Chapter 5
5
I turn into a parking space outside the Sunflower retirement home. It looks more like a hotel, with the white pillars and regimented flowerbeds. It’s a Sunday afternoon and three weeks since Valentine’s Day. I drive forwards and then backwards a few times to get the angle of the car just right. My neighbour Kath is in the passenger seat and looks at her watch.
‘Ten to two. You know the others, they won’t be ready early. Let’s just stay here for a moment.’
About nine months ago, I started to give Kath lifts here to see her friend, Nora. She introduced me and we got to talking about books. Another resident joined in. That’s when I hit upon the idea of setting up a book club.
This is the first meeting I’ve felt up to attending since I found Beatrix’s text.
‘Perhaps we should wait in the reception area,’ I say brightly and shiver. ‘We’ll catch our death staying in the car.’ The door squeaks as I open it. A hand gently holds me back.
‘How are things going? You’ve been a treasure these last few weeks, helping me with that shoulder cream as well as dropping off shopping as usual, but you’ve not mentioned Lenny. I’ve not pushed, but?—’
‘What is there to say?’
Spindly fingers poking out of a practical anorak squeeze my arm. ‘I’m just worried, sweetheart. Are you eating properly? You just picked at the cake I offered you yesterday.’
‘My appetite’s just been off.’
‘Has Lenny been in touch?’
I sigh and close the door. ‘I told him to leave. He seemed to think we could still be friends.’ A pain that’s all too familiar grips my chest as if fists are wringing out my lungs. It’s a pain I haven’t experienced for a long, long time. Not since what happened to Uncle Kevin.
At first I used to struggle with my strong emotional connection with Lenny. I’ve always been an independent woman – Mum drilled the importance of that into me. I pay my own bills, I speak my mind at work and I’m following my own passion. I’ve always gladly embraced the single life – Flossie doesn’t count, even though we eat together and I swear she laughs whenever I watch re-runs of Frasier , a favourite sitcom of Uncle Kevin’s. I’d learnt that when you rely on someone, fate can snatch them away in the most decisive manner.
But then I met Lenny, and me became we.
‘What did he say when you showed him the text? Talk to me, Violet. If my years of nursing taught me anything, it’s that holding things in never did anyone any good.’
I study her soft white hair cut into a neat bob. She wears no make-up apart from a slash of pink across the mouth that rarely utters an unkind word. Concern deepens the map of lines on her face that betray years of working nights. She’s wearing her usual fit-for-all-occasions slacks.
Normally Kath and I can’t chat enough. We became friends after I found her in the ground floor hallway. She’d had a nasty fall on getting back from her weekly shift at a conservation charity shop. To thank me for taking her to the surgery, she’d baked a cake and invited me up to her flat, which is above mine. As soon as I saw her shelves full of books and framed photos of pets and safari holidays, I knew we’d be friends. She loves animals but her nephew, Norm, won’t even let her have a goldfish in his flat. At the request of his mum, Kath’s sister, he begrudgingly rents it to her at a low rate because her pension is small.
We came to an agreement that she should bang her broom on her floor if she needs help. The flat feels so empty now, so quiet, and I wish feisty Kath would ask for help more often. When I knew last year that London would be my forever home, instead of renting I dipped into family savings put aside for me. It made sense for Lenny to move in.
‘Violet?’ Kath cocks her head and nods encouragement.
‘In the end, Lenny didn’t even bother lying. I read out Beatrix’s text and he crumbled. I’d told myself that her message must have been a joke.’
‘Oh, darling…’
‘I know. Talk about na?ve. Of course it makes complete sense now – all those late nights he spent supposedly at work. He spent half an hour saying that things had just been difficult, with him worrying about getting a promotion and having to put superhuman effort into his job. He mumbled some vague apology and gave a little speech about how we’d grown apart. How neither he nor Beatrix could fight the attraction.’ My voice breaks. ‘It makes me realise that he only really saw me as a homely comfort in a strange city. After all this time, London doesn’t feel unfamiliar to him any more, and that makes me redundant.’ I curl my fists. ‘It’s as if I’ve always, secretly, been second best. She’s glamorous, Kath. Really stylish. I could never?—’
‘Stop that this instant. No one lies on their deathbed wishing they’d had a wider thigh gap.’ She lifts my chin. ‘What counts is kindness. Honesty. Being true to yourself. You’ve got all of those things in buckets. The rest is just fluff. It truly is his loss.’
We get out of the car. She links arms with me. Her arthritis has been worse during the cold snap. As we approach the double doors, she gives me a sharp look.
‘Don’t you dare waste one more second worrying about Lenny. If he can deceive you like that, then you’re well rid of him. Imagine the heartbreak if this had happened after you’d signed a marriage certificate and maybe had kids.’
Mum said the same thing from Alicante last night. She told me to take a holiday and fly over to spend time with her and my stepdad Ryan. Oh, I was tempted, hearing the clink of glasses that no doubt contained sangria in the background. My imagination ran free for a moment and I could practically smell sea salt and the sweet fragrance of vanilla orchids emanating from my phone. But I won’t visit. She’s finally living a carefree life full of sun and blue skies. Who am I to cast a shadow over that?
‘You’re right,’ I say and do my best to put on an optimistic voice, having said too much. I don’t want to worry Kath.
We are just about to go in when the others appear. Kath kisses her good friend and ex-colleague Nora. Both are in their eighties. She has short, dyed red hair and uses any excuse to wear her faux fur black jacket – much to animal-lover Kath’s disapproval, who thinks it still sends out the wrong message.
