Authors: Merryn Allingham
When I got back to Thetford Road, I looked closely at myself in the mirror for the first time in weeks, but it wasn’t the hair that caught my attention. It was the eyes. There are times when my eyes shine a brilliant green and as such they’re very noticeable. They were noticeable now but for the wrong reason. They looked huge, out of all proportion. I’d lost weight—I often felt nauseous these days and wasn’t eating well—and I looked haggard. The rejuvenation took one step back. My problem, I reasoned, was that I was depressed: I had no home, no money and no job, and Nick wasn’t exactly helping.
Almost his first words each night were, ‘Any luck?’ Tonight he followed the question with a renewed plea that I talk to Lucy since he was sure she could help me find work.
‘I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn.’
‘It’s called being independent.’
‘Independence is all very well, but it doesn’t pay bills.’
‘No, you do,’ I finished for him.
‘Look, Grace, I’m not rubbing it in, honestly. I just think you could make more effort.’
‘Are you suggesting that I’m not trying to find a job?’
‘Initially you were trying hard, I guess, but now you seem to have given up.’
He was right of course. I had.
‘And I can understand that. God knows, I’ve been there, too.’ He was trying to sound solicitous. ‘But a regular salary makes life a good deal easier. So why not give Lucy a try? If we were both working, we could think about moving out of this hovel.’
‘Move?’ I’d almost stopped listening, but at this I was jolted awake.
‘I’m not saying we should move immediately. Sort the job first, and then we can look around.’
It all sounded easy, but it wasn’t. Lucy’s offer of help was generous, but I couldn’t accept it. It would feel too much like surrendering my liberty. Foolish, I know, but I’d had to dig deep to find the strength to break free of Oliver’s sway, and I was stupidly scared of the possibility, no matter how remote, of handing myself over to someone else’s control. I had to find the job for myself and right now a job wasn’t there. But the conversation left me feeling guiltier than ever over my lack of earning power. It also spurred me on to do the only thing I could, which was to write. Overnight I decided I would try to tell the first part of Alessia’s and Lucas’s story, part fact, part speculation, and even though I felt more queasy than usual the next morning, I buckled down to it. Getting involved in writing helped me forget just how foul I felt. It also made me forget about making dinner. We’d fallen into the age-old pattern of breadwinner and helpmeet, and I’d taken on the responsibility of cooking. I was a terrible cook, but either Nick was too tired to care when he got back from work or he considered it was the least I could do to contribute.
I imagine the latter. To say he was irritated by the lack of food that night was an understatement.
‘Couldn’t you even get a meal together,’ he huffed and puffed. ‘I’ve been working all day.’
‘So have I.’
‘You’ve been to work?’ He sounded incredulous.
‘I didn’t say that. I said I’ve been working all day. I’ve been writing an article, and I’ve got an idea where I might try to place it.’
‘I thought for a moment you’d got a real job.’
There it was again: that echo of Oliver. His voice sounded down the weeks with crushing effect:
The work you do is nothing work
.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that.’ Nick looked ashamed but soon recovered. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked Lucy to pop round tomorrow evening and have a chat.’
‘About what?’ I said dangerously.
‘She can help you. She meets a huge number of people through her PR business. She rang me today with a possibility. She’s met a businessman who’s desperate for a PA. He’s an entrepreneur from Slovakia, or is it Romania? Anyway his PA got homesick and went back to Bratislava and he can’t find anyone suitable. He’s willing to pay a pile.’
‘I’m not a PA,’ I said even more dangerously.
‘You helped Oliver.’
‘Oliver was my partner. Your shady dealer from Eastern Europe isn’t.’
‘How do you know he’s shady? You’re far too judgmental.’
‘And you’re far too interfering.’
It was the first time we’d come close to a serious quarrel. I’d been looking forward to talking the article over with him and had hoped for some enthusiasm. This might after all turn out to be my new career. Instead he’d suggested a questionable job and seemed to think I should be grateful. I didn’t even bother with the pretence of making a meal after that and Nick soon trudged off to find the nearest pizza. I was still feeling unwell and glad of the excuse to go to bed early. But I didn’t sleep and when he arrived in the room, I busied myself pretending.
‘Grace?’
I didn’t answer.
