After Isabella

by Rosie Fiore

  ‘I might have photos of it,’ mused Esther. ‘Although my parents weren’t great photographers. No one was, in those days. Lucie probably has more pictures of her school dinners than I do of my entire childhood.’

  ‘You do have some, though,’ said Sally.

  ‘Some what?’

  ‘Pictures from when we… From when you and Isabella were children. It would be lovely to see them sometime, if you do. Our parents didn’t have a camera at all.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘There’s one studio portrait of Isabella and me together – I was about eighteen months old, she must have been seven or so. Then nothing, until Isabella was given a Polaroid camera when she was a teenager. I’ve got a few from then. But nothing from when we were little.’

  ‘I’ll have a dig,’ Esther promised. ‘See what I can find.’

  Sally rang a few times after that, although never more than twice a week. She wanted to talk about the old days, about their childhoods, and about Isabella. She didn’t seem to want to chat about how she was now, and if Esther asked what she’d been up to, she’d say, ‘Oh, this and that,’ and bring the conversation back to their reminiscences. She invariably rang when Esther was relaxing alone in the evenings, after Lucie had gone to bed, and Esther didn’t begrudge her the time. It was wonderful to talk about Isabella. No one in her day-to-day life had known Isabella, and it was hard to keep her memory alive. But Isabella the child, the teenager and the student lived so vividly in Sally’s memories that Esther was often surprised at the accuracy and sharpness of her recollections.

  Then one week Sally didn’t ring. Esther had started anticipating the calls, almost looking forward to them, every second or third day. When the call didn’t come, she felt a mixture of relief and sadness. Relief that Sally’s need to reach out seemed to have passed and sadness for exactly the same reasons. She thought of ringing Sally herself. She would do it the following evening. But for the next few nights she was snowed under with work until it was too late to call, and then it just never seemed the right time. She decided to leave it for now and see if Sally would ring again. She didn’t.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Just one more minute. Esther glanced at her GPS watch and saw she was close to a personal best for five kilometres. She gritted her teeth, put her head down and picked up the pace as she ran up the slight incline towards her house. She could feel a low ache in her calves, and her lungs were burning, but she kept going. She heard her watch give a faint bleep, signalling the end of the kilometre, and she slowed to a walk, still panting. She had equalled but not bettered her best time.

  It was definitely warmer, and as soon as she stopped outside her house, the sweat began to bloom along her hairline and she could feel drops running down her rib cage. She glanced at her watch again. She had twenty minutes before she had to be out of the house if she was to have enough time to prepare for the faculty meeting. A quick shower, wet hair in a sleek bun, and she could be away.

  The house was quiet – Lucie was at school. She went up to her bedroom, set the shower running in her en-suite bathroom and began to strip off her running gear. As she turned to put the things in the laundry basket, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. The regular running was paying off – her legs looked slimmer and more toned, and she could see two distinct dents below her rib cage where her abs had got firmer and flatter. She had never been fat, and had always been relatively fit, but she had recently decided to embark on a more ambitious exercise programme. She had always liked running, but it had generally been a small part of her exercise regime, and usually done on the treadmill in the gym as a warm-up for a weights session or class. A few months before, she had started running outside on some of the crisp, clear, winter mornings and had found she liked it very much. She did some research and learned that long-distance running was a sport dominated by older people and that the majority of marathon runners were over forty. She was gradually building up to longer distances and kept trying to improve her speed, and she had a vague idea that she might aim for a marathon at some point. In the meantime, she loved the solitude of her morning runs, the opportunity for contemplation, and the undeniable effect they were having on her figure and general fitness.

