Knowing You

by Samantha Tonge

  ‘My appetite’s just been off.’

  ‘Has Lenny been in touch?’

  I sigh and close the door. ‘I told him to leave. He seemed to think we could still be friends.’ A pain that’s all too familiar grips my chest as if fists are wringing out my lungs. It’s a pain I haven’t felt for a long, long time. Not since what happened to Uncle Kevin.

  At first I used to struggle with my strong emotional connection with Lenny. I’ve always been an independent woman – Mum drilled the importance of that into me. I pay my own bills. I speak my mind at work. I’m following my passion. I’ve gladly embraced the single life, having learnt that when you rely on someone, fate can snatch them away in the most decisive manner.

  But then I met Lenny, and me became we.

  ‘What did he say when you showed him the text? Talk to me, Violet. If my years of nursing taught me anything, it’s that holding things in never did anyone any good.’

  I study her soft white hair cut into a neat bob. She wears no make-up apart from a slash of pink across the mouth that rarely utters an unkind word. Concern deepens the map of lines on her face that betray years of working nights. She’s wearing her usual fit-for-all-occasions slacks.

  Normally Kath and I can’t chat enough. We became friends after I found her in the ground floor hallway. She’d had a nasty fall on getting back from her weekly shift at a conservation charity shop. To thank me for taking her to the surgery, she’d baked a cake and invited me up to her flat, which is above mine. As soon as I saw her shelves full of books and framed photos of pets and safari holidays, I knew we’d be friends. She loves animals but her nephew, Norm, won’t even let her have a goldfish in his flat. At the request of his mum, Kath’s sister, he begrudgingly rents it to her at a low rate because her pension is so small.

  We came to an agreement that she should bang her broom on her floor if she needs help. The flat feels so empty now, so quiet, and I wish feisty Kath would ask for help more often. When I knew last year that London would be my forever home, instead of renting I dipped into family savings put aside for me. It made sense for Lenny to move in.

  ‘Violet?’ Kath cocks her head and nods encouragement.

  ‘In the end, Lenny didn’t even try to lie. I read out Beatrix’s text and he crumbled. I hadn’t really believed it. I can’t believe I told myself that her message must have been a joke.’

  ‘Oh, darling…’

  ‘I know. Talk about naive. Of course it makes complete sense now – all those late nights he spent supposedly at work. He spent half an hour saying that things had just been difficult, with him worrying about getting a promotion and having to put superhuman effort into his job. He mumbled some vague apology and gave a little speech about how we’d grown apart. How neither he nor Beatrix could fight the attraction.’ My voice breaks. ‘It makes me realise that he only really saw me as some sort of homely comfort in a strange city. After all this time, London doesn’t feel unfamiliar to him anymore, and that makes me redundant.’ I curl my fists. ‘It’s as if I’ve always, secretly, been second best. She’s so glamorous, Kath. Really stylish. I could never—’

  ‘Stop that this instant. No one lies on their deathbed wishing they’d had a wider thigh gap.’ She lifts my chin. ‘What counts is kindness. Honesty. Being true to yourself. You’ve got all of those things in buckets. The rest is just fluff. It truly is his loss.’

  We get out of the car. She links arms with me. Her arthritis has been worse during the cold snap. As we approach the double doors, she gives me a sharp look.

  ‘Don’t you dare waste one more second worrying about Lenny. If he can deceive you like that, then you’re well rid of him. Imagine the heartbreak if this had happened after you’d signed a marriage certificate and had kids.’

  Mum said the same thing from Alicante last night. She told me to take a holiday and fly over to spend time with her and my stepdad Ryan. Oh, I was tempted, hearing the sound of cicadas and glasses that no doubt contained sangria in the background. My imagination ran free for a moment and I could practically smell sea salt and the sweet fragrance of vanilla orchids emanating from my phone. But I can’t visit. She’s finally living a carefree life full of sun and blue skies. Who am I to cast a shadow over that?

  ‘You’re right,’ I say and do my best to put on an optimistic voice, having said too much. I don’t want to worry Kath.

  We are just about to go in when the others appear. Kath kisses her good friend and ex-colleague Nora. Both are in their eighties. She has short, dyed red hair and uses any excuse to wear her faux fur black jacket – much to animal-lover Kath’s disapproval, who thinks it still sends out the wrong message.

