Needlemouse

by Jane O'Connor

  Kamal screwed up his eyes in an attempt to better see the light, or indeed the trees, and nodded his head.

  ‘I am here, you know. I can see you and I know you can see me. Can we please stop this?’

  Again, Millie ignored me and spoke to Kamal. I stared at her profile, noticing the lines of strain beginning to show round her eyes and fought down a fleeting urge to slap her hard across the face. Looking round the gallery, I saw Crystal talking to the boy at the front desk and headed towards her with relief. She smiled shyly as I approached and congratulated her on her picture. We giggled a bit about the price tag and she introduced me to her friend.

  ‘Has Mum spoken to you?’ Crystal glanced anxiously over to her parents.

  ‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘She won’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You of all people, Crystal, have nothing to apologise for.’ I touched her cheek and she moved to hold my hand.

  ‘It’s so sad,’ she said, pouting just like she used to do when she was a little girl.

  ‘I know. Your mum is still very angry with me, though.’

  ‘And Dad is as well.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I ask you something, Auntie Sylvia?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Are you in love with Dad?’ Crystal sounded doubtful at her own question.

  ‘Good God, no!’ I couldn’t help but laugh and Crystal looked relieved.

  ‘I didn’t think you were, but I hear them talking about you sometimes and I can’t make it out.’

  ‘I was in love with someone. Not your dad, someone else.’ I paused, and then made myself say it, ‘But he didn’t love me back.’ Crystal went to reply just as Lewis staggered in the door as if on cue. He looked a complete mess and had clearly fallen over on the muddy ground on his way to the gallery. My heart lurched for him as I recognised the determined look on his drunken face. He saw Crystal and started towards her, knocking over a stand of leaflets on his way.

  ‘Crystal, baby …’ He put his arms out to embrace her and she looked utterly horrified at the sight of him.

  ‘No.’ I found myself coming between them. ‘No, Lewis.’ And I took him firmly by the arm and steered him back the way he had come.

  ‘Get off me! Piss off!’ He was angry, but not at all physically aggressive, and I continued guiding him out the door, trying to attract as little attention as possible.

  ‘Lewis, it’s Crystal’s special night. You need to go home,’ I said gently as I got him outside. He crouched down on the pavement and put his head in his hands.

  ‘But she means everything to me.’ He looked up tearfully, like a small child.

  I pulled a tissue out of my bag and handed it to him. ‘She knows that, Lewis, but now is not the time. Don’t ruin it for her.’

  He sat sniffing for a while longer and we talked a little bit about the hurt of unreturned feelings, like the experts that we both are.

  Finally, he stood up and nodded in drunken sincerity. ‘No, you’re right. I don’t want to wreck this for her.’

  ‘There’s a good boy, best you go home to bed.’ I held his arm as he steadied himself and watched him weave his way back down the road, muttering to himself about how tonight wasn’t the right time.

  As I turned to go back into the gallery I saw Martha standing in the doorway, arms crossed, holding a flute of champagne. ‘You averted a scene there, thanks for that, Sylvia. There always seems to be at least one fuming ex who turns up on opening evenings; it’s all rather predictable.’

  ‘He’s not her ex-boyfriend. More a thwarted love interest, I think.’ I didn’t want Martha assuming Crystal was like her, discarding loyal lovers for more exciting offers as and when the mood took her, regardless of the hurt she caused.

  ‘Well, you know what they say – “unrequited love’s a bore”. You should know that better than most.’ She didn’t say it unkindly and she toasted me with her glass as she drained the last of the champagne. ‘We’ve all been fools in love, Sylvia, and Carl has a particular way of making women feel special. It’s all for his own ends, though, that’s what you have to remember. It’s how he gets people to do things for him and how he gets to sail through life being everyone’s hero, but never actually being there when anyone needs him. He’s a child, Sylvia, and I’m sorry you lost your job over him. He’s not worth it.’

  I stood rooted to the spot as she spoke.

