Claire
Claire
Dear Frances,
I’ve just opened your letter, and I’m bowled over by your generous gift. I’d been saving up for the flights so there was no need, but I’m so grateful. Thanks a million.
See you next week – really looking forward to it. I land in Shannon at half six, so it’ll be after eight when I arrive.
Thanks again, you’re very kind.
Ellen xx
PS I’m bringing you spices from the big outdoor market near our flat. They’re the real deal, a couple of brothers from Morocco run the stall. You’d love the market, like a giant charity shop.
She also dashed off a letter to Danny, telling him of Frances’ unexpected cheque: I’ll be able to splash out in Galway! she wrote. I’d love to treat you to dinner on Saturday night if you’re free.
Sealing his envelope, she thought about seeing him again after nearly three months apart. She conjured up his voice, his laugh, the dimple in his chin, the way he had of sweeping back his hair. She imagined herself wrapped in one of his warm hugs.
Was it too late for them? Had that chance come and gone? Would it even be a wise move if they decided to go for it, or was she simply lonely after Ben, and needing someone to fill the void he’d left? She’d dated a few times in London, but hadn’t encountered anyone who made her heart beat faster. Would Danny, given the chance? Maybe.
There should be a handbook, she thought. Beginner’s Guide to Love , or How to Avoid Absurd Romantic Mistakes . Making it up as you went along was so hard. Claire never worried about things like that – she had no trouble making it up as she went along.
‘Go for it,’ she said when Ellen confided the way her thoughts were going. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘I could break his heart – or he could break mine.’
Claire sighed. ‘I’ve told you before, you take all of this stuff far too seriously. Hearts get broken, Ellen – yours did, remember? Mine did too, a couple of times – but people move on, and broken hearts mend. It’s all part of the game.’
If only Ellen could look on it as a game. She decided to wait and see how she felt on meeting him again.
The days passed, and finally the eve of the graduation arrived. ‘See you on Monday,’ she said to Gloria, who gave a curt nod in return. Probably didn’t approve of Ellen getting a day off. Tomorrow a cousin of Claudia’s was stepping in: maybe she’d make a mess of things, and Gloria would be glad to see Ellen back.
Three days she’d have in Galway, or nearly three. All of Friday and Saturday, and an evening flight back to London on Sunday. The graduation wasn’t until Friday afternoon, so Ellen planned to visit Piles of Books in the morning. It would be bittersweet, with Ben missing, but it would be lovely to catch up with Edwin and Jasper.
On Friday night she’d cook dinner with Frances, Danny being taken out for a post-graduation meal by his parents. He’d invited her along and she’d said no, not wanting to butt into a family occasion, but his parents were travelling home on Saturday so they’d have time to themselves after that.
After leaving the sandwich bar she sped back to the flat instead of going straight to the airport as she’d planned, having realised during the day that she’d left the spices for Frances on a shelf in the kitchen. She’d still make the flight if she didn’t delay.
In the house, she dropped her bag at the bottom of the stairs and hurried up. Claire was gone to Cornwall with her latest man for the weekend, so the place would be empty – but it wasn’t.
‘You should be gone,’ Claire said in an odd flat voice. She was in her dressing gown, face as white as a sheet, pouring water from the kettle into a mug. ‘You should be on your way to the airport. Why are you back?’
‘Claire, what are you doing here? What happened? Are you sick?’
Claire replaced the kettle. ‘I had an abortion,’ she said, leaning into the counter.
‘What? When?’
‘This morning. I’m just home. You weren’t supposed to be here.’ She tried to pour milk, but the bottle shook and the milk splashed onto the counter. ‘Fuck,’ she said quietly.
Ellen took the bottle and poured. She got a cloth and mopped up the spill. ‘Come on,’ she said, hooking an arm around Claire’s waist, ‘let’s get you to bed. Lean on me if it helps.’
Claire winced. ‘I think I need a fresh pad. Sorry to be gruesome.’
‘OK.’
They went to the bathroom and did what needed to be done. Back in the kitchen Ellen filled a hot-water bottle, and then another, and brought them both to Claire, who was lying on her mattress on the floor with her eyes closed.
‘Were you given painkillers?’ Ellen asked, squatting to slip the bottles between the sheets.
Claire nodded. ‘I took them. You should go – you don’t want to miss your flight. Why did you come back?’
‘I forgot something, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not going. I’m not leaving you.’
Claire’s eyes fluttered open. ‘No, you’re not staying. I’ll be fine after a night’s sleep.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you. You shouldn’t have done that alone.’
‘Because you’re good,’ she said, so quietly Ellen could hardly hear. ‘I didn’t want to involve you.’
‘Don’t be daft – I’m your friend.’
‘Ellen, just go, please. Go and clap for Danny. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m not leaving you on your own.’
‘I’ll go to Jada if I need help. Please, I want you to go.’
So Ellen went, still full of reservations. By now rush hour was well underway, the station full of commuters, her train too full to find a seat. She stood with her bag between her feet, hanging onto a strap. In a couple of hours she would be landing in Shannon.
She imagined seeing Danny tomorrow, watching him cross a stage in his robe and funny flat hat. She’d packed a pretty blue polka dot dress she’d found in the market, and borrowed Claire’s red shoes. She’d take a photo of him with his parents after the ceremony, and put it into a frame for him.
The train arrived at the airport and people swarmed off. Ellen was swept along the platform, but as soon as she could she veered sideways and found a wall, and pressed against it until the wave of people had passed.
No. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go.
She hitched up her bag and followed arrows until she found herself on the opposite platform. By the time she climbed the steps to street level at Notting Hill Gate Station it was half an hour after her plane had been scheduled to take off.
She stopped at a phone box and dropped in coins and phoned Frances. She told her what had happened, and what was not now going to happen.
‘I’m sorry, Frances. I’ve wasted the money you sent me. I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t you worry your head about the money,’ Frances said. ‘I’m cross that you’ll miss your trip. You’re a good friend, Ellen. You’re a better friend than she deserves.’
‘She’d do the same for me.’
‘She wouldn’t have to,’ Frances replied tartly.
Ellen let that go. ‘I’ll come and see you at Christmas,’ she promised. ‘I’ll let you know when I book my flights.’
‘Do. Look after yourself.’
She couldn’t phone Danny, staying with friends in Galway tonight, so she phoned his family home and spoke with his mother. She told her a friend was sick and she needed to stay with her. ‘Tell Danny I’m sorry to miss it,’ she said. ‘I’ll write.’
His mother’s voice was familiar. ‘Oh lovey, we were so looking forward to meeting you again. Danny will be disappointed too, I know. I hope your friend gets better soon.’
She trudged back to the flat to find Claire asleep. As she made tea she spotted the bag of spices for Frances, forgotten for the second time. She took her tea across to the bay window. They’d covered the couch in a giant tie-dyed tablecloth and shifted it to another wall where they largely ignored it, preferring to sit on the wide sill to watch the goings-on in the street.
In a recent letter, Danny had told her he was going skiing at Christmas with workmates, so she wouldn’t have a chance to see him then. It could well be next Christmas before they encountered one another again.
It was probably for the best. It might have been on the rebound.