by Helen Mcginn
Annie ignored her mother’s attempt to change the subject. ‘So why didn’t you stay together?’
‘Circumstances. It just wasn’t meant to be.’ Julia took another quick sip from her coffee cup. ‘Top up?’ She offered Annie the pot across the table.
‘No, thanks. I’ll be on the ceiling if I have any more. Point is, Jess and I are just a bit worried – understandably, I think – that you were going off to meet a complete stranger. Or worse, that you’ll come back married. Again.’
‘Annie! What do you take me for? Of course I’m not going to come back married. It really is just meeting an old friend and he happens to think that a few days in Rome is more exciting than a garden centre in Guildford. Anyway, I don’t need to marry again.’
‘That qualifies for understatement of the year. Sorry, couldn’t resist.’ Annie slipped in the apology before her mother could protest. ‘Anyway, you can’t get married again without our written consent, remember?’ Annie gestured inside with a nod of her head.
‘Oh, you’re not still going on about that, are you? I can overturn that anytime I like,’ Julia laughed.
After Andrew had left, taking his holey green jumper and cords with him, Annie and Jess has made Julia sign a piece of paper. In fact, it was the back of a cigarette packet; Julia was never far from a Silk Cut and an ashtray in those days. And written on the paper, the following:
I, Julia Shield, hereby promise not to marry again without both my daughters’ written consent.
The paper was signed, dated and crumpled, the result of a few glasses of wine, much laughter and Julia’s attempt to then dispose of the contract in the bin. Jess had immediately fished it out, laminated it with sticky tape and stuck it to the front of the fridge, where it had stayed ever since. ‘Three’s enough,’ Jess would say, jabbing a finger at the front of the fridge on her rare visits.
‘Where are you staying?’ Annie desperately tried to sound casual.
‘It’s called the Locarna, I think. Not sure exactly where it is but it sounds perfect.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s staying there too, I think.’
‘What? You’re staying in the same place? Mum!’
‘Annie, I’m old enough to decide whether to stay in the same hotel as a man if I so choose.’
‘In the same room?’ Annie was now wide-eyed.
‘No, not in the same room! Give me some credit.’
‘Oh, OK. For a minute I thought you were, you know. Oh, I don’t know. Awkward.’ Annie drained the last of her coffee. ‘Will you let me know when you get there so I know you’re safe?’
‘Yes, of course I will. I’ll book a taxi to the airport. I’m flying out on Monday afternoon.’
‘What time?’
‘About two o’clock, I think. From Heathrow.’
‘And you’re back on Thursday?’
‘Yes, quite late. Sandra’s coming in to feed the cat and water the plants whilst I’m gone.’ Sandra was Julia’s neighbour on the other side.
‘And what will you do when you’re there?’ Annie was aware she was starting to sound a little too interested.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Walk around, take in the sights, eat and drink too much, I should think. I’ll show you a picture.’ Julia got up slowly and moved towards the house. Annie watched her mother go through the conservatory to the sitting room. Every surface was covered in trinkets, vases, candles or photo frames with faces – some old, some young, but always happy. Books filled the shelves from floor to ceiling; mostly biographies, Julia’s favourite genre. Well-thumbed novels fought for a spot on the lower shelves as she couldn’t ever bear to part with a book once read. The walls were barely visible as paintings and framed pictures and photographs jostled for position, telling Julia’s life story, albeit not in chronological order. After a few minutes, Julia returned with a photo in her hand. It was an old black-and-white picture showing a young man with windswept hair and smiling eyes. Annie guessed he would have been in his late teens. He was grinning broadly at whoever had taken the photo – must have been Julia, thought Annie – and behind him was a beach. With the white horses in the background frozen in time, the man wore a large fisherman’s jumper and striped scarf around his neck.
