28. An unexpected offer – 1985
‘I have left a list of jobs on my desk. I would like you to do them for me today, if you have time,’ said Anton.
He kissed her cheek. ‘I think that maybe you’re neglecting yourself again.’
‘No, I’m not, I promise. I’m showering every day and I’m eating properly.’
He cast his eyes over her. ‘Perhaps a trip to the hairdresser then. We have that open evening coming up. You’ll want to look your best for that. And a new dress. Something sophisticated to give the right impression.’
She put on a smile. ‘I’ll add it to the list, shall I?’
He kissed her again. ‘I think my wife is poking fun at me.’
‘And I think my husband is going to be late for work if he doesn’t stop giving me jobs.’
‘I am never late but yes, I will go.’ He smoothed her hair down with his palm and gave her another sweet, tender kiss.
He was more like the Anton she’d fallen in love with now.
Things were getting back on track. Except for his determination not to have a baby.
On that he was immovable. For the moment at least. Ursula hadn’t completely given up on it yet.
She loaded up the dishwasher and wiped the table.
It was already spotless but Anton was bound to find something with his eagle eyes.
With that done, she went upstairs to start on today’s list. The room that had once been the nursery was now his office.
He’d changed its purpose not long after he’d painted it.
She’d hated him for it at first, actually hated him, but eventually she saw the sense in it.
She could come in here now without having to fight the urge to break down.
She’d already vowed to herself that she would never to cry again until Anton changed his mind about children.
But making a vow and keeping it were two different things and there’d been a couple of times when she’d only just managed to stop herself from crying a bucketload of tears.
The last time she’d felt that way was the day he’d brought home the model he’d shown her the night she ran away from her father, the one of the house he’d wanted to build.
This house. His passion project. It was the reminder of that night, the way he’d been so sweet.
The red scarf that had meant so much to her.
She could have wept for the loss of the people they once were.
But then he’d set the model down in his new office and something hardened inside her.
She hadn’t had so much as a damp eye since. So it had worked. She was better.
The only thing that was stopping a full recovery was her reluctance to go back to work.
Ursula couldn’t face sewing again. She’d thought about it.
She’d even bought some material for a simple skirt.
But as soon as she’d rolled the fabric out, memories of the christening gown came flooding back and suddenly she was reliving that awful, awful day all over again.
And then she was shaking violently and vomiting.
And then she was wanting to die again. So it was more than reluctance.
It was fear. Fear that going back to Talulah might be the downfall of her.
On top of that, she hadn’t spoken to Andi since the day she left work.
She thought she’d seen her that day at the hospital but everything had been so confused, and Anton had said neither her nor Cass had been there when he’d arrived.
She could have asked her mum, but that would have meant bringing up that day again and she didn’t want that.
It was too painful for both of them. Cass could have told her, but she was another person Ursula had hidden away from.
It was better not to mull on these things.
Better not to look back. Anton had said that to her so many times since the day she decided to pull herself together, and he was right.
Looking back didn’t help you to survive. Neither did looking forward.
The first job on the list was to dust the model.
She rolled her eyes fondly. Him and his bloody model.
She lifted its roof off carefully. If she dropped it and anything broke, she’d never hear the end of it.
The inside was like a doll’s house without any furniture or dolls.
Just empty white boxes within a larger empty white box, but it was Anton’s pride and joy.
Or at least a miniature replica of his pride and joy.
He’d worked on projects all over Europe as well as this country, but this house was his obsession.
Yes, that was a good description of it now that she thought about it.
Everything in this house, down to the pans they used for cooking, was part of his design.
Except for her, of course. But even she was changing to look more like one of his designs – her hair, clothes, speech.
Even the way she carried herself. All turning her into Mrs Anton Moller.
It was easier that way. Ursula Fry couldn’t have coped with the life she led now, and she certainly couldn’t have coped with losing the baby.
Anton was very particular about dusting his pride and joy.
He had a special set of brushes to fit every crevice and woe betide her if she used the wrong one.
She lifted off the top floor as carefully as she’d lifted the roof, and selected a soft medium-sized brush.
She’d only managed a couple of brush strokes when the doorbell rang.
Ursula looked out of the window which was perfectly placed to see everything in front of the house.
It fell a few feet short of the main door, but unless the caller had pinned themselves to it, you could usually see who was there.
To her complete shock, Andi was looking up at her.
Ursula took a backwards step, her first instinct being to hide.
The doorbell rang again. This was stupid.
She needed to get a grip of herself. It was just Andi.
The worst that could happen was that she’d call her a skinny arse cow.
She went downstairs, her heart pumping. Andi was here.
She’d come to see her. She didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified.
She opened the door and there was Andi, bundled up in an oversize tweed coat. Her hair was now a mass of curls, fixed on top of her head with a red wrap. She looked fantastic. Ursula felt old, older than her years.
