His can spat as he pulled the ring. “I remember the Hooley very well.”
She looked away from his quick glance. The old café had been on the upper floor and had a view of an ancient cemetery, nestled like a secret beside the Museum. She remembered a grey morning when she had looked down on an ivy-covered mausoleum, crumbling at one corner. Drunken grave slabs surrounded it, some completely flat, some doggedly hanging on to their crazy angles.
“Do you remember the view from the top…” she began.
He took a gulp of his drink. “Don’t say anything about graveyards.”
His intuition startled a smile from her. She wrinkled her nose.
“Oh, just a line or two?”
“Not even one,” he warned.
“‘Unresting death, a whole day nearer now…’”
He slammed the can on the table. “No!”
“OK then.” She sat back, puzzled at his vehemence. “But you should read Aubade. Phillip Larkin. In fact, if you’re going to Queen’s, you really must read some Larkin. He was a librarian there in the fifties. And you won’t like what he says about death and religion.”
He fiddled with the ring-pull. Then he spoke with a sudden rush of intensity. “I know Aubade very well. Larkin says ‘Death is no different whined at than withstood.’ And religion is just a ‘vast moth-eaten musical brocade, Created to pretend we never die.’”
She closed her eyes. She had been holding on so long, coping day by day, inch by inch. Her highest ambition was to get by; her greatest achievement was a night with no terrors; her most alluring temptation was to give up and let herself fall. Now here was this amazing young man who was punching his way through steel armour with an effortless grace. He was stirring the surface of the still water and spangling it with colour. And he had no idea of any of this.
She knew she was being unprofessional, way out of line, but she had gone too far beyond the bounds for that to be redeemable. She could accept this friendship, or slip into an even greater loneliness for having known it. That was the choice. When she opened her eyes he was watching her, a slight smile hovering around his mouth. She held his look. Held it. And felt the decision being made.
Made. Communicated. And agreed.
She held one hand upright, palm open towards him. “Shalom aleichem, David Shaw.”
His voice was soft as he lifted his own palm in response. “Aleichem shalom, Robyn Daniels.”
14
THE EVENING WAS still bright when Robyn turned the key in her door just after seven o’clock. She dropped her bag on the floor and sank onto the couch. The room seemed dull, the evening sun not reaching in through the small window. The usual feeling of gaining safe harbour was not with her. Far from it. It was more like landing on an alien planet.
Her book had slipped from her bag and she reached down to lift it. Pink rose petals spilled on the carpet. She had forgotten that she had tucked the flower into her bag. If it had still been a flower she could have put it in a glass for a few days. But it was crushed, ruined and only fit to discard. She gathered up the petals and tossed them in the wastebasket. Later, when she was going to bed, she found another one in her slipper.
David loved words; loved playing with them, rearranging them. He loved the way writers could weave words into a tapestry, could use the way they sounded to mean more than their definitions. He had never really thought about a word as ordinary as ‘delight’. Yet it bounced round him as he walked home, having a life of its own. It inhabited the creases of his quiet smile; it was in the twig he absent-mindedly twirled as he walked; it circled with the cat who appeared at his feet asking to have her ears scratched.
As he went through the gateway of his home, he jumped for a high branch of lilac and sent it twanging into the air. Before he could go down the side of the house, the front door opened.
“David, where have you been?” said his mother. “I was trying to get you. Dad’s not well.” She looked stressed and annoyed. “Why did you switch your phone off?”
Her stethoscope hung over the lapels of her blouse.
“What do you mean – not well?”
“His secretary drove him home. He’s lying down.”
David had taken the stairs three at a time before Elizabeth had closed the door.
Angus paced round his house trying to work off his frustration. Frustration was bad. Sometimes it made things happen that he did not want to happen.
He had been enjoying the morning in the park. In fact he was about to approach Robyn and chat to her. He might have been able to persuade her to spend some time with him.
