The Love Square

by Laura Jane Williams

  More silence.

  ‘Penny,’ said Christina, after a beat. ‘Can I ask you one question? You don’t have to answer it now. It can be your homework, in fact, if you think you’d like to continue with these sessions.’

  Penny wasn’t sure if she wanted to continue – they hadn’t really done anything. Penny had basically come and recited a monologue for forty-five minutes and paid thirty pounds for the privilege. She could have done that on a voice note.

  ‘Okay,’ Penny said, uncertainly. ‘What’s the question?’

  ‘My question is this,’ said Christina. ‘What is it that you want?’

  Penny blinked. What was it that she wanted?

  ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I want to be happy, obviously. That’s why I’m here.’

  Christina smiled.

  ‘Take some time. Maybe go for a walk, or for a coffee on your own. Sit with your feelings. And ask yourself: what is it that I want? Because I suspect you already know the answer, and that really, you’re here for permission to want it. Most people are. But that’s okay. We can work on that together. First – just spend some time with the question, okay?’

  Penny nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Penny exited the townhouse and blinked in the morning sun. The showers from earlier had cleared, and her first instinct was to pull out her phone to record a Personal Podcast for her sister, but then she thought better of it.

  Go for a walk, or for a coffee.

  Penny texted Manuela and asked if she’d be okay setting up for service without her. It was a Tuesday, and it was still only 9.30 a.m. Manuela texted back right away, saying: no problem. Penny put some more money in the parking meter and looked around. She didn’t know this part of town very well, so it was a case of picking a direction and following her nose. She looked across the road at a tree-lined avenue that seemed to have signs of life at the other end. She walked.

  The cool air felt good against her face – Penny hadn’t realized how warm she’d gotten at the therapy centre, like her emotions had been pressed up against her skin, asking for a way out. She tried to focus on the sensations in her body over the thoughts in her mind, but that lasted all of ten minutes before her tummy rumbled – she hadn’t had breakfast. She pushed through the door of the first café she saw, ordered a coffee and a croissant, and slipped into the window seat right as another woman was leaving. The woman smiled at her.

  ‘Enjoy,’ she said, even though Penny didn’t know her.

  ‘Thanks,’ Penny replied, slipping off her coat.

  Penny sat in the coffee shop, cradling her oat milk latte and alternating between watching the hum-drum of the café play out, and idly watching the world pass by.

  She thought of Bridges. The café she was in was similar, but bigger. Behind the counter was a young woman who looked as much of an art graduate as Stuart always had, managing to steam milk and grind beans and find extra ice when the other woman – plainer, more serious, her Levi’s so high-rise they almost reached her chest – navigated the till. People moved in and out. Two women in Lycra leggings debated loudly about sharing a scone, a middle-aged man with a very tiny dog ordered two almond croissants that looked crunchy and crispy and delicious enough to make Penny wonder if she should get one, too – even though she’d already had a chocolate one – and at one point a red-headed man in chef’s whites and an apron came out of the kitchen door carrying two plates of eggs.

  ‘Sorry, Aaron,’ the serious-looking girl said. ‘We had a rush on.’

  ‘It’s alright,’ said the chef, delivering the food to a couple sat looking at a laptop screen together, pointing at things and musing over numbers and colours.

  Penny missed Bridges, and ached to be back there soon. She had to admit, she’d enjoyed Derbyshire more than she thought she would – Penny knew she’d improved her skills, and her ability to manage a team. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d done it. Apart from Uncle David falling ill in the first place, she wouldn’t change having been there. It made her appreciate the life she’d made in London all the more, and it had been pretty fun, in the end, until it wasn’t. What did she want? She wanted to be back in London, living the life she had designed for herself and not the one her uncle had given her, the one she’d felt powerless to refuse.

