Page 84 of Still Me
I shook my head. “Oh, I don’t think so. I...”
And then my phone dinged. I looked down.
You should be at the airport by now! Hope this makes your journey home a bit more pleasant. Little gift from Agnes.
See you in the New Year, comrade! Michael x
I blinked. “That’s fine. Thank you.” I watched my oversized suitcase disappear down the conveyor belt and put my phone back into my bag.
—
The airport had been heaving, but in the business-class section of the plane everything was calm and peaceful, a little oasis of collective smugness removed from the holiday-related chaos outside. On board, I investigated my washbag of complimentary overnight goodies, pulled on my free socks, and tried not to talk too much to the man in the next seat, who eventually put his eye mask on and lay back. I had just one hiccup with the reclining seat when my shoe got caught in the foot rest but the steward was perfectly lovely and showed me how to get it out. I ate duck in a sherry glaze and lemon tart, and thanked all the staff who brought me things. I watched two films and realized I should really try to sleep for a bit. But it was hard when the whole experience was so delightful. It was exactly the kind of thing I would have written home about—except, I thought, with butterflies in my stomach, now I was going to get to tell everyone in person.
I was returning home a different Louisa Clark. That was what Sam had said, and I had decided to believe it. I was more confident, more professional, a long way from the sad, conflicted, physically broken person of six months ago. I thought about Sam’s face when I would surprise him, just as he had surprised me. He had sent me a copy of his rota for the next fortnight so that I could plan my visits to my parents, and I had calculated that I could drop my belongings at the flat, grab a few hours with my sister, then head over to his and be there to meet him for the end of his shift.
This time, I thought, we would get it right. We had a decent length of time to spend together. And this time we would settle into some kind of routine—a way of existing with no trauma or misunderstandings. The first three months were always going to be the hardest. I pulled my blanket over me and, already too far over the Atlantic for it to be of use, tried and failed to sleep, my stomach tight and my mind buzzing as I watched the tiny winking plane slide its way slowly across my pixelated screen.
—
I arrived at my flat shortly after lunchtime and let myself in, fumbling with my keys. Treena was at work, Thom was still at school, andLondon’s gray was punctured by glitter, Christmas lights, and the sound of shops playing Christmas carols I’d heard a million times before. I walked up the stairs of my old building, breathing in the familiar scent of cheap air freshener and London damp, then opened my front door, dropped my suitcase the few inches to the floor, and let out a breath.
Home. Or something like it.
I walked down the hall, shedding my jacket, and let myself into the living room. I had been a little afraid of returning here—remembering the months in which I had been sunk in depression, drinking too much, its empty, unloved rooms a self-inflicted rebuke for my failure to save the man who had given it to me. But this, I grasped immediately, was not the same flat: in three months it had been utterly transformed. The once-bare interior was now full of color, paintings by Thom pinned to every wall. There were embroidered cushions on the sofa and a new upholstered chair and curtains and a shelf bursting with DVDs. The kitchen was crammed with food packets and new crockery. A cereal bowl and Coco Pops on a rainbow placemat spoke of a hurriedly abandoned breakfast.
I opened the door to my spare room—now Thom’s—smiling at the football posters and cartoon-printed duvet. A new wardrobe was stuffed with his clothes. Then I walked through to my bedroom—now Treena’s—and found a rumpled quilt, a new bookshelf, and blinds. Still not much in the way of clothes, but she’d added a chair and a mirror, and the little dressing table was covered with the moisturizers, hairbrushes, and cosmetics that told me my sister might have changed beyond recognition even in the few short months I had been gone. The only thing that told me it was Treena’s room was the bedside reading:Tolley’s Capital AllowancesandAn Introduction to Payroll.
I knew I was overtired but I felt wrong-footed all the same. Was this how Sam had felt when he flew out and saw me the second time? Had I seemed so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time?
My eyes were gritty with exhaustion, my internal clock haywire. There were still three hours before they’d get home. I washed my face, took off my shoes, and lay down on the sofa with a sigh, the sound of London traffic slowly receding.
—
I woke to a sticky hand patting my cheek. I blinked, trying to bat it away, but there was a weight on my chest. It moved. A hand pattedme again. And then I opened my eyes and found myself staring into Thom’s.
“Auntie Lou! Auntie Lou!”
I groaned. “Hey, Thom.”
“What did you get me?”
“Let her at least open her eyes first.”
“You’re on my boob, Thom. Ow.”
Released, I pushed myself upright and blinked at my nephew, who was now bouncing up and down.
“What did you get me?”
My sister stooped and kissed my cheek, leaving one hand on my shoulder, which she squeezed. She smelled of expensive perfume and I pulled back slightly to see her better. She was wearing makeup. Proper makeup, subtly blended, rather than the one blue eyeliner she had received free with a magazine in 1994 and kept in a desk drawer to be used on every “dressing-up” occasion for the next ten years.
“You made it, then. Didn’t get the wrong plane and end up in Caracas. Me and Dad had a bit of a bet on.”
“Cheek.” I reached up and held her hand for a moment longer than either of us had expected. “Wow. You look pretty.”
She did. She’d had her hair trimmed to shoulder length and it hung in blow-dried waves rather than the usual scraped-back ponytail. That, the well-cut shirt, and the mascara actually made her look beautiful.
“Well. It’s work, really. You have to make the effort in the City.” She turned away as she said this, so I didn’t believe her.