‘I know you’re awake, so speak to me. This is silly.’
I had to agree. ‘What is it?’
‘I know things have been a bit rough for you lately. In a way I feel responsible. I don’t know if you’d have left Oliver if I hadn’t been around.’
I said nothing because I didn’t know either. I preferred not to think about it.
‘And I haven’t been much help, it’s true. I’ve been working so hard, trying to get my feet under the desk—literally—that I’ve forgotten how to enjoy myself. What we both need is some fun back in our lives.’
‘What do you suggest?’ I was cautious.
‘We could start small. My senior editor is a really nice guy and we get on well. He wants us to go to dinner at his house. It should be a great evening, very civilised. There aren’t any kids—Hughie values his freedom too much. It’s just him and his wife.’
‘Where does he live?’ I asked idly, imagining at best a small detached on a suburban estate.
‘Funnily enough, Hampstead.’
Nothing funny about that. ‘Hampstead?’
‘He’s got a big house on Millfield Lane, near one of the ponds.’
‘And he’s in publishing? There must be some mistake.’ I hoped I didn’t sound too acid.
‘Inherited money, I think,’ Nick said easily and then when I was silent, ‘Surely it doesn’t matter.’
‘No, why should it?’
It didn’t matter. I supposed I had a mild prejudice against inherited wealth because of the unfair opportunities it gives those lucky enough to have it, but it wasn’t what was making me pause. It was the feeling that I was once more being pushed unwillingly into somebody else’s world. I’m sure it must be good for couples to share their lives, but this wouldn’t be sharing. Nick wouldn’t be sharing
my
world because I didn’t have one. I only inhabited others’—first Oliver’s, now his. I was being unreasonable, I knew, but I’d had enough of glass cages.
‘I’ll see,’ I said, and with that he had to be content.
* * *
Lucy turned up the next evening, her face apprehensive and darting worried glances at me. It was as though I was a wild animal she couldn’t be sure of, unpredictable and possibly dangerous. She’d brought flowers, huge great lilies that looked out of place in the basement’s dingy rooms. I put them in the only large container we had, a plastic bucket, and then they simply looked dejected.
I was ready for her to start selling me the Eastern European gentleman, but she didn’t. She was careful in fact not to mention work at all, so I thought I’d throw her a lifeline or a grenade. I wasn’t sure which I meant it to be.
‘I’ve got some commissions,’ I said brightly.
‘That’s great.’ There was a pause. ‘What are they exactly?’ She sounded vague, distracted even. She evidently found me deeply unsettling.
‘I used to have my own business in property research, heritage stuff, you know.’ I didn’t know if she did, but I didn’t much care.
‘I met one of my old clients quite by chance a few weeks ago and he wanted me to do a follow-up on the report I wrote. He phoned me this morning and he’s passed my number on to one of his colleagues who’s interested in using me.’
‘What good news. I’m so pleased. Does that mean you’ll be restarting your business?’
She was a little too eager. Nick must have been talking, encouraging her to encourage me. Or was I just paranoid?
‘I don’t think so—not on a permanent basis. I have other ideas.’ I hoped I sounded mysterious.
She smiled glassily and as Nick arrived between us with wine and glasses at that moment, I was spared further interrogation. Not for long though.
‘Nick and I were talking on the phone the other day, Grace.’ So I wasn’t paranoid. ‘We were saying that it was time we went up to Gloucestershire for a weekend to see the parents.’
I nodded absently. The chance of a couple of days alone in Thetford Road was appealing.
‘We thought it would be a good opportunity for you to meet Mum and Dad.’
I still nodded absently. I wasn’t really listening. I was busy deciding just how I would spend my two days free of Nick.
‘We could go up by train together,’ she was saying uncertainly, ‘or I could drive. That might be the better option. What do you think?’
I suddenly realised she was including me in the plans. ‘I’m going to be busy this weekend,’ I said quickly.
‘It doesn’t have to be this weekend does it, Nick?’
Nick shook his head vigorously. He wasn’t going to help me out. ‘Next weekend or the one after that is fine. The olds are pretty flexible. You name the day.’
