by Rosa Temple
‘You’re staying in bed. I’m cancelling the naming ceremony. It was over-the-top anyway. No one does that sort of thing.’
‘Who cares about vot other people do? You’re Magenta Bright and you love to celebrate. You’ve got the local press, radio and a chance of regional news filming the event. You promised them Anya Stankovic, you promised discounts on pre-orders of the baby-changing bags to early shoppers, so I have to be there to endorse the brand. I’m not going to let you down, Madge.’
‘Look, are you sure about this?’
Anya nodded and continued along the corridor.
‘Well, don’t come for the Friday evening do,’ I insisted. ‘You don’t have to be there for that. Just put your feet up and stay in bed.’
‘Forget it, girlfriend. I’ll stay in bed for everything else but I’m coming to the naming ceremony and I’ll pop in, even if it’s for a brief second, on Friday. How many times does my best friend open a shop on the King’s Road?’
‘The timing of all this sucks. And none of this is fair,’ I said, patting her tummy. ‘But if you start feeling poorly, if anything seems wrong, I’ll change my plans. You come first.’
Anya smiled and shook her head. I looked ahead at the corridor we’d found ourselves in and knew straight away we’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.
‘I think we should be going this way,’ I said, looking up and trying to read the signs above me.
As I did so I managed to walk slam bang into someone turning a corner.
‘Oh! I’m so…’
The person I had bumped into had tried to break the impact by putting out his hands for protection. His hands were now firmly around my upper arms, my hands were guarding my chest, the strap of my shoulder bag had slipped to the bend in my arm, and I was wide-eyed and opened-mouthed as I stared up into the shocked face of Hugo.
‘M… Magenta?’ He screwed up his brow. I saw straight away how gaunt he looked. There was a faint yellowness to his skin but that could have been a fading tan since being back from Brazil. He wore a brilliant white shirt under a cable-knit cardigan and his eyes looked tired. Slowly he released my arms and, as I pulled the strap of my bag up over my shoulder, I could tell he’d lost a lot of weight. Not only that but he’d cut his hair to almost a crewcut and shaved off the full beard he’d grown since I last saw him a few years back. There was still something youthful about him even though I could see strands of grey in among his closely trimmed hair.
‘Hugo, what on earth are you doing here?’
‘I’m just on my way out, actually. How about you?’ He nodded to me and looked at Anya’s bump.
‘Er, this is my friend, Anya. She had an appointment. I was with her.’
‘I see.’ He looked on edge. He wanted to get away from me, I could tell. He wasn’t at all happy to see me but he smiled in his broad way. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he was all right but his friend Stella had already told me he wasn’t and he was quite clearly unnerved by having bumped into me. He wasn’t acting like the Hugo I knew, and since it was clear we all wanted to head for the same place, the way out, the three of us made awkward movements in the direction Anya and I had just come from.
‘It’s a small world,’ I offered.
‘Very,’ Hugo replied.
I took a quick glance at Anya. Her big eyes were wide and stared directly ahead, unblinking. I hooked my arm through hers.
‘Look, Hugo, you were obviously in a hurry,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to hang back with us.’ I nodded along the corridor and slowed down even further to indicate for him to walk on.
‘I, er, yes. Thank you,’ he said. ‘I mean I do have to go. I’ve got to meet someone.’
‘I know,’ I said. Stupid.
‘What?’
‘I mean, I know you must have to do something. You were in a rush.’
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you.’
‘No, I should have been looking where I was going.’
‘No, I—’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Anya snapped at us, breaking free from me. ‘Just give her a hug and get going, Hugo. Madge, tell him it’s good to see him and then the pair of you go about your business.’
We smiled sheepishly at each other. Hugo stepped forward and gently touched my arm.
‘It’s wonderful to see you, Magenta. It really is but I should be going.’
‘That’s fine, Hugo. It was great seeing you too. All the best, okay?’
