by Sarah Till
“Anything else we should know, Clem?”
I shook my head.
“I don't think so. I really think we should check though before we go rushing round there.”
Mum actually smiled.
“Well, there's that to consider but also the fact that she must have been kept there against her will. I can't really see how this chap you mentioned would be seeing her if she was being held captive. I mean, she must have been, mustn't she, George? Otherwise, she would have come home. Or at least contacted us. Like that girl in America. Held for eighteen years. Oh, my God, I hope they haven't harmed her.”
Mum's hand went to her mouth and she gasped theatrically. Dad caught my eye and shook his head. As usual the situation was getting out of hand, with Mum projecting her imagination onto something that was actually completely different. Dad rescued the situation.
“Look, lets sleep on it and wait until tomorrow. I'll get in touch with the police and they can advise us. Who is this chap, anyway? Is he a friend of yours?”
My mind filled with the remembrance of Tim's hands working my flesh and his tongue flicking my ear lobes.
“Yep. A friend. Actually, he doesn't know I've got these photographs. So, I don’t really want him involved in this. It's family business at this stage, isn't it?”
They stared at me for a moment than nodded in unison. Mum smiled again. It seemed difficult for her, as if she was out of practice.
“Oh well. I'm sure you'll meet someone soon, Clem. But it looks like I'll get my grandchild after all. I was starting to give up on you.”
I knew at some point she would get onto the subject of my love drought. I nearly shouted out all the details of my night with Tim, just to prove the lengths I would go to to find my sister. Good old Charlotte, here she was again. We didn't even know if it was actually her and she had already promised a granddaughter. I wondered what else she would have. Tim had told me she had been married and had her own house. I wondered what job she did. Was she a teacher or an executive? All those foreign holidays, they couldn't have been cheap. Tim couldn't have afforded them on his own. Of course, she would have maintenance from Amy's father who Tim mentioned she stayed with every weekend. I suddenly realised that I was staring into space, lost in my thoughts, holding a plastic bag with hair in it. Mum and Dad looked at me expectantly.
“Oh, I nearly forgot. In case there's any problem with going round because of Amy...”
Mum repeated the name.
“Amy.”
“As I was saying, in case we can't go round, I got some of her hair in case the police want to compare it to the hair from Charlotte's hairbrush.”
They were both frowning now and Dad sat back. We were in it for the long haul.
“Where did you get that hair from? Clementine? This is beginning to sound not quite right. Where would you get hair from?”
“Well. I borrowed my friend’s hat that she had been wearing before.”
“Your friend's hat? Under what circumstances?”
“I met him in the park and I got my hand stuck down a grid. He lent me his hat because I was cold.”
Dad sighed.
“This isn’t like your imaginary friend, is it, Clem? You didn't download those pictures from the internet, did you? This isn't a pretend story, is it?”
I cringed with embarrassment. As a child I'd been known to embellish the truth somewhat.
“No, Dad. OK. I went on a date with Tim, Caroline's ex. Or Charlotte, if it is her. He approached me in a club because I looked like Caroline.”
Mum's concentrated look intensified.
“And does he think Caroline is Charlotte?”
“Oh. He doesn't even know I have a sister. I don't know him that well.”
“So, how did you get the pictures?”
“I took them from his bedroom.”
They looked at each other now. Mum nodded at Dad and he looked at his hands.
“So, you were in the bedroom of a boy you hardly know?”
“Dad, I'm thirty-two.”
“We've been worried about you, Clem. You fall too easily for these chaps. It's from one to the other, like a bee to honey. Having them staying at your house and everything.”
Mum's hand tightened around Dad’s and her nails dug into his skin.
“Yes, Dad and I have wondered why you didn't settle down and have children. At first, we thought you were gay. You know. Well, you can't blame us, on your own all the time.”
“You just said I was always with a different bloke. Now you're saying I'm on my own. Make your bloody mind up.”
