The Lie of You: I Will Have What Is Mine (25 page)

‘But you’re about to launch your guide.’

‘Yes. I did honestly think about leaving the magazine. I’ve calmed down a bit now.’

‘Do you like the rest of your team?’

‘Yes, they’re a great bunch. You know as editor you have to keep yourself a bit aloof.’

‘I don’t think I could ever work for a company,’ he said. ‘I’ve been freelancing all my life and it suits me fine.’

He smiled at me so warmly and it felt easy talking to him.

‘And how is your Billy?’

‘Just wonderful and on the point of walking. Then watch out, I won’t have a minute to myself.’

‘I kind of envy you that.’

‘You don’t have any children yet?’

‘No, to the regret of my parents! They’ve made it clear they expect grandchildren some day soon.’

‘Parents do that to men too, do they?’

‘Oh yes!’

‘I was in this relationship for about six years, before Markus. My mum in particular gave off this unspoken longing that I produce the next generation.’

‘What happened?’

‘We split up, eventually. Eddie drinks, you see. Not all the time, but he is a problem drinker. I adored him and wouldn’t see it for what it was. I kept hoping he would sort himself out.’

Hector nodded, his brown eyes warm on me.

‘That must have been painful.’

‘It was.’

We ordered a second round of tea and coffee. I didn’t want the lunch to end and Hector seemed keen to talk on.

‘I made the final break and then I met Markus soon after and got pregnant really quickly. It’s sort of left me reeling really, everything happening so fast.’

I sipped my tea, hoping I hadn’t implied too much.

‘I’m not surprised; and a prick of a boss too...!’

I giggled.

‘That’s enough about me. Are you with someone?’

‘Not now. I was. I was with Lucia for about five years but it didn’t work out.’

‘I’m sorry. What went wrong?’

‘She couldn’t stand that I had to travel so much to do my work. We moved in together quite soon after we met. And she wanted me to be there all the time. Her neediness drove me crazy. It drove me away in the end. It was hard because I had really fallen for her.’

‘Do you keep in touch?’

‘No. She is married now and happy with a husband who does not go away. You don’t realize when you’re starting out and falling in love just how important it is to find someone who fits with you, who has similar expectations. I could never be happy long term with a needy woman. I tried so hard to make it work with Lucia though.’

We all have these failed relationships, I thought. Why is it so difficult to get it right?

‘We’re both battle-scarred,’ I said.

‘Yes, we are both veterans! Thanks for today, Kathy, it’s been fun.’

‘It’s been great.’

I paid the bill, in spite of Hector’s protests. We walked out onto Camden Parkway and I pointed him to the tube at the bottom of the road. I was going to get a taxi back to Primrose Hill. I’d been out of the office nearly three hours.

‘See you at the launch,’ he said, giving me a proper hug.

He turned to walk away and then turned back just as I was stepping into a taxi.

‘Kathy...’

I looked up.

‘You can always call me if you need to talk to a friendly, you know, veteran.’

‘Thank you.’

In the taxi going back to work I felt better about things for the first time in weeks. Seeing Hector had made me feel more hopeful. And then I realized what it was. Hector made me feel like I was a good person after all.

OCTOBER

The river is grey today. The sky is overcast and the wind is driving ripples across the surface of the water. The slope of the ripples has been growing steeper all day so the wind must be getting up. This is my last day in this, my beautiful room. The last time I will be able to stand at my large window and look at the river and the bridge. I have grown to love this view. Markus stood here when we saw each other again for the first time after our seven years apart. He always wanted to live by water. When he was a student he told me that one day he would have a place with an unbroken view of sea and sky. He told me that when we were first together and at that stage of telling each other everything we wanted from life. The psychic undressing you do when you start a love affair; the psychic undressing that is more important than the actual taking off of your clothes.