‘That was taken in Cornwall, in the summer of 1961. I was nearly seventeen. He was nineteen. Our families both holidayed in the same small village on the south coast, not far from the top of the river. We’d known each other since we were about ten. That summer, he and I went back to stay there and on that particular day, a beautiful sunny one as I remember, we’d walked from the village all the way along the river path and over the headland to a cove round the corner. There was no one there but us. Patrick had borrowed a friend’s camera so that we could take some pictures. That was my first attempt.’
‘Why didn’t you stay together?’ Annie had tears in her eyes. One look at the picture and she knew, simply from the way he was looking at her taking the picture, that he’d really loved her mother.
‘Well, it just wasn’t meant to be. We were too young, really. He was away at university in one city and I went to work in another. That’s it.’ Julia shrugged her shoulders, her eyes not leaving the photograph.
‘So what made him get back in touch?’
‘A funeral, actually.’
‘Whose?’
‘The friend who lent us the camera that took that photo. Richard, his name was. Apparently, it made Patrick think of me and he wanted to, you know, get in touch before it was too late.’
‘How did he find you?’
‘There’s this thing called the Internet…’
‘Ha, ha, very funny. So, he stalked you online?’
‘Yes, I suppose he did.’
‘Bit creepy, don’t you think?’
‘Well, only if you then don’t get in contact. He was trying to find me so that we could meet, catch up, talk about old times, find out what happened to our lives… I don’t know. I’ve not spoken to him. This has all been done by letter.’
‘So, he finds you on the Internet but doesn’t think to contact you by email?’
‘No, I just got a letter from him telling me about Richard’s death and saying that he’d love to see me to catch up. Like old friends, I guess.’
‘Except you’re not. You said he was your first love.’
‘He was. But we’ve obviously gone on to live our lives, and been very happy, so I like the idea of, you know, coming full circle.’
‘As long as you don’t get married, Mum.’
‘Stop it, of course I won’t. Actually, I’m rather looking forward to seeing Rome. I’ve always wanted to go. Just never got there.’ Julia looked far away for a moment, before collecting herself, smoothing down her dressing gown and reaching for the empty coffee cups.
Dear Julia,
My sincere apologies if this comes a bit out of the blue but as you may have heard, Richard Fern died recently. He was diagnosed with cancer about a year ago and his health deteriorated very quickly in the last few months. I lived not too far from him so managed to visit every couple of weeks for a catch-up over a pint (if he could, depending on treatment). Anyway, we talked about old times at length, our old friends especially. Your name came up often; Richard adored you, as I’m sure you’ll remember! It’s the only reason he lent us that blessed camera of his when we were in Cornwall. But thank goodness he did, because the photographs I have of our time together there are so very important to me. They remind me of one of the happiest times of my life.
Before he died, Richard told me that I should get in touch with you. Sadly, the fact that life is short had been bought a little too much into focus for him. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about you, and would love to see you again.
I feel I should tell you my story, briefly. A few years after we last saw each other, I met and married a wonderful lady called Kathy. We met when I was briefly back from Paris, where I was working as a photographer; she went on to be a lectu
rer, and mother to our two children, Oliver and Emma. We were married for more than forty years. Kathy died just over five years ago. That too was cancer, which I suppose is why I resolved to try to help Richard through his illness.
I’ve had a very happy life and really, don’t have any reason to feel hard done by. But the one thing I’ve always wished turned out differently is what happened to us. I realise it is too late to change anything but in the time that we have left (sorry if that sounds a bit maudlin, I don’t mean it to), I’d love to hear what’s happened in your life.
So, I have a proposal. Do you remember how we always talked about going to Rome? You were passionate about your history of art, I wanted to go and see the architecture of the place. And, of course, we never got there. I realise this might come across as the ramblings of an old, slightly mad man but the thing is, Richard asked me to make sure his ashes were scattered somewhere more exotic than Gerrards Cross, where he lived. And his favourite city in the world was Rome. I can think of nothing I would love to do more than meet you there, and we can scatter Richard together. Or, if that’s rather grim, I’ll scatter him first.
