by Beth Miller
* * *
I sat for a while, facing the window. The palazzo had glamorous long white lacy curtains, the sort that feature in adverts for expensive perfumes. A light breeze made them quiver slightly, casting dappled shadows onto the floor. I felt as unsubstantial, as ephemeral, as those shadows. I pressed my thumbs into my forehead to make sure I was still here. Just about.
He’d said, If you ever decide you’d like to try again, I will be here. But that promise wasn’t worth the Basildon Bond paper that it was written on.
Time passed, and the shadows deepened, until they weren’t dappled any longer, and then there weren’t any more shadows. I got up, and went out into the dark, walked to the Gritti, and asked for a table for one. I’m not sure exactly what I would have done had they been full, perhaps thrown some kind of fit, but thankfully they had a space for me, a few tables along from where Bear and I had sat last night. I ordered food, and the same champagne we’d had, and stared out onto the waters of the Grand Canal and I felt… I don’t know what I felt. I didn’t even know if I was feeling something rather than nothing.
I couldn’t feel, but I could think. I could think about how close I had come to going back. If Richard had said, How lovely to hear from you, I miss you, shall we try again? I would have said yes. I didn’t know how to work out what I really wanted. When I’d left, I thought I’d really wanted to go. Wanted was too feeble a term for it; I’d needed to go, to jump into the unknown, to be my own person. But today I’d thought that maybe I’d had enough freedom. I suppose Bear had made me feel that; her words, and also her sadness at being alone at the end of her life. Being rootless in a foreign country probably wasn’t helping. I’d expected the door back into my old life would still be open, but surprise! It wasn’t. I’d thought Richard would stand still, wait for me, but he hadn’t even stood still for a month. Surely that was impossibly soon to have met someone and shrugged off the heft of a long marriage. I turned my phone back on, ignored his missed calls, and wrote the message I should have sent days ago.
Sparkle, I’m sorry for being an idiot. I love you.
Stella was usually a good communicator, responding promptly to texts and phone messages. Of course, things weren’t usual between us, and she hadn’t replied to my last few travelogue texts, so I didn’t expect anything. I sipped the champagne, which was even more delicious than last night, like drinking soft, creamy velvet.
My phone buzzing made me jump.
I’m sorry too, Mum, and I love you.
It was the best message I’d ever been sent. My mood soared upwards. All at once, I couldn’t wait to get back to England, and put things right with Stella. I turned off the phone, and finished my starter. The delicious flavours of shallots, garlic, wine and salt filled my mouth. All at once, it seemed that I could taste absolutely everything.
So now what?
You go through life, you make choices, they lead to other choices, and before you know it, you’re in a place you wouldn’t have started from. It was time to make new decisions, and change the story.
My main course arrived, and I focused my attention on that, and it was exquisite. When I’d eaten enough, I poured my third glass of champagne, and made a silent toast to Bear. She was probably still in the air, somewhere over India, perhaps, heading towards her stopover in Singapore. Napping, no doubt.
To Bear, I said in my head, may the rest of your life be pity-free. I took another sip. To Mum. I miss you. I let a tear fall, as it always would whenever I thought about Mum. And then, finally, To Richard. Thank you for setting me free.
I left half the bottle of champagne, perhaps because it was the most un-Richard gesture I could think of making. Let the staff enjoy it. I paid the enormous bill without whimpering, and left a large tip too.
No gondola tonight. I walked back through the dark strange city, feeling at home here, and at home in my skin for the first time in a long time. Tomorrow, I needed to make plans for what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
Eighteen
Stella
It was rather a nice party, all fairy lights and flickering tealights in glass jars. Though Claire, the birthday girl, didn’t have many guests – probably no more than twenty-five – it seemed buzzy and crowded in her small, neat flat. I wished I was one of the guests, but alas, Gabby and I, in matching aprons and matching black moods, were at the far end of the living room, behind two trestle tables loaded with huge pots of curry. If you saw us from a distance you might think we looked like a cohesive team, but come a little closer and you’d see how stiff and formal we were with each other.
