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‘Well send her my love, I’ve enjoyed reading these …’ Violet handed the folder back quickly, like if she held on to it for too long, she wouldn’t want to let it go.
‘Thank you for all your help, Mrs Newman,’ said Ish.
‘I don’t get many visitors, and well this has been wonderful.’ Violet folded the handkerchief back up gently into her pocket.
‘I’ll post you copies of the letters if you like?’
‘I would like that very much. Just when you think life doesn’t have any new surprises, something like this shows up.’
Chapter 23
Helen was plaiting the ends of her hair on the bus. Last night there had been some talk of her and Ish grabbing drinks after their adventures in Ealing, but Helen felt tired from the day. She’d wandered back to her apartment like a zombie, all the energy had drained out of her. The excitement ofmaybemeeting Vernon had plastered over the disappointment of not catching Brody before he got on his train, but now that feeling was soaking back through. She wasn’t in the mood for social drinks, even with someone as nice as Ish.
Plus, from now on she was trying to be more responsible. The kind of person who went to bed early, and sat at her desk (read: kitchen table) by 9 a.m. ready to work. She’d even stopped procrasta-cooking herself elaborate breakfasts and had a two-day hot streak on the sugar-free granola.
Life felt a bit deflated; there was an empty space in her mind where Brody used to be. But she would have to get used to that, and eventually (as in by the next month at the latest, and definitely before her next birthday), force herself back onto Connex. She wanted to meet someone. She would meet someone. Carl, Saf and Eddy probably weren’tthatbad.
Besides, she’d already woken up to a text this morning that was better than any one guy could send her:
Helen. Nanny G here reporting for duty! The doctor has finally said I’m getting better. He actually made an affirmative statement about it! Your mother still has me under house arrest but I can feel I’m on the mend. I’ve tried looking at your Instagram but there’s never anything new these days? I do hope you’re okay. I will look forward to speaking in a week or two once I’ve gotten my breath back!
Helen smiled thinking about how she was going to spring the young Vernon photo on Nanny G, like some 1940s Chippendale. She should wait to do it in person, Nanny G’s face would be priceless. She put her phone in her bag and went back to making braids in her hair. The rain had stopped, giving the streets a watery sheen and for once Helen had remembered both her umbrella and her sunglasses. It was going to be a good day.
Helen was on her way to meet Sophie and Frank.
There had been a zippy urgency in Sophie’s messages lately. She’d been using a lot more emojis than usual, and had booked a catch-up with Helen for the day after she got back from Tulum (despite the fact they would still be jet lagged and Frank would undoubtedly have a red nose.) Sophie had fudged some excuse about spare holiday days that didn’t sound quite right; and why bring Frank at all? He was lovely (of course) but in a kind of dependable, dutiful (okay boring!) way. The kind of guy who would sit on the ‘man seats’ whilst you went shopping, or go along to karaoke, and not be able to tell you one song that had been played.
They’d decided to meet in the city as a halfway point between Helen’s Hackney studio, and Sophie … no, Sophie and Frank’s two bed in Wapping. Helen paused for a second to consider the luxury of having a spare second bedroom as an office, or maybe not having to sleep in the same room as your dishwasher.
She pushed the doors open to the bar in the city: it was all marble-tiled floors, and golden metal rimmed tables. Her eyes immediately saw Frank with his arm around Sophie, and zoomed in on a huge diamond ring nestled on her finger. Of course. How Helen zeroed in on that detail so quickly she didn’t really know, it was becoming a reflex as people around her started gathering up rings like magpies. It gave her time to prepare the expression on her face, so she could tidy away the emotions on her face into a smile.
‘OMG Sophie you’reengaged! Congratulations!’ Sophie stood up and gave Helen a hug. She always felt tiny when she hugged her, Helen wished her bones were smaller sometimes. It would be nice to be petite. ‘Frank, good man! I knew you’d do it!’
‘Well, I couldn’t let this one walk away.’ Frank never gave a witty response to anything.
‘I wanted to tell you in person before posting anything on socials.’ Sophie squeezed her eyes slightly and spoke with an edge of tension like she was trying to deactivate a bomb.
Be nice Helen. Be positive. Why wasn’t she gushing about the colour scheme, the bridesmaids’ dresses? Why, in moments like these, did she miss the simpler days when Sophie was equally, perilously single, and they could fall asleep spooning after a night out in uncomfy high heels? Helen was big spoon of course.
Why was it so disappointing that Sophie no longer sent her play-by-play screenshots of messages with guys that she liked, that were soon to be proclaimed ‘neverminds.’ That when she did go out with Helen it was for an increasing amount of brunches, and apologies of ‘I should go home, prosecco really goes to my head.’ Where had the Sophie she knew gone? The one who had once got tipsy from eating all the fruit floating in a sangria jug? Where had the dancing to Britney songs in the noughties evaporated to? How could that be over a decade ago? How come Helen didn’t have her flat keys anymore?
‘It was so romantic, I just didn’t see it coming. I mean the trip in itself was such an amazing present, honestly Helen you have to go, you’d love it there,’ Sophie spoke so rapidly she was starting to sound out of breath, Helen leaned in and forced eye contact to look more attentive as her knees started an uncontrollable jiggle beneath the table.
‘Anyway, we had one of those villas with a pool that led up to our room, and the evening of my birthday Frank had scattered a path of rose petals from the pool to the beach. That’s where he got down on one knee! I honestly didn’t have a clue what was going on. No intuition at all! But anyway, he said he didn’t want another day to go by without me being his wife!’
Frank looked down into his orange juice. Helen looked down at her hands. Sophie looked down at her ring.
‘Honestly, this is the best news.’ Helen pressed her abdomen into the table like it would somehow keep all the pieces of her together. Breathe Helen. Breathe and smile. Fight that uncomfortable balloon of feelings that’s rising in your stomach. She gave herself a shake.
Sophie and Frank were back to holding hands expectantly; Helen needed to say something more to acknowledge the gravitas of this occasion. She needed to ask questions about whether they were going to have a summer wedding, had they thought about venues yet, did they want her to bake a cake … The words were lodged stubbornly in her throat though, and Helen worried that if she even started to speak the smile would fall off her face and be replaced with … envy? Was she really jealous of her best friend?
She should be happy. She was happy. This was true love! She looked at Frank, and her mood softened. Okay so it wasn’t quite like the fairy tales, but it was beautiful in its own way.
‘So does this mean I’m invited to the wedding?’ Helen smiled. ‘Or if you need someone to bake a cake …?’
‘Of course, you are!’ Sophie cast a relieved look at Frank. ‘It won’t be for a while. Lots to plan and organise, but we’re actually thinking of doing an engagement party soon.’
‘Oh that will be fun!’
