The Man I Loved Before: A completely gripping and heart-wrenching page turner

by Anna Mansell

  ‘She is. She always has been.’ There’s a pause. ‘So,’ Mum begins, tentatively, and that’s never a good sign, ‘what does all this mean for you two then?’ Oh God. She flaps her hands in the space between us. ‘You two “friends”…’

  ‘Mum! I mean, I don’t think we need to label us, this I mean—’

  ‘Labels or not, I think maybe we’ve moved past the friend zone, haven’t we?’ Mitch peers at me, his eyes glinting. The part of me that is a little bit excited at the look in his eye and the prospect of a repeat performance of what happened last night, not least so I can remember every detail, is also a bit perplexed because is this not a weird conversation to be having with your mum?

  ‘Well, I’ll tell you this much, kids. Life is too short to hang around. You two have clearly had feelings for each other from the get-go and it’s nice to see you with a smile on your face, lady. I’ve been really worried about you.’ She looks at me pointedly and I know exactly what she’s talking about, even if she doesn’t want to say it in front of Mitch. ‘It’s good. You’re happy.’

  ‘I’m also dying inside, Mum.’ I immediately regret my choice of words and I suspect she sees it.

  ‘Don’t be so dramatic. There’s only one of us round here who’s dying and you do not see me crying into my bacon sandwich.’

  ‘I don’t see you eating your bacon sandwich.’

  ‘Look. It’s almost eleven o’clock and I have things to do. Mitch, if you are remotely interested in my daughter, and I can see you very much are, you will pick her up later for dinner or some such. Make a nice evening out of it. And if it’s all the same to you two, if you insist on having sex on my carpet, can you please make sure I don’t have to find you entwined the morning after. You’ve put me off my breakfast.’ She pushes her plate out of reach, grabs her tea and newspaper and retreats upstairs to her bedroom.

  Mitch and I are stunned into silence. At least we avoided the sofa.

  44

  I’ve been distracted all morning. I keep catching myself gazing out of the window like Mum does. The sky is blue. Electric. No vapour trails, no clouds. Mum has been in her room all morning, reading. I’ve called out, checking if she wants a drink or food, it’s always a no. Her door is shut too. She was bright this morning, chatty and full of life with Mitch but it’s as if she used all her reserves and wiped herself out. Or maybe she’s just processing the prognosis. How can you even begin? How can you think about things knowing there is nothing anyone can do to save you? I mean, I know we all die. I know it can happen out of the blue, at any moment, and yet that’s not how any of us walk through life, is it? We don’t sit with the knowledge that our death is in reach.

  They wouldn’t say how long, she asked a few more times, they couldn’t be certain was all Mr Faux said. I googled it. Which was a bad call. Because although some people said it was six months or twelve, or more in some cases, from the moment the patient was put on a symptom management plan to the moment their loved ones passed, all I could see were the ones who died within weeks or months. And each one so different. There’s no consistency to it. The range of things that finally cause the end is too broad. So, what do I do? Panic about every little symptom? Mum’s stoic, I know she’ll take it in her stride, when she finally comes out of her bedroom with brave painted on. But me? I don’t know if I have her strength.

  All she has said is that it’s nice to see me with a smile on my face. And I think it is too, but my head is full. One minute it’s all Mum, fear, questions, worry. Then it’s Mitch. His lips on mine, his touch, his smell. My heart is torn between the thing I fear the most… and Mum dying. She’s always said I shouldn’t be afraid to love. As a kid, she’d say it. I was fifteen. I had a holiday romance with a marine I met in Ibiza. God my heart broke, shattered, when he eventually said he couldn’t see me any more. He was being practical. It could never have worked, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever recover. Mum said it first then, ‘Never be afraid to love.’ And I’ve remembered it always, yet somehow, I don’t know if I’ve truly lived by it. I think I’ve always kept something of me hidden. A part of me that nobody sees, not even Ben. And I did love him, I know I did, but I think I also know I only loved him as much as I allowed myself to, there was always something I kept back because to give fully makes me vulnerable. Now, I don’t even know if could let go…

  I really shouldn’t think about it. I’ve got work to do. These bloody bank statements. What should only be an hour-long job has so far taken me almost two and I’m still not done. Life’s distracting. Mitch is distracting. Not in a way I’ve known before. He’s different. Arresting, maybe. Not sure. I feel different with him, maybe he sees the part of me I’ve always tried to hide.