‘You do the veggie and the rice, I’ll do the others,’ Gabby said for the third time. We were struggling to come up with new things to say to each other. I think I was finding the whole thing slightly less awkward than Gabby. As Newland said the other night, it was easier to recover if you were the injured party rather than the injurer. You could tell he’d done a year of Law before switching to English Lit.
What it wouldn’t have occurred to him to say – he was far too modest – was that it was also easier to get over Threesome-gate now I’d met such a gorgeous chap. Not that anything had happened between us, of course. It was way too soon after Theo for another relationship, or even a one-night stand. After the ACODs meeting, I went back to Newland’s place and told him the whole story. We stayed up till four in the morning talking about our lives. When I told him I’d wanted to stay out so as to avoid having to see Theo, he kindly offered me his bed, and he slept on the sofa.
In the morning I woke to a lot of furious texts from Theo. Feeling bolshie, I replied that I’d spent the night with someone else. Well, it was technically true. Theo had the sheer brass nerve to call me a slag in his reply, and I blocked his number. It was difficult not to compare him unfavourably to Newland, who was so lovely and kind, and those eyes…
‘Did you hear that?’ Gabby said, bursting into my daydream. ‘They’ve announced that the food is ready.’
‘Right. Action stations,’ I said, standing up straight. Someone turned down the music and partygoers started to make their way towards us. Twenty-five people seemed a lot when they all arrived at once, but I focused on serving them quickly and tidily, remembering to smile and chat, and giving clear ingredient information when asked.
We’d served about three-quarters of the guests when I became aware that Gabby was having an altercation with a woman who’d already collected her food.
‘This tastes nothing like green shrimp curry,’ the woman was saying. ‘It doesn’t have any coconut milk in it, for a start.’
‘You know about Sri Lankan food, do you?’ Gabby said, in a foolishly confrontational tone, because I was fairly sure the woman was Sri Lankan.
‘I lived there for the first twenty years of my life,’ the woman said. ‘You know, you shouldn’t describe your food as Sri Lankan if you’ve just read about it in cookery books. It’s cultural appropriation.’
‘Actually,’ Gabby said, raising her voice, ‘I have an aunt by marriage who’s Sri Lankan, who taught me everything she knows.’
‘Really?’ the woman said, looking like she didn’t believe a word.
‘Yes, really.’ Gabby folded her arms.
The woman glanced over at me, and I looked away, embarrassed, because I knew that Gabby’s entire knowledge of Sri Lankan cuisine came from a week’s holiday there a couple of years ago.
‘Everything all right, Hinni?’ Claire, the host, came over, looking worried.
‘Yes thanks,’ the woman said politely.
Claire glanced worriedly at Gabby, who was still looking rather aggressive.
‘Your friend was asking about the food,’ Gabby said.
‘Oh, do you like it?’ Claire turned to Hinni. ‘I thought of you when I booked Yummi Scrummi. Taste of home!’
‘That was very thoughtful of you, Claire,’ Hinni said. No one wanted to upset the host.
Claire smiled, and wandered off. Hinni shook her head, and Gabby s
mirked at her until she too walked away.
We finished serving, and started to clear up. I’d just about unclenched my buttocks from their tight knot of excruciating mortification, the words ‘cultural appropriation’ ringing in my ears, when Gabby hissed at me, ‘You could have backed me up there.’
‘You told me yourself you forgot to add the coconut milk.’
‘You are part of this business, Stella. You can’t fade into the background when things get difficult.’
‘Don’t you think she was right, though?’ I said. ‘We don’t know how to make the food properly authentic.’
‘Hardly anyone knows what it should taste like. That was just unlucky. And I’m a bloody good cook.’
‘That’s not what I’m talking about. Your imaginary aunt can’t take the place of genuine knowledge.’
‘Oh, fuck off.’
