After I've Gone Read online

  ‘I haven’t brought a toothbrush,’ I say.

  ‘You can share mine.’

  ‘Or an overnight bag. Or anything to wear to Sunday lunch at your mum’s.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. You don’t need anything to sleep in and we can sort an outfit tomorrow. The shops’ll be open from ten.’

  I look down at my feet, which are now really hurting in the heels. The thought of walking away from him to go to some crappy church hall in Mytholmroyd is ridiculous. Sadie and Maddie will understand that, surely?

  ‘I still feel bad about letting down Sadie and her sister . . .’

  ‘I’m sure they won’t mind. They’ll probably be pissed by now. They might not even remember that you didn’t turn up.’

  I know he’s wrong – certainly about them not remembering, anyway. But I also know what I want to do. I want to leave that old life behind. I want to grasp what he is offering me with both hands. I want him. And right now I want him so badly that nothing else matters.

  ‘Yeah. You’re right,’ I say.

  ‘I know I am. Just say you missed the last train home. They’ll understand.’

  Lee puts his arms around my waist. I feel myself fold into him, the last twinge of guilt melting away.

  ‘Come on, gorgeous. We’ve got unfinished business to attend to.’

  ‘Have we?’ I smile.

  ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t usually do things quite as quickly as that. I’d like to start over, right at the beginning, if you don’t mind. Take my time. I don’t want to miss any inch of you.’

  He pulls me closer and kisses me. I am utterly gone. Someone up there must really like me, to give me a break like this. There is no way on earth I am going to screw this up.

  *

  I wait until Lee goes into his kitchen to make some coffee before I text Sadie and Maddie.

  Really sorry, the awards thing ran late and I missed the last train. Hope you’ve had a good night x

  It’s a lame text, even by my standards. I text Dad too. Tell him the same and that I’m going to stay the night at Lee’s. Which feels a bit weird because it’s basically like telling your dad you’re about to have sex and he should look away.

  After a moment or two, my phone pings with a response from Dad.

  Are you OK? I can come and get you or I’ll pay for a taxi if you’d rather xx

  He means well, I know that. I can hear him saying ‘I’m just doing my job’ before I even pick the fight with him. But he needs to face up to the fact that I am twenty-two years old.

  I want to stay, Dad. I’m fine. More than fine, actually. See you tomorrow x

  I feel kind of grown-up sending it, and then, as soon as I’ve read it again, I feel like a complete cow.

  Dad sends back two kisses. I imagine him sitting there in the kitchen, grinding his elbows into the table with worry. And I see again his Facebook posts in my head, so heavy with sadness and loss, like he is going to disappear under the weight of it. I realise I haven’t checked my phone once since Lee met me after work. I click on Facebook and go to my timeline. There is now a stream of comments under Dad’s photo of me with Harrison.

  I have just started scrolling through them when Lee comes back into the room with the coffees.

  ‘See, I go out of the room for five minutes and you’re straight on Facebook.’ His tone is jovial, although there is a flash of something that looks distinctly like irritation on his face.

  I manage to smile at him before glancing back down at my phone. The photo of Harrison has disappeared, as have all the comments underneath. Not that I would have been stupid enough to show them to him if they hadn’t. If I want this relationship to work, which I do, it is clear there are some things about us that I am going to have to keep to myself.

  Jess

  July 2008

  Dad knocks on my door. My first reaction is to pretend I’m asleep. I do not want to have this conversation. But he knows full well that I’m not asleep, and I can’t bring myself to be mean to him. So I say, ‘Yeah?’ and brace myself for what I am about to hear.

  He comes in and sits down on the edge of my bed. He is fiddling with the buttons on his cardigan; he can’t even look me in the eye.

  ‘Mrs Booth phoned me today,’ he says. I roll my eyes and continue staring at the ceiling. ‘She says she’s concerned about you.’

  ‘What she’s concerned about is that I’m going to screw up my exams next year and that will look bad in the league tables.’

