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I immediately notice that he’s out of toilet paper. Brilliant. Why can’t people replace an empty loo roll for crying out loud? How hard can it be? But I’m savvy nowadays when it comes to using public lavs. I am no longer that woman who glances at an empty loo roll during mid-flow in horror, the woman who has to drip- dry or hobble around a bathroom, knees clasped together, looking for spares in vanity cupboards or tissue boxes hidden in obscure corners. No, these days, I ALWAYS check first.
I leg it into Daniel’s en-suite bathroom as quickly as my legs will carry me. Loo paper? Check. Hand towel? Check. Soap dispenser? Loaded. Great.
Gazing at the shiny bathroom taps, I inhale the scent of fresh pine. Daniel’s flat is spotless. The sliding doors of his shower cubicle at the rear of the en-suite are gleaming. All thanks to Pranvera, his loyal cleaner, who blitzes the flat twice a week.
A babble of voices drift up from the street as I pad into Daniel’s bedroom. I wonder if it’s the couriers. Perhaps they’ve come early. I fiddle with the drawstring of the black Venetian blind as I stare down at two burly men talking loudly on the pavement; they look like builders. They step out of the way as a middle-aged jogger trudges past them. One of them glances up at the window, and I back away. It’s only ten-past-four. I’ve got ages yet. God, I’m bored. I hate waiting around. I have been known to become a bit destructive when left alone with nothing to do, so I’d better not touch anything valuable.
I run my fingers along the frame of Daniel’s bed and sigh joyfully. It’s in a much neater state than when we left it this morning – bedcovers tucked in neatly, pillows plumped to perfection. Pranvera must’ve come around just after we left. I grin as I mosey over and sit on his side of the mattress feeling lucky, elated, excited about the future; then just as I’m about to tidy an uneven pile of paperbacks on the bedside table, my phone purrs in my handbag. I fish it out. A message from Daniel – finally.
Sorry, darling, change of plans. Con and Lily want to see us for pizza at 7.30. That ok?
Is that okay? I laugh. He’s already bloody well arranged it. I shake my head as I punch in my reply. A few moments later my phone vibrates again.
Great. Con & Lil with Aliki aft school. I’ll go straight from work. Meet outside the pizza bar on Pk Rd @ 7.30. Can’t wait 2 c u xxx
Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s why you swapped an intimate dinner date for a family outing for four, is it? Oh well, I shouldn’t grumble, as Mum said, “You knew he had a family, dear, you’d do the same in his shoes. At least he’s showing responsibility as a father”.
I slip my phone back into my handbag, catching my reflection in the wall-to-wall mirror of the fitted wardrobes that line the far end of the room. They make the average sized bedroom look enormous, nice trick. I’m about to look away when I notice a t-shirt sticking out of the chest of drawers next to the 42 inch T.V. mounted on the wall. Oh, bloody hell! Pranvera must be slacking - no loo paper, no book tidying, clothes trapped in drawers. I’m going to have to fix it, of course. I can’t spend the next fifteen minutes with that on my conscience.
The drawer slides open with a hiss. Daniel’s t-shirts are stacked in military style. Why am I not surprised? He’s almost as efficient as my mother. I said, almost. I tuck the t-shirt back inside, smiling to myself, and just then, I spot an A4 envelope with the words ‘My Treasures’ written across it in Daniel’s handwriting. Who keeps their paperwork in clothes drawers? I stroke the brown envelope. Treasures? Hmm…I wonder what’s inside. Curiosity slithers through me. I slide my fingers under the seal - it’s open. No, I can’t invade his privacy. I’m here to do a job, that’s all.
I close the drawer and walk away, but as I reach the door, I turn back. What harm could a little peek do? I am bored, and Connie did say that he doesn’t mind people looking at his stuff. If it were private, it’d be sealed, right? I bet it’s just memorabilia – family photos, that sort of thing. I glance at my watch again. There’s still another ten minutes before the delivery arrives. I go back to the drawer.
I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, envelope in hand. Maybe I should put it back. I chew the inside of my bottom lip, then quickly flip open the envelope and pull out a bundle of papers and photographs. They’re held together with a large, red elastic band. I carefully unbind them and they spill onto the bed like confetti.
