrets it held inside, the moments shared, purely because those secrets and those moments could not be shared with any other person. They were only safe confined within the pages of the diary, and so it had taken on the personality of a confidant.
She opened the bottom, deep drawer of the desk, and laid the notebook carefully inside, where she could take it out and pour over it when she felt the need to connect with her nan.
Izzie reflected on what a gift it had been to have such an insight into her nan’s life. She would keep it safe, and keep the notebook’s secrets safe, as her only confidant had been Justin. She had no wish to share it with anyone else.
The time at the bungalow had helped her to face – honestly face – the fact that there had been glaring cracks in her marriage to Rufus; that whilst morphing her own life to keep her promise of commitment to him, she had floundered personally, lost her identity, lost sight of her dreams, and her self-confidence had been worn down as a result. Writing down those details with pure honesty as she recollected them had helped to relieve the burden of guilt. Her own notebook – cataloguing her own emotional recovery – inspired by Nan’s precious journal.
The magic of the bungalow had helped to heal the emotions of guilt and loss. The time spent at Nan and Grandpop’s home had given her the chance to reset in the safest place she’d ever known. Now, she was feeling happier and actually looking forward to getting back to her life, back to her dreams.
The time she had shared with Justin had also been wonderful, a balm to her emotions.
It was a cold evening and Horace, the neighbour’s cat, peered at her through the French doors as if having returned from his adventures to welcome her back. Collecting some cat treats from the kitchen, she went out to make a fuss of him until he gave her a look that said he’d had enough and wandered off. It was a lovely garden – a bit overgrown, but lovely. A green oasis in a leafy residential road. The whole tree-lined street had that feel about it.
She remembered that her neighbour, Vinnie, had volunteered to keep the garden tidy, said he preferred it to his, which was smaller. Returning indoors, out of the cold, she grabbed a notepad and wrote herself a to-do list.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Izzie
London, Monday January 7, 2018
The offices were set back from the road and a small, leafy garden softened the edges of the low building.
‘Hi! How fabulous to see you!’ Eddie’s booming, welcoming voice filled the open plan DAS offices and pretty soon Izzie’s work pals had left their desks and joined them in the reception area, noisily happy to see her.
‘I didn’t realise how much I missed you all.’ She felt moved by the welcome. ‘The offices are lovely as ever.’
Ruby grinned and gave Izzie a great big hug. ‘You look great – bit of a tan going on there, Mrs?’
‘Sea breezes do that.’
‘Great! Have you got plans for lunch? We’ve got so much catching up to do!’ Annette, Jamila and Portia all chirped up at Ruby’s suggestion and they agreed they should have lunch in the canteen and catch up.
‘Well, it’ll have to wait a while.’ Eddie nodded towards a visitor arriving at reception. ‘Izzie has a meeting with our client.’
The others dispersed as Eddie guided Izzie and the client, author Derek Farrell, into their meeting room.
The meeting went on for several hours and Eddie and Izzie discussed what would be the quickest way to transcribe and format Derek’s voice recordings and intermingled notes in order to meet an unexpectedly tight deadline for another in his series of crime books; there was also talk that his books looked likely to be optioned for a TV series, Derek told them. Because of all her work for Rufus in the same vein, Izzie was the obvious choice for the transcription task.
After the meeting, Eddie and Izzie sat down for a debrief.
‘I enjoyed that, I love the brainstorming bit where everyone chips in and you get a result that suits all of us!’
‘It’s rewarding isn’t it? And you’re okay putting your admin cap back on?’
‘Absolutely. You know, I never realised how much I miss everyone and the work, too.’
‘Well…’ Eddie tilted his head to one side slightly. ‘It’s good to have you back on board. We’ve plenty of demand for your skills. Ruby asked if you could help her with the costumes for Norma Normandez for her big night at the O2 at the end of her two-year Goth tour.’
‘Really? Wow, I’m flattered. I love the variety.’
At that moment, Ruby, all long dark hair and red lips, walked past the glass walled office doing very obvious side-eyes so she could see whether their client had finished and left yet.
Eddie laughed and nodded towards Ruby, used to her outrageous behaviour. ‘I think Ruby and the crew are wondering whether you’re free or not yet.’
Izzie laughed with him.
She realised just how isolated she had become over recent years.
‘Did you finish work on your nan’s bungalow?’
