Chapter 23 #2
There was silence for a good thirty seconds and then I knew I had to approach the elephant in the room.
‘Theo, what about us?’
‘Oh, Anna…’ Theo took off his shades, rubbing at his eyes.
‘What?’
‘Anna, you know what. I can never come up to your exacting standards. Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen.
’ He held up his right hand once more. ‘I’m pretty well fucked.
I can’t even hold a pen to write, let alone hold a squash racquet…
’ His voice faltered and he couldn’t carry on for a moment.
‘I was going to rule the world with my squash. I truly believe I had the ability and determination to do just that.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I tried to take his hand once more, but again he moved it from my reach.
‘Anna, I can’t… I can’t offer you anything at the moment. I’m not me any more.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘You know exactly what I’m saying. I loved you; I’ve never felt for anyone what I felt for you… feel for you… I guess I still love you, but all this…’ He waved his injured hand in the air at me.
My heart soared. Theo loved me. ‘We can sort it,’ I said.
‘Look, I’d like to keep in touch, I want to stay friends.’
‘Friends?’ I stared at him. ‘Theo, you’re my best friend.’
He smiled at that. ‘Fliss was your best friend.’
‘Fliss is dead,’ I said hotly.
‘Anna, it’s all too much at the moment. My parents, the estate…’
‘You’re giving up on me?’ I felt real fear surge through me.
‘Can’t you see it’s the only way? I’m reliant on my parents’ help at the moment. They’ll never forgive your brother.’
‘That’s my brother! My brother, Theo. Not me! What about me?’
He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and I stood. ‘You can’t do this to us, Theo…’
‘Theo, are you ready?’
We both turned to see Hugh Mandeville standing a couple of yards away, as if by coming any nearer he’d be contaminated by my presence.
‘It’s OK, Dad. I’m ready.’
‘I’ve got your things. They’re in the car.’
Theo stood, wavered slightly, and then, without another glance in my direction, followed his father, walking away from me.
I watched through my tears until the pair were a couple of smudges beside a line of trees and bushes, before disappearing round a corner.
It was August, and then September.
Now that I wasn’t working at the NUM, the days stretched out in front of me and were filled, not only with constant thoughts of Theo, but with helping down at The Alamo, as well as taking over general household stuff while Mum, Dad and Les were out on strike work and picket duty.
I’d tried ringing Theo several times up in North Yorkshire, only to reach everyone but Theo, and was always told he wasn’t around.
Or he was resting, or that he was up with the horses or – once – away.
Away where? I asked, but I was cut off. Once, I did get through to someone who appeared pleased to speak to me: Mary picked up the phone and, while her breath down the phone was stertorous, and she said very little to begin with, I was able to remind her who I was and ask if I could speak to her big brother.
I heard someone, possibly Maureen – overseer of Downstairs – or, more likely, Bridget, Mary’s right-hand woman, ask who she was talking to.
When she said, ‘The lovely lady in the red dress – Theo’s friend,’ I could have hugged her down the line, but then whoever it was took the phone from Mary and said she’d pass on the message that I’d called.
One weekend, when my big brother David was home from his new job as cub reporter on a daily paper in Teesside, I poured my heart out to him.
We walked for miles, both of us sharing the confidences we’d been unable to extend to the rest of the family.
David was now in a long-term relationship with a GP in Durham and was planning on setting up home with him.
Dad was more than willing to listen, asking why David hadn’t brought Yusuf home with him and, while Mum tried to understand, she and Aunty Sandra wondered if maybe it was just a phase David was going through, and that eventually he’d fall in love with some nice girl who’d give her and Dad grandchildren.
David suggested I write to Theo, telling him just what I was telling him as we walked round the beautiful countryside around Silkstone.
So, in the end, I did. Whether Theo received my letters, I don’t know.
He certainly didn’t respond, and I had to remind myself that writing would perhaps still be an impossibility for him.
This had me racked with guilt once more; that my family had been the cause of this injury.
In the end, I gave up, knowing I’d be back in Leeds at the end of September, and I’d be able to get Theo on his own.
Maybe by then he’d have found a way to forgive me, be able to see a way forward and would want to be with me again.
I spent the next few weeks, with Frank’s help, checking out my new house share with two postgraduate students as well as taking the train and spending ridiculous amounts of time in the library, hoping, just hoping, that maybe Theo might have decided to do the same.
Would he be able to drive with his hand?
I really didn’t know. I experimented with my middle and index finger on my own right hand strapped forward on themselves, so I could imagine just what Theo was going through, as well as attempting everyday jobs with this impediment.
In the end, Dad took me up to the allotment, said I had to stop wearing a hairshirt and get digging – gardening always helped.
At the end of September, Uncle Maurice came up trumps again, driving me with Mum and Aunty Sandra to help ‘settle me back in’. Much as I appreciated their help, I was relieved when they all left, more than happy to be left alone to sort my room and do some shopping at the local Co-op.
I spent the next few days keeping a look out for Theo, hanging round the history department and the library, while fighting off the memories of me and Fliss together that seemed to hit me wherever I went in the union bar and into the city itself.
After a week, I saw him about to go into the admin block. He was wearing jeans and a navy sweater, the beard had gone and he looked so much like the old Theo, I wanted to weep with joy. I called his name.
He turned and we just stared at each other while I tried to find the words, but they came tumbling out in an incoherent jumble and eventually, he said, ‘Let’s get a coffee.
’ We made our way down to a coffee shop on Eastgate and sat at a table at the back of the room.
It wasn’t your usual student dive but appeared to cater for shoppers and ladies that lunch.
‘You’re back then?’ I smiled. ‘How are you?’ I’d studiously avoided looking at his hand, but now I took it in my own. It was no longer bandaged, and the skin had stretched and healed over the amputation. Theo reached for the menu while trying to catch the eye of the waitress.
‘As you can see, I’m not very good at this,’ he replied, as the laminated menu fell through his hand.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You’ve got to stop saying sorry.’ He took my hand with his good one, caressing the palm with his thumb.
‘Where are you living this year?’ I asked.
‘Anna.’ Theo continued to hold my hand. ‘I’m not coming back.’
‘But you’re here! Your degree…’ I felt my heart shift to somewhere in the pit of my stomach.
‘I don’t need a degree to run the estate.’
‘Well, no, but…’
‘I leave for New Zealand at the weekend,’ he said.
‘For a holiday? In the sunshine. To recuperate?’ I was clutching at straws.
‘I’m moving back there. I was just at the admin office clearing everything up, telling them I wasn’t coming back.’
‘But why? Why, Theo?’ I knew tears were falling, but I was powerless to stop them.
He moved his hand to my face, catching a tear with his thumb. ‘Anna, don’t. Please. It tears me apart to see you like this.’
‘Then stay. Stay. Stay with me.’
‘I can’t, Anna. I just can’t.’