  ‘He broke my heart and destroyed our family, all for a leg-over with the au pair, who he also dumped as soon as she started making demands on him, by the way. He’s a shit, Sylvia. A charming, articulate, intelligent, handsome shit – but a shit all the same.’

  It had stopped raining by now but passing cars were still swooshing in the ground water and the laughter and chatter from inside the gallery seemed to be coming from a faraway place. I didn’t want to hear it, but why would she lie to me? What did she have to gain? I had already been humiliated, lost my job, lost everything. She was looking at me intently and I met her concerned gaze in what felt like a completely truthful moment between the two of us.

  I nodded and she smiled and dipped back into the warmth and light of the gallery, leaving me alone on the damp pavement to process what she had said. I could sense the last vestiges of Prof fading away. My gentle, funny, kind Prof, to be replaced by a hard, mean, self-centred man called Carl Lomax whom I barely knew and wasn’t even sure if I liked. I wanted to reach out and grab hold of the person I had been in love with for so many years, the one who had made me feel safe and hopeful and who had saved me from disappearing into the bleakest place imaginable. But he no longer existed and I felt for a moment that I might disintegrate right there on the pavement as Prof turned into fragments like the light in Crystal’s drawing.

  Crystal peered out after a few minutes and pulled me back to reality. ‘Auntie Sylvia, has Lewis gone? Are you coming back in?’

  My instinct was to slink off home away from Martha, away from Kamal and Millie, back to my own private refuge, but I forced myself to go back in for Crystal, head held high. I told her how proud I was of her and she gave me a lovely hug, then we both had a glass of champagne and she showed me a couple of pictures that she particularly liked. We were deep in conversation about a peculiar collage of London Bridge when Millie appeared at my left elbow like a bouncer.

  ‘When are you leaving?’ she asked. ‘Kamal and I are trying to enjoy our daughter’s special night. It’s a family occasion.’

  She emphasised the word family in a completely unnecessary manner, presumably intended to drive home the fact that I was no longer to consider myself part of theirs. I don’t know if it was the champagne or the revelations of the evening or Millie’s serious face or her ridiculous dress or a combination of it all, but I started to laugh, really laugh, for the first time in a long time.

  Kamal came rushing over, flapping his hands saying, ‘What’s happening? She’s hysterical. You see, she’s a madwoman.’ And that made me laugh even more.

  ‘Yes, Kamal, I’m mad. Mad, bad and sad. Just like you.’ Turning to Millie I said, ‘Enjoy your family evening,’ then I kissed a bemused-looking Crystal on the cheek, walked out and left them to it.

  I got a text from Crystal later, thanking me for helping with Lewis and saying sorry if Mum and Dad had spoiled my evening. I texted back, reassuring her that Millie and Kamal hadn’t spoiled my evening at all.

  Wednesday 27 April

  I was required to go into the university today for a meeting with Human Resources about my severance pay and pension scheme. It felt slightly unreal doing my usual commute in the middle of the afternoon without the usual familiar faces, and I had to buy a travelcard as my season ticket had expired. The scenery from the train window was reassuringly familiar and yet it seemed that I was observing it all on a screen, or that the whole day was happening to somebody else. I had a mild panic as I approached the external door to our building. I had to ring the bell as my security card had been taken from me as part of m
y humiliating exit interview back in November. The office I was headed for was at the top of the building, so I had to go past the third floor in the lift, but mercifully no one I recognised travelled up with me.

  The meeting was conducted by one of the human resources robots in a professional manner, with euphemisms used all over the place to avoid having to say I was fired and that I was never coming back to my old position. The financial aspects were sorted out. I can draw my pension early, thank goodness, and that, along with my savings and the fact I own my flat outright, with no mortgage, means that at least I don’t have to worry about money. I was given a standard reference, saying how long I had worked at the university and in what capacity – with no mention of why I had left.

  ‘Now, do you have any questions?’ the woman asked perfunctorily, as she handed over the paperwork.

  ‘Yes, just one.’ I couldn’t help myself, I had to know. ‘Could you tell me who has taken over my job? Are you hiring someone new or …’

  ‘As far as I am aware, an existing member of Professor Lomax’s administrative team has been promoted into the role of his personal assistant.’