“Clementine!” The formality was back. “Language! All we're saying is that you should find a nice man and settle down and have a child like Charlotte probably has.”
I couldn't believe it. It was fucking starting all over again. We hadn't event walked up her bloody drive and knocked on her door and I was having comparisons thrown at me. Why can't you be good at maths like Charlotte? Why can't you concentrate like Charlotte? Why can't you play guitar like Charlotte? It turns out she probably had under-age sex and ran away to give birth but even that seems more acceptable to my parents than my life. I got up to leave.
“I'll be back tomorrow night. Dad, will you let me know what the police say? Don’t forget, I don't want my friend involved, OK? And Mum, try to relax.”
No one was listening. Their minds were already careering down the avalanche of possibilities raised by the scant information I'd provided and a few photographs of someone none of us now knew.
Chapter Fourteen
I clambered into my car and sat with my hands clutching the steering wheel. I'd practically run from the house but not before Mum had become even more animated and hugged me. It was a moment I'd wished for in an array of situations, but when it had happened it felt awkward and inappropriate. Actually, it had been me who felt awkward and inappropriate. My plan had been to not mention Tim and not to explain where I’d got the photographs from. In fact, keep the two completely separate. Caroline and Charlotte. Separate. I was staring at my white knuckles when my phone rang. Tim's name flashed on the small screen. I was sorely tempted not to answer it and ring him back when I got home, but after eight rings, I relented.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Clementine. It's Tim. I said I'd ring and I have. How was the rest of your day?”
I stared ahead.
“We agreed you would call me tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow in Australia. I just wanted to speak to you, gorgeous.”
My mind raced over the possibility that he had often called Caroline gorgeous, and it was just a habit. I also acknowledged that it felt good and sunshine and lollipops faded in.
“Hmm. So it is. So?”
“So, I wondered if you were free tomorrow night?”
I considered his question carefully. I could hardly tell him that I wasn't free tomorrow because I planned to stalk his ex-girlfriend. Same on Tuesday, except this time with my parents.
“Not really. Busy Tuesday as well. Maybe Wednesday?”
“I really need to see you, Clementine.”
It was true that tomorrow I only wanted to see where Caroline lived, to see if I could find the house number to give to my parents.
“OK. Tomorrow around nine. Where shall we meet?”
“I was hoping you'd invite me round to yours.”
“I've got someone staying with me at the moment.”
“Oh. Who's that then? Anyone I know?”
“Yes, actually. It's Jenni, my friend from the club.”
Tim laughed.
“I was beginning to think she was a figment of my imagination when she didn't turn up the other night. I can bring Arthur tomorrow.”
“No. She's not available. I mean, she's tied up. She’s got some of her relatives staying as well. Two of them. They like it quiet in the evenings.”
“OK. Sounds mysterious but I'll go with it. How about you come over to mine?”
The flickering TV. T
im's grinning, silent mother. On the other hand, another chance to look for clues.
“OK then.”
It came out a little brighter than I'd expected.
“Shall we say nine at mine?”
He laughed at his joke and I laughed a little, too. My head felt light and butterflies fluttered in my stomach, whispering, 'You're falling for him'.
“See you tomorrow, then.”
“Bye, gorgeous.”
He was gone. I started the engine and drove home. Once in the house, I surveyed the damage, which was surprisingly little. Jenni had clearly tidied up and it was almost as if I were here alone again. I tiptoed upstairs to check if they were still there and peeped through the slightly open door. The room seemed warm and lit by an amber glow as Jenni slept in the double bed with both children. I could smell the vaguely familiar scent of Johnson's baby powder and the sweet-smelling wax that Jenni's hair always effused. It suddenly struck me that it could be me lying here with my own children in a few years’ time. It could be my family. I shut the door and went back downstairs. After several cups of tea and another sort through the photographs, I went up to bed. Hanging my coat in the closet, I fumbled in the pocket for the lucky penny. Finding it, I placed it on the dresser and suddenly thought of Liam. The thought lingered until I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke early to hear Samantha shouting through my closed door.
