Chapter 34 #2
‘Here,’ said Zander, wheeling himself away from his desk and clutching a thick wodge of purple paper, ‘this was from Bee. She posted it to me with my birthday gift. Quite inappropriate I think you’ll agree after you’ve read it.
’ He passed the purple paper to Ana. ‘She sent me this, too.’ He handed a sheet of white paper to Flint.
It was a will, signed by Bee and witnessed by a Miss Taka Yukomo.
‘Who the hell is Taka Yukomo?’ said Flint.
Ana shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Sushi,’ said Flint, clicking his fingers, ‘the coroner’s report said she ate sushi during her last hours. She must have taken the will down to the restaurant with her that night. Got a waitress to witness it for her. Posted it that night.’
‘Yes,’ said Ana, ‘and Amy said she went out that night, at about nine o’clock. She must have decided to go out for one last meal. On her own …’ She petered off as she felt tears threatening. What an absolutely tragic thought.
‘Your mother’s not going to like this, Ana.’
‘What?’ Ana looked over Flint’s shoulder.
According to Bee’s will, everything was going to Zander.
The cottage. The money in her bank accounts. Her royalty payments. Her books and CDs. The ￡7,000 hidden under her bed in a cigar box.
‘But I visited her solicitor,’ said Ana, scanning the page, ‘he said she hadn’t made a will. That he’d advised her to and she refused. I mean – does this actually have any legal standing without a copy being lodged with her solicitor?’
Flint and Zander shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t worry about that right now, anyway,’ said Zander. ‘Read that letter first. Read that letter and then try making sense of things. It’s quite rambling – incoherent. A bit of a stream of consciousness, you might say …’
Ana perched herself on the edge of Zander’s bed and began reading.
28 July 2000
My dearest Zander,
I went to the shops on Tuesday, looking for a birthday present for you.
I went into Hampstead. It was a beautiful day.
I had lunch at a French café and sat outside on the pavement.
I had a bowl of Vichyssoise. It was freshly made.
It was delicious. With it I had an iced coffee, served in a glass mug with whipped cream on top.
After lunch I went to Gap and bought you the enclosed clothes.
I hope you like them. And then I just wandered around for a while, soaking up the sun, people-watching, window-shopping.
I bought myself a pair of shoes from pied à Terre and a dress from Ronit Zilkha.
You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this.
Well – there is a reason. It’s because now, from the perspective of today, I can see that Tuesday was a turning point in my life.
And that wandering around Hampstead High Street that afternoon was the end of an era for me.
And if I’d known it at the time, maybe I’d have appreciated it more.
Because – and I don’t really expect you to understand this–you may have the intellect and bearing of a man of thirty but you still have the emotional capacity of any sixteen-year-old boy – because about ten minutes after I bought my shoes, I saw Ed.
I saw Ed and Tina, and they had their three babies with them.
Three tiny new babies in a huge buggy. Tina was adjusting the parasol on their pram and Ed was holding all the baby stuff.
And then Ed leaned down into the pram and I saw him smile, a smile of complete and utter adoration.
And then they carried on walking and everywhere they went, people smiled at them, complete strangers smiled at them, because they had three perfect, identical babies and the two of them looked so proud and complete.
I was wearing pink-silk capri pants that cost me ￡140 and a black mesh vest that was ￡35.
My shoes were pink stilettos from LK Bennet.
￡115. I spent half an hour doing my make-up that morning – the usual slap, you know – black liner, red lips, an inch of foundation.
I’d just had my hair done at John Frieda, the day before.
That cost me ￡90. It was pinned up with a big silk rose from Rosie Loves Johnny. ￡18.
Tina was wearing a pair of baggy leggings and a big vest with a pair of old sandals. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she was wearing no make-up. She looked knackered and her gut was enormous.
You can guess who looked the most beautiful.
Something inside me died then, Zander. Not because I felt like it should have been me or because I wanted three babies or anything.
I got over Ed a long time ago, as you know, and I’m not the world’s most maternal person.
But my desire to keep taking the path I’ve been on for the last fifteen years just evaporated at that moment.
The past fifteen years have been all about covering my tracks, patching things up, telling one lie to cover another to cover another to cover another …
the past fifteen years should have been about building a life, growing, developing, taking whatever fate threw at me.
But I haven’t been able to do that because every move I’ve made, every decision I’ve taken has been about one moment in my life that can never be erased and can, I now realize, never be put right.
I got home that afternoon, and all I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and cry.
But Mr Arif was here. In my flat. Just sitting there on my sofa.
John got out last week. The porter found him wandering around on the third floor.
I went looking for him and I found him at the porter’s desk being hand-fed tuna chunks from a can.
The porter must have told Mr Arif about him.
Mr Arif went mad. His face went all purple and his eyes were bulging and he was shouting, calling me a cheat and a liar, telling me he should kick me out.
He scared me, and I’m a hard person to scare.
He made me take John, there and then, in his box, and get rid of him.
I took him to the cottage, that afternoon.
I spent the night there with him, but at about six in the morning I woke up having a panic attack.
For the first time in years. My heart was racing, I was sweating and I thought I was having a heart attack.
I could hear noises out in the garden. I was paranoid.
I thought I was dying, Zander. I was terrified.
So I just threw on some clothes, put John in his box and left.
I took the train, left my bike – I was in too much of a state even to get the key in the ignition – and went straight to Lol’s.
Asked her to have John for a while – which wasn’t ideal – she hates cats, but what choice did I have?
I’ve just spoken to Lol on the phone. John’s gone.
She left a window open in her flat and he’s gone.
I’m devastated. It just feels like the end of everything.
I know what you’ll say – he’s just a cat.
Just a big old silly old cat. But he was more than that.
Much more. I mean – what responsibilities do I actually have, Zander?
None – that’s right. No children, no mortgage, no job, no family.
I’m not even really responsible for you.
High Cedars is responsible for you. And come September, you won’t need me at all.
The only creature on this earth who I had any responsibility for, who needed me, and he’s gone.
probably squashed flat somewhere in some dark lonely road.
Or stolen. Stolen and sold to some fat woman who’ll feed him cream buns and give him a heart attack.
I’m feeling heartbroken, Zander and so, so guilty.
Now that you’re moving on with your life, now that you don’t need me any more and now that I don’t even have John to concern myself with, I can’t see the point of lying any more.
I’ve realized something this week – I’ve had enough.
I’ve had enough of patching over things, of compromising, of living half a life.
And in order to stop feeling like this I’m going to have to do something I never ever thought I’d do.
Something that will mean the end of you and I.
For ever. I’m going to have to tell you about 1986 …