  Dad sighs. It is his turn to look up at the ceiling.

  ‘She does care about you, Jess. We all do. We simply want to help.’

  ‘Well, you can’t, can you? Not unless you can raise people from the dead. And I know everyone thinks I’m not coping – I see the looks they give each other – but you know what? I am coping. I’m coping the only way I know how. And I’m sorry I’m not turning cartwheels of joy, but funnily enough I don’t feel like doing that right now because it’s only been three months since Mum died. And you know what? I don’t think I’ll just snap out of it after six months or a year or whatever because I don’t feel like it, OK?’

  Dad looks at me for the first time. His eyes are wet with tears. I feel like such a cow.

  ‘Your mum didn’t want us to be like this, did she? And if school are concerned about your work suffering, we need to do something to help you, because that’s the last thing she’d have wanted – for it to have an impact on your education.’

  ‘But I don’t care about my results. I don’t care about anything. Don’t you get that?’

  ‘You told Mum you’d work hard to get into art college.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I was trying to be positive because I knew that’s what she wanted. I wasn’t going to tell her that I thought I’d be a miserable cow and screw everything up after she died.’

  Dad runs his fingers through what is left of his hair.

  ‘Maybe if you got out more with your friends? It’s not good, you being stuck in here by yourself all the time.’

  ‘I don’t want to go out. You don’t go out.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Only to work. You don’t go out partying, do you? Because you don’t feel like it – and neither do I.’

  ‘Yeah, but I’m an old git who hasn’t got any friends. You’re fifteen and you’ve got loads of them.’

  He has a hint of a smile on his face as he says it. I try really hard to smile back. I think I manage to turn up one corner of my mouth.

  ‘I see Sadie. She’s the only person I need right now. She’s the only one who understands.’

  I let Sadie come round because she lets me be miserable and cry and say it’s not fair. I know I must sound like Eeyore, but that’s how I feel and I’m not going to pretend otherwise. Not to my best friend. Sometimes I wish I lived in one of those cultures where you have to be in mourning for a year, because that seems a hell of a lot more decent, more fitting, than everyone going around smiling and pretending it never happened and not talking about it because they don’t want to upset me.

  Dad has got his head in his hands. I know he’s doing his best. I know I should go and give him a hug, but I can’t. Because if I do, I’m scared all the hurt will come out, and that will freak him out. Then he really will be worried.

  ‘Please just try, Jess. For your mum’s sake,’ he whispers.

  ‘OK,’ I whisper back. He gets up and leaves the room, silently closing the door behind him.

  Angela

  Sunday, 31 January 2016

  Lee calls at ten, which is early for him. I wonder if he is going to cancel. I do hope not.

  ‘Hello, love. Everything OK?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, fine, thanks. Just wondered if it’s too late to add one extra for Sunday lunch? Only, I’d like to bring Jess, if that’s all right.’

 
A smile creeps across my face. It is serious. I knew it.

  ‘Of course she can come. It’ll be lovely to meet her.’

  ‘That’s great. I wasn’t sure if you’d have enough food in. I can bring some bits with me if it helps.’

  ‘No, don’t be daft. You know I’ve always got plenty.’

  ‘Well, she’s got quite an appetite on her.’ I can hear giggling in the background.

  ‘There’ll be more than enough to go around. Is roast OK for her? Is there owt she doesn’t like?’

  ‘Only piri-piri sauce.’

  ‘Sorry?’ There is a muffled sound and I hear someone saying ‘Oi’ softly, away from the mouthpiece.

  ‘No, don’t worry. She eats anything and everything.’

  ‘Oh, good.’ And I mean it. Emma had the appetite of a sparrow. I worried she didn’t like my cooking at first, but Lee said she was always like that.

  ‘Great. We’ll see you at one then.’

  I put the phone down. For a second I am paralysed. There are so many things to do that I am unsure where to start. But then something takes over and I know what I must do first. Shopping. I need to go out to get some more food. The topside of beef is easily big enough for three but I’m not sure I’ll have enough potatoes for the roasties now. And I’m maybe a bit short of carrots too.

