AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ronan takes a drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke out of the side of his mouth all the while regarding me carefully. “I told him he was a bloody fool to leave you,” he confesses. I fold my arms tightly across my chest and sink further into Ronan’s oversized jacket. “I said he’d never find another woman like you. Jesus, I should know.” I furrow my brows and look at him properly for the first time. His skin is dry and patchy. His blue eyes, red and lacklustre, missing their usual mischievous sparkle. I thought it was due to the strain of Nick but now I’m not so sure.
“Is everything all right at home?” I touch his elbow gently, his jacket slides off my shoulder. I catch it with my free hand and pull it close to my chest.
“Nah, not really.” The orange tip of his cigarette glows and crackles as he takes another long drag. “Catherine’s been having an affair.” He blows out the smoke hard and fast through his nose and mouth.
“Oh, Ro.” I wrap my fingers around his cold forearm tightly, poor man must be freezing in that flimsy white cotton shirt. “I’m so sorry.” Ronan adores his family, they’re his world. “When did this happen?” I ask softly, “Is it serious?” He shrugs his shoulders and stares at his brown Chelsea boots. They look expensive, soft leather, tailored with a brogue style stitching; even the elastic support at the sides have a diamond shaped leather emblem neatly stitched onto the fabric. I noticed that when we were sitting upstairs. “What are you going to do? I mean? Is it still going on? Is she in love with this guy, or what?”
“I dunno.” He takes a final drag and chucks his cigarette on the floor, twisting his foot over it. Behind him I spy a square metal public ashtray overflowing with fag ends. I keep quiet. I’ll pick it up before we go in. “She says it’s over but…I don’t know what to believe anymore. I mean, it’s not that simple for us, is it? We’ve got the kids to consider.” I’m taken aback. It wasn’t that simple for me and Nick either. It was agony. I still feel bereft. “I’ll never leave my kids, Audrey. Never.” Then he looks at me, “I just wish Catherine was more like you, that’s all.” He holds my gaze, just a fraction longer than comfortably acceptable. “But I guess we both ended up with the wrong people, didn’t we?” Oh my, God, are Ronan and I having a moment?
I blink hurriedly, squat, pick up the butt end and chuck it in the ashtray. “Stub bin behind you,” I say, breaking the spell. I know it’s pathetic but I can’t think of anything else to say after that look.
He turns stiffly and looks at it. “Oh. Sorry, didn’t see that. Thanks.” We’re silent for a few moments, and then, “You’d have made a great wife. Audrey. Nick’s an idiot.” My cheeks are on fire. I don’t know where to look. A woman is walking towards me, smiling, tight curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. She looks at Ronan suggestively as she strolls by but he doesn’t respond. “Oh, come here,” he says, pulling me close and dropping a kiss on my forehead in a brotherly fashion. I let out a long sigh of relief. I must’ve read it wrong. Phew. “Come on, trouble, let’s go inside.”
We’re back in the comfortable, squishy chairs. “Here, do you want one?” Ronan whispers, extending a tube of mints. “It’s a bit eerie in here, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…it is a bit.” I ease the white sweet out of the packet and pop it into my mouth. “But most patients are heavily sedated, or in a coma.”
“You’d think they’d have some visitors, though, wouldn’t you?” We both look around the ward, most bays are empty. “Just the sound of movement would be nice. Oooh, there, look.” He points at a little, frail old man sitting by an elderly woman’s bed across the ward, a slight tremor in his hands. “But is he real or is he a ghost?…Whooooo.” Ronan throws his arms up over me and widens his eyes like a phantom.
“Ronan, shhhh…” A couple of the nurses glance up at us from their worksheets. “You’re going to get us kicked out,” I hiss, slapping his arm.
“Sorry.” He hunches his shoulders and sucks loudly on his sweet. I shake my head, smiling incredulously. “Do you believe in an afterlife, Audrey?” he asks, crunching the mint. It seems that he’s determined to make as much noise as possible.
“No, I don’t. This is it.” Nick and I agreed that we’d enjoy every drop of life before it ran out. We’re both sceptics. “I mean, I’d like to…but, well, it’s not feasible, is it.” Ronan nods, lips turned downward. “What about you?”
“Same here, really.” The monitor bleep, bleep, bleeps. “What you said before,” Ronan says, his voice now serious. “That you don’t think you should be here.” I don’t take my eyes off Nick. “I know your family and friends are looking out for you, and they have got a point. Jeez, what he did to you was unforgivable.” My stomach clenches. “I do understand, you know.” He leans forward, elbow on knee, face in hand, “and I don’t blame you if you just get up now and walk out those doors.” He nods towards the exit. “But whatever happened between you two, well, you can still support him as a friend, can’t you? You had eight great years together.” Silence. “I know he still loves you, Audrey. Maybe I shouldn’t say this but it was the last thing he said to me before he left the flat.” My heart does an unexpected, an unwanted, an unwelcome jig in my chest. “You will come and see him again, won’t you?” he asks.
