The Day I lost You

by Fionnuala Kearney

  ‘Don’t you want to know?’ he asks. ‘You set this whole thing in motion. Don’t you want to know who her father is?’

  And I reply as honestly as I can. ‘You’re her father. I see that now.’

  One email. One memory of a child in school telling me he sent me an email. One decision to look at it before I forget, just one click on the website link he sent me. That is all it takes. That is all it takes to flip my world on its side again; to make everything that was pulling itself into some new shape I could live with, now look like a big black hole again.

  I’m back in Anna’s bed, buried under her duvet, scrambling around for the scent of her. I get out, go to her dresser and take her perfume, spray it liberally all over the sheets and then climb back in again. I have Nouska, her teddy, with me. He smells of the real her. I nuzzle my nose into his fur. I have the ragged copy of her favourite book that I found in the bottom of one of her drawers. Memories of the sound of her chuckle at a tiger coming to tea cloud my bitter brain.

  My iPad, after three hours of reading her blog, has been discarded, fallen on the floor, and I don’t care. All I care about is the blog post I’ve just read dated 15 March 2011, the day before my father’s stroke. He saw her. He saw her with Him. All thoughts of being able to put this man out of my head have vanished. Only hours ago I thought that life could be eased by an outdoor Christmas tree. Now, I know that my father’s and even my mother’s subsequent lives were mapped out the moment he saw Anna with someone she shouldn’t have been with. My brain whirrs into overdrive.

  ‘Anna,’ I whisper under the bedclothes. All I can do is offer her shadowy bedroom my whispered question. ‘Anna, what did you do …?’

  40. Anna

  Raw Honey Blogspot 02/11/2014

  We were on an ‘away day’ this week, one of those group events that’s supposed to promote the idea of team in the workplace.

  It was the most bloody awful, tedious, waste-of-time fucking day. I had to crawl through an obstacle course in the pissing rain and take part in this ‘allow yourself to fall backwards’ into the arms of a colleague thing (in the hope they’ll catch you). I didn’t do that bit – just couldn’t. J, my boss, and M, my friend, thought it was too hilarious; went on about it right through lunch, on and on about me and my obvious trust issues. M hit a nerve when he told me over my manky lettuce salad that I expect people to let me down.

  Since then my head hurts; wondering who in my life might have let me down, have made me distrustful, so that I couldn’t let go, just cross my arms and fall back … And truth is, I don’t think there is anyone. If I’m supposed to be damaged by Dad leaving, I’m really not. We have a good relationship and he’s always been there for me. Mama, never. She’s never let me down. No girlfriend has ever made me feel that way. I have always felt loved, so why would it be that I can’t trust – that I’d expect a colleague to let me fall? Is it because they’re a ‘stranger’? Not in my intimate circle of family and friends?

  And why have I taken up with Him again. Why??? Are the two things related?

  Answers below please …

  Comment: Deardigger

  I think you’re torn. I think if you’re not careful, you’re going to have a life of two halves. The first where you were very obviously loved and supported. The next, where for some reason, you’ve shunned that love in favour of a man who can never put you first. Because that’s the gist of it, Honey-girl. No matter how much you love each other, he has a wife (and possibly children) already. You have willingly pitched yourself against that. And you seem to be someone that isn’t going to like either outcome. If he stays with his wife, you’ll always be second best. If he leaves his wife, you’ll feel guilty. Neither outcome is good, so maybe, just maybe, you’ve cornered yourself into a life where it’s you and your judgement that you don’t trust?

  Reply: Honey-girl

  Food for thought …

  Comment: Deardigger

  One other thing, Honey-girl. I’m not really sure if it’s just for the purposes of this blog, but it always strikes me as a little bit odd that you refer to your lover as He/Him, almost deifying him?

  Reply: Honey-girl

  And yet more food for thought …

  41. Theo

  If it’s a Christmas tree she wants, then a Christmas tree she shall have, thought Theo as he roamed the lines of fledgling Nordmann firs in the specialist nursery. Thanks to covering some evening shifts for Marsha and being on call over the weekend, Theo had a rare day off. He had no idea why Jess wanted the tree. She had been rambling and seemed upset when she rang him at six thirty a.m. and he had tried not to resent the call on the only morning he didn’t have to rise at six thirty. Other than her need to travel up and down to the Lakes in one day, again, the only other thing he had gathered from the conversation was the fact that she needed a Christmas tree in March.

