The Lie of You: I Will Have What Is Mine (23 page)

She laid out some photographs of the Grand Reception Room on my desk showing a long room with a high ceiling decorated with ornate stencils of classical figures picked out in red and gold on a background of brilliant turquoise.

‘It looks amazing. Won’t we need a lot of people to fill a room that size?’

‘Leave that to me. It’s great, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s quite something. Well done, you, for finding it.’

Thursday, and she finally showed up. She arrived at the office at about ten-thirty and asked Aisha if she could have an appointment to see me. I was sitting in my room and was on the phone when I saw her walk into view. She looked different. She has lost weight and was wearing her hair down, which I’ve never seen before. She was dressed in a tailored black suit with a pencil skirt. In fact, she looked rather incredible. I could see how men would find her sexy. That thought made my chest fill with acid again.

Aisha looked at me through the glass walls of my office. Heja had walked out of view. I was talking to a contributor and motioned to Aisha to come in. She came in and closed the door behind her and waited.

‘It’s Heja. She wants to talk to you. She was very formal about it. I think something’s happened.’

I found that I was breathless.

‘She looks different,’ I said.

‘Yes, she does. She didn’t ring in sick, did she?’

‘No. Not a word all week.’

Aisha made her eyes round and mischievous. ‘Maybe she’s getting married to that bloke I saw her with.’

‘You think?’

If only, I thought; but I knew it was my husband she was after.

‘I’ve got nothing on for a while, have I?’

‘No. Shall I tell her to come now?’

I took a deep breath and nodded.

Heja stood at the threshold to my room. I did not move from behind my desk. I needed the distance the desk put between us. I asked her to sit on the chair in front of me and she did so with an expression of barely concealed contempt. I fought the urge to slap her face and scream abuse at her. I said nothing because she has a way of using my words against me. I would let her speak first.

‘I have just heard that my mother is seriously ill and I am needed in Helsinki at once,’ she said.

I couldn’t pretend to be sorry and I didn’t know what to say so I was silent.

‘I plan to leave tomorrow,’ she said with an insolent drawl to her voice. I sat up in my chair. I was finding it difficult to look at her face.

‘I see. I take it you’re asking for compassionate leave?’

‘I am telling you that I need to leave the magazine straight away. I will not be able to work out my notice.’

Her weight loss had accentuated her cheekbones and her hair lying loose around her face projected an image of fragile femininity. But I knew she was made of steel.

‘Are you asking for compassionate leave or are you resigning?’

‘I am resigning, with immediate effect. I am flying to Helsinki tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow,’ I said. ‘I accept your resignation but I’ll need you to put in writing that there’s a family emergency so that I can waive the notice period.’

She gave a small cold smile as if to say,
Make me
.

‘You can send any papers to my London address.’

Then she stood up, smoothed her skirt over her thin hips and walked out of my office without another word.

Aisha came in two minutes later.

‘Are you all right, Kathy?’

‘I had a disturbed night last night. Heja just resigned.’

‘Why?’

‘Her mother’s very ill and she’s got to go home to Finland.’

‘Good riddance,’ said Aisha energetically. ‘Sorry about her mum but, boy, is she difficult to like! I never trusted her, Kathy. And while you were in Cornwall she went out to lunch with Philip.’

I sighed and rested my head on my hand. ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache.’

‘Shall I get you a cappuccino? I’m getting myself one. And I’ve got paracetamol in my desk drawer. I’ll get you two.’

‘Thank you, Aish.’

I should feel relieved. She is my enemy and she is going away, but I don’t feel free of her.

SEPTEMBER

Robert has been away in America, visiting his mother and sister. He is back this week and he could prove difficult to shake off. He has tried to get closer over the last few months. He is sure things have advanced between us since I took him to meet my parents and he got on with Solange. I wrote him a short letter, which he will find on his return.

Dear Robert,

I have just received bad health news from my parents and I have to leave for Helsinki in the next few hours. I am sorry we could not see each other before I left. It has all been so very rushed and concerning. I will be in touch as soon as there is some news to tell you. I hope your mother and sister are well.

My love,

Heja

My answering machine is on, my lights are off. Robert will not come round to look for me here and he does not have my parents’ address in Helsinki.

Kathy had to be told something specific, something serious that she would believe and could not question. I would never pretend that my father was very ill. I would never tempt fate like that even for a moment. But I didn’t mind telling her that Solange was ill, that a sudden and acute illness had struck her down.

Today I received a heavily embossed invitation to the launch of the World Heritage Sites guide. The launch is happening in three weeks’ time at the Locarno Suite of the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. What a grand location and no doubt one that Philip has chosen. She will play a starring role at the event as the guides were her idea. Markus will go along to show his support, the husband supporting his wife the editor.

Last week I sold my convertible at a car dealership in South Kensington. Today I called the estate agent and put my beautiful flat on the market. I have hired a Volvo. I went down to the car park and started the engine. It is less easy to manoeuvre than my convertible but it is more practical for the journeys ahead. It is also less recognizable. It took me over two hours to reach Deal. Much of the drive was on motorways. How ugly parts of Britain have become: these hideous motorway service stations that loom up at you; these plain, utilitarian bridges spanning the roads. So much stained concrete, so many lost opportunities for built beauty.

I found the Crown and Castle Hotel in Deal without difficulty. It is right on the seafront. The woman at the reception desk looked very young. She was wearing an ugly navy and red patterned blouse, hotel issue. Her face was carefully made up to make her look older, with too much foundation and lipgloss.

‘I have you down for two nights?’ she said.

‘Yes, that is correct.’

‘Will you be requiring dinner in the restaurant this evening?’

‘Yes, please, at eight o’clock.’

‘And would you like some help with your suitcase?’

‘Yes, there’s a case in the boot, thank you.’

