What Happened to Us?

by Faith Hogan

  Two

  Carrie tucked the little dog beneath her jacket and left the restaurant early. Kevin would surely manage without her for one night. After all, he had Valentina now. Either way, Andrew was happy to hold the fort for her once he saw the state of her when she called him up to tell him she was going home. Andrew was more than any employee could ever be, they had become friends, in spite of Kevin’s barely masked homophobia.

  Carrie was cold and miserable and empty. Her bones felt as if the sleet of earlier had cut deep wedges in them and she would never feel warm again. Normally she had a glass or two of wine when she finished up for the day. Usually, she was wrecked, the restaurant business was gruelling, torture on the feet and by the end of a twelve-hour shift her brain was either too hyped up to rest or too tired to sleep. Tonight, she felt she could do with something warmer. She looked at the shelf filled with bottles of wine and various spirits and reached for a bottle of brandy. This would warm her up.

  Taking the first sip, she caught her reflection in the kitchen window. Did she really want to be one of those women who came home gasping for a drink each evening? If she was going to live alone, what would she turn into if she sat down with a bottle of wine every night? There could be no pretence now that she was sharing it with Kevin. Truthfully, he hardly touched the stuff anyway. She turned the glass into the sink, watched as the bronze contents flowed down the drain. The bottle of wine every other night had contributed to her expanded waistband and to her chronic sinus infection, she could admit that to herself at least. Perhaps without it, she might not have been such a fulsome snorer.

  She washed out the glass, left it on the draining board, placed the bottle back on the shelf – she was better than that. She was going to be better than that, she decided, and turned towards the little dog at her feet. He was a tricoloured smooth-haired crossbreed. Carrie couldn’t decide what his parents were, but she’d hazard a guess that there was a mix of springer spaniel and hound somewhere in his lineage.

  ‘Teddy?’ she had checked his collar earlier and now he looked at her with a keen interest as though he couldn’t quite figure out how she might know his name. What had she been thinking bringing home a stray mutt? But she couldn’t leave him out in that weather. He could freeze to death by the morning if he didn’t find shelter. ‘Just one night,’ she told him softly as she rubbed his filthy ears. Food and heat were what he needed most and he seemed glad to take her conversation with him as a bonus.

  She opened the fridge. Considering the meals she served up to customers each evening, her own stock was meagre. There were a few portions of lasagne in the freezer and she figured that they may as well go to her unexpected canine guest.

  He lapped up the lasagne and seemed satisfied to let her wash the dirt from him in the bath filled with warm sudsy water. Then he settled contentedly on a fluffy bath sheet under the radiator.

  ‘Well, it’s just you and me tonight, Teddy,’ she whispered, when he nuzzled into her later. It was funny, but she’d used generous fistfuls of Kevin’s expensive shampoo and conditioner on him, and yet, to her mind, the fragrance sat much easier on this little fellow. She’d worry about finding his owner tomorrow, she promised herself. There weren’t any contact details on his collar, just a name, and Carrie wondered if perhaps he belonged to the man in the alley earlier.

  Later, after she settled the little dog for the night, she dropped her clothes to the floor, while she selected the fluffiest pjs and thermal socks she could find. For a moment she lingered before the rails and shelves filled with Kevin’s clothes. A lesser woman might take a scissors to them, she told herself, but the truth was, she was too tired to think of revenge. Suddenly even picking up the clothes she wore earlier seemed like it might be too much. So, she left them where they landed, knew that if she wasn’t suffering from a broken heart, they would be put away as she always did. Instead, she folded herself into the king-size bed they’d bought together. Would he want to take this with him? For Valentina? They hadn’t thought of any of those things. She’d bet it hadn’t even entered Kevin’s head. They spent years gathering up the things that people work for. A home, a successful business, they had been the inevitable milestones along the way; tying them together, as firmly as any ring, or so she believed. Kevin’s clothes in the wardrobe, she had bought almost every item, apart from a few errant scarves, gifts from his sister, his mother, her mother.

