by Jane Green
Thinking of you and sending my love,
Will
To: Will
From: Holly
27/11/06 9:56:24 AM
Subject: Re: Apology
Will –
What an amazing letter. Thank you for being so honest and so brave – clearly you’re writing to the right person, since I am someone who finds it far easier to express herself on the page than in person. Mostly, though, I feel honoured that you’ve chosen to reveal yourself to me, and I’m relieved that this is a way for you to get at least some of it out.
I think I do know what it feels like to be that alone. In many ways, I feel like I’ve been alone for years. I’m not sure whether you’ll understand, but when I was younger, I suppose when Tom and I were closest, I never did feel alone. Tom was always my closest friend, my ally, but since I’ve been married I haven’t really felt like I’ve had an ally. Of course Marcus is my partner, but he is away so much for work – I realize as I’m writing this that I do understand loneliness far better than I think I’d really like to admit (God, big step for me even writing this down… and I apologize if I’m gabbling).
As for fear, it doesn’t come naturally to me – I tend to rush in guns a’ blazing–but I can relate to the fear of our own mortality. Somehow we are not supposed to lose people we love – we’re too young. I remember friends of my parents dying when I was a child, but even though I am now the same age as they were, I don’t feel old enough to lose people, and if people I love can die in a flash, then so can I.
So clichéd to say that when someone dies, it forces you to re-examine everything about your life, and I’m not sure I’m ready to re-examine it all now (I think I may not like what I find… joke!), but it does definitely make me aware that my time here is finite, and there are still things I want to do, to achieve, still so much about my life that hasn’t turned out to be the way I expected.
Or perhaps this is just a mid-life crisis?
So… sigh… (gabbling again)… the point is, I think, that you are entitled to feel exactly what you’re feeling. Tom’s death has forced all of us to re-evaluate, and perhaps in your case you are having to step into a role that you weren’t prepared for. BUT – and so important for you to hear this, Will – it’s a role I know you can do. I have such wonderful memories of you when we were younger – you were always so sweet and so caring even when you were, as usual, getting into trouble (of course, I didn’t know then you had a crush on me and, admittedly, perhaps I am being naive. Perhaps you were actually a monster who did a very good line in pulling his big brother’s friends…). I think this is going to be such a difficult time for all of you, but you can get through it, and just as you said yourself at the memorial service, Tom wouldn’t have wanted you all to give up your lives. Tom’s probably looking down on each of us now, shaking his head, sighing and saying, ‘Pull your finger out, you silly arse.’ (Can’t you just hear him now??!!!)
I’m also so glad you felt able to write as honestly as you did, and so eloquently as well – who knew the annoying little brother would grow up to be so emotionally aware? Seriously, though, much kudos to you for being able to express yourself in this way – I think if there is any outlet at all for the kind of grief you must be feeling, the kind of grief we are all feeling, writing is probably one of the best.
And I’m sure you know this, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, but you can absolutely trust me. Strange, I know, given we haven’t seen each other properly in about twenty years, but I would love to become friends, and mostly would love to be there for you if ever you need to talk.
Holly x
Friends. They can be friends, can’t they? Naturally she can’t deny a slight hint of attraction, but weren’t all her old friendships with men based on a hint of attraction? Didn’t those crushes almost always disappear, leaving in their place friendships that were fun and strong and solid?
And Holly has been so lonely. She never thought it was possible to be this lonely in a relationship. But until rediscovering friendships with these old friends, she hadn’t thought about what she was missing.
But aside from Olivia, Saffron and Paul, who better to be friends with now than Will? Not a replacement for Tom, never a replacement for Tom, but someone else who loved Tom as much as she did, someone else who has a shared history with her, someone else perhaps she could talk to.
For Holly misses having a man to talk to. She and Marcus have become, she realizes with horror, the couple she has always pitied in restaurants. The couple who look bored to be with each other, who spend the evening eating a delicious meal and exchanging less than a handful of comments. They sit in silence and observe people around them, both looking as if they wish they were anywhere but where they are, anywhere but with the person they are with.
For the last year, Holly has tried very hard to talk to Marcus. She has even – and, oh God, how like a teenager she felt – made a list of subjects to talk about over dinner just to ensure they don’t sit in silence.
She stores up stories about the children and about her work, but she tails off when she realizes Marcus isn’t paying much attention. So unlike her dinners with Tom, the two of them talking so quickly because there never seemed to be enough time to say everything they wanted to say.
She remembers one time when they went for a Chinese meal in Queensway. Out of nowhere Tom brought up her time as a nightclub hostess, complete with fake French accent, in a smart French club in a basement in Piccadilly. Holly started laughing, and something about the night sent the laughter spinning out of control, both Tom and Holly laughing so hard they were leaning over the table clutching their stomachs, tears running down their faces. People at the neighbouring tables had started laughing too, just at the sight of Tom and Holly together.
