“You coming to the party?” said Poppy in Daisy’s ear.
“No If I did I’d end up staying there until about three, and I have to be up early in the morning for a meeting with an online vendor for our merchandise.”
“So you getting the bus home?” said Poppy.
“Got a lift, haven’t I,” said Daisy smiling. She grabbed Aiden’s arm and he turned to her, a look of mild shock on his face.
“Aiden has to get an early night so he’s all bright and ready in the morning for another battle with the numbers,” said Daisy. “He’s taking me home.”
On stage the songs came with smooth energy, and Conner, full of the sense of his own freedom, played and sang the set of his life. He even indulged in a little bit of crowd surfing. This wasn’t part of the script and left the other band members bemused and cycling through the chorus of one of their songs as they watched him tripping and staggering over the hands and heads of the crowd.
Halfway through the set he remembered his mobile, and, digging it out he screamed at the crowd:
“SAY CHEEEEEESE!”
A thousand voices rose in a cacophony of noise, and arms waved. The people at the front tried to climb on top of each other to be at the forefront of Conner’s picture gallery.
Later, when he sent the pictures through to Poppy, she saw a sea of faces full of intense joy, celebration, and passion. She looked at the images and knew that Conner was on the journey back to wholeness, and the climb up two mountains, and the cold and the sore feet had all been so worth it.
* * *
After an encore that had the whole house shouting themselves hoarse, Daisy and Aiden said their goodbyes and headed for the exit while Alex and Poppy dug out their stage passes.
The evening was cool, noticeably so after the muggy heat of the concert hall.
“So, did you enjoy that?” said Daisy, still buzzing from the atmosphere.
“Yeah, it was great,” replied Aiden.
“You don’t sound very sure.”
She took his arm; it was something she did when she walked anywhere alone with a man she knew. She felt him tense slightly at her touch.
“Sorry, do you want me to let you go?”
“No, please don’t.” She felt him tighten his grip on her arm. “It’s just that nobody has held my arm for a long time.”
“Well you enjoy it, mate!” she said. She had decided that Aiden was okay really, once you got past his spreadsheet façade.
They walked across the road to the multi-storey car park and found the graffiti-covered entrance. In the rank darkness of the stairwell Daisy tightened her grip, and she had to almost run to keep up with him as he mounted the flights of steps to the level where he had parked earlier.
They were a few feet away from Aiden’s Audi when Daisy heard the “pop” of the remote locking. It was a reassuring sound, Daisy liked being driven anywhere by a man she trusted; and Aiden was just that, a little boring maybe, but safe, and that was all she needed at the moment.
She sat in the front passenger seat and settled down. The car had the scent of calmness and order about it, and the engine breathed into life when Aiden pressed the ignition. A collection of numbers, in cool blue light, appeared across the dashboard.
“This is a posh car,” she said. “I thought we were all short of money.”
“I had an investment that matured last year,” he said, “and I’ve always wanted an Audi.”
“It’s nice,” she said, feeling herself relax in the seat.
They were both silent as the car eased away and some silky jazz emerged from the sound system.
“You okay with jazz?” he said.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” she replied.
“If you want to put something else on, you can you know.”
“It’s cool,” said Daisy, “leave it.”
Daisy wasn’t feeling very lively, and some calm jazz and the smooth interior of Aiden’s car suited her mood.
Aiden was definitely the quiet type, so she didn’t expect there to be much talk on the journey home. She looked out of the window and watched the streetlights sail past. Light flicks of rain began falling, smearing on the glass and distorting the images around her. Strangely, it was when she felt this secure, this relaxed, that she became aware of the growing unease deep within her.
In recent months she had gained the self-awareness to be honest, and so she had begun to examine the web of motives, desires and resentments that had governed her life. There was a lot there that she did not like. Not least the occasional flare of jealousy, aimed at Poppy and her flourishing relationship with Conner. It was stupid really, because Daisy didn’t want him like that, but jealously wasn’t a rational emotion, and if she thought about it for more than five seconds, she knew Poppy was good for Conner, and she, Daisy, wanted to work with Poppy, they created wonderful garments, and she knew it.
But there was something deeper inside her as well. She thought back to the presentation she’d given, to the cigarette she’d smoked beforehand, the nerves, and the sense that she was different from them, this Christian club, these nice people she really loved. Sometimes the one she felt the most affinity with was Alex’s friend Lewis.
And now here she was with the safe accountant, a man she trusted but felt distanced from, excluded.
This guy isn’t going to be any more than a convenient ride home, she thought, Mr ‘Dull and Dependable’.
She wasn’t very proud of her feelings; she owed Aiden, especially after he had been the one to argue the case for her trip to Paris.
“You’re quiet tonight, Daisy,” he said, breaking in on her thoughts.
“Yeah,” she replied, dreamily, “what else you got in your juke box?”
She tapped the sound system.
“Take your pick,” he said.
She flicked through the titles and found some Norah Jones.
“Can I put this on please?” she asked.
“Sure.”