  God. She couldn’t face telling them yet. At least, she wouldn’t have to tell Kevin’s mother. Maureen Mulvey would be Kevin’s worry now and that at least made her smile as she lay in bed. For tonight, she’d just close her eyes.

  A slight whimper and the sound of a tail thumping on the carpet outside her door made her smile. Teddy.

  ‘Okay, you,’ she said opening the door softly, ‘you can sleep on the floor, but one sound and you’re back in the kitchen,’ she ran her hand across his curled-up body. He settled himself just outside her bed on the deep shag rug that Kevin always hated. Soon, he was sleeping gently, his breath an easy accompaniment to her own, so Carrie realised she was drifting towards sleep with the hint of a contented smile on her lips. She reached out, turned off the alarm so she could sleep right through. The next day was Sunday and that’s what normal people did, wasn’t it? They slept late on Sundays.

  Carrie woke at five, perhaps it was the niggling worry that Teddy might need to relieve himself. She herded him downstairs and out for a quick round of the garden, although he was not keen. He moved slowly and grumbled like an old man at the disruption of his beauty sleep. Would Kevin be sleeping late with Valentina? He must be staying with her now. Kevin couldn’t go out and buy himself a pair of socks without Carrie. He would need someone to slip into that role. Carrie couldn’t imagine Valentina hitting the men’s underwear section any time soon. It struck her that Kevin hadn’t really thought about this at all. He couldn’t survive without Carrie; he needed her. The problem was, she suddenly realised with the clarity of that sheeting snow against her window, he didn’t want her anymore. He just didn’t want her.

  There was light outside when she woke next, that sort of sterilised whiteness that always comes with snow and made her feel as if, in some way, her life had been untainted and made purer. The notion was in itself an odd if satisfying surprise. It was a dull insipid bright, but still much better than the heavy leaden look of the day before. On the other hand, she knew, with her sleep-filled eyes, it may just be very late. It was after eleven in the morning, as late as she could remember getting up for years. Normally, on a Sunday morning, she got up early and headed for mass with Kevin’s mother. She’d completely forgotten that today. She did the journey more for Kevin than for his mother. Maureen Mulvey had a way of getting them all to jump to her command. Carrie didn’t even like mass. She wasn’t sure she believed in any God anymore; maybe less today than any other Sunday. She hadn’t thought about it before, but she picked up Maureen every Sunday morning, while Kevin slept late. She drove her the short distance from Maureen’s semi and parked where she was told and then trudged to the same seat each week. At least, Maureen had stopped giving her digs about ‘living in sin’ with Kevin. Maureen had all the benefits of a daughter-in-law, without having to part with her son.

  Carrie lay in her bed looking up at the ceiling. It needed a good painting; a crack ran right down the middle, as though it separated the two sides of the bed beneath it. This house was ninety years old. The crack in the plaster over her head was nothing to worry about; perhaps it had been trying to tell her something all along.

  Reaching out for her phone, there were five missed calls, four of them from Maureen, the fifth Carrie didn’t recognise, so she let it slip. She wondered idly, if perhaps some poor neighbour was roped in to take Maureen in the end. She presumed Kevin had not contacted his mother nor had he brought her to mass. She wasn’t surprised, he would put off telling his mother. He would put off telling everyone. Kevin hated any kind of conflict. He’d miss that too; Carrie had removed as man
y of those stressful situations from him as she could. Not this time. She pulled her phone closer to her and flew off a text to Kevin.

  Better explain to your mother why she has no lift to mass anymore – unless Valentina will oblige.

  She’d hesitated about putting an x on the end. Kevin would know she was only being bitchy, she wasn’t a kiss-kiss sort of woman. She was good old Carrie, get things done, keep things moving along. On the drive, outside her door, she had a BMW. It was a compromise. She’d have preferred a Volkswagen, they were meant to be so reliable, but Kevin insisted that they needed to look the part of successful business people. With the sort of customers they had coming in, having a twelve-year-old crock outside the door just wasn’t going to cut it. There it was, in a nutshell, the difference between them. Valentina would probably give her false eyelashes for a Beamer. Carrie assumed Valentina’s eyelashes were false, after all no one gets the eyes, the legs, the teeth, the boobs and the lashes – not unless they’re a Victoria’s Secret model.

