Present day #2
It was ironic, really; she had wanted the evening to be spontaneous and unexpected! And in that regard, she had not been disappointed.
Lilly hadn’t slept well for the last few nights, and as ever that lack of restorative sleep had taken its toll.
Feeling worn and a little world-weary, she sat on the sofa and closed her eyes, hoping her thoughts might still for long enough for rest. The moment Alfie had let slip his name in the restaurant replayed in her thoughts.
His face, that look of horror, had matched her own, she was sure.
She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if he hadn’t let his guard down, slipped up, and she had, in blissful ignorance, enjoyed a glass of bubbles and some lovely grub, laughing at his jokes, tapping their feet under the booth to the blues that tooted in the air, sharing their histories and thoughts of retirement.
Or worse, what if she had invited him back to the very flat he was intent on destroying?
What if she’d taken him to her bed and let him see her scar, what if he’d asked, what if she’d told him .
. . what if . . . what if . . . what if . . .
Jumping up, again disturbed by overthinking, she rummaged through her dad’s very impressive vinyl collection, immaculately cared for by him, then her.
Having found what she was looking for, she gently lowered the needle on to the LP at just the right spot.
And there it was, instantly soothing, distracting in the way good music could be, a balm to her busy head, as the sound of Gordon Lightfoot’s ‘If You Could Read My Mind’ filled the room.
A stunning poem set to music that had the power to move her.
Sitting back on the sofa with her favourite view of the river, she breathed deeply, able, almost, to detect the scent of her dad’s tobacco.
‘What do I do now, Dad? What the hell do I do?’ She spoke into the ether, felled with sadness at the lack of response.
The sound of the letterbox closing alerted her to the post. Since ignoring so many letters from the dastardly underhand Portland and Montague had landed her in such hot water, she had started to pay greater attention to everything that plopped on to her welcome mat, still remembering to booo at the brown envelopes.
Today it was a letter, singular, that had arrived and carried a fancy gated crest on it. Lilly whipped it from the envelope.
‘Dear Mrs Cooper.’ She paused reading and looked skyward.
‘I give up!’ she shouted before turning her attention back to the printed letter.
‘Thank you for your most recent letter regarding the proposed development of Waide House as part of the regeneration . . .’ She skipped the detail, didn’t need to be told of the wonderful plans of Messrs Portland and Montague.
‘It is, we believe, in the wider interest of the community that this development goes ahead. The social, economic and cultural benefits of such a build cannot be ignored, and having carefully considered all arguments, it is still our belief that to allow The Fortescue Tower to be built is the very best thing . . .’ She stopped reading and balled the letter in her palm, throwing it on the floor with as much energy as she could muster.
She felt more than a little beaten, a little low, a little sick and tired of her life being upended and rerouted at the whim of someone else.
Mum has moved out . . .
I’m Mrs Jones, Wilkie’s wife . . .
. . . subject to a compulsory purchase order . . .
There was a knock on the door.
‘Morning, Glen.’
‘Morning, love. How you doing?’ Her friend walked past without waiting for an invitation, such was their ease with each other. ‘Heard from him?’
There was no need to expand on who the him in question was; she had filled her friend in on the whole debacle over the phone. Lilly had been comforted by Glenda’s tuts and sharp draws of breath that validated her mournful story of betrayal.
‘No, I won’t hear from him, and I don’t want to hear from him.’
‘Well, I did say that it was all a bit quick.’
‘Did you? I remember you saying that he might be an axe murderer and you were worried about the moral dilemma of his dietary choices, but I don’t remember you saying it was a bit quick.’ She filled the kettle.
‘Well, if I didn’t, smart arse, I certainly meant to.’ Glenda sat at the table. ‘Norm says you can probably sue him.’
‘Sue him? What for?’
‘For wooing you under false pretences.’
Lilly welcomed the laughter that burst from her, a much-needed hiatus for her furrowed brow and tight mouth; it made her feel a bit better. ‘Is that a thing, wooing under false pretences?’
