Present day
Lilly took her time choosing what to wear.
Her love of colour meant that whatever she selected from her wardrobe wasn’t going to be bland.
She settled on a turquoise tunic with an embroidered, beaded yoke, and white linen trousers, with endless strings of multicoloured beads looped around her neck, and two very large, eye-catching gold rings, one on the middle finger of each hand, and her favourite tan Menorcan leather sandals.
Her conversation with Alfie had been on repeat in her thoughts and it was no coincidence that she chose Etta James’s ‘At Last’ as the music to listen to as she got ready, curating her own playlist. Understanding it was kitsch, predictable and even tempting the fate she didn’t believe in, but the beauty of it was, no one would ever know!
This might just be a simple date for some, a casual get-together for dinner, but for Lilly it was significant, not only because of the rarity of such a thing but also because she was the owner of a fractured, mistrusting heart and so to take a leap like this was a big deal.
There he was again, without invitation, the image of Wilkie in the front of her mind, even after all these years – poof!
He continued to pop up and taunt her from afar.
But Alfie had kind of got under her skin, why, she wasn’t sure, but she certainly wasn’t getting any younger and figured that if she was going to keep that silent loneliness from her door, maybe the better question was, why not?
The fact that her world was shifting on its axis – leaving the flat, losing the daily closeness with Clodagh and Apollo – was encouraging her to broaden her thoughts, to take the risk.
There was another thought, however, that whizzed and prodded her from sleep with the excitement of a teenager, not so much why not, but what if .
. . Not that she chose to share this with anyone, knowing how ridiculous it sounded, such daydreaming from a woman who was old enough to know better.
She laughed, this, too, a phrase that irked her – she must remember to tell Alfie.
Wondering at what point she might be old enough to know better?
Wondering if she ever would! Even now she felt the shiver of unease at how she had called her mum, way back when she was a kid, full of excited anticipation – I met a boy!
The humiliation at having to admit it had come to nothing was still quite excruciating.
She had decided against Glenda’s advice and chose not to look at the menu before she arrived at the restaurant, wanting the evening to be spontaneous and unexpected!
With her hand on her stomach, she recognised the feeling as butterflies of excitement that swirled in there.
Her fingers pressed against the unsightly line of scar tissue that went from her belly to her pubis.
That’s a good girl, count backwards . . .
A reminder every single day of what meeting that boy had led to.
‘Get a grip, Elizabeth-Roberta. Butterflies? You’re seventy, not seventeen!’
Yet it was a fact that, had she closed her eyes and not looked in a mirror, the way she felt was exactly the same now as she had then, as if the thief of time had not come along and erased those years when no one was looking.
Three squirts of her favoured perfume, one on her neck, one at her wrist and one a cloud through which she strutted, snapping her fingers and flicking her head, just as Bertie had shown her so many years ago. And she was set.
The plan was to meet on the path where they’d first met and walk along the river to Battersea, where the redeveloped power station was the place to be seen.
Very different from the out-of-the-way, run-down shell it was in her younger days, where she’d once gone to see an art installation.
She could recall very clearly stumbling in the dimly lit space over loose bricks and dumped builders’ waste that littered the floor, before having to run all the way home in the dark when the police raided it.
No one had told her the event was the brainchild of an artists’ collective that specialised in raves and art, the two supported by the liberal application of hallucinogenics and speed.
It made her smile, all those experiences that she catalogued; more London moments.
There was a familiar knock on the door. She posed as she pulled it wide and stood, waiting to be admired.
‘Wowsers! Lilly! You look lovely! Really lovely! Thought I’d come and say good luck.’
‘Bless you.’
It warmed her heart to see Clodagh standing there in her pyjamas. It spoke of their closeness and mutual affection, their trust, and there it was again, the stab of sadness that it all might be coming to an end. Not that she was going to think of that tonight, didn’t want it to spoil her mood.
‘Not sure about the hair.’ She ran her fingers through her curly grey mop and squeezed the curls to help shape them into ringlets, as if her hair did not have a life and will of its own.
‘Leave it down, it’s fabulous.’
‘You’re sweet. Apollo asleep?’
‘Yes, soundo. After three readings of Stick Man. I know it by heart.’ Clodagh groaned.