  Mum likes him. I can see that. She’d love to see me settle, to know that I’m okay.

  He told me to be ready for 7.30 p.m. He told me to wear something nice, but not too nice. What does that even mean? He won’t tell me where we’re going again. It should probably be exciting. I think I’ve perhaps got too much on to be excited. And I just keep thinking about Mum.

  My phone rings and I leap on it, mildly disappointed to see it’s Leanne. ‘Jem, where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Good morning to you too.’

  ‘I called and texted last night. Didn’t you see?’

  ‘No? Sorry, I’ve been distracted since I got back.’

  ‘You said you’d call, I was worried.’

  ‘I’ve only been back a day,’ I point out, irritated. ‘I didn’t know you’d texted.’

  ‘You read my message!’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Well, according to my phone.’

  If I did, I’ve no memory of it. Too busy drinking and talking and sexing. I don’t mention that though. If she’s been worrying about me, she’ll tut.

  ‘I was just checking you were back.’

  ‘Sorry, yes. I am. We are. I got distracted, sorting Mum out. Then Mitch turned up.’

  ‘Oh, did he?’

  ‘He was worried. Wanted to know I was okay.’

  ‘Oh, right. Nice of him. So, what’s happened? How’s your mum? What have they said?’

  I feel guilty I’ve not told her. Mitch knows everything yet Leanne, my best friend in the whole world, didn’t even know I was back. ‘It’s not good. I mean… that’s an understatement. A lot has happened…’ I look out of the window to the electric blue sky. I see the tree elephant and its baby. I gaze disdainfully at the statements on my bedside cabinet-cum-desk. ‘Are you in for a bit? Can I come over?’

  ‘Of course. Harley’s gone on a trip with nursery ’til later anyway. It’s just me and Elsie.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be there in ten.’

  I fold the corner down on the form I’ve got up to, barely halfway through. Some things can wait.

  45

  I knock then let myself in, pulling mail out of the letterbox and dropping it on the side table. The theme tune to Loose Women comes on from the lounge and Leanne shouts, ‘Flick the kettle on, Jem.’

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ I ask, opening the cupboards for mugs.

  She pads through to me, Elsie over her shoulder, fast on. ‘Coffee, please. Barely got any sleep last night and I’m functioning on Kenyan Taste the Difference.’

  ‘Eurgh! Sounds awful. I don’t know how you cope. I’d be a wreck if I didn’t get my sleep.’ I go over to give her a hug and kiss Elsie on her tiny milk-drunk forehead.

  ‘You cope. You have to. It’s amazing how well you adjust when the babies arrive, it’s like your body pulls up its braces and cracks on with it.’

  ‘Yeah. Okay.’ I’m unconvinced.

  Leanne leans against the worktop, picking at a few cashew nuts from a bag on the side.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ I ask. ‘Can I make you something?’

  ‘I’d bloody love a crumpet with blue cheese!’

  ‘What the hell?’

  ‘I know, right. Filth. But good filth. And when these little bleeders are drinking you dry of all go
odness, you need to stock up. Besides, I couldn’t eat it when I was pregnant, could I? Can’t get enough now.’

  ‘Crumpet, blue cheese and coffee coming up then.’ I wince.

  Busying myself in her kitchen feels good. Familiar. Whilst Andy is away during the week, I’ve all but lived here for the past few months, helping out with Harley when Leanne was heavily pregnant, supporting her with Elsie when she arrived. At the risk of sounding like it’s all about me, it’s made me feel useful. Needed. That’s going to have to change though. Mum needs me. Somehow that feels less useful and needed and more scary and uncertain. Like I’m not sure I really know how to be the person she needs when she needs it most.

  ‘Come on then. What’s going on? You look… worried.’

  ‘Do I?’ Peering into the mirrored bit of the microwave, I pull at my eyes and forehead. ‘I look old, is what I look. That’s bloody Basingstoke for you.’

