by Lily Harlem
Tucking my handbag against my side and pushing my hair behind my ears, I stepped away.
“Katie.”
I turned.
Ruben was standing now, hands in his pockets, shoulders a little slumped. He prodded a clump of dry grass with his shoe. “Would you er…would you like to go out for a drink sometime, you know, when you move here? And I’d be happy to show you the sights, in the area, help you get your bearings. Not that there’s many sights now you’ve seen the museum and the park…”
He looked awkward and handsome, bashful and confident all at the same time. A strange feeling of longing tugged in my chest. Longing for what?
“There’s lively places in town,” he went on, “or quiet country pubs just outside, whatever you prefer.”
I said nothing. I probably appeared frozen, like a rabbit stuck in a flashlight beam, but inside I was in turmoil. Ruben Strong was asking me on a date. Shit, how the hell had that happened? What on earth would my friends think? What the hell would Matt have thought?
“Just a drink?” Ruben said, “no pressure, not a date or anything. I’m just guessing you won’t know many people, what with you just moving here and everything.”
Not a date. Not a date I repeated to myself. Okay then, I could handle that. I wasn’t ready to actually go out with a bloke again. Was I?
Oh, the questions I was being faced with this afternoon. And here was another one. Did I want to spend more time with Ruben?
That was an easier one. Because who was I kidding? A part of Matt was inside this man who stood before me. How could I not want to spend time with him? It could be just what I needed, a feeling of connection.
“That would be lovely,” I managed. Damn, I’d never be able to tell anyone about this. They’d think I was off my rocker.
Ruben grinned. “Great, look, here’s my museum card, it’s got my personal mobile on it. Call me when you get settled in and we’ll head out.”
I took the small blue card that held the same picture as his badge and a mobile number beneath his name. I swallowed tightly. “Okay, I’ll do that.”
Would I? Would I really? When sanity managed to break through grief and slap me around the face for my madness, would I actually call him? No, surely not. My heart and soul had taken all the beatings they could cope with, enough to last an eternity. There was no way I’d subject myself to the agony of going for a drink with Ruben Strong. It was just the heat of the moment making me do this. The confused state I was in.
“I’ll call you next weekend then,” I said, slipping the card into the front pocket of my bag.
It was official. I’d gone mad.
Chapter Four
“Katie, are you absolutely sure? I mean, I think it’s wonderful that you’ve made this decision, but will you be okay? You don’t know anyone in Northampton.”
I stared at Melanie, my boss and good friend of seven years, and fiddled with my wedding ring, twirling it around and around. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about a move, a fresh start for a while now, I just didn’t say anything to anyone.”
“Well, I can see that it could be good for you, and Northampton isn’t too far away at all. You’ll still be able to visit us, plus we have Felicity’s wedding in a few months so there’s the hen party and all of that…” She trailed off. People often did when weddings were mentioned around me.
“I can easily come back for that. I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Good.” She smiled. “And what about the house? Are you going to sell it?”
“No, I’m going to rent it out. I can’t quite bring myself to sell. Not yet.”
“Of course.” She pulled her eyebrows low and nodded.
I kept my tone light and conversational. “A letting company has been round, they said they had several people on their books who would snap my hand off to live there. Very popular area apparently.”
Melanie nodded again. “And what about somewhere to stay in Northampton? I’ll have to give the Abington Street Branch all of your details and they’ll need an address.”
“That’s sorted.” I hesitated; I didn’t want her to think I’d been too presumptuous about her allowing me to transfer branches of Skin Deep, but the truth was I would have changed jobs to get to Northampton.
After I’d left Ruben on Saturday I’d become a woman on a mission. Each step across that lawn away from him had been like adding structure to feeling alive again. I’d known by the time I’d got back to my car that agreeing to go for a drink with him next weekend had been absolutely the right thing to do. And no matter what obstacles were in my way I would be living in Northampton when that happened. It was the only thing I could do to make up for the lies that had flowed like syrup from my mouth—lies that had been as sticky as they’d been a prophecy. “I’ve seen a place to rent. It’s cute, has character and is in a lovely part of town. I’ve put down a deposit already.”
