‘Okay,’ said Rachel, a little unsteadily.
I could hear the concern in her voice; I knew she wanted me to explain myself, but I couldn’t. Ever since hearing about Olivia I’d felt weird, unsettled somehow. As if nothing I was doing made sense any more.
‘Have you told the kids that you’ve quit your job?’
‘No. There’s no need. I’ll tell them I’m taking some unused holidays. I’ll find another job when we get back from New York and they need never know that their mother lost her marbles briefly.’
‘You definitely want to go to New York, then?’ asked Rachel.
‘Yep. No point staying here. It’s not like I’ve got work to worry about, is it?’
‘Guess not. Hold on a sec.’ I heard her shout to her husband and son. ‘You hear that, you lazy buggers! You’re on your own! I’m off to the Big Apple!’
*
My next call was to my sister, confirming that she was still okay for me and Rachel to come and stay. I neglected to mention my dramatic exit from work. I figured I’d share that with her after we’d had a few drinks.
‘I’m booking myself and Rachel on a flight that leaves next Monday. We get to JFK just after 5 p.m.’
‘That’s awesome. I’m going to arrange for a car to pick you both up. Just look out for a man holding up a sign with your name on it. I can’t wait to see you, Evie. It’s been so long.’
She was right; it had been way too long. I missed her. Growing up, Kate and I had been close. And then we weren’t. For a long time. It was only after Tom was killed that we came together again. Kate was amazing. She’d even moved in with me and the kids for a while. With both our parents gone, we only had each other. It’s no exaggeration when I say that without Kate and Rachel, I would have gone under. No question in my mind. It had been Kate that I called on my darkest day when I’d done the very silly thing; the thing that, if I thought about it for too long, brought me out in a cold ‘what if’ sweat. What if Kate hadn’t answered her phone? What if I’d had more than one packet of paracetamol in the house? Or what if I hadn’t had a violent reaction to the mix of pills and booze and thrown up all over the bathroom floor? I didn’t want to die, not really, but my grief addled brain just made a connection between painkillers and my deep need to feel numb, to make the ache go away. That was what I kept mumbling to Kate, over and over, when she found me on the bathroom floor covered in sick.
‘I just wanted the pain to stop,’ I said, as she pulled me into her arms and rocked me like a frightened child. ‘Why won’t it stop?’
‘You just have to hold onto me for a while longer,’ she’d said. ‘I’m right here, Evie. I’ll always be here.’
And I had; I’d held on for dear life. That day, after she’d cleaned me up and put me to bed, she collected the kids from school and took them out for tea, telling them that Mummy had the flu and she needed to rest. A few days later she packed up her stuff from her flat, returned the keys to her landlord and moved in. Between her and Rachel, they did all the things I wasn’t capable of for those first few months; basic stuff like shopping, cooking, cleaning and school runs. I would lie in bed all day, hiding from the world, but I would always make sure I was up and dressed when Grace and Sam got home from school. I did the best I could manage for them – they became my reason for living and gradually things got better. I found a strength I didn’t even know I had. I went back to work, Kate moved out and Rachel stopped calling me eighteen times a day to check I was still alive. Life moved on and when Kate was offered a job in New York three years ago, I was devastated but happy that something so wonderful was happening for her. I know she toyed with the idea of turning it down, so she wouldn’t have to leave me, but I wouldn’t hear of it.
‘This is your dream. It’s what you’ve worked so hard for.’ She’d brought the letter round to me, and we were sitting at my kitchen table. ‘It’s such an amazing offer, Kate, I can’t let you miss out on it because of me. I won’t.’
‘But I’ll be so far away. What if something happens? What if you need me?’
I reached across the table and took her hand. ‘I’m always going to need you – you’re my sister. But you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.’
She gave me a look that said ‘I don’t believe you’ but I ignored it. ‘It’s been almost seven years, Kate, I think you can finally stop worrying that I’m going to do something stupid to myself. Besides, I’ve got Rachel – she’ll still be here. Don’t worry. Take the job.’