  ‘So how did it go? What did they say?’

  Whilst pouring the coffee and making her lunch, I tell her everything about our trip. She listens, like she always does, letting me speak before offering words of wisdom in amongst the sounds of sadness because when I recount it all like this, it really is pretty shit. And I realise why the consultants always sound so perfunctory because how else can you talk about it? You can’t get emotional, it hurts too much, it’s not useful, it achieves nothing. There’s no silver lining, so no plus points to highlight. It just is what it is. ‘It’s a mess that won’t get better and then she’ll die.’

  ‘Oh God, Jem. I don’t know what else to say.’

  ‘There’s nothing you can say.’

  ‘This is a stupid question, but… are you okay?’

  Am I? I’m standing. I’m breathing. I’m not, to my knowledge, dying. ‘Yes. I mean. I suppose. As much as you can be. Of course, no, too. I’m not okay in as much as it’s the single most horrendous, distressing, stressful, upsetting and dark thing I’ve ever gone through, but, I don’t know, trying to find something positive, at least I’m here. I can be with Mum. You know? I have time, I can care for her. Some people don’t get that, do they? It’s a privilege.’

  I hand over her lunch, she takes a giant bite out of the crumpet, letting out an appreciative groan.

  ‘Mum’s being amazing. As you’d imagine. She said to Mitch this morning—’

  ‘This morning?’

  Shit.

  ‘Erm, yeah.’ Carry on, she won’t notice. ‘She said to Mitch that she was not going to spend whatever time she had left being dictated to by cancer.’

  ‘That’s your mum all over.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘But how come Mitch was there this morning? I thought he came over last night?’

  Nothing gets past her.

  ‘Well, yes, he did…’

  She waits, giving me a look with her eyebrows as I try to form the right words to describe what’s going on but apparently I take too long. Her eyes narrow, then widen, before she breaks out into a massive grin. ‘Oh, my God, you did not? You did! You had sex. You did the rude stuff. I knew it! I told you! I called it at Aunty Vi’s. You’ve let him touch your lady bits. Ha!’ She takes another bite of her crumpet. ‘Excellent work,’ she says, mouth full. ‘If I didn’t have crumpet in one hand and a sleeping baby in the other, I’d high five you right now. Come through here, tell me everything. I want details.’

  I drop onto the sofa opposite her. She switches Loose Women off, so this must be important. She scoops up bits of runny cheese that have escaped through the holes in her crumpet, sucking them in whilst waiting for me to dish the dirt.

  ‘Like I say, he came over last night. Wanted to check how I was.’

  ‘I’ll bet he bloody did, the dirty dog.’

  ‘Leanne!’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘We chatted. He brought wine. I said I wasn’t going to have any then he pointed out how crap things were and that if I couldn’t have a drink then, when could I? So, we drank it. Then…’

  ‘Yes?’ She licks her fingers, leaving the plate on the sofa beside her.

  ‘Well, then we had sex on the lounge carpet.’

  ‘Oooh, carpet burns.’

  ‘Nope. Thankfully not.’

  ‘I got them once. Nightmare. They take forever to heal. Still got the scars.’ Leanne is trying not to jiggle as she laughs because Elsie’s still knocking the zzzs out. She shifts her from shoulder to the sofa beside her, nestling her amongst a couple of cushions so she can’t roll off. ‘So’ – she clasps her hands together, elbows on crossed knees – ‘how was it?’

  I was hoping she wouldn’t ask this because whilst I can remember the kissing, oh, the kissing, and I can remember feeling the weight of him on me, the rest hasn’t entirely resurfaced just yet. ‘Well… I remember us drinking and kissing and talking. We made a sort of den, on the lounge floor… I remember getting vodka and us doing truth or dare.’ I bury my head in my hands. ‘Oh God, truth or dare shots. Christ, who knows what I bloody well said?’

  ‘You can’t remember?’

  ‘No! I don’t think I can. What if I said something awful?’

  ‘And what about the sex? Can you remember that?’

  I slouch down into the sofa with a groan, wishing I could bloody remember. ‘I mean, I think it was great.’