If you are still reading, I’m a) thrilled, b) slightly surprised and c) hoping you might say yes. Let me know when you’ve had time to think about it.
With fondest love,
Patrick
Julia held the letter in her hand. She hadn’t shown this to Annie, knowing it would have meant yet more questions. But when Annie had gone, Julia had read it once more. What surprised her was how normal it felt to be holding something written by Patrick. His writing was just as she’d remembered. Maybe she’d always expected he would be in touch again at some point. She couldn’t be sure. But what Julia did know was that she very much wanted to meet Patrick in Rome. Which is why she’d replied, yesterday, to the email address written on the letter, the day after receiving it. They’d agreed to share the cost (he’d offered, Julia had said she’d pay her own way), staying at a hotel he’d suggested and made plans to meet at four o’clock in the afternoon, to the right of the front of the Pantheon as you look at it, on the following Wednesday from the date on the letter – and Julia had said she’d wear a purple scarf so that Patrick could spot her in the crowd.
He’d explained everything perfectly in the emails that followed so making the arrangements was done without fuss. Julia was excited at the prospect of discovering a new city; one she’d always longed to visit. And she loved travelling alone: no one to insist on arriving at the check-in gate first (Husband No. 2, Simon, had always done that); no one jabbering away for the entire flight (Husband No. 3, Andrew, was a terribly nervous flyer, never stopped talking); Julia was, for the first time for many years, looking forward to going away. She normally loathed having to leave her beloved home, not least at this time of year when so much was happening in the garden. But this time she was ready for an adventure, even if it was only for a few days.
Julia put the letter back in its envelope, sat down at the computer on the table in her conservatory and typed ‘Rome weather’ into the search bar. If she was going to travel light, she needed to make sure she packed the right clothes.
Annie’s phone vibrated in her pocket as she stood on the sidelines, watching the boys finish their game of football. It’ll be Jess wanting an update, she thought. But it was James.
‘Hi.’
‘Annie, I’m so sorry. Again.’
‘I know you are.’
‘But I have to ask, did I miss the part about my mother coming to stay?’
Annie laughed. ‘Shit! Has she been on the phone already? Oh God, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you when I got back this morning.’
‘Tell me what? Are you leaving?’ James sounded truly panicked.
‘No! Of course not. Don’t be so ridiculous. But it’s a bit of a weird one, I must admit.’
‘Just tell me!’
‘OK, well. Mum has been asked to go to Rome with her first boyfriend. Patrick is his name. He’s written to her out of the blue and asked if she’d like to go. And of course it’s a crazy idea but Mum being Mum has said how lovely and she can think of nothing more exciting than an unexpected trip to Rome for a few days. Except Jess thinks he might be a complete weirdo, or worse, she’ll come back married. Again.’
James was laughing now.
‘I’m being serious! You know what she’s like. Anyway, Jess has decided to go too, not that Mum knows, and begged me to go with her. Follow Mum out there just to keep an eye on her. And she offered to pay for the tickets on the grounds that she’s, well, loaded. I think she’s actually excusing herself from a slightly awkward work situation so is desperate to get away for a few days. You know, with that idiot Rob. I told you about it. Anyway, that’s not the point. So I know it’s mad and I should have talked to you about it first but I was so pissed off with you last night that I drunk-booked a flight and then called your mother and asked her to come and stay. Not actually drunk, but too many glasses of red wine. So, you know, bit reckless. But technically it’s partly your fault. I’ll fly on Tuesday, back on Thursday. I’ll get everything ready for Patty so the boys are sorted…’
‘Annie, it’s fine. But just so I get this right, you and Jess aren’t planning to tell Julia you’re following her out there?’
‘No, of course not. She’d have a fit.’
‘Well, she’d have a point.’
‘We’re just going to keep an eye on her, that’s all. Make sure she doesn’t end up being abandoned in Rome. I mean this Patrick might not even show up! What then?’ Annie sounded genuinely worried.
