Another Love (32 page)

‘Hey! I was talking to you! Deaf post!’ Doruk shouted.

‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ She gave a small smile.

‘Okay, so do you want the good news or the bad news?’ he asked casually as he chewed on gum and flicked through the newspaper.

Romilly looked up from where she was kneeling on the floor. She was in the middle of clicking the price gun over a dozen cans of beans, ripping open the cardboard box as she went, to get better access.

‘I suppose the good news.’ She grimaced at him.

‘You are the best worker we’ve ever had here.’

She stood up. ‘Really?’ His words had touched her. ‘That’s a nice thing to say. Thank you.’

‘Actually it was a lie. You are just as good as anyone else, in fact slower than Altan, and that’s saying something. But I couldn’t think of any more good news and so I said that.’ He shrugged his shoulders.

‘Jesus, Doruk!’ She stared at him. ‘Okay, well, let’s have the bad news.’ She folded her arms, bracing herself.

‘We are closing the shop. You will be unemployed in three weeks.’ He clapped his hands loudly, as if to emphasise the finality of it.

‘What? No! Oh!’ Her red bobbed hair hung around her jawline as she looked at the floor, trying not to show too much emotion, trying not to panic at this new, unexpected blow. ‘Why? Why are you closing the shop?’ It had been her lifeline for over two years and never more so than now; a distraction, something to give structure to her day.

‘Ayla says we don’t make enough money here, so she’s buying a fish and chip shop instead.’ He tilted his head to one side in a half nod, as though this had been his idea.

Romilly did her best to keep things light. ‘I shall miss working here, but I won’t miss you. I hate you! You are the worst boss in the whole wide world. But I shall miss working here.’

Doruk closed the paper and hopped off his stool. Coming from around the back of the counter, he enveloped her in a wide bear hug and lifted her off the ground. She squealed and pummelled his large shoulders to make him put her down. ‘I hate you too, Romilly.’

He dropped her to the floor and the two smiled at each other, warm, genuine smiles of love and friendship.

‘You gave me a chance when I needed it the most and I won’t ever, ever forget that.’ She felt her eyes mist over.

‘Oh for God’s sake, shut up! No one wants to hear that shit! And hurry up with those beans!’ he shouted, as he took his place back on his stool and reached in his pocket for his handkerchief.

*

Romilly waved to her miserable boss and pulled her scarf around her neck as she made her way out into the crisp, cold London night. What had shocked her the most in the wake of her relapse was that Father Brian had been right, she had indeed gone back to square one. She had thought that maybe the many months of sobriety preceding this, might have helped in some way, catapulted her further and quicker along the road of recovery, but it didn’t work like that. It was a stark reminder that she would always be one drink away from square one and that single fact was petrifying. Her life, she realised, would always be akin to walking a tightrope and even the thought of living that way, was exhausting.

*

As she set foot on Waterloo Bridge, Big Ben chimed. She played her little game of seeing how far she could get across before it finished its count of the hour. Taking steps and counting as she did so, she gasped as someone walking in the opposite direction grabbed the top of her arm, swinging her round and almost knocking her off course. She looked up into the face of a young man she vaguely recognised but couldn’t quite place.

‘Red? Oh my God! I thought it was you! I don’t believe it! How the devil are you?’ He grinned.

It was Jasper’s friend… Levi! That was it, Levi. The last time she’d seen him was the night Frog got beaten up. They’d escaped together, and then she’d ended up on the Downs, crashed out by that bin…

‘Levi.’ She smiled weakly, pleased to have recalled his name, awkward at seeing him there. The anonymity that London gave her was crucial to her ability to function, and seeing him there, on her route home, compromised that anonymity. Her hand flew to her mouth as she self-consciously tried to hide her toothless gums. She pulled off her glasses, not wanting him to see the fine crack across the lens.

‘What are you doing up here?’ he asked.

She wasn’t sure how to answer, how much to tell, and she certainly didn’t want it getting back to anyone that might know her in Bristol. ‘I’m staying up here for a bit and working.’ This was true.

