Out Late with Friends and Regrets (43 page)

“That’s
brilliant
, Mum, you’d be great! But do you think you’d be able to get in?”

“What you mean is, at my age?”

“Well, I didn’t- I mean, I know you could do it, Mum, but I’ve never actually seen anyone teaching aerobics and stuff at your -
 
stage.”

“Age.”

“Yeah, I guess.
 
Age.”

“Tell you what, darling, there’s an instructor at Harfordleisure who’s fifty if she’s a day.”

“Mmm.
 
Of course, she may have been doing it for thirty years.
 
Proved herself, sort of thing.”

“Of course.”

Anna’s baby-smooth brow furrowed slightly as she slabbed her third roll in low-fat butter substitute and high-fat chocolate spread.

“Well, good luck with it, Mum,” she said;
 
“
You’ll certainly need it
” remained unspoken.

“So what would you like to do today?” Fin asked.
 
“There’s a street of really funky little boutiques just off the hill down to the river, nothing mass-produced.
 
Quite cheap, too, always crawling with students.
 
Fancy some shopping?”

The tilt of Anna’s head as she smiled was so like Paul in his young, sweetheart days, that it gave Fin a start.

“Bit boracic, unfortunately, Mum, but I just
lurve
window shopping.
 
Yes, let’s do that.”

In fact it was a good day.
 
Fin treated Anna to a red dress she would rather not see her in, and a bag which was big, bold and cheap.
 
Anna picked out a DVD to take back for Auntie Janet which caused Fin to make a mental note never to buy lavender toiletries or mauve scarves as Christmas presents for her sister-in-law, ever again.
 
They enjoyed an authentic, crispy pizza at the bistro owned by June’s cousin, and in the afternoon visited a costume exhibition at the museum.
 
There had been a text from Ellie to ask how things were going, which Fin felt she had to ignore for the moment., although she would have to admit that today had been successful, all considered.

But there underneath, last night’s two words lurked like a catfish, feeding on the morsels of the day.

Fin wondered whether Anna would bring up the subject over the risotto she planned to cook for dinner.
 
It was an intimate thing, someone cooking for you, so she just might.
 
If not, what then? Would it never be mentioned again? If someone special came into her life, to the extent that she wanted to live with her? At the moment it wasn’t something she yearned for, but it could happen.

The mechanics of cooking, and the scent of olive oil and spices numbed the worry temporarily.

The phone rang.

“Hi, Fiona, how is everything? Did Anna arrive OK yesterday?”

It was Rosemary.

“Oh hi, Rosie! Lovely to hear from you. But I’m so sorry, this is actually a bad time – I’ve got a risotto coming up to a crucial stage –”

“Wow, great, I can almost smell it. No problem. I guess I was just dying to hear how it went. Must be good news, if you’ve got over your phobia of the kitchen, Fee! Ring me next week, OK?”

“Yes, of course I will. But I’m afraid I have to-”

“Sorry, just go. Love to Anna. ‘Bye.”

“Who was that?” asked Anna.

“My friend Rosemary, from school. Do you remember me telling you I got back in touch, after all these years?” replied Fin, dishing up the food.

“Oh yeah, course. Hey, this is
so
yum,” said Anna, taking her first bite, “you never cooked much before, did you?”

“Played it safe.”

“Hm. You’ve come a long way, Mum.”

“Yes.
 
And I wouldn’t be here now, but for Rosie.”

Perfect opening.
 
Anna would hear it whether she liked it or not.
 
The day had gone well, but the unspoken had tweaked the fun, pulled down the corner of every smile.
 
It should have been free of taint.
 
So she told Anna, simply and truthfully, about Rosemary’s challenge and the shock of it, followed by the realisation that everything made sense at last.
 
She described the feeling of release.
   

“Oh, Mum, I’m sorry,” said Anna, putting a hand unexpectedly over her mother’s.

Fin realised that she might cry, if she wasn’t careful. It was time to leave the subject.

“I’m afraid the pudding’s not home-made,” she said, standing as she cleared the plates.

“I’ll cope, I guess,” said Anna.

The letter box clattered as she walked towards the kitchen.
 
The local free paper, perhaps. Or flyers for takeaway restaurants.
 
But something told her as she went back through the house and into the hall, that the stalker had found her.

The nausea that rolled around Fin’s head and stomach as she turned the paper over, to read “Mine” on the reverse, momentarily robbed her of the power to think sensibly.
 
Only for a moment; she opened the door and looked both ways along Watson Street.
 

A hooded figure was hurrying away, out of the orange puddle of light cast by a street lamp, towards the corner, head down.
 
She could possibly catch up if she ran down the street right now, but she did not move.
 
Her legs wobbled as she closed the door gently.
 
She was wearing flip-flops, which would have made it a futile pursuit anyway.
 
