After You (27 page)

‘Just like that.’

‘Why not? You said it might take longer than we thought. Well, that’s my first step. What’s yours?’

‘Oh, God. Maybe I’ll persuade Richard to let me stop wearing that godawful nylon wig.’

‘That would be an excellent first step. It would be nice not to get an electric shock off every door handle in your flat.’

Her smile was infectious. I took the empty cigarette packet from her before she could litter the car park with that too, and stood back so she could climb through the window. She stopped and turned to me, as if she had suddenly thought of something. ‘You know, falling in love with someone else doesn’t mean that you loved my dad any less. You don’t have to be sad just to stay connected to him.’

I stared at her.

‘It’s just a thought.’ She shrugged and climbed back in through the window.

I woke the next day to find that Lily had already gone to work. She’d left a note saying she would bring some bread home at lunchtime as we were a bit short. I had drunk some coffee, had breakfast and put on my trainers to go for a walk (Marc: ‘exercise is as good for your spirit as it is for your body!’) when my mobile rang – a number I didn’t recognize.

‘Hello!’

It took me a minute. ‘Mum?’

‘Look out your window!’

I walked across the living room and gazed out. My mother was on the pavement waving vigorously.

‘What – what are you doing here? Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s at home.’

‘Is Granddad okay?’

‘Granddad’s fine.’

‘But you never come to London by yourself. You don’t even go past the petrol station without Dad in tow.’

‘Well, it was about time I changed, wasn’t it? Shall I come up? I don’t want to use up all the minutes on my new phone.’

I buzzed her in, and went around the living room, clearing the worst of last night’s dishes, and by the time she reached the door I was standing there, arms open, ready to greet her.

She was wearing her good anorak, her handbag slung satchel-style over her shoulder (‘Harder for muggers to snatch it’) and her hair styled into soft waves around her neck. She was beaming, her lips carefully outlined in coral-pink lipstick, and clutching the family
A–Z
, which dated back to some time around 1983.

‘I can’t believe you came by yourself.’

‘Isn’t it wonderful? I actually feel quite giddy. I told a young man on the tube that it was the first time I’d been on the Underground in thirty years without someone holding my hand, and he moved a full four seats down the carriage. I got quite hysterical with laughter. Will you put the kettle on?’ She sat, pulling off her coat, and gazed at the walls around her. ‘Well now. The green is … interesting.’

‘Lily’s choice.’ I wondered fleetingly if her arrival was some great joke and Dad was about to barrel in through my front door, laughing at what a great eejit I was, believing Josie would come anywhere by herself. I put a mug in front of her. ‘I don’t understand. Why did you come without Dad?’

She took a sip of the tea. ‘Oh, that’s lovely. You always did make the best cup of tea.’ She put it on the table, carefully sliding a paperback book under it first. ‘Well, I woke up this morning and I thought about all the things I had to do – put a wash on, clean the back windows, change Granddad’s bedding, buy toothpaste – and I just suddenly thought, Nope. I can’t do it. I’m not going to waste a glorious Saturday doing the same thing I’ve done for thirty years. I’m going to have an adventure.’

‘An adventure.’

‘So I thought we could go to a show.’

‘A show.’

‘Yes – a show. Louisa, have you turned into a parrot? Mrs Cousins from the insurance brokers says there’s a stall in Leicester Square where you can buy cheap tickets on the day for shows that aren’t full. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.’

‘What about Treena?’

Mum waved a hand. ‘Oh, she was busy. So what do you say? Shall we go and see if we can get some tickets?’

‘I’ll have to tell Lily.’

‘Then go and tell her. I’ll finish my tea, you can do something with that hair of yours, and we’ll head off. I’ve got a one-day travelcard, you know! I might just hop on and off the Underground all day!’

We got half-price tickets to
Billy Elliot
. It was that or a Russian tragedy, and Mum said she’d been funny about Russians since someone had given her cold beetroot soup and tried to pretend that was how the Russians ate it.

She sat rapt beside me for the entire performance, nudging me and muttering at intervals, ‘I remember the actual miners’ strike, Louisa. It was very hard on those poor families. Margaret Thatcher! Do you remember her? Oh, she was a terrible woman. Always had a nice handbag, though.’ When the young Billy flew into the air, apparently fuelled by his ambitions, she wept quietly beside me, a fresh white handkerchief pressed to her nose.

