Anna

by Amanda Prowse

  Anna smiled now at how Melissa had turned into this wonderful mother, thinking of her loud friend who had made her laugh every single day when they worked together right there on Fulham Broadway. She pulled her coat around her shoulders and walked briskly past her old office, still wary of bumping into Mr Knowles, definitely a member of the arsehole club. She thought of Jordan and smiled, then pictured the shiner Sylvie had given her creepy boss. All of a sudden, and without too much consideration, she took a sharp right in the direction of where Ned’s parents lived. It immediately felt like the most natural thing in the world to go and visit the couple she had been so fond of.

  Anna was confident that Melissa wouldn’t mind or even notice if she was half an hour late. She was usually knee-deep in Lego around this time, cooking supper for Gerard with a baby monitor turned up full whack and a large glass of Chardonnay in the hand that wasn’t stirring the cooking pot full of sauce from a jar.

  She stared at the block of flats with its concrete walkways and the chequerboard of lamplight in some of the windows. There was something rather fairy tale about it and Anna felt a pull of affection for this life, a life that could so easily have been hers. She trod the path to the flat and waited by the front door, thinking of the first night Ned had brought her there, how natural it had felt being among his family, his friends. She smothered the image of Stella fiddling with the pearls at her neck, Perry knocking back Scotch like it was lemonade, and the way they always managed to make her feel like an outsider. The stiff formality of their home was at such odds with the warm, open hearth of Sylvie and Jack.

  Peeking though the window into the chaotic kitchen crowded with pans, cardboard boxes crammed with goodness knows what, and tins of food, she saw it was reassuringly just as she had remembered it. She pressed the doorbell and felt the pulse of nerves in her veins. Supposing Ned was there? Well, if he was, she’d say hi and leave... It was as she considered making a run for it that the door opened and there stood Sylvie in her apron and holding a cigarette. It had been a good few years since she’d last seen her, but she hadn’t aged a day.

  ‘Come in then! Standing there letting all the heat out!’ Sylvie tutted affectionately, as if Anna had been there only yesterday and this was nothing out of the ordinary.

  Anna stepped forward and into her arms. It felt like coming home and was the sweetest, most sincere hug she had had in a while. She inhaled the scent of sweet perfume, fried food and cigarette smoke that clung to Sylvie’s set, grey hair.

  ‘How’s my girl?’ Sylvie released her and let her eyes sweep over her form, top to toe. ‘You look lovely.’

  ‘I’m good. It’s been so long.’

  ‘Cup of tea, darlin’?’ Sylvie asked, and just like that Anna remembered her lack of sentimentality, her core of steel and her heart of gold.

  ‘Cup of tea would be lovely. Jack not here?’

  Sylvie’s shoulders straightened as she filled the kettle at the sink and rested her cigarette on her bottom lip. She reached into her pinny pocket with her spare hand and fished out a bit of loo roll.

  ‘He’s gone, love. Last June. Terrible shock. His bloody asthma.’

  ‘Oh, Sylvie! Oh no! I am so sorry.’ Anna felt incredibly sad. In her mind she held on to the fantasy that things always stayed just as she’d left them. The realisation that they hadn’t was shattering. If the proof were not standing in front of her, she would have been hard pushed to picture Sylvie without Jack or vice versa.

  ‘Well...’ Sylvie sniffed as she plugged the kettle in. ‘No amount of sorrys is going to bring him back, that’s for sure, but I d’narf miss him, the silly old sod!’ She sniffed again.

  ‘I bet you do. He was a lovely man.’

  ‘He was.’ Sylvie nodded. ‘It’s the little things I miss. I used to nag him about getting a dishwasher and he’d say, “Dishwasher? You’ve got me!” and now I do the dishes on me own and it’s my saddest time. And I miss his noise in the morning. I used to lie in bed and he’d be up five minutes before me alarm, rattling around in here, clinking cups and running the tap and I used to curse him for waking me up too soon. But oh my good God, what wouldn’t I give to hear him now, just the other side of the wall, making me a cuppa before me alarm.’