And she didn’t want to tell Anna, or interrupt the possible rapprochement which might –
might
– be happening.
 
The stalker was a nuisance thing rather than a physical threat after all; it wasn’t as if somebody had got into the house.
 

Into the house... That hitherto unconsidered thought caused a cold crawl of real fear over her skin, and she made a mental note to make the fitting of a burglar alarm a priority, and to reinforce her domestic defences.

“What’s up, Mum?” asked Anna, appearing in the hall doorway.

“What the hell’s holding up the bread and butter pudding is what you’re really asking,” replied Fin with a difficult smile, holding the flyer out of readable sight in as unconcerned a manner as she could manage.
 
“Just a flyer drop.
 
Wanted to see if it was someone I know doing it, but it wasn’t.”

Not bad.

“Poor old them, on a cold night like this.
 
I’ve done that, and it’s really hard, specially after the first few hundred.”

The thought of her daughter leafleting the shadowy streets of suburban London had the effect of putting her own fears into perspective, and having folded the new message into her back pocket she asked Anna about her part time jobs as she dished up the pudding.
 
Sexuality was a spent topic, to which there was no returning.

They went to bed after watching a harrowing documentary about the plight of women in Ethiopia, which further caused Fin to think herself lucky, and gave rise to an unforced and animated discussion with Anna.
 
Things were so simple, so obvious, to the young.
 
Sad to think that complexity would eventually overwhelm her, and Fin hoped it wouldn’t be too painful a process.

The next morning Anna slept late, and Fin lay in bed for an hour after waking, letting thought ebb and flow through a passive mind.
 
She watched the wandering, flexing little disc of light reflecting off the glass of her wristwatch, as a feeble sunbeam angled under the blind and across the bed.
 
She tilted her wrist to make it ping-pong from wall to wall, then guided it to form the words “And all shall be well” in invisible writing on the ceiling.

She sat up.
 
Anna was going back today, and Fin would miss her badly, though that may have had something to do with the niggly sense of unfinished business.
 
Perhaps she would come up for Christmas.
 
Or perhaps not.
  
But all
would
be well.
 
Breakfast called.

Fin put off returning Rosie’s call until the following Sunday.
 
She had seen Anna off, and there had been no further hint of what she thought of her mother’s being a lesbian.
 
Perhaps she didn’t think it needed referring to any further. Well, at least it was out;
she,
Fin, was out.

She had shown the new flyer to Karen Boland at Harford Police, telling her about the stalker’s latest move. Nothing further was offered in the way of action, so she filed it with the others.
 
The shop had been demanding, with two reps’ appointments, complications with online orders, and more paperwork than usual.
 
She had received an e-mail from Pro-Train, accepting her application and inviting her to pay six hundred and twenty-five pounds – plus VAT – to reserve her place on the course which started in January.
 
“There are only sixteen places on each course, and the January session is always particularly popular.
 
Early booking is recommended.”
 
Hmm.
 
The oldest trick in the salesman’s book, the urgency ploy. But Sunday would be soon enough; if the places were gone, it was meant to be.

It was helpful, telling Rosemary about the weekend.

“It sounds as if it couldn’t have gone much better, if you ask me,” said Rosemary, “you weren’t exactly expecting a ringing endorsement, were you?”

“I suppose not. No, I guess it could have been a lot worse.”

“And Anna went off saying she’d see you again soon, didn’t she? She didn’t need to say that. Considering the shock, and the fact that – forgive me – you haven’t actually been very close, I’d say she reacted remarkably well, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, you’re right, Rosie. Let’s hope for the best. I mean, I don’t want to come between her and Janet, she really seems to have taken to her aunt in a big way. But I’d love to see her more often, have a better relationship with her.”

“The one doesn’t exclude the other, Fee darling. Do you think she’ll tell Janet?”

“Good God, no! I don’t think Janet would ever speak to me again!”

“This is the woman whose phonecalls you always dread anyway, is that right?”

Fin laughed.

“Hm, yes, true enough. But she’s been great to Anna, and I think she’s essentially a kind person. It’s just that I’ve always found her a bit scary. I wouldn’t want to upset her.”

“Why don’t you make a bit more of an effort with her? It might help with Anna, in a roundabout way. Call her more.”

“I never know what to say, Rosie.”

“Talk to Anna. Ask her what Janet’s interests are. You can make out it’s so you know what to get her for Christmas.”

“Yes. That’s actually a good idea,” said Fin, “I’ll try making an effort. It can’t hurt.”

“Oh, before I forget,” said Rosemary, “Siobhan keeps saying we must meet up soon, she was so disappointed that she couldn’t get away for coffee that time.”

Fin thought back.

“Do you know, Rosie, that was before I moved to Harford. Weeks ago!”

“Yes, it has been ages. You’ve just been living at fast forward while the rest of us have been on real time!”