Poppyland

by Raffaella Barker

  ‘I think I’ve got to go,’ I answer before I have thought anything through, it is just a reflex of self-protection. But as protection it is useless.

  ‘Oh.’

  Ryder and Mac look at me amazed. Ryder’s expression is concerned. I backtrack as fast as I can. ‘I mean, yes, but I think I’ve got to go,’ I mumble. What am I talking about? Of course I haven’t got to go. Ryder begins stacking chairs, pacing about. He coughs and I can tell he is trying to sound casual.

  ‘Well, if you leave it until tomorrow, I can take you.’

  ‘Er, I’m not sure. I’m . . .’ I am midway through refusing when Mac puts his arm around me and draws me towards the kitchen.

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ he says. And I am grateful. He is right. I can’t believe I was about to throw all this afternoon with Ryder away because I feel scared. Ryder stops pacing and comes and sits at the table. Mac passes him a chopping board and some muddy vegetables.

  ‘OK, we’re cooking for Lucy and Grace tonight. What’s it to be?’ says Mac. Ryder has a look of panic on his face as he confronts an aubergine.

  ‘Er . . . Not sure. Grace, I bet you can cook. What works for an aubergine?’ He is smiling, looking at me. He holds out his hand, he squeezes mine, and with a rush of surprise I realise he is not angry, and he is not trying to duck out from anything. I smile a grateful apology and squeeze his hand back and, raising an eyebrow at the aubergine, I say, ‘Well, we can do a lot with it, shall I help?’

  ‘Definitely. I can do breakfast, and steak, but living vegetables are different.’

  Mac pours wine into glasses and takes two to the door. ‘I’m going to give Luce a hand with bath time,’ he says.

  ‘That’s fine, we can do this,’ I tell him. Gratefully, Ryder moves along and passes me half his vegetables.

  ‘I’m all yours,’ he says, ‘show me what to do.’

  Mac has left a pan hissing with frying garlic and onion. ‘Stir it and add this.’

  I pass him the sliced aubergine. His hand rests on my waist as I slide the slices into the pan and stay close to him. He looks sad.

  ‘Is it difficult for you seeing Mac with Lucy?’ I wonder as soon as I have said it if it is intrusive, but he rubs his forehead and meets my gaze.

  ‘No, it’s not that. Not at all, it’s lovely seeing them together, they are a bloody good advertisement for couples. I’m tired, though, and I didn’t like the thought that you might go.’

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t.’

  He leans over and kisses the hollow of my neck. ‘Yeah, so will the others be. Dinner is going to be a lot nicer with your input than if it was left to me. What shall we do with the beans?’

  I slice them with a huge smile because I feel so happy in the kitchen with him. I think I could feel happy anywhere with him.

  ‘Tell me your favourite sport?’

  ‘Boxing,’ he says promptly. ‘Oh, and pool of course. Yours?’

  I giggle. ‘No one usually cares about girls and sport. I like yoga, if it’s a sport to do, or cricket, if I am in England in the summer.’

  He puts down his knife and twirls me into his arms, kissing me in a ham dramatic way.

  ‘Perfect girl. You like cricket,’ he says, then begins chopping again.

  In mock alarm I nudge him. ‘What’s all that about?’

  ‘You’ll see as you get to know me that you have touched something very dear to my heart,’ he says solemnly then winks and passes me my glass.

  ‘A bath-time toast to Mac and Lucy for bringing us here to cook,’ he says, and we raise our glasses towards the ceiling, above which a herd of small elephants seems to be charging back and forth squealing with laughter.

  ‘To Mac and Lucy,’ I agree.

  The next day Ryder drives me to London. To his boat. It is sad leaving Mac and Lucy, and I am nervous as I hug my sister goodbye. She holds me tightly and whispers, ‘Just have a nice time, Grace, that’s all you need to do.’

  Ryder opens the car door for me and passes me an earring as I get in. ‘You left it in the bathroom,’ he says.