‘You can all come and visit me. It’ll be fun,’ Kate said.
‘Definitely. In fact, we’ll come so often you’ll be sick of us.’
In the end I’d never managed to get there. I couldn’t afford it. Kate would always offer to pay but I didn’t want that and there was a big part of me that didn’t want to go back to New York after everything that happened with Olivia. Which was why I couldn’t quite understand my current desire to go back now. Did I really want to go back to a city that held such bad memories for me? Admittedly it had been a long time ago, but I couldn’t be sure what effect being there again would have on me. Don’t be silly, I told myself, you’re totally different now. You’re a grown woman, you are in total control of your feelings and you will be fine. I was starting to sound like one of those bloody self help manuals that Rachel was always trying to get me to read.
*
I called the kids and told them about my plans – they were surprised but also excited for me. I told them I was going to visit their aunt for the first time in ages. I left out the bit about Olivia’s body possibly being discovered in the woods. I didn’t want to tell them that part over the phone. I told myself I was protecting them but in truth I was protecting myself from an awkward conversation.
‘Mum, that’s awesome,’ said Grace. I’d called her first; if anyone was going to tell me it was a crazy idea, it was going to be her. But she was surprisingly positive.
‘It’s about time you got out of that house and saw a bit of the world. Good for you. Maybe you’ll snag yourself a date whilst you’re out there,’ she said.
Sam was a bit more realistic. ‘What about work?’ was his first question. I briefly toyed with the idea of telling him the truth but thought better of it. He didn’t need to know; he’d only worry.
‘I’ve got loads of holiday time I’ve never taken. They owe it to me. It’s fine.’
‘Okay, well, that’s good. You’ll have a great time with Kate and Rachel. When are you coming back?’
‘I’m only going for a week. I fly out next Monday, so I’ll still have plenty of time to wrap your Christmas prezzies when I get back, don’t worry.’
Sam chuckled. ‘I’m not worried about that. Just look after yourself, all right? I know what Rachel can be like when she gets an idea in her head. Don’t let her talk you into doing anything crazy.’
‘I won’t. You know I’m far too sensible for all that. I love you.’
‘Love you too. Bye, Mum.’
I held onto the phone for a long time after Sam had rung off. Ending phone calls was my least favourite thing to do. When I’d ended what would be my last ever phone call with my husband, it had been a quick ‘bye, see you later’, nothing special. No great declarations of love. In fact, I’d been quite short tempered with him. He’d phoned me at work and I’d been so busy that I hadn’t had time to talk. I’d been stressed and in a bit of a crappy mood.
‘Just wanted to remind you I’m going to be late tonight,’ he’d said. ‘I’ve got those drinks after work I told you about.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ I’d snapped, ‘Look, I’m sorry, love, but I don’t have time to chat. I’m sorry. I’ve got a ton of stuff to get through if I stand any chance of getting out of here on time today.’
‘No problem. I just wanted to remind you, that’s all. I’ll be back about eleven-ish. See you later.’
‘Okay. Bye.’ As I’d put the phone down, I’d heard his voice saying what I think was ‘I love you,’ but I’ll never
know for sure. Tom was killed by a drunk driver as he was driving home from work later that same night. For years I agonised over the fact that I hadn’t told him I loved him too. I’d been in too much of a rush and I’d figured I’d be able to make it up to him later. When he hadn’t come home by midnight, I’d known something wasn’t right. I’d tried calling him repeatedly, but his phone had just kept going straight to voicemail. Don’t be silly, Evie, he’s probably just lost track of time or something. When I’d heard little footsteps on the stairs I’d gone out into the hallway and found Grace standing on the bottom step.
‘Where’s Daddy?’
‘He’s out with some friends, sweetheart. He’ll be back soon. Go back to bed.’
‘I can’t sleep. The rain on my window is making noises. I don’t like it.’
