Page 34 of Lost Luggage
‘Whereas you look as if your exciting new life, away from Manchester, didn’t bring the treasures you’d hoped for. What happened? Did you limp back with your tail between your legs?’ It was as if his presence, after all these years, wrapped a tight band around her chest that constricted with every word they exchanged. ‘What is there to discuss? It’s history. Said and done.’
‘I wanted to… I need to… fill in any gaps.’
‘This is about easing your conscience?’ Her voice wavered. ‘Picture me, turning up to your empty flat. At first I imagined all horrors… that you’d lost the job you loved, that you had a terminal illness or had suffered, I don’t know, a psychotic episode. But I’d already decided, in my head, that I’d stand by you, whatever it was.’ She gave a hollow laugh. ‘Then the landlord told me the truth – an opportunity you couldn’t refuse had come your way.’
Fred lowered his gaze. ‘Let’s not discuss this out here. If I could come in and—’
‘You think I care that the world hears how you left me wondering what was wrong with me? Was that opportunity a new job offering, a more exciting life, or another woman who was prettier, more successful?’ Greta wouldn’t approve of airing her distress in the street. The door swayed as she longed to close it in his face. Trouble was, curiosity infused her body like a powerful drug and she gave in. Dolly hung up his unremarkable parka – it would have never earned a place in his old wardrobe. She showed him into the lounge and, hands unsteady, Dolly filled the kettle. She moved the turquoise flask and reached for a tin. But he didn’t deserve biscuits.Come on, Dolly, get it together, she told herself. When she entered the lounge, he was staring at the one dependable man in her life.
‘That’s Maurice – and his friend, Fanny.’ She passed Fred his drink, not knowing what else to say. She didn’t offer him sugar; in her experience a person’s tea habits never changed, regardless of what life threw their way. Greta had drunk hers very milky with two sugars when she was eighteen and eighty-six, Dolly’s had always been stronger. Tea was a constant in a world you couldn’t rely on to stay the same.
‘Maurice and Fanny,’ he mumbled. ‘The Bee Gees.’
They’d both loved ‘Nights on Broadway’, ‘Massachusetts’, all of that band’s early disco top hits. WhenSaturday Night Fevercame out at the end of the seventies, three years after Fred had disappeared, it had brought back all the memories of the afternoons the two of them had spent listening to LPs, slow dancing, kissing, both proud that the Bee Gees used to live down the road, in Chorlton. Dolly sat down in the armchair and pushed her back right into it.
‘How have you been?’ he asked, in that familiar gravelly voice.
‘Fred… Will… whatever you go by now… I didn’t invite you in for a great catch-up. You wanted to explain why you ditched me. You’ve got as long as it takes for us to finish our drinks.’
He flinched as she picked up hers and took a large mouthful, not caring that the liquid scalded her tongue. Courting had been a happy whirl of new experiences for Dolly; she’d never eaten out in the Chinese quarter before dating him, nor drunk a Harvey Wallbanger. She went to her first concert with Fred too, he bought tickets to see 10cc at the Hardrock nightclub in Stretford. She’d insist on paying for their cinema trips whenever she could afford them. He’d especially lovedThe Stingwith Paul Newman. Fred worked hard as a salesman, in cameras when she first met him, then he moved to a new company that was at the forefront of the digital industry. A few months before they split up he’d been part of launching the first video game console. She’d been so excited playing Pong, the table-tennis game that by today’s gaming standards was so simple. Greta could never understand the appeal, saying the crossword taxed her brain more. Fred enjoyed spending his commission, buying Dolly flamboyant bunches of peonies and boxes of Milk Tray chocolates, whereas she’d bake him his favourite pineapple upside-down cake.
Dolly put down her cup quickly; it clattered on the saucer. She’d blocked out these memories for so long, considering them a luxury to dwell on. In fact they were the opposite, as they left her feeling depleted. She stared stonily at him.
‘Look, all this… it’s been a shock for me too,’ he muttered.
‘How? It was your choice to scarper.’
‘I wasn’t given a choice.’
‘What do you mean?’
He got up. ‘After seeing you in the pub, I wasn’t going to visit… and then Phoebs mentioned Greta had died.’
‘That was over a year ago. I’m stronger now, so don’t worry on my account,’ she said, and folded her arms.
‘No, what I mean is…’ Fred walked up and down. His pace didn’t betray his age; he always had been fit. It was tennis back in the day; he’d belonged to a fancy club. They had been to a winter ball there once. Fred had chatted with Mr Hackshaw, her boss; he’d sounded so confident, talking to him about his sales career and where he saw digital technology going. Occasionally, over the years, looking at her digital bedside clock had made her think of Fred, then the timely ring of the alarm would remind her that it didn’t pay to look back at what might have been.
Fred stood still. ‘I… needed time to sort myself out, before I could get back in touch. However that took a while and by then a few years had passed. From time to time I once again considered tracking you down and telling you the truth. But I couldn’t do that, not with the possibility that Greta was still around. I knew you two were close.’
‘You aren’t making sense.’
‘The afternoon after we got engaged’ – his voice faltered – ‘Greta visited my flat.’
No she didn’t. Her sister had gone to a church meeting, the one that ran late and put her in a bad mood. Could Fred be senile? Was that why Phoebe had spent last year as a hermit – as well as having therapy, had she been looking out for her granddad?
‘Greta warned me off. It’s because of her I left. You see—’
‘What a load of rubbish. In any case, Greta would have told me. We respected each other’s privacy but shared everything important.’ How dare he imply her principled sister had gone behind Dolly’s back? ‘There’s no way she’d have kept something like that secret. Why on earth would she interfere? We both knew Greta wanted me to date a man in a more regular job’ – Fred didn’t work nine to five and his job took him away some weekends – ‘but she always said it was up to me who I dated, that it was none of her business.’
Fred looked every second of his age. ‘Dolly, listen, please, just for a minute. Greta said that if I didn’t call off the engagement and leave, she’d—’
‘Whoa.’ Dolly held up her hand. ‘You can stop that right there, Wilfred Taylor. Greta had a sharp tongue, but a good heart. She’dneverthreaten anyone. And threaten you of all people, when she knew we were planning a future together? It’s pretty low that after finding out my sister is dead, you decide it’s the perfect opportunity to blame her for the fact you couldn’t commit, didn’t even deem me worthy of an explanation or a goodbye. After you left Greta said she’d always thought you a chancer, and your visit today confirms her theory.’ Dolly jumped up. ‘I won’t have my sister’s name tarnished, especially when she’s not here to defend herself.’ She marched into the hallway and grabbed his parka off the hook, pushing it against his chest. She pulled open the front door. ‘Don’t contact me again.’
‘She did visit, Dolly. I’m sorry. It’s true. She came straight over from a church meeting because she’d found out that—’
With great satisfaction, Dolly got to slam that front door.
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