  Anna nodded her understanding. ‘I remember when my mum died, and you’re right, it was the little things... I always used to tread down the backs of my school shoes and just slip them off when I came home from school and when I woke up the next morning, Mum would always have unpicked the double bows and placed them side by side under the radiator with the backs pushed up and the laces looped outside so they wouldn’t get stuck under my foot, all ready for me.’ She gulped and stared down at her feet, the memory as vivid now as if it was yesterday. ‘When I eventually went back to school after she’d died, I couldn’t find one shoe and when I did, the laces were still knotted and I had to squeeze and shove my foot in and I cried. I sobbed because even though I was only young, I knew that this was one of a thousand little things that Mum had always done for me but would never do for me again.’

  And then I got Theo and he unlaced my boots for me and set them side by side and I knew he was the one.

  ‘Oh good Lord, will you look at us? Right maudlin pair!’ Sylvie sighed. ‘Biscuit?’ She pulled the dusty wooden biscuit barrel from the shelf and popped off the lid.

  Anna took the obligatory two soft custard creams, knowing resistance was futile. ‘Thank you.’

  The women made their way into the cramped sitting room. The lack of space was largely due to the addition of a large, unwieldy running machine on the rug in front of the fireplace.

  ‘Ooh, what’s this then? Are you into your keep-fit?’ Anna sidled past the huge contraption, trying not to spill her tea.

  ‘No, bloody thing drives me crackers! Ned’s wife, Cheryl, bought it for me, thought it might encourage me to stop smoking – did it buggery! I use it to hang the washing on to dry and when Joan my mobile hairdresser comes to do me hair on a Thursday afternoon, we put my chair on it so I’m up high and Joan can reach easier, it helps with her dodgy back. I’ve never even switched it on, but I don’t tell Cheryl that – she’s a kind girl, means well. But would you look at the bloody thing!’ Sylvie tutted at it with love in her eyes.

  Anna swallowed, forming a picture of Ned’s wife, who now had a name – Cheryl. Generous Cheryl, who cared about Sylvie’s health. A tang of jealousy bloomed on the back of her tongue; she washed it away with hot tea and a small nibble of custard cream. ‘Is Ned okay? Happy?’

  ‘Oh, he’s smashing. Here, wait till you see these little bobby-dazzlers.’ Sylvie reached over to the nest of tables and plucked a framed photo of two little boys, aged about four and five and both in full Chelsea strips. ‘What do you think? That’s Ned and Cheryl’s boys, Alfie and Archie, they’re proper boys, run her ragged, they do, but she worships them. We all do. They get away with blue murder, but I can’t resist them! They march straight in here and climb up till they can reach me chocolates, then they put their bloody awful telly programme on and lie end to end on the sofa, like lords of the manor. Oh, they have me in stitches! The things they say! Jack was proper smitten. They miss him. We all do.’

  Anna held the picture in her palm and stared at the two little faces, beautiful like their dad.

  They might have been mine...

  ‘You all right, girl?’

  Anna nodded and handed Sylvie back the picture of Alfie and Archie. ‘They look lovely. Lucky you.’

  ‘Yes, lucky old me.’ Sylvie let her eyes wander to the chair that used to be Jack’s.

  ‘I... I’m sorry I haven’t been before and I would have come to Jack’s funeral had I known.’

  Sylvie humphed, as if this reflection was rather pointless. She reached for the packet of cigarettes on the arm of her chair. ‘That’s all right, love. It’s just life, isn’t it? We are all busy, too busy. I heard you got married – Nitz bumped into that American mate of yours. The one with the big gob. I see her
around sometimes, usually hear her first.’

  Anna laughed and couldn’t wait to share this with Melissa. ‘Yes.’ She ran her thumb over the back of her wedding ring. ‘He’s called Theo and he’s lovely, Sylvie, you’d like him.’ She felt the creep of a blush along her neck, a misplaced awkwardness at the fact that she had finished with Ned, however long ago.

  ‘Well, course I would! Bring him with you next time. I’ll make him a fruitcake, everyone loves my fruitcake.’

  ‘Yes, they do.’ Anna sipped her tea and wondered what the hell she was doing. It was a dangerous game, poking around in the boxes of her past that she had sealed and filed long ago.

