by C. J. Duggan
I shouldn’t be wasting my energy on the likes of Jack Baker – whose sudden allure I put down to being a symptom of my complete and utter isolation and boredom. Sure, he was easy on the eye and he made things interesting whenever he was around, so it was only natural that I was gravitating toward him. Having justified my momentary attraction, I felt at ease.
Enough was enough. I may not be piling into a car with a group of strangers to go to Knightsbridge, but I would become more proactive from this moment on. I would fight against the boredom, thus alleviating my interest in Jack Baker, and I would get on with my life. And just as I was determined to do that very thing and took a big ol’ swig of H20, George’s mobile phone lit up and started to vibrate across the table.
He swooped it up, smirking as he read the screen and answered.
‘Hello, Jacky Boy!’
Chapter Fourteen
‘Guess who I’m with.’ George winked at me, his smile cheesy as he reclined in his chair. I wanted to mime ‘don’t say anything’, but I was too busy hanging on the edge of my seat.
‘Your lovely neighbour, Kate Brown.’
He’ll think I’m some kind of stalker; I’ll be having afternoon tea with his parents next and loitering outside his work.
I was dying to know what Jack said, and what he thought about me hanging out with his mate, and was answered when I saw the smile drop from George’s face and his eyes shift quickly to me before affixing them to his drink.
‘Right, I see.’
What was he telling him?
‘No, look, I get it.’
Was he saying I was a bunny boiler? That I locked my nana in a room and sent her to the hospital and now I was after him?
‘No, look, I’ll crash someplace else, no problem.’
My stomach dropped. Jack had someone at his place – it all made sense now. I guess I should have been relieved that his no-show was nothing personal, but there was something that twisted my insides when I thought about it, and that, in turn, just made me feel stupid. I shouldn’t care what Jack was doing or who he was with, it was none of my business. I was grateful that George made me stay so that I could finally put Jack out of my silly little head.
‘Yeah, mate, right-o.’ He hung up the phone.
‘Not coming out then,’ I said, breezy as you like.
George looked annoyed, his eyes far away, before his attention finally snapped to me. ‘Hmm, oh no, no, he won’t be coming out, and I have to find an alternative couch to crash on.’
An awkward silence settled between us that had me worrying about what Jack had said to him.
Careful, George, she’s trouble.
George’s puppy-dog brown eyes lifted up to me with interest; it was the kind of look that said, How about your place?
Oh, hell, no.
‘Listen, I’m going to go, I’m starting to sober up now and that’s just tragic.’ I stood so quickly my chair flung backward, saved only by George’s quick reflexes.
I thought George might say something witty, but his smile was sad and he didn’t argue.
‘See ya, Kate, be safe, yeah?’ he said, but he was too busy texting on his phone to look up at me.
I grabbed my clutch from the table. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t be hopping into any taxis with random partiers,’ I said, but it seemed any attempt at humour was lost on George as he looked up at me, clueless.
‘Night, George,’ I said, and dodged through the crowd.
Though I hadn’t done much exploring beyond my front gate, one thing was becoming quite clear: I loved my neighbourhood. Even at night there was a buzz surrounding the cafés, pubs and shops. I still felt like a tourist, though, as I stumbled my way across awkward intersections that had no give way rules, or none that I could see.
The Stanhope Arms was a mere five-minute walk from Onslow Gardens, where Nan’s terrace was situated. On nights like this it didn’t seem long enough, and I thought of how I had squandered my precious free time. I had intended to at least lose myself in the throes of alcohol, but even that had failed. Turning into my street, I took solace in the fact I didn’t have to worry about waking up Nana, who would no doubt return with her wrinkled death stares and ready to blame me for her near-death experience for the rest of her days. But I would take it; let her use me as a punching bag if it made her feel better. Any time I thought of her struggling to try on those ridiculous shoes made me sad; age may have wearied her bones but it had not altered her mind or her will. As much as I complained about her limitations on freedom, it suddenly occurred to me that maybe her restrictions stemmed from resentment. I didn’t know exactly what to do with that, but as far as her homecoming was concerned, I would try to mend the bridge with Nana. And the secret room? I wouldn’t dare go there.