  I put on my boots, grab my bag and coat and pull the door behind me. It is handy to have the little M&S at the petrol station down the road. Just the thing you need in these sorts of emergencies. Not that it is an emergency, really. It’s simply that I’d rather be safe than sorry.

  Lee doesn’t usually bring them to meet me this early. This one must be special. I can sense it in his voice. He is clearly proud of her. He wants to show her off. I suspect she will be quite a stunner.

  I hurry across the garage forecourt into the shop. Normally, I would pick up the Sunday Mirror while I’m here, but there isn’t going to be time to even glance at it today. I pop a bag of potatoes into my basket and turn to the carrots. I don’t usually buy the ready prepared stuff but I am going to make an exception today. Anything to save a bit of time. I hand over the money to the girl on the till. I imagine they’re good to work for, M&S. The pay’s probably better than mine too. But I don’t think I could ever work in a petrol station. I would worry too much about the chance of a hold-up. At least in the supermarket you know that’s highly unlikely to happen.

  I head straight back home and get the vacuum cleaner out of the cupboard under the stairs. It’s a Miele pull-along. I’m not so keen on the upright ones, especially the see-through type. I don’t like to think about the dirt that might be on the carpet and I certainly don’t want to see it. I only vacuumed yesterday but I think I should give it a once-over. It’s not that I think she’ll be judging me – girls in their twenties probably don’t even think about such things these days – but I want her to know that Lee is from a good home, one where things are done properly. The last thing in the world I want is to let Lee down. I may not always be a mother he can be proud of, but I certainly am not going to be one who embarrasses him.

  The beef goes in the oven in plenty of time. I sprinkle some rosemary over it. I’ve done it once or twice before and Lee has said he likes it. While the roast is cooking I start work on the kitchen. I put a Robbie Williams CD on while I’m cleaning. Lee reminds me of him sometimes, when he’s being cheeky. Not that Lee can sing, of course. But he could have been in one of these boy bands, with his looks. Some of them only seem be there for their looks, to be honest. Certainly a few of the ones I’ve heard on The X Factor.

  I check the clock and get the roasties in with the beef. I’m just relieved Lee’s never been out with one of these vegetarians who would want them done separately. There’s no other way, as far as I am concerned.

  Once the veg is going I get the Yorkshire pudding batter ready. Proper big Yorkshires, served as a starter with gravy. These southerners don’t know what they’re missing out on.

  I have a final look around the kitchen before I go upstairs to make myself presentable. Everything is fine; everything is under control. Exactly the way it should be.

  *

  I start looking out the bedroom window at ten to one. Lee would hate it if he knew I was watching, but I don’t think he’ll see me up here. It’s not that I want to spy on them, it’s just that I want to see the two of them together before they arrive, when they don’t think anyone is watching.

  I glance at the edge of the wall next to the window. There is paint now, where the wallpaper used to be. I can still see it though, in my head. Still hear the noise as I scraped that bit off. Still feel the shame deep inside.

  I pull back from the curtain as Lee’s car pulls up across the road. He gets out and goes around to her side to open the door. He is a gentleman, our Lee, there has never been any doubt about that. I see her legs first – or, rather, the knee-high boots that emerge from the car with those big clunky heels all the girls seem to wear these days. She has a mustard-coloured tunic dress on and a black padded jacket. Her hair is long and a bit straggly. She is smiling at Lee. He takes her hand and shuts the car door.

  I hurry downstairs, glancing in the mirror in the hall as I pass it. I’ve redone my face since this morning, just to freshen it up a bit without looking as if I’ve tried too hard. I am in the kitchen by the time I hear Lee’s key in the door. I step out into the hallway as he calls out hello.

  ‘Hi, love,’ I say, giving him a kiss.

  ‘Mum, this is Jess. Jess, Angela.’

