From Something Old

by Alexander, Nick

  She stretched out her arms, palms up, Shiva-style, and shrugged theatrically.

  ‘Gosh!’ I said. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ Lucy said proudly. ‘Ben tells me everything.’

  About ten minutes later, Ant rang the doorbell, so, on the doorstep, I checked to see if what Lucy had said was true. We’d reached the point in our separation where we could just about have a normal conversation.

  Ant confirmed that Joe was staying on to finish some jobs, but said he didn’t know anything about his living arrangements, or how long he was intending to stay. ‘He’s a twat, though,’ he told me. ‘I offered him the show flat and he said no. And it’s too late now, because it’s sold.’

  Once they’d gone, I felt a bit funny, so I sat in the lounge and tried to work out why. I had a strange feeling of butterflies in my chest – the physical sensation preceding the idea itself. But then it came to me.

  I thought about it all morning. The house was empty, and the rain continued outside, but instead of being depressed and lonely, I was feeling vaguely excited. And the more I thought about my idea, the more excited I felt.

  I tried to temper the sensation by forcibly telling myself that my enthusiasm was inappropriate. But it didn’t seem to work, and at two, after lunch, I caved and called Joe. When he failed to pick up, I grabbed an umbrella and walked round there instead. I found him in the garage, sorting through a pile of toolboxes.

  ‘Hey, Heather,’ he said, as I stepped beneath the shelter of the opened garage door and folded my umbrella. The rain was pattering on the wet drive, splashing my feet and drumming on the metal above my head. ‘I was just about to call you,’ he continued. ‘I wanted to finish up here first. What’s up?’ He looked better than when I’d last seen him. Less haggard, somehow.

  ‘Nothing much,’ I said, sounding, even to myself, as if I was lying. ‘I heard about you delaying your move, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ Joe said, peering into a box, rifling around, and pulling some kind of wrench from the depths, which he then set aside. ‘Did Ant tell you?’

  I shook my head. ‘Ben told Lucy, I think. And then Lucy told me.’

  ‘No secrets at all,’ Joe said, grabbing a rag and wiping the grease from his hands.

  ‘Did you find somewhere to stay?’ I asked, doing my best to sound completely casual. ‘Lucy seemed to think that was something of a problem.’

  ‘Really?’ Joe said. ‘She told you that? Kids! Wow! I hope Ben’s not worrying about it.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘But maybe. So did you find anywhere?’

  ‘Yeah, kind of,’ Joe said. ‘They’ve got rooms at that B&B next to the pub. It’s a bit flaky, but for a couple of weeks, it’ll do.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. I took a deep breath and tried to choose the perfect tone of voice for what I was about to say. ‘So, I was thinking . . . Why don’t you just stay at ours?’

  Joe looked up from the toolbox. He smiled and frowned simultaneously. ‘Yours?’ he said.

  I shrugged. ‘We’ve got two spare rooms. You’re out all day anyway . . . Why not?’

  ‘What, like a lodger?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, exactly like a lodger.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said, and it looked to me like he was trying not to smile. ‘Would it . . . ? I don’t know . . . Wouldn’t that feel weird or something?’

  ‘Weird?’ I said. ‘I don’t see why. No weirder than knowing that you’re staying in some dodgy B&B while I’ve got empty rooms at mine.’

  ‘Right,’ Joe said. ‘Yeah, I don’t know . . . And Ant? What about him?’

  I shrugged. ‘What about him?’ I said. ‘I don’t consult Ant on anything these days. I’m not sure if you heard, but we separated.’

  We stared at each other for a moment, and then Joe averted his gaze and said, ‘Look . . .’

  I knew in that instant that he was about to say no. So though I was loath to say it, specifically because it was entirely untrue, I decided to use my trump card. ‘Maybe you could chip in a bit for bills or something,’ I said. ‘Not much, of course. But I could do with a little extra cash, if that works for you.’

  ‘Look, I . . .’ Joe said again. But then what I’d said registered, and he paused once again and looked back up at me. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Are things a bit tight, then?’

  ‘A bit,’ I lied. ‘Not really, but . . . you know . . . I’m only working part-time and kids are expensive, so . . .’