‘No,’ I said, and I undid my apron, ‘you fuck off.’ I hadn’t planned to say this at all, but God, it felt good.
‘What?’
‘I’m done. I’m through.’ I balled up the apron and threw it on the floor. ‘I don’t know how I thought I could carry on working with you when I can’t trust you. I can’t trust you to take care with the recipes. I can’t trust you not to lie to customers about your phoney credentials. I can’t even trust you not to screw my boyfriend.’
‘Fine!’ Gabby picked up my apron and flung it over the top of the table, where it landed at the feet of a group of guests, who looked at us in confusion. ‘Good fucking riddance. I was an idiot to let Theo talk me into taking you on. Said you’d been all pathetic about getting a job and leaving your mummy. Should have trusted my gut, knew as soon as I met you that you were a waste of space.’
I walked away without looking back, pushing past groups of people talking and dancing.
‘I’ll pack up here by myself then, shall I!’ Gabby yelled after me.
* * *
Outside the house I stood in the darkness for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I didn’t know exactly where I was; Gabby had driven us in her van. I got to the end of the road and saw a bus stop. I sat at it and called Newland. I’d only known him for three days, but he was already the person I most wanted to talk to.
He picked up straight away. ‘Hey, are you OK?’
‘I’ve had a row with Gabby and I’ve left the business,’ I said, as calmly as I could. ‘I’m going to go back to the house, pack, and go to my dad’s till I work out what to do.’
‘Wow, all I’ve done today is decide between ham or cheese sandwiches.’
A woman sitting further along the seat clucked her tongue sympathetically. I cradled the phone tighter and whispered, ‘I’m sorry. You’ve only just met me, I don’t want to pull you into my drama.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Newland said. ‘This is a good decision for you.’
‘It is?’
‘Obviously I don’t know Gabby, but from what you said, she really undermines you. I couldn’t understand why you went back to work with her after she’d been so horrible.’
‘Oh, Lan. I don’t know either, anymore. I didn’t want her to feel she’d beaten me, or something. And it was Theo’s fault, to be honest, not hers.’
‘It was both their faults. Where are you? I’ll come and get you.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m at a bus stop somewhere.’
‘They’re only every forty minutes this time of night, love,’ the clucking woman said, ‘and we’ve not long missed one.’
I turned to her. ‘Where are we, exactly?’
‘Hutton Road, Shenfield.’
I repeated this to Lan and he said, ‘Near Brentwood? I know it.’
‘Tell him we’re opposite the library,’ the woman said.
I did so, and he laughed. ‘I know exactly where that is, I was at a Young Essex Librarians meeting there the other week. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Look out for a pink car.’
‘Why’s your car pink?’
‘Tell you later.’
‘Lan, I…’ in an emotional state, I nearly said, ‘I love you’! And we hadn’t even kissed yet! I said goodbye hastily and hung up.
‘He seems like a lovely fella,’ the clucking lady said.
‘He is,’ I said.
By the time Lan turned up in his crazy little Noddy car, me and clucking Linda were mates. I’d promised her Lan would drop her at her house in Harold Wood. He took this in his stride, and the three of us chatted animatedly all the way there, about Linda’s job as a hospital orderly, about my abrupt resignation from Gabby’s business, and about how young you had to be to qualify for membership in the Young Essex Librarian’s group (under forty, incredibly). We also uncovered the truth of the pink car: it had belonged to his cousin, and when she went travelling she’d offered it to him at too good a price to worry about the colour.
‘I thought I might spray it,’ he said, ‘but I’ve become quite fond of it.’
‘I like a fella who’s confident in his masculinity,’ Linda said approvingly.
Lan took her right to her door and she shook his hand as she got out. ‘You’re an old-school gent, you are,’ she said. Then in a stage whisper to me, she said, ‘Definitely a keeper,’ and winked.
