by Karen Osman
‘I think a celebratory lunch is in order, don’t you?’ he asked.
‘Well, I still have quite a bit—’
‘Don’t be ridiculous – you can take an hour out for lunch. Besides you deserve it. It looks like you made quite the impression.’
‘Thank you, Mr Mooring. Lunch sounds good.’
‘Excellent. Shall we do Sheekey’s? I know it’s your favourite restaurant,’ he said with a wink.
‘Lovely,’ replied Angela, wondering how they would get into the popular restaurant at such short notice; surely not even Mr Mooring had such influence? But it turned out he did, and as Angela clinked glasses with him in celebration, tipsy on triumph, she realised she could get used to this lifestyle that Raymond had enjoyed so often.
*
It was Friday afternoon, the day after Angela’s presentation to Sedgwick’s and the rumours about promotions were circulating thick and fast. There had been a management meeting that morning and Angela could barely concentrate. It was the last meeting of the year: an important one with business decisions being finalised for 1989, and new promotions were a key agenda item. If she got it, it would mean a massive jump in responsibility, and with it a significant increase in salary. She would have her own team of associates and interns as well as her own office, rather than the cramped cubicle.
What if she’d got it all wrong, though? Angela didn’t think she’d be able to swallow it if Mr Mooring gave the role to Raymond. But even with her complaint to HR hanging over Raymond, Mooring might – she’d seen it happen often enough. The problem with her industry was that it was often more about connections and influence than it was about winning cases and accounts. The phone rang, and Angela jumped. It was Mooring’s latest secretary asking all the associates to gather in the boardroom. Angela replaced the receiver. She’d done her best; there was nothing more to be done. She hoped it was enough.
53
Tuesday 6 December 1988
Dear Diary,
I’ve been so busy, but things feel like they’re really coming together now. I can’t believe how much my dad and I look alike – I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Perhaps I did on a subconscious level. Was Matron at the children’s home in on it? Did she keep his secret when they went through the adoption process? I also wonder how Evelyn felt about it all. At least, though, he did something about the situation – what did she do? Nothing! Anyway, it was nice to have a drink at Sheekey’s restaurant – very fancy. Mooring can be quite charming when he wants to be.
A.
Wednesday 7 December 1988
Dear Diary,
Not long until Christmas and still so much to do. I wonder what Mitchell does during this time of year? A Caribbean cruise? An all-inclusive in a luxury resort in Spain? Imagine the two of us relaxing on our sun loungers. I would be wearing a red bikini that sets off my dark hair and Mitchell would dutifully arrange the umbrella, so my skin doesn’t burn. We would spend our days lounging and swimming, occasionally ordering a glass of champagne from the bar to cool down. After lunch, we would head back up to our suite where we would make love before falling asleep in each other’s arms. After a nap, we would order afternoon tea, enjoying delicate sandwiches and fresh strawberries on our balcony overlooking the ocean. I would then take a long bath while Mitchell goes to the gym (well, he has to keep that body in shape somehow!) before I slip into a sexy dress for dinner. Bliss – how nice would it be not to have to spend Christmas in this dreary weather? I took a walk down Oxford Street this week. I saw a watch in the Ernest Jones window that would be a perfect Christmas present for him. It might be a bit much, though.
A.
54
Angela
As she emerged from the Tube station at Archway, Angela could see the back of the W5 bus as it left the bus stop, trundling up the hill. Damn, she thought, she would have to walk. It was twenty minutes later when she stood outside Evelyn’s door. She listened carefully to see if she could hear anything, but the block of flats was silent.
Angela knocked and Evelyn answered the door after several moments, all the while telling Charlie to calm down.
‘Hello, Evelyn!’
‘Hello, come on in.’
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes, all fine. It’s nice to see you again. Thanks for organising the locksmith as well,’ she added.
‘No problem, I’m glad it got done eventually,’ replied Angela.
‘Sit, sit. Do you want a biscuit?’ Evelyn asked as Charlie settled himself at her feet.
‘No, I’m fine thanks,’ said Angela, sitting on the sofa, opposite her. The same magazines were still on the coffee table, but tonight there was also a crossword puzzle book, splayed facedown, its spine a river of tiny cracks.
Angela picked up the book.
‘Seventeen down,’ commented Evelyn. ‘It’s niggling me. Maybe your brain can work it out.’
Angela looked at the clue: Cold drink in prisons (6)
She drew a blank. Crosswords weren’t exactly her forte.
‘What – that university education not paying off?’ Evelyn laughed.
Angela had to smile at her outspokenness. It was hard not to.
‘Well, if you’re not having a biscuit, can you get me one? I would do it, but my legs are playing up.’
‘Of course.’
‘While you’re up there, can you also pop the frozen lasagne in the oven? The oven should be hot enough by now.’
Evelyn wasn’t shy in asking, thought Angela to herself, as she removed the lasagne from its wrapping. You had to admire her in a way, though: Evelyn was a hustler. Having put the food in the oven, Angela found the biscuits, then washed the few dishes in the sink and wiped down the surfaces. There, she thought, it looks better already.