Surprisingly, thinking about my situation in a different light brought a degree of comfort, and kept me from dwelling on Jack Baker, especially knowing I had to pass his terrace to get to my own; to see his bright red door and try not to think about who he might be entertaining on his terrace –
Kate, stop it! Quick – think about your nana who hates you and cheer up!
I delved into my purse for my house keys, willing myself to think of something, anything else, when I heard the screech of expensive tyres. Jack’s tyres. I was readying my clever salutation when I saw the woman in the passenger seat, waiting for Jack to make his way around and open the door for her. I dived inside the front gate of the neighbouring terrace, crouching behind a potted shrub and peering through the railing.
Jack looked dashing in a black tuxedo and bow tie, he would turn heads anywhere he went, but my eyes were drawn to the brunette at his side, the one he was smiling at and guiding up the steps of his terrace. She was an Amazonian supermodel; her hips swayed elegantly in her evening gown as she sashayed up the steps, her bloody delightful laughter rang out into the night air. Even from a distance I hated her, her and her fashionable, graceful splendour, following Jack into his house. I tried not to analyse my feelings, to avoid equating the unreasonable amount of rage I felt with jealousy. I didn’t want to admit it, couldn’t bear to even think about it as I stood up and walked through the terrace gate, squaring my shoulders and hoping that no one had seen me. I gripped my keys with white-knuckled intensity as I made quick, determined steps to my door, my focus solely on my door, not his. Not now, nor ever again.
A long, high-pitched ringing shunted me out of my sleep. I lifted my face from the mattress, alarmed, confused, wiping the drool from the side of my mouth.
I groaned, rolling onto my back and clasping at my temples, begging for the ringing to stop, until I realised it wasn’t in my head – it was coming from my purse.
‘Shit!’ I dived out of bed, reaching for my clutch. ‘Hello?’ I croaked into my phone.
‘Good morning!’ sing-songed Vera.
I cringed, pulling my phone from my ear to see it was just after 7 a.m. ‘Morning, Vera.’
‘I’m just on my way to pick up Joy. By all reports she’s doing just fine and is as cranky as ever.’
‘Oh, so back to normal then.’
‘Yes!’
I laughed. ‘I never thought I’d be so happy to hear it.’
‘Me too,’ said Vera. ‘So, listen, if there’s anything you have or want to do, we’ll probably be home in a little over an hour.’
There was one thing I wanted to do desperately – have a long, hot shower. ‘Thanks, Vera, I really appreciate everything you’ve done. What would I do without you?’
Vera scoffed. I could tell without even seeing her face that she would have gone a shade redder, embarrassed by my words.
‘All right, Vera, I better get moving. I’ll see you soon.’
I was a woman on a mission. I laid out my outfit for the day: a pleated grey twill skirt and a black-and-white floral-printed silk blouse, accompanied by my rounded black cross-body handbag with black-and-white-striped interior. I searched for my favourite pair of black suede peekaboo Davie heels to complete the
ensemble. I nodded, content with my choices, before continuing with my morning routine, which was going to be a severely shortened, given Nana’s imminent arrival.
I didn’t have time to blow-dry my hair, so rather than leave the house with half-wet, destined-for-frizzy hair, I braided it over my shoulder as I hopped down the stairs, finishing just as I reached the front door. I made my way outside, checking my watch to see I would have to make the quickest trip of my life and thinking that I hadn’t made the smartest choice in footwear. Still, at least I looked nice. Not that I was trying to impress anyone, including the person who lived behind the red door I had just passed, my heels clicking at high speed. I didn’t want to be reminded of my cringe-worthy behaviour last night, cowering in the shadows, watching Jack and his supermodel girlfriend come home. I closed my eyes, willing the memory, or rather nightmare, away as I turned the corner out of Onslow Gardens and towards Gloucester Road.
