The Waiting List (Strong Women Book 5)

by Sarah Till

  By the time my train of thought had taken me to this conclusion over and over, I'd driven home. I still expected to turn the key in the door and hear Jenni's laughter and the children’s singing. It was completely silent. I flicked on the TV but stayed in the kitchen. The cupboards were bare save for a few tins of Aphabetti spaghetti. I quickly changed into jeans and jumper and a waterproof jacket and grabbed my car keys. I would have fish and chips! I hadn’t eaten for days and felt hollow from grief and anxiety. A rumble inside hurried me along and in no time I was back in my car with a steaming parcel of chips and battered cod.

  I drove back up the main road and at the end of my street I carried on. Up and over the bridge, about two miles on, left at the roundabout. Left again, then right. Onto Carlisle Crescent. I parked up and pulled up the hood of my jacket. Pushing my seat back a little, I ate my fish and chips greedily, keeping one eye on the door of number four as I licked my fingers after every mouthful. I finished up and threw the vinegary paper onto the floor. It was around seven and I questioned my motives for being there.

  Since last night and my terminal argument with Tim, the reality of Charlotte had continued to play on my mind. Despite my reservations about her return to our lives, I felt a morbid curiosity. I practised saying 'my sister' quietly, as this was something I had more or less banned myself from uttering since she went away. Would we call her Caroline or Charlotte? Would she be welcoming, telling us the reason she hadn’t contacted us had been based on fear? Would she tell us she was ashamed of having a child at sixteen, hence her running away? Would she ask us to forgive her? Would Tim just keep quiet and pretend he never knew me? Had he already told her about his dalliance whilst they were apart?

  The door to number four opened and Caroline looked down the road towards my car. I crouched down as far as I could but I could see her walk to the end of her path. She stood for a while, thin and angular in a knitted dress, her hair drawn back into a ponytail, the way I'd seen it in so many pictures of her and Tim. She wore a jet necklace, chunky enough for me to see from the car. I could soon see the object of her attention. Tim walked up the road and, when he saw her, ran into her arms. Like some kind of mega-romantic chick-flick drama, they met mid-run and he swung her round in the air. They kissed long and hard, his arms enveloping her. He released her and I could see his grin. As she turned, I saw him look up and down the road and his gaze rest on my car.

  I lay backwards in the seat and closed my eyes. Seconds later, I opened them and expected him to be staring into the car through the side window. He was gone. The door to number four was closed and the lights were turned down. I fidgeted for a while then got out of the car to stretch my legs. I walked halfway up to the road and back again. Then I walked back towards the house. Thinking I saw the door open, I ran into the garden and hid behind a conifer. Crouched down, I could just about see into the lounge. Tim sat on the sofa and Caroline sat at the other end with her feet over his legs. They were both watching TV and laughing. I was mesmerised as his hands rubbed her feet.

  I sat back a little, further back behind the evergreen, in case anyone could see me from the road. Most of the curtains in Carlisle Crescent were closed or the houses were in darkness. I could see another family in the distance opposite, three children laughing and playing, the mother and father sitting at the table. My hands were cold and I tucked them inside the sleeves of my coat. I glanced back at Tim. He was rocking with laughter, and every so often he looked at her. She was quiet now and rested her head on the sofa. They looked like any other couple who had been together a long time, comfortable in each other's company. Except most couples didn't have an ex-girlfriend, if I even qualified for that, time-wise, hiding in the bushes outside their houses.

  Tim moved her feet and got up. I held my breath and waited for the door to open. It didn't and moments later he returned with two cups of steaming liquid. They sat on the edge of the sofa and drunk it, looking at each other and licking their lips. I could almost taste it. Hot chocolate. Exactly the same as I had with him that first night. Exactly the way he had sat and licked his lips, looking expectantly at me to do the same. I felt a fool. It was really obvious that, even from the first date, he had imagined that I was Caroline. He had played out his want for her with me, releasing him from his pain. Losing her had driven him a little insane. Just a little bit crazy. Made him look for a substitute, a replacement near miss that turned out to be not good enough.