I watched the boy’s dance teacher, Mrs Wilkinson, a woman whose ambitions had never lifted her beyond the confines of the town, and tried not to see anything of my own life. I was a woman with a job and a sort-of-boyfriend, sitting in a West End theatre on a Saturday afternoon. I totted these things up as if they were little victories against some foe I couldn’t quite identify.

We emerged into the afternoon light dazed and emotionally spent. ‘Right,’ said Mum, tucking her handbag firmly under her arm (some habits die hard). ‘Tea at a hotel. C’mon. We’ll make a day of it.’

We couldn’t get into any of the grand ones, but we found a nice hotel near Haymarket with a tea selection that Mum approved of. She asked for a table in the middle of the room and sat there remarking on every person who walked in, noting their dress, whether they looked like they came from ‘abroad’,
their lack of wisdom in bringing small children, or little dogs that looked like rats.

‘Well, look at us!’ she would exclaim every now and then, when it grew quiet. ‘Isn’t this nice?’

We ordered English Breakfast tea (Mum: ‘That’s just posh for normal tea, yes? None of those weird flavours?’) and the ‘Afternoon Tea Fancy Plate’ and we ate tiny crustless sandwiches, little scones that weren’t as good as Mum made and cakes in gold foil. Mum talked for half an hour about
Billy Elliot
and how she thought we should all do this once a month or so and she bet that my father would love it if we could get him down here.

‘How is Dad?’

‘Oh, he’s fine. You know your father.’

I wanted to ask, but was too afraid. When I looked up, she was gazing at me a little beadily. ‘And no, Louisa, I am not doing my legs. And, no, he’s not happy. But there are more important things in life.’

‘What did he say about you coming here today?’

She snorted, and covered it up with a little coughing fit. ‘He didn’t believe I was going to. I told him about it when I brought him up his tea this morning, and he started to laugh, and if I’m honest with you it annoyed me so much I got dressed and I just went.’

My eyes widened. ‘You didn’t tell him?’

‘I already had told him. He’s been leaving messages on this phone thing all day, the eejit.’ She peered at the screen, then tucked it neatly back into her pocket.

I sat and watched her fork another little scone delicately onto her plate. She closed her eyes in pleasure as she took a bite. ‘This is just marvellous.’

I swallowed. ‘Mum, you’re not going to get divorced, are you?’

Her eyes shot open. ‘Divorced? I’m a good Catholic girl,
Louisa. We don’t divorce. We just make our men suffer for all eternity!’

I paid the bill, and we disappeared to the Ladies, a cavernous room of walnut-coloured marble and expensive flowers, overseen by a silent attendant who stood by the basins. Mum washed her hands twice, thoroughly, then sniffed the various hand lotions lined up against the sink, pulling faces in the mirror depending on what she liked. ‘I shouldn’t say so, given my opposition to the patriarchy and all, but I do wish one of you girls had a nice man.’

‘I’ve met someone,’ I said, before I realized I’d said it.

She turned to me, a lotion bottle in her hand. ‘You haven’t!’

‘He’s a paramedic.’

‘Well, that’s smashing. A paramedic! That’s almost as useful as a plumber. So when are we going to meet him?’

I faltered. ‘Meet him? I’m not sure it’s …’

‘It’s what?’

‘Well. I mean, it’s early days. I’m not sure it’s that kind of –’

My mother unscrewed the lid of her lipstick and stared into the mirror. ‘It’s just for sex, is that what you’re saying?’

‘Mum!’ I glanced at the attendant.

‘Well, what are you saying?’

‘I’m not sure I’m ready for a real relationship just yet.’

‘Why? What else have you got going on? Those ovaries won’t go in the freezer, you know.’

‘So why didn’t Treena come?’ I said, hurriedly changing the subject.

‘She couldn’t find a sitter for Thom.’

‘You said she was busy.’

Mum’s eyes darted across to my reflection. She pressed her lips together and snapped her lipstick back into her handbag. ‘She seems to be a little cross with you right now, Louisa.’ She
activated Maternal X-ray Vision. ‘Have you two had a falling out?’

‘I don’t know why she always has to have opinions about everything I do.’ I heard my own voice, the sulky tones of a twelve-year-old.