‘Yes… thanks.’ He ducked his head, hovering for the shortest of moments, then rushed off, leaving a familiar scent in his wake of fresh cologne along with a string of unspoken words I would never get to hear.
‘I hope you’re happy now,’ Anya snorted.
‘W… What do you mean?’ I said, still watching Hugo hurry along the corridor and turn a corner.
‘The man who has loved you for years and years shows up and you’re in a tracksuit, Madge.’
‘Oh, Anya,’ I said, playfully tapping her arm.
‘I thought he’d be better-looking somehow.’
‘Don’t be silly. He’s ill. I told you all about Stella.’
‘Oh yes, that.’
I linked her arm and we headed, once again, for the exit.
‘I wonder what’s actually wrong with Hugo,’ I said.
‘Isn’t it obvious, Madge?’ Anya slowed a little and tilted her head back in the direction we’d come from. ‘Back there is Oncology. Hugo has cancer.’
Chapter 11
With only days until the unveiling of the shop’s new name I have to say I was more than a bit distracted. I had given up on the idea that Anthony would miraculously finish his last painting and be home with me after almost two months of not seeing him. He was happy, he was working and, in his words, he was painting out of his skin for the first time in his life. I was happy for him. I knew he was getting very little sleep and had taken the last in his series of paintings back to basics because he just wasn’t happy to present the collection as it was.
‘You have to be a perfectionist when it comes to your own art,’ I’d said on the phone. Like I knew anything about it. It just seemed like the right thing to say. Anthony was pleased by my input and that’s when he broke the news to me that he’d probably be away for another fortnight or so. It was the ‘or so’ bit that made me wince. But I wasn’t about to have a fit.
The temperature in London had dropped significantly. After what had been a gloriously hot summer a cold snap had hit the city out of the blue as if we were having too much of a good thing. Autumn, like a shock to my system, felt wintry. I was wrapping up in sweaters and opting for coats, not jackets. The heating was on to almost full and I was not only distracted but verging on depression.
‘You have to snap out of this, Madge,’ Anya said before I’d even said hello to her when she called me one evening. I’d sat with slumped shoulders, eating a bowl of Special K while watching reality television. ‘And you can turn off Dance Moms right now.’
‘How did you—?’
‘Of course I know. You alvays take to that sofa and eat cereal in front of mindless television programmes ven you’re upset. But Magenta, promise me you’re not going to seek him out. You’ve got enough on your plate.’
‘I’m just so worried about him, Anya. When I thought Hugo was ill and back in London, I could keep it together. I just assumed he’d get better soon and I was convinced visiting him was only going to rake up the past. But now I know he has cancer. No wonder Stella came to see me. This has got to be serious. I mean, what if—?’
‘He doesn’t vont your sympathy, Madge. You said yourself he’d be angry his so-called friend blabbed about his health.’
‘She’s just concerned. If she really thought his seeing me would make all the difference, then maybe I should—’
‘I don’t think you should. I seriously think you’ll be doing the wrong thing by seeing him. Let him have his chemo or radiation treatment, regrow some hair if he loses it and get on
a plane back to the rain forest. He can take his so-called friend and her meddling too.’
‘Anya, don’t be hard on her. Or me. You know what I’m like.’
‘A big softie – yes, I know, but I really don’t think it’ll come to anything good if you go to him. In just a few days you’ve got media interviewing you for the shop-naming ceremony. You’re a headliner, Madge. You’ve got orders for your baby-changing bags coming out of your ears. You’ve got celebrities lining up to come to the opening. It’s the hottest ticket in town for fashionistas from near and far and you’re going to blow the whole thing if you turn up looking tired and wrinkly in last season’s Moschino.’
‘Who says I’m wearing Moschino?’
‘I figured you’d be playing it down for the press. Of course, I’m not going to. Ms McCartney has just delivered my dress for Friday. I’m sure she’s after a mention but I made it clear this is going to be about my best friend and her designer abilities. You really should start designing clothes in your own right, Madge.’
