Something You Should Know

by Melissa Hill

  ‘I’m interested,’ Leonie said determinedly, not needing to think about it for a single second longer. This place was perfect, and luckily for her she was the very first person to see it. It could be fate, or just blind luck but either way, it certainly felt like finally something was going right. ‘When can I move in?’

  ***

  Later that day she phoned Grace with an update on her living situation.

  Upon first arriving in the city, Leonie had contacted her friend to let her know where she was and unsurprisingly, Grace was dumbfounded to learn that she’d gone to the States.

  ‘You’re really going through with this then?’ she gasped, crest-fallen.

  ‘What made you think I wouldn’t? Grace, this wasn’t just some mad notion on my part, you know.’

  ‘OK, maybe I can appreciate your wanting to escape for a while, but why so far? Why not just move down to Cork or somewhere, at least then I could still see you now and again, whereas I can barely pick San Francisco out on a map!’

  She sounded hurt and Leonie felt a fresh pang of guilt. Clearly Grace was still feeling shunned and upset that she’d left Dublin so suddenly and without saying a proper goodbye. But at the time, Leonie didn’t have the courage to face her. Grace would almost certainly have tried to talk her out of it when what she needed to do was get as far away as possible.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It is hard not having you around to talk to, but at the same time I had to do this.’

  ‘I know, but moving away from Ireland completely… well, it’s just so extreme, Leonie. Running away from things never helps in the long run you know.’

  Leonie felt a lump in her throat. ‘Maybe, but at the moment, it’s the only way I know how to deal with this.’

  ‘But surely it’s better to be home in Dublin with us, the people who love and care about you instead of all alone in some big city where nobody gives a damn?’

  ‘It’s not like that, people are nice here,’ she replied, thinking of the helpful real estate guy who’d today found her the perfect apartment, and Carla the Holiday Inn receptionist with whom Leonie had struck up a friendship of sorts over the last couple of weeks. ‘Everyone’s been really friendly.’

  Since her arrival three weeks before, she’d felt very much at ease in San Francisco. The gorgeous blue skies and bright Californian sunshine had an immediate lifting effect on her mood, and although it was as busy and bustling as any other city, the place had a relaxed bohemian vibe about it too. So yes, of course she sometimes felt lonely and missed everything and everyone she’d left behind, but that was partly the point wasn’t it?

  That afternoon, she’d signed the lease on the one-bed Victorian conversion and would be moving in at the end of the month.

  ‘So how long are you thinking of staying?’ Grace asked.

  ‘Well, the lease on the apartment is for six months with a renewal option after that so I don’t know, for as long as it takes, I suppose.’

  ‘Six months?’ Grace shrieked. ‘So you’re really giving up your whole life here?’

  ‘Did you think I’d just stay here for a few weeks and then turn tail and come back? What would be the point of that?’

  ‘I know I couldn’t just drop everything and abandon my whole life just like that. Now, don’t get me wrong,’ she added quickly, ‘I know there’s a good reason but …look, it all seems so … sudden.’ When Leonie said nothing, she went on. ‘It’s just, you’re usually so calm and together about things; I guess I just didn’t expect you to react like this.’

  ‘Calm and together about other people’s problems, maybe,’ Leonie said wryly. But when it came to her own life she’d always been a total disaster, hadn’t she? And yes, coming here might have been impulsive, but at the same time, it felt right.

  ‘Well OK, so now you’ve found a place to live, great – at least I’ll know where you are for the next sixth months. But what are you going to do now? You can’t just hide away on your own in some apartment.’

  ‘Well I suppose now that I have a base, I’m going to start looking for a new job.’

  Right before she left Dublin, Leonie had resigned from her job at Xanadu Event Management and turned down her boss’s kind offer of keeping a position open for when she returned, simply because she wasn’t sure that she ever would be returning.

  And although she had a nice bit of savings to keep her going for a while, Leonie knew that if she really wanted to start afresh and settle in to the city properly, she needed to find work.

  ‘I just can’t get my head around this,’ Grace said mournfully and Leonie could almost picture her friend shaking her blonde head in disbelief as she sat in her kitchen back home in Dublin surrounded by the toddlers’ things. ‘And America of all places… ’

  ‘Well, it is home too, in a way, isn’t it?’ Leonie replied, referring to the fact that she had in fact been born in the US, although her Irish parents had moved back to Dublin soon after. Following their separation some time ago, they’d moved on yet again; her father now lived in Hong Kong and her mum in South Africa with a new partner. She could have gone to her mum’s of course, but she didn’t want to be a burden, and more importantly she knew that in order to get through this, she needed to be on her own for a while.

  ‘Look…’ Grace said quietly, after a long pause, ‘I suppose I might as well tell you, I bumped into Adam the other day,’ and Leonie’s heart almost stopped. ‘He doesn’t know you’ve moved away.’

  She felt faint. ‘You didn’t …?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t,’ Grace replied quickly. ‘I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I? I’m not saying I agree with it, but a promise is a promise – even it had to be made over the phone from across the Atlantic,’ she added archly.