I stare at him silently, watching his long, white blonde eyelashes dancing as he blinks repeatedly. “Yes,” I say finally to more beeping from the monitor. “Of course, I will. At least until he wakes up.” I swallow hard. “I’ll pop round with you tomorrow morning before I go to check on my mum and dad’s house.”
10
Nostalgia creeps into every fibre of my body as I push the key into the lock and quietly let myself in. I always feel like this when my parents are away. I grew up here. In this neighbourhood. In this four-bedroom semi in Whetstone, with George’s Fish and Chip shop around the corner and The Queen’s Head down the road - Mum and Dad’s local. I lean my back against the heavy oak door and it closes with a heavy thud, filling the silence.
On the hall table, a vase of dried-up roses haunts the large, square hallway. The frayed yellowing buds once bright, young and bursting with vitality, now wilted and arched over like candle snuffers – a fate that awaits us all, if we live long enough, I suppose. Apart from Mum, that is, she’ll be flexible and nimble forever with all that walking and yoga she does. “Maria and I went to our first Bikram class today, Audrey,” she boasted last night when she called to see how I was. “No, darling, yoga isn’t all the same. This is HOT yoga. The room alone was 38ºC. You get all sweaty, burn off lots of fat and sleep like a baby. It’s fabulous. You should try it.” I bend down and scoop up a pile of letters and leaflets from the original black and white tiled floor, inhaling the musty air. I’m guessing George hasn’t been around for a while.
In the lounge, my eyes are instantly drawn to the Audrey Hepburn canvas on the wall. Mum’s pride and joy. Her pièce de résistance. It’s bang on in the centre, you can’t miss it. Dad bought it for her for her sixty-fifth. We chose it together from Camden Market. I had to hide it in my bedroom wardrobe for three weeks because Dad wanted to surprise her with it on the day. Despite his alpha male demeanour, he’s an old softy at heart. She was overjoyed, to say the least. She had Nick up there with a drill, screws, and rawplugs the moment he walked through the door. I can still picture the scene in my mind’s eye.
“A bit more to the left, Nicholas,” Mum always called him by his full name, “no, no you’ve gone too far now. To the right… the right I said!”
“I AM going to the right. Goodness, Mrs F, I wouldn’t like to be stuck in a car with you navigating.” Mum and Nick always enjoyed a good old banter. They didn’t mean anything by it. I think they actually quite enjoyed outwitting each other. Dad and I just sat there in companionable silence, watching the floorshow, tongue in cheek.
I move closer towards the picture, admiring its artistry. It is quite stunning, beautifully crafted in gold leaf and finished with a sprinkling of diamantes on the earring and necklace, bringing the image to life. Mum’s a huge Hepburn fan, hence my name. She loves all her old movies; Breakfast at Tiffany’s in particular, hence both our names.
I’ve always hated my name. Audrey Fox – so dowdy, so old- fashioned. I’d much rather have been called something glamorous and stylish like Maia or Zara, or even Louise.
Light floods the room as I pull on the curtain lead. I climb onto the armchair and reach for the top latch. The house is gasping for some fresh air. Stumbling back down, I gaze around me, hands on hips. What else needs doing? I don’t want them coming back to an untidy home. Clearly, George and Vicky were more interested in spring cleaning my place than taking care of this one.
Mum’s so house proud, another attribute she’s bestowed on me. She likes everything to be in its place. Books returned to the shelf, drawers closed, lids put back on jars, wilted flowers BINNED! As I go towards the hallway, I catch sight of her cardigan, laid on the armrest of the floral sofa. I wonder if she forgot to take it with her. It’s her favourite black cashmere.
I pick it up and draw it to my face, closing my eyes. It smells of Chanel No5. Inhaling deeply I’m whisked back to when I was a little girl. I’m running in from the garden, hot and sweaty from playing in the sunshine. Mum swoops me up in her arms and swings me around planting kisses all over my face, asking me if I’ve had a nice day, telling me how much she missed me. Dad pulling me out of her embrace as George makes a beeline for her, worm in each hand. Happy days. I’m going to miss them so much when they move to Cyprus. The shrill of the telephone makes me jump.
“Audrey!” It’s George. “Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you all morning; didn’t you get any of my messages? Is your phone switched off? I’ve been worried sick. I thought something might’ve happened.” Like what? Jumping off the Archway Bridge? Swallowing a handful of pills? What do they all take me for, for goodness sake?
“My battery died,” I lie. I cradle the handset between my jaw and shoulder and head into the kitchen carrying the large, square, vase of dead flowers. I rejected all George’s calls earlier because I was at the hospital visiting Nick, then when he persevered I was forced to switch it off.
“What about at home, then?” he persists, “I’ve been calling since nine this morning.”
“I had a blood test at the doctor’s this morning.” This is true. I popped into the surgery before picking Ronan up from Nick’s flat. I tug at the white tape on my arm holding a big blob of cotton wool in place.
