by Alison May
‘Anyway, you know when the interviews are.’
Dominic looked blank.
‘You should have had an email about it, or a memo, or something.’ Again Theo scanned vaguely around the papers on his desk as if it was entirely possible the memo in question was sitting right there.
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re on the interview panel.’
‘What?’
‘We always have a current senior lecturer.’
‘I thought Trevalyan was doing it.’
‘No! Didn’t you know? He had a heart attack.’
Dominic’s thoughts shifted to his father. ‘Is he all right?’
Theo snorted. ‘He’ll be fine. It wasn’t even a proper heart attack. A minor cardiac incident according to the doctor, but he’s still off for at least six weeks. Taking the piss if you ask me.’
Theo, Dominic had no doubt, would be reviewing funding applications and publication submissions from his hospital bed after a minor, or possibly major, cardiac incident. The word workaholic could have been coined for him.
It was a shame about Trevalyan though – well it was good for him that he was going to be fine. But if it’d been a proper heart attack there might have been two vacancies. Much better chance for Helen. Dominic put Helen out of his head. It was time to broach the other thing, wasn’t it? He’d made his decision. He’d probably have made it months ago if his father’s heart hadn’t thrown everything he’d decided about his future into confusion. ‘Actually there was something else I wanted to talk to you about.’
‘Yes?’ Theo had already returned at least half his attention to the computer screen in front of him.
‘It’s not a work thing. Er ... maybe not here?’
Theo’s gaze flipped back to Dominic. ‘Nothing wrong?’
‘No. No. It’s good. I think it’s good.’ Dominic stopped himself talking. He did think it was good. He did. ‘Maybe I could call round after work sometime?’
Theo nodded absently, attention fully returned to the computer. ‘Of course. Of course.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Dominic tried to sound casual. Tomorrow was soon enough that he wouldn’t get cold feet, but still gave him twenty-four hours to work out what he was going to say. ‘About 7.30?’
‘Yes. Yes.’
Emily
I push my bedroom door shut and open up my laptop on the bed. Dad’s still at work, and Tania’s in the conservatory. While I’m waiting for the computer to boot, I have second thoughts and open the door a crack. That way I’ll be able to hear if she comes upstairs. I’m not doing anything wrong though. I’m just finding out the truth. For Dad.
The email Dom sent me with links to family history sites is sitting in my inbox. I click to the first site and select the births section. There’s lots of information I could put in. Mother’s surname, precise date and place of birth, but I can only work with what I know. I type in the name: Tania Highpole, and select a date range that would allow her to be anything from forty-eight, which is what she claims, to sixty. I select Penzance as the place, because that’s all I’ve got to go on. No results.
I click back and take the place out to search nationwide. Still no results.
Okay. Try to think, Emily. Maybe she’s changed her name. Maybe she’s been married before. She hasn’t mentioned that, but she hasn’t mentioned much. I change my search to Marriages, but all I’ve got is the bride’s first name and a possible surname for the groom. No results again.
I’m not even sure what I’m hoping to find. Obviously she was born somewhere, and Dom did say that not all the records are online, so she might be forty-eight and from Penzance exactly like she says. But she’s not. I’m sure she’s lying. No guests at all for the wedding. No ties to stop her moving across a continent with a man she’s only just met. I have to find out what her big secret is. It’s not snooping. I’m only looking at public information that anyone could access, and I’m doing it for Dad. He’s not thinking straight. I’m looking after him.
Another idea strikes me. Passport. She came back from Verona with Dad. She must have a passport, and it must be somewhere in this house. I stand on the landing for a minute, and listen, but there are no sounds of movement downstairs. Tania must still be in the conservatory. Where would her passport be? My dad keeps all his important documents in a box in his study, but if she’s not who she says I reckon she’ll have kept hers private. I sneak into their bedroom. Where would she hide it? I run through all the obvious places. It’s not in her underwear drawer. It’s not on her bedside table. I kneel down and peer under the bed. There’s a suitcase. I stop for a second and listen. Still nothing. I pull the suitcase out as quietly as I can and open it up. Empty. I shove it back under the bed and stand up. Try to think like Tania. There must be somewhere. Everyone has somewhere that they keep their most personal things. I’ve got a jewellery box that I only keep presents from my dad in, and folded up in the bottom there’s a birthday card from my 5th birthday, written in my mum’s writing, and a photo of her holding me when I was a new-born baby.