A big grin spreads across my face. There’s a child’s drawing of a little girl in brown plaits with her parents on either side. They’re all united, holding hands in one long line. In the background, there’s a house with oversized windows and a big yellow sun, bigger than the house. On the top right-hand corner of the page, it’s signed Constance Taylor Class 2B Aged 4 ½. It’s pretty damned good for a four-year-old. Clearly, she was artistic from the outset.
Next, there’s a strand of blonde hair taped onto a white card with the inscription ‘Lily’s hair at eighteen months’ in neat handwriting. Not Daniel’s, must be Connie’s. I sift through a few envelopes addressed to Daniel and put them at the bottom of the pile. I won’t read his personal documents. Beneath the envelopes, I find several photographs. Oh my God, one is of me! It’s the one we took at Hyde Park recently. It was a warmish day so we decided to pop into Pret a Manger, grab a couple of sandwiches and coffees and head to the park.
We walked along, hand in hand, the autumn leaves swirling around our feet. On the bench, he held me in his arms, my head on his shoulder as we gazed at the swans and ducks gliding along the pond, telling each other anecdotes about our lives. Daniel decided to take a few selfies with his phone so that we could remember how happy we felt on that day. I’m touched that he actually got them printed. Mine are all on my phone clogging up all the memory.
I giggle at a photo of the two of us pulling faces at the camera. I’m honoured that he’s included me in his pile of treasures but, if I’m honest, I’m also a bit overwhelmed, and, dare I say it, creeped out. He hasn’t really known me that long. Don’t get me wrong, I really do like him but, I don’t know, he is a bit full-on sometimes. I flick through a few more photos, smiling. Perhaps he just really thinks a lot of me. My phone hums with a call. It’s my brother.
“Hi Aud, it’s me,” he says to the backdrop of yelling and the rumble of traffic. He must’ve just left school.
“Hey, George, you okay?”
“Yeah, not bad, you know how it is. Did Mum tell you about Vicks?”
“Yes, George, she did.” I tuck my hair behind my ear, concerned. “I knew there was something wrong, she’s just not been herself, has she? Poor Vicky.” I pause for a moment remembering her outburst in Mum and Dad’s bathroom a few weeks ago. “Anyway, I’m glad she’s sorting it out. Listen, I’m at Daniel’s now but I’ll give her a buzz later.”
“What in the middle of the afternoon? Don’t you people ever work?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I see you. And for your information, I’m working from home today; just launched Daniel’s website, actually. You should see it, George, it’s amazing. Fearne really did a great job on it. Erm…” I cluck my tongue in concentration, “Can I come round and see Vicky and the kids tomorrow? I really miss them. Would that be okay?”
“It’d be brilliant. We’d love it,” he says, “Florian’s been asking after his favourite aunt.” I smile down the phone.
“Er, hang on. I am his only aunt!” Vicky’s only got brothers.
“Speak to you tomorrow, sis,” he laughs, “love yoooou.”
I stand up, photos in hand, and walk towards the window, a smile dancing on my lips. George is such a lovable clown, I’m so lucky to have him. I fix my gaze on a rustling tree outside. I can’t believe how things have panned out. Nick’s having a child with someone else; I’m getting close to another man with a family. Not what I had planned a couple of months ago. Who’d have thought it?
I shake my head as I start sifting through the pictures again. There’s one of Connie smiling happily on the beach, must be in Cyprus. I crinkle my nose, how sweet. There are a few shots of Connie on her own, a couple with Lily, one of Daniel, Aliki and Lily, and several of family holidays and outings.
But it’s the last one that raises my curiosity. An oldey monochrome photo, out of focus and dog-eared. I place the rest of the pictures on the window-sill and hold onto it with both hands. A very young Daniel stares back at me, his arm slung around Aliki with baby Connie in her arms. Blimey Aliki’s put on a few pounds. She’s almost unrecognisable. A flicker of envy flutters in my stomach. They’re all smiling at the camera, their smiles reaching their eyes, they look so happy together. I wonder what went wrong, why after so many years of marriage they chose to go their separate ways.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The voice slices through the silence. I spin round, startled.