‘Me too! My dad’s got me a job with some of his mates in the City.’ He tugged the sleeve of his long, navy wool overcoat, like a child showing off their uniform on the first day of term. ‘Not really my cup of tea, but what can you do? Can’t put off taking the plunge forever. Do you fancy a drink?’ He beamed.

Do I fancy a drink? That’s funny. I do. More than anything, I fancy a drink. I want one now, and I know I always will, but I can’t have one. I can’t and I won’t because every drink, every mouthful will push me off balance and I will fall, each sip is a step backwards in my journey to get home to my little girl and I don’t want to lose her to another woman, another mum who might take my place and there’s nothing incidental about that… but I am tired, so tired of living like this.

She shivered. ‘I can’t, Levi. Sorry.’

‘Ah, no worries. Next time.’ He smiled with a mixture of disappointment and relief.

‘Do you still see Jasper?’ She wanted to change the subject, knowing there would not be a next time. Romilly saw him hesitate and was prepared to bet they’d had a falling-out of some kind. Their relationship was built on the precarious rocks of hedonism and selfishness, no model for longevity. She thought of Sara.

‘Oh, Red.’ He placed his hand on her shoulder and held her gaze. ‘I thought you knew.’

‘Thought I knew what?’ She shrugged loose from his touch and squinted to focus.

Levi lowered his voice and took a step towards her. ‘He died.’

‘What?’ She thought she must have misheard him. Surely not the smiling, gorgeous Jasper, that beautiful boy.

Levi nodded. ‘Jasper died. He shot himself. His father found him at their country house. We were all devastated. We
are
all devastated. He was such a great guy. I really miss him.’

Romilly felt her knees sway a little. She pictured sitting next to him at The Pineapple.
‘They lock their booze in their gun cabinet…’
She wondered if he had simply gone looking for drink and had seized the opportunity, or whether it was planned and had felt like the best solution.

Walking over to the side of the pavement, she placed her hand on the white-painted railings that ran the length of the bridge and gazed at the dark, whispering water below. ‘He was… He was…’

An exchange from one of their chats at The Pineapple came back to her.
‘Do you find everything funny?’
she’d asked.
‘No, but I’m very good at hiding behind my funnies.’

She glanced at Levi.
‘He was just lovely.’

She bent over and stared again at the water and cried, for pretty, young, funny Jasper and for the bloody waste of it all. She thought about his parents, who had now laid both their boys to rest, and she wept fresh tears for them.

Levi placed his hand on her back. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I just want to be on my own.’

‘Okay. Well, I’ll see you around, Red.’

She barely acknowledged him leaving.

Romilly stared at the water for some time, watching the currents swirling, endlessly chasing each other. She liked the look of the murky depths, thinking at that moment that if she couldn’t lose herself in the oblivion of drink, then maybe there was another way to end her pain, to find the peace that she craved.

She pictured herself lifting Celeste and dancing with her in the cereal aisle, remembering the way they had laughed.
‘I am the walrussusses!’
She smiled. Shedding her coat, she let it fall onto the pavement behind her and tossed her bag on top of it.

Gingerly, she climbed onto the wide edge of the bridge railing and balanced there with her arms outstretched and the wind whipping her Titian locks around her face. She pictured herself on her wedding day, standing among a cascade of pale petals; she could almost smell their honey-like perfume. David was staring at her and she him, and she knew that she would never stop loving him. A man further along the bridge was shouting, ‘Hey! Hey, you! Hang on! Don’t jump, just stay right where you are. I’m coming!’ She was only vaguely aware of his voice. Instead, she looked down and there was Jasper, beckoning her in, smiling. It was really good to see him again. She closed her eyes and tipped forwards.

