Theo

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he asked the grey face that stared back at him in the bathroom mirror. Not for the first time, he wished he was someone else. He turned over the lapel of his suit jacket and pinned his fishing fly to the underside, just as Mr Porter had done all those years ago. He ran his finger over the delicate green and blue feathers and the square red bead. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Porter. Sorry I didn’t fight harder for you, sorry I didn’t stand up for you. If I had that time again—’

  A knock on the door made him jump.

  ‘Leaving in five!’ his father called, on his way down the stairs.

  Theo bent forward and rested his forehead on the cold glass. ‘I keep waiting for my life to begin. And just when I think it might, I’m hauled back to the start line. What would you say, Mr Porter? What would you say to make it all better?’

  He closed his eyes and stood like that for a while, letting the cool glass chill his head, until his mother called from downstairs.

  ‘Darling! Daddy’s getting in the car!’

  * * *

  ‘So what’s your role exactly?’ Spud shouted as he speared the scampi, dipped it in tartare sauce and forked it into his mouth. The music was too loud to allow for easy conversation, just as the lighting was too low to allow you to fully see the grimy residue on the tabletop or the matted stickiness on the carpet tiles.

  Theo rubbed his palms together. ‘I don’t really know.’

  ‘You don’t know?’ Spud laughed uproariously. ‘Only you, Theo, son, could have a job and not know what it is.’

  ‘Well, I mean, obviously I know the title. I am currently in the valuation department in an assistant, junior, valuation role.’ He sipped his warm pint.

  ‘Sounds interesting.’

  Theo ran his hand through his hair. He couldn’t joke about it. He was still too raw at having messed up and been forced down a route not of his choosing. It felt like he’d been knocked out of a race at the last hurdle and it hurt.

  ‘You should be happy you have a job and that you’re not in an industry Thatcher’s bent on dismantling. Plus it seems like the routine suits you – at least you’re not sleeping the day away any more.’

  ‘I guess. And I am feeling a bit better. There are days, though—’

  ‘Oh, mate, there will always be days.’ Spud, as ever, spoke wisely. ‘Graduation was a bit of an event. My mum, dad, nan, sister and her bloke all came down, but we were only allowed two tickets so Mum and Nan sat with me and the others stood at the back of the hall. Mine was the only family to cheer when I went up to get my scroll.’ He shook his head, clearly chuffed.

  ‘Quite right too.’ Theo liked that Spud hadn’t shied away from discussing graduation like most people would have. Instead he’d brought it up early on, so that once aired they didn’t need to feel embarrassed about it any more.

  ‘I’m looking at doing telesales in some grubby office block on Tottenham Court Road. Commission only and proper shitty, but it’ll pay the rent, I hope.’ Spud grinned. ‘And fingers crossed it won’t be for too long, just till I figure out how I’m going to fund my master’s.’

  It had taken Theo years to fully comprehend that for most people there was a direct correlation between money and opportunities and that if you lacked the former you would likely have far fewer of the latter. But Spud had never held that against him. ‘God, you’re going to be one of these eternal bloody students while the rest of us work for a living!’ Theo slapped the table and used his dad’s voice.

  The two of them laughed.

  Theo sipped his pint. ‘I sometimes feel like everything I want and everything I think will bring me fulfilment is dangling just out of reach.’ He recalled the feel of Kitty’s skin against his fingertips. ‘Can I ask you something, Spud?’

  ‘If it was anyone else, I’d probably say “no” to that question, as I’d expect it to be followed by a demand for cash, but as you’re loaded, I’m going to go ahead and say yes, fire away.’ He grinned and chased a chip around his plate to catch the last few breadcrumbs.

  ‘Are you happy?’

  ‘Right now?’

  Theo shrugged. ‘Not only right now but in general. Do you wake up happy? It always seemed like you did.’

  ‘No, I usually wake up hungover in my pants and with a mouth like a badger’s arse.’