  They finished their chocolate and it was time for a snuggle. His arms went around her and he held her tight. I could feel his hands on my back. They rocked backwards and forwards and looked like they were singing to each other. I smirked at how silly they looked, how tight he held her, as if he was scared of letting her go. How she sang into the air and pulled a strange face. Then I remembered that I was sitting on a lawn, hiding behind a tree, shivering, with my nose was running. Cramp bit into my leg and I thought about crawling away until I realised that they would probably see me from where they were sitting.

  I waited a full hour, through the kissing and the cuddling and the touching and the feeling, Through Caroline pulling her jumper over her head to reveal a red bra. Through Tim's glee, as if he was opening an early Christmas present. Through them dragging each other upstairs and the lounge light going off, the bedroom light going on and staying on for a while, the shadows against the voile telling their own story. Then I crept away slowly, looking back as I heard her squeal, even through the double-glazing. I crawled over the grass close to the ground, feeling my way in the darkness of the undergrowth. Just as I reached the path, I saw something gleaming in the grass. It was almost cruel. A brand-new penny, shiny and inviting me to pick it up. And all the day I'll have good luck.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Friday morning was spent in a deep depression. I’d arrived home the night before and I had showered. A long, hot shower that was meant to wash away the last of Tim. Any trace DNA of his that remained would be gone. I stood there silently for forty minutes and mulled over how pleased Lenny would be if he could see me now. Lenny. I'd gone out with him for months and months but had never been so obsessed as I was with Timmy. Bloody Timmy. It seemed an age ago that I'd been outraged by Lenny’s insensitive remarks about my garden. I could never have guessed that less than two weeks later I would be feeling a grief much stronger for someone I hardly knew. I scrubbed at my body, my nipples, my neck, between my legs, anywhere he had touched. I brushed my teeth until they bled and even scrubbed under my nails - I'd scratched them down his back at some point and I needed to get rid of the dead skin cells.

  Wrapped in a towel, I scurried downstairs and grabbed the pictures of Caroline and the unread letters. I was sorely tempted to read them, to see if any of her rounded handwriting whispered her love for Tim. Rounded because she was Charlotte. She could change her hair and her shape, even the colour of her eyes but she couldn't change her writing. Even so, I didn't look at the letters. I took a freezer bag with a resealable top and popped them in. The photographs, an ever-smiling Tim and a smug-looking Caroline, into the freezer bag with the other photographs. Then the hat. I picked it up and inspected it. No blonde hair left. Wait, there were some dark curly hairs deeply embedded in the pile. I took my tweezers and plucked out every single hair. Placing them on a piece of paper, I took some Sellotape and stuck them down. They too went into the bag. I sniggered at the thought of the Caroshrine missing part of itself, then realised that I now had my own little memorial to Tim. The hair, the stolen photos. A Timorial. Now for the lists.

  I held my breath as I took the typed list and pushed it beneath the semi-opaque plastic sheet of the redundant pile. The redundant lists nearly filled the folder and it looked like a small split was starting to appear on the side. My heart fell and I wondered if I should give up on the lists altogether. It seemed a shame, now that I'd redesigned it and widened my net to take in those men who had children and ex-wives. I snapped it shut and put it back in the bigger folder, pushing it into the bott
om drawer of the freezer with the Timorial.

  I'd gone to bed, exhausted yet more at peace now I knew it was finally over with Tim. I slept a drugged sleep, undreaming and taut under a light duvet. Now I was at my desk wondering how I could escape from my date with Liam. I hadn't heard from Jenni since she had left and I hadn't had a chance to talk to Johnny. He looked very happy, so I assumed it was all going well. I wanted to ask how the children were, but I knew Jenni would call sooner or later. It was just a matter of time before she would start to wonder about my catastrophic love life.