She raised her eyebrows, and I knew I had indeed been too presumptuous. She might be a close friend, but she was also my boss.
I shrugged and smiled. “I was there, looking around, you know, visiting the shops, the parks, and I saw a flat that called to me from an estate agent window. The place is empty and the deposit fully refundable if for some reason it’s not okay for me to transfer. So nothing is lost if it’s not a possibility.”
The deposit wasn’t refundable on my new little one-bed place that overlooked the north section of the park and into a school playground, but that didn’t matter. Money hadn’t been an issue for me since Matt’s death. He’d known his job was risky and had been well insured. Plus, the mortgage was automatically paid off and I’d had a substantial lump sum placed in our, or rather, my bank account from his company; a few years of his wages to be exact. No, money wasn’t one of my concerns, not that that had ever been a comfort, not really.
“Oh, well,” Melanie said with a sad smile. “In that case it’s just a matter of me making a phone call. I know they’re short because they have two on maternity leave and what with everyone wanting holidays this time of year. I’m sure they’ll say the sooner you can start the better.”
“Really?” It would be great if I could stay working at a Skin Deep branch. It was a job I could do with my eyes closed and I really didn’t need to use up valuable brainpower learning anything new at the moment. My thoughts, since Saturday, had been too full of Ruben. Not just that he had something of Matt’s inside him but his smile and the way he’d blushed when giving me his number. I felt drawn to him, to seeing him again. I hoped it wouldn’t be long until I did. “I would like to be there by next Monday really.”
“A week today?”
“Yes.” I flattened my lips together determinedly. It was the only way to do this, in one quick swoop while I still had the courage.
“Oh, well, of course.” She looked surprised, maybe a little hurt too. “We’ll have to round everyone up for goodbyes on Friday.”
I softened my expression, put on the mask I knew I would wear on Friday. “That sounds great, we should head to that new Indian Felicity was raving about.”
“Oh, yes, that sounds lovely.” Melanie picked up her phone. “I’ll make that call then. Let you know once things are confirmed. But you know…we will miss you terribly.”
* * * * *
My last week in Leicester went by in a blur. Everyone was surprised but supportive of my decision, and there was lots of hugging and tears at the end of our meal on Friday night. But I couldn’t help wonder if my colleagues were a bit relieved to see me going. When I was around I got the feeling they always worried about saying the wrong thing and upsetting me. Mentioning their own husbands or plans for the weekend were often said with hesitancy. It all meant I had to appear enthusiastic and interested if they were to continue—and I was interested, sort of.
Those thoughts made me even more determined to look at the bigger picture. I needed a new life with people who didn’t know me as the sad young woman who’d lost the love of her life one rainy Thursday in S
eptember. It had been an ordinary day, nothing remarkable except the promise of seeing each other that evening for dinner and a cuddle on the sofa.
The difference one phone call could make.
I shoved my last box of clothes into the back of my car and slammed the boot, relieved when the catch caught and the glass didn’t shatter. There was so much rammed into that small vehicle—the majority of my possessions, except for furniture. That could stay. I was renting our house as a furnished property and my new flat was freshly decked out and looked like something from an Ikea catalogue.
I was just taking clothes, books, photos and few ornaments and kitchen bits and pieces. Also, to make me feel a little more like the place was mine, a pile of cushions and bedding. Basically, a Vauxhall Corsa held what was left of my life. That wasn’t a thought I wanted to dwell on, not today, the first day of my new beginning. So I jumped in, revved the engine, and pulled away from Hemmingway Close.
Heading out of Leicester on the dual carriageway, I turned left, toward the cemetery. I didn’t intend to linger, just go and tell Matt what I was doing. It seemed like the right thing to do.