Soft evening songs filled the car, and Daisy felt her eyes closing. Maybe this wasn’t a bad place to be. She looked across at Aiden, to see if there was anything at all about him that she could find attractive.
“Where do you come from then, Aiden?” she asked.
“Where do I come from?” he said, laughing. “North London.”
“No,” she said, “I mean you sound Irish.”
“The answer is still North London,” he said. “But it’s okay, I know what you mean. My parents are from Shannon originally,” he said. “Moved here, had my sister and I, moved back when we left home. I did my degree in Accountancy and then ended up working for one of the banks in London.”
“So, is that when you moved into the area where Alex lives?”
Aiden was silent, and she looked over at him again. He was thinking, wrestling with something. She knew he was deciding whether to tell her something, to let her in, and immediately she craved his secret. She wanted him to tell her what it was that pained him so, she wanted someone to let her in.
“Tell me,” she said, turning to him, “if you want to.”
Eventually he spoke:
“I didn’t move there straight away.”
And he said no more, and she was quiet, her arms folded, waiting for him to say something more.
Aiden stared out at the road ahead, and let out a sigh.
“The thing is, Daisy,” he said, “I didn’t move to Alex’s area straight from college. I lived, we lived, somewhere else first.”
“We lived?” Daisy perked up,. “You were living with someone?”
“I was married. I married a girl I met while I was at university.”
“Wow,” said Daisy,” I thought you were just an accountant.”
She scolded herself for saying something that stupid, but he actually laughed, out loud, like it was some kind of release.
“Sorry,” she said, “I mean, I didn’t mean that.” She shook her head. “I meant I thought you had always been single.”
> He smiled at her apology.
“You thought I had always been single? Well I haven’t done anything to dispel that idea, have I? It suits me, you know, for people to think that I am too much of a number cruncher to be going out and meeting people and having a life.”
“I didn’t know,” said Daisy. She was itching to find out what had happened to this woman that Aiden had married. Her mind buzzed with the possibilities, maybe one of them had a steamy affair and the whole thing had fallen apart.
“There’s a lot of things that people don’t know about me, Daisy,” said Aiden. “Perhaps it’s time I told somebody about them.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” said Daisy, hoping that he would.
“Well,” he said, preparing himself, “why shouldn’t I tell you? I mean, I’ve spent most of the firm’s cash on you, I might as well give you some of my treasure as well.”
“When I started my second year at college,” he said, “I met a girl called Catherine. Everyone knew her as Cath. Anyway, to cut a long story short, Cath and I fell in love and at the end of that year we got engaged.”
Aiden stopped his story; they had arrived at Daisy’s flat.
“Maybe I can tell you some more another time, if you still want to hear about it.”
“Are you serious?” exclaimed Daisy. “You can’t stop now! Okay, look. If you need to go then go and cuddle a spreadsheet then fine, but if you don’t have to then come in and have a coffee and talk to me.” She got out of his car and stood with the door open, staring at him.
“Okay, Daisy.”
Daisy had found a smart one-bedroom studio to rent near to the SUMMER offices. It was small but she could do what she liked here, and at least she now had a sofa and couple of chairs for visitors to sit on. She ushered him in.
She had turned the main living space into a work area. Her old circular table had survived the move from student digs and sat at one end of the lounge. It was, as usual, covered with drawings, pencils, pastels, design books, a beer bottle and some coffee cups, and a few samples she had brought back from Première Vision. A few of the designs were now stuck to one of the walls, creating a collage of half coloured pictures.
Most of the sofa was covered with paper of some sort: books, magazines, drawings and sketches. It was about as far away from Aiden’s idea of a working environment as possible; and he was horrified and fascinated in equal measure.
She had made some coffee, and in her enthusiasm to hear more of his story she had rushed it, thrown too much coffee in, and the resulting brew was so strong it made his eyes blink. He had to ask for some sugar. She returned and sat next to him on the sofa.
“Tell me about it, Aiden, I want to hear all of it from the beginning,” she said.
He looked at her, and she felt as if he were weighing her up, deciding how much to say.
“Tell me what happened,” she said.
He put the spoon down, and stared into the black liquid.
“Cath died a year after we were married,” he said. “We found out she had pancreatic cancer.”
“My God, that’s terrible,” said Daisy, who knew nothing about cancer except that some people died from it. Without thinking she placed her hand on his. He did not try to remove it.
“I don’t really tell people this story,” he continued. “I mean Alex knows, but it’s not something I talk about.”
“It must have been devastating,” she said.
“Well, there was a lot of pain and hospital appointments,” he said. “I don’t talk about it now, partly because it’s too painful and partly because people sometimes don’t know what to say. And I just want to be ordinary; I don’t want people to feel sorry for me. I just want to get on with life.”
“But you’re still very sad, aren’t you?” she said.
He looked at her, and nodded and sipped his coffee, and Daisy could see that she had brought him to the edge of tears.
She looked away, around her room, finding interest in anything else, giving him a moment.