‘It should be!’ Glenda tutted. ‘What was his plan? Seduce you, get you sloshed and make you sign over the flat?’
‘I have no idea.’ She rubbed her face, feeling the loose skin move under her fingertips. ‘I think more than likely he thought he could butter me up and get me to agree that flattening my home was a good idea.’
‘He doesn’t know you then, does he, love?’
‘No, he bloody doesn’t! I wish Bertie was still around; he knew a lot of shady characters who would break a finger or a leg for a fee.’
Glenda seemed to consider this. ‘Do you think it was more expensive to get a leg done over a finger?’
‘I suppose so, Glen. There’s probably a sliding scale for the size of the limb or appendage.’
‘Probably. Reckon it would be cheap to get Norm chopped or broken. He’s pretty small all over.’
Lilly again roared her laughter. ‘Poor Norm!’
‘We can joke, Lil, but I know how these things can set you back, make you feel rotten.’
She sat at the little table opposite her friend. ‘I do feel a bit rotten, a bit out of sorts. It’s thrown me.’
‘’Course it has.’ Glenda reached out and gently placed her hand over Lilly’s. ‘You and I both know that you are made of sterner stuff. You have weathered far worse than this, love, and you will be right as rain in no time. You can’t let him have the satisfaction of hijacking your thoughts.’
‘Bit late for that. I’ve barely slept. I feel so stupid.’ It took all her courage to admit it.
‘You, stupid?’ Glenda sighed. ‘You’ve run your own business for all these years, and your own home, looked after your dad, been the best friend to me. You’re an incredible artist. You’re stylish, funny and smart. Ain’t nothing stupid about you, Elizabeth-Roberta.’
Lilly felt the rush of emotion up the back of her nose.
To be called that . . . It reminded her so powerfully of Wilkie, who, even after all these years, still had the power to reduce her to tears.
It had hit her hard, no doubt, because she was low.
Alfie’s duplicity had floored her, bringing back some dark memories, igniting the flame of rejection that had burned brightly since she’d found her mum to be no more than a fragrant shadow that lurked in the corner of the room.
‘Thank you, Glen. Don’t know why I’m so upset. It just all feels like a lot.’
‘Because it is a lot.’
‘Truth is, I just can’t see how I hang on to the flat.
I don’t know who to talk to about it, or what to do!
’ She laid her hand on the tabletop, taking a moment to think of all the meals, card games, cups of tea, the jigsaw puzzles, all of it having taken place right here on this little table.
‘I got another letter from Mr Passmore, the MP, who only confirmed what he’d already said: that it’s a wonderful opportunity and is all going ahead.
I’m just a gnat in the ointment for him.
I don’t count, not in the grand scheme of things, and that’s one of the hardest aspects of it for me, the fact that this is my home, and the loss of it .
. .’ She swallowed. ‘I spoke to Denzel a while back and he said it was almost pointless trying to fight it, told me that these companies have so much money and sway that the flag-waving of one old lady who would rather not shift cuts very little ice. It’s made me feel insignificant, and no one wants to feel like that.
I’m disappointed. It feels so unfair. I haven’t let myself think that I might actually have to move, not really, until now.
But it feels likely, and I am utterly bereft at the prospect, but I’m also tired, Glen’ – she rubbed her eyes – ‘and a bit beaten.’
‘Where do you think you might like to go?’
‘Where I’d like to go is nowhere, I want to stay right here, but where I will go, I have absolutely no idea.’ The thought of having to search felt more than a little overwhelming.
‘The good news is Norm and I can help you pack up. Bradley and Andrew, too, they’ll pitch in.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And we’ve got a spare room in New Cross so you can always come and stay with us.’
‘Glen, that is a very kind offer.’ Lilly wiped her nose and face on a sheet of kitchen roll. ‘But honestly? I couldn’t live with you. You’d drive me crazy! I’d kill you!’
‘With an axe?’ her friend asked as she went to fetch the mugs to make tea.
‘More than likely.’ She smiled at her. ‘More than bloody likely.’