  She looks at me with wide eyes. She is probably incredibly nervous. I can still remember meeting Simon’s parents for the first time. It was all very formal and I dropped a pea from my fork onto the floor at the dinner table. I was in two minds as to whether I should scrabble around to try to pick it up or pretend it never happened.

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ I say, giving her a peck on the cheek. ‘Come in and make yourself at home, there’s no standing on ceremony here.’

  She smiles at me, and her shoulders appear to drop a little. Lee takes her jacket. He is right – her face is stunning. She has a slightly Mediterranean look about her and is all eyes and cheekbones. She is quite a catch – although Lee is too, of course. They would, no doubt, produce a very striking child.

  They follow me through to the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll just put the Yorkshires in now you’re here,’ I say.

  ‘Wait till you taste them, Jess,’ says Lee. ‘Best ones in the county.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ I tell him. ‘I’m sure Jess’s mum does a lovely Yorkshire pudding.’

  They exchange a look. I get the distinct impression I have said something wrong.

  ‘Sorry, I should have told you,’ says Lee. ‘Jess’s mum died seven years ago.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry, dear. I’ve put my foot in it, haven’t I?’

  ‘No,’ says Jess. ‘You weren’t to know. She was a brilliant mum but she was rubbish at Yorkshire puddings so she gave up and used a packet mix.’

  She is smiling as she says it, although there is a tremor in her voice. I like her. I like her a lot.

  ‘Well, she must have been very proud to have a beautiful daughter like you,’ I say. ‘That tunic looks fantastic on you. Such a lovely colour, too.’

  There is a hint of pink in her cheeks. She looks down at her feet. She is not so full of herself, this one. There is almost an innocence about her, which seems to be a rare thing in girls of her age these days.

  ‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘It was a present.’ She looks up at Lee as she says it. She clearly adores him, it is written all over her face. We have a chance here, we really do.

  ‘Well, I’m glad to see he’s treating you right. Now, what would you like to drink? I’ve got red or white wine.’

  ‘Just a coffee for me, thanks,’ says Jess.

  ‘And me,’ says
Lee. ‘Late night last night.’

  ‘Of course, I’d forgotten about that awards do,’ I say as I put the kettle on. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Good, thanks,’ says Lee. ‘We are now officially the best small company in Leeds.’

  ‘That’s fantastic! Well done you. Did you get a trophy or owt?’

  ‘Yeah. I left it at home, mind. Nice bit of bling for the office.’

  ‘And we sat on the Lord Mayor’s table,’ says Jess. ‘He was dead nice, too. Not stuck up at all.’

  Lee was right. She is very down to earth. She seems quite excited by the whole thing too. I suspect she’s no more used to these sorts of things than I would be.

  ‘Wow, mixing with all the right people, aren’t we?’

  She nods and gives a little shrug, as if she can’t quite take it all in.

  ‘And Jess was the most gorgeous one in the room, of course,’ adds Lee.

  She blushes again and looks down. Lee takes hold of her hand. He appears as smitten as she is.

  ‘I’m sure she was,’ I say, putting their coffees down on the table. ‘Now, you two sit down and I’ll see if those Yorkshires are ready.’

  They are. I serve them up with my homemade gravy. One big Yorkshire each. I remember Emma frowning the first time she came. Apparently they don’t do big Yorkshires down south where she came from. Jess eats every scrap. She finishes before either of us.

  ‘Wow, that was lovely, thanks,’ she says.

  ‘Thank you. You can come again,’ I joke.

  ‘Oh, she will do,’ says Lee. I catch the look in his eyes as he says it. He means it. He has no intention of letting this one go.

  When we have all finished, I get the beef out of the oven and Lee does the honours with carving. He stepped straight into the role of father of the house when it became vacant, even though he wasn’t yet a teenager. My little man. That’s what I used to call him. Not so little now, of course. He will make a great father, I know that. And now, for the first time in ages, I have real hope that it is going to happen.