With Linda gone from the back seat, I felt a bit less relaxed, though not in a bad way. There was a definite charge between us. The truth is, that when that funny little pink Nissan pulled up at the bus stop and I saw him looking out for me, I realised that I did love him, even though it was obviously far too early to know that, let alone say it.
‘That was so good of you, Lan, to rescue all the waifs and strays of Shenfield. You’re a complete star.’
‘So are you, Stella. Your name means “star”. I looked it up today in an idle moment.’
‘You did? That’s so sweet.’ I thought of Gabby, and shuddered. ‘Are you sure I’m not a waste of space?’
‘You what?’
‘Nothing. I’m being silly. Anyway, I’m really grateful.’
‘For what? It’s no hardship to be nice to you. You’re a star and, apparently, I’m a keeper.’
* * *
At the house there was no sign of Gabby’s van, and I prayed we could get out of there before she returned. I let us in, and paused outside the living room. That night I’d come back here and stood silently in this same spot – the moment before everything changed – I felt as if I no longer belonged here. I should have trusted that instinct. It amazed me now that just a few days ago I’d thought I could carry on as if nothing had happened.
We went into the kitchen to get some of my utensils. I was startled to see Piet sitting at the table.
‘Hi, Piet. I thought you were working tonight.’ He had a lot of odd jobs, including bar work.
‘Hello, Stella and Newland. They didn’t need me after all, I am afraid.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘It was my own fault, I was late. But I must admit, I am starting to worry a little about money.’ He got up and filled the kettle. ‘What about you? Has the party ended?’
‘I came back early. Actually, I’ve left the business.’
‘That is a sensible decision.’
‘It is?’
‘Gabby is not a team player.’
Newland laughed. ‘You can say that again.’
‘What will you do now?’ Piet asked. ‘Tea?’
‘Go on then. Quick one. I’m moving out now. My rent’s paid till the end of the month. I’ll stay at Dad’s for a while, I guess. Then, I don’t know.’ I knew I had to go, but the thought of going back yet again to my family home, with no job and no money, filled me with anxiety. It couldn’t be like before. It mustn’t be.
Piet clattered about with cups and milk. ‘I do not feel so comfortable living here with Gabby myself. She is too unpredictable. She was very rude to Carol the other morning.’
‘Carol? From the ACODs meeting?’ I blinked in surprise.
‘She and I had a night of highly enjoyable casual sex. Gabby was th
en extremely unpleasant to Carol, who is certainly not old enough to be my mother.’
‘No… OK,’ I said, resolutely avoiding Lan’s eye, though I could see that he was grinning hugely. I was sure Carol was at least twenty-five years older than Piet. You had to admire his appetite for random sexual encounters. He was so unashamed, so European about sex. It was kind of refreshing.
‘If you get any ideas about work or living arrangements please keep me on the loop.’
‘In the loop. I will, Piet.’
‘Because I suspect,’ and he smiled at Lan, ‘you will be wanting to live back in this area, and I too should like to stay here. I must mention that I enjoy sharing a house with you.’
Lan and I took our tea upstairs. I found that I was smiling. What was it about Piet? He always made me feel better. I promised myself that I would come back to this town; I really liked it, and I had a potential housemate here. Going back to Dad’s this time would just be a stopgap, I was determined about that. I could feel that Gabby’s words about me being a waste of space were sliding off my shoulders, not embedding into my brain as they would have done last year, when I felt so unconfident.
How do you feel?
Surprisingly fine, thanks Bettina.
With Lan helping me pack my stuff into bin bags it was all very quick – I didn’t have much stuff – but even so, we hadn’t quite finished when I heard Gabby come in. There was a lot of door-slamming and swearing, and after ten minutes I heard Piet run upstairs and go into his room, presumably to get away from Gabby in full flow.
As we crept downstairs with my things, there was a knock on the front door. I opened it, and Theo was standing there.
‘Oh,’ he said.
‘Oh, indeed,’ I said. ‘I guess you’re here to comfort poor Gabby?’