  ‘God, please can we just have one serious conversation!’ He took a breath. ‘I feel like... I feel like everyone else has got life sussed while I’m still trying to figure it all out. And it’s not new – I’ve always felt like this. Even when I was young, it was like I couldn’t work out how to be around other people or be like other people. I’d watch boys in my year planning for the weekend, the next break, the following term – always looking ahead and comfortable, as if life was a travellator and all they had to do was stand on it and grab whatever they passed, whatever took their fancy. But for me...’ He looked up as someone in the corner laughed. ‘I struggled just trying to figure out the day ahead and I couldn’t look any further and if I did I could only see more of the same, nothing good.’

  The edge to his voice made Spud sit up straight and place the fork flat on the plate. ‘Am I happy?’ He considered this, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I think so. I mean, I’m not unhappy, so I suppose I must be happy.’

  The two men looked at each other.

  ‘But is that enough?’ Theo asked. ‘To say your life is satisfactory because you’re not unhappy – is that enough?’

  ‘I think you might be overthinking things. And...’ He paused and stared into his pint. ‘And I think you might still be a bit depressed.’

  Theo glanced up at him, noting the way Spud avoided his gaze. He guessed it had taken a lot for his friend to say this. ‘Possibly, but I’ve always felt this way. Like I’m waiting for my good times to start, as if I might go round the next bend and see a big neon sign with “Get your happiness here!” – a destination that I will arrive at. But instead, no matter how far I travel, it feels like there are only more bends.’

  The music quieted, as if giving Spud the floor. He leant in with his elbows on the table. ‘So maybe you’ve always been a bit depressed. Is that possible too?’

  Theo shrugged. ‘I guess. But are people actually born like that, is that what you think? Or did it start when I got to school and the shit began to hit the fan?’

  Spud took a big slurp of his pint and wiped the froth off his lips. ‘I honestly don’t know. But I do think a lot of it is about expectations. As you know, I come from Wigan and my dad’s been a miner at the Golborne pit all his life – though it looks like that’ll be coming to an end very soon, thanks to Maggie. As kids we were just happy that he had a job, happy that we got proper hot dinners. When I was eleven, ten miners were killed in an explosion down the mine and we were happy that Dad wasn’t one of them. Right now my family is happy that I’ve been to university and that they got a day out in London to watch me graduate. I don’t try to look too far ahead.’ He downed the rest of his beer and placed the empty glass on the table. ‘You, Theo, son, have had one hell of a lucky life. I’m not knocking you for it.’ He held up his palm. ‘You were no more able to control where and to whom you were born than I was. I also know that the shit with Kitty has knocked you for six, but I think sometimes—’

  ‘You think sometimes what?’

  Spud wiggled his tongue up around his gum, freeing bits of scampi that had got caught. ‘Sometimes I think you’re looking for perfect where perfect doesn’t exist. It’s important you look at what you’ve got and not at what you haven’t.’

  Theo raised his eyebrows and looked at his friend. ‘I hear what you’re saying, but I had such a crap childhood that I think it might have damaged my ability to feel happy. It’s like my calibration is out.’

  ‘Then you need to find a way to recalibrate yourself, mate, or you’re going to have an unhappy adulthood as well. And in my opinion that would be a bloody shame.’ Spud picked up his empty pint glass and sto
od. ‘Same again?’

  9

  1996

  After eight years of working for Montgomery Holdings, Theo was well versed in every aspect of the family firm. The company bought land, built on it and acquired and renovated property in prime London locations, managing its portfolio to great effect. Because of its prudent, risk-averse strategy, the company’s assets grew year on year. Theo found the ‘profit before anything’ mentality of his father and the rest of the board dispiriting, but in his quiet, unassuming way he had made it clear to staff and contacts in the industry that his values were more socially and environmentally oriented than those of his dad. He read articles on social policy and was drawn to the work of reforming organisations like the Joseph Rowntree Foundation, but he kept his head down, doing as he was asked and trying his best to fend off the depression that lurked inside him like a sleeping thing, curled and quiet but very much present. There was no denying he was still in his father’s shadow and that rankled.

