Chapter 19
On Saturday morning, Nancy woke at her usual time of seven, even though she didn’t have to go to work.
She listened for any sounds of movement, but it didn’t seem as if anyone else was up yet.
She pulled on her dressing gown and went downstairs, grabbed a yoghurt from the fridge and took it out into the garden to eat while she mulled over what to do with her day.
A waft of sadness engulfed her as she realised this was her life now – no Clifford – and before she could blink them back, tears were spilling out of her eyes and running down her face.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, the gentle rays of morning sun warming her arms, her empty yoghurt pot in her hand, silently crying for the life she used to have.
She wished that Cobweb was here in the garden so that she could stroke her.
She found the sweet cat such a comfort. Maybe when Phyllis had left she’d get herself a cat.
It would be good to have the company. She could have a pet now, couldn’t she?
She could do what she wanted. She had to be strong, build herself a new life, she resolved.
Nancy stood up, wiped her eyes and went back inside, the weekend stretching emptily in front of her.
Jackie was in the kitchen, wrapped in a fluffy white dressing gown, the kettle coming to the boil, plugging in the toaster. ‘Fancy coffee and toast?’ she asked.
Nancy was aware that her face must look a mess, and that Jackie must have seen her sitting in the garden crying, but thankfully she didn’t comment upon it.
Nancy nodded. ‘I would, thank you. I’ll just quickly freshen up.’
She walked out into the hall, intending to use the downstairs bathroom but was halted by the sound of singing coming from there.
‘You walked out because you wanted to be free, but now you’re gone I can finally be me. So, keep on walking, I don’t want you near, keep on walking, there’s no place for you here.’
It was Slate. She’d never heard the song before, but he was singing it really well. She stood still for a moment, listening to the chorus, letting the words wash over her. It’s almost as if it was speaking to her, telling her to forget about Clifford and make a new life for herself.
‘He’s got a good voice, hasn’t he?’ Jackie was standing beside her.
‘He certainly has.’
‘Fancy coming with me to his gig tonight?’ Jackie asked. ‘It might be fun. I’ve been wanting to go ever since we found out about the band.’
Nancy hesitated. It had been a long time since she’d spent an evening in a pub.
Clifford didn’t approve of them – apart from the occasional Sunday lunch in a country pub.
But the quiet day loomed in front of her and it would be something to break up the long weekend.
Besides, it might be a fun evening. Why not?
Go for it. Before she could reply a high-pitched beeping rent the air.
‘Oh, shit, the toast. I’ve set off the smoke alarm!’ Jackie raced back into the kitchen, Nancy hot on her heels. Black toast was peeping out of the toaster, amid a cloud of smoke that was billowing around it. Nancy flung open the window and Jackie waved the tea towel around.
‘Someone cooking?’ an amused voice asked from the doorway.
It was Slate, his black fleece dressing gown tied at the waist.
‘Your singing distracted us and we forgot about the toast,’ Jackie told him.
Slate’s eyes rested on Nancy’s face, which she knew was still red and puffy, proof she’d been crying, then back to Jackie.
‘Sorry for distracting you, but you must have the dial too high, for it to burn,’ he observed.
‘Yes, thank you for mansplaining that to me,’ Jackie replied, but her tone was light. It was clear that she and Slate were used to bantering with each other.
‘Any time.’ He grinned, then turned and went upstairs.
‘Shall we try again with that toast?’ Jackie asked once the beeping had stopped.
Nancy got two mugs from the cupboard and made the coffee. A couple of minutes later they both sat down at the table, tucking into their breakfasts.
‘So do you fancy coming along to his gig tonight?’ Jackie asked. ‘Or have you got other things planned? I’ve got an art class this afternoon. Weekends are best for some people, so we often run a class on a Saturday afternoon too.’
‘I don’t know how you do it,’ Nancy burst out.
Then she realised how her words sounded.