  ‘You think? Were you that hammered? Hang on, did he take advantage of you? I knew there was something off about him!’

  ‘No! No, he wouldn’t do that. He’s walked away before, when he thought I was too drunk. He wouldn’t. We were both drinking, it was a stress release. After Basingstoke, I just… I don’t know… it sort of happened. It wasn’t planned. I just can’t quite remember it…’

  ‘Who says romance is dead?’

  ‘Anyway, what do you mean by there being “something off about him”?’

  ‘No, nothing. I just meant from before, at school…’ She stares at me, unblinking.

  ‘Oh, Leanne, it’s awful, isn’t it?’ The weird knot I’ve had in my belly seems to niggle even more.

  ‘No, not awful. Just… well, not ideal. Is it?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  ‘So what now?’

  ‘Well, we’re going out tonight. On a date.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You need to tell him you hate surprises, Jem.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Because otherwise it’s a relationship based on lies.’

  ‘It is not a relationship, and it’s not based on lies! Christ, dramatic!’ She folds her arms at the same time I do. ‘We just sort of got pushed into it. Mum said we should go out, she just told him to pick me up tonight and that was that. There wasn’t time to argue with her or plan where to go. He just said he’d sort it. I let him. It’s nice.’

  ‘I guess. And not so easy to tell your mum no right now, anyway.’

  ‘That’s what Mitch said.’

  Elsie murmurs and Leanne leans over, stroking her face. She has the magical touch of a mum and Elsie settles straight away. Leanne peers at her for a moment, just checking if she’s really back asleep. She’s gentle with her. She sort of oozes kindness and warmth and love. I envy it, weirdly.

  ‘You like him then?’ she says eventually, reaching for her coffee. ‘I mean… I’ve worried about you Jem, what with all that Ben stuff. I wondered if you’d be able to move on, I wasn’t even sure with the Tinder thing, but I had to do something. You needed a shove. Was it worth it? How does he compare? I don’t mean compare, I know you shouldn’t compare but… well, you were broken after Ben. I know it’s still raw.’

  ‘It is.’ The letter I wrote him is still on my bedside table. I don’t know what to do with it. I should probably burn it like I was going to in the first place. ‘He’s moved on though, hasn’t he? And I need to, too. I’ve needed to for a long time, you and Mum saw that before I did.’

  ‘That’s our job. But it has to be with the right person. I mean, I don’t want you to rush i
nto anything, it’s a difficult time.’

  ‘I know it is. But Mitch has been there, he knows what I’m going through. It’s hard, you can’t imagine it unless you’ve been there. And thanks to you giving me the shove, I’ve met Mitch and he knows. I needed to snap out of it, Leanne. The trip to Cornwall. The letter. All this Mum stuff, maybe it’s making me realise how much I need to move on. I want Mum to see me happy, settled. And she needs me, now.’

  ‘You need you too, Jem.’

  ‘I know, I just mean, Mum stuff, it’s major. It’s not going to get better. You know?’

  ‘I know. Hey, what was it you said to me when Harley was born? That I should look after me, so I can look after him. Same applies here, for you. You have to look after you to look after your mum. Mitch seems great, but…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘Just… take your time. You’re important to me.’

  ‘I know. You too. It’s fine. It’s all going to be fine. Let’s face it, what’s the worst that can happen?’ I smile, sadly, because we both know the worst that can happen and we both know I can’t escape it.

  46

  I stand in front of the mirror, holding dresses up to me, discarding them on the bed. Leanne’s words have echoed all afternoon, I need to be okay. I can’t look after Mum unless I look after me. And I know it, all that stuff. In fact, it’s weird to hear her shoot it back at me, but she’s right. And though I’m not sure what this is with Mitch, I know it’s something I’ve never had before, never felt before. And Mum wants to see me happy, settled, so I have to explore it for her sake as much as mine. I want her to know I’m okay. I don’t want her worrying about me, about what will happen when she’s gone.

  The Moomin envelope catches my eye. I pick it up, flipping it over, running my finger along the scrawled biro mark that says Return to Sender. I don’t know that the trip to Cornwall was quite the closure I was looking for but maybe this was. Return to sender.