Days Like These
Authors: Miranda Barnes
© Miranda Barnes 2016
Miranda Barnes has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
This edition published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Meg would never forget the day Jamie left her. Nor the time. Nor what she was doing at the time. Everything was etched deeply in her memory and in her heart forever. As were his words, words so ordinary she scarcely noticed them at the time.
'I'm going now, Meg,' he said.
She turned from the cooker, casserole dish in her hands, and sighed with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
'Going? Jamie, you can't go now. For Heaven's sake! This is just about ready, and they'll be here any minute now.'
He shrugged and said he was going anyway. He had to.
'Well, be quick. How long will you be?'
She assumed he wanted a quick pint or to buy a packet of cigarettes, even though he maintained he wasn't drinking much now and he'd given up smoking again.
'I'm going,' he repeated, for once not smiling. 'For good, I mean,' he added.
It was the missing smile that told her it was different this time. The words themselves had little meaning. Jamie's words seldom did. He just said what suited him, or suited his purposes. She knew that. It could even be endearing. But not when he didn't smile.
'Goodbye, Meg.'
'Jamie!'
But he was gone.
She was stunned. For a long moment, all she could do was stare at the empty doorway. Then the heat from the pyrex dish burned through the thin part of one of the oven gloves. She dropped the dish on to the hob and in a panic rushed after him.
She reached the front door and wrestled it open, just in time to see Mike and Jenny climbing out of their car. But there was a gap, a hole in the world, where Jamie's car should have been.
'Hi, Meg!' Jenny called, waving the bunch of flowers she held in one hand.
Meg vaguely waved back, distracted, but her eyes went up and down the street. Where was he? How could he have disappeared so fast?
Of course! He must have parked the car round the back and gone out that way to avoid their visitors.
'How very nice of you to be here to welcome us,' Mike said, as he climbed the steps to the front door. 'I feel like royalty. How are you, Meg?' he added, planting a kiss on her cheek.
'Freesias, my dear,' Jenny said with a smile, thrusting the bouquet into her arms. 'They'll make the entire house smell like summer.'
Meg, in a daze, stood aside and let them pass into the house. In the dim light, they hadn't noticed anything amiss. They hadn't even noticed that she hadn't spoken. Not one word. She was paralysed. She tried to open her mouth, and did manage it, but nothing came out. She was terrified.
She closed the door. She felt sick and panicky. She felt like screaming. She turned and, in a daze, followed her visitors through to the lounge.
'Something smells good!' Mike declared, sniffing appreciatively at the scents drifting in from the kitchen.
Meg, clutching the flowers, sagged against the wall and stared emptily into space.
'I'll put them in water,' Jenny said, reclaiming the freesias.
'So where's himself?' Mike asked, as he sank heavily into the sofa. 'Not back yet? Working late?'
Meg stared at him. She couldn't think of anything to say. Her heart was jumping. She was sweating heavily. In a moment, she knew, she would throw up all over the new carpet.
'I turned the gas off,' Jenny announced, coming back into the room. 'But your casserole looks done to me.'
She looked troubled now. She stood staring at Meg, who suddenly pressed her face into her hands.
'Oh, Meg! What's wrong?' Jenny cried, reaching out to wrap her arms around her. 'What is it? Where's Jamie?'
Suddenly it was very quiet in the room. Meg knew it was her turn to say something. Anything.
'He's gone,' she mumbled, avoiding Jenny's anxious eyes.
'Gone? Where to?' Mike demanded. 'The sly so-and-so! Without me, as well. The Queen's Head or The Packhorse? I'll go and roust him.'
'Shut up, Mike!' Jenny warned, sensing a different scenario.
Mike grimaced.
'Have you two had a row?' Jenny asked.
Meg shook her head.
'What's the matter, then?'
'He's left me,' Meg whispered through tear-blurred eyes.
'Left you? When?'
'Five minutes ago – just before you arrived.'
'Dear God!' Jenny said, shocked.
'When he knew we were coming?' Mike asked indignantly.
He began to say something else but shut up when Jenny flashed him a look of pure anger.
It had all happened in such a pitifully short time, and the enormity of it finally overwhelmed Meg's defences. Tears flowed. She began to sob uncontrollably, no longer caring what her guests thought.
The next day Meg went to work as usual, because in the end she could think of nothing else to do. She was exhausted, totally washed out, but she needed the comfort of purpose and routine. And she couldn't be on her own. She couldn't bear that.
Jenny and Mike had eventually left the previous night, but she had no idea when. She couldn't remember what they had done or said during the evening, or even if they had had dinner. But they must have done. The kitchen was tidy, she noticed before setting off for work. So someone had washed and put away the pots and pans, which must have been emptied first. So probably they had eaten. Mike, at least. He would have done. He wouldn't have let Jamie's absence, or anything else, put him off his food. Not him.
