Page 6 of Knowing You
I head into our bedroom to fetch his present, but first I pick his damp towel off the floor and drape it over the radiator. I drag the long, wrapped box out from under the bed. Lenny took up golf a while back so I splashed out and bought him a top-of-the-range putter. I’m just about to leave when Lenny’s phone gives a low buzz on the bed. I pick it up to give it to him and the text notification on the front flashes at me.
It’s from Beatrix.
Without thinking, I read the first line.
2001
‘I’m going to miss you, Violet,’ Uncle Kevin says as we sit in the park near my new home. It’s a place with blackbirds and robins, with twitchy-tailed squirrels and a rainbow of flowers planted to spell the word Welcome. Our legs are stretched out. We’re both wearing odd socks. Uncle Kevin says life isn’t about making things match up.
We’ve just eaten ice cream and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Uncle Kevin rolls his eyes and points to my T-shirt. I look down and straightaway he catches my nose with one of his fingers. I giggle and pretend to look cross. There’s no stain on my top. He catches me out every time with this trick.
One of the swings becomes free and Uncle Kevin jerks his head. I follow him over and sit down. He goes behind and reminds me to hold on tight. Then he pushes hard. I squeal as the swing rises high in the air. It’s as if I’m flying and I pretend I’m sitting in Enid Blyton’s Wishing-Chair.
Eventually we end up back on the bench. We talk about the latest book I’m reading and share a water bottle. Most of my friends won’t because they worry about the spit. Uncle Kevin says I’m a practical person. He says that’s a gift, but I’m not sure what he means. Sharing water bottles doesn’t involve pretty paper or surprises.
The two of us fall silent for a moment.
‘What are you thinking?’ he says.
‘That I’m going to miss you too,’ I say and kick at the ground, almost taking the head off a beetle with a back so shiny that it looks like metal.
We’re sitting underneath an oak tree in Applegrove Park, six houses down from ours. It’s small with a slide and two swings. The fencing at the back is broken and behind it is the much bigger Applegrove Wood, which runs along the back of all the houses. It looks dark and exciting. I’m glad for the shade from the oak, my favourite tree. The curvy outline of its leaves looks as if someone has been doodling. My underarms are sticky and strands of hair stick to my face.
I’ve been dreading tomorrow for weeks. It’s two days after my birthday. I turned seven yesterday. Mum says seven is very grown up. So I guess that means I mustn’t make a fuss.
Chapter 4
I turn into a parking space outside the Sunflower retirement home. It looks more like a hotel, with the white pillars and regimented flower beds. It’s a Sunday afternoon and three weeks since Valentine’s Day. I drive forwards and then backwards a few times to get the angle of the car just right. My neighbour Kath is in the passenger seat and looks at her watch.
‘Ten to two. You know the others. They won’t be ready early. Let’s just stay here for a moment.’
About nine months ago, I started to give Kath lifts here to see her friend, Nora. She introduced me and we got to talking about books. Another resident joined in. That’s when I hit upon the idea of setting up a book club.
This is the first meeting I’ve felt up to attending since I found Beatrix’s text.
‘Perhaps we should wait in the reception area,’ I say brightly and shiver. ‘We’ll catch our death staying in the car.’ The door squeaks as I open it. A hand gently holds me back.
‘How are things going? You’ve been a treasure these last few weeks, helping me with that shoulder cream as well as dropping off shopping as usual, but you’ve not mentioned Lenny. I’ve not pushed, but—’
‘What is there to say?’
Spindly fingers poking out of a practical anorak squeeze my arm. ‘I’m just worried, sweetheart. Are you eating properly? You just picked at the cake I offered you yesterday.’
‘My appetite’s just been off.’
‘Has Lenny been in touch?’
I sigh and close the door. ‘I told him to leave. He seemed to think we could still be friends.’ A pain that’s all too familiar grips my chest as if fists are wringing out my lungs. It’s a pain I haven’t felt for a long, long time. Not since what happened to Uncle Kevin.
At first I used to struggle with my strong emotional connection with Lenny. I’ve always been an independent woman – Mum drilled the importance of that into me. I pay my own bills. I speak my mind at work. I’m following my passion. I’ve gladly embraced the single life, having learnt that when you rely on someone, fate can snatch them away in the most decisive manner.
But then I met Lenny, and me became we.
‘What did he say when you showed him the text? Talk to me, Violet. If my years of nursing taught me anything, it’s that holding things in never did anyone any good.’
I study her soft white hair cut into a neat bob. She wears no make-up apart from a slash of pink across the mouth that rarely utters an unkind word. Concern deepens the map of lines on her face that betray years of working nights. She’s wearing her usual fit-for-all-occasions slacks.
Normally Kath and I can’t chat enough. We became friends after I found her in the ground floor hallway. She’d had a nasty fall on getting back from her weekly shift at a conservation charity shop. To thank me for taking her to the surgery, she’d baked a cake and invited me up to her flat, which is above mine. As soon as I saw her shelves full of books and framed photos of pets and safari holidays, I knew we’d be friends. She loves animals but her nephew, Norm, won’t even let her have a goldfish in his flat. At the request of his mum, Kath’s sister, he begrudgingly rents it to her at a low rate because her pension is so small.
