need to fix things but I don’t seem to know how. And I couldn’t find the right words today. What should I say? How do I make things right again? Why aren’t you here to advise? You would know precisely what I should do.
I miss her, my darling, and of course I miss you too.
Teddy x
Chapter 25
Love is like a good pair of shoes – you search for the prettiest but the ones you need are the most comfortable
CELIA, 83
The morning had been a bit of a boost. As I headed home on the bus I couldn’t help replay the scenes: more women had appeared, one of the polo-shirts had started handing round refreshments, the crowd had been joined by some of the male members of the club and the atmosphere had felt like a mini carnival. With a renewed gush Margaret had told me that she had secured a meeting with the general manager of the club. ‘It’s such a coup,’ she cried, squeezing me before leaving to tell Paula the news.
Arjun had then sidled over to persuade me to give up the loudhailer. ‘I’ve come up with a really good chant. Please, Lottie.’ He held out his hand and I paused, secretly not wanting to relinquish the power. He looked so earnest, though, with his drooping placard and his flushed cheeks that I handed it over with a nod.
He took it and switched it on but then the crowd turned, assuming he was the enemy, there to shut them down, and began pelting him with balled-up socks/headbands until he began his new chant: ‘I’M TEED OFF WITH HOW WE TREAT OUR WOMEN’ and they all delightedly started screaming along with him.
‘WE’RE TEED OFF . . . ’
Ascending the stairs to the flat I felt my bright and breezy mood plummet. Opening the door into the stale, semi-dark space it hit rock bottom. I had envisaged telling Luke all about it, seeing his face crinkle as I described the scene. As I stared round at the cluttered flat I realised the silence would stay until he returned, if he ever returned. I didn’t even move from the corridor but slid down the closed door, feeling drained and hopeless. I deserved this scene. I had driven him away. In the wall mirror opposite I took in my appearance: hair scraped back, no make-up, filthy clothes. Who would return to someone who couldn’t even look after herself?
Resting my head against the wood I started as the buzzer went. Frowning, I dragged myself to my feet, finger lingering over the intercom. An irrational thought that it might be Luke made me press down. Maybe he’d lost his key? Maybe he thought this was more formal?
‘Hello?’ I couldn’t keep the hope I felt out of that one word.
‘Lottie, is that you?’ A female voice, I realised with a flash of disappointment. I pressed the buzzer. ‘It is, come up.’
Margaret appeared in the bottom of the stairwell and I watched her, still dressed in her fluorescent outfit, move carefully up the stairs, one hand on the banister.
‘Margaret, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating?’ I tried to inject my voice with enthusiasm but my words sounded hollow, even to me.
‘Hold on, let me catch my breath,’ she said, three-quarters of the way up.
I waited as Margaret moved past me into the flat, her eyes scanning the debris. I felt hot shame creep up my neck and into my face.
‘I, um, sorry, I’ve been working, it’s not very . . . ’ I tailed away. This wasn’t exactly the flat of someone over-working, it was the flat of someone who had lost the will to function in a basic way. I appeared to have reached Amateur Hoarder status in a single week. There could be another species living under those pizza boxes – I couldn’t be sure and the smell wasn’t pretty.
There wasn’t really a clean space to offer her and I fussed in the kitchen, hoping she was one of those people who didn’t take milk in her tea because I was fairly sure the milk was now a toxic substance.
‘Why don’t we head out, love?’ Margaret said, a gentle hand on my forearm.
I bit my lip, knowing she was right but feeling embarrassed all the same.
We made a strange pair as we walked past various shoppers in the weak afternoon sunshine. I steered us to a small café on the corner of the street.