  She stood up straight and looked at herself, naked, in the mirror. Not bad for forty-seven, nearly forty-eight. Not bad at all. Slim legs and a flat belly, with the narrow line of her caesarean scar barely visible. Firm, small breasts and a long, slender neck. She thought of her own mother at the same age. She had seemed middle-aged, almost old. Esther didn’t feel old at all. She felt stronger and fitter than she had in years. She dressed to suit her figure, not a perception of her age. Her mother, for example, would be horrified to be seen in jeans, but Esther, when she wasn’t at work, lived in them. Her mother had always worn her hair short and either had it ‘done’ by the hairdresser or set it herself with curlers. Esther had kept her straight dark hair long, as she always had. There were threads of silver in it, but not many, and every three months or so she got her hairdresser to do a few highlights to keep the colour fresh. She was happy with the way she looked, and more importantly with the way she felt.

  She padded through to the bathroom and got into the shower. The question, however, was this. Would anyone else ever get to be happy with the way she looked and felt? It had been four years since her divorce. At first, she had been utterly focused on getting through the process – finding a new home, making sure Lucie was as settled and happy as she could be, concentrating on her career. But now, things were on a pretty even keel. She wouldn’t be averse to meeting someone. She didn’t know if she would ever marry again, or even if she wanted to live with someone, but she missed male companionship. She missed touch, and intimacy. And by God, she missed sex. Even though she and Stephen hadn’t been particularly compatible, they’d had great sex, and she missed it very much indeed. It had been a very long time. Too long.

  So what was she to do, she wondered, as she shampooed her hair. Ask a friend to set her up? She was pretty sure that if any of her friends knew any eligible single men, she would know about it. Start hanging out in cocktail bars? Pounce on a colleague? Try internet dating? None of the options seemed very appealing. Maybe she would just leave it in the lap of the gods and hope that now she had acknowledged the desire, the universe would deliver. She snorted with laughter as she got out of the shower and dried herself. Chance would be a fine thing. She might be in good shape, but she was a woman in her late forties. According to friends of a similar age who were also on the market, the men on offer were either damaged goods or were looking for a woman half their age.

  Anyway, it was all theoretical. It wasn’t as if she was in a position to go on nights out. Lucie was old enough to come home from school alone, let herself in and be there alone for the hour or so until Esther got in, but she had never left her daughter alone for any length of time at night, and nor was she ready to. With Stephen living in Manchester, her mother living on the Isle of Wight, and no siblings, it wasn’t as if she had a convenient babysitter to hand (how Lucie would hate the idea of being babysat anyway!). Ah well, she thought philosophically, gathering glasses, papers and purse and scooping them into her briefcase. Perhaps she might reconsider the whole thing in a few years’ time, when Lucie was a teenager and more independent.

  But it seemed the subject had been on Lucie’s mind too. On the Friday of that week, they went to the local shopping centre for an early bite to eat at a sushi restaurant. After dinner they were strolling around, looking in shop windows.

  ‘What do you fancy doing this weekend?’ Esther said.

  ‘Don’t know,’ Lucie replied guardedly.

  Esther glanced at her. ‘I thought we might go to the garden centre tomorrow morning and get some bits to liven up the front flower beds. Maybe a film?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Lucie, a little noncommittally.

  ‘Why? What do you fancy?’

  ‘I mean, it sounds nice, but…’

&n
bsp; ‘You’d prefer to do something exciting with your friends rather than hanging with your old mum?’ She nudged Lucie gently. ‘That’s fine, sweetie, do whatever you like. I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy this weekend.’

  ‘But that just makes me feel bad,’ said Lucie, looking up at her.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, because if you don’t do things with me, all you do is work, or run. And then I feel like I’m letting you down by leaving you alone.’

  Esther was a little stung by this assessment. ‘Gracious, Lucie. I’m not your responsibility. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself.’

  ‘I know. But you need to have fun too. See some friends. Go on some dates.’

  ‘Dates?’ She laughed nervously.

  ‘You are allowed to go on dates, Mum. I don’t expect you to be a nun, you know. In fact, I wish you would find a boyfriend.’

  ‘What? Don’t be silly.’