‘There you are – thought you’d got lost in there,’ said Evelyn.
‘No, I’m here,’ Angela replied as she put the plate of biscuits in front of her. Evelyn had put the fire on and the lamps created a warm glow in the room. The TV was on low, the flickering images capturing Evelyn’s attention every so often. Angela sat on the couch letting the heat massage her feet from the walk from the bus stop.
‘I brought you a Christmas present,’ said Angela, handing over the gift.
Evelyn looked surprised. ‘Oh, thank you. I’m sorry I don’t have one for you. As you can see, I don’t really do Christmas.’ She indicated the absence of a tree and decorations.
‘Oh, why not?’ replied Angela, the admission strangely bringing back memories of the meagre Christmases at the children’s home.
‘Well, after my father died, Mother never wanted to celebrate. I suppose it was her way of coping. And since then… well, I’ve just never bothered.’
‘Well, I hope you like the gift,’ Angela said, at a loss how to respond. She’d struggled to know what to buy. In the end, she chosen a soft, warm cashmere scarf that would be useful for when Evelyn walked Charlie.
‘I’m sure I will. So, you said on the phone the other day you had some news?’
‘I do,’ replied Angela, and started to tell Evelyn about the events of her last visit to Tetbury.
‘I couldn’t believe it when he told me. I’m still in shock, actually,’ admitted Angela when she’d finished.
‘I’m not surprised,’ replied Evelyn. ‘It’s a lot to take in.’
Angela waited for her to continue – it wasn’t like her to hold back.
‘It’s incredible that in just a few months I’ve found my real parents – it’s surreal,’ filled in Angela. ‘And for my dad to come and find me and rescue me from the children’s home – well, I dread to think where I would have ended up!’
Evelyn’s beady eye caught Angela’s, an uncomfortable silence filling the room at the implication. Angela had surprised herself with the remark. She didn’t know where it had come from. While it had been a bit close to the bone, it was still true, wasn’t it?
‘Yes, you’ve been lucky. It could have gone
either way,’ replied Evelyn, unwilling to be drawn into the conversation further. ‘So, how’s work going? By the way, would you like a cup of tea? No? Well, I might just get myself one, if that’s all right.’
Angela was about to tell Evelyn about her promotion but as she watched Evelyn struggle to get up, Angela offered to make it for her.
‘Thank you, that’s very kind,’ replied Evelyn, immediately sitting back down.
‘While I’m up, do you mind if I use your loo first?’
‘Feel free,’ replied Evelyn before taking a bite of the chocolate digestive. Locking the door behind her, Angela looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. She knew the harsh strip lighting wasn’t the most flattering, but she thought she looked more tired than usual. After the initial jubilation at her father’s confession, it was dampened by his illness, especially since the result of the blood protein tests had come back. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an anomaly, which meant additional medication. While her father had reassured her that the doctor was still positive and the test result should be considered just a minor setback, Angela had a distinct sense of foreboding. It was unusual for her. She dealt in facts, not feelings.
Angela turned away from the mirror to dry her hands on the small, pink towel. In doing so, she accidently knocked a small basket off the side of the sink, the contents spilling over the floor. Kneeling down on the bathmat to pick them up, she felt something under her knee. The contents of the basket completely forgotten, Angela lifted up the mat. Underneath, the linoleum had been carelessly cut into a flap, which when lifted, revealed a small gap in the floorboards. Between the gap, Angela could see the edge of a plastic bag sticking out – just enough to grip between thumb and forefinger. Angela paused. It really wasn’t her business what Evelyn kept hidden in her bathroom. But after a slight hesitation, Angela pulled out the small plastic bag. Evelyn had said she’d been clean for years now – that was one of the conditions of Susan facilitating the meeting. So why was Angela now holding a bag of white powder?
*
As Angela stood on the escalator taking her down into the depths of the Underground, she turned over the possibility that Evelyn was back on drugs. That would perhaps explain why Evelyn was getting things confused: hearing strange noises in the night and so on. It made sense, thought Angela as she stepped on the train. She was surprised to find herself feeling worried about Evelyn. Angela stopped herself. It wasn’t her responsibility. All she could do was help out where she could, but she knew that if someone chose that lifestyle, it would be very difficult to prevent it. All she could do was bear it in mind next time Evelyn had one of her turns, as Angela had now begun to think of them, and not take the drama too seriously.
55
Wednesday 14 December 1988
Dear Diary,
I started to wonder about St Matthew’s. Was it even still there or had it been demolished to make way for new houses? Ray and Kath must be long gone now, but if it was still in operation, who was running it? Could I go back there and see? What would it be like walking down the gritty streets of Hackney? The home was at the crossroads of Mile Street and Newsome Avenue, set back from the road. It was a red-bricked, three-storey building surrounded by wasteland and trees. The wire fencing all around was supposed to keep us in, and everybody else out. I wonder what happened to Nelly. She’s the only one I haven’t been able to track down. Does she remember nights snuggled in our dorm? It’s been years and I know it will be painful, but perhaps it’s time to revisit the place.