*
The bus was crowded, as usual. But she managed to grab a seat as someone stood up to get off. She slumped into it gratefully. When she had caught her breath, she raised a hand and wiped away a little patch of condensation from the window beside her. Then she peered out at the crowded pavement, almost as if she hoped to see Jamie there, even though she knew he wouldn't be. He would be driving. In his car, at least. Wherever he was, he would be in his car or it would be nearby. The red BMW was his pride and joy, his most-loved possession. More loved than her, anyway. Obviously.
She shivered. He hadn't come home last night. She'd waited and waited. She'd been going to tell him it didn't matter that he'd upset her. She forgave him. It didn't matter that he'd missed Mike and Jenny either. They would get over it. Or not. It didn't matter. It just didn't matter. She would have told him that what Mike and Jenny thought wasn't important. In the end, it was just the two of them that counted. Jamie and her. As long as they loved each other, nothing else mattered.
She would have told him all that. Then they would have smiled at each other ruefully. They might even have had a good laugh. If he'd had a lot to drink, a very lot, Jamie would probably have fallen asleep on the sofa. If he'd not had so much, they would have gone to bed and made love, however late it was. They would. She knew Jamie, what he was like. She ought to. Five years now, they'd been together. Three years married.
But he hadn't come home. She knew that. She'd been awake all night, and she'd never heard him struggling with the front door, like he always did when he'd had a drink or two. He hadn't come back at all. Now she didn't know what to think, or to do. Except go to work, like she always did.
*
The office was hot. You could almost see steam rising from the plant pots on the window ledge. She liked that. Heat made her feel good. Better, anyway.
But Robert didn't like heat. Robert was an outdoors type. So he was always there early. And he opened all the windows, to let out as much heat as possible before the others arrived and demanded that he shut them. He was a nuisance. Selfish, too. But he was the boss, the Section Head at least.
She sometimes wished she worked in an all-female office. Then the windows would stay shut. There wouldn't be this constant battle between Robert and the other three men and the six women in the section.
'Morning, Meg!' Robert called, looking up with surprise. 'You're early, aren't you?'
'Am I?'
She knew she was. Of course she was. She'd been up all night, hadn't she?
'God, you look rough!' he added with a cheerful grin.
'Thank you,' she said. 'And good morning to you, too, Robert.'
Doing her best to be normal, to appear as normal as she could be. It was the only way.
She sat down at her desk and switched on the computer. She didn't care what time it was. She didn't care if she looked rough or not. She didn't care what Robert thought either. To hell with him!
She liked her job well enough but she didn't like everyone who worked in the Civic Centre. Why should she? And Robert was one of those she didn't much care for, although she couldn't really say she positively disliked him. She just had very little in common with him, and even less interest in him. He was old. Thirty-five, probably. Besides, he was a cold fish. No-one knew much about Robert. He wasn't the sort of man to talk about anything other than work.
The machine hurried through its warm-up phase. The screen flickered and came to life, and was suddenly ready with its "Welcome to Morning!" message. Then the machine waited to be told what to do next.
But Meg had no idea what she wanted it to do next. She didn't really want it to do anything at all. She just wanted to look at it, something familiar and safe, and she didn't want anyone bothering her. Not now. Not today. The only thing on her mind was how long Jamie would leave it before he rang. Nothing else mattered.
The others drifted in one by one, taking advantage of the flexi-time system. Fiona was usually last, as she had twin boys to get to the nursery on her way to work, but not today.
'Mam's taking the boys,' she said. 'Isn't that great? I thought I might beat you for once, Meg. But here you are! It must be lovely to get up in the morning knowing all you have to do is get yourself to work. I can't remember what it's like. You won't be able to either once you and Jamie start a family.'
Meg managed a token smile, though she felt like putting her head on the keyboard and weeping.
Jamie didn't call in the first hour. Nor the second. Then it was coffee time, and Robert's turn to make it. The Section was very democratic.
'Black and no sugar, right?' he asked, collecting the mug from the edge of her desk.
'Thanks, Robert. Yes, that's right.'
He returned a couple of minutes later, with a tray of steaming mugs.
'Meg, I've got some paracetamol, if you would like a couple?' he said, as he handed over her mug.
'Paracetamol?' she repeated, staring at him with bemusement.
'I use them for headaches myself. These lights,' he added, glancing up at the fluorescent strips on the ceiling. 'They’re famous for causing migraines, and what not.'
'Oh?'
'If you don't feel well,' he told her with an unexpected smile, 'just go on home. The job will still be here tomorrow. If there's anything urgent, let me know. I'll sort it out for you.'
He left her to it then, before she could protest that there was nothing wrong with her. But there was. Something deeply wrong. And it must be obvious, she thought with despair, if even Robert had noticed.
*
Somehow she hung on, and got through to lunchtime. Then she disappeared out into the shops. One thing about working in the city centre, she thought with relief, was how many shops there were, and how crowded they were. You could just lose yourself. No trouble at all. She wandered around at random, not buying anything, not really seeing anything. Just filling in time and hoping to avoid everyone she knew.
And waiting. Waiting for Jamie.