  ‘Why is it silly? You’re really good-looking. All my friends say so. You could find a boyfriend easily, if you ever went anywhere without me.’

  ‘I like being with you.’ Esther knew her words sounded plaintive and manipulative. It wasn’t fair to guilt-trip Lucie into being her lifelong companion. One only had to look at Sally’s life to see how damaging that could be. ‘Okay, okay,’ she conceded. ‘I will do my best to get out and about more and meet people and have “fun”, as you young people say. Now what plans do you have for this weekend?’

  ‘Well, Rebecca invited me for a sleepover tomorrow night,’ said Lucie hesitantly. ‘And we thought we might go swimming on Sunday morning, and then meet up with Clara and Zoe. I’d be back by four or so on Sunday afternoon?’

  Esther felt a little pang, both in anticipation of a weekend which would be spent largely without Lucie’s company, and at the fact that Lucie had been so tentative about sharing her plans. She didn’t want to be a brake on her daughter’s social life. Lucie had always been quite shy, and if she had friends and wanted to go out with them, she should be going without a backward glance. She shouldn’t be worrying about what her mum would be doing.

  ‘Go,’ she said, giving Lucie’s shoulders a squeeze. ‘It sounds like fun.’

  She rang her mother, as was customary, on Saturday morning. Esther generally enjoyed her call with Laura, but on this particular morning she felt a little fragile. When Laura asked about what she was planning to do, how could she admit that Lucie was heading off for a weekend of fun but that she had no arrangements of her own? Laura, with her own busy, sociable existence, would find Esther’s wasteland of a social life bemusing. Esther didn’t like to fib, but she would keep the call as brief as she could and if in doubt would possibly tell a little white lie about some possible plans. She dialled Laura’s number and when it went to answerphone she breathed a small sigh of relief. She left a cheerful message and said she would be out for the rest of the day. It wasn’t true, and it was a bit of a cheat, but better than the alternative.

  She dropped Lucie at Rebecca’s that afternoon, with fervent promises that she was going to have a fun-filled sociable weekend herself. But by the time she had been for an eight-mile run and showered, it was, of course, too late to make arrangements with anyone. She texted a few friends to see if they fancied seeing a film, but they all had plans for the evening already. She considered going by herself but couldn’t face wedging herself in at the end of a row of happy couples out on date night. Equally, a solo restaurant dinner seemed out of the question. There was nothing on TV that she wanted to watch, so she marked some first-year essays. So in the end, her weekend would consist entirely of running and working – exactly what she’d promised Lucie wouldn’t happen.

  Sunday was not much better. She did manage to take herself off to the local farmers’ market and get some cheese and bread, but she went alone and didn’t meet anyone she knew. She rang up her friends Paul and Tim, who lived locally, to see if they wanted to meet for coffee or a drink, but they weren’t answering their phones. She had a vague feeling they were away on holiday. They were a dual-income couple with no children and they always seemed to be away on exotic trips.

  Another friend turned out to be away in Berkshire on a spa retreat. Why wasn’t Esther at a girlie spa weekend? Did no one invite her to things anymore? With a sigh, she realized that the invitations had probably halved upon her divorce, then dwindled to almost nothing when she kept saying no because she was with Lucie all the time. She couldn’t blame her friends. Well, Lucie was right, it was time to take charge and claim her social life back.

  On Monday morning she had her regular catch-up with Regina, the English Department administrator. Regina had been at the university for as long as Esther and knew everything there was to know about the department. She was warm, funny and kind to all the students, if a little fierce with disorganized junior lecturers who failed to submit the correct paperwork. Esther considered her a dear friend as well as a respected colleague.

  They went to the senior common room and got coffee. Regina ran through the details on a couple of upcoming open lectures and reminded Esther about her quarterly meeting with the principal. Business concluded, she sat back in her chair and dunked a rich tea biscuit in her coffee. ‘So how was the weekend?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ said Esther ruefully. ‘Lucie had a fabulously busy one, sleeping over at a friend’s, gadding about.’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I realized I really am Billy No-Mates. My twelve-year-old daughter all but shoved me out of the door and told me to go and get a boyfriend. And I realized that not only do I not know any eligible single men, I barely have any friends left.’