After parking up, I donned a large, floppy sunhat and a pair of shades, clicked my car locked and stepped into the silence.
The cemetery was enormous and on a graduation leading up to the crematorium. Although the sun was hot, it didn’t heat me, not really. Because this wasn’t a place I liked coming to, even though on occasions I was drawn here. Painful memories, images of the agony on Matt’s parents’ faces, my parents’ faces, Matt’s best friend and wife, his work colleagues all came to mind. Of course, their images had been blurred—I’d been crying.
Weaving what was sadly a familiar path through a section of older tombs, I walked toward the small copse. There was a brand-new gravestone there. A big stone angel with outstretched wings and praying hands. The arc of wings reminded me of the peacock, Ruben clapping and scaring it away. What would I have done if he hadn’t appeared? Let the damn thing bully me? No, surely not, I was made of tougher stuff. I’d have whacked it with my bag and ran. Yes, that’s what I’d have done.
But I was glad he had shown up.
I carried on walking. Most graves had flowers on them. Some were fake and looked bright and happy despite the continuing hot weather, some were so old and dead they were just pot pourri lying in cellophane, others looked fresher, although they wouldn’t for long. Many graves had small toy animals sitting next to them; a few held photographs or candles in jars.
When I reached the black, shiny stone inscribed with the words Matthew Lincoln Lansdale 1982-2012, much loved son, brother and husband, I stopped and sank to my knees. The hard ground bit my flesh, but I didn’t bother to shift. What was one more stab of pain?
“Hey, Matt. Your mum’s been here, I see. Your flowers are fresh. She’s good to you.”
A pang of guilt went through me. I was neglectful of his grave, I was sure his parent’s complained about me to their friends, but what could I do? I just didn’t see how offering flowers to a buried urn of ashes helped. Never had seen the point in it.
“I’m moving,” I said, plucking a few dandelions from the grass that covered his plot. “To Northampton. I hope you don’t think I’m mad, or are cross at me for doing this, but you see, I’ve met someone.” I paused and closed my eyes. “It’s not what you think, not at all. I haven’t met someone romantically; I’ve met the man who has your heart and lungs. His name is Ruben Strong and he’s friendly and polite and funny and saved me from the blitz and a peacock.” I smiled. “That probably sounds nuts but it’s true. He’s asked me out for a drink, not a date, just to show me Northampton. There’s lots to learn when you move to a new place. Remember what it was like when your parents moved up here from Devon? It took ages for them to find their way about, didn’t it?”
I opened my eyes and glanced around. The cemetery was still and empty. I couldn’t see another soul. “I haven’t told him, though. Who I am or who you are. I don’t think I should. That would be weird, wouldn’t it? And besides, I shouldn’t have gone looking for him. But then again, I could have by chance been in Northampton, wandering around the museum and suddenly bumped into him. That kind of thing happens all the time, right? Strangers meet.”
Who was I kidding? I’d orchestrated it. Hell, I’d hired a private investigator to find him. It didn’t get any more pre-meditated than that. But I really, truly hadn’t meant to talk to him. That had never been my intention. I’d just wanted to look.
“So I’m not going to tell him, for now anyway. I’ll just hang out with him for a bit. It makes me feel better, like I’m with you, kind of. Oh, I know I’m not really, I’m not that far gone, a heart and lungs is only flesh and blood. A mechanical structure designed for sending blood and oxygen around the body. But…” I shook my head then readjusted my hat. “But he made me feel better, a bit better, and nothing has made me feel anything other than shit since that day. I could pretend that it has, but it hasn’t.” I sighed. “I miss you so much, Matt. If only we could turn back time, if only we’d done as you’d suggested that morning and both rang in sick and spent the day in bed, making love, drinking tea, dreaming of our future. If only…”
What was the point in if onlys? A tear slipped down my cheek and landed on my bare thigh, just missing the hem of my shorts. I rubbed it into my tanned skin.