  ‘Thank you.’ I am very touched that he noticed. We drive away from Winterton with Ryder beeping the horn and the windows open to wave. Ryder drives calmly, and without a map.

  ‘How do you know where we’re going?’ I ask after a while, when we have turned at yet another tiny crossroads with no signposts.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, really. I came this way yesterday a bit, and I know which direction London is in, roughly.’ He breaks off to pass me a bottle of water. ‘Here, sorry it’s not cold. Yeah, anyway, don’t worry, we’re not lost yet.’

  On the motorway, he drives fast, but I feel safe. He reaches over and puts a hand on my thigh. I am watching his profile, enjoying his ability to focus. A lazy sexy saxophone plays on the car music system and I drift into sleep. When I wake up, we are almost there.

  ‘I can’t believe I was asleep all that time.’ I shiver, rubbing my eyes. We are at traffic lights somewhere on the edge of London. He touches my cheek.

  ‘You’re lovely, Grace,’ he says. I look sideways at him grinning, dazed and still sleepy.

  He winks at me, laughter escapes between us and I stretch and yawn. ‘Mmm, this is so nice.’

  He looks pleased. ‘I agree. And now we’re nearly there.’

  Before we get out of the car, he turns to me. ‘Grace, if you can stay on with me for a bit, I could take you out, or keep you in. Whatever.’

  My heart pounds with excitement. I was dreading leaving and now I don’t have to just yet. On a deep breath I try to speak and give up and just nod my head.

  He kisses me hard and murmurs, ‘I think you need to go back to bed, jet lag is getting the better of you.’

  ‘Sounds perfect,’ I follow him away from the traffic. Ryder’s boat is tucked down by a bridge on the canal in a part of London I have never been to before. It is like another world, stepping down off the pavement and on to the towpath where the boats lie waiting, like trains in a station. The geraniums on the boat next to Ryder’s catch my eye as we cross the small bridge and enter. He opens the door and the space inside is bigger than I expected. A sofa covered in a Mexican rug and a table made from a slab of walnut fill the main room. Ryder takes my bag through another door and puts it on the bed. I have another rush of panic at the thought of staying here with him, and then I remember he must be nervous too, and I flop on to the sofa and make myself be calm.

  ‘Why do you live on a boat?’

  ‘Because it can be anywhere, and I didn’t really want to live in London so this seemed a good way to pretend I’m not.’

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Although the space is small there are photographs and pictures and odd objects everywhere. A yellow boxer’s punch bag hangs in a corner above a teetering pile of books. Squinting at them I realise they are all the same, or, rather, different editions of Wisden Cricketers’ Almanack. In another corner a pale blue bicycle frame hangs on the wall, its tyres spooled over the handle bars, and on the floor by the sofa are two skin-covered drums.

  Ryder sits next to me, then he puts his arm around me and whispers in my ear, ‘Shall I make you a cup of tea, or shall I take all your clothes off and make love to you?’

  ‘Both,’ I whisper back, pulling him closer. We draw the curtains around the little port holes and stay in bed. It’s Sunday, and there isn’t any reason not to. In fact, we need to do it.

  Ryder is lying on top of me, brushing my hair from my face. ‘We have five years to catch up on, Grace,’ he says, ‘so please stay here with me for a while.’

  I love the way he is able to say what I need to hear, I love his steadiness and his passion and his gentleness. When I try to tell him he puts his finger on my lips. ‘We found each other, everything else can come later.’ I thought I would be nervous, but every moment I am with him deepens my sense that I have always known him and there is nothing to fear. Later, we walk west along the canal as the sun sets, and the water is so still that the houses and ware
house buildings are reflected as if in a mirror. A plane curves through the sky and Ryder puts his arm round me.

  ‘I’ll come and see you in New York soon, but I’m hoping I can persuade you to come back here.’

  ‘To live?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I feel as though he has lifted the blanket I have been hiding under all my life and he is seeing me as I am, and he still wants me. It is uncomfortable, like taking off your sunglasses to look at a beautiful day. And of course I want him too.

  ‘I think I will, but it might take a while.’

