She’s not going to talk to me. There is no point me being here. There is nothing I can do.
I look over my shoulder as Jakub pushes his way through the door.
I turn back to Nina, who hasn’t moved.
‘Well,’ I say, ‘it was really nice to meet you, Nina. My name is Bea. Maybe I’ll see you again.’
I push my hands into my chair to propel myself back to my feet, when Nina’s eyes click round to find me.
My stomach flips as Nina’s dark eyes fix on to mine. I look back at her, as if she’s magnetised me, and I feel a flash of emotion strike through my body.
Can she hear me?
Nina’s eyes stay locked on to mine and I blink back at her, paralysed.
‘You’re Bea?’
Her voice is low and earthy, and she has the light twang of a faded London accent. Her voice causes a surge of fear to race through my body as I keep my eyes fixed on hers.
Does she know?
I give a small nod, unable to speak.
At this, she moves her body away from the window so that she is facing me.
‘Nathan told me about you,’ she says, ‘he wrote to me and said you might visit. He told me about your letters.’
My heart stirs at the mention of the letters and flips over.
Nobody knows about the letters. I didn’t think anybody would ever know.
I swallow and try to keep my smile in place as my brain fizzes.
Nobody was supposed to know.
‘Hello?’
I jump as Jakub’s harsh voice hits my ears, and I suddenly realise that my body is shaking. I look round and see Jakub appear behind me. He looks from me to Nina, his face scrunched up like a used crisp packet.
‘What’s going on?’ he asks.
I stare back at him as my heart rate speeds up and my body locks itself to the chair. I open my mouth to speak but every word inside of me vanishes.
‘Bea is my Nathan’s girlfriend,’ Nina says proudly, ‘my grandson. She’s here to visit me.’
My face burns as I hear my lie pronounced in Nina’s soft voice. Jakub frowns back at me.
‘You know Nina?’ he asks.
I look at Nina’s smiling face and feel my head drop into a nod as guilt overwhelms me.
‘Yes,’ I say, my voice scratching out of my throat. ‘Nathan asked me to come.’
Jakub looks at me for a second and then at Nina.
‘Right,’ he says.
‘Do you want me to help with dinner?’ I ask, desperate not to drop back into the unnerving silence.
Jakub’s face breaks from confused back to his relaxed, bored expression.
‘Sure,’ he says, turning away from Nina and back towards the door, ‘it’s almost ready.’
I spring to my feet and follow him. As I walk away I make the mistake of looking back at Nina. Her small eyes are now round with hope as she gazes after me, and I feel guilt crawl up my body, grabbing hold of me by the throat.
What am I doing?
I never lie. I’ve never meant to lie. I didn’t think she’d know.
Nobody was supposed to know.
*
Jakub hands me a plate and raises his eyebrows at me.
‘Can you carry two?’ he asks.
I feel a stab of irritation.
Can I carry two? Of course I can carry two, I have two hands.
‘Yes,’ I say pointedly, sticking my free hand out.
Jakub hands me a second place and I grip the warm china and look down at the small pie and assortment of green vegetables. I glance up at the cupboard and notice stacks of bowls and plates.
Do they ever use that many?
Jakub pushes his way out of the kitchen and I follow him obediently, focusing on carrying the plates in the hope of it smothering the anxiety that has been gnawing at me for the last half an hour.
Ever since Nina recognised my name, I’ve felt a cold sense of numbness. I’m back on autopilot because I don’t know what else to do.
I don’t know how to fix this.
I follow Jakub down the corridor and through the door that leads back into the living room. Sylvia is now sitting up straight, her book neatly placed on the small table next to her and her green eyes watching us impatiently. Nina too is watching the door as we walk in, and to my horror I see her face light up as she spots me, as if she might have imagined the whole thing and seeing me again is confirmation that I am real.
Jakub walks straight over to Nina and pulls up a table to put her plate on. Awkwardly, I make my way over to Sylvia who eyes me as if I’m a teenage waiter serving her tea at the Ritz. I carefully put her plate down and turn to the sole male resident, the only person I haven’t said hello to. As I meet his eyes, I feel a spike of sudden warmth.