  ‘Margaret Davidson?’ I asked tightly, bracing myself for the sting of confirmation.

  The woman nodded. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said before throwing me another curveball.

  ‘Before you go Miss Penton, Professor Lomax has asked that you be given the opportunity to apologise to Lola Maguire for attempting to, erm, discredit her academic reputation and for your behaviour towards her in general. Would you be willing to do that? If so, Ms Maguire is waiting in the room next door.’

  I started to tremble and could feel the familiar blush running up my neck onto my face. How could they just spring this on me? Was this even allowed? I was completely put on the spot and the human resources woman regarded me with a plastic smile, waiting placidly for a response.

  ‘Oh … I suppose so, yes.’

  ‘Come this way.’ She bustled out and I followed her down the corridor and into the next room along, a small office with a desk and two chairs, one either side. Lola sat facing the door and I sat down meekly opposite her, feeling like a recalcitrant child, summoned in front of the headmistress. She was wearing thick glasses, her hair was a tangled mess, and she looked tired and fed up, a far cry from the fairy queen of Rome. She looked at me expectantly as I cleared my throat.

  ‘I’m … I’m sorry,’ I stammered.

  ‘Is that it?’ she asked.

  ‘Please accept my apology. I was wrong to follow you both to Rome and I was wrong to try and make trouble for you.’ I said it as if I was reading off a list written by someone else.

  ‘I don’t understand why you did it. Is it just about this absurd infatuation that you have for Professor Lomax? He told me all about it, by the way. It’s pathetic, Sylvia, as if he’d ever be interested in an old one like you!’ She let that hang unpleasantly in the air for a moment before adding, ‘Or do you hate me for some other reason?’

  I didn’t answer that. I looked past her out the window as she spoke, watching the JCBs moving jerkily around the building site of the new library.

  ‘This opportunity to study with Professor Lomax means everything to me,’ she said, putting her hand on her chest for emphasis. ‘I don’t know if you know this, but the year after Ned was born my partner couldn’t handle it and he left me, left us, and I have never been so scared and alone in my life. Have you any idea how hard it is to be a single parent, Sylvia?’

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer her question or not, but the pause went on for longer than I had expected, so I acknowledged quietly that I didn’t have any idea about that. I restrained myself from asking if she had ever considered that it may be even harder for some people not to be a parent at all.

  ‘It has been a really tough ride for me and my boy. This PhD and the possibility of the academic career I’ve always wanted has been a dream come true. I never thought good things could happen for me again. And Carl – I mean, Professor Lomax – was so supportive and encouraging that I started to believe it was possible. And then you. You came along and tried to destroy it … so spiteful and vindictive. You upset me badly and you frightened Ned. He calls you the nasty lady and I have to reassure him that you have gone out of our lives for ever. You behaved in a completely unprofessional way.’

  ‘I am sorry – I never meant to frighten Ned.’ I realised with a pang of guilt that I hadn’t given a thought to how my actions might have affected him. ‘I am truly sorry about that.’ I paused, sensing Lola enjoying her status as the noble woman wronged. Still, I had to go on, ‘But you were having a sexual relationship with Professor Lomax, weren’t you? Maybe you still are? I don’t call that conduct particularly professional either.’

  The victim persona fell swiftly from Lola. It didn’t suit her anyway. She’s far too canny for that. Her eyes flashed with anger behind her glasses and she pointed her finger at me, saying, ‘That is none of your business, it’s got nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Well, I’ve obviously hit a nerve, and for that, again, I apologise. Good luck with your studies, Ms Maguire. Send my regards to Professor Lomax and tell him he needs to buy some more grown-up boxer shorts.’

  With that I got up and left the room, Lola’s stunned face an image to treasure for a long time. The HR woman was waiting expectantly just outside the door. ‘Did it all go OK?’ she asked with a vague wave of her hand.

  ‘Yes, fine, thank you,’ I said as I swept past her into the waiting lift.