Andi smiled at her but it was a nervous smile. ‘You gonna let me in then?’
Ursula stood back to give her room. ‘You want tea or coffee, or something?’
‘Tea would be good, ta.’ She followed Ursula into the kitchen. ‘It’s quiet in here.’
‘I can put the radio on.’
‘I’ll do it. Where is it?’
‘In that cupboard. Probably at the back.’
Andi found the radio and switched it on.
Two very serious people were in conversation.
‘Well this isn’t exactly Radio One, is it?
’ She pressed buttons and turned dials until Bananarama came on.
‘That’s better.’ She threw her coat on the back of a chair and took the one next to it. ‘How are you, Urs?’
‘Okay.’
‘I’m sorry about the baby.’
What kind of thing was that to say? Now, after all this time. After everyone else had stopped mentioning it. After Ursula had stopped allowing herself to think about it. ‘Taken you a while to tell me that.’
‘I didn’t think you wanted to see me. I tried, but–’
‘So why now?’
‘Talulah’s closing down. I thought you might want to know. We finished our last dress this week. The shop’ll officially close next week.’
The nugget of anger that just taken hold of Ursula fizzled out. Talulah was closing. How could this be? ‘But what will you do?’
‘Wanda’s retiring. Cass got me a job with someone she knows in London. I’m leaving, Urs. I’ve told Gillian. She’s been really good about it. I expect she’ll be glad to have the flat back to herself again.’
Ursula slumped down on a chair. This wasn’t right. How could Cass let this happen? ‘I suppose Cass got a better offer.’
‘No, she’s gutted about it. I don’t think sales have been that great and we’ve had less and less orders coming through.’
‘She doesn’t need to worry about that. The Frys have bankrolled her for years.’
‘Not anymore. She’s broke. Well, broke for her. Probably not broke for you and me. Okay, probably not broke for me. You’re all right now.’
‘My baby died. How can I be all right?’ There, she’d said what she’d been holding back for so long.
Her baby had died. Some people, the so-called experts, would have said it was too early to call him a real baby and that he didn’t actually die, but he was real to her.
And she felt his death as much as if he’d been full term.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think. That was a really stupid thing for me to say. Of course you’re not all right. Any moron can see that.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well look at you. You’re so thin. And those clothes. What is that, classic M&S?’
‘Classic designer actually.’
Andi whistled. ‘Well, Westwood it ain’t.’
In spite of her heart feeling like it was being ripped out, Ursula laughed. ‘Special fogies collection.’
Andi grinned. ‘What’s your favourite song this week?’
This week? Ursula didn’t even have a favourite song this year. Or even last year. There was a reason that radio had been in the cupboard. ‘I haven’t been listening to much lately.’
‘No kidding. What are you gonna do, Urs? You can’t go back to Talulah now, but you can’t carry on like this, in this fucking clinic.’
‘My house is not a clinic.’
‘It looks like one. Where’s the colour? And what’s with the echo?’
‘What echo?’ she said, even though she knew perfectly well there was one.
‘This one.’ Andi sent it up to the top of the house.
‘Oh that. It’s just because the ceiling’s so high. It’s part of the design.’
‘Well it’s creepy.’ She lay on the floor. ‘Get down here. Let’s see if it carries this far down.’
Ursula lay next to her and they made hooting sounds, giggling as the hoots came back to them. She’d missed this. She’d been an idiot to let it go. ‘I didn’t think you wanted to speak to me either. That’s why I haven’t tried to make it up with you.’
‘But I came to see you that day at the hospital.’
‘Did you? I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it. And when Anton said he hadn’t seen you, I thought I’d got confused.’
‘But he did see us. Cass anyway. In the car park. We were leaving because Gillian had arrived and, you know how it is with her and Cass. But Cass got out the car and spoke to him.’
‘Are you sure? It’s just that–’
‘Come to London with me, Urs.’
‘What, just walk away?’
‘Yeah.’
Her and Andi starting a new life in London? Was that possible? She could get a job, she supposed. Not sewing but in a shop, or a bar, or as a typist. Was it so stupid? ‘But what about Anton?’
‘Leave him.’
Leave him? Could she really do that after everything he’d done to take care of her?
She couldn’t even remember to keep herself clean and healthy without him reminding her.
And what would he do if she went? He loved her.
It was true he irritated her sometimes with his silly particular ways.
And yes, she suspected he kept things from her, like seeing Cass at the hospital.
But he probably had his reasons and she still loved him.
Not just that. She needed him too. ‘I can’t. ’
‘Okay,’ said Andi, as if all she’d done was ask her if she wanted another cup of tea.
It was just like her first day at Talulah when she’d dropped an insight bomb and then asked about favourite songs.
That was Andi all over, and that was why she loved her.
But she’d managed to live without Andi for a while now.
She hadn’t managed to live without Anton.