  Widowed Nora is a former hospital receptionist and loves a good old-fashioned romance. She’s a fan of modern celebrity, loves gossip magazines and tries to keep up with the latest phrases. She’s also probably the local cinema’s most frequent visitor. Married Pauline, in her sixties, worked in admin within the police force and likes nothing better than a good detective novel. She wears a smart skirt and secretarial chignon and has a reputation for being handier with a screwdriver than Nick Knowles. A trip to a DIY store is one of her favourite outings. The book club is just made up of us four regulars, although other residents come and go, depending on the books.

  They each give me a big hug. We head down to the pub – the women’s choice of venue for the club. This week’s read is a steamy romance.

  ‘I’ve not slept much this week,’ says Nora as we walk the short distance down the main road to the Frog and Duck. A cutting breeze blows, and I pull down my hat. ‘A Fireman’s Burning Desires… goodness, this book has made me want to relive my youth.’

  ‘Me too.’ Kath tightens her scarf. ‘Mind you, I’m not sure I could have kept up with his pace in the bedroom, and that’s after years of working through the night making beds and giving baths.’

  ‘That’s what we like about you, Violet,’ says Pauline as we enter the pub. Smart pine chairs with sage cushions give the place warmth. The carpet is dark green and the walls are painted magnolia. Glossy-leaved plants punctuate the room. The effect is fresh and cheerful like a sunny garden conservatory. ‘You don’t assume that because we’re pensioners we’re prudes. I mean, let’s face it,’ she continues and heads for a table by the window, ‘with our decades of life experience, the last thing that’s going to shock us is a bit of sex and rude words.’

  ‘It’s love-making, Pauline, love-making,’ says romantic Nora and rolls her eyes as she sits down.

  Kath and I smile at each other and I head to the bar to buy the customary four gin and tonics. All of us put in ten pounds a week, which supplies us with enough drinks and crisps. It takes me a while to attract the barman’s attention. I carry the tray back to the table.

  ‘Squad goals,’ says Nora and raises her glass.

  I’m the only one with any idea what that means.

  ‘It’s an interesting point,’ I say. ‘Is it love-making or just sex from the start?’ We discuss the main characters’ relationship. Without realising it, I zone out and stare through the window’s glass.For Lenny, was it just sex with me and not true love? Self-doubt has filled the space he left.

  ‘You okay, girl?’ asks Kath. I meet her gaze and she offers me a Kettle chip before taking the last one. Three pairs of eyes stare my way.

  ‘He’s not worth it,’ says Nora. ‘You’re a marvellous woman and deserve better.’

  ‘It’s true,’ says Pauline. ‘He’ll wake up one day and realise what a gem he’s lost. I was engaged to someone else, you know, before I married Bill.’

  ‘What happened?’ I ask. The others lean forward.

  ‘He cheated on me. I found out from an anonymous phone call that turned out to be made by the other woman. She’d got sick of waiting for him to break off the engagement. He’d dragged it out for weeks – said he hadn’t wanted to hurt me.’

  ‘You’ve never told us that before,’ says Kath.

  ‘I don’t often th
ink of it – and that’s proof that given time, hearts do heal.’

  ‘Lenny said that – that he couldn’t bring himself to tell me, although I have my suspicions that he was only waiting to move into Beatrix’s new flat. I feel so stupid.’

  ‘What an absolute rotter,’ says Nora.

  ‘I scratched my ex’s car with my favourite screwdriver. Something I like to think I wouldn’t do now. He had the audacity to call the police,’ says Pauline. ‘I got on very well with the officer. We got chatting… that’s when I applied for a job in the force.’

  ‘Something good will come out of this too, sweetheart,’ says Kath. ‘I dated a doctor once. It turned out he was married. To get over him, I decided I needed a change of direction. That’s how I became interested in mental health and eventually specialised and became a senior nurse in that area.’

  I smile at everyone. For the first time since Lenny and I broke up, I feel as if a dense fog of despair is thinning. That’s one of the reasons I like friends from an older generation. They give you perspective. A number of years from now and hopefully I’d hardly remember Lenny.

