Chapter 40
40
ELENA
Elena pulled up on her drive. Friday. She exhaled, impatient to get inside and spend the evening escaping into fiction. Last night she’d finished The Light We Lost , the story of a couple continually brought together, then torn apart. Elena rested her forehead on the steering wheel for a moment. She’d taken Rory’s belongings to work in bin liners on Wednesday, the day after their argument, and gave them to him, from the boot of her car, at lunch. Neither she nor Rory had mentioned their fallout. Thankfully everyone in the office was too hungover to notice the lack of banter between them, and the rest of the week, with Christmas imminent, and all the preparation that entailed, took the others’ attention. She’d batted away Gary’s questions, saying she was still thinking about what he said.
Rory had come over to her desk after she’d handed his stuff to him in the car park. She was reading. ‘Elena…’
She’d not replied.
‘I won’t come to the party. I’ll take Dad, Jenny and Julian out for a meal instead. ’
She’d not looked up from her book when she replied, ‘Mum and Dad will ask questions. Tahoor too, Gayle maybe, and everyone from the office, especially Gary. It’s probably best that the four of you just come.’ Despite everything, she’d love to meet his father and the girlfriend.
‘You’re sure? Okay. Whatever’s easiest. Shall I come early and help arrange?—’
‘I don’t need any help, thank you.’ This was true. She’d cracked on with organising it the last couple of days, and, begrudgingly, admitted Rory’s email had helped. Elena Swan would see her twenties out with a bang.
Yesterday Rory had approached her once more and asked about Brandy and Snap. Again it was lunch time and she was reading. Books had always been her safe place when the real world got too scary. She’d dived into a new story today, a light-hearted romance by a favourite author, who focused on the journey, not the destination, of the story, understanding that her readership liked a predictable ending, because life is so often not like that. Knowing what was going to happen, at least in fiction, offered security at a hazardous time.
Elena suggested Rory take Brandy and Snap home after the party. Truth is, she was hoping he’d somehow forget. She’d apologised to them as soon as she got home after the quiz night for asking Rory to take them away, and for swearing. She’d never normally refer to them with the f-word. They were beautiful and clever, merging in with their leafy background, and she admired the contented life they led, a life humans might consider boring. Snap looked especially clever lately, hanging upside down.
The sharp December air brought Elena back to the present as she opened the car door. Tahoor came out and hurried over as sporadic snowflakes tumbled down .
‘Now, I certainly have not been curtain-twitching and waiting for you to return…’ he said, a guilty look on his face.
She couldn’t help smiling.
‘But I was hoping you’d come in for a cup of tea and try a samosa. I made a batch for the party tomorrow. Young Sharnaz encouraged me. Isha always did the cooking. I didn’t want to come empty-handed. She wouldn’t have approved of that.’
No thanks. I just want to go into my house and lose myself in a novel.
‘How lovely! Sounds great, Tahoor. I didn’t have time for lunch, so a samosa will hit the spot.’ Didn’t have an appetite, more like.
She followed him inside, telling herself to cheer up for her neighbour’s sake, and sat in the lounge that looked more like it used to when Isha was around. Half-heartedly, she scrolled through her phone until Tahoor came in, looking proud of himself, carrying a tray with a teapot on it, with two cups, milk and sugar.
‘I feel like a queen,’ she said to Tahoor, and beaming he went back into the kitchen. Elena thought of the card Morag had given her, the king of hearts.
He came back with a bowl of samosas, handed her a plate and she helped herself to one. He sat down in the armchair.
‘They are vegetarian,’ he said. ‘Just in case. You never know what anyone is these days. Sharnaz has one school friend who is gluten-free, another is vegan. I can’t keep up. In my day, you ate what was on your plate or you got nothing. This is one of Isha’s recipes. I hope I’ve done her justice.’
Elena took a bite. Wow. Those flavours. Subtle but zingy.
Tahoor held his breath.
‘It’s delicious! Any chance of another?’ Elena asked, realising how hungry she was .
Tahoor’s chest plumped out and he beamed again. ‘No Rory with you tonight? Has he gone off on some sports expedition? Take a couple back for him. I never realised how relaxing cooking was.’
She choked on the flaky pastry and had a coughing fit.
Tahoor put down his plate. ‘You okay, lass? What’s up? You look as if I’ve made those pastries sour, not savoury.’
‘Oh… it went down the wrong way.’
He tilted his head. ‘That’s all?’
‘I’m tired, to be honest – drank a bit too much earlier in the week, what with the Christmas staff night out.’ She told him about the pub quiz questions, but eventually he put up his hand.
‘Elena. What’s up? I may be a silly old man, but I can tell when someone’s sad. I’ve seen that look enough in the mirror these last months. You might try to hide it, but I can also see through the bluster. Have you and young Rory argued?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Because you’ve been so happy these last few weeks, since he moved in.’
Like popping candy, Gary had said. Her shoulders bobbed up and down. Tahoor folded his arms.
‘Our friendship’s probably over,’ she mumbled.
‘Oh, Elena. I’m sorry, lass.’
‘Don’t start up about me running out of time to get married, Tahoor,’ she said playfully.
