I nodded. ‘The delivery driver said something about the weather, road conditions, you know.’ I indicated the sleet and fog outside the large window nearest the office door. It was a classic January sky, flinty grey with only a smudge of sunlight visible through the murk. ‘I wonder if Layla’s train might be cancelled; couple of wet leaves on the line is usually all it takes.’ I shrugged. ‘She’s heading back to uni in a couple of days.’
I cast my mind back to the last time I’d dropped my daughter at the station after her reading week in November. The tightening in my throat so similar to that first day we’d droppedher off in halls.The Big Issueman saying, ‘Don’t be sad, love. You’ll see her again soon!’ as I bundled past him, my eyes blurry with tears. I didn’t even have the heart to buy a copy, I was so desperate to get back to the car and bawl my eyes out. Must remember to do that when I’m there in a few days – buy a copy ofThe Big Issuethat is, not bawl my eyes out – that’s a given.
‘Is that why you’re a bit down?’ Malia said, appearing in the office door with a half packet of ginger nuts. ‘Layla?’
I nodded, feeling the tears welling up again. I didn’t want to give in to it, to admit that the hollow sensation was returning, my chest feeling like an empty old house, abandoned and cold, creaking as it slowly disintegrated under the weight of its own sorrow. But the tears came anyway and Malia brought me a paper towel from next to the sink along with the cup of tea.
‘No tissues,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘No need to be sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m just being pathetic.’
‘You’re not.’ She patted my hand. ‘You’re not.’
‘It’s just… I thought maybe I was over the worst of it. I thought that the first term, leaving her there, I thought that would be the hardest part. But it wasn’t. Or maybe it was and I’ve forgotten just how hard it felt then.’
‘Christmas was always going to be a tough one,’ Malia said. ‘It’s such a nice holiday, everyone doing things together. I know it’s not the same, but I always feel a bit glum when the kids go back to school in January. It’s like all the fun stuff is over for another year.’ She paused, thinking. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. Iloveit when they go back to school. Usually by January the second they’re doing my head in and the house is a bombsite and I can’t wait to get back here.’ She patted my hand again. ‘But of course it’s different when they’re little. I’m only away from them for a few hours at a time.’
‘You’re right. It’s been so lovely having her back,’ I said, taking a sip of my scalding tea and almost enjoying the pain of it. ‘It’slike, I hadn’t realised that I was sad in November, and that early part of December. I didn’t feel sad, objectively. But then the day after we collected her and brought her back home for the holidays, I woke up and I was justhappy. Happier. And it took me a while to realise that’s all it was. Layla being home means I’ve pretty much been in a great mood the whole four weeks – give or take the usual Christmas frustrations. Literally having her back under my roof again is enough to make me content – nothing more complicated, nothing else required.’ I took another sip. ‘But now I’ve got to gear up for a return to that weird state of suspended animation again. Pretending to myself and everyone else that I’m okay for another however many weeks. Until the next little allocated block of happiness comes along.’ I rested my chin on my hand. ‘Sorry. It feels ridiculous to be pre-empting the sadness in this way. I should be enjoying the days I’ve still got with her.’
‘Sounds as though she’s not exactly chomping at the bit to go back either though, from what you’ve said? Maybe that doesn’t help?’ Malia knew about thecheese-thieving bitchesas Farah calls them.
‘That’s true,’ I said. ‘I was hoping she’d be enjoying student life a bit more by now, but it still doesn’t seem to have clicked for her. And I think that affects how I feel about it too. Like, if she was really enjoying herself, full of enthusiasm about what a great time she’s having, then maybe I’d be able to cope a little better with missing her when she’s gone. Maybe it would feel as though it was worth it, worth the trauma of being without her, to know that her life is at least improving as a result. But it doesn’t feel that way yet.’ I sighed. ‘Her first term has been tolerable but not much more than that. Joe keeps telling me, and telling her, that she just needs to give it a bit more time. Not to have such huge expectations.’
‘He’s probably right. Take it one step at a time. Whatever gets you through the day.’
I nodded and took another sip of my tea. ‘Speaking of getting through the day,’ I said. ‘Let’s have a look at what’s in the box. Do you want to do the honours?’
Malia picked up the scissors. ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said, slicing through the packing tape.
Later that afternoon I was sitting on the main desk chatting to David, having just about recovered from my earlier doldrums sufficiently to maintain normal conversation without bursting into tears. Nathan had been in to return a copy of Jilly Cooper’sRiders, his eyes wide – ‘I thought it was going to be mainly about horses,’ he said, looking slightly scandalised – and after he’d left I asked David how things had gone with Nathan staying at his place over Christmas. Whilst I’d still been going into work during the festive period, my shifts had been reduced and the joyful distraction of my daughter being home had made me slightly less committed to the lives of my colleagues and library customers. I felt a bit guilty about it, but I hadn’t really given a huge amount of thought to Nathan’s living circumstances since Layla’s return. Of course, now she was almost gone I was free to start projecting my maternal anxiety onto other people once more.
‘Yes. It was nice to have a bit of company actually,’ David said, as he updated the returns list for head office. ‘I spent Christmas day with my sister’s family. They’re a jolly enough bunch. Usual family dramas but the advantage is I can just duck out when I’ve had enough. And this way I had a bit of security knowing that Nathan was looking after the house and the dogs.’
‘And that worked fine, leaving Pilot with him?’
‘Yes, perfectly. And it was nice to have the company on Boxing Day too. I’ve been wondering about letting out the spare room anyway. I’ve had lodgers in the past.’
‘Paying lodgers though?’ I said. ‘Whereas presumably…’ I let the question hang in the air.
‘I didn’t ask Nathan for any money,’ he said. ‘He was doing me a favour. And it was only for a few nights while he sorted out a place at the shelter. Some of them are a bit funny about dogs you see.’ He folded the list and placed it on the stack of books in the returns bag. ‘I think he was a bit embarrassed that we knew his situation – but I put it to him in those terms, that he’d be house-sitting – like a job. And he agreed.’
‘Do you think you might do it again?’
‘Oh, absolutely. The offer’s there. We had a bit of a chat while he was staying with me and…’ David paused. I knew he was considering how much he could tell me and he wouldn’t want to be indiscreet. ‘He’s had a bit of a rough time, shall we say – went off the rails for a while. But he’s a good kid. Polite, clean and tidy, great with the dogs. I think he’s been made to feel he’s a burden in the past so he’s keen to prove he can stand on his own two feet, that he doesn’t need extra help.’
‘Presumably it’s pretty hard to get that first step back on the ladder once you’re homeless though,’ I said. ‘I mean, how do you get a job when you’ve got no fixed address?’
‘Exactly. Anyway…’ David patted his hands down on the reception counter to indicate that this conversation was drawing to a close. I suspect he felt that he’d said too much already. ‘Discussions are underway, Hattie,’ he said. ‘Discussions are underway.’
He was saved from elucidating further by the shrill electronic ringtone of the library phone. Now that I’ve been working here a little longer, I’ve realised that people other than my mother douse this landline but my first reaction on hearing it was,that’s probably for me.
‘City Library,’ I said, picking up the receiver and reverting instantly to my teenage shop assistant days. ‘Hattie Harper speaking. How can I help?’
‘You’ve always had such a lovely phone manner, darling.’ Itwasmy mother. Of course it was.
‘Mum. You really shouldn’t call me on the work phone,’ I said, mouthing an apology at David.
He shrugged and indicated the empty reception area. ‘It’s fine,’ he mouthed back.