  Joe nodded thoughtfully. ‘It would only be for a couple of weeks, though.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘A couple of weeks would be great. It would be a sort of test, wouldn’t it? To see if having a lodger is a good idea after all.’

  Joe nodded. ‘I’m not any old lodger,’ he said. ‘You know I’ll drive you crazy, right?’

  ‘Well, if you do, then I’ll just have to poison you with my cooking.’

  He nodded slowly and then sighed. ‘Sure,’ he said casually. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Really? ’ I grimaced internally. I’d sounded far more enthusiastic than I’d meant to. I cleared my throat and forced myself to look suitably dour.

  ‘I guess I’d rather pay you than that scummy B&B owner,’ Joe said. ‘Are you really gonna cook for me?’

  I laughed. ‘Don’t expect the food to be up to Amy’s standards,’ I said. ‘But yes, I’m happy to cook.’

  Joe snorted. ‘That would be amazeballs,’ he said. ‘I’m knackered by the time I get home, and I’m sick to death of eating bloody ready meals.’

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘it’ll be a pleasure.’

  ‘And what about Ben?’ Joe asked. ‘You know he stays with me at the weekends, right?’

  ‘He can have the other room,’ I said. ‘It’s a bit bare, but there’s a bed, so he can have that if it suits you. And if he wants to bring some stuff and leave it, then that’s OK too. The girls will be thrilled to bits.’

  ‘If you’re sure you don’t mind, that would be great. Because Ben was my big worry as far as the B&B was concerned.’

  ‘And what about half-term?’ I asked. ‘Will he be staying with you – I mean, with us – at half-term?’

  ‘Half-term?’ Joe repeated. ‘Shit, when is that?’

  ‘Next week. All week.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Joe said. ‘Totally slipped my mind, that one. He was meant to be spending the week in Whitby with me, but of course I’m not going now.’

  ‘Well, he can always hang around at mine with the girls, if he wants.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Joe said. ‘That’s kind. I’ll, um, check in with him and see what he says. And you’re sure about all this?’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I said. I was feeling a bit trembly, so I decided it was best if I left. But as I turned to go, Joe spoke again, making me pause.

  ‘Would Thursday be OK?’ he asked. ‘For me, I mean. This Thursday?’

  ‘Sure. Thursday’s fine. Any day’s fine.’

  ‘Right then. And if you change your mind—’

  ‘I’m not going to,’ I told him.

  ‘Right,’ Joe said. ‘But if you do, then that’s OK.’

  ‘I’m really not going to.’

  Joe nodded. ‘OK, then. Cool.’

  I gave him a little wave, put up my umbrella and started to walk away, but once again he called me back.

  ‘Heather?’

  ‘Yes?’ I’d stepped beyond the shelter of the garage door, and the rain was pattering on my umbrella.

  ‘That’s . . .’ he said, and as he sighed, his face looked strange – sort of swollen.

  ‘Yes?’ I prompted again.

  ‘That’s really fucking nice of you,’ he said. His voice sounded like sandpaper.

  I smiled at him and then, just as he turned to resume sorting through his boxes, I thought I saw the glint of a tear in his eye.

  As I walked away, the image of kissing him that I’d first imagined while talking to Kerry popped up again, only this time I let the
image linger. I allowed myself to luxuriate in that thought, and it felt illicit but shockingly appealing. I wondered if there was any possibility such a thing could ever come to pass.

  Joe moved in, exactly as planned, late on Thursday evening. He arrived with a simple backpack that he carried straight up to his room, before returning downstairs for supper.

  As it was after nine thirty, the girls and I had already eaten, so to keep Joe company while he ate his reheated dish of pasta, I sat and sipped a glass of wine.

  He thanked me a couple of times for letting him stay, and I insisted that it wasn’t a problem. He apologised for not having got any cash out to give me yet, which embarrassed me. I wished that I could own up to the fact that I didn’t need his money at all, but it seemed to me that this would just embarrass us both, so I told him that for the moment I was fine, and that there really wasn’t any hurry.