Then that holy bastard had showed up – materialised beside him like an angry genie; asked him what he was doing. Angus thumped the kitchen worktop at the memory. For a religious type, Shaw could look remarkably threatening. He had towered over him, watching through narrowed eyes as he slipped the camera into his pocket. His excuse – that he was taking some natural history photographs for the juniors next term – sounded pathetic even to himself.
How long had Shaw been watching him? And why? Shaw had stood, rooted, until Angus had turned and walked away. But Angus had worked his way back down another path in time to see Shaw meet Robyn. It looked almost like an arranged meeting. The two were obviously comfortable with each other. Angus kicked a door. He hadn’t risked following them any further.
If she had decided to have a fling with a pupil, then she was an idiot. His head began to hurt. God help Shaw. Either she’d ruin him – he picked up a ceramic planter from his hall – or he would. Pieces of smashed pottery skittered from the front door to the back.
“No, the Home button!”
“I did press the Home button.”
“You must be the last person in this country to get a mobile. It’s unbelievable!” David took the mobile from Robyn and patiently explained it again, pointing as he spoke. “Home button, e-mail icon, messages.”
They were scarcely visible in the afternoon crowds in the Shopping Centre. Heads together, they had found room on a long curved bench just inside the main doors as Robyn tried to understand her new phone. She took it back.
“Right. Let me try ringing someone now.” She thought for a moment, and realised that there wasn’t anybody she wanted to ring.
David took it back again and tapped. Then he held it up so she could see what he was doing. “Watch carefully,” he instructed. “I’ll be setting a homework on this.”
“Yes, sir.” She paid elaborate attention.
The public announcement system blared over the noise of shoppers. Mouth close to her hair, he gave a running commentary. “Phone book.” He raised an eyebrow questioningly. “OK?”
She nodded. “With you so far.”
“You’ve got one phone number in there.”
The letters DS appeared on the screen along with a number.
She was puzzled. “Who’s DS?”
He handed the phone to her. “Tap the number.” She tapped it. After a moment his phone began to ring at his belt. He answered it. Her eyes danced as she looked at him looking at her, both with their phones to their ears.
“OK! I like this.” She opened her bag to put the phone away when a thought struck her. “But what’s my number? I need to know my number.”
He showed her the screen on his own mobile. “That’s your number.”
“I didn’t say you could have it.” That was the old Robyn talking. Damn, she was still in there somewhere. But David merely leaned forward, elbows on knees and grinned back over his shoulder at her.
“Nope.”
She stretched her legs and waggled her toes inside her shoes. New, comfortable, walking shoes. The curved bench was thronged with people. Further along, two teenage girls, deep in conversation, were ignoring a little boy who seemed to be in their charge. The toddler pushed himself away from the knee he was leaning on and, dummy pulsating vigorously in his mouth, tottered towards David. He didn’t quite reach him, toppling forward at his feet with a bump. The dummy fe
ll out, the little mouth turned down and the chin crumpled for a yell. David reached out and lifted him.
“Hey, don’t yell,” he said gently. The child looked up at his broad smile and put the protest on hold. “You’re not really hurt, are you?” David retrieved the dummy and his fingers cradled the side of the child’s head protectively as he stood, lifting the child into his arms. He walked over to the two girls who were still engrossed in conversation. The toddler gazed down from his shoulder with interest.
“Hey,” he said. They looked round, mouths open. “I eat children. Fortunately for this one, I’ve eaten enough for today. Although,” – he prodded the striped T-shirt stretched over the chubby tummy – “he might do for supper.” He stooped and handed the child over to one of the gaping girls. “I’m joking,” he said. “Somebody else might not be.”
Three pairs of round eyes followed him as he returned to Robyn who had been watching, fascinated.
“That really annoyed you, didn’t it?” she said.
“Responsibility for another human being is heavy stuff.” He swivelled round. “Right. Homework. See if you can phone me again.”
