by Hannah Tovey
‘Thank you,’ I said.
I tried to act normal, but I didn’t know what normal was in these circumstances. I put some music on and poured us both a drink. As I was stirring the tomato sauce, Scott asked me to dance with him. I lasted all of ten seconds before I had to stop.
I walked away from him, back to the hob.
‘Please stop shutting me out,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to talk to you since New Year’s Eve. You need to remember that this is just as much of a shock to me as it is to you.’
I wondered if this was true. He said he’d always wanted to live in LA.
‘What do you want to do?’ I asked. ‘Do you want to go?’
‘I don’t want to mess this – us – up.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘They want me to go out next week,’ he said. ‘It would only be a trial run.’
‘Next week?’
‘I was thinking you could come out with me, to suss it out? You said you’ve always wanted to go.’
‘I’m in school. How could I?’
‘You could take leave?’
‘Not in the middle of term I can’t. I’m only in Holloway for six weeks.’
My stomach was in knots. This wasn’t how I saw this going.
‘You said you were a workaholic until you met me,’ I said. ‘Is this what you were working towards – a new life, in America?’
‘No … my boss mentioned an opportunity a few months back, but nothing more was said.’
‘You never mentioned that to me. Why?’
‘There wasn’t anything to say.’
‘What happens if you go next week?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know … I’d meet the team, get to know some of the clients. See if it’s the right fit, I guess.’
‘How long will you be gone for?’
‘Three weeks.’
‘Sorry, what are you saying? That you want to go out for three weeks, or for good?’
‘I think I need to go out for three weeks. Then we can look at our options. We can make this work.’
‘What are our options, though?’ I asked him. ‘Our options are you moving there, me staying here. Those are our options.’
‘Don’t say it like that.’
‘But that’s it, isn’t it? Options are whether I want a starter or dessert. Do I pay three quid for a posh coffee or have instant? Those are options, Scott. This? This is bullshit.’
40
I allowed myself to be angry for all of forty-eight hours, then I stood in front of the mirror and told myself to get it together. It was only three weeks. I would relish my new-found independence. I’d focus on school because that’s what I was in control of. I’d make lists and feel immense satisfaction from crossing off completed tasks. I’d finish my job applications for September placements, organise the reference list for my latest essay, meet Dawn for a one-to-one, go see Maude in the care home, take Eleanor to music class, eat less meat, drink less alcohol, go running. I definitely wouldn’t take up smoking again. It would be a time for great personal growth and reflection.
On the other hand, I could use the time to temporarily revert to the me I was trying to keep hidden from Scott. I could lounge about in my period pants, sleep through several alarms, stand in front of the mirror naked and inspect every detail of my body, eat marmite out of the jar, eat Haribo for breakfast. I’d be back to the good old single Ivy, only without the loneliness, desperation and wine bloat.
We devised a plan. When Scott was in LA, he would ring me on his lunch break, or before he went to bed. If we timed it right, we could even speak before I went to work. It was only three weeks. We could do this.
*
‘We’ll never have to miss a date night,’ he said, on the morning of his flight. ‘I can FaceTime you and we can eat together. It’ll be just like I’m here.’
‘Don’t worry about me. You should be going out, having fun.’
If he didn’t ring me every day, I’d be fuming.
‘I’ll try not to return to my old bachelor ways, but I can’t promise anything.’
‘Bachelor ways?’
‘You know – slobbing out in front of the TV with a takeaway, some porn and a six-pack of Bud.’
‘Scott, who are you kidding? You’ll be on your hands and knees every night doing a deep-clean with a bottle of bleach.’
‘I’m going to miss you, Ivy.’
‘It’s only three weeks; if anything, I could use the time away from you.’
‘You’ve changed your tune.’
‘I’m seeing this as an opportunity.’
‘To live your life without me?’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I feel guilty that I spend so much time with you and not enough in the library. Even when I am in the library, I’m thinking about having sex with you, or kissing you, so not seeing you for three weeks might do me some good. I’ll have so much free time, I won’t know what to do with it. Actually, I do, I’ll be in the library. I’ll be so busy that I won’t have a second spare to miss you.’
‘I’ll be busy too, so maybe I won’t miss you.’
‘If this were a competition for who was busiest, I would win.’
‘I love it when you’re sparky,’ he said, pushing me onto the bed.
He took his shirt off and crawled on top of me.
I squeezed him as hard as I could. If I squeezed him until his ribs broke, he wouldn’t be able to go to LA. I wanted to feel him inside me. I held him and put him in, and I gripped his back as we moved together, slowly. He told me over again that he loved me. I kept telling him that I loved him, too.
We held each other for a while afterwards, until we realised the time, and he had to go to the airport. He put on his clothes, picked up his bag, and I walked him to the door.
‘See you in three weeks, my Welsh beauty.’
I grabbed his hair as we kissed, and then he was gone.
The first thing I thought was: I need a cigarette.
I met Mia for brunch that morning at a Greek café in Highgate. She was preparing for a new role as the ill-fated lover of a disgraced shipping heir and thought that a Mediterranean diet would help get her into the right mindset. So far, the diet seemed to consist of her drinking a lot of red wine and eating an inordinate number of sardines. I didn’t have the energy to question her.