  Leonie tried to digest what her friend had said but didn’t really know why she felt so surprised that Grace had seen or spoken to Adam; Dublin wasn’t that big a city after all, was it?

  ‘So don’t you want to know what we talked about, or what he said?’ Grace prompted when Leonie stayed silent.

  ‘No I don’t actually,’ she said, swallowing hard. ‘I’d rather not talk about him at all to be honest.’

  ‘Well he looked absolutely terrible, and for what it’s worth, I think he’s really sorry that –’

  ‘Grace please,’ Leonie interjected hoarsely. ‘I just don’t want to know, OK?’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry but you’re my best friend, and I’m really worried about you! Look, I know what happened was awful, but isn’t there any chance you two could try and work things out? Forgive and forget, maybe?’

  Leonie closed her eyes. ‘I really don’t think so, Grace,’ she replied determinedly, knowing in her heart that some things just couldn’t be forgiven.

  Chapter 3

  Two weeks later, Leonie got the keys to the apartment and moved out of the Holiday Inn into what would be her brand new home – for the next six months at least.

  She’d told Grace the truth when she’d said she didn’t know how long she’d be staying away; all she knew was that it was what she’d always done when faced with any major decisions in her life.

  OK, so her job required her to be cool, calm and decisive and she was usually pretty good at applying these same traits to other people’s problems, but for some reason, she could never manage to call upon them when it came to her own.

  In her teenage years, when all her classmates were worrying about exams and college places, Leonie decided to avoid the stress by taking a year out to go backpacking around Asia and Australia. While Grace and her other school friends had been horrified (albeit more than a little envious too), Leonie’s parents had been fully supportive. In fact, the only major decision she’d given real consideration was agreeing to marry Adam – and clearly, she should have thought even harder about that, she mused now as she dragged her backpack up the steps to the front door of the house.

  Entering her apartment, she was struck once again by the large angled bay window that dominate
d the living room and flooded it with light and sunshine, and she guessed she’d while away many a day and evening sitting on the window seat and drinking in those amazing views across the bay. It was the perfect spot for curling up with a good book, which Leonie suspected she’d be doing quite a lot of.

  And while it was tempting to ‘hide away’ (as Grace put it) in a place so cosy and lovely, she knew there was no point. She’d end up dwelling even more on what had happened back home.

  No, Leonie decided immediately, there would be no moping about here; she’d done enough of that already, hadn’t she? Instead, she’d take a few days to settle in and then make it her business to explore the area properly. The city was so compact you could see a lot of it on foot, and if walking the hills got too difficult she could always hop on one of the cable cars (although they looked very scary going up and down those humongous hills on a single wire – what if it snapped?). It was lovely that her street was only a few blocks from Fisherman’s Wharf; there was always plenty of activity down there what with tourist-thronged Pier 39 and the lively markets and street performers. It was hard not knowing anyone, but hopefully this would only be for a while and if she was seriously stuck for someone to talk to, she could always go down and chat to the sea lions!

  But first things first Leonie decided, wrinkling her nose; this place needed a good spring clean. The previous occupant hadn’t exactly left it in a pristine state. A sheen of dust lay on the living room coffee table and over the mantelpiece, and the adjoining kitchen (although it was more of a kitchenette really) looked decidedly grubby.

  She dumped her backpack in the bedroom, deciding to head straight back out to pick up some supplies. There was a mini-mart at the end of the street so she should be able to get enough cleaning paraphernalia there to keep her occupied for the afternoon at least. And while she was at it, she might as well stock up on a few essentials like milk and sugar. She’d do a full shop at one of the bigger supermarkets soon, but the place wouldn’t really be home until she’d enjoyed a cuppa. An excited thrill ran along her spine as the reality of making her first cup of tea in her own little place in a city thousands of miles away struck her.

  Despite the problems that had led to her being here in the first place, she was already starting to feel much more positive. And if she had anything to do with it, she thought, putting her hands on her hips as she surveyed her new surroundings, Green Street would soon start to feel like home.

  Having scrubbed the living room and the somewhat neglected kitchen, she eventually made her way to the bedroom, which to her relief didn’t look like it needed a whole lot of work, apart from vacuuming the carpets and cleaning out the wardrobes – or closets as they called them here, she remembered with a smile.

  Standing on a kitchen chair to give her enough height, Leonie set about dusting inside the wardrobe. It was a very old, practically antique piece made from dark redwood, and could very well be about the same age as the house itself, she thought, remembering that she’d read somewhere how a lot of Victorian houses had been constructed with the then easily available (and more importantly fire-resistant) native timber.

  She reached inside and swept a duster along the shelf, intending to give it no more than a quick going over for the sake of it. Then she frowned, as her hand connected with something. She peered into the darkness and saw what looked to be a small wooden storage box hidden deep in the back. Great, she groaned inwardly, the last tenants had obviously left her a nice housewarming present of their unwanted rubbish! Sighing, Leonie dragged the box across the shelf and lifted it out of the wardrobe, intending to place it on the floor and out of her way.

