Chapter Nineteen
September 2016
The dance studio became almost as familiar to Lydia as her home and place of work and she went down there as often as she could. She’d have a lesson every Monday and then do as many free sessions as she had time for, depending on whether the studio had space. The lesson Connor had booked for her had taken her by surprise but she hadn’t resisted at all, and finally she was doing what she’d failed to do since the end of last year: she was living her life the way it should be, the way Theo would want.
Lydia warmed up her body. She put her leg high on the bar and leaned over it, stretching her hamstrings and loosening up her back; she lay on the floor and did hip circles and glute stretches; she rolled up and down from a standing position to warm her spine and she put legs to one side and arms to the other while lying on the floor to twist her spine and get it ready. Today was a lesson and Veronica, the teacher, was the same lady Lydia had seen that first day when she was out of practice and unsure whether her emotions would stay inside her or all tumble out at the most inopportune moment.
Connor had waited outside for her that day. He said he wanted to know what his money had bought him. Would it bring him a Lydia who realised she was crazy to ignore her passion? Or would the session have turned her into an angry woman who wanted to castrate him for being so insensitive? Connor had been relieved to find a very happy Lydia, a woman who’d flung her arms around him so hard he stumbled back and would’ve fallen if the wall behind him hadn’t held him upright.
As she danced today, Lydia was engaged, physically and emotionally. Dancing was great when she was having a good day, something that happened all the more lately, and even when she was having a bad day, it lifted her spirits and helped her work through her emotions. Sometimes she’d have to fight and power through the start of a session but then when the release came, whether it was at the start, five minutes in, or not for almost an hour, eventually it would come and take a hold of her. She’d ached physically after the first session back and walked like she was injured after waking up muscles that hadn’t been engaged in a long while, but before long she was doing moves she’d thought she’d never do again and her body adjusted, giving her fluidity and confidence.
The air was cooler now the first month of autumn was underway but Lydia still walked home after the early morning session in a T-shirt and leggings, swigging from her water bottle. She’d danced before work today, making the most of the mornings while they were still light enough to want to drag yourself out of bed early. She showered and changed and walked the short distance to work, where she spent the rest of the morning with a photographer who had plenty of images ready to pair with her interrailing article.
When her phone rang just after midday, she assumed it was Connor nagging her to get downstairs. He was a stickler for meeting at the exact time they’d agreed and she hadn’t realised it was already four minutes past the hour.
‘Keep your boxers on, Connor. I’ll be down in a second.’ She giggled into the phone, the endorphins from the morning’s dance session still buzzing through her.
‘Lydia?’
Her insides sank. ‘Anita, is that you?’ Anita never called her, not since Theo had lived at the house. And she certainly never called at work.
‘It’s me. Who’s Connor?’
She couldn’t tell whether there was accusation in Anita’s voice or mere curiosity. ‘He’s a friend. I’m meeting him for lunch.’
‘That’s nice.’
Lydia waited for more and when nothing came she said, ‘Is Theo okay?’ What she really meant was, was there any change?
‘The same.’ Anita’s voice remained steady. ‘I’ve just had a call from a private rehabilitation centre I made enquiries with and I wanted to let you know they have a place available for him.’
Goose pimples travelled up Lydia’s arms.
‘They’re moving him within the next week,’ Anita went on, ‘when everything is organised and all the paperwork is done. I wanted to let you know. I didn’t know when you’d next be up here.’
Lydia didn’t miss the accusation this time, the tone of voice gave it away. It’d been almost four weeks since her last visit rather than three and Anita didn’t miss anything. ‘I was hoping to come up on Saturday. I couldn’t make this weekend because I was helping a friend move house.’ Sally and Gerry had moved into their own place rather than the rented flat, and although they’d insisted they didn’t need help, Lydia owed them big-time for how they’d stood by her. She’d even roped in Connor to help and between them they’d finished and were eating a curry by seven o’clock.
Lydia kept her voice upbeat but it summoned all of her willpower. ‘Will he still be in the care home on Saturday?’
‘I can’t guarantee it. Maybe wait until the weekend after, that’d be best. Then he’ll hopefully be at the rehabilitation centre. Do you have a pen and paper and I’ll give you the address?’
Lydia picked up her pen and noted down all the details. ‘I’ll see you a week on Saturday then.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask more about Theo: how was he progressing, if at all? Did the experts really think the rehab facility would change anything? And as Lydia left to meet Connor for lunch, she knew one thing for certain. Theo was getting out of the care home where the average age was about seventy-five, and she allowed herself a small smile. Because if Theo was at all aware of what was going on right now, if he could, he’d be punching the air and saying thank goodness I’m out of here.
*
It turned out there had been a mix up at the rehabilitation facility and they wouldn’t be able to take Theo until early December, some three months away. Anita was fuming but Lydia stayed away from all the anger and the angst because none of it would help. It was what it was, yet another situation out of their control, and you either used your energy fighting it or you accepted it and dealt with it the best you could.
Lydia booked a hire car again and drove up that weekend, but this time she was doing the journey in a single day so she’d avoid the accommodation conundrum, but also so she’d be home as soon as possible. Now she was back at dancing she liked nothing more than starting a Sunday with a good session. It made her feel alive, like she was at last doing something right.
When she arrived at the care home, the summer blooms were hanging in there in the gardens out front of the Edwardian house and the staff, some of whom weren’t so bad, were still energetic enough as they welcomed her at the door. She wondered how dreary this place got in winter, whether the staff bothered to put up nice Christmas decorations or whether it was considered too costly an event so they made do with a lopsided fake tree and tacky tinsel that fell down because they hadn’t even cared enough to put it up properly.
Up in Theo’s room Lydia was surprised to find Anita, busy arranging white camellias in a vase on the windowsill and straightening the curtains as if Theo could possibly give a crap. Lydia had been touched at all the little things Anita did at first, showing how much they all cared about Theo, how much they all loved him. But now these things niggled her more than anything. They’d failed him in so many ways and no amount of flowers or tiny touches were going to make it right.
She almost let a giggle escape as Anita perfected the flower arrangement because Theo wouldn’t care even if he was conscious! Lydia had forever been asking him to put his shoes away, hang his suit jackets in the wardrobe rather than drape them across the back of the chair in their bedroom, and they’d laughed at his inability to hang a tea towel up after he’d used it. It wasn’t that he was lazy, it was just that he didn’t deem any of it as particularly important and those were the small idiosyncrasies that made Lydia love him all the more. She’d always said that it was better he was like that than constantly naggingherto do things right. She much preferred to be the bossy one.
‘I thought you’d be in earlier,’ Lydia said to Anita. Translation: I didn’t think I’d have to bump into you.