  At least they were no longer sharing a house. Shortly before his twenty-fifth birthday, his mum had announced out of the blue that she and his father had bought him a lovely red-brick Edwardian house in Barnes and that Theo was free to do with it as he wished. The implication was that it should encourage him to find a wife and settle down to family life, but even if that wasn’t on the cards, Theo was genuinely thrilled at finally gaining his independence. He could at last pursue his various flings without having to face a morning-after grilling when he didn’t come home to his own bed. Not that there was ever anything much to tell. Few relationships made it past the second night together and none had lasted more than two weeks. Despite himself, the spectre of Kitty still haunted him, and the flash of red curls in a bar or on a dance floor was enough to make him do a double-take and step forward for a closer look.

  Theo liked working in the City, close to the beating financial heart of the country, and he felt genuine affection for Villiers House, the handsome art deco building on Cheapside, a stone’s throw from St Paul’s Cathedral, which his great-grandfather had acquired in the 1920s. Theo appreciated the history of the building: each time he leant on the brass-topped handrails, curled his fingers around an ornate window latch or put his foot in one of the slight wells worn in the tread of the stone steps, he did so with a sense of connection to the relatives who had done so before him. Montgomery Holdings occupied the top floor, as it had since his great-grandfather’s time, but the other six floors were rented out to financial trading companies.

  Villiers House was mere yards away from several wine bars, and it was in these that he and Spud whiled away many an evening. But Spud was no longer free to stay out into the small hours, for fear of incurring the wrath of Kumi, his Japanese–American wife of three years. She wanted him home in suburbia at a reasonable hour, especially now that she was six months pregnant and not coping too well with the changes to her life. But, as ever, Spud appeared happy.

  Theo noted that for the first time in their friendship, Spud seemed to be holding something back. He always shied away from giving specific details about Kumi’s pregnancy and he quickly changed the subject when talk turned to his impending fatherhood. Theo presumed this was because Spud didn’t want him to dwell on what he’d missed out on with Kitty. He loved that his friend was sensitive to this, but it had put the tiniest crack in their closeness. Spud was the only person on earth who knew he had a child; whether that child was male or female Theo still didn’t know, let alone what their name was, but he did know that they would be turning eight very soon. He tried to picture them, tried to imagine the birthday party Kitty might organise for them, but he couldn’t get beyond the dissatisfying image of a dark shadow of indeterminate features and size.

  ‘Have you got the quarterly figures for Marcus?’ Perry Montgomery stood in the doorway of Theo’s office, impatiently tapping his signet ring on the wooden frame in double-quick time. His dark hair was now streaked with grey, but he still looked dapper.

  Theo had been standing at his office window staring absent-mindedly down at the people scurrying back and forth on the pavement below. He turned now to answer his father. ‘Nearly.’

  ‘Oh good. I’ll tell the board they can wait until nearly,’ his dad shot back sarcastically.

  The words flew across the room and almost choked Theo. As was usual, he averted his gaze.

  ‘Could you be a little more specific or do you want me to ask Marcus to step in and give you a hand?’ Perry’s lips were set in a thin line and his eyes were fixed on the empty chair behind the desk, as if Theo had been caught shirking.

  Theo’s instinct was to dart back to his desk, take up the high-backed chair and start going through the spreadsheets, but he had a feeling that this false show of activity would only irritate his father more. He couldn’t win. ‘I don’t need Marcus’s help. I’m on it,’ he levelled.

  ‘Clearly.’

  ‘I was just on my way out to grab some lunch – I’ll do the figures the moment I get back. Can I get you anything?’ He picked up his wallet from the corner of the desk and put his jacket on. The spacious office suddenly felt claustrophobic.

  ‘Lunch?’ His father’s tone was so disdainful and was followed by such a lengthy sigh that as Theo walked past him he wondered if he’d accidently said he was going out dancing.

  He decided to curtail his lunchbreak. Often he walked for a couple of blocks to clear his head, looked in the odd shop window or spent an age deliberating over the exact contents of his sandwich made freshly to order, relishing the change of scenery, but not today. His father would be watching the clock until his return.

