Page 24 of The Truth About You and Me
I take the stairs two at a time, Jack following. A rectangle of soft warm light spills from her bedroom door onto the mauve carpet.
‘I’ll wait here,’ Jack says, staying in the hallway as I push open the door gently. Riz is sitting in the middle of the room, her walker on its side, boxes surrounding her, photo albums stacked up, jewellery and clothing in wayward piles. She’s dressed in an aquamarine sequined dress, long beads around her neck, bright red satin shoes on her feet with three-inch heels. A bottle of champagne is sitting in an ice bucket on her chest of drawers; her red lipstick is smudged around the corner of her mouth.
‘Riz.’ I rush to her side, crouching down.
‘Darling, I’m so sorry. You must think me a silly old fool to get myself into such a bother at this hour.’
‘Not at all.’
She glances around the room wistfully. ‘I thought I’d have a last hurrah before this all gets packed up and sent away to charity shops but’ – she casts a glance around the room then gestures to her ankle with a lift of her chin – ‘it seems my dancing days are over.’
‘Never say never, eh?’ I smile gently. ‘Can you move your foot?’ She tries to shift but winces, tears filling her blue eyes.
‘Blast.’
‘Riz, I have a friend with me: Jack. Do you mind if he comes in?’
‘Oh, my dear. You were on a date.’
‘No. Well, not exactly.’
‘Darling girl, if your face lights up at the mere mention of his name then yes. I’m quite certain you were on a date.’ She leans forward a touch as I shift back as subtly as I can. ‘Is he handsome?’
‘Jack?’ I call. Riz shifts her neck to see him over my shoulder. Jack steps into the room, all six foot something of him filling the doorway.
‘Well, well.’ She takes him in, raises her eyebrows at me in appreciation.
‘Hi,’ he says. He doesn’t look around the room, just smiles at Riz as if he’s meeting her over lunch in a restaurant, not sequined and lipstick-smeared. ‘I’m Jack.’
‘Of course you are. Come on in, Jack. I’m afraid it’s been a while since a handsome man has been in my bedroom and it appears that you find me in quite the state of disarray.’
‘I think it’s sprained,’ I say, looking up. Jack smiles at Riz, but I can see his mind is working. He walks to the ice bucket, takes hold of a discarded cloth and wraps the ice inside. He goes to pass it to me but must see the resistance registering on my face. Instead, he pauses and crouches on the other side of her.
‘May I?’ he asks, gesturing to her ankle.
‘Be my guest.’ She flinches as he applies the ice.
‘Sorry,’ he replies.
‘What for? You didn’t waltz yourself onto the floor.’
‘I’m more of a tango dancer.’ He smiles, catches my eye with a grin, shifting the ice pack so it can lean against her without him applying pressure.
‘I can imagine.’ She raises a furiously plucked eyebrow at me suggestively. She shifts. ‘Maggie, be a darling and pass me my cigarettes, will you?’ I scan the room, my eyes landing on a packet with a diamanté-encased lighter sitting on top. I place them next to her. Riz quickly finds one and clamps it between her teeth. Not missing a beat, Jack ignites the lighter, the flame flickering as Riz inhales deeply, blowing out a long plume of purple-grey haze.
‘So, Jack, tell me about yourself.’
‘Oh, there’s not much to tell.’ I hold on to my knowledge, surveying the room. He sits down on the floor next to her, back against the wall, legs crossed over at the ankles, head tilted towards Riz. ‘I’d much rather hear about you. Maggie tells me you’re a photographer?’
I love how he says it in present tense. It strikes me that I’ve not seen Jack interact with anyone other than a brief conversation with Romy. It’s strange seeing this confidence in him, this easy charm and charisma. Gone is the vulnerability that he revealed to me last week. Riz laughs; Jack compliments her easily.Thisis the man who was engaged. The man with ambition and drive who wins awards and owns a successful business. There isn’t a hint of the pain and the void behind those eyes. I begin picking up items of clothing as the two talk. Jack remains seated on the floor beside her, his focus on Riz as she tells him she once worked for a French magazine that I’ve never heard of but which Jack is familiar with.
‘There’s a whole box of them…’ She frowns looking at the chaos around her. I take in the boxes. The house is filled with the evidence of a life well lived. I see the leaflet about the retirement home, and recognise the determination in her. She’s planning on doing all of this herself.
‘Are you moving house, Riz?’ I ask tentatively. She takes a long pull on her cigarette, then nods, eyes on me then Jack.
‘My final adventure. A retirement home they call it, but it’s where I’m going to be putting myself out to pasture. I’ve lived a full life, known the love of a good man. And it’s time. I’m fed up of being stuck in here on my own. I have no family and all of my friends have kicked the bucket or lost their marbles.’ She inhales again and waves around the room on an exhalation. ‘Most of this can go.’
Jack glances up at me. An unspoken conversation: she can’t pack all this away by herself. ‘I need company, you see.’ She turns her attention back to Jack. ‘Laughter!’ Her focus is back on me. ‘And not before long, I dare say, a bedpan. And I shall be taking myself under my own steam. This way, it’s my choice. I’m not going to be put in some godforsaken institution without decent care. The place I’ve chosen is perfect. Music on a Saturday night and well… there’s bingo, which I can’t abide… all those silly phrases set my dentures on edge, but the daily menu is good, made by a proper chef and I get to take my own things for my room.’ Her eyes roam the discarded items, the photos still on the walls. ‘It’s how I want to spend my final days, just as I have lived. My choices guided by my own decisions.’