Has Marcus ever made Holly laugh like that? Well, yes. In truth there are a couple of times he has. But they seem so very long ago, a lifetime ago. Holly can’t remember the last time they really laughed together, just the two of them, nor the last time they even had fun.
‘One person can’t give you everything,’ she said to Saffron just the other night when Saffron phoned her from LA to bemoan the fact that P, who was supposed to be coming over, had just cancelled, and she wished he’d just hurry up and realize they were soulmates, made for each other, perfect together.
So odd, Holly thought in the beginning, to have fallen straight back into these friendships as if no time had gone by at all, and perhaps more odd that it wasn’t odd, but so normal, and so easy.
‘You must think I’m mad,’ Saffron sniffed dramatically, ‘phoning you when I hadn’t spoken to you for about twenty years before Tom died, but Holly, you’re the only girlfriend I have who is happily-ish married, and I need your advice.’
‘Happily-ish?’ Holly laughed. ‘I’m the very last person you should be coming to for advice. Plus I don’t believe in that whole soulmate theory.’
‘Probably because you haven’t met him yet,’ Saffron said. ‘Oh God, Holly, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to come out the way it sounded, and maybe Marcus is the one.’
‘Don’t worry.’ Holly chose to ignore it. ‘But I really don’t believe there’s one perfect person, I think there are any number of people who could make you happy. And I also think it’s completely unrealistic to place so many expectations on one person. No one person can fulfil all your needs.’ And as she said it, she thought about Will. It is innocent, she thought. It’s just having a man she can talk to, a man with whom she can be friends.
‘I know that,’ Saffron said. ‘I do, really, but I love this man. I just never expected life to be this hard.’
Me neither, Holly thought, but she didn’t say anything at all.
Chapter Thirteen
To: Holly
From: Will
30/11/06 10:23:38 PM
Subject: Friends
Dear Holly,
I liked getting your email. It made me smile, and it made me think. All the things you
said about questioning your life are absolutely right. I hadn’t thought of it as a mid-life crisis – in fact, I don’t feel old enough to actually be having a mid-life crisis, but I started to think about what would happen if I were to die tomorrow (more apologies for the morbidity), and I realize I wouldn’t leave much behind.
Tom had created so much. Scary Sarah. She may not be entirely my cup of tea either, but there is no doubt in my mind that they loved each other, and although I couldn’t ever imagine myself with anyone that rigid, I know it worked for Tom, and I believe that, despite what we all thought, they had an exceptionally strong marriage.
And of course the children. Dustin and Violet. Dustin like a little Tom, serious and gentle, always preferring to hang out with the grown-ups just as Tom did when he was little. But both of them so incredible – these little people that Tom created, who will take his spirit into their world.
Then there was his success in business. Not that I ever wanted what Tom had – the suits and the business meetings and the ties… the conventional life, which fills me with horror, but I always felt safe with Tom, always trusted his advice because he always seemed to know where he was going, and I have less than no idea what I am doing from one day to the next, let alone for the rest of my life.
So I have wondered what I would leave, and the answer is not much. I never thought that bothered me, but all of a sudden it does. Not that I’m going to do anything stupid like get married to the first girl who captures my heart (although if you’re interested in divorcing Marcus and making an honest man out of me, do let me know!), but Tom’s death has made me think, for the first time, that maybe I should settle down a bit. Get a mortgage. Find a girl I could love. Maybe have a couple of kids.
I can’t even believe I’m writing this! It does feel good, being able to ‘talk’ to someone about this. I suppose it is true what they say after all – so much easier to write your feelings down than talk about them. I think if I ever said any of this stuff out loud, they’d put me in the loony bin.
Hope you are having a peaceful day and that you have got your little monkeys to bed. I’d love to see photos of them—do they look like you? I’m imagining Daisy as, naturally, a mini-Holly – I know she’s younger than you were when I first met you, but I still remember you as this exotic bohemian creature, and I am hoping Daisy has inherited that. Unfairly I see Oliver as being a mini-Marcus, and I only say unfairly because I hope he isn’t as serious or as stuffy as I’ve heard Marcus is.
Love,
Will
To: Will
From: Holly
01/12/06 4:09:28 AM
Subject: Re: Friends
Will —
I have always wondered who ‘they’ are. ‘They’ do seem to say an awful lot, and they do seem to be right a lot of the time, so if you ever come across ‘them’, do let me know – would love to say hello…
I ought to be fast asleep, but find these days that I wake up in the middle of the night and I’m done for. Recently I’ve been coming up to my studio – a quiet place to read, have a cup of tea or surf around reading inane gossip on the Internet, but how lovely to have received your email and lovelier still to have some peace and quiet to send back a proper response.