Like my mother, Mia likes to share every detail of her life with everyone she meets, regardless of whether they requested the information or not, and after telling the waitress all about her new health regime, she asked me how I was.
‘I’m good,’ I said.
She touched my hand. I moved it away from her.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I will try not to touch you … or look at you … or show any sympathy whatsoever.’
‘Stop acting like someone’s died, Mia.’
‘Have you done something to your skin?’
‘Anna treated me to a facial.’
‘You look sensational. You’re like that diamond the old lady threw into the ocean at the end of Titanic. Cast-off. Ruined.’
‘Why am I ruined?’
‘Ruin is a gift, Ivy. Elizabeth Gilbert said so.’
‘I don’t care what Elizabeth Gilbert says.’
‘You should, she’s basically God.’
‘He’s only going for three weeks.’
‘And we’re sure he’s going? It’s just … remember that bloke I was seeing before Noah? He said that he was moving to Dubai, but he only moved to Putney. He lied about the whole emigration thing to get away from me.’
‘I wonder why.’
‘Listen, why don’t you come to the farm with me next weekend?’
‘I don’t have seven hundred pounds to spend on a night in a barn.’
‘What about the money from your grandfather?’
‘It’s for food, rent and my course. Some of us pay our own rent, Mia.’
‘They give you a fancy juice blender on departure.’
‘I thought you were saving for the wedding?’
‘I am. But it’s important to get out of London and find the space to re-connect with myself before becoming a married woman.’
I poked the egg with my fork and watched the yolk run out onto the plate.
‘What are you doing this week?’ she asked. ‘Why don’t we do something fun?’
‘I can’t, I have too much work on.’
‘Ivy, live a little.’
‘I am living.’
‘But we haven’t been out in ages.’
‘What about Christmas, and New Year’s? That was only a couple of weeks ago.’
‘You’re always working these days, it’s so boring.’
I put the fork down and got my stuff. ‘I’m going to go,’ I said.
‘You’ve not even finished your food.’
‘I need to go before I say something I’ll regret.’
‘Ivy, I’m sorry. Please – sit down.’
‘I need to see Anna.’
‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘I’ll call you later,’ I said.
She got out of her seat to stop me, but I walked right past her and out of the café.
The next weekend, I woke up early and punished myself with a ten-miler in the wind and hail. I hadn’t run in weeks, and my lungs were on fire due to all the smoking, so when I say a ten-miler, what I mean is that I ran for two, before I gave up and chain-smoked for the other eight. I would stop smoking tomorrow.
On the bus to see Maude, I composed a message to Scott.
‘I can’t help but feel upset with you. It’s the second night in a row where you haven’t called.’
I stopped typing and deleted the message.
‘Hi Scott. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to send a text message. I know you’re busy, but you can text when you’re on the toilet.’
I deleted that one, too.
‘Hi Scott. STOP HAVING FUN AND CALL YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.’
I pictured him in a glamorous bar, the sort that has table service and leggy blondes as waitresses. Californian women are so intimidating; they’re so effortlessly attractive and chipper. I put my phone away and got out my reflective journal. Today’s entry read: This is the pits.
I found Maude sitting by the window, knitting yet another cardigan for one of her friend’s great-grandchildren. I handed her a bouquet of orange roses, and some tea and biscuits from the Fortnum & Mason hamper that Nancy’s mother Sharon had bought me for Christmas. I knew there was a reason I went into teaching: luxury gifts.
‘Happy New Year, Maude.’
‘My darling, thank you.’
She eyed the cake beside me.
‘You can’t keep on baking us cakes, Ivy. Bill’s put on two stone since he met you.’
‘It’s not my fault he eats ten scotch eggs a day. Someone needs to project manage that man’s diet.’
She put the cardigan down and reached under her wheelchair, where she took out a parcel wrapped in The Snowman Christmas paper.
‘What’s this?’ I asked.
‘It’s for Eleanor. I’ve knitted her a little jumper. Does she wear green? It’s more of a jade green. I hope she likes it.’
I gave her a cwtch.
‘You are the kindest woman, Maude. Thank you so much. Anna will love it.’
‘Do you have any new photos of Eleanor you can show me?’
‘I’ve got something better than that,’ I said.
I turned around and waved at Anna, who was standing by the entrance of the living room. She picked Eleanor up from the pram and walked over to us. Maude could barely contain herself.
‘It’s so good to finally meet you,’ Anna said.
Maude took Anna’s hand in hers and kissed it. ‘I can’t believe it. You’ve made my day.’
We all sat down, and Anna asked Maude if she wanted to hold Eleanor.
‘She’s quite the flirt,’ Anna said, ‘but watch out for your necklace; it’ll be in her mouth within seconds.’
‘I can’t remember the last time I held a baby,’ she said. ‘She’s so precious, isn’t she, Ivy?’
‘She has the face of an angel,’ Anna said.
Maude laughed, unable to take her eyes off Eleanor. I caught Anna’s eye and knew what she was thinking – she was thinking about Gramps. I took her hand in mine and we both watched Maude stroke Eleanor’s plump cheeks.