That’s what I’m looking for. I’m looking for Tania’s memory place. I scan the room again. There’s no jewellery box or chest. I open and close the drawers again. There’s no envelopes stuffed underneath her clothes. There’s nothing. So far as I can tell, Tania is a woman with no memories at all.
Dominic
Dominic sat in the same spot on the same couch as he had a few weeks earlier when he’d come for dinner as Emily’s boyfriend. He could see his knuckles whitening from the intensity of his grip on the arm rest. Relax, he told himself. You’re happy to be here. Lucky to be here. Lucky to have made it to university. Lucky to be on this path. He’d built the career. He’d bought the house. He’d found a girl he cared about deeply. Things were all mapped out. Dominic reminded himself, again, to smile.
Theo came into the living room carrying two mugs of tea. ‘So what can I for you?’
‘It’s actually about Emily.’ Dominic paused. ‘You know I’m very fond of your daughter.’
Theo smiled. ‘A bit more than fond, I’d have thought.’
‘Mmm.’ This was harder than he expected. He knew Emily was close to her dad, and he knew that this was the traditional way, but really? Asking the father’s permission first? It seemed a little archaic. He took a deep breath. ‘As I said, I am very fond of Emily. You know that I have a good job, so I can provide for her, and I would always try to care for her and protect her.’
Theo nodded, but gave no response. Right. In for a penny and all that.
‘I would like to ask you for your blessing to ask Emily to become my wife.’ There. It was done.
Theo was still smiling. ‘Of course. Of course. It’s what I’ve been hoping for. You’re just the sort I hoped she’d end up with.’ Just the sort? That wasn’t true, was it? He was a scally. A kid from an estate. An interloper. He’d learnt the language, adopted the manners, bought the clothes of the sort of man Theo thought he was, but it wasn’t real. Or maybe it was. Maybe the little boy with bloodied knees had been buried so deeply he’d simply withered away.
‘Well, I think this calls for more than tea.’ Theo stood up, set down his cup and poured two glasses of whisky. ‘Welcome to the family.’
Emily
Banished from my own home. Dad said he had a work thing at the house and I had to go out. I guess that’s how things are now. Tania’s there to play hostess, and I’m surplus to requirements.
I don’t know where to go. Dominic’s busy this evening, and he wouldn’t tell me what he was doing either. I could go to a girlfriend’s. I don’t really have that many girlfriends. Helen. There’s Helen. I could go and hang out at Helen’s house to see Helen. Just Helen. That would be the only reason. I call a cab on the departmental account to get me there. I knock and wait.
‘Oh. Hello.’
It’s not Helen. It’s Alex. He’s wearing a round-necked top with buttons open at the neck. He’s got a leather cuff around one wrist. I
don’t like jewellery on men. I like my men to be proper old-fashioned men. The cuff draws attention to his arms though and in my head I’m back in the car watching him drive, just before I had my ... little episode. I drag my eyes away from his forearm and try to focus on his face. That brings us eye to eye. That’s worse. ‘I was looking for Helen.’
Alex leans on the door frame. ‘She’s not here.’
‘Right.’
‘She’s babysitting her neice. She’s staying overnight.’
‘Oh.’ I knew that. I’d forgotten. Obviously I’d forgotten. I’m only here to see Helen. ‘I was at a loose end.’
‘You should have texted. I can come play with you.’
I shake my head. I couldn’t have texted. That would be like me asking him to do something. I’m not that sort of woman. I’m a woman who’s run into him completely accidentally.