  He stopped, looked at the one next to him, tugged on the label that said it would grow to twelve feet. He pointed the five-foot specimen out to the guy with a spade and within ten minutes it had been potted and brought to the till. It would grow, Theo told himself as he put it in the car. For now, it was a Christmas tree in March, one more than he thought he’d get.

  He caught her coming out of the house, walking to her car.

  ‘Wait!’ he shouted.

  She turned around, the expression on her face a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

  ‘I’m in a hurry, Theo.’

  ‘I have the day off,’ he said, nearing her, running a hand through his hair. ‘Why don’t you let me drive? We’ll get there quicker.’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of driving quickly,’ she said, opening her door.

  ‘You’re upset. I could tell on the phone earlier. Let me take you, it’ll be a long day.’

  She looked at the ground, seemed to be thinking about it.

  ‘Who’s picking Rose up later?’ Theo asked.

  ‘Gus and the teenage witch.’ Jess raised her head, stared at Theo’s car blocking her route out. ‘Right,’ she clicked hers shut with the remote. ‘If you’re not getting out of my way, let’s go. You drive. And we need to get a shimmy on.’

  In his car, she sniffed the air and looked behind her to where the seats had been folded down. ‘Theo, you have a Christmas tree in the back.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I do.’ He opened the boot and pulled the tree out, placed the pot outside her front door before climbing back into the driver’s seat.

  ‘You got me a Christmas tree.’ She smiled, looking at it and reaching across to touch him.

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You got me a Christmas tree,’ she repeated softly. ‘Thank you … That pine scent, it reminds me of the day of the fair, the day—’

  ‘No.’ Theo shook his head vigorously. ‘This tree smells of Christmas future, not Christmas past.’

  She laughed, squeezed his arm. ‘My very own Marley for the next few hours. Drive? And don’t spare the horses …’

  They didn’t stop for coffee. There was no stopping at all. She was quiet the whole way up, staring into the distance, but silence was never something that scared them. It was only for the last few miles when she gave him instructions on where to go that she seemed to come to life.

  ‘Are you going to tell me why this is so urgent,’ he asked as he approached her parents’ house.

  She shook her head.

  He pulled into the driveway and parked behind her mother’s Micra.

  ‘Shall I wait here?’ Theo kept his hands on the steering wheel.

  ‘Of course not, come in.’

  Before he had locked the car, she was standing on the deck at the front door. It was thin planks of weathered wood, about six feet deep, and it spanned the whole width of the house. His eyes rested on an old worn bench sitting under a wide window next to them.

  ‘That’s the snogging seat.’ Jess smiled as she rang the bell. ‘That would have a few stories if it could talk.’

  Theo looked around the front garden; pr
ivate, hidden from the road by tall conifers and pines. He knew, from hearing Jess talk about it, that from the rear the house backed onto the lake. What an idyllic place to grow up, he thought, just as Jess’s mother opened the door.

  ‘Darling, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you call?’ Her hand went to her head, automatically patting stray hair back into the pinned bun she wore. ‘What a lovely surprise.’ She was dressed in navy trousers, a pale blue shirt and a navy cardigan, buttons open.

  Jess kissed her cheek, moved past her into the hallway.

  ‘Theo,’ her mother greeted him. ‘Come in. It’s been a long time. To what—’

  ‘Mum,’ Jess focused on her mother. ‘We’re just here for a quick trip. I have to get back to Rose but I need to speak to Dad. Is he upstairs?’

  ‘He’s sitting in the back, he’s feeling much better now, finished the antibiotics. I—’

  She stopped talking, looked from Jess to Theo and back again. ‘What’s going on, Jess?’

  Theo wished he knew, could only offer a tiny shrug. Jess wrapped both arms around herself. ‘I need to talk to Dad, to you, I …’ She looked at Theo as if she was wondering for the first time if he should be there at all.