  My depression lasted until four thirty, when it was quickly turned around by the biggest bunch of red roses I'd ever seen. My hopes went immediately to Tim, but I knew they were from Liam. It was disappointing when the card revealed his name.

  ‘Looking forward to tonight, Clemintine'

  A stab of irritation stuck into me as I realised he had spelled my name wrong. Even so, I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop me looking delighted in front of my colleagues. The girls gathered round to stare at the huge bouquet and I preened in front of it.

  “Oh, no. I haven't even been on a date with him yet!”

  “What's that? Yes, he is gorgeous as well as loaded.”

  I scooped up the blooms and sashayed out to the car park. Once out of view, I threw them into the car and drove home. I relented a little when I got there. It wasn’t the flowers fault that the sender didn’t tick my boxes. Yet, I couldn't help thinking about those blue eyes with the little crinkles when he smiled.

  I reluctantly ran a bath and when it was ready I got in and lay there until it went cold and I had to get out. I felt at a loose end now. It would take me very little time to get ready and as we were going to eat I didn’t cook myself dinner. I looked down at my stomach and it seemed flatter than before. I hadn’t been eating as much as I'd been so focused on Tim and Charlotte. I couldn't bear to think about tomorrow and my parents. As if my life hadn’t changed enough already, another cog in the wheel was about to click over as my sister came back into my life. I felt sulky and miserable every time I thought about Mum and Dad spending Christmas with her and Tim and Amy; a perfect little family set up. This time, I imagined myself as the mad, alcoholic, spinster sister who laughed manically at everything and went outside every ten minutes for a cigarette. Charlotte would tell Amy to keep away from me because ‘You don’t want to end up like Aunty Clem.’

  I put it out of my mind and forced myself to get ready. I hadn’t washed my hair and my skin looked sallow and dull. I pulled on some leggings and a flowery overdress, then realised I'd worn it for work. I rubbed on some blusher and applied some mascara. I didn’t smile at the results. Once again, I contemplated cancelling but caught sight of the roses resting in the sink as I skipped downstairs. The house was so full of flowers that there was physically no room for them. It seemed a shame to leave them there, so I took them into my bedroom in the washing up bowl. When I’d return home alone later, they would be here to greet me, to keep me company.

  I nearly decided to drive and not drink at all. At the last moment, I felt a little bit sorry for Liam and called a taxi. The way things were going, it would be more like a business meeting than a date. I checked myself again as I slid on my flat ballet pumps and chose my dressy Jimmy Choos that I'd worn only twice. I knew they made my legs look long and slender and, after all, I was going to Romano’s. People there were used to me looking ultra-perfect and super-sexy.

  The taxi arrived and I felt terrified. I grabbed my bag and jumped in. Suddenly feeling underdressed, I almost turned back. Then I remembered that Liam had never seen me dressed up. In fact, he'd only ever seen me distressed and sweaty with my hand stuck in a grid. I smiled a little. I must have made a very good first impression. He certainly was making the effort. I touched my slightly greasy hair and wished I'd washed it now. It was too late, and, as the taxi neared the club, I started to feel nervous. Would Liam be dressed up to the nines and I would be casual? Would I even recognise him? I kind of remembered what he looked like but now I wasn't sure. Then it struck me. Would Tim and Caroline be there?

  I felt sick and started to shake. The taxi stopped and I paid quickly. It was still early and I got out of the taxi and spotted Liam immediately. He stood leaning against the door looking cool in blue jeans and a blue and cream striped shirt. I exhaled quickly. At least I wouldn't look like a tramp. He smiled as I walked towards him. As I got closer, his smile faded slightly. I beamed happily.

  “Hi!”

  I did the obligatory two-cheek kiss and grabbed his hands a little too tightly. He looked concerned.

  “Clementine. Good to see you. Are you OK?”

  I frowned.

  “Yes. I'm fine. Why?”

  I fixed a smile and Liam grimaced.

  “Well, you look a little... wired!”