Concentrating, she tapped and waited until his phone rang. She cancelled the call with an air of triumph. He was pleased.
“You’re a quick learner.” His phone rang again and this time he answered it. While he spoke, Robyn looked past him to the two girls with the toddler. The nearest one held the child firmly on her knee while they glanced occasionally at David and muttered to each other. They were discussing him. Robyn looked at his profile as he held the phone to his ear. He was worth discussing.
He was still talking on the phone. “No, I’d better stay in tonight. Mum’s still a bit shell-shocked… Sure, next week. Chloe’s back then, she could come too.”
When he finished, Robyn asked: “What about your Dad now?”
He leaned his elbows on his knees again, tossing his phone from one hand to the other. “He’s home. They only kept him overnight. He’ll be off work for a while though,” – he smiled – “which annoys him.”
“Still, he’ll need to rest.” She watched a middle-aged man and woman lightly kiss goodbye and turn in opposite directions. “I’d better go,” she said, not getting up. “I’ve to call in the library to see someone.”
“Yeah. I’d better go too. I said I’d meet Tim,” he said, not getting up.
She looked at her toes. “David?”
“What?”
“Of all the girls you could have, why Chloe?”
He looked round in surprise, momentarily speechless. “Why not?”
She thought for a minute. “She’s too small for you.”
He gave a slight laugh, his brows drawing together. “Maybe she’ll grow a bit more.”
“I didn’t mean height,” she said.
He was quiet for a minute, studying his thumb. Then he retaliated. “That man who called for you at school that night.” He must have felt her tense. “Are you… in a relationship with him?”
She blinked. A week ago she would have cut him to pieces for that. Now she said, “No.”
He nodded. “He isn’t right for you.”
“You know that? After one sighting?”
“And things you’ve told me.” His gaze was jumping sightlessly across the racketing crowds. Robyn heard only his voice as if the two of them were in an empty room. “You’ve been very unhappy. For a long time, I think. Even as a friend, does he notice?”
She had almost stopped breathing. “Not in any way that matters.”
He said no more, just looked at the tiles between his feet, knowing he had made his point.
Robyn ran up the imposing stairs of the library, determined to do this, to be a decent human being and enquire after a friend. In the first floor reading room, she selected a periodical and sat in an easy chair in full view of the enquiry desk. She had come this far. Gemma could do the rest.
After half an hour, a chair was pulled up beside her and Gemma’s voice said: “Hi.”
Robyn folded the magazine and looked up. Gemma looked immaculate as ever. The blonde hair still swung round her ears, the fingernails were still scarlet, not a chip visible. Matching toenails peeped from blue strappy sandals. It was hard to read her expression and Robyn didn’t feel like small talk; like pretending nothing had happened.
“How is he?” she asked.
“He’s walking better now but the bruised ribs’ll take some time to stop hurting. The stitches on his mouth are out, and his arm’s out of the sling. His wrist’s just strapped now.”
Robyn moved to stand. “Glad he’s coming on. Give him my regards.”
Gemma’s hand restrained her. “Is that it?”
Robyn sat back again and regarded her old friend. “He hurt me, Gemma. Nobody does that to me again. And I told him that.”
“He scared me too for a minute. But he’s really, really sorry. Honestly. You have to believe me.”
“I don’t believe he’s sorry for anything.”
Out of habit, Gemma reached from her chair and tucked the magazine back on the stand. She said: “Neil said you were cold. I believe him.”
“You’ve always believed him.”
Gemma sat looking at her clasped hands. “There isn’t any point in us having a row, Rob. I really don’t want to. Surely we have too much history – all three of us.” She looked up. “I was going to ring you tonight.”
“And what were you going to say?”
“Neil’s still at my place. He couldn’t travel yet. I was going to ask you round. Give him a chance to say sorry.”
“You must be joking! I won’t go into your house again until he’s left it. And anyway, why can’t he ring me to apologise?”
“He knows you wouldn’t speak to him.”