‘I have, yes. I haven’t quite worked up the courage to put the property on the market yet though. I’m finding that thought a wrench. Are you coming to the canteen?’
‘I’ll join you all for a few minutes and a quick cuppa, then leave you to it.’ He grinned and gestured she should move out of the room in front of him. ‘Even if you decided to live back up north, Izzie, you could always work remotely. There’s a few of our number now that do. They come up for monthly meetings, make the best of both worlds.’
She smiled and thanked Eddie, but didn’t really take his comment on board. She was back home now, she thought.
Izzie had the most wonderful afternoon in the small café-style canteen with her workmates. There was so much laughter, so many questions. She showed them the before and after photographs of the bungalow she’d taken, photos of the sea and the beach at Blackpool. Eagle-eyed Ruby spotted a photo Justin had taken of the two of them when they were all dressed up to go to Mike and Janey’s wedding reception.
‘Oh! He’s a bit tasty! Are you seeing him?’
Laughing, Izzie shook her head. ‘No. We’re friends, have been right back from our early teens. He wor
ks out of the country a lot of the time as he’s a wildlife photographer and sometimes a celebrity snapper.’
Ruby screwed up her eyes. ‘He looks familiar…’
‘Justin Swift,’ Izzie offered. ‘His old mate was getting married that day,’ she said as she pointed to the snap.
‘Well, wow, that’s a fabulous photo.’ Annette held Izzie’s phone and studied it, then when she handed it back, caught sight of the canteen clock. ‘We need to get back to work!’
Annette, Jamila and Portia said they had to go and finish their projects.
‘Before you go, ladies, shall we?’ she said, holding up her phone. Izzie took a selfie of them all squashed around the table, then, to much noise and promises to have lunch again during the week, and hugs all around, the three of them got back to their desks.
And then there was just Izzie and Ruby.
‘I’m done for the day.’ Ruby beamed and waggled her head. ‘Came in at six this morning! Well?’ Ruby folded her arms, then gestured towards Izzie’s phone. ‘The way he’s looking at you, I wouldn’t be letting him go anywhere without me!’
Izzie shook her head, then did a double take at the photograph. ‘Nah, Justin’s used to dating glamorous types.’
‘Looks to me as if he’d like an Izzie type!’
She laughed, but Ruby’s observation made her think, had drawn her attention to the warmth in Justin’s eyes.
It reminded her of the day at the dunes, when she’d photographed him and somehow – accidentally – caught a fantastic and telling expression. She hadn’t really studied this one of the two of them further than seeing it as a memento of a great night at Janey and Mick’s reception … and what had happened afterwards. She got herself under control and shrugged, repeated, ‘He works abroad a lot.’
‘So? You can work anywhere! Eddie always says as much.’
Izzie found herself nodding in agreement.
She could.
She tested that thought in another version of her life, how it might feel…
A life where her need to stay at home had softened into a maybe-I-could-travel litany.
One where she could be with the man she loved, and still do the work she loved, still see the colleagues she adored … and still have a home to return to, friends she could return to. But she knew now that dreams were fleeting, and often what looked perfect in a dream … well, it only worked if the other person felt the same way.
‘We have a past,’ she said. ‘Things changed between us.’ Grimacing, Izzie briefly explained, ‘We were an item when we were younger. We’re just friends now.’
Ruby did a fabulous, single eyebrow lift. ‘Really?’ Then she looked at her watch. ‘Oh bugger, I could talk all day, Izzie, but I’ve got Paul home soon and we’ve got something planned as he’s been offered a recording gig he’s been after for ages.’
‘Oh fantastic. No worries. I’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Oh! Yes! I’ll see you in the morning, then, Izzie?’
‘I can’t wait.’
‘I just wish you were coming home with me and we could keep on catching up all night!’
‘I don’t think we’d get any sleep,’ Izzie said. ‘Actually, I know we wouldn’t get any sleep.’ They’d spent many a night on the sofa, chattering until the dawn chorus reminded them they may need sleep – back when Izzie had shared a flat with Ruby.
‘And get here early enough to give me the low-down on everything!’
Izzie raised her hand in a gesture of agreement.
Laughing, they went their separate ways.
Arriving at West Hampstead, the tree-lined road, leafy front garden and peaceful oasis feeling of the house was comfortingly familiar. Vinnie had kept a good eye on everything.
