A Place to Call Home

by Carole Matthews

  ‘A daughter?’ Crystal says. ‘You hadn’t mentioned her.’

  ‘I didn’t?’ Edgar pulls out his wallet and shows her a photograph. ‘She’s the light of my life.’

  I peek at it too. She’s a pretty little girl with long dark hair and her father’s eyes.

  ‘She’s beautiful.’ Crystal grins at him.

  ‘You like children?’

  Crystal’s eyes flick to mine and she smiles bravely before she says, ‘I love them.’

  ‘I see her nearly every weekend,’ Edgar says. ‘She comes to stay with me. I live in a small flat above the day centre. It’s a very nice place, but not like this.’ He looks around at the house and garden, still gaping slightly. ‘You must come to see it.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Crystal says.

  ‘Let me take the flowers,’ I say. She hands them over to me and I pop inside to find a vase. I arrange them as prettily as I can and then put them out on the table in the garden.

  I’ve made an effort with how I look this evening and am wearing my maxidress. Crystal has piled my hair up for me and it’s nice to feel what little movement of air there is on my neck. Joy follows me outside; she’s also dressed up, in a floral shirt and white trousers. Her outfit is topped off with a broad-brimmed sunhat.

  ‘The garden’s looking lovely, Joy,’ I tell her.

  ‘It takes a lot of work,’ she says with a weary sigh. ‘Sometimes I wonder how long I’ll be able to manage it by myself.’

  ‘I can help you,’ I offer. ‘If you show me what to do.’

  ‘You’ve got enough on your plate, young lady. You don’t want to be tying yourself down to the garden as well as everything else.’

  ‘Perhaps Hayden can get you some help.’

  She shakes her head and forces a smile. ‘No need to bother him. I’m all right really.’

  But I wonder if she should have someone to give her a hand. It’s a big garden and a lot of work for her to manage by herself. Maybe I should find a quiet moment to speak to Hayden about it.

  I slip my arm through hers. ‘Come on, let’s join the others. This evening you can relax and enjoy it for a change.’

  So we wander over to where Crystal and Edgar are chatting together while Hayden tends the barbecue.

  ‘Where did all this lovely bunting come from?’ Joy asks. ‘I’ve never seen it before.’

  ‘It was tucked away in the summerhouse,’ Crystal says. ‘Don’t know what it was doing there.’

  ‘We had it for Laura’s birthday the year we moved in here,’ Hayden says over his shoulder.

  ‘You and your big gob, Joy,’ Crystal tuts.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Hayden,’ Joy says, embarrassed. ‘Stupid me. I didn’t even think.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he assures her. ‘Really, it is.’ He glances over towards me and smiles. ‘I’m finally moving on.’

  ‘Great news about the award,’ Joy says, hastily changing the subject. ‘I’m sure you’re both in with a very good chance of scooping the main prize.’

  ‘All we do is slap on a bit of nail polish,’ Crystal protests.

  ‘It’s more than that,’ Edgar says shyly. ‘Everyone really looks forward to your visits and you’ve given our spirits a lift. I only wish I could find a reason to have you in every day.’ He blushes as he says it.

  ‘A toast to our lovely ladies,’ Hayden says.

  We all raise our glasses.

  ‘Lovely ladies!’ we echo.

  Crystal clinks her glass against mine. ‘To us,’ she says. ‘We’re flipping fab!’

  ‘I’d better serve this food before it’s all charcoal biscuits,’ Hayden says. ‘Have you got a big plate, Ayesha?’

  ‘Just here.’ I take it over to him and he piles it up with meat, chicken and vegetable kebabs.

  We all gather round the table and tuck in. The chatter flows and the laughter is easy and plentiful. Edgar tells us of his life in Latvia and how he came to England two years ago. We hear how he’d been working as a manager in a nursing home before accepting this job. He’s a charming and articulate man. I like how attentive he is to Crystal, helping her to salad, making sure that her drink is topped up. He touches her arm, her shoulder, affectionately. It’s nice to see and I hope that he stays around.

  When we’ve eaten, I make coffee for us all. Hayden goes into the house through the French doors and sits at his piano.

  ‘Come on, Beanie,’ he says, waving Sabina towards him. ‘Join me.’ Without hesitation, she goes to sit next to him.

