Chapter 8
8
ELENA
Whistling greeted Elena as she walked into the kitchen, its windows steamed over, the air fragrant with pesto and garlic.
‘Took you forever to wash your hair,’ said Rory, and he passed her a glass of wine.
They’d grabbed a burger after the pool before heading to the cinema, his idea. She’d done her best to focus on the latest Marvel movie. Elena was no movie snob and, like her books, she gave every sort of film a go: literary, commercial, adult, teen. No surprise that Rory was a huge fan, what with the movie’s daredevil action. He’d insisted on buying a bucket of popcorn and two bright-blue slushy drinks. She caught him giving her worried glances during the screening, perhaps concerned she’d get bored, despite the jump scares.
‘I came to look for you but your room was empty and the shower wasn’t running, just like last time,’ he said and sipped his drink.
Elena’s phone rang and speedily she answered it, glad to walk away from the inquisitive look Rory had shot her. Ten minutes later, she returned to the kitchen .
‘Mum and Dad have invited me to dinner, tomorrow night. They said to ask you along. It’s Moussaka Monday.’
‘It’s what ?’
‘On their first holiday together, back in the eighties, in Kos, they wanted to go somewhere fancy for their first proper meal out together. Back home they’d only ever had takeout as a treat. So they sat down in this restaurant and without a word of Greek, simply pointed to a moussaka dish other diners were eating. It was only when they asked for the bill that they realised they’d gate-crashed a wedding.’
‘Way to go!’
‘To add to the celebrations, Dad got down on one knee and proposed!’
‘Wow. What a story. Remember our first meal together?’
Her brow furrowed.
‘I’d just begun my first ever contract job with Bingley Biscuits and you insisted on taking me out after work, for food. We’d brainstormed, for fun, during our lunch hour, over the concept for a new stuffed cookie range you’d heard about from Mary in product development. Neither of us had eaten a thing since breakfast.’
Elena always took new team members out to get to know them, whether they were temporary or permanent. Going the extra mile had become a way of life. Sometimes it wore her down, but Derek approved and Mum and Dad showed off about her to friends, mentioning her commitment to her career, her fancy house. ‘Yes, I remember. You researched the figures – the jump in stuffed cookie sales during the pandemic had been sustained and they were still tracking well. I thought we could pitch them as being stuffed with love and comfort. It was a shame the product was never taken forward.’
‘It had been a long day so I suggested takeout back at mine,’ he said. ‘We picked up fish ’n’ chips on the way, your treat. You asked the guy – he wasn’t English – to shake your fish free of excess batter before frying. It was noisy. He gave you a really odd look. Our order took forever and when we got back to mine and opened the food, we understood why.’
‘He must have only heard the words free and batter , taking free to be the word number three, so frying the cod that many times, each with a new coating of batter. That fish would have made a good rugby ball. Talk about a thick, leathery coating.’
‘Yet you ate it. No complaints. I’ve never forgotten that.’
A flicker of something pleasant tickled her insides.
‘Moussaka Monday sounds good. It’s great that your parents are so romantic. That’s the dream, isn’t it – finding someone to spend your whole life with?’
Was it? Elena had never allowed herself to contemplate that.
She wanted to ask about his parents. He only spoke about his dad, who lived on the outskirts of Manchester, was called Mike and worked as a plumber. Rory drove over there every now and again for dinner, and his dad caught the train into town and they’d get lunch and go to the cinema. Rory was a talker, a doer, as vibrant as they came – yet, on the subject of his mother, he closed down like a funfair that had suddenly lost its electricity supply.
‘Tahoor’s wife, Isha, made a mean moussaka,’ said Elena. ‘She’d often bring me round a portion of their dinner – dishes from around the world, though the biryanis from her childhood were the best.’
Rory told her about Tahoor’s bedroom and a sense that he was struggling to keep on top of managing the house.
‘Nine months isn’t that long, I suppose,’ said Elena. ‘Not when you’ve been with someone most of your life.’
‘But her nightdress is still on the pillow next to his. ’
Elena sat up at the breakfast bar and put down her phone and glass. She rubbed her forehead. ‘I should have gone around more often; should have realised how lonely he felt. On reflection, his shirts always look un-ironed, his lawn overgrown, and often, when he opens the door, there is a pile of unopened mail at the side.’
Rory left the pan and went over, squeezed her shoulder. Out of nowhere a lump appeared in her throat. No one ever comforted Elena because she’d learnt so long ago to hide any worries. ‘You aren’t responsible for everyone’s happiness. But maybe I’ll pretend to enjoy myself more when he comes around for the football on Wednesday after work.’
‘When he what ?’
‘Didn’t I mention it? I found it hard to say no.’
She pictured the unworn nightdress next to Tahoor every night. ‘Let’s have him over to dinner as well, then? Isha once said, out of all the complex recipes she made, he was like an excited schoolboy whenever she dished up fried eggs, baked beans and chips.’
