She bit her lip and shrugged free from his grasp. Walking over to the bed, she sat on the far side of the mattress. He lumbered over, blocking the light with his frame, before pulling the chair from the two-person table so that he could sit facing her. She had hoped, rather cowardly, that he would sit on the other side of the bed, as far away as was possible in their cramped living zone. That way she might have avoided having to look into his beautiful face.
‘I think we should get married.’ His words were like a jolt of electricity fired into the air.
Anna couldn’t help the gasp of shock or the startled expression that shot across her face. ‘What?’ She wrinkled her nose.
Ned leant forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a while and Dad said I should get on with it and he’s right. Mum’s hinted too. I know you have a problem with the thought of leaning on me and I get it, I do, but you need to get over that, Anna, and I think if we got married, then you wouldn’t feel so bad about me supporting you, supporting us. Plus I love you.’
‘Oh, Ned.’ She let her head flop down to her chest. ‘I want to talk about how we can split up in the best way possible and you ask me to marry you?’
‘Split up?’ he repeated, his mouth hanging open in surprise. ‘Is that what we’re doing, splitting up?’ He rubbed at his chin with his palm; she could hear the graze of stubble against his calloused hand.
‘Yes.’ She nodded, her tears pooling again. ‘I’m sorry.’
Ned sat back in the chair. His breath was coming fast. ‘Shit.’
‘I’m sorry, Ned.’
‘Stop saying you’re sorry.’ His voice had turned sharp. Anger and embarrassment now lapped where only minutes earlier there’d been love and a rosy future. ‘Fucking hell!’ He raked his fingers through his hair, stood up and walked to the window as if he needed air. He flung open the latch and she too welcomed the cold breeze that poured in. ‘I didn’t see that one coming.’
He breathed deeply and she figured he was trying to clear his head. This she understood as hers was a muddle of thoughts too. Guilt far outweighed the relief she had imagined she might feel.
‘Is there someone else?’ he said bitterly.
She shook her head. ‘No. No one else.’
They were both silent for a beat or two, wondering whether this was better or worse.
Anna tried to clarify, knowing she owed him that much. ‘I just don’t feel the way I should. You are lovely, Ned, your whole family is lovely, but that’s not a reason to get married.’ She stood and made her way over to him, thinking that to hold him might make them both feel a little better.
He dodged her grasp. She felt the flat shrink even further, becoming quite claustrophobic.
Ned scooted past her and gathered up his plastic box from the floor, into which he threw a small pile of clothes, his motorbike magazines and two bottles of cologne from the windowsill.
She sat back in the chair he’d just vacated. ‘I also think—’
‘Can you just shut up!’ he snapped. ‘I don’t care what you think! I don’t want to hear your bullshit excuses or reasons. So don’t bother. Christ, Anna!’
She was stunned into quiet, watching as he whipped along the hall and into the bathroom, gathering his toiletries and towel before hurling them too into the box. She knew his behaviour was fuelled by hurt and wasn’t a true reflection of his normally calm nature. Finally he put on his trainers and stood with the box in his arms. He looked back at her, his face contorted, whether in sadness or anger she couldn’t tell.
‘You are fucking weird and I put up with your weirdness because I loved you, but you really are fucking weird.’
He balanced the box on his thigh, turned the latch, then slammed the door behind him in one final act of defiance.
She sat staring after him for a full ten minutes, processing what had just happened, too frozen to cry or shout or laugh, replaying his words over and over. ‘You really are fucking weird.’ The worst of it was he didn’t know half of her weirdness, didn’t know that she used to flag down cabs to try and locate her dad, didn’t know about the alphabet game, didn’t know she wrote to her imaginary future children, didn’t know her at all, not really.
‘I put up with your weirdness because I loved you.’
‘And I guess that’s just it,’ she whispered into the ether. ‘I don’t want to be with someone who has to put up with me.’