A.
56
Evelyn
Releasing the smoke from her lungs, she stroked Charlie absent-mindedly, thinking about Angela’s news. She wondered how Rosemary had reacted. She must have confronted James. What had he said? She hoped she’d given him hell for his lies. Angela seemed happy enough, though – delighted in fact. And why wouldn’t she be? James probably retold the events as if he was her knight in shining armour. Bastard.
It was thoughtful of Angela to bring her a Christmas present – beautifully wrapped it was as well, thought Evelyn as she checked the door was locked. She probably felt guilty about losing the key. It was unthinkable. Only tourists were daft enough to let thieves on the Underground get the better of them. Still, perhaps she was tired; it sounded like her work kept her very busy. Didn’t she say she spent more time at the office than she did at home?
Well, it was a different time compared to when Evelyn was younger. All that was expected of a woman back then was to get married and produce babies, and here Angela was in her power suit probably earning more in a week than she got from the council in a year! It was all different these days.
Evelyn got up from her chair and went to check the door again.
*
With December in full swing, it was perhaps no surprise that Evelyn had had one too many drinks one Saturday night. She could normally hold her booze, but when she woke up the next morning, she couldn’t remember how she’d got home. She certainly couldn’t remember getting into bed. She was still fully dressed when she woke up, so she presumed she must have come straight into the bedroom and crashed immediately. But it was when she went into the living room, the pounding in her head almost unbearable in its intensity, that she almost passed out in fear.
Someone had entered her house while she was unconscious and moved things around. Nothing seemed to have been stolen, but the dining table had been put upside down, and the TV had been unplugged and moved to the other end of the room. Evelyn forced herself to think. Had she left the door unlocked? No. She was being extra vigilant these days. But how else would they have got in? And why hadn’t Charlie barked? Another thought pierced the pain in her head: had she been so drunk she’d done this herself? It would explain why Charlie hadn’t caused a fuss and if someone had broken in, surely the lock would be broken? Yes, that was it. Perhaps she’d come home, worse for wear, and decided to rearrange some furniture. It was a new one for her – she usually liked to sing when she’d had a few drinks – but it was true she’d been thinking about her décor for a while since seeing Brenda’s new flat. Evelyn began to feel the horror of intrusion recede as the possibility presented itself. She must have had an awful lot to drink. There was only one way to find out: she would have to phone Brenda.
‘Honestly, Evie,’ laughed Brenda. ‘I can’t imagine what you were thinking, turning your dining table upside down! You must have had your own party when you got home because you weren’t that bad when you left me!’
‘Oh God,’ replied Evelyn. After telling Brenda she would call her later, Evelyn hung up and tried to think.
Had she come home and started drinking? If so, the bottles must be somewhere. She frantically searched the flat but came up empty-handed. Perhaps the drink was starting to affect her more than she liked to think? She’d said it many times before, but she really would have to start cutting back.
Then she thought of the threatening letters, the drugs, and the stranger pushing past her on her way back from bingo. Evelyn didn’t believe in coincidences – was the moved furniture somehow linked? Another way of sending a message? But how could someone get into her flat? It was impossible – she’d just had the locks changed! And then she thought the unthinkable: was Angela somehow involved in this? She was the one who had arranged the locksmith.
Evelyn thought back to the timeframe of events. They had only started happening after she’d met Angela. Angela knew where she lived, had her details. But why? Evelyn shook her head dismissively, trying to clear her mind, but fear began to creep its way back in, pushing at the edges of her hangover, making her pace frantically.
57
Rosemary
Rosemary quietly opened the front door in case James was still sleeping. She’d been to help Eileen sort out the left over things from the WI Christmas jumble sale, which had been held the week before. Tetbury was a generous village and while they’d had a good sale, there were still a lot of things left that would need to be taken to a charity shop. However,
with the two of them, they worked quickly.
‘Thanks so much for helping me,’ said Eileen. ‘Fancy a spot of lunch as a thank you?’
Rosemary was tempted. ‘That would have been lovely, but I’d best get back. I don’t like to leave James for too long.’
Eileen nodded in understanding. ‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’s doing well. Still very tired but…’
Eileen squeezed her arm sympathetically.
‘Anyway,’ replied Rosemary, ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘Take care, Rosemary, and love to James.’
Arriving home just after midday, she was ready for some lunch and hoped James had prepared a salad. Instead, she found the stepladder placed under the loft but with the hatch closed. Where was James? Surely he hadn’t gone up there by himself? And if so, why would he close it? After searching the house and the garden and finding no sign of him, she climbed the ladder.
‘James,’ she called, pushing aside the hatch covering. ‘Are you up there?’
Finally able to see into the loft, Rosemary looked around her in dismay. It looked like someone had burgled them. All the boxes that she’d carefully organised were unpacked, the papers strewn everywhere.