  But the box was much heavier than expected, and as she went to pick it up, Leonie suddenly lost her balance on the chair, and both she and the box went tumbling to the ground.

  ‘Ah, look what you made me do!’ she wailed rubbing the small of her back, which had taken the brunt of the fall. The little gold catch on the box had fallen open and its contents, a collection of envelopes loosely wrapped in cellophane, were strewn all over the floor.

  So much for cleaning the place up, she grunted, deciding that it had to be a sign that she’d done enough for one afternoon. Not to mention a very good excuse for a cuppa…

  Standing up, Leonie roughly gathered together the contents of the box. As she did she realised that strangely, the envelopes were still sealed and unopened. She picked one up for closer examination. It was a letter all right, addressed to someone who must have previously lived at this address.

  Helena Abbott.

  In fact, each and every one was unopened and addressed to the same person.

  Weird.

  The box in her arms, Leonie went back out to the kitchen and switched on the kettle. While waiting for it to boil, she sat by the bay window and further examined the envelopes one by one, her curiosity piqued. The handwriting on each envelope was identical, she realised, noting the same rather elegant cursive script appeared on every one. Such beautiful handwriting too, almost like calligraphy.

  Why hadn’t the letters been opened? Assuming this Helena Abbott, whoever she was, had previously lived here and had intentionally stored the letters away in the box (and a very nice ornate one at that), then why hadn’t she bothered to open them? Or taken them with her when she moved out? Had she just forgotten about them hidden away in the back of the wardrobe or…?

  The kettle boiled, and Leonie shook her head, telling herself that it was none of her business either way. Putting the letters aside, she went into the kitchen, took out a mug and went about making a fresh cup of tea.

  But typically, her curiosity, (or downright nosiness as Grace would call it) managed to get the better of her, and mug in hand, she returned to the windowsill and set the box on her lap and the tea alongside her.

  Lifting the lid, she again took the envelopes out of the cellophane and turned them over one by one. There seemed to be no return address on any of them so it was impossible to tell where they might have originated. Then she peered closely at the postmark, trying to see if this might yield anything, but it looked to be nothing more than an official-looking but pretty generic ink mark.

  Oh well, she thought, putting them back in the box, she’d give the rental agency a call, see if they had a forwarding address.

  Although, something told Leonie that Helena Abbot might not miss them either way.

  ‘No, I’m afraid there isn’t a forwarding address on file,’ the man from the rental agency told her, when Leonie called a few days later. She had since cleaned the apartment from top to bottom and found nothing else belonging to previous tenants other than the box.

  ‘Oh. It’s just, I’ve got a pile of post –’

  ‘Post?’

  ‘Sorry, I mean…mail,’ she corrected quickly, realising that he wouldn’t have a bull’s notion of what she was on about. ‘She left it behind when she moved out, and it could be important.’

  ‘I’m sorry but we’ve got nothing at all on file. In fact, we don’t have a record of the name you mentioned as a customer of this office.’

  Leonie frowned. ‘What? But she only moved out a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Perhaps so, but she wasn’t a client of ours. The landlord obviously used another agency for previous lettings,’ he explained.

  ‘Well, maybe the landlord might have her address then. Could I have his number?’

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t give out that kind of information,’ the man sighed.

  ‘What?’ Leonie cried frustrated. ‘So, what I am supposed to do about the letters? Surely there must be some way of contacting the landlord? I mean, what if something goes wrong with the apartment, if it burns down or something?’

  ‘Ma’am the agency here are responsible for all aspects of the rental, but if you’d like to leave your name and number I can contact our client and pass on a message for him to call you?’ He was sounding a little irritated now.

  ‘OK then,’ Leonie sighed. She supposed that would hav
e to do. Chances were the landlord wouldn’t give a fiddler’s about some previous tenant’s belongings but if nothing else at least she’d tried.

  That much done, she started to prepare lunch, and thought about the next thing she needed to do; see about getting a job. She’d spent the last few days settling into the apartment and getting to know the neighbourhood a little better. The day after she moved in, she’d taken a cable car down to Union Square (which was seriously scary) where she’d spent a few hours picking up the various household paraphernalia she needed to kit the place out completely.

  In terms of decorating it, there was a gorgeous little art gallery nearby, where she’d managed to pick up some funky pieces of wall art for an absolute song, and which went a long way towards brightening up the living room, as did the pretty handmade candles from the craft shop a block away. San Francisco was famous for its bohemian culture and hippy New Age roots, but she’d been taken aback by the proliference of small, independently run stores and eateries in the area, as opposed to the ubiquitous chain stores she’d expected. That personal touch added to the lovely sense of community she’d felt in the neighbourhood right from the off, and many of the cheery café and deli owners were only too happy to chat and give her lots of helpful information on her surroundings.

  In fact, the locals had been so friendly and open that they’d given Leonie the courage she needed to think about searching for a job. While she’d enjoyed spending her first few days in the apartment setting up home and alternating between watching (mesmerizingly addictive) American TV, or reading by the window seat while gazing out at the sailboats on the bay, she was now starting to feel a bit restless.