We were lying in bed in his bare student room. He lived in a commune and his room was at the top of the house. It was a noisy house. There were no carpets. You could hear his flatmates thundering up and down the stairs. His room was immaculate. He had painted the floorboards with white gloss paint. The bed linen was all white too. He had a table, a chair, a good radio and an old-fashioned built-in cupboard. That was it. He had stuck some of his architectural drawings on the walls. We talked about the house he would design and build for us one day by the edge of the sea.

Last week I received a handwritten letter from Philip Parr. He said that he hoped his letter would reach me as he knew I was in Finland. He was so sorry to hear of the trouble in my family. If he could do anything to help I was to contact him. He was also very sorry I had decided to leave the magazine. I had made a great contribution to it and if I changed my mind there would always be a role for me on his staff.

I am sure there would be. What would be the point of that? I have expended so much energy getting that job and working in her team. And what has it achieved? I may have caused her some uncomfortable moments. I may have dented her. All that effort has not brought her down. She has depths of resilience that she can draw on. And I no longer have the time.

I have kept the answering machine on for the last few weeks and this morning there was a message from Ilkka Laine. I have not spoken to Ilkka for many months. He said that a Robert Mirzoeff had been in touch, had asked him for my parents’ address and should he give it to him? I called him back.

‘Heja, it’s wonderful to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if you’d even get my message. I thought you might be here. How are things?’

‘Very good, really very good... Now, what’s this about Robert Mirzoeff?’

‘He left a message, some days ago. I only just got it. We’ve been away. Said he was a close friend and wanted your parents’ address. He’d heard Solange was very ill and that you were back here.’

‘No, no, not at all; I am sorry, Ilkka. I don’t know how he got your number. The thing is I want to end my relationship with Robert so I told him I had gone to Helsinki for the foreseeable future. I did not give him a forwarding address and I do not want him to have one!’

‘He sounded very concerned. Said he wanted to help if he could...’

‘He’s a nice enough man, but it was never going to work out. He wanted to get serious and wouldn’t take no for an answer.’

‘Still the heartbreaker, I see. And your mother is OK?’

‘She’s fine. They are just back from a four-week holiday in France.’

‘That’s good, then. And when are you coming back to Helsinki?’

‘I’m not sure. When I do, we must get together. Are you still enjoying work?’

‘Not really. Not the fun it once was and not a job for mature people any more. The idiot children are in control these days. You were clever to get out when you did.’

‘Thanks for the call, Ilkka. And please make some excuse to Robert.’

‘Of course I will. Take care, Heja.’

Damn Robert. Damn him. How did he get Ilkka’s number? And how could he know that I said Solange was ill? I did not say anything about Solange in my letter to him. There is only one possible explanation. He has been to see
her
. The only place I ever wrote Ilkka Laine’s number was on my job application. She must have given it to him. I can just imagine the two of them meeting up in her office. She would be all fake reasonableness, ever the professional manager. He would probe gently until he got more information out of her than she meant to give, or should have given, him. He insinuates his way into people’s confidence. He is someone who does not respect boundaries, whether it is my body or my plans. I have the same sensation of my inner self being probed as when he used to stick his fingers up me.

They will leave by six o’clock at the latest. The party starts at seven and goes on till nine-thirty. She will have to stay till the end and Markus will stay on to show his support. The childminder will be at their flat. She will watch television in their sitting room. Maybe smoke a cigarette with the window open. Or call that boyfriend of hers. It will just be a matter of choosing my moment. I will not go there till eight o’clock. Billy should be asleep by then.

I assembled all the paraphernalia for the journey in the middle of the room: my suitcase with my things and a holdall for Billy’s things, including the pack of nappies. I had already stowed the buggy I bought on the floor of the car, covered with a blanket. Then I closed and taped down a cardboard box containing the bottles and baby foods. So much stuff! I do not want the caretaker to see what I am loading. He is an ex-cop. He takes a lively interest in our comings and goings. I have to get all this from my apartment into the boot of the Volvo. Then I will need to rest before the drive.