  So what would she do with her day? Now that she didn’t have to sort out Kevin’s mother, Sunday seemed to stretch ahead like a jail term. She couldn’t think like that, she knew she couldn’t afford to. She had two choices, either she could sit here, stare at Teddy and hope Kevin came to his senses, wait and die a lonely spinster or… Well, she wasn’t sure there was an alternative, but she wasn’t going to be sitting here waiting for Kevin bloody Mulvey to come round.

  Teddy slept soundly until Carrie threw the quilt back on the bed. It was as if he’d marked time with her, loyally waiting by her bed. She opened the back door and he scooted out immediately, prancing over the icy whiteness as he nosed about the potted plants she’d dotted around the little patio. Carrie enjoyed watching him, diverted for a short while from a slowly gripping desperation, as the life she thought was hers slipped from her.

  After a quick bite, Carrie cleared away her breakfast and she set the kitchen to rights. ‘Well then, Teddy, what are we going to do about you today?’ she asked him and he tilted his head as though she might have the answer already. The poor little thing, she really would have to figure out what to do with him.

  Apart from the refuges and the pound, she wasn’t sure where else she could check on a Sunday and once she’d made a couple of calls to clear her conscience, she was glad to be headed towards the nearest pet shop to pick up food and a decent lead and chew bones for him. She enjoyed that, spoiling him. It was a little like shopping for Kevin, but she felt it was much more deeply appreciated, then she drove into town and headed for The Sea Pear. She wasn’t sure why; she knew it would be empty now. Perhaps she could see how last night had gone from the state of the place and from the till receipts.

  She pulled up on the empty street at the front. Normally, on weekdays, you couldn’t move on Finch Street, but Sundays saw the place deserted and she’d often come here, just to update her blog and have a quiet cup of coffee on a Sunday afternoon, after dropping off Maureen.

  She wasn’t in the mood for opening the blog today. Not, she realised that anyone would notice. It was just a hobby, somewhere to share recipes and tips and chat with her friends from college who were spread across the world now. Her only true follower was her friend Anna who had no interest in cooking or kitchen hygiene. Anna was her best friend; they’d stuck together since primary school. They were, as her mother liked to say, ‘chalk and cheese’. Anna was arty, flighty and insuppressibly flirty. She was an ice cool blonde with a precarious acting career and an even more precarious approach to her domestic life. She lived like a student and blew between jobs and men like other women did nail varnish shades. She liked the idea of supporting Carrie in her one occupation outside of ‘Operation Kevin’, as she termed the rest of Carrie’s life.

  Carrie walked through the restaurant with Teddy at her heel, picking up cutlery and checking that it shined. In the kitchen, she switched on the kettle for a cup of instant coffee. Carrie never bothered with the machine. It was far too much effort for the same results, as far as she was concerned. The kitchen was clean; it looked and smelled as if Kevin had gone through his usual night-time routine. He was obsessive about clean-up. Probably, he’d have a fit if he knew she had brought a dog in here.

  The back door caught her eye, for a moment. She thought about coming through it the evening before, standing there, no one had noticed her. She had walked through the kitchen, the dog in her arms, up the back stairs to her office, before picking up her coat and tidying herself up as much as she could then dashed to her car without so much as one person lifting a head to greet her. Only Andrew, whom she had summoned, had regarded Teddy with interest.

  Now, she walked to the door, thinking about the man who had given her the key. It felt like a dream today. He seemed unreal, as if she imagined those dark eyes in the rain. She pulled across the latch and threw back the door, the smell of last night’s refuse pinching her senses. What on earth had he been doing in the alley at the back of the restaurant? Perhaps he lived locally. Although Carrie was fairly sure she knew most of the people who lived around here. There was a guest house, just around the back of the block; maybe he was staying there?