‘How are you feeling after your run-in with Sab?’
‘Worried,’ was her instant reply. ‘Really quite worried. It’s been a nice way to live, not having to look over my shoulder. He puts me on high alert, ties my stomach in knots that makes it impossible for me to eat.’
Lilly was already aware of Clodagh’s very slender, pale frame, and this insight bothered her, remembering that time in her own life when, riven with sorrow, the prospect of food had been the most awful thing.
‘He hasn’t called yet?’
‘Not yet. Every time the phone rings, I jump. Something that would delight him, I’m sure.’
‘Maybe he won’t call?’ Lilly suggested, unsure if this was a good or bad thing.
‘Oh, he’ll call, but because it was me who suggested he call tonight or this week, he’ll leave it till the very end of the week, so it’s almost the week after, trying to make it on his terms.’
Clodagh rolled her eyes. If that was the man’s level of pettiness, Lilly could only hope they worked it out and reached an amicable solution, for Apollo’s sake.
‘I thought it was nice of Mr Vaughan to speak up.’
‘I don’t know how I feel about it. It was nice, yes, and he’s nice, no doubt, but also it’s none of his business.
We’re strangers, really, and it was kind of chivalrous, but it’s a chivalry I don’t need.
I mean, he doesn’t know me. I don’t need a man to do that for me.
I’ve been fine on my own for the last eighteen months, and for a long time before that.
I know it came from a place of kindness, but it felt a bit too bold. Is that possible?’
‘Hmm, yes, it is, and I hadn’t thought of it like that. I get it.’
There’s a good girl . . .
‘Anyway, he’s coming over for a coffee, to talk about the move and everything, so . . .’ Clodagh blushed.
‘I see. So none of his business, chivalry you don’t need, but you’re meeting for a coffee?’
‘Doesn’t mean I don’t like him. I do, or at least I think I do.’ She flashed a smile. ‘I just need him to not . . .’
‘Not what?’
‘Interfere.’
‘Ah, I think you’ll find that’s what he does.’ Lilly pictured him bent low and calling through the letterbox.
‘How are you feeling about the move?’
She hated how the topic could put a rock even in the most excited stomach full of butterflies.
‘I think I’m in denial, love,’ Lilly admitted. ‘And until I figure out what to do next, it’s a place I’ll stay.’
‘I understand. It’s hard for me too, and compared to you, we’ve only been here five minutes.’ Clodagh squeezed her hand, and Lilly patted her arm in return; she didn’t want to feel this level of emotion, not tonight, when she had so much to look forward to.
‘Right, you can’t be late. Also, Lilly, I wanted to say before you left that I’ll keep my phone on, and if there’s anything that bothers you, or if he tries anything on, call me and I’ll see the missed call and we’ll come and rescue you, Apollo and I.’
‘Isn’t he in bed?’
‘Yes, but that’s not the point! He has an enviable stick collection that can be used for whacking the keenest of suitors!’
They both laughed.
‘I don’t think Alfie’s going to try anything; we’re a little over the hill for that.
’ Lilly laughed, thinking that actually, with those smile-crinkled blue eyes, him trying something, when the time was right, might be quite agreeable.
Not that she was about to share this with Clodagh, or anyone else, for that matter.
‘Besides’ – she lifted and splayed her fingers – ‘I’ve got these knuckledusters on, should he try any funny business! ’
‘Knuckledusters!’ Clodagh laughed, another reminder for Lilly that some of the phrases she had inherited from her dad were quite alien to the young woman.
Having locked her front door, Lilly trod the stairs with the tiniest feeling of trepidation.
Supposing he didn’t show? The concern melted away instantly as she stepped down on to the riverwalk and there he was, early and waiting.
Lilly stopped for a minute and blinked softly, as if taking a photograph to store in her mind, one for the album.
The sun was setting behind him, the sky had taken on a dusky mauve hue.
He was wearing jeans, a navy linen blazer, a white shirt with the top button open, double cuffs, and that watch on display again.
He looked just as neat and well put together as he had the first time they’d met.
Her heart squeezed at the sight of him, a novel and welcome flutter of attraction that she hadn’t felt for the longest time.