  ‘Have you got little ones?’ Sylvie asked, taking a drag on her newly lit cigarette and holding the smoke in her chest.

  ‘Not yet,’ Anna managed, cursing the sting of tears at the back of her throat.

  ‘Well, you want to get a move on! Time waits for no man and no woman’s eggs!’ Sylvie laughed and wheezed simultaneously.

  ‘Do you think you and Jack would have been just as happy if you hadn’t had kids?’ Anna swallowed the remaining half of her biscuit.

  Sylvie let out a sound that was part snort, part wail. ‘Ooh, now there’s a question.’ She shook her head at the absurdity of the suggestion. ‘I mean, I loved Jack, God knows I did – I do!’ She exhaled, blowing blue smoke up towards the yellowed ceiling. ‘But a life without being a mum?’ She turned down her lined mouth and shook her head. ‘I know some women choose that, and that’s their right, and some women have no choice and make the best of it. But for me? It’s not a life I’d want. I don’t know what I’d have done without my littl’uns. And it’s not only missing out on kids – I can’t imagine not being a nana.’

  ‘I think a lot about my mum and how it was such a waste of motherhood – not that I’m not grateful to her, and she was wonderful to me, but to get such a short space of time at it...’ She ran her hand over her face. ‘I don’t know, Sylvie, I’m probably thinking too much.’

  ‘I guess the thing to remember is that you don’t miss what you don’t have, isn’t that what they say?’

  Anna needed air, but she fought the compulsion to run out the front door. She finished her drink and exchanged a warm goodbye, making a promise to come back soon that they both knew she was unlikely to keep.

  Sylvie wrapped her in her arms. ‘You take care now, girl.’ She wagged her finger at her like she was a child. ‘Tell that Theo to look after you. Be lucky!’

  ‘I will.’ She blew a kiss and trod the path, pulling her collar closed around her neck.

  I will be lucky and I will take care, as best I can. But you are wrong, lovely Sylvie, you can miss what you never had. I miss my mum being here now that I am grown up, I miss my brother chatting to my husband, I miss my dad being there for my birthdays, I miss family Christmases and I miss my babies, wherever they are...

  It was these thoughts that made falling asleep difficult, that and the fact that she was unconsciously waiting for the sound of Theo’s key in the front door. He and Spud must have made quite a night of it.

  She was in the first throes of a dream when she felt him sidle under the duvet. She could smell the tang of beer and cigarette smoke on him, and he was decidedly damp.

  ‘Youokaydarling?’ she managed in her half-wakened state.

  ‘I went to Blackheath and got caught in the rain,’ he whispered.

  Anna took in his words, too comfy to move and too dozy to ask what he’d been doing all the way out in Blackheath. She did, however, notice that his movements were a bit spiky and his breathing uneven, as if something had unsettled him. She felt him move across the mattress and lie against her crescent-shaped form, spooning alongside her, skin to skin, with his face tucked against the warmth of her neck.

  ‘I love you, Anna. I do. I love you so much.’

  She smiled as her head sank deeper into the pillow. She flung her right arm backwards and let it rest on his head. I bet Cheryl and Ned don’t have this. We are lucky. We are magic.

  ‘Loveyoutoo.’ She yawned before sleep dragged her down.

  15

  Anna rushed from Leicester Square up along Long Acre – the excitement of being in the West End for her never waned. It was on days like this that she wished Jordan were closer, knowing he would love to be walking the pavements of Theatreland, staring at the posters, offering a critique of actors he didn’t know and looking up in awe at the bright lights, murmuring, ‘One day...’ under determined breath.

  ‘I miss you, Goldpie,’ she whispered into the grey mist of the London morning.

  Only last week she had mailed him a picture of their new puppy Griff, part Alsatian, part goodness knows what, chosen from a dozen upturned, expectant snouts pressed eagerly to the viewing windows at the dog rehoming centre.

  Theo had bent down in the corridor to admire a spaniel with an appealing bound and an eager little muzzle that was almost smiling. Anna had laughed, watching her man fall in love with the little creatures who needed a home, knowing that to pick one would be a hard task. She figured it was the pretty spaniel that would be coming home with them, but then she turned and saw Griff. Unlike the other dogs, who seemed to understand that they needed to preen and look as appealing as possible, he just lay there with his long brindle snout on his big paws and one ear turned down. When he did deign to look in her direction, his eyebrows lifted at the inner corners, his mouth drooped and his expression was one of pure sorrow.

