A Little Love (14 page)

Pru watched as she took in the plush carpet on the stairs, the sparkling chandelier and the Italian tiled flooring of the hallway.

‘Welcome to our home, Meg.’

‘I feel a bit sick.’

‘It’ll be okay, love,’ she said over her shoulder.

They trod the second staircase. As Pru opened the front door of her apartment, she imagined seeing the place with Meg’s eyes for the first time. The opulent wallpaper and coordinating drapes, the antique side tables, oversized mirrors and individually lit oil paintings. She felt the need, as she often did, to excuse her inordinate wealth.

‘I haven’t always lived like this, you know. I grew up in a grotty two-up two-down in the East End, which I shared with three brothers, my mum and my aunt and two cousins. Milly and I worked in the match factory. We shared a single bed until we left home in our teens.’

‘Blimey.’ Meg was quiet for a second. ‘So how did you know what furniture would look nice and what clothes to wear and stuff, if you hadn’t grown up like that?’

Pru watched as the girl flattened the front of her T-shirt and looped her long fringe behind her ears. Her heart went out to her. It didn’t feel like so long ago that she too had felt adrift, unable to understand how people knew how to look confident and cool.

‘I copied people, stole their ideas. If I saw a woman that I thought looked nice or smart, I’d remember what she looked like and dress like her. It was the same with eating out, buying gifts and putting things in the flat, everything. I copied people that I thought got things right.’

Pru thought about her little notebook in which she had jotted furiously in the back of taxis and on the Tube.
Single variety of flowers for impact. If gold on belt and bag then gold jewellery, same for silver. A bowl of citrus fruits in kitchen looks fresh. Wide cuffs revealed on white shirts, beneath a navy jersey, v smart. Heavy eye make-up, pale lips; pale eyes, dark lips. All glasses to the right of the plate are mine; all small plates to the left are mine. Break bread roll at table, don’t cut it.
She hadn’t looked at it for years.

‘I’m much more relaxed now and if people don’t like how I do things, that’s their problem not mine. Plus I use interior designers when I need advice.’

‘I guess they’ll help anyone if you’ve got enough money.’

Pru chuckled. ‘Ain’t that the truth.’

‘That you, Pru?’ Milly called from the sitting room.

‘Yep.’

Milly came into the hallway. ‘Do you fancy a cup of tea? I was just going to pop the kettle on.’

Meg looked frightened and Pru noticed that she had inched closer to the front door, ready for escape.

‘Ah, Mills, I was just coming to see you.’ Pru drew a deep breath as she prepared her speech.

Milly looked up and did a double-take, staring open-mouthed at the girl with the beaten-up face that stood in the hallway of her home. ‘You have got to be kidding me!’ She put her hands on her hips. She ran her eyes over the little waif with dark circles beneath her eyes, lingering on the dirty T-shirt that strained over her enormous bump.

Meg clasped her hands across her stomach and stood facing the two cousins. It was the first time Pru noticed her likeness to Bobby. If Bobby had been there, they would have looked like the before and after shots on a fancy makeover show.

‘You are not seriously suggesting what I think you are?’

‘Meg needs a bit of a hand, Mills.’ Pru smiled at Meg, trying to calm things.

‘Is that right?’ Milly shouted. ‘Well, I’ve seen it all now! Are you out of your bleeding mind?’ And she flounced from the hall and disappeared into her room.

Pru pushed open the door of the spare room in the apartment above theirs, ignoring the tremor to her hand. She didn’t turn her head or look at Bobby’s door, which remained shut. She wasn’t quite up to that yet.

‘Here we are, Meg.’

Meg hesitated. ‘I’m a bit worried. I don’t want to cause any trouble for you.’

‘Don’t you worry about that. It’s not the worst trouble I’ve faced.’ She stood back. ‘This is your room.’

Meg hovered by the door, taking in the room. The vast bed with its honey-coloured wooden head- and foot-board, the stack of pristine white pillows and starched white bed linen, the thick cream curtains that were draped over tiebacks to reveal the ceiling-height Georgian window. China lamps with neutral shades sat on side tables. They were already lit – all the lamps were centrally controlled and on a timer, bathing both apartments in a homely golden glow.

She turned to Pru with wide eyes. ‘Is’all right, I guess.’

