Lily Alone

by Vivien Brown

  ‘You told my mother you were widowed. Sorry, I was washing up, and I couldn’t help overhearing. That kitchen is pretty small! But it must be hard for you. Having to cope alone, I mean. Especially when there’s a family crisis like this. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but when did your husband die? Just tell me to shut up if I’m being too nosey.’

  She didn’t reply, just turned her head and gazed out at the traffic going by several floors below. The window had been left open just an inch or two, presumably to let some of the heat out, or the cool air in, but it wasn’t really working. The glass was steamy, with little trickles of moisture running down onto the sill. William undid the top button of his shirt and loosened his collar. He gazed around at the other customers, some of them in dressing gowns and slippers, and at Geraldine in her jeans, and knew he was overdressed. The sweat was starting to drip down the back of his neck and his head was throbbing, but he turned his attention back to her. She looked like she was miles away, in a world of her own, her eyes still fixed on something beyond the glass.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, stirring his coffee again and watching the milky patterns swirl around its frothy surface. ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine.’

  ‘No, no, I don’t mind.’ She turned back towards him and forced a smile. ‘Actually, I rarely do get the chance to talk about it. Or him, what with Michael being away, and there’s nobody else really. I don’t have sisters or brothers. There’s just Kerry, who helps me in the shop, but it wouldn’t be fair of me. She’s young. She wouldn’t want the burden of it. Wouldn’t understand.’ She clenched her left hand several times, squeezing until her knuckles whitened, as if trying to release the tension. Then her fingers stretched open and finally came to rest against the plastic table top, and he saw the dull glint of her wedding ring under the lights as she started turning it round and round, slowly and absent-mindedly, with her thumb. He couldn’t help noticing how loosely it fitted.

  William thought about reaching across the table and taking her hand in his, but it probably wasn’t appropriate. He wasn’t all that good at this kind of thing, and, much as she looked as if she needed a friend right now, the last thing he wanted was for his actions to be misconstrued.

  He was about to say something, anything, just to try to make her feel more at ease when, in a sudden thud of swooping grey, a pigeon plopped itself onto the thick grey concrete ledge outside, flapping its wings hard against the glass. Geraldine jumped back in surprise, her hand flying up and knocking the sugar bowl across to the opposite side of the table, and they both laughed nervously as the pigeon took off into the sky again and disappeared. But it seemed to break the ice and, as soon as she’d composed herself and gathered up all the scattered sugar sachets, she took a deep breath and started to talk.

  ‘Ken. He’s been gone just over two and a half years now,’ she said, her voice small amongst the hubbub of the place as a steady trickle of customers queued at the counter, rattled coins and clattered cutlery, some chatting loudly into mobile phones, trying to be heard above the din. ‘Two years and six months and – let me see – five days, to be precise,’ she went on, seemingly oblivious of everything around her. ‘It was very sudden. A heart attack. We were down by the beach, early in the evening. It had been a nice day. An April day, without the showers. We’d had a stroll along the pier and we were sitting on a bench, resting our legs, watching the waves. Talking, you know how you do, about inconsequential things. About the seagulls diving down for people’s scraps, a bit like our pigeon friend here, and the way some mothers just let their children run about screaming, and the terrible price of the ice creams we’d just had, and how we were sure they cost more the nearer to the pier you bought them …’

  William nodded, trying to remember similar conversations he might have had with Susan, but failing to conjure up even one.

  ‘One minute he was fine. A bit quiet, maybe, but I just put that down to the sea air and him being tired after our walk. And then, he just keeled over. None of that clutching at his chest stuff you see in films. No cry of agony or attempt to utter a few last words. Nothing like that at all. He just toppled over right next to me, and died there on the spot.’

  ‘That must have been a terrible shock for you. Frightening.’