She fixed me with a look.

So I told her. I sat up on the marble basin, and Mum took the easy chair, and I told her about the job offer and why I couldn’t possibly take it, how we had lost Lily and found her again, and how she was finally beginning to come out of the other side. ‘I’ve arranged for her to meet Mrs Traynor again. So we’re moving forward. But Treena just won’t listen, although if Thom were going through half the same thing she’d be the first person saying I couldn’t walk away from him.’

I felt relieved telling my mother. She, of all people, would understand the ties of responsibility. ‘So that’s why she’s not talking to me.’

My mother was staring at me.

‘Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, have you lost your mind?’

‘What?’

‘A job in New York with all the trimmings and you’re sticking around here to work in that godawful place at the airport? Did you hear this?’ She turned to the attendant. ‘I can’t believe she’s my own daughter. Honest to God, I wonder what happened to the brains she was born with.’

The attendant shook her head slowly. ‘No good,’ she said.

‘Mum! I’m doing the right thing!’

‘For whom?’

‘For Lily!’

‘You think nobody other than you could have helped get that girl back on her feet? Well, did you speak to this chap in New York and ask him whether you could defer the job offer a few weeks?’

‘It’s not that kind of a job.’

‘How would you know? You don’t ask, you don’t get. Isn’t that right?’

The attendant nodded slowly.

‘Oh, Jesus. When I think about it …’

The attendant gave my mother a hand towel and she fanned her neck vigorously with it. ‘Listen to me, Louisa. I’ve got one brilliant daughter stuck at home weighed down with responsibility because she made a bad choice early on – not that I don’t love Thom to bits, but I’ll tell you, I want to cry my heart out when I think of what Treena could have become if she’d just had that boy a bit later. I’m stuck looking after your father and Granddad, and that’s fine. I’m finding my way. But this should not be the most you have to look forward to in your life, you hear me? Not a bunch of half-price tickets and a fancy tea every now and then. You should be out there! You’re the one person in our family with an actual ruddy chance! And to hear you’ve just chucked it away for the sake of some girl you barely even know!’

‘I did the
right thing
, Mum.’

‘Maybe you did. Or maybe it wasn’t actually an either/or situation.’

‘You don’t ask, you don’t get,’ said the attendant.

‘There! This lady knows. You need to get back there and ask this American gentleman is there any way you can come along a bit later … Don’t you look at me like that, Louisa. I’ve been too soft on you. I haven’t pushed you when I should have done. You need to get yourself out of that dead-end job of yours and start living.’

‘The job is gone, Mum.’

‘Gone my pearly-handled backside it is. Have you actually asked them?’

I shook my head.

Mum huffed and adjusted the scarf around her neck. She pulled two pound coins from her purse and pressed them into the hand of the attendant. ‘Well, I have to say, haven’t you done a grand job! You could eat your supper off this floor. And it all smells simply gorgeous.’

The attendant smiled at her warmly, and then, almost as an afterthought, held up a finger. She peered out of the door, then walked to her cupboard, unlocking it swiftly with a bunch of keys. She emerged and pressed a bar of floral soap into Mum’s hands.

Mum sniffed it and sighed. ‘Well, that is just
heaven
. Just a little piece of heaven.’

‘For you.’

‘For me?’

The woman closed Mum’s hands around it.

‘Well, aren’t you the kindest? May I ask your name?’

‘Maria.’

‘Maria, I’m Josie. I’m going to make sure I come back to London and use your toilet the very next time I’m here. Do you see that, Louisa? Who knows what happens when you break out a little? How’s that for an adventure? And I got the most gorgeous bar of soap from my lovely new friend Maria here!’ They clasped hands with the fervency of old acquaintances about to be parted, and we left the hotel.

I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t tell her that that job haunted me from the moment I woke until I went to sleep. Whatever I said to anyone else, I knew I would always regret to my bones missing the chance to live and work in New York. That no matter how much I told myself there would be other chances, other places, this would be the lost opportunity I carried, like a cheap handbag I regretted buying, wherever I went.

And sure enough, after I had waved her off on the train to
my, no doubt, bemused and blustering father, and long after I had made a salad for Lily from bits that Sam had left in the fridge, when I checked my email that night there was a message from Nathan.