‘So do you wanna come in?’ He moves out of the doorway.
I shuffle past him, still avoiding eye contact, trying to brush as little of my body as possible against him.
He shows me into the living room.
‘Why does it say “You’re all woman” on your wall?’
‘Oh nothing. It was for a thing with Helen.’
There’s a flip chart standing in the corner. I wander over to it and start to open the pad. ‘What’s this for?’
‘Nothing!’ He pulls the page out of my hand, and holds it shut. ‘Drink?’
‘Why can’t I look?’ I pull against his hand and open the pad to the first sheet. There’s a cartoon of Helen. ‘What’s this?’
‘I drew it.’ He glances down at the floor.
‘It’s good.’ It really is. My dad took me to Paris when I was a teenager. All along the river there were guys offering to draw your picture. Funny cartoons with the Eiffel Tower in the background for the tourists. This is not like that. It really looks like her, for starters. ‘Is this what you didn’t want me to see?’
‘Sure.’ He pulls the page out of my hand. ‘I don’t like showing people stuff I’ve drawn.’
I drop the page and sit down. ‘Why not? That was fantastic.’
He shrugs. ‘Embarrassed I suppose. I’m not that good. Anyway, drink?’
I nod.
‘Wine? We’ve got red out of a box that’s nicer than you’d think, or white that Helen won in the raffle after the university quiz last year. I’d go for the red. The raffle white has the look of a bottle that may not be on its first re-gifting.’
I smile. ‘Whatever you recommend.’
He bows his head ever so slightly. ‘Very good madam.’
He comes back with two glasses of wine, and sits next to me on the sofa. That was my fault. I should have sat on the chair, and then he wouldn’t have had the option. I probably ought to make my position clear.
‘You do know that I didn’t come to see you, don’t you?’
He nods.
‘And nothing else is going to happen between us. The thing. Before ...’
‘Me asking you to shag me in a disused car park.’
‘I meant it when I said no. It can’t happen again.’
‘So we’re not going to shag?’
I shake my head, but there’s something in his voice that doesn’t sound like he’s taking me completely seriously. ‘I mean it.’
‘I accept the challenge.’
‘It’s not a challenge.’
‘Fair enough.’ He spins round to face me on the sofa and crosses his legs. ‘What are we going to do then?’
I haven’t thought about that. ‘Well, we could ...’ I tail off. What could we do? All I know about him is that he’s quite keen to shag me, and chatting about that might send out a mixed message. ‘We could do friend sorts of things.’
‘Right. So you braid my hair and then we’ll have a pillow fight?’
‘Don’t be silly.’
‘Well what do you do with your friends?’
I shrug. ‘Normal stuff. What do you do?’
He shrugs too. ‘To be honest I’ve not got that many friends round here apart from Helen. I sort of burnt my bridges with my last housemate.’
‘What did you do?’
He folds his arms. ‘What makes you think it was my fault?’
‘Just guessing.’
He grins. ‘Fair enough. I slept with his girlfriend.’
I don’t reply straight away. At least that confirms that I was right about him. A nice forearm and two ridiculous jet-black eyes do not make relationship material. ‘So what friend stuff do you and Helen do?’
‘Hang out. I take the piss out of her for being uptight. She has a go at me for being a total flake.’
I feel a pang of something. It’s a bit like the something I feel when I see Tania with my dad, but this is different. More visceral. More urgent. Definitely not daughterly. I can picture him and Helen sitting right where we are now, sipping their cheap wine and talking and laughing. The picture makes me feel like there’s a knife being rammed into my belly. I take a gulp of my wine and remind myself, again, that he’s not with Helen so it doesn’t matter. And he’s not with me either. That’s the important thing. He’s not with me, and I don’t want him to be.
‘Let’s do that then. We’ll hang out.’
‘All right.