“Cath was the most wonderful person,” he said. “She had a vision, just like Alex does. She had a dream to go and serve the poorest and most desperate people. I don’t know what drove her like that; it was simply what she wanted to do. When she left school, she had a year out and spent some of that time in Uganda, working with orphans in a place called Jinja. She wanted to go back there after she graduated.” He grimaced as he sipped the thick coffee.
“She studied medical microbiology and wanted to use some of her skills. In our third year we began making plans for our wedding. Anyway, it was about then that Cath started to develop some problems; and when she went to the doctor, they referred her to an Oncology specialist, who told her she had the cancer.”
Daisy had a sudden feeling of being out of her depth. She had wanted someone to let her in, and yet now that they had, she realized what a responsibility it was. She was more used to everyone holding in their rubbish, keeping it sealed tight, and just talking about the fluff. Usually if anyone ever did let it go, it was her, she’d been the one who poured out her heart, but now she was the listener.
“Anyway,” he continued, “that wasn’t all. Cath also tested HIV positive.”
They both sat still for a moment, and a car murmured past outside, and the boiler in Daisy’s apartment powered down to stand-by. They had not noticed the noise until it stopped, enveloping them in an intense silence where the usually unnoticed sounds could be heard. Pipes gurgled, water and air in metal, radiators ticked lightly as pressures eased and temperatures cooled. Somewhere outside, far away, a motorbike whined distant and angry, its potency fading as the sound drifted away from them.
“They checked her for that when she discovered the cancer,” said Aiden. “She hadn’t had unprotected sex; in fact she had never had sex at the time.” He paused. “The only conclusion we could come to was that she had become infected during her year out, working with some of the AIDS orphans in Uganda. I thought she would be bitter about it, I certainly was. I was angry with God and angry with whoever had given her this thing. It broke something in me, but we loved each other and we got on with it. And then she died and I was angry with God again, and I still am, but I get on with it. Sometimes when I wake at night all I want to do is scream, but I never do. I never scream and I never cry. Ever.”
“What do you do?” asked Daisy.
“I look at figures, spreadsheets. I do my job.”
Daisy watched him closely. “So you don’t really love all the numbers and budgets for themselves? I mean I thought you lived for all that.”
He laughed. “I like what I do, but I don’t live for it, Daisy. And have you tried sleeping with numbers? Have you tried having dinner with numbers, and telling them your dreams, your feelings?”
She stared at him as his voice rose.
“Can you argue and then make up with numbers? Can you make love with numbers? Do they bleed when you cut them and cry when you hurt them?”
“No,” she said.
“It’s my job,” he said, “to look at numbers, and they are important, but they’re not everything.”
“Well that’s a relief to hear you say it,” said Daisy.
“Let me ask you a question,” he said, “have you ever wondered why I argued for you to be given a chance with this project of yours? I mean now, not at some point in the future.” He waved at all of the drawings around the wall.
“I don’t know, maybe you thought it was a good idea?” she said, sensing the indignation rise within her; she didn’t want him to see her as some kind of charity case.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Daisy,” he said apologetically, “I think what you have done is fantastic, and that’s the point really. Everyone needs the opportunity to take their chance, before it’s too late.”
She nodded.
“When Cath found out that she was going to die,” he said, “it took away the other dream, perhaps the most important dream she ever had.
She had always wanted to have children; she wanted to be a mother. But with the cancer, that dream slipped out of reach for her, and for both of us. She even thought she would lose me as well. Not that she ever would have.”
“You wouldn’t have left her,” said Daisy.
“No, I wouldn’t, and I didn’t.”
“You’re a brave man,” said Daisy.
He shook his head. “I’m not sure I am. Some people thought I was brave, after she died, but I wasn’t. I nearly did leave her. God knows, I was that close. And then when she died I gave in to the despair, time and time again. I didn’t feel brave. I felt angry and broken. I withdrew into myself and just worked, and worked, and that’s all I did, all I’ve done since then. It’s the people around me who are brave, the ones who want to fulfil their dreams, and take a risk, and make a difference: Alex, Conner and you. Cath had some dreams, but she wasn’t able to fulfil all of them. I want other people to have that chance. I want that for Alex, and I want that for you.”
Daisy sipped her coffee, then sipped it again.
“Is it too strong?” he said.
“I’m going to put some hot water in this,” said Daisy.
“Make some more,” said Aiden, “make it the way the rest of he world makes coffee, I don’t think I know what I’m doing.”
She returned with a fresh cafetière and two mugs.
“I thought,” she said, “at one time you and Alex would get together.”
“Alex and I, yes,” he stopped and paused, “I love Alex; and it took me a long time to work out that the love I felt for her wasn’t like the love I’d felt for Cath. In the end she’s like a sister, a friend; some people are dear to us, but just not in that way.” He put his hand on his heart.
“Yeah, that’s true,” said Daisy. She thought about Conner, and then she thought about Bill, and the differences in her feelings for the two of them.
I’m going to be honest now, Daisy,” he said. “With this Paris thing, it really was quite speculative, you know. A real wacky idea and there was quite a big part of my head telling me that it was stupid to spend the company’s money on it.” He watched her for a reaction, but she kept still and watched him.
Cain's Redemption Page 21