  She thought about Francesco. If she’d never had to come to The Red Panda, would they have stayed together all this time? Penny weighed it up. It was entirely possible that they would still have tortured each other, still caused one another pain. Before she’d met him she was about to start a family, on her own, happily. He’d confused things. Without him, it made her path to parenthood clear. She could go back to the original plan. She was going to do it alone before him – why not do it now he’d gone?

  As if on cue, outside on the pavement a mother stopped with her toddler in a pram, another child attached to a board at the back, similar to a skateboard attached width-ways, so he didn’t have to walk. The older child hopped off and bent down to pick something up off the ground, and therein commenced a seemingly rather intense discussion with his mother about something that made Penny understand that the mum was taking it all very seriously, when what was being discussed was undoubtedly not very serious at all. The kid came up to her knees. It was hardly world economic policy they were dissecting. The love in her face was like a punch to the heart for Penny.

  A family.

  Kids.

  She ran a hand over her stomach. It seemed wildly unfair that she’d never know what it was to carry her own child, but at least she had her embryos. She also had a sister who, once upon a time, had offered to help.

  Penny wanted it, deeply. In her late teens and early twenties, becoming a parent had never really occurred to her. And when the choice was made for her with the cancer, the early menopause, and having the biological right taken away from her, it had all made her realize how much she did want it.

  She looked around the café. Yes, she missed her own. And more that, what she missed was something she hadn’t actually yet known. A child. Motherhood. Babies and toddlers and prams and serious discussions about what had just been picked up off the pavement.

  The issue outside of the window was resolved and the little boy hopped back onto the two wheels behind the pram so his mother could keep pushing.

  That’s what I want, Penny thought to herself. And I want it now.

  Her eyes welled up with the knowledge of it.

  Yup, she thought. I really do.

  She’d put everything on hold for The Red Panda. For her sick uncle, who had given her everything. She’d done her duty. She’d even had a little excitement on the way – and, of course, a little heartbreak. That was life. But Penny wanted her agency back, now. She wanted to take back control.

  I can’t believe I’ve buried this feeling all year, she texted Clementine as she finished her coffee. I’m ready, she said. My time here is almost up, and I know what I want next. I don’t care about a man. I want that baby!

  22

  Hey friend, Penny typed into her phone. She couldn’t stand that he was out there, mad at her. She needed resolution. Surely she could make him forgive her – surely he wouldn’t ignore her forever.

  Clementine had gently suggested that maybe he hadn’t ever been a friend, but Penny didn’t know where that left her now. She was desperate to make things right.

  She deleted what she’d typed.

  I miss you, she wrote instead, before deleting that, too.

  Knowing he existed in the world, cross and hurt, weighed her down. What could she do?

  Nothing.

  She pulled up her web browser, instead. Having a baby as a single mum, she typed in, settling in to scroll through the results.

  23

  Running late, Thomas’s text said after Penny had gathered everything they needed. Meet after instead?

  Penny held the phone in her hand and took a deep breath. She hated that he’d ducked out of helping her without even saying sorry. There was a bees nest in the car park
that needed a special powder sprinkled over it to encourage the bees to leave and make a home somewhere else, which was important because Penny couldn’t have a bees nest outside as it continued to get warmer. A thought barraged its way into her brain: Francesco would already have done it.

  Penny sighed. She shouldn’t have been relying on Thomas in the first place, since she was about to break off whatever they were to each other.

  ‘Look what the cat dragged in,’ she said, when Thomas finally arrived. She’d taken care of the bees nest herself, spraying it with the industrial strength stuff she’d got online and not suffering a single sting in the process. She looked ridiculous doing it – just in case, she’d had not an inch of skin on show with her joggers tucked into her socks and gloves pulled up over her long sleeves. She’d even wrapped an old scarf around her head, leaving room only for her eyes and nose, and held it all in place with a woolly hat.

  ‘Ahhh come on,’ Thomas said. ‘I’ve only just got back. Don’t be like that.’ He looked at Penny pleadingly, his eyes big and adorable. He knew she wasn’t really mad, and that even if she was he’d soften her up in seconds. He was just too charming.