She lay back on the bed feeling nothing but emptiness. Not a feeling that was alien to her, but it had been absent for a while. She pictured the granny bedroom at her aunt and uncle’s and let her eyes now sweep the flat.
A... apple. That’s how this started.
B... bed.
C... closet. She looked at the wardrobe door, which was still open. Its empty hangers rattled.
D... duvet. She ran her fingers over the relief of the pattern and pictured Shania sitting on the single bed while she’d packed up ready to leave Mead House. She missed her old roommate. ‘I hope you have your own duvet now, Shania, not a standard-issue institutional one. I hope you’re making your mark, flying high, working hard.’
*
When the alarm buzzed her awake at seven the next morning, her first feeling was one of dread at the prospect of having to walk past Ned’s stall on her way to work. Should she smile, say something, try to make him feel better? Or just hurry past with her head down? She cursed the fact that it wasn’t raining, thinking how convenient it would have been if she could have hid under her brolly, but it was a rare bright day, with barely a cloud in the sky. She took a deep breath and craned her neck out the window – forewarned was forearmed, after all. He wasn’t there! No red-and-white awning, no chirpy cockney patter, no handsome smile. She was gladder than she could have imagined. Lovely Ned was no longer her lovely Ned. She hurried into the shower, got into her smart clothes and set off for work.
Back at the flat that night, she leafed through her file of letters to Fifi and Fox, lingering on one she’d written just a few months back. She smiled ruefully at how happy with Ned she’d sounded and at the little hint she’d included about Sylvie and Jack possibly becoming her babies’ grandparents. It was time to write an update.
Hey Fifi and Fox,
I have been thinking recently that there is always a temptation when your life moves on to remove any evidence that shows you walking a wrong path or making choices that just didn’t work out. Like erasing the name of the boy you used to fancy from your pencil case. I’ve decided not to do that and I’m leaving my letters to you about Ned exactly where I placed them in the file.
I think it’s important, this record of my history, waiting for you.
Ned is a really good person, but I didn’t love him, not in the way you need to if you want to stay with someone and make a life together. He thought I was weird and I realise that my life is weird compared to his. This I think is the biggest reason why we couldn’t stay together. How could Ned, with his loving mum and dad, his cosy life, his great mates, how could he possibly understand what it’s been like for me? How could someone like him get my need for quiet, my need for independence? I am shaped by my life experience and yes, that might be weird, but it is what it is.
I know that leaving Ned moves having you two in my life a little further out of reach and that’s the biggest sacrifice of all. Don’t imagine I’ve stopped thinking about you – I think about you every single day! I just need to find you the right dad. We don’t need riches, or a big house, so long as there’s proper love. That’s what’s important. The things I want for you are things I can already provide, like goodnight kisses on the forehead, a warm bubble bath for you on a cold day. And if you ever get sick, I will wrap you in a duvet and hold you tight on the sofa, feeding you tomato soup!
I think about my mum, who made decisions that didn’t bring her happiness, not in the end. She chose badly, some would say, and I don’t want to do the same. So this has been a good lesson for me. Sometimes things d
on’t work out as you expect them to, but that shouldn’t stop you trying or going for it! In fact, the more you try, the more likely you are to fail and the more you will learn.
So try lots! Fail at lots! That’s okay. It will all be taking you in the right direction.
This much I know.
Love, Mummy x
9
Melissa was on the phone, the receiver cradled beneath her chin while she furiously scribbled notes and nodded. ‘Yes, of course, Your Honour.’
Anna grinned at her. She was really laying it on thick. They exchanged a brief knowing look as Anna strode past.
Work had been a lifeline for Anna over the past four months. She’d really thrown herself into her job, determined to keep herself occupied and give herself as little opportunity as possible to dwell on thoughts of Ned and what might have been. It wasn’t always easy, though. On a couple of occasions she’d left work and had found herself making her way to Jack and Sylvie’s house, envisioning a cup of tea and a bowlful of fruit crumble and custard, before reality caught up with her tired mind and she remembered that she was no longer part of that world. No longer Ned’s bird, as they used to affectionately refer to her. And she had to admit that while she didn’t necessarily long for Ned any more, she dearly missed being part of his family.