  ‘It’s hard to remember now, exactly how I felt. I don’t think I even knew at the time. Numb, I suppose. But, yes, it was frightening. It was all so unreal too, like being in a bad dream. I kept thinking it couldn’t really be happening and I would wake up soon and he’d still be sitting there next to me, not stretched out on the concrete with all these people gathered around us, watching. Oh, the ambulance came quickly, I’ve no complaints there, and everyone tried, they really did, but he was already gone. Just like that.’ She lifted her hand and clicked her fingers. ‘Like snuffing out a candle. The light had gone from him, in an instant. I think it sort of went from me that day too, if you know what I mean. I haven’t felt properly alive since.’ She took another mouthful of coffee and leaned back in her chair. ‘Just going through the motions …’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Not your fault.’

  ‘Oh, I know. But it’s what we all say, isn’t it? When there are no words that fit. And I am sorry. You know what I mean. For your loss.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Another pigeon landed on the ledge outside the window, or maybe it was the same one returning for another try. They both sat in silence for a while, watching it pecking about at some specks around its feet. William was about to break a piece from his bun and toss it out through the gap, but he was too late. Someone at the next table stood up and banged on the glass, shooing the bird away.

  ‘You’d think they’d do something about them, wouldn’t you?’ Geraldine said. ‘It’s not very hygienic, it being a hospital and all.’

  ‘They’re not doing any harm though, are they? And they have to eat somewhere, just like the rest of us. I’m not sure I would have chosen this particular restaurant myself, given the choice.’

  She laughed. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, I suppose. The coffee’s not bad though, and at least the floor’s clean.’

  William chuckled and changed the subject. ‘Your Lily. She’s a tough little thing, isn’t she? Seems to have come through her ordeal remarkably well. How old is she, exactly? Not even three yet?’

  Geraldine sighed. ‘It’s her birthday next weekend. I expect her mother has something planned. You know, a little party, an outing or something. Or maybe I should say had something planned.’

  ‘She’ll be fine, you know. Lily.’

  ‘I hope so. It’s just that …’

  He waited, but she didn’t go on.

  ‘Look, Geraldine, I can see this has been a terrible shock, but they say she’s all right, don’t they? Little Lily. Nothing a few days rest, a decent meal or two, and plenty of cuddles can’t put right. Whatever happens now, whether she gets to have her party or not, there will be other parties to come. Lots of them. That little one looks like a fighter to me. Gets some of that from her grandma, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘And Ruby? What about Ruby?’

  He shook his head. ‘Well, nobody can tell yet, can they? When she might wake up.’

  ‘Or if.’

  ‘don’t say that. They seem hopeful, don’t they? Maybe when your Michael comes down from the ward, there will be some news, eh?’

  ‘Lily needs her mummy. Whatever her faults …’ Geraldine lowered her head into her hands, her elbows pushing hard against the table. ‘I should have seen this coming, you know. Ruby not coping. A crisis waiting to happen. I should have done something. Done more …’

  He reached over and tentatively placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to reassure her, pleased that she didn’t push him away. ‘do you want to talk about it? They say it helps.’

  ‘No.’ She lifted her head. ‘Thank you, but no. It’s something I’ll have to try to put right myself. If I get the chance. We just play the waiting game
now, I suppose, don’t we? What is it they say? All things come to those who wait. Patience. It’s a virtue, apparently.’

  He nodded. ‘She’ll be okay. I’m sure she will. Whatever’s happened between you can be put right.’

  ‘I hope so. I do love her. Well, both of them really. Lily, obviously, but Ruby too. She’s like the daughter I never … Well, perhaps the daughter I should have had. Yes, she’s young, and headstrong sometimes. Stubborn. But it’s not her fault, the way she is. She didn’t have the best of starts in life. I always felt a sort of responsibility towards her, when she came to work for me, when I took her in, but it was more than that, in the end.’

  ‘I didn’t realise she worked for you.’

  ‘Used to. Not any more. Lived with us too, for a while, when she first came out of care. I offered her a room, as a favour to a friend more than anything, but I liked having her around. A bit of female company, for a change.’