And we do and after it stops being awkward, it’s good. He introduces me to something on telly called Dog the Bounty Hunter and I introduce him to the excessive amount of time that can be whiled away watching clips of different sorts of aerobics classes on the internet and imagining that you’ve done exercise. It’s the sort of thing Dom thinks is a waste of time. Then we go on the website for the dog rehoming people and pick which dog we’d have if we were going to have a dog, and then he decides that having a dog is too much responsibility, and so we invent a whole business idea based around the concept of rentable doggies. And we laugh. A lot. To the point where it makes my eyes water.
‘I bet my mascara’s all down my face.’
‘Yep.’
I grab a tissue from a box on the mantelpiece and try stem the flow of grey-black tears. ‘I must look ridiculous.’
‘Yep.’
‘Thanks.’
He shrugs. ‘Doesn’t matter though does it? If we’re just friends, you’re not trying to impress me or look hot, are you?’
Friends. Right. Of course. ‘Course not.’ I put the tissue down. Time to whack this ball back into his court.
‘So friend, tell me something about you?’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘I don’t know.’ My thoughts keep switching to Dom. Dom who is the perfect fit for the life I’m going to have one day. ‘Love,’ I say. ‘Talk to me about love.’
‘What about it?’
‘Well have you ever been in love?’
He does a sort of half shrug and pauses. ‘No.’
‘That was a long pause.’
‘I thought I was once.’
‘And ...’
‘It was years ago. At sixth form. Jennifer Berkley.’
‘What was she like?’
‘Gorgeous. Tall. Blonde. Older than me. We sort of went out for about three months.’
‘Sort of?’
‘Well we didn’t actually go out. We more sort of met up when we could.’
That sounds weird. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well we weren’t supposed to be seeing each other.’
I sit up straight. ‘She had a boyfriend, didn’t she?’
He shakes his head. ‘No boyfriend.’
‘Then what was the big deal?’
‘She was a student teacher teacher.’
‘You shagged your teacher?’ That’s so wrong. I’d never dare do something like that.
‘Student teacher. And I was eighteen.’
‘But still.’ The university has policies on policies about that sort of thing.
He pulls a face. ‘I know.’
‘What happened?’
‘School found out. She l
ost her job. I think I’m technically still grounded. It took me about three weeks to convince my parents not to go to the police.’
‘Wow. Are you still in touch with her?’
He shakes his head. ‘I tried ringing her and stuff at first but she wouldn’t answer, and so I stopped trying. Actually, my brother saw her in the supermarket last year.’
‘Did he talk to her?’
‘I think he asked her where the bleach was. She works there now.’
‘It’s sort of romantic though. Forbidden love and all that.’
‘It’s not romantic. It’s weird and stupid. She lost her career. I nearly screwed up my education. We had nothing in common. We wouldn’t have looked twice at each other in the street if it hadn’t been forbidden fruit.’
He’s right. Forbidden isn’t exciting and romantic. It’s stupid. It makes you do stupid things with people you have nothing in common with. ‘Good that we’re just friends then.’
He nods. ‘And you’ve got Dominic, so you know all about love anyway.’
‘Yeah.’
Alex
Her voice said ‘Yeah,’ but her dipped head and avoidance of eye contact said something else.
Alex hesitated. This was his moment. She was vulnerable. He’d seen that before but now she’d come to him. All he had to do was make his move, and he was pretty certain she’d go for it. Emily and Dominic would split up. Helen would have her clear run and Alex would have made it all happen. That was the only reason he was thinking about it. He’d be a hero. A shagging super hero. He hesitated. ‘Is everything okay with you two?’
‘Of course.’
‘You can tell me. I thought we were being friends.’
She laughed uncertainly. ‘I don’t know. Things were fine, and then his dad died, and everything went a bit off the boil.’
‘Well he was probably upset.’ Alex listened to himself. He was sticking up for her boyfriend. That was not a textbook pulling tactic.
She sniffed. ‘I know. And things seemed to be going better. We made this whole sort of plan for the future. How many kids we might have. What sort of house we’d live in. All that stuff. But now I think he’s avoiding me.’