Her hair fanned around her like a golden, fiery halo and the cold stopped the breath in her throat. She heard David calling to her. ‘Bug Girl! Hey, Bug Girl!’ And he tipped his head back laughing, waiting for her with arms open. Celeste was standing on a step singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’, loudly and slightly off key. Both the grandmas clapped enthusiastically at her efforts, while her dad plucked fat, ripe tommyatoes and popped them in a basket. And then Father Brian appeared, in front of a brilliant white orb of light. She stared at it, wanting to reach it, desperate to know where it led. The closer she got, the warmer she felt, and all doubt and all hurt fled from her, leaving her spirit soaring and her bones like new. ‘We have moved that boulder, Romilly,’ he whispered. ‘Concentrate, stay with it and focus on the light. Look at it, you’re nearly there…’

I was eighteen when I received the letter. I hadn’t heard from my mum in a few years and I didn’t know how to react. Part of me was so happy that she had written to me, because it meant that I hadn’t faded from her mind, like she had from mine. Another part of me was frightened, because her letter sounded like she was saying goodbye. I called Annie to come up to my room. I handed it to her without saying a word and she read it out loud, making it real for us both. When Annie got to the bit about me singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’ to Mum when I was four, her eyes welled up. She said addiction was a cruel illness and the saddest part was how much my mum wanted to go back and do things differently.

It was the first time I had truly thought of Mum’s drinking as an illness rather than something she chose. There’s one part of the letter that is still indelibly etched on my mind:

I wish I could have one last chance to do things differently. But deep down I know that I could be given an infinite numbers of chances and I would not change a thing. I would still end up here alone with this pen in my hand, shaking, with my heart fit to burst and my nose and throat thick with tears.

I would not change a thing because I can’t.

That made me so sad, and the intensity of it scared me, too. I thanked my stars for the hundredth time that I had always managed to say ‘no’ to alcohol. It made my life so much simpler. I think that’s one of the reasons I loved having Annie in my life, and definitely one of the reasons that Alistair’s family mean so much to me. They aren’t complicated and difficult; I love the straightforwardness of his life, his heritage; there’s no topic off limits, no person who can’t be mentioned. Reading that letter, I wished I’d known my mum more, before her life went off the rails, and I wished she could have known Alistair. But after the life I’ve led and the heartache I’ve watched Dad go through, there is one thing I’m certain of and that is that wishes don’t come true. Well, not all of them.

Saying goodbye to Father Brian had been a huge wrench, harder than she had imagined; he’d picked her up after so many falls. She gulped back the tears as she pictured him sitting patiently by her side all those months ago, waiting for her to come round. But she’d made it to Pewsey, just as she’d told him she would, from her hospital bed. Remembering that day always brought a lump to her throat. She’d woken up with a start, frightened by the beeps and the harsh strip light in the unfamiliar room, but reassured to see him there. ‘Where… where am I?’ she’d asked.

‘You’re in St Thomas’ Hospital. You were fished out of the Thames in the nick of time. Luckily a man saw you jump, or you might have been a gonner.’ He smiled at her. ‘You were hypothermic, delirious, and rambling more than usual, but you’re safe now, girl.’ He patted her arm.

‘I saw you.’

‘You saw me where?’ he asked softly.

‘Under the water. I saw you. You told me to look at the light.’

Father Brian looked at her and gave one of his kind, gentle smiles. ‘I did say that,’ he confirmed, ‘but you weren’t underwater Romilly. It was when the doctor was trying to check your pupils, he shone a great big torch in your face.’ He laughed. ‘Besides, I can’t swim.’

‘I want to go home,’ she whispered.

‘All in good time, dear.’

‘I don’t mean now.’ She swallowed, weakened by the effort of talking. ‘I mean when I can. I want to go back to Bristol, to be nearer my parents and nearer my daughter…’ She let this hang. How would she manage, without Chandler House, without him?

Many months later and that time had come. As she’d sat in Father Brian’s room for the very last time, he’d taken her pale hand inside both of his. ‘This is another big bend in the road, Romilly, and you must do what you feel is right. But remember, it’s been a long time for everyone who loves you. You’ve been absent and things will have changed for them, just as they have changed for you.’

She nodded. ‘I know. I’m not expecting much.’ This was half true.

‘And the danger is that when things change or disappoint you, there might be a temptation to—’

‘I know.’ She cut him short. ‘But, Father Brian, that temptation is there no matter what. At least now I feel able to make the right decision. You’ve given me the tools, remember?’

‘I do.’ He smiled. ‘And how are we doing with that boulder?’

She thought about it. ‘I’d say it’s been reduced to a large rock.’

‘Well, that’s a step.’ He chuckled.