  ‘Oh! Oh, look at you!’ She fell to her knees and placed her hand on the glass of Griff’s enclosure. She’d seen that face a dozen times during her stay at Mead House, she knew how it felt to have given up hope, one of life’s rejects. Like the dented tins left last on the shelf, the ones no one really wanted because they didn’t know or care what wonderful things might be contained within.

  ‘Hello! Hello, my darling,’ she cooed.

  ‘He’s had a bit of a rotten start, young Griff.’ The kennel supervisor spoke with resignation. ‘He’s a bit of a loner and has trust issues. Sure, he’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s the type of dog that will thrive if loved enough.’

  ‘I can do that!’ she had offered forcefully and without hesitation. ‘I can love him enough!’

  Theo had stood and reached for her hand, which he squeezed in support. ‘Yes, you can.’

  The nights she spent lying on the kitchen floor with their new resident, stroking his flank and explaining that there was no need to be afraid, he could stop shaking, no one here was going to hurt him, ever, were starting to pay off. Griff had lost his tremble and had twice now crept close to where she sat on the sofa, pushing his nose onto her calf. This had made her happier than she could describe. Theo had been right: it had helped take her mind off the tension between them, tension that hadn’t really gone away since their Maldives trip the previous month.

  She eagerly awaited Jordan’s response, knowing it would be blunt and humorous, but also that he would understand the absolute joy she found in a dog like Griff.

  Turning sharp left, Anna picked up the pace until she reached the little café in Drury Lane. Lisa was already in situ and had commandeered a booth.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, my train was delayed. Nightmare!’

  ‘More like you couldn’t leave that doggy! You are obsessed, woman.’ Lisa smiled, having been regaled with tales of Griff during an excited late-night phone call.

  ‘I am!’ Anna admitted. ‘Completely.’

  ‘How many times did you go back and reassure him you were only going out for a while and not to worry?’

  Anna threw her head back and laughed loudly at the accuracy of her half-sister’s words. ‘More than five, less than ten.’

  Lisa rolled her eyes.

  Anna looked around the café. ‘Where’s Kaylee?’

  ‘Well, yes, lovely to see you too!’ Lisa tutted. ‘You can’t even hide your disappointment at it being just me!’

  Anna laughed. ‘Sorry, it is lovely to see
you, I was just expecting to see the little munchkin.’

  ‘Micky drove us up and he’s taken her to see the street entertainers in Covent Garden. We’ve got about half an hour, I’d say, before being an uncle out and about in town loses its novelty and becomes a chore.’

  ‘Oh, she’ll like that.’ Anna didn’t want to waste time talking about Micky, who could still only treat her with contempt. The discord sat between her and Lisa like an unpleasant, sharp thing, which they largely dodged around and rarely mentioned. ‘Give her this from me.’ She placed a navy paper Gap bag on the laminate tabletop and smiled.

  ‘You shouldn’t have! She’s a lucky girl. Thank you, Anna. She loves her clothes.’

  ‘My pleasure. I like looking at all the little outfits, so much cool stuff!’

  Lisa peeked inside the bag at the pink sweatshirt and the packet of rainbow-striped socks.

  ‘You sounded keen to meet up, everything okay?’ Anna’s thoughts had spun with all that Lisa might be wanting to say, none of it positive.

  ‘Yes, everything’s good. I just wanted to tell you something.’ Lisa pushed the bag away and clasped her knuckles on the tabletop, as if this required no less than her full attention.

  Anna sat forward on the banquette, keen to hear.

  Lisa took a deep breath and dipped her chin. ‘I remember the day we met, when you came to the house—’

  ‘I think we all remember that day.’

  ‘You said you wished you knew what had gone on between your mum and my dad. Our dad,’ Lisa corrected. ‘You wanted to know if it was a quick, irrelevant thing, a fling, and you thought that maybe he’d only written to you because he felt guilty or because his time was running out.’