Pru laughed. ‘Your bathroom is just through there.’ She pointed to a glossy wooden door in the centre of the side wall.

‘I was a chambermaid at The Savoy a few years ago – this room, this whole flat reminds me of that. I never thought I’d sleep in a room like this.’

‘I know what you mean. If you’d have shown me this when I was younger, I’d have been too scared to set foot in here!’

‘That about sums it up for me.’ Meg placed her plastic box on the floor. ‘Is it okay to put it here?’

‘You can put it anywhere, love. This is your space for as long as you need it.’

‘Is that right?’ Milly’s voice came from the hallway. She stalked into the room and looked Meg up and down. But she only had words for her cousin. ‘I always thought we could rely on you, Pru. You told our Alfie that you’d always put Bobby first.’ She ignored the tears that slid down her face and into her mouth. ‘We’ve lost her, Pru. She’s gone. But not yet bloody cold and you do this.’ She gestured towards Meg.

‘Milly, I—’

‘No. Don’t try and explain it. There’s nothing you can say that can fix what you’ve done. Nothing.’ She turned to Meg, who was also crying now, and pointed at her. ‘You stay away from me. Do you hear me? You’ve got some nerve, coming here. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want to hear you.’

‘Milly!’ Pru shouted.

Meg nodded and shrank back against the wall.

Pru turned away from the upstairs flat with a heavy heart, wondering for the first time in decades whether she had done the right thing.

It was Saturday morning, two days after her row with Milly, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. The doorbell for the flat was ringing. Pru glanced at her alarm clock: it was 5 a.m. Milly was on the early, but was clearly ignoring the doorbell, probably as part of her campaign of anger against her. There must be a problem with a delivery, who else would call at this ungodly hour on a weekend?

Pru groaned and flung back her duvet. What was it they said? No rest for the wicked? Whoever it was that was jabbing at the bell on the outside wall was not going to admit defeat and leave any time soon. Fastening her grey jersey dressing gown around herself, she descended the stairs, yawning, and poked her head cautiously around the door.

‘Christopher!’

Her heart raced at the sight of him. It was two weeks since she had last seen him, at the funeral, and she had been nervous of calling, not wanting to intrude on him or his sister while they were grieving, and anxiously aware that she had snapped at his mention of Ginny. The fact was, she wanted him to like her, not use her as therapy, but she should have explained herself better. And then the longer she’d left it, the bigger deal it had become to pick up the phone.

She wanted desperately to return to the playful texting and chitchat they had exchanged before the accident. The tragedy had changed the parameters of their courtship. She had forgotten how it made her feel to see him; it pierced her grief, the sight of him, fired a jolt of joy through her stomach and up her spine. She gathered her dressing gown around her neck, anxious not to reveal her pyjamas and feeling incredibly shy, like a half-dressed teenager caught putting the milk bottles out by Ronald Clayton, the boy everyone in Blondin Street fancied.

‘Grab your coat, Miss Plum.’ He smiled.

‘What? My coat? It’s five o’clock in the morning!’

‘Yes, I know what time it is. I thought you bakers were early risers, no pun intended.’ He rocked on his heels.

‘We are, but still, five o’clock!’

‘Come on. Time and tide and all that.’ He clapped his hands together and rubbed his palms. ‘We are going out for the day.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Aha, you shall have to trust me. But you’ll need sturdy shoes, a windcheater and a jersey. The weather might be changeable. I’ll wait in the car.’ He pointed to the black Jaguar that was parked illegally on the kerb.

‘But I haven’t had a shower or anything.’ She sounded like a nervous schoolgirl. ‘And it’s a bit tricky, I don’t know if I feel up to it and I can’t just leave Milly and Meg.’

‘Who’s Meg?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Good, we’ve got a long journey. I’m not taking no for an answer. Leave a note if you must, don’t want anyone to think you’ve been kidnapped. And we are leaving in precisely ten minutes.’ He tapped his watch and climbed into the car.

Pru closed the front door and leant against it. Milly poked her head out from the corridor that led to the café.

‘What are you making a racket about at this time of the morning?’

‘Oh, you’re talking to me then?’

‘I might be talking to you, but it doesn’t mean I like you.’

‘The feeling is entirely mutual.’ Pru smirked.

‘What are you doing up? Do you know what time it is?’

