Chapter 54
FIFTY-FOUR
I descended the stairs slowly, my bag over my shoulder. It was eight in the morning – a cold December day. The high-ceilinged, airy rooms on the ground floor of the house were almost as bright as outdoors, their huge windows reflected in bright rectangles on the glossy polished floors.
I glanced through to the kitchen, where I’d spent so many evenings at the rickety pine table, chatting to Orla. Soon it would be gone – the shabby 1960s units stripped out, the chipped freestanding cooker consigned to a skip, replaced with fresh new cupboards and counters where Orla and Beatrice would sit.
Outside, the trees in the square were bare, the black metal railings rimed with frost. In a couple of months, snowdrops would appear in the grass, followed by crocuses and, later, daffodils would herald the proper start of spring. I knew that when I saw them it would be with a start of surprise, rather than the gradual, almost imperceptible transition I’d observed from summer to autumn and autumn to winter.
I paused and looked back at the house – the tall, elegant facade that had welcomed me so many times, the high-up window that had been mine now in darkness. I felt the need to find some way of saying goodbye to it, fixing it in my memory forever, only I couldn’t think what that might be.
The sound of footsteps and voices disturbed me and I looked around. Three people were approaching the house: a young man carrying a briefcase and a couple a few years older than me, who were holding hands. She was wearing a long red coat that flew out behind her in the sharp morning breeze; he had blond hair that shone almost golden as they passed beneath a lamp post.
Then I recognised the man with the briefcase. He was the estate agent who’d come to the door in summer, interrupting me and Luke in the garden, insistent on seeing Orla. Surely he wasn’t coming to her house now, not coming to show this couple round and persuade Orla to sell it to them?
But it was the house three doors away that they were approaching: number eight.
‘Now I’ll be straight with you,’ the estate agent said. ‘It’s not pretty in there. It’s an ambitious project.’
‘We’re ambitious people,’ the blond man said.
‘Speak for yourself,’ the woman teased. ‘I just want a place to live.’
‘Then let’s take a look.’
I watched as the estate agent fumbled a key into the lock, turned it and opened the door, but I couldn’t see what lay inside. It didn’t really matter, because whatever it was would soon change. That young couple would move in and set to work as Luke had done, ripping out plasterboard, sanding floors, evicting spiders. Before long the rooms would fill with the clink of their wine glasses at dinner, the voices of their friends, the laughter of their children.
I took a last look at the closed door of number five, but I didn’t feel the need for a farewell any more.
I felt as if I had been released from a spell.
Slowly, I began my usual walk to the bus stop, my shoulders hunched beneath my coat and my eyes watering from the cold.
With the same inexorable progress as the changing seasons, my life would move on – I knew that. Emily had talked about a girls’ holiday to Ibiza in the summer. I’d been awarded a Christmas bonus that I planned to spend on some new clothes, the knowledge and skills I’d gleaned from Orla allowing me to pick out pieces that suited me and adjust them so they fitted perfectly.
I wondered if I’d ever thread a needle or pin a dart without thinking of her, remembering the quizzical tilt of her head as she assessed the drape of a fabric, the scent of her skin as she leaned in towards me to pull up a zip, the touch of her cool fingers on my skin.
At first, I thought the hand I felt on my shoulder was my imagination, my mind playing tricks on me as I thought of Orla.
But then I heard a voice say my name.
‘Livvie? I thought it was you. You were miles away.’
It was Samantha, my old housemate. She, too, was bundled up in a winter coat, a bright red scarf with reindeer faces knitted into its pattern wound tightly round her neck. A strand of hair clung to her lipgloss.
I anticipated the sinking feeling of anxiety I’d felt when I’d seen her in the past, but there was nothing.
‘Hi,’ I said, smiling as naturally as I would on seeing any other old acquaintance.
‘On your way to work, then?’ she asked. ‘Daily grind, nine to five?’
‘That’s right. You too?’
‘As per. I started a new job in October. Me and Mands are living in a flat just over there.’ She gestured. ‘I’m surprised I haven’t bumped into you before. Do you still go to the Crooked Billet on a Friday?’
‘Not really,’ I said.
‘Listen.’ She fell into step next to me. ‘About that night – that time you were there with your friends.’
It felt like a long time ago – but Samantha was capable of nursing a grudge for far more than a few months, I knew. If she’d held Beatrice’s actions that night against me, no doubt I was going to hear all about it.
‘Go on,’ I said.
‘Remember – your mate snogged Gary on the dance floor?’ To my surprise, she laughed, as if it was some hilarious memory we shared and dug out every now and again to giggle over together.
‘Yeah, I remember that.’
‘I broke up with him that night. I should have done it sooner – he was always a cheater. I don’t know why I couldn’t see it before. He treated me like shit, always trying to make me feel bad about myself, about other girls.’
‘Sounds like you’re well rid of him.’
‘Too right I am. What an arsehole! And you know what, I’ve got your friend to thank for making me realise it. That night – it was like the straw that broke the donkey’s back, you know.’
Camel , I thought. ‘It must have been hard at the time.’
She laughed. ‘He cried and everything. Loser. I chucked him out into the street and threw his stuff out the window. It was great.’
I couldn’t help smiling, imagining Samantha’s rage directed in the right direction for once.
Encouraged, she went on, ‘But anyway, Livvie. That whole thing made me realise how badly I’d behaved towards you. I was a right bitch. It was my own insecurities, the way he kept going on about you. Amanda tried to tell me but I wasn’t having any of it.’
‘Sometimes it’s hard to see these things when you’re in the middle of them.’
‘Yeah. You always were a wise owl, weren’t you? Anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. So, I’m, like, sorry. And everything.’
‘You don’t have to apologise.’ It was true, but I was touched all the same. I reached out and gave her a clumsy half-hug.
‘I’ve moved on,’ she said proudly. ‘I’m seeing such a nice guy now; he’s a branch manager at Tesco. Are you dating anyone?’
‘Not right now. I was, but not any more. We broke up.’
‘Dean’s got loads of single friends. We should have drinks down the Crooked Billet one evening – I’ll introduce you.’
‘That would be great,’ I said, knowing it would never happen.
‘And listen – I don’t suppose you’re looking for a place to stay? Only Mands and me have got a spare room in our flat. The girl who was living with us is moving in with her bloke. It’s lush – there’s an en-suite and everything, so you wouldn’t have to fish my hair out of the plughole.’
I laughed. ‘Sounds like an offer I couldn’t refuse. But I’m all sorted – I’m actually moving to West London, to live with my friend Emily.’
‘Ooooh, West London? Fancy.’
‘It’s only Shepherd’s Bush.’
‘Nice. Anyway, I just thought I’d ask. Drop us a text if you change your mind.’
‘I will.’
We’d reached my bus stop by now so I stopped walking, hoping in spite of myself that Samantha wouldn’t be getting the same bus.
But she said, ‘Is this you? Going into town as usual? I’d best be on my way too or I’ll get a bollocking from my manager. Let me know about that drink, all right?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘And merry Christmas.’
‘Merry Christmas.’
We leaned in and hugged each other briefly, then she waved a mittened hand and turned away, walking as quickly as she could in her high heels on the frosty pavement.
I remembered how much power she’d had over me – how I’d almost feared her. All that was gone now – she was just another young woman, making her way in the world as best she could. Ultimately, I supposed I had Beatrice to thank for that.
I wondered if Beatrice even remembered that night, kissing a random man to prove a point. I wondered if I’d ever tell her about seeing Samantha that morning, and the epiphany she’d unwittingly caused.
But I doubted I ever would.