  ‘It was weird locking up the house for the last time,’ he said. ‘Even weirder thinking about Ant moving in.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ I replied. I was having quite a complex mixture of feelings about the situation myself, so I could only imagine how difficult it must be for him.

  ‘But not weird the way you’d think,’ he added once he’d swallowed another mouthful of food. ‘Weird because I don’t seem to care as much as I should.’

  ‘Maybe it just hasn’t hit you yet,’ I said. ‘Sometimes these things take time to digest.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ Joe said. ‘I thought that. But maybe not. Maybe it’s just the right time for this, you know? Kind of like the end of a holiday?’

  I frowned. ‘The end of a holiday? I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘Yeah, you know how at the end of a holiday . . .’ Joe said, ‘. . . how you’re sad to have to leave, but also, kind of accepting of the fact you have to go? Because you just know that it’s . . . well, it’s just time, really, and this is what needs to happen next.’

  ‘Um, OK . . .’ I said vaguely. ‘I think I get what you mean.’

  ‘It’s a bit like what you said in Spain, actually,’ Joe said.

  I shook my head questioningly, so he continued.

  ‘About how we lie to ourselves, but how at some point you just have to look at what-really-is. And I’ve looked at what-is and sort of . . . assimilated . . . the new status quo, if that makes any sense? And now I’m ready to take on the next phase.’

  ‘I suppose the main thing is that you feel OK about it all,’ I said, thinking about the fact that he had remembered that conversation since Spain. I’d spent so much of my life being ignored, it came as a shock to realise that not only had Joe been listening, but he’d actually valued what I’d had to say.

  A noise from the hallway caught my attention, so I stood and crept to the kitchen door. Seated on the stairs were Lucy and Sarah, their little faces peering between the banisters.

  ‘And what are you two doing out of bed?’ I asked softly.

  Lucy looked up at Sarah and said, ‘Well, go on, tell her.’

  ‘We want to see Joe,’ Sarah said, on cue.

  ‘Hmm, all right, but not for long,’ I told them. ‘Tomorrow’s still a school day.’ I scooped Sarah up from the bottom stair and we followed Lucy into the kitchen. By the time we got there, she was already nattering away at Joe about how she’d helped me prepare his room.

  Sarah’s interest turned out to be in Joe’s story-telling capabilities, which she remembered, apparently, from Spain. But it was much too late for story-telling, and Joe was tired as well, and so, promising them stories at the weekend, I ushered them back upstairs to their bedrooms.

  By ten thirty, Joe had retired to his room as well, and if I’m honest, I was both disappointed and relieved by this – disappointed, because I’d been enjoying having some company, and relieved, because it made his presence in the house feel like that of a proper lodger. I’d been doing a pretty good job of convincing myself that this was all that was happening here, and so was happy he was adhering to the script.

  On Friday and Saturday Joe worked, meaning that the routine of that first night remained unchanged. He’d come home late from work, eat his dinner and then go to his room to read, while in the mornings he’d simply grab a cup of coffee before bolting out of the front door.

  On Sunday, though, Ben joined us, and this forced us together for the day. We shyly prepared and ate lunch together, and in the afternoon Joe drove us out to West Blean Woods for a walk. Not being able to drive, and with Ant no longer living with us, I hadn’t been anywhere for months. So it felt wonderful to get away from Chislet, and as the kids buzzed around us like wasps, we wandered along the footpaths and chatted, talking about Joe’s work and my past career as a nurse; about his father’s house up in Whitby and a dog he’d had as a kid.

  Out of the blue, Joe commented how strange it was that he and Ant had ended up swapping houses.

  ‘I suppose it is strange,’ I told him. ‘I mean, no matter how you look at it, it clearly is. But it actually feels perfectly reasonable.’

  ‘Really?’ Joe said, whacking some bushes we were passing with a stick. ‘Explain.’

  I thought for a moment, trying to work out what I meant, because I wasn’t that sure myself. ‘I suppose I just mean that it feels nice to have someone in the house,’ I said. ‘I’m sleeping better, for some reason, knowing you’re under the same roof.’

  ‘You miss having Ant around, I suppose,’ Joe said.