Widowed Nora is a former hospital receptionist and loves a good old-fashioned romance. She’s a fan of modern celebrity who’s addicted to gossip magazines, keeps up with the latest urban slang, and knows everything about the Kardashians down to their shoe sizes. She’s also probably the local cinema’s most frequent visitor. Married Pauline, in her sixties, worked in admin within the police force and likes nothing more than a good detective novel. She wears a smart skirt and secretarial chignon and has a reputation for being handier with a screwdriver than Nick Knowles. A trip to a DIY store is one of her favourite outings. The book club is just made up of us four regulars, although other residents come and go, depending on the books.
They each give me a big hug. We head down to the pub – the others’ choice of venue for the club. This week’s read is a steamy romance.
‘I’ve not slept much this week,’ says Nora as we walk the short distance down the main road to the Frog and Duck. A cutting breeze blows, and I pull down my hat. ‘ A Fireman’s Burning Desires … Goodness, this book has made me want to relive my youth.’
‘Me too.’ Kath tightens her scarf. ‘Mind you, I’m not sure I could have kept up with his pace in the bedroom, and that’s after years of working through the night making beds and giving baths. I’d need a hoist for some of those positions.’
The four of them laughed.
‘That’s what we like about you, Violet,’ says Pauline as we enter the pub. Smart pine chairs with sage cushions give the place warmth. The carpet is dark green and the walls are painted magnolia. Glossy-leaved plants punctuate the room. The effect is fresh and cheerful like a sunny garden conservatory. ‘You don’t assume that because we’re pensioners we’re prudes. I mean, let’s face it,’ she continues and heads for a table by the window, ‘with our decades of life experience, the last thing that’s going to shock us is a bit of rough and tumble, and bad language.’
‘It’s lovemaking, Pauline, lovemaking,’ says romantic Nora and rolls her eyes as she sits down.
Kath and I smile at each other and I head to the bar to buy the customary four gin and tonics. All of us put in ten pounds a week, which supplies us with enough drinks and crisps. It takes me a while to attract the barman’s attention. I carry the tray back to the table.
‘Squad goals,’ says Nora and raises her glass.
I’m the only one with any idea what that means.
‘It’s an interesting point,’ I say. ‘Is it lovemaking or simply lust from the start?’ We discuss the main characters’ relationship. Without realising it, I zone out and stare through the window’s glass. For Lenny, was it just sex with me, with no real emotion? Self-doubt has filled the space he left.
‘You okay, girl?’ asks Kath. I meet her gaze and she offers me a Kettle chip before taking the last one. Three pairs of eyes focus on me.
‘He’s not worth it,’ says Nora. ‘You’re a marvellous woman.’
‘It’s true,’ says Pauline. ‘He’ll wake up one day and realise what a gem he’s lost. I was engaged to someone else, you know, before I married Bill.’
‘What happened?’ I ask. The others lean forward.
‘He cheated on me. I found out from an anonymous phone call that turned out to be made by the other woman. She’d got sick of waiting for him to break off the engagement. He’d dragged it out for weeks – said he hadn’t wanted to hurt me.’
‘You’ve never told us that before,’ says Kath.
‘I don’t often think of it – and that’s proof that given time, hearts do heal.’
‘Lenny said that – that he couldn’t bring himself to tell me, although I have my suspicions that he was only waiting to move into Beatrix’s new flat. I’m so stupid.’
‘What an absolute rotter,’ says Nora.
‘I scratched my ex’s car with my favourite screwdriver. Something I hope I wouldn’t do now. He had the audacity to call the police,’ says Pauline. ‘I got on very well with the officer. We got chatting… That’s when I applied for a job in the force.’
‘Something good will come out of this too, sweetheart,’ says Kath. ‘I dated a doctor once. It turned out he was married. To get over him, I needed a change of direction. That’s how I became interested in mental health and eventually specialised and became a senior nurse in that area.’
For the first time since Lenny and I broke up, a dense fog of despair is thinning. That’s one of the reasons I like friends from an older generation. They give you perspective. A number of years from now and hopefully I’ll hardly remember Lenny.
I go to the bar and buy another round of drinks, determined to make the most of the rest of the meeting. Arms linked, the four of us eventually walk back to the retirement home, exhausting our memories of previous romances. My first love was an assistant manager at the local bookshop where I had a Saturday job. It was then that I realised the most attractive thing about a man was the size of his reading list.
As we arrive back, Hugo pulls into the drive. His gran lives there too, and now and again our paths cross. A week after Lenny left, I still hadn’t mentioned the break-up at work. Then Hugo left for his annual two-week skiing trip.
‘How was the snow? Not as slushy as here I hope,’ I say after greeting his gran. She goes over to the others and in minute detail describes the lamb shank Hugo bought her for lunch.
‘Fantastic,’ he says and looks me up and down. ‘But it’s you who looks like they’ve been on the slopes. I didn’t know you were on a diet. Which one are you following? The 5:2? Or the South Beach? Whichever one it is, you look great.’
Diet? Hardly, but over the last week or so, both Kath and Farah have said I look drawn. I believed them. I hardly sleep at night because I’m over-analysing where Lenny and I went wrong.
Hugo’s the first person to indicate that the single life suits me after all. I look down. Actually my trousers do seem a bit baggy and the waist slips from side to side in a way it never had before. If anything, surely I look a bit of a mess? Yet for some reason, along with my friends’ camaraderie, Hugo’s comment makes me just a bit more resilient.