‘Stop trying to distract me from the subject of Hugo. I know you won’t approve. But I’m going to find him, Anya. In fact I have a fair idea where he might be. I just need to make a call.’
‘It’s a bad idea, Madge.’
‘I just need to tell him I’m rooting for him. That my thoughts are with him.’
‘And just leave it at that?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll leave, get my hair done, get a facial, manicure and get ready for the unveiling and the celebrity party on Friday.’
‘You’re sure now?’ Her accent was heavier, her voice grave and probing.
‘Yes, you’ve made me see sense. I can wish Hugo well from afar. That can of worms can stay closed. I need to move on from that. I’ve got a flagship shop to launch.’
We said our goodbyes but I went straight to my bedroom to find the torn-off piece of red paper on which Stella had scribbled her name. She’d made a big deal of giving it to me and then taking it back, deciding to observe Hugo’s wishes for her not to contact me. She’d left in a bit of a flurry and didn’t see that the piece of paper hadn’t made it deep enough into her bag but had worked its way back out with her hand and fluttered to the floor, only for me to pick it up and hang on to it for just this moment. A piece of paper with Stella’s number on it that wanted to stay with me. That in itself spoke volumes. I had to see Hugo.
I was nervous when I dialled her number. What if Hugo was sitting right next to her? She wouldn’t be able to give me his address. But my fingers were tapping the numbers before I could change my mind and she answered the phone after the first ring. She sounded flustered.
‘Who is this?’ she said instead of ‘Hello’. I assumed it was because my number wouldn’t have been known to her and she might have thought I wanted to sell something.
‘Stella, hi, it’s Magenta Bright.’
She didn’t speak for a beat or two. ‘How did you—?’
‘The day we met… the notepaper fell out of your bag. It’s easy to do. I’ve done it. Then torn my hair out trying to find whatever it was I thought I’d put away in a pocket or bag or something.’
She didn’t speak.
‘So I was thinking about your visit to the shop that day. It wasn’t a wasted journey and you were wrong when you said coming to see me was a bad idea.’
‘I… I’m not so sure about that. You know? Let sleeping dogs and everything.’
‘No, but what you said was right. Hugo would probably appreciate a visit from a friend.’
‘More than a friend.’
‘Quite. Well, I was just wondering if you could let me know where he’s staying.’
‘How come you want to be involved all of a sudden?’ I could hear water running and then a kettle beginning to boil in a room that made every sound echo, including Stella’s voice. I imagined the cup she’d taken out of the cupboard when I heard it make contact with a table.
‘I don’t want to be involved. Not if he doesn’t want me to be. I just wanted him to know that if he ever needed me for anything, I’d be there.’ Hugo obviously hadn’t said anything about bumping into me.
‘Magenta, I’m not so sure now.’ She’d walked into a room with no echo but with music playing in the background.
‘Please, Stella. I saw him. Hugo. He looks like he’s in a bad way and I’m pretty sure I know why. He was in the hospital. He was coming out of Oncology.’
Stella gasped on the other end of the line. When she spoke again it was with an effort to stop herself crying. The music cut out.
‘It was fate, then,’ she said finally. ‘You had to see him. Y… you should go. It’s what I thought all along.’
‘I don’t want to step on your toes. It’s only one visit. You’re in control of managing his welfare, Stella. I’m not trying to come between you.’
‘I know.’ There was a long pause before she spoke again. ‘Oxford Gardens. I think you know the place. This trip has been a journey into his past since we got here. He rented the garden flat. It’s Number 2, Flat A. Not the house he used to live in but he’s close to all the things he loved in that area. Not to mention the pub you met in.’ She sniffed and then cleared her throat.
‘And his telephone number?’ I ventured.
‘I can give it to you now if you’d like.’
‘If you would.’
She gave me a number I recognised very well when I saw it on the notepad next to the address I’d taken down. It hadn’t changed in all these years. Stella would have had no idea it was a number I’d called several times before.