  ‘Is that how she met your son?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Met him properly anyway, although she’d seen him before, she told me, in the bank where he worked back then. She moved in, and then she got herself pregnant, not long after. Well, no, that’s not actually possible, is it? He got her pregnant, my stupid son, thinking through his trousers, never his head. Then, with Lily still so small, they were off to London, without a backward glance. No thought for me. New job, new start. It all happened so quickly. Always was weak, my Michael. Oh, he’s a charmer, all right. Never had any trouble attracting female company, and he was always going to do well in his career. He just has a way about him, you know? Everybody likes him. But he can be so easily led. Just look at how quickly this latest floozy got her hooks into him. Whisked him away to sunny climes, as soon as looked at him. So, it probably is all my fault, isn’t it? All of this mess. For bringing them together in the first place, under the same roof. Michael and Ruby, that is. I had no idea what floodgates I was opening.

  ‘Even so, I should have stuck by her after Michael left her. But she didn’t want me there. Wanted to do it all by herself, to prove she could, I guess. I tried. Phoned, suggested she come down to visit or that I go to her, but it was a long way to drive just to risk having the door slammed in my face. I think it all reminded her too much of her past. Her mother was an alcoholic, you see. Couldn’t look after her. Or wouldn’t. She said Michael was just like her mother. Not the drinking, but the rest of it – giving her a life, some hope, and then abandoning her, snatching it all away. Said she didn’t think she’d ever be able to trust anyone again. And that included me, apparently. I thought she just needed time, to calm down, adjust. She wouldn’t be the first wronged woman, would she? Or the first one having to manage without a man? And at least hers was still alive. Not like my Ken … But it wasn’t about me, was it? Not about my misery. I really should have tried harder …’

  ‘don’t be so tough on yourself. I’m sure, whatever happened, none of it was your fault.’

  ‘But if she’d had me there, for some sort of back-up, babysitting or whatever, she wouldn’t have gone out and left Lily on her own, would she? God knows what was going on in her head. Was Lily acting up, and she just needed a break? Time to herself? Did she just step out for some air? Was she shopping, meeting a man? Not that any of those are valid excuses. Maybe we’ll never know …’

  They sat in silence for a while, Geraldine opening the new packet of pink pills she’d bought earlier, pushing two out of their foil and slipping them into her mouth. She picked up her coffee mug and drained it, swallowing hard, then sat back and closed her eyes. ‘damn migraine,’ she muttered. ‘I always get them in times of stress. Far too often these days, in fact. And I shouldn’t be drinking so much coffee. It’s a trigger, you know …’

  William watched her, concerned, but at least he was discreet enough not to ask any more questions.

  ‘I wish I knew what was happening,’ she said after a while. ‘Surely there should be some news soon? What’s taking Michael so long to report back? I texted him a good hour ago. He knows we’re here, waiting, new car seat at the ready. All he has to do is pop down and let us know how things are. Then we can go back to the flat and work out what to do next, about Lily, and about getting her, and ourselves, back home to Brighton. I can’t leave Kerry in charge for much longer. I really should call her again.’

  ‘I’m sure everything will be fine. Best not to worry. It can’t change anything.’ William moved his spoon around in his coffee and tried to change the subject. ‘Phew, why’s it so hot in here?’ He half stood, shrugged out of his jacket and turned to hang it on the back of his chair. ‘It’s enough to make you feel ill.’

  ‘You’d be in the right place if you were!’ She snapped out of her thoughts and turned her attention back towards him. She’d looked like she’d almost forgotten he was there for a moment or two. ‘Every other customer seems to be a nurse or a doctor.’

  ‘You’re right. And with most of the others in their pyjamas, I suppose they can’t risk it getting too chilly, can they?’

  She laughed, and he could feel the mood lighten.

  ‘So, William, you haven’t said what you do.’

  ‘do?’

  ‘For a living, I mean. You must have a good boss, letting you take time off at short notice like this.’

  ‘Oh, no. No boss to worry about. I don’t really do anything. Not any more.’

  She looked at him quizzically.