I looked at their shining faces and felt trapped. If I said no, what would that say about my relationship with Nick? If I prevaricated, they would keep on suggesting dates until they got a definite answer. I was angry with him. He should have discussed the visit with me before letting his sister loose; then I might have been able to explain how I felt, to myself as much as to him. With Lucy smiling benignly a foot away, it was impossible. But I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to meet his parents. It was too soon and too difficult.
‘Yes,’ I heard myself saying, ‘why don’t we make it the week after next.’
When she’d gone, Nick came up to me while I was washing up and put his hands around my waist. ‘Thank you.’
‘Why?’
‘I know you’re not crazy about going to Gloucestershire but thanks for doing it for me.’
I felt guilty. I was doing it because I had no other option. He slid his hands upwards and started undoing my shirt. I felt sore and tired, but I didn’t have the heart to push him away. He was working his socks off and I hadn’t been the pleasantest of companions lately. I abandoned the dishes and allowed myself to be scooped up and carried lopsidedly into the bedroom. We plummeted onto the bed in a tangled heap of limbs, laughing and breathless. This was the person I’d fallen for in those strange two days in Dorchester, a person who nowadays disappeared for increasingly long stretches of time. I wondered how long it would be before the man I hardly recognised returned.
* * *
On the following day, I dressed as smartly as I could and sallied forth to meet my new client, who had offices in Bloomsbury. It turned out to be a fairly brief meeting and a fairly sparse commission, but at least it was a start and he assured me that his colleague, Jessica Hanley, would be contacting me in the next few days. With time to spare, I walked to nearby Somerset House hoping to do a small part of the research I’d need to complete the work he wanted done. It would save me a journey later in the week; I was still feeling weary and anything that conserved energy was good. I was beginning to have some unwelcome suspicions and after I’d left Somerset House and was on my way to the bus stop, I dived into a pharmacy. If I could get back to Thetford Road before Nick returned, I’d have time to do the test today. I didn’t want to know the result, but I had to find out. Locked into a string of difficult thoughts, I wasn’t looking where I was going.
‘Grace!’ The man I’d cannoned into was holding out his arms. I blinked. Oliver of all people!
‘How wonderful to meet you like this,’ he was enthusing. ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch, but I’ve failed dismally. Your mobile doesn’t seem to be working.’
It wouldn’t, I thought, not from the bottom of Hampstead Pond. The day that I’d cleared my belongings from Lyndhurst Villas, I’d wanted to make a complete break from the past. Oliver had no idea where I was living and, without my old mobile, no means of contacting me.
He was still smiling fondly, as though he couldn’t quite believe the present he’d been given. ‘Do come and have a drink.’
‘It’s three in the afternoon, Oliver.’
‘I know, but I’ve just had lunch at the BBC. They’re reduced to bottled water. Tap water next no doubt.’
I let myself be shepherded into the nearest pub, which smelt so strongly of beer that I almost retched.
‘Are you all right?’ His face peered anxiously at me. I noticed then that he’d shaved off his beard.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ I took a deep breath. ‘It’s just a bit potent in here.’
‘Let’s go into the lounge bar, the air might be clearer there.’
It was marginally fresher, and I let him order me a fruit juice and hoped I would keep it down.
‘Shouldn’t you be at the gallery?’ I suppose I had an idea of putting him on the back foot.
‘Not for an hour, and I’m so pleased to see you.’ He looked it and I felt my heart soften. ‘So how are you doing?’
‘Good,’ I was economical with the truth. ‘I’ve decided to continue the business and I’ve got commissions coming in all the time.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. I did wonder—you seemed quite adamant about not carrying on.’
‘Words said in haste, and that kind of thing.’
‘We both said words in haste, and I’ve been repenting mine ever since.’ He took my hand and held it. His long fingers were warm and clasped mine tightly. ‘I miss you, Grace.’
I was touched, but I needed to steel myself against any false reconciliation.
‘I didn’t value what I had until it was no longer there,’ he was saying. ‘If you would reconsider…’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think it’s ever a good idea to go back, Oliver. I’m sorry that things didn’t work out between us but very pleased to see you again. I hated parting on such bad terms.’
He clasped my fingers even more tightly. ‘I hated that, too. Don’t think I don’t understand your wish to move on—I do—and I promise I won’t pester you to think again. But I want you to know that you are welcome back at Lyndhurst Villas any time you want to climb the hill. And on your terms.’