Page 33 of Lost Luggage
Leroy stared at Anushka before lifting his cup to his lips, even though Dolly knew he’d finished his coffee.
Anushka drew a heart on the table with her finger and talked about her great-uncle, her granny’s brother; he’d always been shy but, in his twenties, pretended to be louder and went to parties the whole time. Her granny said that make-believe was exhausting and always ended badly. It got you in the end and got her great-uncle; he became really ill and had to go to AA to get better.
‘AA?’ asked Flo.
‘Dunno what it is, Granny didn’t explain.’ She looked at Leroy. ‘AA sounds like a good place but you’d miss Dolly and Flo, wouldn’t you, and the flight there could be expensive?’
‘Talking of travel,’ said Dolly speedily, ‘has Flo talked to you about the notebook I found in a piece of lost luggage, Anushka, with the challenges in?’
‘Yes! I love swimming.’
‘The April challenge is to take part in a bake-off.’ Dolly’s stomach clenched at the thought. ‘That’s why I made apple crumble today, to practise. I want you three to act as judges.’
‘Stop! A bake-off? You didn’t tell me that!’ Flo jumped up and floss-danced, whooping loudly.
‘I’ve been waiting for the right moment,’ said Dolly, and put her hands over her ears.
Anushka giggled and got up to join her friend. Dolly revelled in every laugh and move, knowing such lack of guile might disappear at high school next year. Leroy put down his coffee cup and his chair scraped back. Suddenly his favourite TV show was on. The girls sat down and talked about howThe Great British Bake Offwas one of their favourites, whilst Dolly took Leroy’s arm and gave it a squeeze. He kissed her on the head and waved goodbye to the girls.
‘Let me judge the crumble first,’ said Flo. ‘It had a soggy bottom.’
‘It’s meant to, silly,’ whispered Anushka.
The girls rated the flavours and textures of the dessert, whilst Leroy stopped outside, in front of her garden, chatting to a dog walker. His middle bulged slightly over his tight trousers. He’d had his hair shaved closely at the sides – Dolly quite liked that. But it wasn’t Leroy; he kept running his fingers across the tops of his ears, as if he missed the curls. When Fred first left, it had made Dolly question everything about herself. Was she not funny enough? Too talkative? Too curvy? But her mother had unwittingly taught her a lesson. How changing yourself to keep a partner was a pointless battle. Each time a man left, her mum would go on a diet, try a new perm, scrape together enough money for a new dress, but the ex never came back and the weight would go back on, and more than before. So, with Greta’s help, Dolly accepted Fred wasn’t for her.
The doorbell rang and Flo and Dolly saw Anushka to the door. Flo packed up her things.
‘I’m not in the mood for the park today, but Mum and Dad insisted. They’re obsessed with fresh air being the answer to everything – as long as it hasn’t got insects in it.’
Dolly pulled her close for a hug and then gently pushed her away and met her gaze. ‘Show them the video, sweetheart. Promise me that.’
Back in the kitchen, after Flo had left, Dolly dried the dishes. As she finished, the doorbell rang again. Her eyes dropped to Flo’s pencil case on the kitchen table. Holding it in one hand, she opened the front door.
‘You’ll forget your head one of these days, sweetheart. Here—’
The case dropped on to the floor and pencils rolled across the carpet as Dolly stared at Fred.
24
Dolly picked up the pencils, dropping a couple in the process; she took her time before standing upright. As their eyes met again, time rolled back, taking with it his hearing aids, the wrinkles, the bushier eyebrows, until she was looking at the Fred she fell in love with – a Fred with thick, styled hair and designer labels, cigarette hanging sexily out of the side of his mouth. He used to be such a sharp dresser. A cocky bugger, too, according to Greta.
Fred was here. On her doorstep. Fate had brought them together in a different millennium. She wanted to run away and bury her head in a pillow, as the crushing pain his disappearance had caused ripped through her once more, along with precious romantic details she’d never dared think about for fear of falling into a spiral of sadness. Like the chocolate he’d buy her when she got her monthlies. How he’d always prepare her favourite Salt ’n’ Shake crisps.
Now he was shaking his head. ‘So it’s true. We’ve been living close all these decades.’
‘We’re hardly neighbours and I’ve never had any reason to visit Lymhall. Greta always said the people there must be daft to spend that much on property.’ She held on to the door. ‘What exactly do you want?’
‘I wouldn’t say no to a hot drink.’
‘You’ve got a nerve,’ she snapped, annoyed that somehow she’d opened the door further.
‘No pluck, no luck and… I’d be the luckiest lad in Manchester if you let me in to talk.’
‘Lad? Hardly. Almost half a century has passed since we last met – or have you forgotten?’ She’d been twenty-five in 1975, him three years older.
‘I forget a lot these days… where I’ve put my glasses, what Phoebs said to me five minutes ago. But you? I’ve not forgotten one detail of our life together.’ His voice was quiet. ‘Looking good, Dolly.’
For the briefest of moments she felt as if she were in her twenties again.