  ‘We’ve got a while,’ he says. We turn off the canal and walk back through the evening. Summer is breaking through in London and outside pubs and bars people are gathered on the street. Everything has a dreamlike quality, but the happiness is less ephemeral, and it is still there when I wake up in the morning and look at Ryder asleep beside me. We spend three days together, doing the sort of things I have always wanted to do with any boyfriend and never have. We go to the zoo. It’s a hot day and we walk back along the canal past the hyenas at the edge of Regents Park.

  ‘They are incredibly cheerful-looking for hyenas,’ Ryder comments, taking my arm and walking around me so he is on the canal side of me as we saunter along the narrow towpath.

  ‘Well, what should they look like?’

  ‘I dunno. I just imagined them to be gloomy. Like vultures.’

  ‘Stoopid!’ I poke him in the ribs. ‘They’re famous for laughing, of course they’re cheerful.’ We explode giggling and loll on a bench while a red-lacquered boat glides past full of tourists. The next evening we drive down to the river to walk along it in the dark. Ryder holds my hand and we lean over the Millennium Bridge and he talks about his family.

  ‘I’d like to take you to see Mum and Dad. They will love you.’

  ‘Will they?’ I don’t mean it to sound as disbelieving as it comes out.

  Ryder hugs me, and I can hear his smile. I don’t have to look at him to feel it warming me.

  ‘I mean, they will love the fact that I have met you,’ he says. ‘They took so long to live again after Bonnie died, and now they finally want to.’

  ‘Tell me about Bonnie.’

  ‘Well, it’s not easy, sweetheart.’ He pauses, trying to assemble all the love and memories to tell me something. ‘It’s hard to explain someone I love to someone I love without sounding over the top.’

  ‘I don’t mind if you’re over the top, darling.’ The Thames rushes beneath us, spangled with light reflections like stars, and, on both sides of the dark banks, glitter and sparkle sprays out like jets of water from the buildings. The air is warm, and all sound carries through the night; rushing cars, the occasional wail of a siren and the murmur of voices from people passing us. We walk on from the centre of the bridge towards the South Bank. Ryder puts his arm around my shoulders and we walk side by side.

  ‘She was any guy’s dream sister. She was such a good friend of mine, too. I told her everything, and it was mutual. She had lots of friends and though she was only nineteen when she died, she really filled her life up.’

  ‘You must miss her every day.’ I cannot think what it would be like not to have Lucy in my life, and sad compassion for Ryder smarts behind my eyes.

  ‘I don’t know. I think I do, but it’s the way life is,’ he says.

  ‘I understand a little.’ I squeeze myself closer to him. ‘Our dad died a while ago and then our mum, so I understand loss. But maybe not the kind of love you’re describing.’

  We are at the Tate, and it is late-night opening. I lead him in. ‘I want to show you my favourite paintings.’

  ‘Wow, I can’t believe it’s open at night and you know about it even though you live in New York, and I don’t.’

  The Rothko Room is empty. My heart pounds as if it will burst. Ryder is silent.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ I whisper.

  He shakes his head. ‘These are amazing.’

  ‘They were painted for the Four Seasons hotel in New York, but he felt they were too gloomy so he gave them to the Tate.’

  I lie down on the big leather banquette. Ryder sits next to me. ‘They are intense,’ he says finally.

  On Tuesday night, anxious because I leave tomorrow, I begin to panic at the thought of saying goodbye, making plans to meet soon, missing him, trying to make dates to meet. And what has felt like the most natural existence, hand in hand with Ryder, doing everything with him, is suddenly remorselessly finite. And a continuation seems impossible, there is so much distance between us in our lives.

  I take a deep breath and speak into the silence that has been growing around us.

  ‘I want to be with you more than anything in the world, and I love you, but I don’t think I can do it right now.’

  Ryder is lying next to me, almost asleep. He sits up, staring at me.

  ‘What are you talking about? I love you. We are together now. You’re just going home for a while, that’s why you’re nervous.’