  Theo, sensing this, put both his hands on her shoulders. ‘Jess, you go ahead, I’ll—’ He looked around him and jerked his eyes towards a door off the hallway. ‘I’ll wait in there?’ He directed the question at her mother who nodded, opening it up to a large sitting room.

  ‘No, Theo,’ Jess began, ‘you drove all the way, just—’

  He hugged her to his chest, whispered in her ear. ‘I’ll be all right here. Go say whatever it is you need to say to your dad and I’ll be here if you need me.’

  In the front room Theo was seated by Barbara, offered a cup of coffee, before she hurried off wringing her hands. As soon as she left, he stood from the black leather chair that he supposed, from the remote control, was Jess’s father’s. He almost tip-toed to the set of double doors opposite him and strained to listen. It wasn’t hard. The doors had a gap between them that if he peered through he could see a slim glimpse to the rear room; to what looked like a stretched window; Jess hunched on the floor next to a chair that he could only see the back of. Her hand reached in to whomever was seated in the winged chair. Barbara stood watching, her own hand resting on the high back.

  ‘You have to tell me, Dad, please. I know you know.’ Jess.

  A muffled sound. Her father.

  ‘I don’t understand, Jess. If your dad knew anything about this, he’d have told me. Wouldn’t you, darling? This is ridiculous. What in God’s name, how in God’s name …’ Barbara.

  ‘Mum! Please? Please just let me speak to Dad.’ Jess.

  Theo watched as Jess seemed to lay her head against the lap of the seated man. He could no longer hear her words. There was a hushed exchange, the sound of tears he knew to be Jess’s. Barbara stood back from the chair, and he stood back from the door, suddenly embarrassed by his voyeurism. Minutes later, he was seated, his hands skimming through an old edition of Country Life, when Barbara poked her head around the door to the hall.

  ‘I’m sorry, Theo, I said I’d get you a drink. Was it tea or coffee, black or white?’

  He shook his head. ‘Barbara, please, don’t worry. I don’t need anything.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ she said, sniffing into a tissue. ‘I insist.’

  ‘Coffee.’ He smiled. ‘I’d love a black coffee but first, would you mind pointing the way to the cloakroom? I didn’t want to go wandering …’

  ‘Of course, back down the hallway here, the first door after the stairs. Coffee will be just a minute.’

  In the cloakroom, Theo was surrounded by pictures of Jess and Leah growing up. It was easy to tell they had a loving and privileged childhood. Typical shots of girls on ponies; sibling images with one or other of them sticking their tongue out. One was blown up, showing Leah at about twelve with long, sleek hair, and Jess, maybe fifteen, with her wild curls framing a winking face. A picture of Anna caught his eye. It too was a larger image. She was sitting near glass doors that overlooked a lake – probably the rear room that he hadn’t yet seen properly. In profile, the image caught her perfectly, in full contemplation, as she overlooked the water. A toddler, Rose, sat on her knee, her profile a mini-replica.

  Theo washed his hands and made his way to the front room again. He stood at the window overlooking the enclosed garden, looked at the bench and wondered if Jess had met anyone important in her life there. Had it been where she first kissed Doug? Theo realized that the house, though Jess hadn’t lived there in a very long time, held parts of her that were unknown to him.

  Barbara entered carrying a tray with two cups and a cafetiere and he immediately took it from her. ‘Is it okay here on the coffee table?’ he asked. Barbara nodded, closing the door gently behind her, and Theo wondered if she’d been crying.

  ‘Is everything all right back there?’ He spoke gently as Jess’s mother took a seat opposite him.

  She shrugged, buttoned up her cardigan and placed her hands in her lap.

  ‘Do you need to be there?’ He looked to the doors.

  ‘No. It’s fine. Now, have a coffee, do you mind being mummy?’

  Theo was confused a moment, then realised what she had meant and poured two black coffees. Handing her one, she shivered and clutched the china mug with both hands, warming them.

  He balanced himself on the front of the black chair.

  ‘So,’ Barbara said. ‘You and Jess …’

  He smiled.

  ‘Are you together? Or something?’ she asked.

  ‘I’d say we’re possibly “or something”,’ he replied.