‘I’ll come up with you,’ I’d said, taking her by the hand and leading her back to her room. I’d waited patiently as she’d re-arranged the teddies on the end of her bed; they had to be in a certain order before she could sleep. ‘All done?’ I’d asked, with a smile.
She’d nodded, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. ‘Will you get Daddy to come up and kiss me goodnight when he comes home?’ she’d asked sleepily.
‘You’ll be asleep by then, baby.’
‘I don’t mind. I just want one last kiss from him before the morning.’
‘Okay, I’ll make sure he comes in and gives you a kiss night-night. Now go to sleep, all right?’
‘ʼNight, Mummy. Love you.’
The lump in my throat had meant I couldn’t say it back; I’d just nodded and stroked her cheek. For the next half an hour I’d gone from sitting on the stairs and chewing my fingernails to pacing up and down in the living room and back again; I don’t know why, I just knew something wasn’t right. Tom was so solid and reliable, he wasn’t one to let his phone run out of battery, or stay longer somewhere than he said he would. That was always my job. It was a running joke between us that whatever time I told Tom I’d be somewhere, he always knew to add at least forty minutes.
When I’d heard the front gate squeak open, it had been almost one in the morning and I remember hoping that squeak would be followed by the sound of Tom’s key in the door – but it wasn’t. The gentle tap-tap on the porch glass and the two police officers standing on my doorstep had signalled the end of my life as I’d come to know it.
When you lose someone so suddenly, as I did with Tom, you realise the fragility of your life. At any moment, with no warning, you could lose everything. After Tom’s death, I’d vowed to live life to the full but, ten years later, I was still in the same place, doing the same things. It was time for a change, I told myself. It was time to start living again, and, no matter what the reason for it, the trip to New York seemed like the perfect place to start.
Seven
Living on your own has some perks, I thought, pacing around my kitchen the next morning still in pyjamas and dressing gown; at least I didn’t have to pretend to anyone I was going to work. It was barely eight o’clock, usually way too early for Trish to get to the office, but I wanted to be on at least my second cup of coffee before my phone started ringing. I had thought I wouldn’t be able to sleep, worrying what the morning would bring, but I’d surprised myself; I’d slept like a baby, better than I had in years, in fact. I was filled with an unfamiliar feeling of calm, instead of the usual tight ball of anxiety I went to bed with on most nights of my working week. I was taking this as a positive sign.
As predicted, I’d barely had time to microwave my porridge before my mobile phone began ringing. I stood holding the phone, looking at the company logo flashing on the screen, and took a pleasurable moment or two imagining Trish pacing up and down in her office, puce with rage. Call me petty but it’s the little things that can sometimes bring the most joy. I took a deep breath and swiped my finger across the screen to accept the call.
‘Hello?’
‘What the hell have you done?’ screamed Trish.
I held the phone away from my ear and winced slightly.
‘I’ve handed in my notice. Effective immediately,’ I said proudly.
‘You’re too fucking right it’s effective immediately. You’ve destroyed company property. You ought to think yourself lucky we aren’t going to press charges.’
The threat made my hackles rise. ‘Press charges for what? It’s just some spilt coffee. I could argue that it was an accident. There’s not much you can do it about it then.’
‘Just wait until they hear about this upstairs. You’ll be lucky to get another job anywhere by the time I’ve finished with you!’
‘Don’t you dare threaten me,’ I snapped back. I’d had enough. ‘All the years I’ve worked for you and during that time I’ve pretty much done your job for you.’
‘What? How dare—?’
‘Oh, I dare, believe me, I dare. And as far as getting another job, you will write me a glowing reference.’ I was on a roll now – it felt good to get this off my chest. I’d spent far too many years being Trish’s dogsbody.
‘You’ve lost your bloody mind!’
‘No, I haven’t. Trust me, I’d know if I had, I’ve been there before. This isn’t me losing my mind, it’s me finally coming to my senses and refusing to take any more of your shit!’ My heart was pounding but I knew I had one last trump card to play. ‘You will write me a good reference because if you don’t I might just have to tell your husband about all those long lunches with Jeremy in Accounting.’