  London was hosting Euro 96 and the streets were uncomfortably rammed with football-mad tourists, many of them sporting their national colours. In the sandwich shop, Theo chose quickly, ordering the same as the woman in front of him to save on thinking time. He raced back to Villiers House, stepping into the road to avoid the throng of idlers who were clogging up the pavement and waving football scarves in the air.

  ‘Hold the lift!’ he shouted with his arm outstretched, brandishing the brown paper bag that contained the favourite sandwich of the lady who’d been ahead of him in the queue. He watched the doors begin to close, cursing his timing, but then felt a ridiculous sense of relief as he glided through the gap in the nick of time. Any win on a day like this was to be celebrated.

  He took up a spot at the back of the lift and looked over at its only other occupant, a young woman with a dark bob who was standing in front of him.

  ‘Sorry! I was trying to figure out which button might hold the doors, but they’re all a bit worn,’ she said, wrinkling her nose.

  ‘Please don’t worry about it.’

  She glanced at him briefly over her shoulder and as her eyes swept his face he took the chance to do the same. She was not standard pretty, but she had an open face and a ready smile. Great skin, bright eyes. He liked the look of her. He liked the look of her very much.

  *

  ‘So, this is unusual.’ Theo gave a small laugh as they took their seats in the snug of the Three Tuns. ‘I meet you in a lift only this afternoon and now here we are. Cheers!’ He raised his pint and clinked it against her small glass of white wine.

  ‘You’re a fast worker.’ She sipped her drink, slurping from the top. ‘I was really glad you asked me for a drink. Thank you.’ She beamed at him openly.

  ‘You’re welcome. I’m really glad you said yes.’

  Theo liked her lack of pretence, her down-to-earth manner. She made him feel relaxed. This was the exact opposite of the nervous state he usually found himself in on a first date.

  The circumstances of their meeting had also been unusual. The creaky, sixty-year-old Villiers House lift had got stuck between floors, as it sometimes did, and when he’d realised that she was getting anxious he’d done his level best to distract her and keep her chatting. The more they’d chatted, the more interested he’d become and soon he’d forgotten they were waiting to be rescued by Bernie th
e maintenance man. He’d simply enjoyed finding out about the young woman, whose name was Anna. He’d been quite disappointed when the doors had finally slid open.

  ‘So you live in Fulham?’ he said now, trying to recall the various facts from their lift chat.

  ‘Uh-huh, in a cupboard. Literally! My flat isn’t much bigger than this table.’ She rapped her knuckles on the surface as she placed her glass down and wiped her hands on her skirt.

  She was unlike other women he knew. Nothing about her was pushy or presumptuous and she didn’t seem to have any vanity or sense or self-importance. She wasn’t one of the pouty, coming-on-to-him types he usually ended up with and neither was she sort of pretty, bright girl who expected to be adored – like Kitty. Theo realised that for the first time in as long as he could remember he was interested in someone. He was interested in her, Anna Cole with her shy demeanour and her cockney accent. He wondered how long Ned, the ex she’d mentioned, had been out of the picture and whether he’d been replaced. He hoped not.

  ‘So you commute from Fulham? I come in from Barnes. I think the traffic in London is getting worse, don’t you? It took me an hour to get over here in a cab from Paddington the other day. From Paddington! It might actually have been quicker to bloody walk.’

  ‘I get the Tube to Mansion House usually, but sometimes I get off a couple of stops early and walk to Villiers House – to keep fit, you know.’ She giggled. ‘My friend Melissa’s always going on at me to take up swimming or cycling, but I don’t know how, do I, so that wouldn’t be much good, would it?’ She laughed again.

  ‘You can’t ride a bike?’

  ‘Nope. Or swim.’ She reached for her drink and sipped again.

  ‘Anything else you can’t do?’

  She chortled. ‘I think the answer to that is: considerably more than I can!’

  He smiled, thinking of Kitty the swimmer, who might have grown her gills by now. This girl...