  ‘Just,’ said Penny, walking from the door she’d let him in from back up to her flat, peeling off her layers as she did so. ‘Don’t say you’ll do something and then not do it. Don’t agree in the first place. Like, have some self-respect, you know?’ It came out harsher than she’d meant, but it was too late. She’d said it.

  ‘Self-respect?’ Thomas said, pausing on the stairs.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Penny, changing her tone. ‘Just be a man of your word.’

  ‘Hey,’ Thomas said, making her stop and turn around. ‘Are you okay?’

  Penny nodded. She shouldn’t be picking a fight. She knew why she was doing it – because an argument was easier than a mature discussion about no longer sleeping together. ‘I’m fine. I’m just saying, it’s not cool to have your actions mismatch your words.’ She walked up ahead and flopped down onto the sofa. It took Thomas a minute to come and join her.

  ‘Well this is a side of you I’ve never seen before,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘I just told you – you’ve annoyed me.’

  ‘Okay, well that doesn’t make me feel great.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel great to me, either.’

  Thomas stood there, scowling. ‘This is going to be a fun hike then, isn’t it?’

  Penny picked up a magazine and began flicking through it. ‘I don’t think I want to hike today,’ she said. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’

  ‘You’ve changed your mind.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go. You go without me.’

  Thomas came to sit beside her. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Come on. I’m only off for a few days before I go again. Let’s go walking, Pen.’

  ‘I said I don’t want to,’ Penny snapped. ‘Stop pushing it.’

  ‘But you love the hikes!’ Thomas said. ‘It’s like you’re mad at me or something!’

  Penny sighed. ‘I’m not mad at you, Thomas. I’m tired. Really, really tired. So instead of walking ten miles I’m going to rest, because that is what my body is asking for. Okay?’ It wasn’t really a question.

  ‘I was really looking forward to spending the day with you.’

  ‘I know. But I just need one day to be in my own company. That’s not a rejection of you. That’s me taking care of myself.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ said Thomas, not at all happy. ‘I think you’re mad at me.’

  ‘I will be if you keep saying that. Text me later. Just … I don’t want to go.’

  Thomas nodded. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But you’re going to have to text me. See you later.’

  She felt terrible once he’d gone.

  ‘Shit,’ she said to herself. She pulled on her shoes to see if she could catch him at his house before he left.

  Penny knocked on Thomas’s door, hearing a dog yapping on the other side of it. He answered wearing grey jogging bottoms that sat low on his hips, and a grey t-shirt that hung just a sliver above his waistband so that he revealed enough flesh to distract Penny’s gaze. He was a beautiful man, she’d give him that. Maybe she thought that now because it was the first time she’d seen him dressed in anything other than a label. He was obviously halfway through changing.

  ‘Hello, you,’ Thomas said.

  ‘Hey,’ said Penny, smiling. ‘Hi. I was a bitch before, and I’ve come to say sorry.’

  ‘Do you want to come in?’

  Penny looked at him. ‘Um …’ she said, and in her hesitation Thomas’s face softened. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘You’re not into this anymore, are you?’

  Penny shrugged. ‘I want to be, but … no,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Penny,’ said Thomas. ‘That’s okay. It’s a laugh until it’s not, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And you deserve everything your heart wants. Even if your heart doesn’t want me.’

  ‘I owe you a lot, though,’ said Penny.

  Thomas furrowed his brow in question.

  ‘You showed me a side to this place that I wouldn’t have seen otherwise. You got me out of the pub and into the hills, and other restaurants, and parks and pubs.’

  ‘Well you know,’ Thomas said, ‘we can still do that. I like you, Penny – I’d love to see you when I’m back, hang out, catch up.’

  Penny smiled. ‘I’d like that too,’ she said, understanding implicitly that she could be his friend, because she’d never felt that deeply about him as a lover. And, of course, the reason she and Francesco could never have simply been friends, was precisely the opposite: she didn’t just love him. She was in love with him.