  ‘No, no, it’s not that,’ I told him honestly. ‘Things actually felt pretty stressful whenever Ant was in the house. His moods were so unpredictable . . . But with you, things just feel, I don’t know . . . easy, I suppose. You’re the perfect lodger, really, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m just such a great guy,’ Joe said sarcastically. ‘Perfect everything, me.’

  ‘Well, you may joke,’ I told him, ‘but I actually think that’s quite true.’

  ‘Right,’ Joe said. ‘Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.’ And then, as if the awkwardness of the moment, the sheer embarrassment of receiving a compliment, was too much for him, he chased off after Ben with his stick.

  As I watched them racing through the trees, I thought about the truth of my statement, and felt frustration at the sensation that Joe hadn’t really heard, or at any rate, hadn’t believed me. Because the more I knew him, the more I was realising just what an amazing man he was. He was gentle and funny and kind. He was strong and nurturing and capable. And as far as I could see so far, he had no real faults at all. I wondered if Amy had any understanding of the gem of a man she was letting go.

  Half-term came and went. Because the Whitby trip had been cancelled, Ben was now officially spending the week with Amy and Ant, but he kept turning up at ours instead. Amy and Ant were on a cleaning frenzy, by all accounts, and all he wanted to do was escape. Ben reported that Amy was ‘furious’ at how dirty Joe had left the place, something I rather doubted was true.

  Dandy/Riley’s preferences were seemingly the opposite – Ant kept dropping him off at ours, but as soon as Dandy could escape, he’d return to theirs, picking his way through the gardens. My suspicion was that he simply enjoyed annoying Ant.

  Joe worked all week and continued to turn in pretty early, so I only really saw him at suppertime. But my glass of wine while he ate became a ritual, and our conversations became less stilted by the day.

  The weather the following weekend was simply stunning. Though the air temperature was low enough to require big coats and scarves, the sky was an almost Mediterranean blue. A gentle wind chased wispy clouds across the sky.

  On Sunday, Joe drove us all to Whitstable for fish and chips, stopping off on the way at a cashpoint. When he climbed back into the car, he handed me four hundred pounds in cash. I told him it was too much, and for a minute or so we fought. But he insisted it was still cheaper than the B&B he’d been intending to stay in, and as I could see he was never going to give in, I sighed and put the money in my purse.

  As he drove to the seafron
t, I told him that he must tell me if there were any special foods he’d like me to cook.

  ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Your cooking’s great.’

  I laughed. ‘Well, no one has ever said that before.’

  ‘No?’ Joe said. ‘Why not? Your cooking’s lovely.’

  ‘Well, thank you, sir,’ I said jokingly.

  ‘But – and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way . . .’ Joe started.

  ‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘I knew there had to be a but.’

  ‘It’s just, do you think you could cook a bit more?’ Joe asked. ‘I do know that I eat like a horse.’

  ‘Not a horse,’ Ben shouted from the rear. ‘A pig. Mum always says you eat like a pig.’

  ‘That’s, um, a different thing,’ Joe said, glancing at me and pulling a funny face.

  I felt so embarrassed. I’d been serving him double the amount I ate myself, and it truly hadn’t crossed my mind that might not be enough. ‘God, Joe,’ I said. ‘I’m so sorry. Of course! Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘It’s just the job’s really physical,’ he said. ‘So I burn through a lot of calories.’

  ‘Please, you don’t have to justify yourself,’ I said. ‘I’m just shocked I didn’t realise.’

  ‘It’s honestly not a problem,’ Joe said. ‘I’ve been filling up on bread and cheese, so it’s fine. But if you could up the portion size a bit, that would be great.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘No problem.’ I was thinking about the quantity of bread and cheese we’d been getting through and felt annoyed at myself for not having guessed the reason. ‘How did you manage on those ready meals?’ I asked, after a moment. ‘There’s never enough in those even for me.’

  ‘I was eating two.’

  ‘Three,’ Ben chipped in. ‘He used to cook three for him and one for me.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Joe said, glancing at me and grinning lopsidedly. ‘Sometimes it might have been three.’