‘I’m not being judgemental; I’m genuinely curious.
I couldn’t sit in front of a class of people, naked.
I couldn’t have done it even when I was younger and had a firmer body, so certainly not now I have wobbly bits.
’ She put her hand over her mouth, mortified as she realised how bad that sounded, as if she was being critical of Jackie’s body. ‘Sorry, that came out all wrong.’
‘Nah, I know what you mean. We think we have to have perfect bodies when we’re young, don’t we?
I also don’t think I could have done it then.
But now, well, no one expects me to have firm skin and a flat tummy, so it’s a lot more liberating.
’ She took a bite out of her toast and chewed it.
‘To be honest, I don’t think twice about it any more.
People get too hung up about bodies. We’re all beautiful in our own way. ’
It must be so freeing to think like that, but Nancy knew she couldn’t do it. ‘How long have you been a life model?’ she asked.
Jackie swallowed a mouthful of toast. ‘About seven years now. It happened by accident actually.’
‘Accident?’ Nancy didn’t see how anyone could take their clothes off and sit there for other people to paint their bodies by accident.
‘Yeah. I first went to the art classes as a student. Me and Malcolm – that’s my ex – we were getting into a bit of a rut so decided we should take up separate hobbies, give us something to talk to each other about.
I took up art and he took up learning French.
I’d been going for a few weeks when – one day – the life model didn’t turn up for the session.
The tutor said we’d have to cancel the class, then jokingly asked if any of us fancied filling in for the model and I thought, why not?
So I did. And it was okay once we all got over those first few minutes.
So I carried on doing it every week. It’s quite liberating, and a nice little earner. ’
‘Didn’t your husband mind?’ Nancy knew that Clifford would have had a fit if she did anything like that.
‘Well, actually I didn’t tell him! What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?
And I enjoyed it.’ She winked at Nancy, her eyes twinkling.
‘Then one Saturday there was an exhibition of our work at the art college and Malcolm found out about it and decided to come along. He was shocked to see that all the paintings were of me in the noddy! We had a bit of a barney that night and he gave me an ultimatum: I stopped posing in the nude or he’d leave me. ’
Nancy gaped at her. ‘What did you do?’
‘I told him that I wasn’t going to be dictated to. A couple of months later he packed his bags and went off with someone else.’
‘Goodness, you must have been devastated.’ Nancy felt quite stunned at this revelation.
Jackie shrugged. ‘Not really. It took a while to get used to living on my own, but truth be told, we’d been drifting apart for a couple of years.
And God, I found Malcolm stifling. He was always telling me how to act, what to wear.
Saying I was too loud, to tone down my laugh.
I decided that I was better off without him. ’
Nancy digested this information thoughtfully. Were all men controlling? While Clifford never openly criticised too much, he had a way of wording things – when she wore something he didn’t like or did something he didn’t approve of – that would make her change her dress, or actions.
‘Anyway, that’s enough about me. Look, I can see that you’re a bit raw and lost.’ She leaned across the table and patted Nancy’s hand.
‘It will pass, love, and you’ll come out stronger.
’ She pushed back her chair and stood up.
‘Now I’ll just load these into the dishwasher and be off.
Have a think and text me if you want to come to the gig. I’ll be back about five.’
After Jackie had gone upstairs to get ready, Nancy sat at the table for a few minutes, thinking things over.
These three people who had come into her life, who were sharing her home – they’d all gone through tough times and got over them.
Phyllis had been forced to move out of her house when her friend had to go in a home; Jackie had started a new life when her marriage had broken up; and Slate had been a single dad.
And that must have been tough. Yet, here they were, each living in a room in her house and getting on with their lives.
That’s what she had to do. Pick herself up and build a life for herself. Clifford had gone and yes, part of her missed him, but as the days and weeks passed, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to come back. Not after how he’d treated her. Her life was hers now to live how she wanted.
The trouble was, did she even know what she wanted?