Chapter 11 #2
‘I’m fine. Goodness, I can’t believe it’s after nine,’ I added, glancing at my watch.
‘You must be hungry,’ Theo said. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve kept you from dinner.’
I smiled. ‘It’s tea round here. Mum will have kept something with a plate over in the oven.’
‘How lovely.’ I glanced sideways at him as we walked; realised the words were said without any sense of mockery or derision.
We walked in silence back to the car, knowing that once he’d dropped me at home and made his way back to the M1 and on to Leeds, I would have no contact with him, probably ever again.
We made only desultory conversation during the twenty-minute drive back to my village.
I just wanted the return journey, my senses overloaded with the very essence of Theo Mandeville, to go on forever.
I tried to be sensible, tell myself we had nothing in common, that there could never be anything between the daughter of a Polish Jewish miner and the son of some posh bloke from landed gentry in North Yorkshire.
‘Take a left here,’ I instructed. ‘Now right. And we’re the house at the end of the road.’
Theo pulled up outside the last house of the red-bricked terrace.
A couple of kids loomed out of the dusk, their bikes without lights, circling the Mini, interested to see who was parked outside the Piaseckis’.
I’d always really liked our house, liked the cosiness, the warm welcome, the kettle on as soon as I stepped through the door, coming home to Mum and Dad and Fred, our elderly mutt.
But I suddenly saw it for what it was: a small, somewhat shabby end terrace with a tiny front garden, both the red-painted door and windows in need of a bit of TLC.
‘It’s been really lovely, Anna,’ Theo said formally.
Politely. ‘I do hope we bump into each other again sometime. Hang on…’ He jumped out of his seat, made his way round to my side and opened the door for me.
We stood on the pavement. A couple of curtains twitched.
The bike riders, clearly uninterested, turned and made off.
I held out my hand, wanting contact, but not brave enough to lean into him and kiss his cheek in farewell. ‘Thank you for the lift and the drink.’
Theo appeared slightly surprised at my outstretched hand but took it anyway. ‘Anytime. Bye, Anna.’
‘Bye, Theo.’ Hell, I couldn’t bear this formality after feeling… what? A closeness to this man?
‘Well, I’ll see you then, Anna. Maybe bump into you in the library… or something…? If you call in to uni… maybe… before the long vac…?’
‘Yes, I’ll be over.’ I spoke quickly. ‘I have to see various people… you know…?’
‘Right, OK.’
Ask for my phone number, ask for my phone number… Maybe he thought we didn’t have a phone… not everyone did round here… ‘Right, OK.’ I smiled. ‘Well, thanks again, you know, for the drink…’
‘No problem.’ Theo turned back to the car, crossing in front of it, walking to the driver’s side, opening the door, starting the engine, waving as he pulled away.
‘Bye then.’ I put up my own hand, a rictus of a smile on my face, wanting to cry, wanting the connection with Theo Mandeville to go on and on.
I stood as he drove down our road and then turned back to the house.
The car suddenly stopped, reversed, stopped again and Theo jumped out of the car before walking back to me.
‘Look, Anna, I know you won’t want to. You know, totally against your principles and all that…’
I stared. ‘What?’
‘I’m expected to be at our May Hunt Ball. My parents hold it every year. Some damned tradition that goes back forever. Black tie do… Bloody nuisance to be honest, but you know…’
‘What?’
When I didn’t say anything further, my pulse racing so much I didn’t think I’d ever again be able to say any other word but what, Theo turned away again. ‘Forget it. Really, not your thing, daft of me.’
‘Yes, please.’ So, I did have other words in my vocabulary. As well, seemingly, as a willingness to totally abandon any principles I might hold about hunting, about poor little foxes.
‘Right.’ Theo walked back to me. ‘You’ll come then?’
‘I’m not sure what you’re asking?’ Oh, Jesus, I had a sudden awful thought: did they know they were going to be short-staffed at wherever this ball was going to be held?
And his father had asked Theo to tout around his student mates to work the bar, to wait on tables, to clean up afterwards?
‘So, do you want me to come and serve? To clear up afterwards? I think I’m probably allergic to horses, so, you know, if the horses themselves are actually invited, it might not be a good thing…
’ Shit, Exocet missile in force once more.
Theo stared at me and then laughed. Actually burst out laughing. ‘Anna, I’d like you to come as my guest. As I say, I get it if your principles won’t allow it.’
I breathed deeply, spoke calmly, stopped him in his tracks. ‘Thank you, Theo, that would be lovely.’
‘OK.’ He glanced up at the street name then at our front door. ‘Number forty-five? I’ll send you the invitation. It’ll give all the details… actually, Anna, your phone number would be good.’
I reached into my bag, realised the only bit of paper was one of the leaflets the main man at the NUM had given me and which I’d retrieved from the brown envelope, popping it into my bag as research material for the dissertation I was going to write back at uni.
I quickly wrote down the number on the back and passed it over.
‘Thanks, Anna, I’ll be in touch.’
He set off once again and I walked – no, I floated – up our garden path and home.