How could he do this? she wondered miserably. How could he do it to her? She'd done nothing to deserve it. Her whole life was devoted to Jamie. She thought of little else but him from the moment she first woke up in the morning to when she fell asleep at night. Why on earth couldn't he see that?
Then it struck her that perhaps he did see it, and didn't care. That made her feel worse than ever. Her vision blurred. She staggered and lurched sideways. Someone grabbed her arm.
'Are you all right, pet?'
Her vision cleared. Her head stopped swimming. She realised she was seated on a bentwood chair.
She looked up into the face of an older woman who had one arm around her. The woman's eyes were worried but she smiled now. Meg straightened up and let go of the counter she had been clutching.
'Thank you, yes,' she stammered. 'I nearly ….'
'I know. It's the heat in here. You were nearly away there.'
She must have been about to faint, she realised. Perhaps she had? Lucky someone had noticed.
'I'll be all right now,' she said, beginning to get to her feet. 'Thank you.'
'You take care now. I know what it's like when you're carrying. I should do. I've had four of my own!'
The woman smiled. She seemed relieved that Meg had recovered.
'Oh, I'm not ….'
'You get outside, pet, into the fresh air. It'll do you the world of good.'
The woman assumed she was pregnant, Meg thought with something like dismay. Well, she wasn't. She was just fat and …. Oh, God! Where are you, Jamie?
Satisfied, the woman left her. Meg took her advice and headed for one of the exits. She knew herself that she had to get out of the heat and the noise, and away from all these people.
*
'All right?' Robert asked, glancing up as she hung her coat on the stand near her desk.
She nodded. 'Fine, thanks. By, it's chilly out there!'
She hoped she sounded cheerful and normal. The way Robert was looking at her, though, she guessed she didn't. She'd better make more of an effort.
'How are the kids, Robert?'
'Dangerous.'
'Dangerous?'
'Loaded with germs. From school, and play school. Everything going, they pick up and bring home. They're like weapons of mass destruction. The only things they haven't got are typhoid, bubonic plague and loss of voice.
'Everything else they've got?'
'Or they've already had. Anything they've by some little quirk missed will be coming soon.'
'You do well to stay so healthy then.'
He smiled and said, 'Needs must. I'm slowing down, mind. There was a time when I'd have had these invoices sorted by this time on a Friday.'
'Can I give you a hand?' she asked, surprising herself.
He deliberated for a moment and then said, 'Aye, OK. If you've got time?'
She joined him and they spent half an hour sorting out the problem. Then she returned to her own desk.
Friday, she thought sadly. Oh, Jamie! What am I to do?
At three he called.
'Are you all right?' she asked.
'Yeah. Fine.'
'Where are you?'
'Meg, I just thought I'd better tell you I've been for my stuff. You haven't had a burglar, or anything.'
'Stuff? What stuff?'
'Clothes and things.'
'Oh, Jamie! What's happening? You don't need to do that. What's wrong?'
'See you, Meg.'
'Where are you going?' she asked desperately.
'I'll let you know.'
'You can't mean this!'
'I do. I want out. So do you, really, if you're honest with yourself.'
'I don't. I…'
She stopped. He'd hung up.
She put the phone down and stared hard at the calendar on the pinboard in front of her. It had been provided by a hydraulic crane company. She knew that but she couldn't see the writing now. Her eyes were smeared with vaseline. Her insides were churning. Tears were not far away.
'Bad news?' Carol enquired from a nearby desk.
Meg nodded without looking at her. She wondered if Carol had heard. She must have done. Part of it, at least.
It didn't matter. She didn't care. Nothing mattered now.
'Why don't you go home?' Carol suggested.
She shook her head. She couldn't do that. Home? She didn't have one now. There was a house, with her things in it. That was all. She was in no hurry to go there.
But she couldn't stay in the office either. She left at four, the earliest she could. While waiting for the lift, Robert joined her.
'That's another one over,' he said.
She nodded.
Then the lift came and they both pressed inside, the dozen people already there reluctantly making way for them.
The pressure of bodies and faces was overpowering. Meg held her breath and closed her eyes. Jamie! she was thinking. Oh, Jamie!
'Meg?'
She opened her eyes. People were surging out of the lift. Robert was looking at her, his face and voice registering concern.
'You're not well, are you?'
She shook her head but said, 'I'll be all right.'
She moved unsteadily towards the door. Robert held her by the elbow, and steered her through the gap and out into the street. She was glad of the support.
Outside, it was bitterly cold now. It was very nearly dark and an east wind was blowing with sharp little gusts that sent the leaves left over from Autumn spiralling into the January air.
'Come on,' Robert said. 'I'll run you home.'
'The bus ….'
'Catch that another day, when you're feeling better.'
She hadn't the strength to object, or to think straight. Everything was a struggle.
Robert's car was in a nearby car park, just a couple of minutes' walk away.
'Costs a fortune, parking here,' he said, 'but I have to pay it. I need the car to be handy.'
'What about the Metro?'
He shook his head. 'That's all right for where I live, and where I work, but not for getting to the childminder's.'