‘Yes I do, Mills,’ she shouted, untying her dressing gown as she went. ‘I’m going out for the day and I leave in ten minutes, apparently.’

‘Out for the day? Where?’

Pru craned her head over the banister. ‘I don’t know, but it’s a very long way and I’ll need a windcheater as the weather might be changeable.’ She disappeared from view.

‘Blimey, sounds like a barrel of laughs. And don’t think I’m going to be checking on your houseguest, cos I won’t!’ Milly shut the door with a little more force than was entirely necessary.

Eleven minutes later, Pru settled into the passenger seat of the Jaguar and eased off her navy pumps. ‘I like your car.’

‘Thank you. I’ve heard a nice car helps attract women, so that’s why I got it.’ He patted the steering wheel.

‘I see. How’s that working out for you?’

He gave her the once-over. ‘I’d say pretty well.’

Pru smiled. Only weeks ago, his humour would have had her rolling with laughter, but not today, not now.

‘Do you drive, Pru?’

‘No. I never learned, and living in town, it’s always felt easier to jump on the Tube or in a cab.’ She didn’t mention that in her youth learning to drive had been way beyond her means. She hadn’t known anyone that owned their own transport and she couldn’t have afforded lessons let alone a car. Despite her success, she had never really caught up.

‘I could always teach you?’

‘At my age? I don’t think so.’

‘Forgive me. I didn’t realise there was an age limit. And I seem to remember you chastising me for using that phrase a little while ago. How old are you anyway, eighty-four?’

‘No, I just look it and feel it. You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘Actually, no I don’t. And I have a new philosophy. I have decided that life starts when you let it, whether you are twenty or seventy. It’s a state of mind and I am choosing to let this chapter of my life begin today, right now! Because you know what, Pru? William and Bobby had their whole lives ahead of them and pow! In one second, one wrong move and it was gone, extinguished in the blink of an eye.’

‘I know. I can’t believe it. I still can’t believe it.’ Pru put her head in her hands and let the tears fall. She had planned on being tough today, but it was harder than she thought. She cried hard and was instantly embarrassed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she spluttered into her hands.

‘That’s okay. You go ahead and cry. You are allowed one sob every hour, so your next one is due at…’ He looked at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Six fifteen.’

She smiled at him through her tears.

He shook his head. ‘I have to joke or I’ll cry too. It’s terrible, just terrible. How’s Milly doing? I thought she was very brave at the funeral. You both were. Remarkable actually. I don’t remember much about Ginny’s funeral, it was and still is a bit of a blur, but I’m fairly sure I wasn’t as contained as you and Milly.’

Pru gulped down the hard ball of tears that had gathered at the back of her throat. ‘Milly’s not doing great, but she’s making out she is, it’s what she does. Things have got a bit complicated and I may not have handled it in the best way.’

‘Complicated how?’ Christopher looked across at her as he navigated the empty streets of Knightsbridge and headed west towards the M4.

‘Oh, Chris, I don’t really know where to start, so I’m just going to say it. I wanted to wait until I saw you in person, but now I’m wishing I’d told you over the phone. Because this feels awkward.’

‘Told me what?’ He glanced to his left again, trying to gauge her news from her expression.

‘I know William was your nephew… and Bobby really loved him, she really did. He was good to her, in some ways, but—’

‘But what? Spit it out, Pru, the suspense is killing me.’

Pru exhaled and told him everything, watching the waves of shock and disbelief cloud his face. By the time she had finished, they were approaching Heston Services.

Christopher furrowed his brow, trying to take it all in. He was silent for a good minute, and for a moment Pru thought he was furious with her. Then he spoke.

‘And she’s genuine?’

Pru nodded, emphatic. ‘Yes, definitely.’

‘I’m not going to tell Isabel, not yet. I don’t feel it’s my place and she has so much going through her mind, the poor love. She’s not what you’d call a coper. It’s destroyed her, it really has – well, you saw her at the funeral. William was always her golden boy, her soldier. I don’t want anything to tarnish that for her; it’s pretty much all she’s got left, isn’t it?’

‘I guess so, but Meg’s carrying her grandchild and that might be wonderful for her, a little silver lining.’

‘You’re right, it might be, but I think I’ll let the ground settle first before springing that on her. Do you think that’s wrong?’

‘I think I don’t know her, Chris. You do and you should do what you think’s best.’