  They work through their repertoire. First we’re treated to a break-neck-speed version of ‘Chopsticks’, then they play two pretty little tunes together that I don’t recognise. It’s clear that they’ve been doing some secret practising together.

  Then Hayden moves on to his own songs. He nudges Sabina off the stool as he starts up with ‘My For Ever Love’, the strains of which even I now recognise. My daughter stands next to him, but faces out towards us.

  As he plays, her voice sings out clear and strong. My eyes fill with tears. No longer is she hesitant and unsure. Somehow singing is beginning to unlock her voice once more, and I marvel to hear it. I thought, I feared, that it would be a day that would never come.

  I feel the tears roll down my cheeks and, as I glance across at Joy and Crystal, I see that they’re both weeping too. Crystal reaches across and surreptitiously squeezes my hand. Joy rummages inside her sleeve, pulls out a handkerchief and dabs at her eyes.

  When Sabina finishes, we all clap rapturously. Crystal whistles her appreciation.

  ‘What a voice, Beanie!’ she cries. ‘You sound better than blinking Beyoncé.’

  My daughter grins shyly.

  ‘Shall we do another one, Bean?’ Hayden asks. ‘What do you fancy?’

  She shakes her head and comes to sit next to me. My daughter, it seems, knows her own mind. So Hayden carries on playing and I pull Sabina into my embrace. ‘I love you so much, my child,’ I tell her. ‘You are both clever and beautiful.’

  ‘Just like her mum,’ Crystal adds.

  ‘That was lovely, little one,’ Joy says, flapping her handkerchief. ‘Lovely.’

  Edgar looks a little perplexed by the outpouring of emotion, unaware of the significance of what he’s witnessed.

  As dusk is falling, I shoo Crystal and Edgar to the bottom of the garden. ‘Spend some time together while I tidy up,’ I insist.

  So they sit together in the deckchairs beneath the bunting, Crystal with her legs curled under her. She’s timid with him and seems a world away from the woman I saw in that tawdry club, which I think can only be a good thing.

  Joy brings some citronella candles from the shed and lights up the garden. The sweet scent carries on the night air.

  Sabina yawns. ‘It’s time for bed,’ I tell her. ‘School in the morning. Go and get into your pyjamas and I’ll be up to read to you in a moment.’

  As I start to tidy up, Hayden stops playing and comes into the garden. ‘Leave that for a minute,’ he says and he draws me down on to his lap, wrapping me in his arms. ‘This has been a magical evening.’

  ‘It has,’ I say. ‘Thank you for taking time with Sabina. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for her.’

  ‘It’s of mutual benefit,’ he tells me. ‘As she’s finding her voice again, she’s unlocking something inside of me. As are you. We have something special, don’t we?’

  ‘I believe we do.’ I stroke his face. My hand trembles as I touch him. I’m not a woman who is accustomed to love, but I feel that this is it. I love Hayden with all of my being but I’m too afraid to tell him. Instead I settle on ‘I am happy here. So very happy.’

  ‘Then I hope it will never change,’ he says.

  I rest my head on his shoulder and his solidity soothes me. ‘I’d very much like that too.’

  In my heart I hope that we can freeze this moment and live our lives like this for ever.

  Chapter Sixty-seven

  A week later, we all
go along to the Community Awards ceremony at the Town Hall. It’s an imposing building and I feel quite intimidated to be going there. Edgar is holding Crystal’s hand as we approach it. Hayden is coming along too, plus Joy and Sabina. They’ll be cheering us on and it feels good to know that we have our own support in the audience. Also Edgar bought tickets for some of the other ladies and gentlemen from the day centre to join us, which is very lovely.

  ‘It feels like a flipping film première,’ Crystal whispers to me. ‘Closest we’ll ever get to one, anyway.’

  She’s right. It does feel very special and we’re being treated as if we’re important people. We’re all shown to chairs which have our names on them, right near the stage, and settle into them. Soon, alongside us, the dignitaries take their places too. The ceremony is officiated by the editor of the Ham & High, and the prizes are to be presented by a local resident who’s also an actress in a soap opera that, to my shame, I’ve never watched.