The man has a square face and large ears. His skin is pale, and indented with wrinkles that line his cheeks as though several birds have landed in wet concrete. His eyes are baggy and the top of his head is shining, completely hairless. He’s wearing a woollen, periwinkle-blue jumper that shrouds his padded body and is turned up around his wrists to free his small, plump hands.
I put the plate down in front of him, and almost jump as the man smiles at me.
‘Thank you very much,’ he says kindly, his mouth pulling apart to reveal several small teeth.
I look down at him, taken aback.
He’s the first person here to speak to me first.
‘That’s okay,’ I say, feeling a smile appear on my face.
He gestures to the seat next to him. I look back at Nina, and see that Jakub is still with her, and sink down into the mahogany chair.
The man leans forward, looking down at his meal, and then turns his grey eyes back to me. ‘I’m Gus,’ he says. ‘What’s your name?’
I look back at him, and to my alarm feel a sudden tug at the back of my throat at the kindness of his voice.
‘Bea,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m Bea.’
Gus nods as he picks up his knife and fork.
‘Oh yes,’ he says. ‘You’re a friend of Nina’s?’
The pie splits open under his fork and I try not to wince at his question.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘but I’m here to visit everyone.’
I glance back at Sylvia, but she’s not even pretending to listen.
Gus smiles again. ‘That’s nice,’ he says, ‘although I think Nina is very glad you’re here to visit her.’
I tuck my hands under my legs. ‘Really?’
Gus spears a piece of pie with his fork and nods.
‘Well,’ he says, ‘this is the first time she’s spoken in about five months.’
My eyes skirt back over to Nina, who is smiling and talking quietly to Jakub. My heart turns over as I stare back at Gus.
‘Is that when her daughter died?’ I ask.
Gus nods and swallows his mouthful.
My eyes move back to Nina and I suddenly feel a powerful tug towards her, as if there’s an invisible rope between us. She is smiling and talking to Jakub as she cuts up her dinner and I feel my entire body ache.
I can’t leave her.
‘But,’ Gus says, pulling my attention back towards him, ‘tell me about you. What do you do?’
I look back at him, my mouth dry.
‘About me?’ I repeat.
I feel a spasm of emotion shoot through me as Gus smiles.
Nobody ever wants to know about me.
Gus puts his fork down and smiles. ‘Yes,’ he says, ‘tell me about your day.’
I look back into his wide eyes, my heart spinning.
He leans forward, waiting for my answer.
‘Tell me how you are.’
*
I pull my jumper further over my hands and stick the damp sleeve in my mouth, my teeth grinding into the cuff of my jumper as if I’m a teething infant.
I turn a corner as I reach our road. The street light flickers yellow, like a fresh egg yolk, as I steer my cold legs down our street.
I didn’t
leave Sunfields until gone nine, way past my schedule. But when I was there, I didn’t notice my schedule slip by. I didn’t even notice the time. I spoke to Gus, and then I spoke to Nina. At one point, we were all sitting around and even Jakub was joining in. I don’t even know what we were talking about. But I remember I went from feeling burning heat searing at my skin, to feeling warm.
And light.
I reach my front door and pull out my keys. As predicted, the entire house is coated in darkness and only the slight flicker of light from Priya’s bedroom signals any life inside at all.
As I left Nina, the light inside me began to weaken as the cold, dark feeling of fear crept over me.
Nina knows about the letters.
She thinks I’m B.
That was never supposed to happen. I never meant for it to go this far.
I spot Joy standing in her front garden, her craned head visible in a bright stream of light that pools out of her kitchen window.
She is squinting at me in concern.
My face quickly contorts itself back into a smile and I hold up my hand to wave.
How long has she been stood there? What is she doing?
I flash her another look, trying to satisfy her curiosity as I attempt to smother the sizzle of irritation that zaps through me as Joy stands there motionless.