I gave her my car keys.

My room has horrible soft furnishings of a sickly peach colour. The curtains are made of that mock linen with a lace curtain in front. I pulled these back and opened the window. I do have a view of the sea. There was a tap on the door and a young man brought in my suitcase. I brought a large suitcase with me because I have a lot of things to buy while I am here. His hair stuck up at odd angles and his skin was poor. He looked about sixteen years old and he blushed when I tipped him. I lay on the bed and rested for an hour.

Deal is a slow-paced, old-fashioned town. I walked along the seafront on the path that runs along by the beach. I passed elderly couples and middle-aged women out with their dogs. There is a lifeboat station on the beach and this seemed to be the focus of the community. The high street has the usual collection of small shops and I counted four teashops. The place is perfect.

I found one estate agent that looked suitable. The man behind the desk had a name badge: Wayne Bevan. He was in his mid-twenties with a thick bull neck and a crew cut. His face had a hopeful look to it.

‘I’d like to rent a small house for October and November,’ I said.

‘Yeah, there’ll be quite a lot available then. How many bedrooms do you need?’

‘Two will be fine.’

‘Sea view, I suppose?’

‘No, that is not essential. I want somewhere comfortable and quiet, a small detached house or cottage with a garden.’

He nodded and tapped keys on his computer.

‘I’ve got some cottages, with gardens, a couple of places we could look at. I can put in the calls this afternoon and we can look at them tomorrow, if that’s convenient.’

I chose grilled trout for dinner. It was watery with very little flavour. The vegetables were also watery. The hotel dining room had windows facing the sea. It would have been a good view except that there were three hideous bright orange glass vases on the windowsills with dried flowers in them and these obscured the view. I do not understand the point of dried flowers. Who wants to look at dead stalks and dusty flowerheads? The dining room was half full and the other guests were elderly and muted.

I saw one lone woman sitting at a table by the window in the corner. She looked a bit strange. She must have been in her late sixties. She had long grey hair that swarmed over her shoulders and down her back. She wore a low-necked purple top, which stretched over her large breasts. She was reading a book as she ate and her face was angry. Later I heard her speak sharply to the waitress because she had had to wait for her pudding. I wondered if she felt she had been slighted because she was a woman on her own.

Wayne picked me up at the hotel at ten o’clock the next morning. He drove me through the streets of Deal. The first cottage we looked at was not suitable at all. It had four steps up to the front door and was overlooked at the back by a large timber-framed house. I told Wayne it would not do.

‘The next place costs more. It’s a really nice little property, in a private road, on the way out of Deal.’

We drove out of Deal and turned into a road, Cremers Drift, that was not much more than a track. It was bordered on one side by a large field.

‘That’s part of a farm. You’re allowed to walk along the path at the side and it’s a nice walk to Kingsdown and to Deal.’

I nodded.

‘The road is a bit rough,’ I said.

‘Yeah, there are a few potholes. It’s a private road, you see, and the residents pay for its upkeep. It’s nice and quiet here, though, and a good class of properties.’

Overstrand Cottage was at the end of the road. It was a small white-painted house with a neat garden and a trimmed hedge. It was spotless inside. There was one largish bedroom upstairs at the front and a smaller bedroom overlooking the back garden. The kitchen was well equipped and the bathroom was adequate. The cottage felt cared for. It did not have that depressing abandoned atmosphere you can find in rental properties.

‘This is fine. I will take it.’

Wayne drove me back to the hotel.

‘So, do you, ah, have family down here?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘I hope you’ll enjoy it. The weather can get a bit changeable down here, though we do get some good days in the autumn.’

‘When can I have the keys, Wayne?’

‘You can pick them up from the office on your day of arrival.’

‘Now, that will be a problem. I won’t be arriving in Deal until very late that evening. Would it be possible to post them to me a couple of days before?’

‘Don’t normally do that, you see.’

‘Could you make an exception for me? I will pay the two months’ rent in full today and the deposit. I need to have the keys in advance. You could send them to me by registered mail.’

He drew up in front of the hotel. I held his eyes for a long moment.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Wayne, I appreciate that.’

In the afternoon I walked along Deal seafront again. I saw the woman with the long grey hair walking in front of me. Her hair was flying free and she was dressed in a long black skirt that swept behind her. I saw her stop in front of a teashop. She was looking at the china plates loaded with cheesecake and meringues. I walked past her and we did not acknowledge each other. Further along the high street there was a Boots chemist. I went in and found the baby care section at the back of the shop. There was so much to choose from. I bought a set of baby bottles and milk powder. It was difficult to gauge what size nappies I should buy. In the end I bought a pack for babies of eighteen months. The woman in Boots told me where I could buy a buggy in Deal.

Eventually I had everything I needed. I packed the baby stuff in the suitcase and put the buggy in the boot. I wanted to get back to the calm and comfort of my flat so much but I knew the signs. I needed to rest again. My legs were feeling heavy. I dragged myself up to that ugly impersonal hotel room and lay on the bed until dinner.

When my doctor told me I had the disease he said I could take some steps to alleviate the symptoms. I could not be cured. I might have until my mid, even my late, forties. I lay there and thought about how Arvo Talvela had convinced me that I should try all the medical treatments that were available for my condition. Because of him I tolerated the painful examinations, the frequent blood tests and the drugs.

When he died everything changed. He had been my guiding light. He had said he would be with me in this fight against the disease and that I would grow as a person even as I got weaker. He said I had no idea yet what the value of my life would be, even when I became paralysed. I told him how I had overheard Tanya’s heartbroken tears in my grandfather’s garden when I was just a little girl. He said Tanya had still been glad to be alive, that her comment to me had shown that. It was life itself that mattered. There would be something of worth in my last months, something I had no idea of now.