  ‘Nonsense. You have loads of friends. People just get very busy with their own lives, that’s all. Everyone would be thrilled to spend time with you if they knew you were available. Go on, make some dates with people. Pedro and I are always happy to get together and do something. Anytime.’

  ‘Thanks, sweetie. Does Pedro happen to have a handsome Hugh Jackman lookalike single colleague who’s been begging him to set up a double-date?’

  ‘Funnily enough, no. And if he did, the line of women applying for the position would stretch around the block.’

  Esther sighed. ‘I know. I can’t begin to imagine how I would go about meeting anyone.’

  ‘There are always groups to join, you know.’

  ‘Oh Lord, like what? The Women’s Institute? Or sad singles groups?’

  ‘Come on, Esther, this is London! There are hundreds of groups for people interested in all sorts of things – drama, art, sports… Why don’t you join a running club?’

  ‘I could…’ said Esther doubtfully. She’d never run with other people. Would it be odd? Competitive? Would she hate it?

  ‘Seriously. Do a search online. I bet you find something that appeals to you. And start emailing and ringing everyone you know. Lucie’s right. You need to get out there.’

  Later, Esther got an email from Regina with a list of running clubs in her area, and details of the local parkrun, a free five-kilometre race that took place in local parks around London every Saturday morning. Maybe she could give that a go. Regina had also found a few social groups that met in London on a weekly basis to go for a meal or perhaps to the theatre or an art gallery. They seemed aimed at people who were new to the city, but Esther reasoned that in a sense she was new to socializing in the city as a single woman. She pinged off a quick thank you to Regina and invited her and Pedro for dinner the following week.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Esther had barely given Sally a thought since the brief flurry of late-night calls – Lucie had asked after her a few times and she had replied in vague terms, promising that she would ring soon and see how Sally was. But one evening as she worked at the dining room table, she was surprised to see an email arrive from Sally Millais. It was so unexpected, it took her a moment to recognize the name.

  Dear Esther and Lucie,

  I wanted to drop you a line and say thank you so mu
ch for encouraging me to get a computer and get connected. It has changed my life! I got a laptop, and an iPad mini for when I am out and about, and I now have a high-speed internet connection at home. I have been attending classes at the local library, which has opened my eyes to the wonders of the internet. I can’t believe I missed out on it for so many years! I have made some good friends in my computer class, and I have a new set of online friends on the help forum our teacher has introduced us to.

  I was excited to discover that the fingers don’t forget, and I can still type as fast as I used to. I may even think about looking for a job!

  I am also thinking about taking some driving lessons and getting a car. Perhaps once I have done that I would be able to drive over and visit you! That is going to take a bit of time though. I have learned I need to get a provisional licence and that the whole thing is quite a palaver.

  I would love to see you in the meantime. Can we meet for lunch this Sunday? I did some research and found a nice-looking Italian restaurant near my house, and I have seen that I can book a table online.

  Love,

  Sally

  Esther found herself smiling at the email. What a transformation. Access to the internet, something most people took for granted, had wrought such change in Sally’s life. Driving lessons, groups, forums – it looked as if Sally’s social life was more active than her own. She called Lucie, who was sitting curled up on the sofa with her laptop.

  ‘I just got the most amazing email from Sally. Come and read it.’

  ‘I got it too,’ said Lucie. ‘I’m reading it now.’

  ‘You got it too? I didn’t know she had your email address.’

  ‘Neither did I,’ said Lucie, but she didn’t seem very concerned about it.

  ‘I wonder how she got it. Mine is easy to find – it’s on my page on the university website – but yours shouldn’t be accessible to anyone you don’t know.’