He cleared his throat with embarrassment. ‘I wouldn’t. I’ve done a lot of talking in the past few days with my daughter. You see, since, well… that red card you gave me.’ He pointed to it on the mantelpiece.
‘You kept it!’ she said.
‘It’s helped me realise that maybe I have held all my grief in. I was telling young Rory that… that recently, crying has helped. ’
She leaned forward. ‘I’m so very glad.’
‘It’s brought me and Yalina closer. We’ve shared tears like never before and talked a lot on the phone lately. Every day, and not just checking in; we’ve talked about “things that matter”, as she puts it. My… my attitude to women and marriage came up.’
Elena put down her drink.
‘It’s as if my daughter can say more to me, now that we’re… sharing feelings. So I explained. You see…’ He wiped his mouth with a napkin; a small touch, but it showed how much better he was. ‘My mother had big ambitions for me – and for herself, back in Pakistan. Despite not having the chances in education that I did, she’d forged a career in the customer service side of banking. Dad always supported her. She was most unusual compared to the women in our street and compared to our relatives. Some of them agreed to look after me when she continued to work after I was born – only part-time, but it was enough for the community, for some of our family, to frown. She was called names, and was sneered at once by a disgruntled customer at the bank who said women belonged in the home, doing housework, not in an office, sticking their nose into his finances – he refused to be served by her.’
‘Tahoor, that’s awful,’ she murmured, forgetting her own problems for a moment.
‘I was proud of her, like Dad. She was one reason I went into banking – but I used to think her life would be so much easier if she’d stayed at home. The other children used to make nasty comments, said I didn’t have a proper mummy. I hated seeing her upset. She cried after that episode with the rude man. She worked so very hard, too, getting up early to make dinner before going to work. Dad backed up her career, but it went without saying that she still did the housework and cooking. I don’t blame him. It’s the way it was, at the time. ’
‘But this isn’t Pakistan back then. This is England, now, and us women still have big battles but there are laws in place to protect us and?—’
‘I know, and Pakistan has been slowly moving forwards. I’m working on changing, too.’ He put a hand on his chest. ‘It’s a gut instinct, I’ve got to care. You’ve been a good neighbour and it’s hard to ignore that voice in my head hoping a man will come along and look after you. It’s not because I think you’re less capable.’ He gave her a sheepish look.
Elena wanted to hug him.
Though it didn’t mean she’d be getting rid of the card system.
He talked about how proud he was of his Yalina, how she’d worked so hard to become an IT consultant. ‘My Isha had always wanted to be a homemaker. She got on well with my mother, who said life was about respecting each other’s choices. Nothing gave Isha more pleasure than watching us enjoy her cooking, than keeping things neat and tidy, than organising Yalina’s school life, and she was a whizz with budgeting. She instilled in Yalina that she could achieve anything she wanted; that she should follow her heart. Isha would give me a pointed look if I ever went on about grandchildren and Yalina giving up the IT work.’ He picked up his drink again. ‘The old me would be very sad that you and Rory had argued because that would mean a potential husband, to provide for you, was maybe out of your life.’
Elena got up and went to the mantelpiece. She waved the red card at him and they both smiled as she sat down again, clutching it.
Tahoor gently tapped the card. ‘You’re allowed to share too. Cry even. What happened with Rory? It might help to talk about it.’
Caught unawares, a tear did trickle down her cheek. She’d been so blindsided by the situation with Rory that she’d hardly thought about the prospect of her death day tomorrow. Tahoor delved into his pocket and pulled out a clean, cloth handkerchief, ironed into a square. ‘Keep it,’ he said.
‘You’re very kind.’ Elena dabbed her eyes. ‘He… he reckons I’m a weak idiot. Not that people with… with what he talked about are somehow less, they’re not… but me, my common sense, my… my solidity… it’s how I’ve always defined myself. Take that away and what’s left? Something bad happened years ago, you see, and he’s come up with an explanation that questions everything I ever believed about who I am.’ Her body shuddered. ‘I thought he and I were friends, good friends, that he understood me, had respect. But in his opinion, I made this whole traumatic thing up when I was ten and…’ She gave a wry look. ‘Sorry. I’m probably not making much sense.’
‘The opposite, my dear – this shows how very much you care for the lad. I can’t imagine him – or anyone – ever believing you’re an idiot.’ He patted her arm. ‘You and Rory work together on the same team. You must disagree every now and then on a professional level. Goodness knows I did with my colleagues at the bank, over differences from how best to pitch a new product to food going missing in the staff fridge. So how would you handle a disagreement at work?’
Elena stuffed the handkerchief up her sleeve and sniffed. ‘Research his point of view for myself.’
Tahoor shrugged. ‘There you go.’
Elena stayed for another cup of tea, finding, to her surprise, she didn’t want to leave. She suggested a game of cards and tried to give him a very stern look when she worked out he’d let her win, but instead blew him a kiss. Back at hers, Elena settled in the lounge after spraying Brandy and Snap’s bramble leaves. Tahoor was right. The only way to convince Rory he was wrong would be to come at it from a position of knowledge.
Coat still on until the heating warmed up, she ignored the light-hearted romance she wanted to dive back into, opened her laptop and typed ‘OCD’ into the search engine.