The Day I lost You

by Fionnuala Kearney

  From the edge of the bigger kids’ play area, I dial Doug’s number. My lungs swell with anticipation as I wait, then deflate the moment he answers.

  ‘Jess,’ he says. ‘Good to hear from you. Though where are you?’

  I move nearer the door to dilute the background noise, one eye still on the children.

  ‘I’m at a kid’s birthday party.’

  ‘Ahh, the joys of only working in term-time.’ In one sentence he manages to irritate me but I bite my tongue. ‘Did you get the phone?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you unlock it?’

  ‘No, look, that’s not why I rang. I need your help.’ The words feel bigger than they are.

  ‘Okay, let me just … wait a sec, can you?’

  I know he’s put his hand over the mic on the phone, is probably moving out of earshot of a colleague.

  ‘What’s up?’ he says.

  I can tell that he has left the room he was in. ‘I’m not sure where to start.’

  ‘How are you?’ he interrupts any flow I may have had. ‘I text but you don’t reply. Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m doing okay. Well as you, I suppose.’ We may be divorced but I have never doubted Doug’s love for Anna; never doubted that he is currently in the same awful limbo as me.

  ‘How’s Rose?’

  ‘Still beautiful. She’s the reason I’m calling.’ With that I hear her squeal behind me. She’s running towards me, towards the rope-latticed wall at full pelt, Tim on her tail.

  ‘Hi, Nanny,’ she yells before sprinting off again.

  ‘That was her,’ I tell Doug.

  ‘I could tell.’

  I can sense he’s smiling. ‘You know I’ve never asked you for anything. Not once.’

  ‘What is it, Jess?’

  ‘I need some money.’ Kids’ voices scream from the far end of the play area.

  ‘Ok-ay …’

  I hesitate for just a second, then talk. I have no option. ‘I could only ever work term-time because of Rose. If you remember when she went to school I moved jobs. When I took a lesser salary, Anna paid half the running costs of everything. The mortgage, the bills …’ It was probably more, in reality. Anna never seemed to be short of money.

  There is an empty silence which neither of us fills.

  ‘I went part-time to look after Rose when she went to school,’ I continue. ‘That was our deal, Anna and me. That was what worked, what we did. As soon as she got the job in the bank, she was meant to be saving for a deposit. I suppose they might eventually have moved out …’

  Silence.

  ‘I’ve used any savings I had to get this far – not that I had much.’ I rub my forehead with my fingertips. ‘I’m not making a very good job of this.’

  ‘Go on, Jess.’

  ‘I want to keep looking after Rose. I want to be able to do that after school and in the summer holidays. But truth is, I can’t keep going and …’

  The truth is I’m also afraid I’m going to lose her. That if her father gets his way, he’ll move to Blackpool and I’ll barely see her grow up. The truth is that if I think Anna being missing is killing me, try taking Rose away too. I will fold.

  ‘I know that she has some sort of policy … something through work. I’ll have a look through her paperwork but right now …’

  ‘Without a body.’ He finishes my sentence.

  ‘I have to make a home for Rose, Doug.’

  ‘How much do you need?’

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t know … but enough to get me through the next few months?’

  ‘Is your bank account still the same?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll transfer it later on, you should have it tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  He doesn’t say how much and I don’t ask.

  ‘And try to find that paperwork. Let’s just see what’s what?’

  ‘I will. Thank you.’

  ‘Let me know you get the money okay.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Take care, Jess.’

  ‘You too.’

  I hang up the phone and see that a steaming coffee with a biscuit on the side has been placed on the table nearest me. One of the mums, I recognize her but can’t quite place her, salutes me. I give her a little wave of thanks and sit down.

  Doug rescuing me … How life loves to throw up these little ironies. I allow myself a smile. When he walked away, I floundered for a while, had no idea how to plot a course through life without him. When, within months, he took up with Carol, something in me changed. If she was what he wanted; if my love was so strong it strangled him; if Anna wasn’t enough reason to stay – well, I was better off without him. And until today I have never needed him since. I have never needed anyone since. I sip my coffee and the woman – I remember her now: Kelly – approaches. My heartbeat races. I don’t want to talk about Anna. I will my phone to ring, something.