My few journeys outside the house had made me familiar with the landmarks of my neighbourhood. From the deep, rich red building of the Gloucester Road Tube Station, curving its way around the corner like a jewel in the street’s crown, to Flowers Inc, the dainty little flower shop next to it that seemed like an old-world relic tucked among the modern hustle and bustle of coffee shops filled with commuters. The flower shop was my first stop; I wanted a cheery bouquet to take back to the terrace to freshen up the front parlour. Then I had to slip across to the Tesco Express for last-minute supplies for Nana, namely tea and milk, and then duck into Paul, a little French patisserie, for a dark chocolate cake. The sheer volume of butter, sugar and rich cocoa that made up the cake no doubt made it a no-no for 78-year-olds, but this was a special occasion. With no time to spare, I juggled my flowers, shopping and cake box, weaving through locals and tourists down Gloucester Road toward home, hoping against hope that I didn’t run into Jack on the street – even if I could do with an extra pair of hands. Out of breath, I finally made it to the black-and-white tiled entrance of the terraced landing, all but falling into the foyer, both spent and relieved that I had made it. I dashed into the front parlour, dumping my cargo onto the low antique coffee table and kicking off my shoes.
‘God, that feels good,’ I groaned. No time to explore the damage of my blisters, I summoned enough energy for one final push. I straightened up the cushions on the couch, drew the curtains wide open and ran a tissue over the mantel for any wayward dust, finishing off with a spray of Bvlgari perfume around the room. As I went about sorting out the shopping and flowers, I remembered Nana’s bedroom and bathroom. I didn’t want it to seem like I had merely left everything and gone out to party (like I had), so I quickly made her bed and swept over the bathroom.
‘Right, good,’ I panted, clearly talking to myself. Maybe I shouldn’t be left alone for too long a period of time.
As if answering my fear, I heard the front door open and the unmistakable voices of Vera and Nana filtering through the doorway. I couldn’t lie, I was actually excited to see them, now realising how much I enjoyed having company, even if it was Nana’s.
I grabbed the vase displaying the most amazing colours: hyacinths, tulips, ranunculus and anemones.
‘Welcome home, Nana!’ I sing-songed as I walked down the hall, a smile spread broadly across my pink, shiny face, holding the flowers aloft like a thing of wonder. When I stood before her, my smile slowly fell from my face as I followed her eyeline all the way to …
Oh God.
‘Those are your shoes, I suppose.’
Her bony arms rested on the sides of her wheelchair, her scowl resting on my black heels that sat in the middle of the parlour where, in my haste, I had shucked them off.
‘You think that’s funny, do you?’
‘No, of course not, I just kicked them off before I went and got you these—’
‘Well, maybe I’ll try them on later, finish myself off next time.’
‘Joy,’ Vera interjected. ‘Don’t be sensitive. Kate didn’t put them there as any kind of joke.’
But it mattered little what Vera said, Nana looked at me with a very clear and unmistakable intent. She hated me and my shoes. I felt the same old misery coming back to me, like a dark cloud had descended over Onslow Gardens the minute she had been wheeled through the front door. I took the flowers into the parlour, feeling her steely gaze following my every step as I put them on the coffee table, twisting them so their best side showed. I swallowed, repeating to myself over and over again, ‘Don’t get upset, don’t let it show it’ while silently picking up my shoes.
‘There’s cake in the fridge, your favourite, the dark chocolate kind,’ I said, without waiting to see her response. I made my way to the stairs, feeling the tears well in my eyes. I was halfway up the stairs when I heard a knock followed by a familiar voice.
‘Morning, neighbours, anyone home?’
I turned to lock eyes with Jack, standing in the doorway, that familiar warmth emanating from him, and I was never so happy to see a friendly face, even if it did belong to him.
Chapter Fifteen
Despite insisting that he didn’t want to intrude and merely wanted to check in on the patient, Vera had already taken Jack’s coat and I had hurried down the stairs, ready to deadbolt the door behind him if I had to.
‘We have cake,’ I said, a touch desperately. ‘I was just about to get it. Do you want some cake?’
Jack, seeming unaffected by the attention of three doe-eyed females, looked at me, his brows high. ‘Cake for breakfast?’
I laughed, feeling my nervousness return as his amused stare questioned me. I shrugged. ‘Why not?’