  He looked more amused than annoyed and I laughed a little too loudly.

  “I'm excited about our date, that's all. Shall we go in?”

  He guided me in with his hand on my back and I took a few deep breaths. I caught a look at myself in the glass of the door on the way in and gasped. I did look rough. Poor Liam. Yet he had recovered his charm and took my jacket. He pointed to a booth and smiled widely. His blue eyes shone and the little crinkles appeared.

  “After you, Clementine.”

  I stared at the booth for several seconds.

  “I can't go in there. No. Not after last time. It's unlucky.”

  Liam sighed.

  “OK. What about here then?”

  He pointed to the next booth and we both eased in. Liam facing me. I grabbed the menu and blinked slowly. I could feel my face redden with embarrassment.

  “Sorry. It was stupid of me to say that.”

  “You sure are into your luck, aren't you? First your penny down the drain, now your lucky booth. Or unlucky.”

  “See a penny pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck.”

  “And is it true, do you think?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “On balance, no. About two weeks ago, I picked up a penny and my boyfriend finished with me. Then I found another penny and I met the guy who just dumped me. Then, after another penny, I found out my long-lost sister might live round the corner. So, no.”

  Liam bypassed the relationships and homed in on Charlotte.

  “Your sister? How come she is long lost?”

  “She walked out one night and never came back. Sixteen years ago, actually. Now, through a strange set of circumstances, I think I've found her.”

  He stared at me.

  “So, you don't know?”

  “No. I've seen her from a distance a couple of times.” Her red bra filled my mind and I shook my head to shake the image away. “And close up once. It seems to be her.”

  “I don't understand. Have you not just asked her?”

  “Well no. Me and my mum have sat outside her house and I've been there on my own but we've waited.”

  His eyebrows raised very high on his forehead.

  “Waited? Why didn't you just go and knock on the door? After all, if it's not her, what have you lost? What good could sitting outside her house do?”

  I stared at the table. He was right. Why hadn't we just knocked on the door that first day? I suddenly remembered.

  “The thing is, you know that guy you saw me with last week?”

  “Oh yes. Your sulky mate?”

  “Yes. Tim.” It felt strange saying his name now, almost a swear word. “She's his ex. I met him in here and it turned out he had a shrine to her. A Caroshrine. She's called Caroline. No, actually, she's called Charlotte.”

  Liam looked embarrassed. The kind of embarrassed that someone looks when someone else is slightly out of control.

  “So, you were involved with this Tim? Are you still involved with him?”

  “No. Nooo. It's over. Well, it never started. When I found out he had been going out with my sister, I decided to be around him to get more inf
ormation about her. You know, to try to find out if it was her?”

  No matter how I put it, it could never sound good.

  “Yes, I know exactly what you mean, Clementine. You used him.”

  “No! Not at all. If anything, he used me. I mean, he took me to his house and...”

  Liam stood up.

  “I think I've heard enough. I've got a background myself. In fact, I seldom date because I wonder if the fact I'm divorced with two children might put people off. But you, Clementine, have beaten me hands down. You've got too much baggage for me, I'm afraid. I'm looking for a nice, clean start to a relationship. You seem like a nice girl, but you're still somewhere in last week.”

  He glanced over at the booth I had refused.

  “Baggage? How dare you? It wasn't my fault Charlotte ran away. Or Lenny and Tim are psychos. Anyway, you don't even tick most of my boxes.”

  He pushed his hands into his pockets.

  “Boxes? What boxes? I've got to hear this!”

  “My list. Oh yes, I've got a list and I tick off everything that matches what I want. Do you play guitar?”

  “No, I don't.”

  “Ha! Then that's probably more than half the boxes you don't tick.”

  I folded my arms and looked triumphant. Liam tilted his head to one side and smiled sweetly.

  “Bye, Clementine.”

  I stood up and pulled at his arm.

  “Don't go, Liam. Give me another chance.” The words ricocheted through my brain in slow motion. “Take a risk.”