‘I’ll sleep in my underwear. Decide what I’m going to do tomorrow.’
She comes towards me and puts her arms around me, tight, and I’m not expecting it, so it takes my breath.
‘Thank you, Mabel,’ she says.
And then she pulls away and goes into the spare room, leaving me standing on the landing, still warm from the heat of her body.
29
A few days later, Julie’s on my sofa, scrolling on her telephone. ‘Why did she have to marry someone called Black?’ she asks. ‘There are hundreds of Dorothy Blacks. What did you say her husband was called?’
‘Thomas,’ I say.
She doesn’t even bother to check. We both know there’ll be pages and pages of results for Thomas Black.
‘And their children?’
I think back to the conversation I had with Cathy. For a minute, I think I might need to get my spiral notebook, but then I remember.
‘John and William.’
It’s only then that I realise. William. Bill. Did she name her son after her first love? And if she did, did her husband know? I feel tears prick at my eyes at the thought of Bill living on like that, in a way. If it was a tribute, it was a beautiful one.
‘What is it?’ Julie asks.
‘Nothing. I was just… remembering something.’
I make up a couple of jobs for Julie to do, and when she’s upstairs I settle in my armchair and try to picture Dot at the heart of a family. Perhaps cooking while her two boys played outside, or else helping them with their homework, or watching her husband teach one of them to kick a ball. Can I see it? I can, I think. The more I try, the more I can.
I wonder what Arthur and I were doing the day she was walking down the aisle. Whether it was a day that we went for a walk or out for lunch, or a day spent pottering in the garden. A small, silly part of me feels like I should have known. That wherever I was and whatever I was doing when she was saying ‘I do’， I should have felt it. But that’s ridiculous, and I won’t give the thought space to grow.
‘Do you think we should give up?’ I ask.
Julie looks over at me as if I’ve suggested something utterly ludicrous, like learning to water ski or jumping out of an aeroplane. ‘Give up? No, Mabel. We’re not giving up.’
‘But you said there were hundreds of Dorothy Blacks.’
‘Yes, I did. And that means it’s not going to be easy, but it doesn’t mean we give up. A lot of things aren’t easy, Mabel. You’re surely old enough to know that.’
I am. In my experience, very little is easy. But some days, I think about what it might be like if I’d never started this. If I just concentrated on these new friendships that have sprung up, the new lease of life these women have given me, instead of seeking out the woman who brought me to life back then. Things change, over the years, and it’s possible that Dot isn’t the woman I knew, now. Can’t I just delight in these women I have around me, right now? Why isn’t that enough?
You know why, I tell myself.
A door opens upstairs and Julie puts a hand on her heart. ‘Is someone here?’
‘Yes, Erin’s here.’
‘Oh. Does she… live here now?’
I don’t know how to answer that. Erin appears, in fleecy checked pyjamas, and waves good morning to us both before going to the kitchen to make tea.
‘She’s staying here,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure how long for.’
‘And do her family know where she is?’
‘They do,’ Erin says, poking her head around the door. ‘Can I get either of you a cup of tea or coffee?’
‘Tea please,’ I say. ‘And Julie will have one too. She’s ready for a break.’
‘I’ve only been here twenty minutes!’
‘Still.’
Julie does this kind of whisper talking to me in the front room while Erin makes the drinks.
‘I just want to be sure she’s not taking advantage of you, that’s all.’
‘She isn’t,’ I say. I don’t raise my voice but I’m firm, all the same.
‘I mean, you haven’t known her for very long.’
‘I haven’t known you for very long either.’
She doesn’t know what to say to that, and then Erin appears again with the drinks.
‘Look,’ she says, putting one mug down on the windowsill for me and the other on the coffee table for Julie. She’s got the strength just right, like she always does. ‘I know you’re concerned about Mabel, that you’re being a good friend to her. I haven’t moved in. I just needed to be away from my parents for a while and Mabel was kind enough to offer me a room. I won’t be staying much longer.’
Hearing it is like a punch. It’s only been a few days but I’ve got so used to having someone in the house again. She’s a late riser, so we don’t have breakfast together, but she often brings me a cup of tea and has a chat. She tells me about what she’s been doing at school, about her plans for university. Sometimes she draws me, just sitting in my armchair watching the world outside. And even when she’s up in her room, listening to music or messing about on her telephone, it’s just reassuring to know there’s someone here. I haven’t admitted it to myself, but I’ve been hoping she’ll stay.
‘You’re planning to go home?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice level.
‘I’ve got to, haven’t I?’ she asks.
No, I think. You don’t have to live with those people who don’t love you for who you are. You can stay here, with me, and I will. But I can’t say that out loud. Like Julie says, I haven’t known her very long.
‘How have they reacted to your leaving?’ Julie asks.
Erin shrugs. ‘I don’t think they get it. They think I’m hormonal and overly dramatic. They never look at themselves and wonder whether they’re doing anything wrong.’
‘That’s people for you,’ I say, and Julie and Erin both turn to me. ‘I mean, people are so bad at recognising flaws in themselves, in general, aren’t they?’
‘Maybe so,’ Erin says.
We sit quietly for a minute.
‘Any big plans for New Year’s Eve?’ Julie asks.
I wait for Erin to respond. I’ve been wanting to ask her this, because I’d quite like to spend the evening with her, and I wanted to give her some money and ask her to get a few fireworks for us. I’ve always liked the drama of them, the spectacle, but Olly was terrified, so it’s been a few years since I saw any up close. But I’m sure she’ll have other plans.
‘I think a few of us from school are going to the Carpenters,’ Erin says. She doesn’t sound very enthused.
‘What about you?’ I ask her. ‘Plans with Martin?’
She pulls a face. ‘He’s seeing his mate, Jamie. Says it’s been booked in for months.’
Does she believe this? Is there a part of her that thinks maybe he’s seeing that woman, that Estelle, and this whole Jamie story is just a cover up? I don’t want to suggest it, because if she trusts him, that’s fair enough.
‘So you’ll be on your own?’ I ask.
‘Oh, yes, but it’s never been a big favourite of mine, New Year. I’ll probably be tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa by ten thirty.’