Jack went to answer but his words were cut off.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Katherine, stop mooning over our visitor and leave the man be,’ Nana snapped, her words turning me a deeper shade of red, a mixture of rage and mortification. Nana’s ice-blue eyes lifted to Jack, her smile sickeningly sweet. ‘Jack, please do come in, come sit,’ she insisted.
Jack obliged, going into the formal lounge. Vera went to push Nana in behind him but Nana waved her away, annoyed, choosing to wheel herself in, suddenly Miss Independent. Vera and I looked at one another with a sigh as we followed her, ready to protect Jack in any way we could. Though, considering Nana’s swift change of mood since his arrival, Jack was most likely the last person who needed protecting.
‘Maybe he could stay forever,’ muttered Vera out the side of her mouth.
My answer was halted by a high-pitched laugh from Nana, who apparently found something Jack had said delightfully witty. The foreign sound caused Vera and I to flinch.
‘Maybe he could be her new carer?’ I whispered back, watching in astonishment.
‘If only, there would be peace on Earth.’
Jack glanced my way, winking before turning his full attention back to Nana, who was now blabbering; maybe that’s where I inherited that from.
I couldn’t help but smile, watching the scene before me, shaking my head. ‘Peace on Earth? I’d settle for Kensington.’
Something had changed, like the sun had appeared from behind the clouds. As I leant against the window pane of the parlour, my attention darting from Jack and Nana out to Jack’s parked car, I wondered where the Amazonian was. Was she still upstairs, stretched out on Jack’s bed, wearing one of his expensive shirts? My bitter thoughts were interrupted by Nana’s increasingly disturbing laughter. Jack’s eyes briefly locked with mine as he sipped from a dainty teacup, which looked utterly ridiculous in his large hands. He had nice hands: big, strong, manly … My mind began to drift again until Vera elbowed me, causing me to mentally jump back into the room.
‘Sorry, what?’ I stammered, surprised she had come to stand next to me.
Vera’s eyes were alight, ever watchful. ‘Oh, I never said a word,’ she said, taking pleasure in my awkwardness.
I folded my arms, unfolded them. Seemed like everyone was enjoying a cup of tea, maybe I needed to keep my own fumbling hands busy. I lifted my chin, and
with as much grace as I could muster, crossed the room to pour myself a cup of tea from the tray between Nana and Jack. I had visions of tripping, smashing china, scalding poor, defenceless Nana in her chair, ruining Jack’s pants; all manner of disasters rushed through my mind as I poured as carefully as I could. Not an easy feat when I could feel both Nana’s and Jack’s eyes on me, Nana’s words falling away as I approached, clearly interrupting the conversation. My instinct was to apologise for it but then I thought better of it, knowing it was a ploy of Nana’s to make me uncomfortable. When I glanced at her, I almost recoiled when I saw she was smiling sweetly at me.
Nana tapped the seat next to her. ‘Sit down, Katherine. I was just telling Jack all about you.’
I looked at the seat like it was booby trapped, glancing briefly at Vera, who watched on with suspicion as I slowly sat down. ‘Really? I hope you were being nice.’ I smiled weakly at Jack, who had edged forward in his seat with interest.
‘Joy was just telling me how you came to be in London.’
‘Oh.’ I nodded, suddenly relieved. There really wasn’t anything ground-breaking or interesting about it. I had always wanted to come to London, and after years of saving the meagre wage from my dead-end job, I was no closer to my dream – until Nana asked Mum for a ‘companion’ and here I was.
‘I said to Penny, my daughter, that I wouldn’t let just anyone stay in my house. I would have to trust them, find them to be a good-natured, reliable person. Not words you usually associate with the generation of today,’ Nana said, looking at me sideways. I was uneasy, worrying about where all these positive words were leading to until she finished her sentence. ‘But I am lucky to have found it in Katherine.’
I paused mid-sip, looking at Nana as if she was a stranger. Maybe it was the influence of Jack’s presence, but when she had said the words, I knew she had meant them. I could see it in the way she looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. My heart ached at the rare, and much-needed, moment of bonding. This was the first time she had ever said anything nice about me and I was so taken aback I could feel my eyes getting a little misty.