  ‘Jess,’ she stands a few feet away, ‘I won’t disturb you.’

  ‘No, sit down, please.’ I hear myself speak and have a cartoon bubble in my head saying, ‘No, don’t sit down. Thanks for the coffee but go away, I want to be alone.’

  She sits. Her hands play with one another on her lap. ‘I’m never quite sure what to say. I see you often at the school. Sam junior goes.’

  I hadn’t realized. Sam, the choirmaster from Anna’s college, a man whom Anna and the whole of the sixth-form choir adored, has a son at my school. Looking out at the screaming brood opposite, I think he must be in Rose’s class.

  ‘He’s in the year above Rose,’ she says. ‘Jack – Jack Villiers, the birthday boy – his family and ours are neighbours.’

  ‘Thank you for the coffee,’ I say.

  ‘No problem.’

  Silence.

  ‘Is there any news?’

  Bubble speak for, ‘Have they found Anna’s body?’

  I shake my head.

  This is the point, the same one that happens always, where people feel awkward and I feel the need to fill the space with meaningless words. Somehow, I can’t today. She stands. ‘We miss her at choir.’ She reaches forward and squeezes my hand. ‘We all miss her,’ she says. I squeeze a smile and swallow more coffee, forcing the lump in my throat south. She smiles back. It is a kind smile, one I’m grateful for, but today I can’t engage any more than I have. I’m pretty much running on empty.

  My nose sniffs the air outside and I peer up to the low-lying, vivid sun as I wait for Rose to strap herself in. The unrelenting rain of the last week has stopped, replaced by a weirdly unseasonal warm spell. It is as if the rain has washed the whole area clean and now the sun has arrived to help it dry. I’ve taken my coat off and am just strapping myself in when Rose points excitedly out the window. ‘Look, Nanny! It’s Finn!’

  I automatically turn around and, sure enough, it is Finn. He’s at the door of the play centre with a group of kids that I recognize from the other Year Six. I can’t tell if they’re on their way in or out. By the time I’m ready to drive off, they’ve disappeared. ‘Where’d they go?’ I ask Rose.

  ‘Back there,’ she pointed behind the building.

  I wonder quickly if I should call Theo and decide against it. Finn is a good boy. I don’t want him in any more trouble. They’re kids. What’s the worst they can get up to hanging around a play centre?

  I’m just pulling out of the car park when Rose starts.

  ‘Can I watch Frozen, Nanny?’ Rose sing-songs her question nonstop from the back of the car. ‘Nanny! Frozen!’ She is in one of her demanding moods. Too much sugar, I scold myself.

  We have a ten-minute drive home so I tell her she can, and within seconds she’s turned on the portable DVD player. She’s quiet, sucking her thumb while Disney’s Princess Elsa is singing to her sister Ana about the cold ‘never bothering her anyway’.

  And my own Anna crowds my brain. My own frozen Anna …

  Rose is finally asleep and I’m sitting on
the tatty sofa, a mug of tea in one hand and Anna’s phone in the other. I can’t open it – no code I know will work.

  I put it by my side and stare at my garden, convince myself that Anna’s okay. And some day, very soon, she’s going to let me know she’s okay. She’ll tell me where she is. And why she’s there. And if she’s coming back or not.

  I pick up my own phone, send a text to her.

  Come home, darling. Let me know where you are? I miss you. I miss you so much I could cry. Except I can’t. Help me, Anna, please?

  Her phone pings and I read just the first words from ‘Mama’ to her on screen. I feel the familiar ache in my jaw; open and close it to try and make it go away. I’m learning all of the time that the human body has countless surprising places it can store grief.

  14. Anna

  Raw Honey Blogspot 26/10/2014

  I couldn’t help myself. That’s the plain and honest truth. Falling in love with Him was never part of my plan. I’ve always had an imprint on my brain of what my wedding day would look like; how me and Mama would share a bottle of champagne with my BF bridesmaid and how Dad would hover nervously downstairs, just before I descended in my lacy, ivory gown. DD would be holding Dad’s hand, dressed in her mini-me outfit. Mama and DD and I would have had a team of hairdressers pulling on our insane hair, desperately teasing it into traditional wedding looks.

