Eleanor Oliphant Is Completely - Gail Honeyman Page 0,129

while.

“Are you OK?” he said.

I nodded.

“I’m going to keep seeing the counselor. It helps.”

He looked at me carefully. “How do you feel?” he said.

“Not you as well.” I sighed, and then I smiled so that he would know that I was joking. “I’m fine. I mean, yes, obviously, I’ve got a lot of things to work through, very serious things. Dr. Temple and I are going to keep talking about all of it—Marianne’s death, how Mummy died too and why I pretended for all those years that she was still there, still talking to me . . . it’s going to take time and it’s not going to be easy,” I said. I felt very calm. “Essentially, though, in all the ways that matter . . . I’m fine now. Fine,” I repeated, stressing the word because, at last, it was true.

A woman jogged past, running after a Chihuahua, shouting its name in an increasingly anxious tone.

“Marianne loved dogs,” I said. “Every time we saw one, she’d point and laugh, then try to hug it.”

Raymond cleared his throat. More coffees came, and we drank slowly.

“Will you be OK?” Raymond said. He looked angry with himself. “Sorry. Stupid question. I just wish I’d known sooner,” he said. “I wish I could have helped more.” He glared at the wall, looking as though he was trying not to cry. “No one should have to go through what you’ve been through,” he said finally, furious. “You lost your little sister, even though you tried your best to save her, and you were only a child yourself. That you could come through that, all of it, and then spend all those years trying to deal with it on your own, it’s—”

I interrupted him. “When you read about ‘monsters’,” I said, “household names . . . you forget they had families. They don’t just spring from nowhere. You never think about the people that are left behind to deal with the aftermath of it all.”

He nodded slowly.

“I’ve requested access to my files from Social Services now. I’ve had cause to review my opinion of the Freedom of Information Act, Raymond, and let me tell you, it’s actually a splendid piece of legislation. When it arrives, I’m going to sit down and read it cover to cover—the Bumper Book of Eleanor. I need to know everything—all the little details. That’s going to help me. Or depress me. Or both.”

I smiled, to show him I wasn’t worried, and to make sure that he wasn’t worried either.

“It’s more than that though, isn’t it?” he said. “All those lost years, wasted years. Terrible things happened to you. You needed help back then and you didn’t get it. You’ve got a right to it now, Eleanor—” He shook his head, unable to find the words.

“In the end, what matters is this: I survived.” I gave him a very small smile. “I survived, Raymond!” I said, knowing that I was both lucky and unlucky, and grateful for it.

When it was time to leave, I noticed and appreciated Raymond’s effort to move the conversation toward something else, something normal.

“What have you got planned for the rest of the week, then?” he said.

I counted things off on my fingers. “I’ve got to take Glen to the vet for her vaccinations,” I said, “and I’ve got a Christmas night out at the safari park to organize. Their website says that they’re closed for winter, but I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade them.”

We went outside and stood by the doorway for a moment, enjoying the sunshine. He rubbed his face, then looked over my shoulder toward the trees. He cleared his throat again. One of the many perils of being a smoker.

“Eleanor, did you get my e-mail about that concert? I was just wondering whether—”

“Yes,” I said, smiling. He nodded, looked closely at me and then slowly smiled back. The moment hung in time like a drop of honey from a spoon, heavy, golden. We stood aside to let a woman in a wheelchair and her friend go inside. Raymond’s lunch break was almost up. I had the rest of the day to spend however I wanted.

“Bye then, Raymond,” I said. He pulled me in for a hug and held me for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I felt the warm bulk of him, soft but strong. When we broke apart, I kissed his cheek, his bristles all soft and ticklish.

“See you soon, Eleanor Oliphant,” he said.

I picked up my shopper, fastened my jerkin and turned toward home.