  I go to the bar and buy another round of drinks, determined to make the most of the rest of the meeting. Arms linked, the four of us eventually walk back to the retirement home, exhausting our memories of previous romances. My first love was an assistant manager at the local bookshop where I had a Saturday job. It was then that I realised the most attractive thing about a man was the width of his reading list.

  As we arrive back, Hugo pulls into the drive. His gran lives there too, and now and again our paths cross. A week after Lenny left, I still hadn’t mentioned the break-up at work. Then Hugo left for his annual two week skiing trip.

  ‘How was the snow? Not as slushy as here I hope,’ I say after greeting his gran. She goes over to the others and in minute detail describes the lamb shank Hugo bought her for lunch.

  ‘Fantastic,’ he says and looks me up and down. ‘But it’s you who looks like they’ve been on the slopes. I didn’t know you were on a diet. Which one are you following? The 5:2? Or the South Beach? Whichever one it is, you look great.’

  Diet? Hardly, but over the last week or so, both Kath and Farah have said I look drawn. I believed them. I can’t sleep at night because I’m over-analysing where Lenny and I went wrong.

  Hugo’s the first person to indicate that the single life suits me after all. I look down. My trousers do seem a bit baggy and now I think about it, the waist slips from side to side in a way it never had before. If anything, surely I look a bit of a mess? Yet for some reason, along with my friends’ camaraderie, Hugo’s comment makes me feel just a bit more resilient.

  2001

  We leave the park and get home before Mum, so Uncle Kevin and I play cards.

  ‘Oh no. Not again!’ Uncle Kevin shoots me a smile and holds his head in his hands.

  I’ve won. I don’t know how. His maths is much better than mine. Lately, I’ve got the feeling he’s playing badly on purpose.

  ‘Don’t forget to take a pack of cards with you, Uncle Kevin. Your new friends might want to play.’

  He gives my arm a squeeze.

  ‘It’s been a strange summer,’ I say.

  ‘Nothing wrong with strange.’ He smiles. ‘Sometimes that means exciting.’

  Our tower block is being knocked down. I guess that might be exciting to watch. It was built in the olden days, when Mum was little. After another caught fire last year, it was decided that ours is too dangerous to live in. Mum says every cloud has a silver lining. It was a chance to move nearer to Uncle Kevin. She found another job waitressing. I said goodbye to my friends six weeks ago, at the beginning of the holidays – bad timing. Uncle Kevin picked us up in his shiny car and helped us move into our new ground floor flat. Really, it’s the bottom half of a small house with a garden to play in.

  But then a few days after we moved, our cloud ran out of silver. Uncle Kevin got headhunted. Sounds scary, doesn’t it? Makes me think of my favourite Horrid Henry story about cannibals. It means he got offered a job in America, the place where people eat bacon with pancakes, do cheerleading and own guns. He was going to say no – family was more important – but Mum told him not to be silly. It wouldn’t be forever. She’d wanted a fresh start anyway.

  So he took it and promised to come home as often as he could, starting with Christmas. Uncle Kevin said we should move into his house. With his new job, he could afford to keep paying for that and a new place abroad. But Mum got quite cross. She doesn’t like to take things for nothing. So they came to a compromise – those are four of Mum’s favourite words. He’s selling his house but Mum accepted his car, huge telly and new freezer, like she’s sometimes accepted holidays when he’s taken us to Cornwall.

  I tried to hide my upset but I think Uncle Kevin noticed because I came home from holiday club one day and he’d bought me a striped cat called Tinker. He got him from a place called the Cats Prevention Leak. Mum says I am old enough to look after something other than myself now. It is my job to give Tinker his biscuits and wipe his paws when he comes in from the garden if he’s been covering up his wee. I promise Tinker will have the cleanest feet ever. I enjoy keeping things neat and tidy, like my room. Uncle Kevin says I must be the only child that does and teases me.

  ‘Are you scared about starting something new?’ I ask and stare at the scattered cards.

  ‘I can’t decide whether the feeling is fear or excitement. It’s in the pit of my stomach. Sometimes it feels like water bubbles bursting and sometimes like heavy bowling balls dragging me down.’

  ‘That’s how I feel about tomorrow. I can’t wait to see the school library, but then what if no one wants to get to know me?’