  I can’t look at him, I hide my head. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I mean I’m too scared. I don’t think I’m ready to be with you. It’s not you, I love you, it’s just me.’ It feels as if a cliff has crumbled away inside me leaving nothing. I just need to get back to New York to think straight.

  At the airport Ryder kisses me and I cling to him. I am numb in my body, but tears keep falling from my eyes. I don’t know what has happened, I can see happiness so near, but it is as if it’s through glass. Maybe I am testing him, I don’t know. Maybe I am testing myself. Ryder takes me to the security section. He cannot come through any further. He hugs me again, and I never want to let go of him.

  ‘It will be all right, you know,’ he says.

  I watch him walk away, and he turns to look at me three times, and I stand there like a stupid statue until he vanishes among the crowds. I cannot believe what I have done. Except that it is what I always do. In the departure lounge I find a seat and call Lucy. She is horrified.

  ‘But I thought you were staying with Ryder in London. I thought you weren’t going back for a bit. Oh Grace, why?’ She sounded so disappointed you would think it was her life I was sabotaging.

  ‘I can’t. I need to go back. I need to work.’ I can’t explain to her that I just need more time. But I try.

  The loudspeaker starts calling my flight. I launch in, my fingers in the other ear so I can hear my sister. ‘Oh Luce, I don’t know. Maybe I need a bit more time.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You need to get a life and stop hiding behind your work.’ I have never heard my sister shoot back at me with such a steely tone to her voice. ‘You will never not be afraid. We all are. You just have to take the risk, Grace. It won’t kill you.’

  ‘But when I panic I feel it will kill me.’

  ‘Well, go ahead and ruin your life then.’ Lucy is furious. I garner my spirits to argue, to answer back, to insist I am right, but the fight has all gone out of me. My eyes flood with tears again, I can’t see the numbers on the gates.

  ‘I know, I think I already have,’ I say, ‘but I don’t know how not to.’

  ‘Did something happen that worried you? You seemed to be really into one another when you left here.’ Lucy’s anger has abated, one of the children is in the background, then both of them.

  ‘Oh nothing. We were having a really nice time, but I couldn’t deal with it, so I said I was going.’

  ‘You couldn’t deal with having a nice time? Well, who do you think you are anyway?’ Lucy breaks off to talk to the children, then comes back.

  ‘What did Ryder say?’

  ‘He said if it was meant to be, we would find one another again. He’s only just gone, he came to the airport with me. It was awful.’

  ‘Oh Grace.’ Lucy sighs. ‘He’s right, you know. If it is meant to be, it will sort itself out. Love finds a way.’

  I begin to cry quietly again. Not quietly enough, though.

  ‘Grace?’

  ‘Yes?’


  ‘You should get on your plane, go home, pack up your life and then call Ryder and get him to come and get you. Please don’t end it like this, you will regret it for ever. You are such a stubborn ass sometimes.’

  ‘Bye, Luce.’ I turn off my phone for the flight.

  Chapter 16

  Grace

  August

  Back in New York I am lovelorn. I am a real bore to myself and my friends. The only good thing is I am working a lot, manically painting my frustration and gloom on to canvas. Ryder called me as soon as I got back.

  ‘I will come and find you, Grace, but you have to want to be found,’ he said.

  Now, two or three months have passed and we still speak quite often, but with no plans to meet. At home I function like a robot. Breakfast is something I do standing at the fridge. Eating would make what I am doing sound like a sensory experience, which it is not. I seem to have left my tastebuds in Europe, and food tastes of nothing, it is just a series of feeling different wet or dry substances in my mouth. As I force down some yoghurt and blueberries, I think I have got stuck in terror. Most of me just misses Ryder and wants to go back to London and marry him and have babies for which I am sure I am ready, or just as ready as anyone ever is. But some stubborn and crazed part of me is clinging to fear and I don’t know how to stop it. Lonely, frightened or whatever, I am grateful when Stephan and Ike ask me out to supper. Stephan works in the gallery on the Upper East Side where my next show is happening, and he needs photographs of the work.