  ‘I was made redundant, you see. Almost two years ago now, from an accountancy firm. Yes, I know. Boring! I’ve yet to meet anyone who gets excited by the word accountancy, but it was a job, something I did for more than thirty years, and I wasn’t bad at it.’

  ‘So why did they let you go?’

  ‘The firm were losing business hand over fist, and my area was the first to suffer. Helping the self-employed do their tax returns, that’s what I specialised in. Builders, shops just starting up, small businesses generally. I even had a cattery on the books. Out in the country, lots of moggies spending their holidays in snug little cages, fed twice a day and with the radio on all the time for company. I enjoyed the site visits to that one, and it was better than some of the hotels I’ve stayed at in my time, believe me!’

  Geraldine smiled, curling her fingers around her empty mug as if to keep herself warm.

  ‘But it’s so easy nowadays for people to tackle their own tax. It’s all online. And, once I’d helped them through year one and they had a good idea of what’s involved and what expenses they could claim, they’d ditch the accountant and have a go at it themselves in year two. Another client down the drain, and me not far behind. Writers, quite a lot of them, too, thanks to my dear departed wife …’

  ‘Your wife’s dead? And there’s me going on about my Ken. Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘No, no. Not dead. Just gone. Departed. We got divorced, earlier this year, and I can’t say I’m sorry.’

  Geraldine nodded. ‘Not a happy union then?’

  ‘Not towards the end. We were leading fairly separate lives by then, and we parted on a two-year separation. We’d not been properly together for a while, but it hadn’t really been quite that long. Still, I didn’t mind lying. No point in contesting it, trying to force someone to stay when they’ve so clearly had enough. I think she just stopped needing me. Too much going on in her life that I was never a part of. She worked for a publishing company, you see. Susan. Still does, in fact. Finds a lot of new talent. Nurtures them, as she likes to call it, and she did put a fair bit of work my way, usually when their first royalty cheques started arriving. So she wasn’t all bad.’

  ‘Publishing! That’s the sort of career I would have liked, I think. I used to love reading. Novels, autobiographies. Always had my nose in a book when I was younger, or lugging carrier bags full of them to and from the library, before … Well, before life got in the way. Did she deal with anyone famous? Your ex?’

  ‘To be honest, I used to tune out whenever she got started. Book talk can get pret
ty tedious. Boring. A bit like accountancy talk, I suppose.’

  ‘You weren’t boring me. Far from it.’

  ‘Good! No, I could tell you a few names, actually. The authors I took on, tax-wise, I mean. But I’m not sure I should. The writers I’ve met do tend to be a bit precious. They’re creative types, not necessarily good dealing with money, especially if they get a bestseller on their hands and there’s more of it flowing in than they’re used to. Big spenders too, some of them. I don’t suppose they’d want me telling the world their business, or that they’re broke!’

  ‘Ah, but you’re not telling the world, you’re only telling me!’

  ‘That’s true. Let’s get another coffee and perhaps I can be persuaded to spill a few secrets.’

  Geraldine stood up and reached for her purse. ‘done!’

  ‘Put your money away. This is my treat.’ He winked at her as he got to his feet and guided her gently back into her seat. He hoped that Michael might take a little longer yet. There was no hurry to get back, move the car seat from his car to theirs, help Geraldine to carry in her new clothes or the groceries, and certainly no hurry to get back to his mother’s ceiling and the steamy heat of all that ironing. Nowhere else he needed to be, or wanted to be. Ridiculous though it sounded, sitting either side of a plastic table with this almost stranger, surrounded by old men in crumpled pyjamas, with the car parking fees racking up outside and a young woman’s life hanging in the balance somewhere up there on the sixth floor, he hadn’t felt this relaxed, or this comfortable in a woman’s company, in ages.

  *

  Patsy gazed out of the train window at the trees and fields rushing by, a landscape dotted with sheep and little clusters of brick houses, and cut through by the occasional road. This was the real England. Proper countrified England, with all its emptiness, sweeping greenness and tranquillity. Portugal may be hot and sunny, and it was pretty damn good at blue, but it had no idea how to do a truly lush and typically English green.