  We’d climb into a couple of vintage cars and make our way to the church. Yes. I’ve always wanted a church wedding with all the trimmings. And at the top of the aisle would be a man who loved me totally, completely. I would fill his world.

  This is how it would have been. I suppose it’s how it still could be if I could walk away from Him for good. But I used to get dizzy walking away. I’d get dizzy questioning it. I’d pull up articles on the web about falling in love and whether or not we can help who we fall in love with. Whether it’s destiny or design? Chemistry or choice?

  We can’t stop. We’ve tried. This last time we were apart for over three years – forty-two months, to be exact. Yet the moment we got back together this month, it was like we’d never been away.

  I love Him. He loves me. And people make sacrifices for love …

  So, I choose to go through life trying hard not to resent his other life. Trying hard to convince myself that somehow, somewhere, over some bloody rainbow, there’ll be a happy ending for us.

  And that, folks, is how I have to roll.

  Comment: Anonymous

  I have only just stumbled on this blog and am horrified. What makes you think people want to read about your sordid affair with a married man? You claim to ‘love’ him. Grow up. Looks like you and your mother, a woman you say is only interested in casual lovers, are definitely related. Twisted morals, both of you. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

  Reply: Honey-girl

  Why don’t you and your judgemental attitude just piss off? You don’t have to read my blog, and to know anything about my mother, or details of my ‘sordid affair’, you must have read other posts too. I’ve blocked you so I don’t have to read any more of your disapproving shit.

  Comment: Solarbomb

  Does the married man you’re seeing have any children?

  Reply: Honey-girl

  I’d rather not say on here.

  15. Theo

  Once, Theo had saved a man’s life. He had probably, in starting treatment for lots of patients, saved many lives, but in a ‘dramatic, had-stopped-breathing way’, he had saved one man’s life. There was no reason that pumping life back into Aaron Hughes’s heart should be the image that came to him at the meat counter in the supermarket, but that was exactly what he thought of and, for a moment or two, it rendered him speechless.

  ‘What can I get you?’ A slim, balding man peered at him over reading glasses.

  ‘I’m …’ He had pumped life into a heart. ‘I’m cooking dinner for friends. Haven’t a clue.’

  Slim Man stared, his silence meaning an array of rude questions like, ‘Do I look like a chef?’

  Theo smiled, because he did, he did look like a chef. ‘Sorry, just some lamb cutlets. Can you do that thing …?’

  ‘French trim?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Ten, please.’ Three each and a spare, or four each for him and Eddie and two for Jules. She ate like a bird.

  He decided there and then to keep it really simple. Lamb cutlets, buttery mash, carrots and French beans followed by a ready-made meringue-like pudding from the freezer.

  Heading home, he was quite pleased with himself. Tonight would be the first night he had the house to himself since his son had been born. In almost twelve years, even when Harriet travelled for work, naturally Finn was there. He checked his watch. She was due to pick him up in an hour and Bea was due to leave for a weekend away with her boyfriend, Nick, in forty minutes.

  The worktop was full of food when Bea and Nick appeared. Theo had no idea how to behave around Nick. Bea was twenty-three, an adult, could go out with whomever she pleased. Then again, Bea was only twenty-three; her parents were in another country and part of him felt he should be trying to fill some ‘in loco parentis’ role. In the end, there amongst the bags of food, he took her aside, explained his confusion and asked her where they were going for the weekend. She had laughed, told him he was sweet, that her parents wouldn’t ‘give a she-et’ who she went out with, but gave him the address anyway.

  He was sure as he peeled carrots that she and Nick were laughing all the way to Stratford. When the doorbell rang, he flinched. He had wondered beforehand if she would ring, or if she would use her key. It was still her house too. Legally, she could come and go. He wiped his hands on a tea towel, threw it over his shoulder and went to the front door.