“Get up, Aunty Clem. There's a present here for you.”
I blinked a little and pushed my quilt to the floor.
“OK. I'm coming. I half expected the present to be the kind of present Charlotte and I used to make for Mum on weekend mornings. Warm tap water coffee, jam sandwiches, cereal swamped in milk and a flower picked from the garden, complete with ants. I chucked a little and hurried downstairs. Jenni, Samantha and Jacob stood lined up by a huge bouquet of flowers.
“Oh, Jenni, you shouldn't have. You've got enough to spend your money on.”
“I didn't, girl. No, no, not me, Clem, baby. They arrived about five minutes ago.”
I plucked the card from the middle of the blooms.
It read, 'Hope your hand is better and the penny brings you luck. xx' Tim really was trying hard. Jenni was onto it and fished for information.
“They're beautiful. Who are they from?”
“Tim. They're from Tim. He really likes me, Jenn. He called me again last night and I'm meeting him tonight to see if we can work something out.” She looked at the children and I knew that if they hadn't been there, she would have emitted a string of expletives. Instead, she folded her arms and sucked her teeth. “I know. But he's OK for now. I might as well make the most of it until I do find someone else.”
We were alone now as the children had run into the lounge to play.
“A fuck-buddy? Oh, my fucking god. Clem, there's no such thing for a woman. We get attached. We always start off thinking we can handle it but then, when he doesn't phone or he sees someone else, we're gutted. No, Clem. Please don’t go to him. I don’t know what he wants from you but it's not you. The guy's demented with grief.”
“Well maybe I want a little fun for a change. I do fancy him and I know there's no future in it but I might just want to have sex with him. Isn’t that allowed? Can’t I have some fun?”
“Of course you can. But don't lie to yourself. You're doing this because of that fucking list and a penny. And because you think you've found your sister. You're getting involved with someone who can't love you back.”
I surprised myself by starting to cry.
“Why can't he love me? Am I so bad, so bloody neurotic? What's so wrong with me?”
Jenni sighed.
“Oh, Clem, girl, nothing’s wrong with you. You're amazing. He can't love you because he still loves Caroline. He's still in love with someone else.”
“So, why the flowers? And why does he want to see me?”
“Distraction, girl. He wants to distract himself from thinking about her. I know, Clem, baby. I've been there.”
I fingered a petal and it came away in my hands. It was so fragile, like me and my ideas about luck and fate. For a moment, I had a terrible feeling I was wrong, and the list was an excuse for me to never be with anyone. A list of standards to measure my idea of perfection. Merely a measure of the time I'd waited for someone special to find me.
“I'm getting a shower. I'll see you later.”
I left Jenni in the kitchen drinking coffee and went upstairs and showered. When I returned, dressed for another day at menstruation-is-us she and the children had left for school. I felt slightly guilty, as if I was doing the wrong thing by even thinking about Tim. Yet inside I was looking forward to seeing him. After all, he wouldn’t keep calling me if he didn’t want to see me, would he?
I drove to work and parked about half a mile away. I enjoyed walking the rest of the way, the click of my heels on the pavements, and again, for the second Monday morning in a row, sunshine, lollipops and everything that’s wonderful. I thought about Jenni as I walked and how her life must have been terribly hard, with her separation and having the children to care for. I tutted to myself and counted the lucky pennies in my mind. Surely, I was due a bit of luck? Maybe this situation with Charlotte would turn out just fine and we would all live happily ever after. Tim would focus his full attention on me and forget about Caroline. I stopped in my tracks. The terrible thought struck me suddenly: what if both situations did turn out absolutely perfectly? That Caroline was Charlotte and I ended up with Tim? That would mean that Tim’s ex, my sister, would be in our lives forever. Shit. Although he had mentioned that she had someone else. We wouldn’t need to spend too much time with them. My imagination fast-forwarded to my wedding. Up until now, my mental picture of my day had two missing figures: the groom and the chief bridesmaid. Charlotte and I had promised we would be each other’s chief bridesmaid and I’d never really had a firm enough friend to consider. Now I placed cardboard-cut-out Tim as the groom and Charlotte as the maid of honour. I tried replacing her with Jenni and it still worked. Then I felt guilty and put her back. Then I tried to see what dress I had decided on, but the picture dissolved into reality as I reached the office.