‘I’m not living there with him,’ she went on. ‘In fact he’s more or less dismissed me from London but I’m staying close by, at a friend’s, despite what he says. Hugo can be stubborn. Thinks he can do this on his own.’
‘He always was a bit hard-headed. Never knew when to take no for an answer.’ I choked an awkward laugh but Stella didn’t respond. ‘Thanks, Stella.’
‘He’s going to kill me,’ she muttered.
‘No, he won’t. Trust me.’
The last thing I wanted was for Hugo to take it out on Stella when I showed up at his flat. She thought she was doing him a kindness, which was exactly what I wanted to do. I had to see him, there was no question, and it had to be soon. I had to see him, find out how he was going to manage his recovery and then leave. It would all be very simple and it was the very least I could do for the man who claimed to have loved me since the day we met and who had given everything up to be with me.
Chapter 12
Oxford Gardens wasn’t exactly as I’d remembered it. Back then, all those years ago when I’d gone home with Hugo after only having known him for a few minutes, the street seemed a small, untidy place, with cars parked bumper to bumper. I remembered the smell of marijuana coming from an open window and there had been a party in full swing on the ground floor of the house opposite Hugo’s old place.
Now the long road, lined on either side with grand terraced houses with basement flats and bay windows with window boxes on the first floor, was rather subdued and appeared just as middle class as the rest of the area, which had gone even more upmarket since I was eighteen. Stone steps led from street level to the front doors and the cars were in permit holder only bays, each more expensive than the next. The shabby net curtains I remembered blowing out from open windows had long gone in favour of naked windows, residents flaunting their affluence.
There was a smell of Moroccan barbecue wafting up from trendy Portobello Road as I made my way to 2A.
I came to a halt before pushing open the iron gate. Flat A was the basement flat, the blinds were up and someone was home. I could see a pair of legs extended on a soft, round footstool and an intermittent blue light told me that whoever was in there was watching television. Up the concrete stairs that led to the upper flats there appeared to be no one home on the first floor, but there was laughter seeping from an upper window and someone saying, ‘You have to be kidding me, right?’
> I thought about what I was about to do, inserting myself into Hugo’s life when I really didn’t have any place there. I was kidding myself if I thought this was going to be one little innocent visit to a sick friend. I had no grapes, no magazines and no idea what I was going to say to the man I had told to disappear from my life because I never wanted to see him again. Where to start?
I had decided against calling first, instead convincing myself I’d just drop in on the off-chance; that way Hugo couldn’t tell me to get lost. I took a gamble he’d be home knowing that if he wasn’t I’d have to go through the whole ‘should I call him, should I not?’ dialogue in my head which had tortured me earlier.
I involuntarily let the gate swing open, committing myself to descending the steps. If I bottled out now, Hugo might get up from his chair at the sound of the creaking gate only to see me trying to make a dash for it, trying not to be seen. I bravely knocked on the glass panel of the front door because there was no doorbell. Of course there was no doorbell. Hugo had come here to reminisce about his old life in this part of London while seeking medical care for his cancer. Maybe Stella was the only person allowed to visit.
I had my back to the living-room window so I had no idea if Hugo checked first to see who was knocking before he came to answer the door, but he took an awfully long time deciding whether to open it. I saw his tall frame behind the frosted glass and the slow and seemingly reluctant way he unlocked the door.
‘Magenta, we meet again,’ Hugo said, stepping aside for me to come in.
I walked onto a shaggy black mat and into a narrow hallway. We stood facing each other, me looking up at Hugo and biting my lip and Hugo pulling his lips into a thin line and not smiling at me.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ I finally said after an interminable silence.
‘I don’t,’ he said and turned to walk along the corridor. I could see through to the back of the flat. At the end of the corridor was a white and silver kitchen, a couple of closed doors going off to the right. Hugo had disappeared into the open one just to my right. My heels clacked on the wooden floor as I followed him in.