First I took everything out and put it by the lift. I locked my apartment and moved all the stuff into the lift. At the ground floor I moved everything out into the lobby.

The caretaker saw this and moved from behind his desk. He has a fat face and wears one of those absurd white shirts with navy epaulettes with brass buttons on them as if to convey authority. His shirt was tucked into navy trousers and his belly was hanging over the top of his black leather belt.

‘Morning. Can I help you with that?’

‘Thank you.’

He picked up my suitcase and the box. I followed him and he held the doors open for me. We crossed the forecourt. I knew he would ask where I was going.

‘Going away for a bit, are you?’

‘Yes, for a week or so.’

‘This isn’t your usual car, is it?’

‘No. That is in for some work.’

‘Got pranged, did it?’

‘I am sorry?’

‘Your car, it got damaged?’

I opened the boot. He lifted my suitcase in then placed the box and the holdall neatly by its side.

‘No, it just needed a good service.’

‘Right, right. Going anywhere nice?’

‘The Lake District.’

‘Ahh, lovely spot... May be a bit wet, though, this time of the year. Looks like there’s a storm brewing today.’

I looked up. Great purple-grey clouds were forming over the river. I locked the boot and we walked back together.

‘Thank you for your help.’

‘I’ll keep an eye on your flat while you’re away.’

‘I would appreciate that.’

I opened my bag and gave him a twenty-pound note. How I detest the English and their snooping ways.

I stood outside the front door of her flat and listened intently. No sound came through the door. I slid my key into the lock and turned the key and the handle softly. I pushed the door open one inch and listened again. I could hear the rise and fall of TV voices coming from their sitting room. I pushed the door open further and looked down the landing. The table light was on in the hall and light was coming from Billy’s room. I stepped in, closing the door silently behind me, not letting the lock engage, then walked into Billy’s room. He was lying on his back asleep in his cot.

I closed his door behind me and picked up the padded jacket hanging on the back of the door. The wind was getting up and he would need it. Then I leant over his cot and picked him up, bringing his blanket with him. He made a funny little noise as I lifted him. I wrapped the blanket securely around him and rocked him in my arms until he settled back to sleep. Then I walked back to the door and opened it carefully. Still the voices from the TV rose and fell. I walked down the hall through the door and pushed it to behind me, again not letting the lock engage. In three minutes I was out of the building. I lay Billy on the back seat wrapped in his blanket. It took me a few minutes to secure him there with the car seat belts. I had not bought a baby car seat. They are so visible and we would only be making the one long journey. I got into the front seat, started the engine and began the journey to Kent.

OCTOBER

We arrived at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office at five-thirty p.m. A security guard lifted the outer gate for us and Philip drove in through the arch and stopped at the security window. A man checked the registration number against a clipboard, checked our names and then examined the underneath of our car with a torch and a metal detector. I wondered if all the guests would have to go through these security procedures. It was a government building, of course, and these days such checks were the norm. The security man handed Philip a square paper pass to put inside the windscreen. Philip drove slowly into the quadrangle and parked the car. Victoria and I got out and she pulled her skirt down as a strong wind whipped across the quadrangle, swirling grit into our faces.

‘Hope this weather won’t put people off,’ Victoria muttered to me.

‘What?’ Philip asked. He had sprung out of the car, all fired up. He was wearing a brown linen suit that did not suit him and I wondered if he was nervous at all. I certainly was.

‘I was just saying it’s good we’re so early – plenty of time to check the sound system and the promo.’

We walked into the building accompanied by the event organizer, who had been waiting for us. The grand staircase swept up in front of us, a mass of richly coloured marble at our feet and gold decoration above. Two great ormolu chandeliers hung over the staircase. My eyes were drawn upwards to a dome of gold decorated with a circle of female figures, each representing a different country. At the top of the staircase we walked past a sequence of the most extraordinary wall-sized murals.