  ‘I don’t want to take up your day off,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to say …’

  Thomas opened his arms to her. ‘Don’t say anything, Pen. It’s okay. We’re okay.’

  Less than a minute after he’d opened the door to her, he closed it again, and Penny already felt lighter.

  I should have treated you better, Penny typed into the text thread with Francesco. Everything she wanted to say to him was a variation of the same thing.

  I screwed up.

  I wish you hadn’t left.

  I’m sorry.

  She stared at the text box, debating, like she always did, on whether to send it.

  She didn’t.

  I think I want to have a baby, she typed. I want a family. I’m excited!

  She deleted that, too.

  24

  It was two weeks later, in the middle of March, when Uncle David and Eric came to visit, along with Rima and Clementine.

  ‘Look at it here,’ Uncle David said. ‘I hardly recognize it!’

  ‘Yes you do,’ said Penny, smiling. ‘It’s almost exactly as you left it.’

  Her uncle took in the pub. Penny had, to be fair, put her stamp on it. Things were cleaner and more orderly. She’d added in more textures to the rooms – softer throws and pillows and different candle holders and linen napkins instead of paper ones. The fires were always stacked, even if it wasn’t cold enough to light one, and the bar glistened and gleamed. Various members of staff made their way towards their old boss, genuinely thrilled to see him. Penny waited patiently as David asked after husbands and wives, children and parents, his rapport with his staff obvious and natural.

  ‘Good to see you looking well,’ Charlie said to him. ‘You frightened the life out of us.’

  Not one of them, though, asked if he was coming back. It was obvious to everyone that he wouldn’t be – he looked so well, in fact, that a return to his old lifestyle would surely cause nothing but damage.

  ‘It’s the best thing we ever did, spending time down there on the coast,’ he said to more than one person, riffing on how healing being near the water was, and how restorative the sea air.

  Clementine, Rima and Eric had gone on a short tour of the area so that Penny and her uncle could catch up whilst Eric could
check in on friends they’d not seen in a while to invite them for drinks later. Penny told Uncle David that Francesco had gone. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told him before. She wondered if saying it to him would have made Francesco’s leaving seem important, and for weeks she’d tried to make out it wasn’t so. She’d tried calling Francesco that morning before she’d even got out of bed and had chance to lose her nerve, but the phone issued a foreign dial tone and rang out. She didn’t text to follow up: he’d see the missed call. That was enough.

  ‘That’s such a shame,’ Uncle David said, looking around the flat and taking an inventory of what Penny had changed. ‘I liked Francesco, very much. I liked him being up here with you, too.’

  ‘Well,’ said Penny, offering up a plate of biscuits. ‘Let me tell you, he could be a real dick.’

  Uncle David stirred cream into his coffee. ‘Can’t we all,’ he said, mildly.

  ‘No,’ said Penny. ‘But I mean like, possessive. Dark. Moody. And jealous.’

  ‘Of you?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Uncle David considered this information. ‘And you?’ he said, finally.

  ‘What do you mean, and me?’

  ‘Could you be dark or moody with him?’

  Penny considered this. She had so seldom ever felt anything other than excited to be with Francesco, really. He made everything seem more exciting. Even in the kitchen, after hours, eating pasta. For a stretch, there hadn’t needed to be anything else.

  ‘I mean, I didn’t put on a performance for him or anything,’ she said, eventually. ‘I was just who I am with him.’ Saying it, she reflected immediately on how that sounded. She was able to be herself with him, which is a privilege so few are afforded.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Uncle David.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, changing the subject. She was boring herself with this post-mortem of him, and of her. Of them. There wasn’t even a ‘them’ if he wouldn’t bloody take her calls. ‘How are you? You look a hundred times better than you have. Even since Christmas. It’s really, really good to see.’