‘I’m in. His wife sounds pretty cool.’
‘Isha would come over for coffee, before she got ill. She grew up in a residential area, in Karachi. Her family lived in the same street as friends who knew Tahoor’s family. As a young boy, he’d visit often and play tag outside with a group of lads. Isha was a bit of a loner and enjoyed kite flying. They were too shy to talk to each other, until their late teens. She showed me photos of the harbour, Mohatta Palace, fantastic parks. They both had siblings there and used to visit once a year.’
‘I did cliff diving in Southern Pakistan, one summer holiday whilst I was at uni. A group of us went backpacking. An incredible holiday. I only spent one day in Karachi, but I loved it. ’
‘Is there any country you haven’t visited?’ she asked sceptically. ‘How do you find time for all these holidays?’
‘Contract work is something of an enabler.’
‘So why sign up to Bingley Biscuits permanently?’
‘Maybe it’s time to grow up,’ he said and gave a wry smile.
He’d taken the words from her mouth. Or so she thought.
Don’t say that, Rory. Don’t stop being everything I want to be – brave, daring, living life spontaneously, more afraid of missing out than of things going wrong.
‘Isha wore the same charm bracelet every day,’ said Elena. ‘It had a kite on it. Tahoor bought it for her the day they got married. If the wind ever got up, I’d see them sometimes, in their back garden, flying a kite.’
‘I got invited to a kite fighting session once,’ said Rory. ‘But it didn’t appeal. I love kites because they look so carefree. They’re a bit like guppies splashing amongst ripples of water.’ He gave a sheepish smile. ‘Saw a shoal of those whilst big-wave surfing in South America.’ They sank into silence and he opened the oven door to check on the garlic bread.
‘Sorry I didn’t feel up to making that roast after all, what with… what happened at the pool,’ said Elena brightly, as if she were over it. ‘But you didn’t need to make dinner again. I don’t expect you to “earn your keep”, so to speak. Weren’t you meeting a friend… Izzy, tonight?’
‘Change of plans. She’s come down with that flu bug going around. It’s only pasta and you haven’t tasted it yet.’ He cocked his head. ‘Let’s do the maths of who’s made the most meals since I moved in. We’ve not eaten together every night, for a start, and?—’
‘Let’s not,’ she groaned, and he gave a soft laugh. She liked that sound. ‘And fair point. I’ve kept to myself a lot, working on my pitch to Derek for many evenings, and you often eat out with friends, like after that axe-throwing event. Still can’t believe I lost that bet about you hitting at least one bullseye at it. It can’t be nearly as hard as your other extreme sports, like skydiving, and you do those easily enough.’
‘Firstly, axe-throwing is not an extreme sport…’
‘Said no sane person ever.’
‘Secondly, what makes you think I’m good at my hobbies?’
‘Er, because you’re still alive?’
He shrugged. ‘No. I always find it hard to hit the exact landing target when skydiving, I fall off my surfboard more than most people, and am never the fastest at mountain biking.’
‘Then why do them?’ she asked.
‘I’m not taking part to win,’ he said and jumped up to check the pasta.
He turned back to Elena, and she raised an eyebrow.
Rory went to talk but then twirled the fork between his fingers. Finally, he spoke. ‘It sounds cheesy, but I’m chasing… a sense of being alive, I guess. Modern life anaesthetises, suffocates… what with us all spending hours in front of screens, typing or scrolling, boxed in a building that’s centrally heated and free from risk, away from strangers, away from the elements. Those two things have been given bad names – “beware that person looking at you” , “watch out for the wind and rain, heat” … but surely we’ve been put on this earth to cross paths with things like those as well?’
Elena listened intently.
His eyes shone. ‘I want to talk to people I haven’t yet met. I want scorching sunrays or freezing snow on my face.’ His hands became animated. ‘I love Netflix, love a good session on my phone, but I want a life that gives me more as well. I haven’t got the physical powers of a Marvel hero, but I’ve got common sense and a desire to exceed the limits that most people allow to imprison them. Above all else, I’m building memories that are all mine and not down to something I’ve only experienced through watching others, on a screen…’ He gave a sheepish look but she nodded, wanting to say something, but how? Her life had been on the sharpest edge in recent weeks and she’d do anything to change that for banality.
Elena insisted on washing up, carefully putting the knives away, hiding them at the back of the drawer. She made sure the hob was off, checked the bolts on the front door several times, and went around the ground floor to see that all windows were closed. Rory offered to set the burglar alarm and she made sure that the battery of the personal alarm in her room was working. They said goodnight and she followed him up the stairs. Elena cleaned her face and brushed her teeth, listening to Rory singing ‘Ocean Eyes’ through the wall. It felt comforting, until it didn’t, when he eventually stopped and the house went quiet, dark. She lay there for an hour, but sleep wouldn’t come.