I am so sick of her spying on me all the time. Hasn’t she got anything better to do? What does she want?
I wriggle my door key free and jab it in the lock, when I hear Joy’s front door click open. I fight the urge to roll my eyes as I consider pretending I haven’t seen her and slipping inside.
‘Bea? Is that you?’
I stand, frozen for a second, before turning to face her.
‘Hi, Joy,’ I say quietly, my voice echoing down the street.
I go to step inside my house when Joy’s voice lures me back.
‘I’ve got something for you.’
A hot strike of fear jolts through me and I turn to face her. She looks back at me, her eyes wide.
Another letter?
I turn on the spot and walk towards her house, trying to keep my smile in place.
How has he written back so quickly? He usually takes a week, five days tops. I sent my last letter two days ago.
I reach Joy’s door and she smiles at me.
‘You’re back late,’ Joy says, peering at me. ‘Have you been anywhere nice?’
I look back at her, my eyes twitching as I try to suppress the rising sense of panic.
‘No,’ I say, ‘just out. Do I have another letter?’
Joy pauses for a second, and then nods.
‘Yes,’ she says, ‘it arrived this morning. I would have given it to Priya, but I didn’t see her.’
‘Don’t!’ I snap, the word firing out of my mouth before I can stop it. ‘Please,’ I add, ‘please, only give these letters to me, Joy. If that’s okay? They’re private.’
I break off, my chest straining under the weight of my thick, suffocating jumper. I stare into Joy’s eyes, trying to look normal as I feel the creature claw its way up my throat.
She can’t give these letters to Emma or Priya. They can’t know. They can’t know what I’ve done.
They can’t know what I’m still doing.
Joy steps back and picks up the letter, which is sitting on a small table, where her post always sits.
‘Of course,’ she says calmly, as she hands the letter to me, ‘that’s not a problem at all. I know how new romances like to be kept a secret.’
Her eyes sparkle at the word ‘romances’ and I try not to flinch.
‘Great,’ I mutter, ‘thanks, Joy.’
Before I give Joy the chance to respond, I turn on my heel and run back towards my house, the letter held tightly to my chest. As I reach the front door, I look back at Joy who is still watching me and I feel a pang of guilt, which I quickly shake off.
I can’t worry about Joy. She is not my problem.
I feel my shoulders sink in defeat as, alone in the darkness, the creature inside me reaches up and rakes its claws down my body.
I have enough problems of my own.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I knock on Joy’s door lightly, glancing over my shoulder as Priya chugs down the street in Emma’s Renault Clio. Within seconds, the door swings open. Today, Joy is wearing a pearly grey cardigan, buttoned all the way to the top, with a matching skirt.
Her expression moves from confused to delighted, and her familiar smile lights up her face.
‘Good morning, Bea,’ she says, looking over my shoulder, ‘this is a nice surprise. I never normally see you in the mornings. You know, the post hasn’t arrived yet.’
I smile back.
07.40: pop in to apologise to Joy.
‘I know,’ I say back, feeling a pang in the back of my chest, ‘I wanted to apologise for the other day.’ I try to look into her brown eyes but my eyes automatically dart away. ‘I was really tired and a bit . . . err . . . stressed.’
I feel my hands jolt as they turn my letter between them, as heat burns up my neck.
I barely slept that night. Once I had managed to smother the roaring anxiety about Nina, a fresh wave of guilt poured over me about Joy.
I should never be rude to her. She is only trying to help.
‘That’s okay,’ Joy says politely, ‘I know how stressful it must be, being a working girl.’ She smiles kindly and I feel myself relax.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘Would you like to come in?’ she asks, stepping back and gesturing inside her house. My fingers grip tightly on to the letter as my mind counts the time.
07.46-ish. I think I’ve been stood here for two minutes, maybe three. My bus leaves at 07.55. It takes five minutes to walk to the bus stop.
‘I can’t,’ I say. ‘Sorry. I’ve got to get to work. But I’ll pop by this evening?’