“So I should go now and see if this is the right decision. I think it is. I hope it is. Either way I’m going to give it my best shot, what choice do I have? Oh, I know there is always a choice. I could curl up in a ball and let the world pass me by, pray that my life slips quickly to the end so we can be together again. To be honest that sounds like the easiest option. But I’m going to take the other path. I’m going to start fresh, be Katie ‘the new girl’ and see how it fits, just for a few months. If I hate it I’ll come back to Leicester, no big deal.”
I wiped my hand over his name, feeling the indent in the masonry; it was sharp and made my fingertips a little sore. Standing then, I brushed grass from my knees that were marked by the dry earth.
“I’ll come back,” I said, “tell you how he’s doing, so you know that the decision I made back then was right.”
* * * * *
“So why do people make a song and dance about moving house?” I asked myself four hours later as I put my hands on my hips and looked around my new flat.
In the bedroom, my clothes were hanging in the wardrobe and the bed had my covers on it. The soft fudge-colored sofa held my bright, citrus-hued cushions, and a picture of Spanish Dancers, a wedding present, hung on the wall. My laptop was in the corner on a small table with a comfy chair in front of it, and my new, compact kitchen was ready for use. Even the fridge had the basics in it bought from a convenient M&S on the next street.
There were a set of three shelves in a small dining area with a low window, and I’d set photographs on them. The one of Matt and I on our wedding day taking center place; maybe it was time for him to move from the bedroom. I’d try it and see.
I sighed and flopped onto the couch, stared at the curtains I’d inherited. The same color as the sofa but with flecks of yellow in them, they were unusual and pretty and matched the colors I’d brought into the room, particularly the tall statue of a woman in a long dress that I’d placed on the windowsill. Yes, it looked nice. In fact, it more than looked nice, it felt nice. Felt right.
The window was open, letting in a slight breeze. I could hear children in the distance, playing in the park. A few minutes ago an ice-cream van had sung its way past; those children were no doubt racing to get themselves a sweet treat.
It occurred to me that I felt a little lighter than usual. That damn weight in my stomach was still there, but maybe a tiny bit of it had been removed, or chipped away, or something. The weight had shifted, that was for sure.
Yes, this had been the right thing to do, my new start, and I had to embrace my positivity.
I reached into my handbag and slid Rub
en’s card from the side pocket where I’d carefully stored it. I should call him now. See if he was free tonight to go for that drink. It would be a good end to what had turned out to be a good day.
Quickly, I checked the signal on my mobile then tapped in his number.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Ruben?”
“Yes.”
“Hi, this is Katie. We, er, we met at the museum last Saturday.” Oh, God, what would I do if he didn’t remember me? Perhaps he had a string of girls and gave his number out to so many he’d never be able to recall which one I was.
“Ah, Katie, yes, of course I remember. How are you?”
Oh, thank goodness. The wild fluttering in my chest settled—a fraction. “I’m okay thanks, just wondered if you were still up for going out, you know, for that drink.”
“Absolutely. I’d love to, how about tonight?”
I could almost picture him smiling as he spoke. I smiled too. “Perfect, I’m not doing anything.”
“Me neither, shall I pick you up?”
“Or we could meet. I noticed there’s a bar attached to Mem-Saab, that’s around the corner from me.”
He laughed. “Corkers, The Champagne Bar, oh what have I let myself in for? A woman with expensive taste.”
“No, no, it’s not like that, it’s just, well, it’s the only one I’ve really noticed. We’ll go somewhere else if you’d rather.”
“Not at all, Corkers is the ideal progression from tea and cake in the park. Shall we say about eight?”
“Okay.”
“They usually have piano music on a Saturday night, is that all right with you?”
“Makes a change from the brass band.”
“Certainly does.”
There was a short silence. I broke it. “I’ll see you later then.”
“Yes, and Katie…”
“Yes?”