Over the next few weeks, Izzie sent Justin the odd message and photos – some of her with her workmates, some at her West Hampstead home, and he responded with similar. She had a lot of fun at work and thoroughly enjoyed immersing herself in the design world once again, but with a newfound honesty she admitted that there was a hole in her life, something missing, and her thoughts regularly revisited the kisses she’d shared with Justin, the hot fling in the hotel.
She touched the bracelet he’d given her at Christmas, the crystals sparkling.
‘Oh, Justin.’ What she felt for him was so much more than friendship.
Izzie still hadn’t got around to putting the bungalow on the market. Someone had told her spring was a good time so she thought she’d delay until then, but even she was beginning to realise it was an excuse. She missed walking on the front, the sea air and just about everything that she’d enjoyed there.
Mostly she missed Justin.
She realised now that all those emotions she had ruthlessly cut off … well, they still existed. All that love she’d felt for him … it still burned strong.
Sure, they’d had a fling, but she was pretty sure he only wanted friendship now. Even the bracelet he’d described as a kind of friendship bracelet. She knew for sure though – she wanted far more than friendship. And so, she set in motion another huge life-change, her mind made up after so much soul searching.
She was going to sell up.
It was early February when she returned home from work to find a large, fat envelope, the edges slightly battered where it had just barely fit through the letterbox. She carried the package and dropped it on her desk.
Inside, a solicitor’s letter was held in place by a band and Izzie immediately recognised the name of the firm as the one who dealt with Rufus’s estate:
Dear Mrs Dean,
* * *
Our financial department has today made a transfer of funds to the following account. This represents a refund of an amount lodged with us by the late Rufus Dean to handle several personal residual matters after his demise.
* * *
Also enclosed is a letter and package that Mr Dean asked we forward to you at the same time as we present this final statement, which he requested and understood would be around two years after he died.
* * *
This letter concludes our dealings for your late husband’s estate, but should you require any information or assistance in the future, please do not hesitate to contact us.
* * *
Yours…
Vaguely, Izzie wondered what the personal residual matters had been, but her attention was drawn to the plain white envelope immediately beneath the solicitor’s note.
‘Izzie’ was printed on the front.
Curious and a bit nervous for a reason she couldn’t christen, she tore it open.
My Dear Izzie,
* * *
I owe you an explanation. I asked my solicitor and dear friend, Lester, to send this on a couple of years after I pass. I hope that by holding this back until that time, you will be able to forgive me for the terrible thing I have done. Or at least try to understand.
* * *
One of the first things you did when you began to work regularly in the afternoons for me in February 2011, was to note in our online diary that you’d booked off the 11th and 12th August as holiday, visiting Blackpool on your birthday you told me when I asked. Meeting Justin, your long-distance young man, you said, the two of you intended to plan your future together.
* * *
Later that month, I convinced you it made sense for you to move into the upstairs apartment, because my previous tenant had moved out, and the friend you shared with, Ruby, was moving into her partner’s house. You were actively looking for a place to rent – so it was the easy answer.
* * *
I couldn’t bear to let you go to Justin; I was afraid of losing you. I knew I didn’t have long, and because I knew I was becoming more unwell, I took the conscious decision to hide his letters when they began to arrive during late March, 2011, when you had been working part-time for me for a few weeks and had finally agreed to move upstairs. It was easy to pick up the post each morning whilst you were out working elsewhere. The lockable letter cag
e I’d had installed when I’d had a pup years ago made it even easier to continue to monitor the post.
* * *
I had looked for so long for someone I could work and live closely with, who I could trust to take on the role that you did so ably for me. Wife, secretary, assistant, carer, friend and everything in between.
* * *
You were all those things and I thank you.
* * *
I know what I’ve done is wrong. I thought only of myself but I have no regrets.
* * *
I thought about destroying the letters but decided against it. Yet I couldn’t have them at home where you might come across them by accident.
* * *
You had spoken freely about your relationship with Justin and when the letters arrived, I read them because I needed to know whether he was a threat to my plans. I knew I needed you more than Justin did, but from what you’d said of him I didn’t think I’d win you in any fair battle.
* * *
Perhaps unfairly, I thought whatever plans you were meeting up to make could be postponed to my benefit. The little phone you used to text and call one another, you thought you’d lost it, but I’d hidden that too in case Justin contacted you on it. He did. Many times. I didn’t respond and eventually removed the battery. Any minor guilt I entertained was dealt with by replacing the mobile with a top of the range model I explained was ‘to go with your new job.’