- •Harriet evans ))))))
- •If you close your eyes, perhaps you can still see them. As they were that sundrenched afternoon, the day everything changed.
- •Part one February 2009
- •I nod instead. 'Of course,' I say. 'Have you booked a cabin?'
- •I blink, trying to take it in. 'So?'
- •I can't answer this, as I know she's right, but I can't agree with her without hurting her feelings. 'I just don't know, Mum,' I say. 'I look at our life together and I—'
- •Frances Seymour
- •I'm going to scream. I'm going to scream. Yes, I am.
- •I don't care about their damn c/othes.
- •If Louisa was surprised at this sudden confidence from her brother, she didn't show it. 'She is rather a funny old thing, isn't she,' she said casually. 'What do you mean exactly?'
- •Into the silence that followed this statement came Mary. 'Now, does anyone want some more coffee?' she said, wiping her hands on her apron. 'Eggs? Frank, how about you?'
- •91All right,' she said.
- •It came to an end for them not long afterwards. The following day, Saturday, was hot and muggy, and over the next few days the winds seemed to drop as the temperature increased.
- •Part three February 2009
- •I take the pages out from my skirt and look at them, wondering what comes next.
- •I am not in the mood for her amateur dramatics, her sighing and hair tossing. 'I had my reasons,' I say. 'I told you that. I'm sorry if you feel left out.'
- •I remember how angry she was with him in the kitchen, just before I left last night. Only twenty-four hours ago. 'Why not? He seemed quite nice. As if he knew what he was talking about.'
- •I am completely absorbed by the conversation and her voice in my ear, but the noise, someone calling my name, somewhere nearby, makes me jerk upright and I remember. I didn't close the door.
- •I nod. 'Sorry. I needed to get out. You were still asleep.' Oli touches my hand. 'Look,' he says. 'You can't just run away again. We need to talk about this.'
- •I can't believe she feels guilty about it. 'Louisa, you've been amazing,' I say, and it's true. 'Please! What are you talking about?'
- •I'd forgotten; she told me that awful day at Arthur's, that she wasn't working with him any more. I should have remembered. I just haven't seen them. I blush. 'Of course, sorry.'
- •I unfurl my legs, stiff and aching from the cold and from being in the same position for so long. I roll my head slowly around my neck, and it crunches satisfyingly.
- •I ask just one more question. 'You don't know where she is, though?' 'No,' he says. 'As I said, she'll be back.'
- •The frances seymour foundation
- •I laugh: Ben is really funny. Then there's an awkward silence, in amongst the noise and chatter of the pub. I start picking at a beer mat.
- •I nod emphatically. 'Sure.'
- •I don't know how to respond to such honesty, and the silence is rather uncomfortable. After a few moments, Guy recalls himself.
- •I don't say anything. 'Natasha, you don't know what it's like to lose a sibling,' he says.
- •It is V hot in Dad's study. I remember that even in winter & today in the heat it was baking. Me: No.
- •Part four March 2009
- •I stare at him, unsure of what to say next - so, is it normal between us now? Is that it?
- •I don't expect him to remember. 'Cecily's diary?' he says immediately. 'I've been wondering about that. Did your mum have it?'
- •I touched her shoulder. 'Cathy - it's Oli,' I said. 'Look - over there. He's - I'm sorry. I just, I just want to get out of here.'
- •I want to say, I don't bloody care about bloody Fez! What the hell are you talking about! I want to know about the diary, about you, about what you think of all of this! Jesus! h! Christ!
- •I must be imagining it, but it seems his tone is softer, kinder, for a moment, and the parent he could have been is apparent for a split second.
- •I say softly, 'How could you ever forgive Granny, Arvind? I mean - did you know?' He is silent, for so long that I think perhaps he hasn't heard me.
- •I see Mum taking in her out-of-breath cousin, in her slightly too-sheer white kaftan, red shining face, floral skirt and fluffy blonde hair.
- •I lean forward and give her a big hug. 'Thank you for everything you did today,' I say. 'Well, everything. You should come into town some time. Come and see me.'
- •I was starving, but now I have no appetite at all. 'No, thanks. Can I have a coffee?' I say.
- •If I can do this right now.'
- •I blink; it still sounds so strange. 'You didn't have any idea? I mean - you knew you'd slept with her, Guy, didn't you? Are you trying to say she drugged you?'
- •I smile, because he's totally right, and it's so strange that he knows this. Knows her as well as he does. I prop my elbows up on the table, my chin in my hands, listening intently.
- •I let his fingers rest on mine, feeling his warm dry hand, his flesh, and I stare at him again in
- •I shake my head, overwhelmed all of a sudden. I don't know what to say and I am very tired. 'I'm
- •I nod. 'He's lovely.'
- •I take a deep breath. I'm feeling completely light-headed, with the running, the sunshine, the events of the last hour.
I nod. 'He's lovely.'
She swallows and shakes her head, as if she disagrees, but with a catch in her voice she says, 'He is a lovely man. I'll love him. Always. Anyway,' she says. 'Off I go to find Jean-Luc.'
'Mum -!' I say, light dawning. 'But that's silly, can't you . . . he's very lonely. I know he'd love to find someone again. Why not you?'