Anna stepped inside the walk-in stationery cupboard and scanned the upper shelves, trying to locate the lever-arch box files she needed. She searched the floor, looking for the small rubber-footed stool she usually stood on.
‘Well, this is cosy.’
‘Oh! Hello.’ She gasped at the sound of Mr Knowles’s voice. He’d caught her unawares and was now blocking the door. She felt her cheeks redden and her heart race, partly due to being in such close proximity to a man of Mr Knowles’s status, a partner no less, but also because he seemed to take up all the air and as ever she hated being in a small, dark space with no window.
‘Need some assistance?’ he asked jovially.
‘I’m just looking for the... the little stool thing so I can reach the top shelf.’ She pointed at the files lest there be any doubt about the spot she was referring to.
‘I can help you there.’ He smiled at her and took a step closer.
Anna’s pulse quickened. She was very uncomfortable with the lack of space between them and with his unfamiliar, slightly lecherous tone. She tried to move backwards and cursed the metal racking immediately behind her. There was no escape.
Don’t be ridiculous, Anna! She tried to calm her flustered thoughts. You’re imagining things. Mr Knowles is old and married. He’s only being helpful.
Mr Knowles lifted his hands and placed them on the shelf above her head, either side of her shoulders, almost pinning her there.
She tried to speak but couldn’t find her voice. Fear had rendered her mute.
‘Actually, Anna, I think you’ll find that, like most chaps, the top shelf is one of my favourites.’ His left eyebrow lifted in suggestion.
Anna’s stomach bunched with fear as he slid against her, pushed his arms up and reached for two of the files she needed. Slowly he drew away and she felt... She felt... his body against hers.
‘There we go.’ He breathed out slowly and she could smell something spicy on his breath. ‘And be in no doubt,’ he continued, ‘that I am on hand for whenever you need something.’ He ran the tips of his fingers over her neck. ‘You only have to shout. Or ring.’
She shuddered with revulsion and hoped he didn’t misconstrue that for anything else.
He left the cupboard and closed the door quietly behind him.
Anna thought she might be sick. She quickly walked back to her desk, wary of drawing attention to her distress and not wanting to engage with Melissa, not until she had figured out what to do. But mainly she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and Mr Knowles.
Grabbing her handbag from the back of her chair, she tried to make it seem casual as she dashed across the office, down the stairs and out of the building. It was then that her tears came. She placed a shaking hand over her mouth and swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.
‘Anna?’
She whipped her head around and there was Nitz, in his overalls splashed with plaster.
‘What’s the matter?’ He put a hand on her arm.
She shook her head and wondered where to begin. ‘Nothing. I’m okay.’
‘You’re clearly not okay, girl. Let’s get you a cup of tea.’
Grateful that someone had taken control, she let herself be guided around the corner to the café she knew the lads liked to frequent. She was instantly relieved that Ned wasn’t in it. She stared at the grimy surroundings, focusing on the ketchup splats on the wall and the grease-encrusted glass pot of salt with rice grains nestling in the bottom, placed in the centre of the table next to a wipe-clean menu that essentially listed egg, bacon, fried bread and sausage in any number of combinations.
Nitz arrived back at the table with two mugs of strong tea and sat down opposite her. ‘Get that down you.’ He nodded at her drink and sipped at his own.
‘Thank you.’ She felt her breathing calm a little.
‘Are you upset about Ned? Is this what it’s about? We was all really shocked, you know. Thought you and him were going all the way.’
She smiled, embarrassed to have been the one to dump his mate and just as flattered that he thought her worthy of him.
‘It’s not that. I, er... got into a bit of a situation at work.’
‘Situation how? Have you nicked something, got caught?’
‘No!’ She laughed as best she could through her distress. ‘As if I’d nick something!’