  I’m very tense as I’m unused to being in the limelight and feel quite uncomfortable with it. I don’t really hear what’s said when the rest of the awards for services to the community are announced. It all passes me in a blur as I think anxiously of when our turn might be. I clutch Hayden’s hand tightly, waiting for our big moment of glory or failure. I don’t know why, but I really want to win this. It’s as if it’s some sort of affirmation that what I’m doing is right. It’s come to represent more than a local award to me.

  ‘You’ll be all right,’ Hayden whispers to me, but I’m too terrified, too anxious to reply.

  Then suddenly it’s time for the final award, for Caring in the Community. The list of finalists is read out and the presenter tells a little of all our stories. There’s someone who has helped to create a garden for a nursery school, and surely this is more worthy than our meagre offering? I steel myself for disappointment, sure that I’ll let down all of my friends.

  Then our names are read out. ‘The last names on the list of finalists are Ms Crystal Cooper and Mrs Ayesha Rasheed.’

  Crystal grips my other hand and gives a little squeal of delight.

  ‘Ms Cooper and Mrs Rasheed have been singled out for this award due to their exemplary care for some of our elderly residents.’

  ‘He has my proper name,’ I whisper to Crystal.

  ‘I told Edgar. If we won, I didn’t want them putting a false name on the trophy. I wanted it to be you.’ She looks concerned. ‘Did I do wrong?’

  I shake my head. ‘I was just surprised.’ Nevertheless, a cold circle of dread has settled in my tummy.

  ‘At the Constance Fields Day Centre Ms Cooper and Mrs Rasheed perform manicure and massage services. Centre manager Mr Edgar Janson has been fulsome in his praise of their work. He says, and I quote, “Ms Cooper and Mrs Rasheed have been a welcome addition to the visiting services at our day centre. Their bright personalities and caring natures have brought warmth and light into the lives of our regular visitors. Their weekly visits are anticipated eagerly as a part of our calendar. Not only do they conduct their services with a professional air, but they also go above and beyond what is required of them. Mrs Rasheed brings in delicious food for our visitors to try and is happy to sit and read to them on a voluntary basis. Ms Cooper always lends a caring ear to anyone with troubles.”’

  ‘I like a bloody good gossip, is what that means,’ Crystal whispers to me.

  On stage, the man folds his notes. ‘That, ladies and gentlemen, is the last of our finalists.’ The audience clap enthusiastically. ‘May the best man or woman win!’

  Someone urges the pretty young actress forward.

  ‘So it’s with great pleasure that I ask Poppy Valentine to announce the winner.’

  The actress rips open an envelope. She leans forward to the microphone. ‘The overall winner of the Caring in the Community Award for this year is Ms Crystal Cooper and Mrs Ayesha Rasheed of Constance Fields Day Centre.’

  There’s a buzzing in my ears as the applause starts up again. I can hear Edgar and Hayden cheering.

  ‘It’s us,’ Crystal says, already on her feet. ‘Come on, woman! Let’s go and bask in the glory!’

  Dazed, I follow my friend. She takes my hand and we head to the stage. I lift my dress carefully, so that I don’t trip and make a fool of myself.

  The actress steps forward and hands the award to me. It’s a cut-glass bowl engraved with our names. I run my finger over the etching: CRYSTAL COOPER AND AYESHA RASHEED. I smile at Crystal. We did it. We won the award.

  The actress gives Crystal an envelope which contains £250 to go with our trophy, which will be so useful in paying for our equipment. Poppy Valentine kisses me on the cheek and offers her gushing congratulations to both of us. Crystal hugs me and we laugh together. Cameras flash and I feel myself recoiling, blinking. My ears are ringing and I can hear the ladies and gentlemen who’ve come along shouting for us. Moments later, we make our way off the stage and the awards ceremony comes to a close.

  We’re instantly engulfed by our friends and the kind people from the day centre. I look round, desperately seeking out Hayden. But as I do, a press photographer comes along and, even before he starts snapping away, Hayden grabs my wrist. ‘Do you want me to stop this?’ he murmurs.

  ‘I don’t know.’ My heart is beating too quickly. ‘I feel I’ll let them down if I do.’

  ‘Come on, Ayesha,’ Crystal says. ‘This is our big moment. Don’t be shy.’