  Barbara nodded, as if it was the answer she had expected. ‘That’s a shame. She needs someone.’ She nodded again, looked towards the double doors behind which Jess and her father remained. ‘She needs someone like you in her life. You’d be good for her. Maybe good for each other …’

  ‘I’d love it to be more.’ Without realising it, he had emphasised the word ‘more’ making Jess’s mother return her gaze to him. ‘I’m just not sure she’s ready,’ he said.

  ‘Jess is never ready to think of herself.’ Barbara shook her head. ‘She’s always been the same, but now is exactly the time when she should. Think of herself, I mean.’

  Theo raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, I think I want to keep trying to persuade her.’

  Barbara smiled and when she did Theo saw Jess in her eyes. He was just about to remark on it when the double doors opened and Jess appeared in the centre. Shards of sunlight appeared over her shoulder, landing on the floor next to where Theo was seated.

  ‘Theo.’ Jess held out a hand. ‘Come and say hi to Dad. You haven’t seen the view of the lake from back here, have you? It’s amazing.’

  With a mug of coffee in one hand he stretched his other one towards her. She squeezed it, ushered him past her, where he waited a moment, glancing back over his shoulder.

  ‘Mum?’ Jess moved towards Barbara, put an arm around her and together they joined him. ‘So, what have you two been chatting about?’ she asked.

  He tried not to look at her, avoided her reddened eyes, streaming nose, a cluster of tissues in her free hand. ‘Nothing much,’ he said.

  ‘He’s fibbing,’ Barbara said heading over to her husband. She bent over him, smiled and adjusted the blanket covering his legs. ‘He was just telling me how fond of you he is.’

  Theo blushed.

  ‘I see.’ Jess attempted a smile and knelt beside her father. ‘Dad, remember Theo?’

  Jess’s father was indeed seated in the winged chair he had glimpsed through the gap in the doors. Her father’s eyes moved from Jess’s face to his and he held his good hand up to shake Theo’s. ‘Hello,’ he whispered, giving him a nod of acknowledgement before seeking Jess’s eyes again. And Theo spotted it, a blink, a something, a moment – an understanding – passed between them like an electric current.

  ‘Righ
t,’ Barbara said, walking through a door that seemed to lead to the kitchen. ‘You’ll need a sandwich or something before you get back on the road.’

  Jess smiled and rolled her eyes at her father.

  And Theo realized that neither he nor Barbara were privy to the meaning of either moment that had just passed between the pair.

  She didn’t speak in the car until Watford Gap services. Theo, prepared to give her the silent space she needed, was lost in his own thoughts. From what he could gather some shit was about to hit some fan somewhere and not knowing what to say, he was happy to wait for her to speak first. Instead, he occasionally squeezed her knee or held her hand.

  ‘What time do you think we’ll get back?’ She finally spoke, turning from her stance of staring out of the window and glancing at the dashboard clock.

  ‘Depends if you let me stop to eat. Your mum’s sandwich was lovely but it’s all I’ve eaten today and my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Of course, let’s stop up ahead. Do you mind if we grab something and eat in the car?’

  It wasn’t what Theo had in mind, but he nodded. ‘What’s going on, Jess?’

  She stared out of her window. ‘I can’t, Theo. I need to process it first.’

  ‘Something’s happened.’

  She hesitated then laughed, a tinny, nervous laugh, which led to her coughing. ‘Anna died, Theo. That’s what happened. Since then I don’t recognize my life.’

  He indicated left to pull off the motorway and brought the car to a stop. ‘I want to help.’ He reached across and felt her brow. ‘And that cold of yours is lingering. You—’

  ‘You are helping.’ She kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘You are helping and I’m grateful. Ham and cheese okay?’ She pulled away and got out of the car without waiting for a reply.

  Theo watched her as she walked towards the sliding doors. Dressed in her staple of a pair of dark jeans, Converses and a jumper, even today, with her worry lines in place, she looked a lot younger than her forty-eight years. He blinked slowly – he was being selfish, he knew. Since being inside her, everything had shifted for him. It was seismic and he wasn’t at all sure what to do with it. He didn’t want it to stop before it had started. He didn’t want Anna to spoil it from the grave. He closed his eyes and prayed to her. Please, please just let me love her. Help me love her.