‘Right, tell me,’ Maude said, getting comfortable, ‘what’s been going on with you?’
‘Scott’s gone to LA.’
‘I loathe California,’ she said.
I laughed. ‘You can’t loathe the whole of California, Maude.’
‘There are no pavements. Everyone drives.’
‘They’ve got the most famous pavement in the world – Hollywood Boulevard.’
‘He’ll be gone for three weeks,’ Anna said.
‘What’s the fuss about?’
‘There’s no fuss,’ I said.
Anna made a face.
‘OK, there’s some fuss,’ I said.
‘Three weeks is no time at all,’ Maude said. ‘I once went two and a half years without seeing Martin when he was in New Zealand. A letter every three months kept us going.’
‘He’s been offered a job over there,’ I said.
‘She’s worried he’ll take it,’ Anna said to Maude.
‘What’s wrong with his job here?’ she asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘Sometimes I think you overcomplicate things, Ivy.’
‘I admit I have allowed Dilys to creep back in, but I’m over that now. I’m using this as an opportunity.’
Anna laughed. ‘If you use that word one more time … ’
‘Sometimes when I feel anxious and Dilys is on me, I think, what would Gramps do,’ I said to Maude.
‘He’d tell you straight, Ivy. Sometimes you need to be told.’
‘That’s a direct quote from him.’
‘He sounds like my type of person.’
‘He was everyone’s type of person,’ Anna said. ‘No, that’s a lie. Lots of people thought he was intolerable.’
‘Have you told Scott what you want?’ Maude asked.
‘He knows.’
Anna made another face.
‘OK, OK,’ I said, ‘I’ll make it crystal clear when he comes back.’
‘Good,’ Maude said. ‘So we can stop making a mountain out of a molehill?’
‘I like you, Maude,’ Anna said.
Before I could respond, Bill approached us. He was wearing a train conductor’s outfit, with a wooden whistle in one hand and a pocket watch in the other. Maude was right, he had put on a substantial amount of weight.
‘Ivy, you’re late.’ He looked at Anna. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is my sister, Anna,’ I said, ‘and her daughter, Eleanor.’
Bill cast a critical eye over Anna. ‘I don’t have a ticket for Anna,’ he said.
‘A ticket for what?’
‘The train! It’s leaving in seven minutes, we must hurry.’
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Maude said. ‘We can get the next train.’
‘I suppose we could catch the three forty-two,’ he said, looking at his pocket watch.
‘Bill, I’ve got something for you,’ I said.
I got out the gift bag and handed it to him.
‘What on earth is this?’ he asked.
‘It’s a tea towel, and that’s Princess Diana.’
‘I know full well who she is, but why on earth do you have this on your person?’
‘Maude said you were a fan. I thought you’d like it.’
‘Fan! I’m absolutely nothing of the sort. I was always on Camilla’s side.’
Maude looked at me and begged me to leave it.
‘I’m sorry, Bill,’ I said. ‘I must have gotten the wrong end of the stick.’
He held the tea towel close to his chest.
‘I suppose the gestur
e is rather kind,’ he said. ‘And it would look good in my collection. Fine. I’ll take it.’
He took off his hat, bowed and started walking backwards into the kitchen.
‘Where are the scones?’ he shouted. ‘For goodness’ sakes, people, this is meant to be a tea party!’
Anna and I looked at Maude and we all laughed as Eleanor tried to eat Maude’s necklace. For a moment, I forgot what we were talking about.
41
I walked into Dawn’s office at UCL. There were all sorts of gym paraphernalia lying around the room, and she was drinking a vanilla-coloured protein shake.
‘What’s all this?’ I asked.
‘The weights? I’m fifty this year, Ivy, everything’s about to sag.’
I read today’s slogan tee: ‘When others quit, I get going’.
‘What are you doing for the big five-O?’ I asked, sitting down.
‘Me and the girls are going to Vegas.’
‘Wow, you are full of surprises, Dawn.’
‘Do you lift?’
‘Lift what?’
‘These,’ she said, lifting a dumbbell above her head.
‘No. I haven’t been to the gym in decades.’
‘You came in wearing your joggers last week?’
‘I’d run out of clean clothes.’
She shook her head at me.
‘Bad joke,’ I said. ‘So, Vegas?’
‘This isn’t about me. How is school? You’ve only got a couple of weeks left of this placement.’
‘I think I’m in love with Mrs Bell. Do you know she knows all the words to every children’s book and song ever written? I’m in awe of her.’
‘I knew you’d like her.’
‘I do – very much.’
‘Have you finished your application yet?’
‘Almost. I took your feedback on board, for the personal statement. I made it a bit more … personal.’
She looked right at me as she inhaled on her vape.
‘How are you feeling about it all?’ she asked.
‘You know what? I’ve done everything I can possibly do. I’m at peace with it now.’
‘That’s a healthy attitude.’
‘If I don’t get accepted for my NQT placement in September I will have a calamitous emotional breakdown, similar to, but not as bad as, the one I had two years ago. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’