  Our eyes meet and I nod to Hayden to indicate that I’ll go with her. How can I tell Crystal that I don’t want my photograph in the newspaper? She’s so excited and it means so much to her. It means a lot to me too, but I hadn’t bargained for this level of attention. We’re to be fêted publicly, and I hadn’t quite expected it to feel so threatening.

  Instantly Hayden fades into the background. I want to disappear with him, but now the photographer takes my hand and pulls me forward. A second later and he’s snapping away, shouting orders to Crystal and me.

  The photographer, unaware of my discomfort, gets Crystal and me to pose with Edgar, Joy and the other visitors to the day centre. My mouth goes dry as Crystal and I hold our trophy aloft.

  ‘Smile, ladies,’ he says. ‘This way. This way.’ We turn towards him, but I feel my smile is more false than Crystal’s.

  ‘Are you sure you’re happy with this?’ Crystal murmurs to me.

  ‘Yes.’ I nod my consent, but she knows me too well and can tell that I’m nervous.

  ‘Enjoy it,’ she whispers to me. ‘Don’t be so worried. It’s only the local paper. Here today and gone tomorrow. It goes to a few streets round where we live. Who’ll see it?’

  This may, I think, be an optimistic assessment. Perhaps I should heed my own concern, but I don’t. I want to celebrate our achievement and I can’t disappoint my friends. So, rightly or wrongly, I try to block my concerns from my mind and think no further than that.

  Chapter Sixty-eight

  Our beautiful glass bowl is given pride of place in the Constance Fields Day Centre. When Crystal and I arrive for our duties the regulars are clustered around a newspaper.

  ‘What’s the deal?’ Crystal says as she sets down her bag.

  ‘You are,’ one of the men replies, and they all part so that we can see what they’re looking at. ‘You’ve made the front page, ladies.’

  My goodness, so we have. They hand over the newspaper to Crystal and we both peer at it. Splashed all over the front of the Ham & High is a photograph of Crystal and me, beaming widely, holding our trophy up to the camera.

  ‘Wow,’ she says. ‘We’re stars.’

  ‘In a very small universe,’ I counter.

  ‘But front page, all the same.’

  ‘Inside too,’ one of the ladies points out. ‘You’re right across the middle pages as well.’

  Crystal whips open the newspaper. There are photographs of the other contenders too, but right across the centre there’s another picture of Crystal and me flanked by members of t
he day centre with Joy and Edgar. Hayden, quite sensibly, is nowhere to be seen.

  I’d thought there’d be a small column covering the event and that there might not have been room for a photograph, but the newspaper has really gone to town on this. I’m both secretly delighted and terrified at the same time. I’m glad that I will, for the rest of my life, be able to look back on this moment with pride. But what if Suresh somehow sees it? Surely by now he’ll no longer be interested in the whereabouts of his runaway wife and daughter.

  Edgar comes into the room. ‘Lovely piece,’ he says. ‘Very well deserved.’ I notice his hand touches the small of Crystal’s back and she smiles.

  They’ve seen each other every day since the evening of the barbecue, and I do believe that my friend might be in love. Crystal hasn’t yet met Edgar’s daughter, but I don’t think that it will be too long before she does.

  ‘I’ve got copies for both of you,’ Edgar says. ‘They’re in my office. It should be framed and put on your wall.’

  Joy had gone straight out into the garden when we arrived, to put a new trowel that she’d bought into the shed. Now she comes into the day room.

  ‘Look, Joy,’ I say to her. ‘We’ve made the newspaper.’

  She pops on her reading glasses. ‘Well, look at that. How lovely. Well done, girls.’

  ‘We’d better get cracking with our manicures,’ Crystal says, ‘or you’ll be snatching the award back off us.’

  While Joy takes the newspaper and goes to show it to some of the other members, Crystal and I go to set up our nail stations. As we do, I give voice to the dark thought that crossed my mind a moment ago. ‘You don’t think that Suresh could see this, do you?’

  ‘No.’ Crystal gives a dismissive shake of her head. ‘It’s a little local paper. No one reads it, anyway. Unless your husband happens to be in Hampstead this week, he’ll never know. How could he?’ Then she frowns. ‘He doesn’t come to London much, does he?’