My day yesterday was quite peaceful, since you asked. The monkeys went to bed early, and I was able to sink into a hot bath with a glass of wine, then crawl into bed. As far as I’m concerned, a good night is going to bed by nine, and a great night is going to bed by eight. Tonight was a great night. I have to say I do love it when Marcus travels around the country for trials – I can do whatever I want whenever I want, although it occurs to me, writing to a young, energetic, childless whippersnapper such as yourself, that you probably think I am deeply boring, going to bed at such an unseasonably and unreasonably early hour.
Yes, well. You’re probably right.
And you made me laugh saying I was exotic and bohemian. I never saw myself like that at all. I’m thinking it was those cheap Camden Lock Indian fringed skirts with little mirrors all over them that must have made me look bohemian. I have a very hard time picturing myself as anything other than a mum and wife these days. I like the word exotic too.
Am going to forward a joke after this – don’t normally forward those things and hope you don’t find the levity inappropriate, but this one made me laugh and I figure you could do with smiling a bit these days. I love that you felt able to unload to me – truly. I feel enormously honoured, happy that you said such sweet things and that I feel I have rediscovered a friend I didn’t know I had, and sad that this is all the result of such a tragedy.
To: Will
From: Holly
01/12/06 4:42:56 AM
Fw: Cowboys (Friends Part II)
An old cowboy sat down at the Starbucks and ordered a cup of coffee. As he sat sipping his coffee, a young woman sat down next to him.
She turned to the cowboy and asked, ‘Are you a real cowboy?’
He replied, ‘Well, I’ve spent my whole life breaking colts, working cows, going to rodeos, fixing fences, pulling calves, bailing hay, doctoring calves, cleaning my barn, fixing flats, working on tractors and feeding my dogs, so I guess I am a cowboy.’
She said, ‘I’m a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about women. When I shower, I think about women. When I watch TV, I think about women. I even think about women when I eat. It seems that everything makes me think of women.’
The two sat sipping in silence.
A little while later, a man sat down on the other side of the old cowboy and asked, ‘Are you a real cowboy?’
He replied, ‘I always thought I was, but I just found out that I’m a lesbian.’
To: Holly
From: Will
01/12/06 10:33:25 AM
Re: Fw: Cowboys (Friends Part II)
So not only am I a whippersnapper, but I’m a lesbian too???!!!!!!!
Holly bursts into laughter reading Will’s email. She files it away and goes back to reread his previous emails. She’s not sure why she does this, but she has reread them every day. They make her feel happy. Free. Young. She even stole away one night when Marcus was asleep, just to check if another email had arrived. It had. It seems Will is as obsessive as she.
There is nothing quite as exciting as sitting at her desk, clicking on the inbox and seeing his email address, the anticipation so sweet at times she can hardly stand it. For the first time in years, Holly has something to look forward to, a reason to get up in the mornings.
She alternates between being giddy with happiness when the emails arrive and riddled with insecurity and doubt when they don’t. A lot of the time, she feels as if she is sixteen.
She is fun and playful with the children but far too distracted to give them her full attention, and her distraction is affecting her relationship with Marcus. She doesn’t care any more that he’s never at home or that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in her life.
*
One night Marcus comes home so much earlier than usual and announces that he has booked a table at Petrus as a special treat. Holly runs upstairs and changes, and Marcus frowns at her as she walks back into the hallway.
‘New clothes?’
‘Yup.’ Holly twirls. ‘You like?’ She is wearing a brightly coloured print dress, huge splashy flowers, and a long, retro necklace of enamel daisies. She fell in love with all of it when she took Daisy to Petit Bateau in Westbourne Grove the other day. And of course Daisy ended up with underwear and Holly ended up with four bags stuffed with the type of gorgeous, funky, hell–bohemian–clothes that she had tried to pretend she would never wear any more because she knows they don’t fit her role as Marcus’s wife.
‘It’s fun,’ Marcus says eventually, and they leave, Holly not feeling the slightest bit upset by Marcus’s clear disapproval. When it comes to Marcus she doesn’t feel much of anything these days. Not love. Not hate. Nothing. Sheer indifference.
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Marcus’s wife, it seems, has left the building.
At the restaurant Marcus says, ‘You seem miles away.’ Tonight Holly hasn’t done what she so often does– chatter away about inane things, nineteen to the dozen, so all he has to do is smile and nod every now and then and look interested while he is actually thinking about work. Tonight Holly seems happy but not altogether there. And she looks different. Her hair is not pulled back in a sleek ponytail tonight, the way he likes it. It is messy, even a little curly. As it happens, it is actually quite sexy.
When they get home, Marcus comes up behind Holly in the bathroom and puts his arms around her. She turns round and kisses him back, and fifteen minutes later, when he rolls off her with a kiss and a smile, he watches her get up to go to the bathroom and says, ‘Holly, that was fantastic.’
‘It was rather, wasn’t it?’ She shoots him a smile as she disappears through the doorway. What she doesn’t tell him is that she closed her eyes – just twice, and only for seconds at a time – and imagined it was Will. Not that she is planning an affair – God, no!–but she just wanted to see what would happen if she did it. What the hell.