  She looked great. Her makeup was perfect; her long dark hair pulled up into a tight plait which fell down the centre of her back. She was dressed in a navy trouser suit, her typical work attire. The jacket was open; the shirt, a pale pink silk, was unbuttoned at the top to show just enough cleavage. His heartbeat quickened. ‘Come in,’ he said. In the hallway, he kissed her cheek. ‘You look good.’

  ‘Thank you. You cooking?’ She was staring at the tea towel.

  Theo nodded. ‘Jules and Eddie are coming over. Do you want to go up? He’s been in his bedroom a while. Wouldn’t let me help him pack a bag, so God knows what digital paraphernalia he’s taking with him.’

  ‘I’ll go up. Is that okay?’ She bit her bottom lip.

  ‘Of course. You want a drink, tea, coffee?’ He knew not to offer alcohol. She never drank when she was driving.

  ‘No,’ she called back. ‘Thanks but we’ll get going. The traffic to London will be a bitch. Friday night and all that.’

  Theo nodded as he walked back to his carrots. He couldn’t help but think how extremely civilized the whole scene was. Two well-adjusted adults with their terribly agreeable split, neither of them mentioning the phone call two nights ago. Within five minutes, Harriet and Finn were both standing in the kitchen, Finn’s rucksack slung over his shoulder, an expression nearing pain on his face.

  ‘Can I talk to you a moment, Dad?’

  Theo glanced at Harriet and back at Finn. ‘Of course.’

  ‘In here?’ Finn pushed open the door to the den.

  Theo wiped his hands on his tea cloth, which he dropped on the work counter, and followed their son. As he passed, he raised his eyebrows at Harriet, who took a seat at the kitchen table.

  ‘I really don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go, Dad.’ Finn tried to stop his bottom lip trembling.

  Theo held his breath. Jess and her view of love being a thing that should only be served up unconditionally, and only ever for children, popped into his mind just as his love for his son threatened to stop him doing what he knew was the right thing for everyone. He wanted to reach out and envelop the boy. He wanted to hold him, whisper that if he didn’t want to go, he didn’t have to. But Harriet
was never coming back. And somehow, everyone had to try to move on.

  ‘It’s hard, I know. Look, your mum’s come all the way down from London. She’s looking forward to seeing you. I’ll make you a deal. If you really want to come home tomorrow – call me and I’ll come and get you. Just give it a chance.’

  Finn looked at the floor, held back tears.

  ‘Please, Finn?’

  Within a few seconds, eyes still downcast, he seemed to pull himself together. ‘You’ll come and get me if I want to come back?’

  ‘Absolutely. Any time. Just try it, please. We all have to find a way to get on with this. I’m sorry. God knows your mother is sorry too, but this is how it is.’

  Finn nodded slowly and Theo reached for him, pulled him to him with an arm around his neck. ‘Text me, call me, whenever.’

  His son pulled away, opened the door. ‘Okay then,’ he said, his voice resigned to the new state of family affairs. In the kitchen he grabbed a carrot from the pile Theo had peeled.

  ‘You all right, love?’ Harriet asked cautiously.

  ‘Fine. Let’s go,’ Finn said.

  ‘Right.’ She rubbed her palms on her jacket. ‘How many have you got coming?’ Harriet eyed the pile of vegetables.

  ‘Just two, three including me. I’ve done too many, haven’t I?’

  ‘They’ll keep. Wrap them in a polythene bag. First drawer to the left of the oven.’

  ‘As you’re here, do you think you could show me how to cut them in that way you do them?’

  Harriet grinned, took the paring knife from Theo’s hand and picked up a carrot. ‘You watching?’

  He and Finn both nodded. Harriet cut the carrot on a slant and turned it over and cut it on the opposite slant. ‘Easy,’ she said, ‘crazy peaked carrots.’ She grabbed hold of the towel on Theo’s shoulder and wiped her hands again. ‘We’d better move, love,’ she said.

  ‘Right.’ Finn jerked his head towards his father. ‘See you.’

  ‘Come here.’ Theo took hold of Finn and wrapped him in a bear hug as Harriet stood by watching.