Joy nods. ‘Oh yes,’ she says, ‘it’s Thursday, isn’t it?’
I feel a wave of relief.
Although I’ve never told Joy my schedule, she knows it to a tee. I come round every Thursday after work, usually for dinner. It’s been that way for the last two years, and she always sticks to it. We both do.
‘Yeah,’ I say, ‘also, I wondered if you . . .’ I hold the letter out, guilt squirming through my chest again as Joy’s eyes flick down to my hands. She pauses for a second, her kind smile unwavering.
‘Oh, of course,’ Joy coos, taking the letter out of my clammy hands. ‘I can post it for you today.’ She glances down at the right-hand corner and smiles. ‘Oh, another love letter, is it?’
She beams at me and I try to control my burning face as my heart races in my throat. I glance behind to check that Priya and Emma are out of sight, even though Emma didn’t stay here last night and I just watched Priya leave.
‘Yes,’ I say in a small voice, ‘but please don’t—’
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Joy says, tucking the letter behind her, ‘don’t worry. It can be our little secret.’
I nod as I watch the letter disappear behind her back. I ripped Nathan’s latest letter open as soon as I got inside, and wrote one back straight away. I told him all about Nina, and how she was, and all about how she made me feel.
I promised I would take care of her.
I promised myself too.
She needs me.
‘Right,’ I say, trying to sound normal, ‘I’d better go to work then. Thank you,’ I add, as I turn away, ‘I’ll buy you some stamps.’
Joy shakes her head as I walk down the drive. ‘Don’t be silly. I think I’ll make us a casserole later.’
As I catch Joy’s kind eyes, I feel the weight lodged in my throat loosen.
‘Thank you,’ I say earnestly, ‘that sounds great.’
*
‘Bea?’
I jerk forward out of my seat, ripping my thoughts away from Sunfields and the comforting image of Nina playing Scrabble.
Do old people like Scrabble? Or
is that just a stereotype?
I don’t want to offend her.
Maybe she’d prefer Boggle.
‘Bea?’
I look up at Duncan, who has now managed to stride across the office to my sad, grey desk.
As we have this hot-desk policy, it means that my desk is always empty, aside from a mug of old tea and my sad-looking pencil case.
Faye did once buy me a plant as a ‘gift’ but it died the next day. She then asked whether or not I thought it was a symbol for something else that was withering.
Like my love life.
‘Yeah?’
Duncan leans his soft elbows on the thin wall.
‘How are you getting on with the beaver?’ he says jovially, his mouth stretching to reveal his large, perfectly formed teeth. ‘I think Angela would like to include it in next week’s issue. Make it a hot topic, you know?’
I feel each vertebra bend as I cringe forward in my seat.
A hot beaver? Gross.
‘Err,’ I mumble, ‘yeah, that’s fine.’
I see a flash of joy spark over Duncan’s round face.
‘Excellent!’ he booms. ‘I realised this morning that I hadn’t passed on the number for the couple. They’re expecting your call.’
He pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and I stare at it dubiously.
How does he know these people? Are they two randomers he met at the pub?
I look down at the slightly yellow scrap and try to smile.
‘Great,’ I say, ‘thank you.’
I look back up at Duncan, who is still towering over me, grinning.
Is that it? What does he want?
I pull my smile wider and raise my eyebrows at Duncan. His watery eyes flick down to the piece of paper and then back up at me and I feel a quiet tingle of panic.
He doesn’t want me to call them now, does he?
‘Now?’ I say, my voice unusually high.
My question seems to break Duncan from his weird fantasy.
‘Oh!’ he says. ‘Yeah, go on, then. Why not?’
I try not to roll my eyes.
Oh, great. So he didn’t want me to call them right this second, he was just being weird. And now I’ve put the idea in his head, so he’s going to stand there and loom over me while I talk to a woman I’ve never spoken to before about her erratic beaver.
Well done me. Great.
My limp hand reaches forward and I pick up my office phone, which has a light layer of dust skimmed across it like old icing sugar.
The Accidental Love Letter Page 13