I took the lift and strode into the office. Johnny was already at his desk with his office door shut and I tried to avoid looking at him. I couldn’t however, avoid his manic hand waving for long. I flicked on my screen and signed into my email account so my boss knew I was in, and sauntered over to Johnny’s office. He jumped out of his seat, pulled up a chair for me and shut the door. His brow set into a deep frown as he sat down and pressed his fingers together like a spider on a mirror.
“Hello, Johnny. You OK?”
He paused for a moment, then breathed in deeply before speaking.
“Yes, I’m fine. I was thinking about the weekend and being at your house. And what happened to you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yes. Being there like that made me realise something.”
“Right. What did it make you realise? If it’s about me then I must tell you I’ve decided to see Tim.”
“Oh. I thought he was...”
“...a nutter? Well, I was shocked. I hadn’t really thought about what he must be going through. Anyway, I saw him yesterday and we talked.”
“What about? Your sister? Do you still think it’s her in the photographs?”
“Well, I took them to my parents and they definitely think it is. We’re asking the police for advice.” I didn’t tell him I was launching my own mini-investigation after work.
“I hope it’s successful and it’s her, Clem, I really do. But I have to ask you something.” He stared at his desk. “It’s very serious.”
I gulped.
“Look, Johnny, I like you as a friend but I’m with Tim now. I’m afraid I can’t see you. I’m sorry.”
“No. No, Clem. You’ve got it wrong. It’s not you I’m interested in. It’s Jenni. It’s always been Jenni.”
The revelation hit me like a
ton of bricks. I'd been so vain that I'd presumed he fancied me. All the time, he had been trying to get near my friend. All the talk about ‘a friend’ was actually about a friend.
“Jenni?”
“Yes. I’ve been attracted to her from the first minute I saw her. She’s gorgeous. I think I’m in love with her, Clem. I can’t eat or sleep for thinking about her.”
I panicked a little. I just couldn’t picture Jenni with Johnny. She always went for the good-looking, hard-drinking, lithe boys in the club. Johnny was chunkier and a little bit clumsy. In a nice way. Not Jenni’s type. I remembered Samantha and Jacob and panicked more.
“But don’t you know she’s got erm...”
“Clem, please don’t say baggage.” He interrupted me before I could utter the words.
“I just mean that she’s got children. I mean, you’re here with your good job and big salary and she’s practically homeless. Are you sure you match?”
He stared at me for a moment.
“Match? This isn’t a game of snap, Clem. What does match mean? So, are you telling me that we must have the same income level to go out with each other?”
“No. No. It’s just that, well, you could probably get any woman you wanted. You know, start a family, settle down. From scratch, without having to worry about other stuff.”
He snorted his derision.
“Right. I see. So, because she’s got kids, she’s a second-class citizen? What sort of a friend are you, Clem? Those children are little people, you know. It’s not their fault their parents split up. I like Jenni, I really like her. I’m fully aware she’s got two lovely children and it really doesn’t bother me. Fucking hell, Clem, what is wrong with you?”
I was beginning to wonder what was wrong with me. I hadn’t meant it to come out like that, but I couldn’t help wondering what he saw in her. Sure, she was beautiful and I was the first to leap to her defence if anyone criticised her. Even so, she had commitments. She wouldn’t be able to devote time to Johnny, to see him, to go out with him. He could easily find someone who was free. Someone like me, who had taken care not to have children until I found the right man. Who ticks my boxes. If I admitted it to myself, it was confusing that Johnny had chosen Jenni over me.