He winked. The diversion had done the trick, her voice had found its natural rhythm and she was, on the outside at least, a little calmer.
‘I’ve worked for this man for a while now – Mr Knowles. He’s one of the partners. I even buy his daughter’s textbooks and his wife’s birthday cards.’ She shook her head. ‘And just now, he... He cornered me in a cupboard. Urgh!’ She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.
‘Did he hurt you?’ All humour had disappeared from Nitz’s voice and his eyes glinted with fury.
‘Not really. He just...’ She looked at the pine wall cladding, avoiding his stare, not knowing how to express what had happened without using words that might mortify them both. ‘He sort of...’ Again she faltered. ‘He rubbed himself against me and made it very clear that he wanted more.’ Her face burned and the words were sour on her tongue.
‘Dirty fucking bastard!’ Nitz snorted angrily.
‘I thought I was going to be sick. He’s a big bloke, Mr Knowles, old, really. Oh God.’ She again fought the desire to vomit.
‘That’s so out of order. Want me to ’ave a word?’ Nitz looked her in the eye, his voice low, a thick vein on his neck standing proud.
‘No! No, definitely not. I can handle it.’ She wasn’t sure this was true, but above all else, she needed her job. ‘Promise me you won’t tell Ned!’
‘I’m on my way to his house now, as it ’appens.’
‘Please, Nitz.’
‘You can’t let blokes like him get away with pulling stunts like that!’
‘I need this job! I need it.’ Her lip trembled.
He seemed to be weighing this up. ‘All right, Anna, ’ave it your way. I promise I won’t tell Ned.’
‘Thank you.’ She took a sip of tea and felt sad at the thought that Ned might not even care.
*
That night she hardly slept, kept replaying the event in her head, wondering if she was in any way responsible – had she given Mr Knowles the wrong impression, however inadvertently? She worried about seeing him at the office, not that she had any choice in the matter. He’d turned her place of work, a refuge of sorts, into something quite different. She doubted he’d have the faintest idea about the effect his behaviour had had on her.
With sleep proving evasive, Anna lay in bed thinking about a nig
ht not long after Shania had arrived at Mead House. It was a Thursday and as she dozed fitfully through the early hours she became aware of a hand under her duvet, stroking her skin. She kept very still, hoping it was a dream, before opening her eyes to see an agency night warden, a stranger, looming over the bed with his finger on his lips, as if instructing her to be quiet. She had let out a small scream, which woke Shania.
‘Get the fuck off her and get the fuck out of here!’ Shania had yelled, loud enough to wake the whole floor.
The man had left, thankfully, and was dismissed by Junior the next day. Junior had been concerned and apologetic, but they had no idea how many others the creep had taken advantage of. It was vile and it made her aware of her vulnerability, her lack of protection. She thought about her evening at Waterloo station and the man with the briefcase who’d made a beeline for her. This incident with Mr Knowles had made her realise that though she was now twenty-four, in some ways not much had changed.
Anna showered and chose her most demure skirt and blouse. She even omitted to put on the little make-up she usually wore and tied her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail. A different person might have called in sick, but Anna was a woman who had lived one step away from homelessness and knew that compared with having no roof over her head, being cornered by Mr Knowles in the stationery cupboard was a snip.
She arrived early, hoping to be busy and distracted by the time everyone else turned up. Her heart sank when she saw that Mr Knowles was already at his desk. She looked round at the door and it was in that second, as she debated whether to go back outside and wait for Melissa to arrive or whether to front it out, that the phone on her desk buzzed. She walked forward and could see it was his internal line. Her stomach churned. Mr Pope wasn’t in yet and other colleagues wouldn’t make an appearance for at least twenty minutes.
‘Yes, Mr Knowles?’ She tried to hide the shake to her voice, still ridiculously conscious of needing to be polite to this man who paid her wages.
‘Might I have a word?’ He coughed to clear his throat.
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