‘Look, I think you and Jess will have a brilliant time and you should go regardless of Julia being there. And I’m not saying that just because I forgot our ten-year anniversary.’
‘Although there is that…’
‘I know, I know. Don’t milk it. Anyway, fill me in when you get back. I’ll see you in a bit.’
‘See you in a bit.’ All things considered, that could have been worse, she thought. Now all she had to do was make enough Bolognese sauce to feed the boys for a few days. That and rustle up a Roman costume before Monday morning.
4
Jess stood in front of a make-up counter mirror under the harsh light of the Duty Free area, hair tied back, peering at her reflection. ‘God, my Botox bruises are bad.’
‘I don’t know how you can do that to yourself,’ said Annie. ‘I mean, what if your entire face collapses when you’re older?’
‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ Jess pulled at the skin on either side of her cheeks.
‘I’m serious! Surely injecting poison into it is going to have consequences somewhere down the line?’
‘Maybe, but I’d rather have smooth features for now. Anyway, it’s only the tiniest bit around the mouth to get rid of the smoker’s lines.’
‘Even worse!’ Annie laughed. ‘And anyway, you’re gorgeous without it. You really don’t need to do anything. Me, on the other hand…’ Annie grabbed her tummy.
‘Oh, now you’re being ridiculous. You’ve had two babies, for God’s sake!’ cried Jess.
‘Maybe so, but still…’ She wobbled it for effect.
‘Come on,’ laughed Jess, ‘we’ve got time for a glass of champagne if we’re quick.’
‘But the flight’s boarding in a minute.’
‘Annie, we’ve got plenty of time. Just a splash in the lounge before we go to the gate. It’s on the way.’ Jess had insisted on upgrading Annie’s ticket to business at the check-in desk, which of course she’d been able to do with one flash of her gold flying card.
Once seated with a glass of free cold champagne in front of each of them, Annie decided it was a good moment to broach the subject of Rob, to get it out of the way. Keep it brief, she thought. And besides, they were in a public place so it couldn’t end in an argument.
‘So, why the sudden exit stage left?’
Jess took a small sip, swallowing quickly. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on,
Jess. You know what I mean.’
‘Well, to be honest, I’d just had enough.’
‘Of Rob?’ Annie couldn’t keep the hope from her voice.
‘God, no. Not him. That’s not even, you know, a thing. It was stupid. I was stupid. I know you don’t approve and, honestly, I’m not very proud of myself at all.’ Jess took another sip, longer this time. A pause, then: ‘I ran into Ben.’
‘When?’ Annie’s eyes widened. She put down her glass.
‘Last week. We didn’t speak.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘He didn’t see me. Well, I don’t think he did, anyway. I was on my way in; he was on his way out. Revolving door.’
‘Didn’t you call out to him? I mean, if he’d known you were there…’
‘What, Annie? What do you think he would have said? What would I have said?’ Jess took a large slug of champagne.
‘Well, “hello” would have been a good place to start.’
‘It’s not that simple, Annie. You know that.’
‘But how will you ever know if you don’t see him?’
‘I know, but I was the one who ended it. It’s not my place to start it again. He’s got a whole life that doesn’t involve me now and it’s definitely not for me to fuck it up. Again.’ Jess drained her glass. ‘Come on, let’s go. Last call.’
‘Shit!’ Annie scooped up her bag and followed her sister towards the door, grabbing a last handful of free cashew nuts as she went.
Once on the plane, Annie couldn’t help but run through the list of things in her head one more time. Food? All done. A few hours of batch cooking Bolognese sauce and banana cake on Sunday morning had made her feel better about being away for a few days but, as it turned out, Patty had turned up with enough chicken casserole, lasagne and apple crumble to feed them all for weeks, let alone three days. There were clean school uniforms in the boys’ wardrobe and food for packed lunches in the larder. Clare was on standby to have the boys after school on one of the days if Patty fancied a break and James promised he would be home in time to say goodnight to them.