  Not that I had loads of friends at my old school. And that didn’t bother me. As long as I had my books, Mum and Uncle Kevin, I was happy. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to at break. To sit next to in class. Someone to pull faces with when the lesson gets boring. Someone to have around to play and eat chips with in front of the telly, if Mum’s in a good mood. And I had all of that in my old group of school friends. I was the quietest, but no one minded, apart from Lucy, the loudest. She said I should read less and concentrate on words that are spoken instead of printed.

  Uncle Kevin leans across the table and takes both my hands. ‘You will make friends, Violet. You’re such a kind, caring person. Just give it time.’ He says a few other things. I don’t always understand what he means but there are three things he’s drilled into me. To be myself, work hard and be kind.

  Would a dad make me feel better like this? I’ll never know because mine has never been around.

  ‘I’m sorry to leave after you and your mum moved near,’ he says and lets go of my fingers.

  ‘I’m going to miss you,’ I say. ‘I’ve liked you, Mum and me always being a three. It’s meant I don’t miss having a dad. We feel like a family.’

  He reaches across and gives me a big hug. I must be brave. It wouldn’t be fair to Uncle Kevin to let him see me cry.

  ‘But it’s too good an opportunity for you to miss,’ I say, because that’s what Mum’s been saying. Sometimes she sounds more like his mother than his sister, but then he is younger than her by ten years.

  I’m glad Uncle Kevin hasn’t noticed the wobble I feel in my lip. I can’t do that to him or to Mum. She’s been quiet all week. Those circles under her eyes look darker than ever. Despite the car and the telly and the freezer, I know she’ll miss Uncle Kevin more than anyone. So when we get back home, I pretend that tomorrow isn’t really happening. I’m not starting at a new school and Uncle Kevin isn’t getting on a plane all the way to somewhere called New York City.

  Chapter 5

  Since I saw him at the retirement home last Sunday, Hugo has talked to me about things we don’t usually discuss, like clothes and health trends. I feel like a ship that has sailed into unchartered waters. He complimented me again today; said he liked my outfit. I’d worn a skirt f
or a change – an old size fourteen I hadn’t fit into for years.

  I sit at my desk and straighten the keyboard. This evening, Lenny will be at a book launch for our author Gary Smith, who is represented by his agency. My stomach clenches. I haven’t seen him for almost four weeks, except on social media. Not that I’ve looked at his profiles. Apart from a couple of times on Twitter. Yesterday he posted a selfie of him and Beatrix. Their relationship must be public now.

  Tonight’s launch is for Gary’s Young Adult book called Bubbles. It’s about a rich teenager whose family comes from nothing but ends up producing champagne. It’s highly unusual – almost like a saga for young adults. The story spans several generations, from the penniless, hardworking ancestors to their modern indulged offspring. Early reviews expect it to be a huge hit. Translation rights sales are already dynamic. So Thoth Publishing is more than happy to celebrate in style. We’ve ordered in canapés and the interns are decorating our biggest conference room with gold streamers and balloons. Each guest will receive a goody bag containing a signed copy, luxury truffles and a mini bottle of posh lemonade.

  Normally I’d make my usual excuses and curl up with a book on the settee. Old habits die hard. I did much the same during my university Freshers’ week, despite everyone else partying. And there is never a shortage of editors happy to have a drink and talk publishing. However, the author, Gary Smith, is particularly nervous and he and I have worked closely these last few months. His agent can’t make it tonight, which makes me think it is even more likely that Lenny will appear in his place. Plus Gary’s wife has to work and his kids are away studying, so he’s coming alone. I can’t let him down.

  Bubbles is his debut. Gary works on the bins, which was a surprise to me and everyone else at Thoth. He’s a modest, middle-aged dad who plays snooker in the pub and goes to the football at the weekend. He left school at sixteen and took the first job he was offered. A swanky book launch is so far out of his comfort zone that we joke he’ll need a geomap to get back. Gary wrote the story when his wife lost her job and had to take a position working nights. The local paper had run an article about a dyslexic teenager who’d just been published, which gave Gary the confidence to have a go as, on the sly, he’d always liked reading his wife’s romance books. Inadvertently, his novel provides a moving insight into his impoverished childhood. Without being preachy, the story sends a strong message that material gains and emotional well-being are not always linked.