‘W… What do you mean? That’s ridiculous… I’m not…’
‘Shagging another man behind your husband’s back? Oh, I think you are. Don’t forget who’s been doing your expenses for the last few years. I’ve seen all the receipts.’
I listened to Trish’s unsteady breathing down the phone and then the sound of springs as my erstwhile boss sat down heavily on her specially ordered ergonomic office chair.
‘You wouldn’t,’ she said.
‘Try me.’ In truth, I knew I’d never do something like that – deliberately ruin someone’s marriage – that just wasn’t me. No matter what I might have thought about Trish. Luckily, since Trish had never really bothered to get to know me at all, she didn’t know that. At least, that was what I was banking on anyway. After a few seconds of silence Trish finally spoke.
‘Fine. I’ll make sure you get a good reference, but you can’t say anything to my husband.’
I had to resist the urge to skip around the kitchen.
’You have my word,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
‘Yeah, whatever.’
And that was that. I walked over to the kitchen table on shaky legs and sat down, still clutching my phone in my hand. I’ve done it, I thought, I’ve really gone and done it. I’m unemployed and I’m flying to New York. The madness of that situation started to sink in and for a moment I felt a tingle of fear spread across my scalp. But only for a moment. Those feelings were quickly replaced by ones of excitement and joy; feelings that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time.
*
After that charmed trip to New York, twenty-two years ago, I think I was expecting it to be the same again. After all, why shouldn’t it be? Turned out things had changed. No free upgrades to First Class on this trip – I couldn’t help but feel that this had something to do with the fact that Rachel and I were no longer full of youthful appeal. Back then, our comfy travelling outfits had consisted of tight jeans and cropped tops, complete with obligatory curly perm and lots of eyeliner; on this trip Rachel and I were rocking more of a ‘comfy leggings and baggy linen shirt’ combination, and the closest thing to make-up we had on was a bit of mascara and some Elizabeth Arden Eight Hour face cream. Rachel was wearing flight compression socks – ‘Don’t want to risk a deep vein thrombosis’ – and I was swathed in a lilac pashmina.
‘It can get cold once you’re up in the air,’ I’d told Rachel that morning as I’d hopped into the taxi.
‘Only if you open a bloody
window,’ she’d replied.
Rachel had insisted that we book our taxi nice and early, to avoid any danger of being late for the flight. As it turned out the roads were freakishly empty for rush hour on a Monday and we made it to the airport with about four hours to kill before we boarded our flight. Rachel was unrepentant. ‘Better to be safe than sorry,’ she said as we passed through security and into duty free. All I could think was that four hours was a long time to occupy yourself in a packed airport lounge.
‘I’m heading for the perfume bit,’ declared Rachel. ‘What about you?’
The cosmetic and fragrance section seemed to go on forever, and it was jam-packed with people, all spritzing themselves with various smells from tester bottles. This was definitely not my department, I decided.
‘I’m going to head into Smith’s. See if I can get some magazines for the flight. Might even treat myself to a new book.’ I loved to read. Apart from discovering new varieties of gin, it was my favourite pastime. Nothing like curling up with a good book to while away the hours. My dreams of being a published author one day always included a scenario where I caught someone buying my book in an airport bookstore. One day, I thought, maybe. Rachel wrinkled her nose; she wasn’t a fan of reading. Her greatest literary pleasure was a copy of Hello! magazine, so she could keep up to date with who was shagging who and who’d had plastic surgery. I left Rachel vigorously spritzing herself with perfume and went in search of reading material.
I scanned the shelves of the bookshop for ages, picking up various titles and reading the back cover blurbs and a few opening pages, but I found I couldn’t settle on just one. I wandered up and down until something on the glossy magazine shelf caught my eye – a picture of Daniel. He was plastered all over the front cover of a celebrity gossip magazine, I recognised it as being one of Rachel’s favourites. The headline read:
Daniel Roberts Loses It in Airport Lounge! Full story Page Three!
City of Second Chances Page 7