  She turned to go back in, she would have a coffee and then decide what to do with the dog and the long day stretching out ahead. Then, at the top of the road, she saw him. She was sure, it was him. Standing, undecided as to whether he should come towards her or not. She waved at him, a small movement of her hand; caught her breath while she waited. Then, there it was. He waved, as self-consciously as she had, back at her and then he moved off. Carrie popped back into the kitchen, propelled by she was not sure what. She ran to the front of the restaurant, the dog at her heels. He was almost three doors down by the time she got out onto the street.

  ‘Hello,’ she called after him and her voice sounded strange and disconnected on the empty street. ‘Hello,’ she shouted again, but still he kept on walking away from her. She left the restaurant behind her, the keys held firmly in her hand, the little dog enjoying the excitement of running about her. Then, she was beside him and suddenly, she realised she didn’t know what she wanted to say. ‘Hello,’ she said a little breathlessly, she was never an athlete, even before the toll of her daily bottle of wine had led her into the darker end of the doctor’s BMI chart.

  ‘Hello,’ he said automatically, looking at her as though she’d just lost the run of herself, but much too polite not to greet her. Then he smiled, when they both realised the awkwardness of the situation.

  ‘I wanted to thank you, for yesterday. I never said… and then, when I went to look for you, well, you were gone and I thought…’ He was looking at her blankly and she realised perhaps he didn’t recognise her. ‘Thank you.’ She held out a hand to shake with him.

  ‘You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I scared you,’ he said and looked down at the dog at her feet. ‘Well hello, you.’ He bent down and patted his head. ‘I was looking for him, last night when you…’ He stood then, smiled at Carrie.

  ‘Ah, that answers a lot of questions,’ she said then. ‘He’s yours so?’

  ‘Not exactly…’ The man smiled, ‘I thought he was a stray…’ He looked up and down the street, his eyes drifting across the pub opposite. ‘I was going to pop into the pub over there for coffee, but it seems to be closed.’

  ‘Oh dear, the Marchant Inn only opens when Jane feels like it and even then, you can’t be sure of opening hours. But, funny you should mention coffee…’ Carrie found herself smiling at the man now. ‘I’m Carrie by the way,’ she said. ‘I – or rather we, myself and my… partner, we own The Sea Pear.’ She nodded back towards the restaurant.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ they shook hands again and Carrie couldn’t remember if they’d already been introduced, because there was something so familiar about him. ‘I’m Luke Gibson.’

  ‘Come on, come with me,’ she said and then she was leading him back towards The Sea Pear before she had time to think about it. ‘The least I can do is make you a co
ffee to say thanks.’ She brought him through the restaurant, into the kitchen, the little dog yapping happily beside them. ‘So, you and Teddy?’ she nodded towards Teddy when she had made two coffees for them.

  ‘Yes, I’ve just been kind of looking out for him,’ and he smiled again. ‘I’ve noticed him around the streets these last few days. So, I’ve been making sure he had something to eat, you know…’

  ‘Well, that’s strange, because I’d surely have noticed him before if he was hanging about.’

  ‘He looks like he could belong to someone elderly, but then sometimes…’ He shook his head. ‘The old lady over in the pub, he wouldn’t be hers, would he?’

  ‘Mrs Marchant?’ Carrie’s eyes drifted towards the little dog who sat now watching them both with interest, as if he might at any point contribute to their conversation. ‘No, she’s all on her own over there. Mind you, if she was a dog a person, he’d be lovely company.’ There was a thought; she’d never considered suggesting a dog to take the loneliness for Jane out of The Marchant Inn. ‘I might pop across later and see if she’d like to take him in for now.’

  ‘You haven’t heard?’ he said, sipping his coffee.

  ‘Heard?’ Carrie began to laugh, but it was a nervous sound, there was no mistaking the tone of his voice.

  He sighed. ‘She was taken away in an ambulance late last night, it looked serious. It was why I intended to pop over there for coffee today, just to see if she was all right.’

  ‘Oh, no, my phone, there was a missed call…’ She rummaged in her bag, fished the phone out from what seemed like the very depths. ‘Thank goodness I didn’t delete the number.’ She dialled it and waited as it hummed and beeped until various admin staff could put her through to a ward nurse. ‘I’m her next of kin,’ it was a white lie, but she made a face at Luke to share the guilt of it.