Mum takes the necklace out of the bag and puts it round her neck, adjusting it a little so it sits right, on the cerise and blue silk of her dress, the gold chain settling on her smooth, caramel-coloured skin. 'Darling, I used to think that, you know. But it's too late for us. Far, far too late. Like I say, too much history. My whole life's been about history. It's nice to start again with someone else, that's the sad truth. But I'll never stop loving him.' She opens her eyes wide. 'He's your father, apart from anything else.' And then she says, 'That's the only advice I'll ever give you. Don't leave it too late. Don't wish you'd done something about it in ten years' time. Do something about it now.'
'Now?'
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'Now,' she says firmly. 'I really am going. Goodbye. I'm very proud of you.'
Without a kiss, without any other farewell, she walks off. I stare, my mouth open, and sit back wearily on the stool, as if I've been awake for a week. I can see her leave, the bright colours of her dress like a peacock strutting through the sun.
'She's lovely, is that your mum?' Sara says from the stall next to me, where she's been watching everything, curiously. 'You've got a big enough family, haven't you?' she laughs. I stare at her, and then I laugh too.
'I suppose I have. How about you?'
'Massive,' Sara sighs. 'But I don't tell them where my stall is, that's for sure. First time I had it? I had my two sisters come and tell me I was putting all the stuff in the wrong place. Nearly killed them, I did. That's families for you, eh?'
I laugh shortly. 'You're telling me.' I stand up. 'Saz, can you do me a favour, can you mind the stall for five minutes?'
She nods. 'OK, but you do me when you're back.'
'Of course.' I wave to her, setting off at a run. 'I have to go somewhere.'
I run out of the hall and downstairs past the stallholders, out into Brick Lane, bobbing and weaving my way through the crowds of people moving slowly down the road laden down with plants, bric-a-brac, drinks. It is hot, nearly midday. I dart around them, dodge down the back of people's stalls, inhaling the smell of burritos, coffee, weed, spices and pollution that is in the heart of the city, a world, a lifetime away from Cornwall. As I run past Princelet Street I glance to my right at my old home, and I nearly stumble across an old Bengali man.
I turn into Heneage Street, only two blocks along. I am out of breath with ducking and diving and I stop to collect myself. There is the Pride of Spitalfields, tucked neatly away, with a knot of drinkers standing outside in the sun. One of them looks up at me, squinting. 'Nat?' It's Jay. 'Did you finish early?'
I shake my head. 'Can you give me a minute?' I say to him, still panting. His companion is standing with his back to me. It is Ben. He turns to look at me. 'Give her a minute,' he says. 'She's very unfit.'
'No. You, Jay,' I say in short bursts. 'Give me a minute. I mean. Go away.' I gesture for him to buzz off.
Jay looks at me like I'm mad. 'I'll get us another pint,' he says. 'What do you want?'
'She'll have a vodka, lime and soda,' Ben says immediately. 'And some water, by the looks of
her.'
I nod gratefully at him, and Jay disappears into the dark pub.
'Hey, Nat,' Ben says, his voice friendly but a little guarded. 'It's nice to see you again. Where's your mum gone?'
'Lunch with boyfriend,' I say. I stand up straight, finally having got my breath back. 'She said something to me. I thought I should come and say it to you. Because—' I breathe in, and then out. 'Because it's important.'
'Right,' Ben says. He moves a little way away from the drinkers, so we are standing in the shadow of the houses. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean - oh, well. Here goes.' I take a deep breath. 'Look. I know you're seeing Jamie. I saw you
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two together, one night.'
'Hold on.' Ben holds up his hand. 'We're not together.' 'Yes, you are.'
'No, we're not. I snogged her, a couple of months ago, we were both a bit drunk. You saw us?' He blinks.
I feel like a stalker. 'Yes,' I say. 'I came back to the studio and you two were there. In the dark . .
'Les had that reading in the basement, do you remember? You couldn't go. Jamie and I went, it was . . .' He shudders. 'It was pretty hard work. All about a boy growing up with no fingers in Chatham and joining a gang. Jamie let me drink out of her hipflask.'
Domn Jomie with her cool hipflosk-toting woys, I think. 'There were drinks afterwards . . .' He is staring at me. 'We're not together, Nat. You of all people should know that.'
'But you were there today! Together!'
'No, we bloody weren't!' His voice is rising in exasperation. 'Is this why you were so weird, before I went away, the last few weeks? Man!' He looks furious. 'Listen. I arrive, I look round, she's arrived! It's not out of the realms of comprehension we'd all bump into each other at midday at an event to which you specifically asked us to arriveot middoy, is it?'
'Fine, fine, I get it.' I clear my throat. 'Oh. OK. So - you're not with her?'
'Believe me, it's at times like these that I wish I was,' Ben says slowly. 'But no, I'm not.'
'Oh,' I say again. 'What did you want to ask me?'
'It doesn't matter.' I wipe my hand along my forehead. 'Look - I'd better go back to the stall . . .'
He catches my hand in his. He's smiling. 'Nat, I'm joking. I don't want to be with Jamie. I mean, she's really sweet, but we're not at all right for each other. She doesn't like Morecambe and Wise, for starters. Now, again please. What did you want to ask me?'