  I stopped at the flower sellers at the station on the way home and bought myself a bunch of yellow roses – out of season, ridiculously expensive, but oh so beautiful.

  Sunday 8 May

  There’s a patch of grassy woodland at the edge of the park where we let recovered hedgehogs back into the wild. The garden of one of Paula’s friend’s backs on to the area and she always puts down food and water for visiting hogs, so Jonas feels reassured that by releasing them here he’s giving them the very best chance of survival. Today was the turn of a big old boar that Sophie had named Guy. He had been with us since early November when a couple of local Scouts had found him close to death in the smouldering ashes of their annual bonfire. I didn’t think he’d make it – his spikes were singed, his feet and nose horribly blistered and he was struggling to breathe – but Jonas worked his magic and we all marvelled at how he pulled back from the brink and came back to life over the following weeks and months. It was quite an occasion for us, letting him go, and Sophie and her little sister Natalie had joined us to see Guy on his way. We crouched in hushed silence, watching as Jonas pulled open the front of the box, and he came slowly out, snuffling around in the long grass, eventually wandering off in the direction of a pile of fallen branches.

  ‘That’s him, then,’ Jonas said, leaning on a tree stump to help himself up. ‘He’ll be right. He’s a strong lad, that one.’

  ‘Goodbye, Guy, and good luck,’ Sophie whispered, giving him a solemn wave while Natalie blew him a string of kisses.

  ‘Yes, good luck,’ I echoed quietly as he disappeared back into his own world. ‘Do you think they ever remember being at the sanctuary or think about us again once they’ve gone?’ I asked, turning to Jonas.

  ‘I don’t reckon so,’ he said, pulling on his hat. ‘They’re too busy trying to stay alive to ponder on the past.’

  ‘Maybe they dream about us when they have their long sleep in the winter?’ Sophie said hopefully, taking hold of her grandad’s hand. Jonas chuckled at that. ‘Maybe, sweetheart,’ he said. Natalie took Sophie’s other hand and I took hers and we made our way back to the car where Katie was waiting to take us home.

  After Katie and the girls had gone I found myself still at Jonas’s, pottering around, tidying up the hanging baskets and sweeping the patio, reluctant, I suppose, to go back to the empty flat. Jonas was sitting on the bench patiently throwing Igor’s rubber chicken over and over again, telling him he was a good boy and scr
atching him behind the ears when he brought it back.

  ‘Do you ever feel lonely, Jonas?’ I asked, leaning on my broom and watching the game.

  ‘Aye, lass, sometimes,’ he replied after a few moments thought.

  ‘How do you bear it, though? Losing the one you loved?’

  I knew it was too much to ask, really, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to know if there was an answer, a secret coping strategy that he could share with me to make it all less painful. I regretted my impetuousness as he took off his glasses and wiped the corner of his eye, the game with Igor momentarily forgotten.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jonas, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ I said, coming to sit beside him, not knowing what to say to make it better. Igor popping up in front of us, chicken in mouth, broke the tension perfectly and Jonas blew his nose and started to laugh.

  ‘What a rum bunch we are, eh, Sylvia?’ he said as he grabbed the toy and played tug with the dog. ‘You, me, Igor, the hedgehogs. Even Jack and Jill. We’re all lost and broken in our own way, washed up together in this little corner of London, clinging on for dear life.’

  ‘Looking after each other,’ I said, and we shared a knowing smile at the sheer ridiculousness of it and the sadness of it, and because we both know that Hartland Road is as much a sanctuary for us as it is for the hedgehogs.

  After we had given the hogs their last feed, Jonas went into the house to get us a couple of blankets and we sat on the garden bench late into the night, with Igor asleep across our laps, chatting quietly and watching as the sky blurred over and the stars began to appear. Walking home through the deserted streets I hesitated for a moment at the turning that would take me towards Dulwich. I stood there, waiting for the familiar flutter of excitement or the ache of longing to compel me to make my way to Prof’s house, but I felt nothing of the sort, so I kept on going, straight back to my flat.