The firework. The spilt coffee. The diver.
Her whole body twitched as a loud creak came from downstairs. She sat bolt upright. Elena got out of bed and put on her dressing gown. She paused outside Rory’s room. Elena wouldn’t bother him. The noise was probably nothing. Pulse racing, she crept down the stairs. The creak sounded again, she sensed it was near… But the hallway looked exactly the same as usual. So did the empty kitchen, lounge and dining room. She exhaled.
Of course. They’d had the heating on late. It must have simply been the wood in the house contracting as it cooled back down. Elena went into the lounge and flicked on a table lamp. For several minutes she sat with her head in her hands. She looked up at the curtains, to the left of the glass tank, tightly pulled to keep potentially sinister eyes out. A movement caught her attention in the tank. What if Brandy and Snap wanted to look at the night? She got up and drew the curtains open wide.
She would be safe. She was locked in the house. The door had been bolted.
Elena gazed up at the stars. Tahoor’s light was on, in the bedroom at the front of his house. He stood staring upwards too. The night sky was clear, crisp, and a satellite flew past. He wore Paisley pyjamas and an expression that couldn’t look more opposite to the one he’d worn when celebrating City’s win.
A rustle sounded from the tank. She took the lid off and put in a hand, waited and finally Snap climbed on board. She put the lid back on and sat on the sofa with the insect. Its front legs waved in the air. It moved from side to side. Rory had told Elena this meant it could be scared as it was pretending to be a twig swaying in the breeze.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ she whispered. ‘It’s nice to have a couple more females in the house. Do stick insects swim? I went underwater today. But this diver…’ In a shaky voice, she told Snap what had happened at the pool. Eventually, its swaying stopped. ‘You’re amazing, you know that?’ she mumbled. ‘Rory treated me to some more facts about you tonight. Next time you moult, that’s when you’ll regenerate a new leg.’ Elena sighed. ‘I wish I was able to shed my past.’ Gently, she placed Snap back in the tank on an especially green leaf, put the lid back on and then she peered outside again. Tahoor’s light was off now. Another satellite went past. Rory would have ridden it bareback, given the opportunity. The thought of him taking on yet another mad activity didn’t irritate her like it had, before he moved in. She used to wonder if he did extreme sports to impress. However, recently, she’d got the feeling there was a deeper purpose.
For several minutes, she stood as still as Brandy and Snap playing dead .
Rory’s life was all about stepping out of his comfort zone. A determined look crossed her face. Elena’s fingers curled into fists. Before she knew it, she was talking to a deep-seated fear that had tightened its grip on her in recent months.
‘I’m sick of being scared, of you always making me look over my shoulder, risk-assessing my every move.
‘No more!
‘I’m Elena Swan, the ten-year-old girl who gave up her life for another, and who for twenty years hasn’t burdened a single soul with that knowledge; the teen who got beaten up, protecting a friend from bullies; the young woman who reported a senior colleague for inappropriate behaviour. I’m the worker who admitted she’d made a mistake going into HR, and started her career over, pretty much from scratch, in marketing. I’m the train passenger who once intervened when a bunch of lads were shouting racist abuse at an old man and no one else said anything.’ Her breath hitched. ‘It’s the very last months of my twenty-ninth year, when I should be making the most of my life…’ Her jaw tightened.
‘Just like Snap will shed her old skin, I will shed my fears. For fuck’s sake, I’m an adult, not a primary school child. Finally, I can see that being terminated isn’t the worst outcome. The worst is already here and it’s me tiptoeing my way through my existence, and to a much greater degree lately, listening to that voice in my head making me question the safety of everything. I’ve never gone abroad, for God’s sake, kidding myself I was happy with that, when I love foreign food, and speaking French for my GCSE gave me such a buzz in my stomach. I’ve kept boyfriends at a distance, afraid of commitment, for their sakes, not that they’d ever guess it. Rory’s shown me how my life has always felt anaesthetised and suffocated .
‘I can’t worry any more. I can’t keep hiding in the shadow of the person I could and should really be.’
She waited for the sense of doom to wash over her, to drown her in despair.
But instead… Elena raised her eyebrows… A weight lifted. She felt as light as Snap had, on her fingers. It was time to be less like fictional, cautious Elinor, and more like that character’s rash sister, Marianne – less sense and more sensibility.
She stood up. ‘I’d do it over again, you know? In order to save that precious life. It was worth it.’ Elena put her shoulders back and lifted her chin. ‘It really was – even if I never make it to this Christmas.’
Elena strode into the hallway and moved the three bolts across, then went into the kitchen and opened one of the windows. Ignoring the hob, she went up to her room, as wispy and light as a feather that could waft up into the air, carefree as a kite.
In these last few weeks before her thirtieth birthday, Elena Swan would make up for the fun she’d missed her whole life.