That was true. Unusually perspicacious of him, Robyn thought. Fleetingly, she wondered if David would know the word perspicacious. Guessing the meanings of words was becoming a bit of a running game between them. She didn’t always win it.
“Give me one good reason why I should go back on what I said.”
Gemma thought for a moment. “Surely he’s still a friend? I mean…” She threw her hands up in bewilderment, “…after all these years. Say we had an old school friends’ reunion, we’d all be there, wouldn’t we?”
“Well…”
Gemma had a sudden idea. “I know! I’ll take him down the road to the Botanic Gardens in the car and help him walk in a bit, to somewhere you could meet him. The rose walk maybe. He needs to be walking more and getting some fresh air anyway.”
“Definitely not.”
“Oh, come on!” Gemma sounded exasperated. “Give him a chance.” As Robyn looked up at her quickly, she pressed the point. “Everyone should have the chance to say sorry.” She looked at her scarlet toes. “And maybe you could say sorry too.”
Robyn gasped. “Me say sorry? What on earth for?”
“Because you upset him and he nearly got killed.”
“I’m not responsible for that!”
“OK. OK. Of course you’re not.” Gemma’s tone became placating. “Don’t go running off down the stairs again on me.” She softened this with a smile. “How about I walk with Neil down to the embankment tomorrow and you meet him there. Just for a few minutes. It’s only a hundred yards from the house.”
Robyn stood and walked round a book shelf, struggling with the decision. Finally she said: “All right. Eleven o’clock. Just down from your house.” She raised a finger for emphasis. “Two minutes, Gem.”
She tensed as Gemma reached out, gave her arm a squeeze then looked back at the desk. “I must get back to work. By the way,” she lowered her voice, “things are hotting up with Jack.” She grinned conspiratorially. “I’ve got a few nicknames for him now. But none I could tell you!”
“I’m so happy for you,” said Robyn, leaving.
Curled up in her chair with a mug of coffee, Robyn looked around her bedsit. For the first time the feeling sneaked u
p on her that it was a bit small. It was also very dark and isolated at the back of the building. Restlessly, she considered the furnishings and colour scheme. It was too dark red and grey. Yellow. It needed some yellow. That would bring a sunnier feel to it. Curtains and cushions would be a start.
Her mother would just love coming with her to look for them. Briefly she considered phoning her, but decided against it. It was too soon. Had those who knew her back home noticed that she wasn’t there this summer? She had one or two acquaintances who might, but probably they wouldn’t wonder enough to enquire after her. Friends had never got emotionally close. And never stayed. She was sure Gemma stuck around only because of Neil.
She uncurled and went into the kitchen for a biscuit. At least she had proved to herself that she could make a friend outside her family. She had proved something with David Shaw.
She gave a wry smile. But then, how long would he stick around? He was a stepping stone. Once the new school term started, reality would impinge on this slightly unreal summer world and she would go back to finish the last few months of the maternity leave she was covering. These holidays were still time out, transitional. She bit her lip. There would hopefully be some job interviews too but, unlike the number of students qualifying, posts were not plentiful.
Rattling the side of her mug with her nails, she thought about Angus Fraser. Hmm. Maybe if he appeared again, she’d go for coffee or something. Just check him out.
Later she sat in bed and explored her new phone. She remembered most of what David had shown her. When she had checked out most of the icons, she fixed her pillow and lay down on her side to sleep. Her eyes kept straying to the outline of the phone on the table beside her bed.
After ten minutes she reached for it. Her cheek still on the pillow, she lay and typed ‘Look what I can do!’ There was still only one number stored in her phone. She hit ‘Send’.
The phone lay silent beside her pillow. Eventually she went to sleep.
In the pitch black of the night, the room filled with a piercing noise. Robyn woke with a start, her heart racing. The phone. She must have left it set to loud. One message. ‘go 2 top of class!’
Healer of My Heart Page 11
