Thirty-Two

They pulled up outside her flat at nearly 4.30 p.m. and, as her father took her suitcase from the boot, Mandy kissed her mother goodbye. ‘I’ll phone this evening,’ her mother said for the second time.

‘All right, but please don’t worry, I’ll be fine,’ Mandy reassured her.

Her father insisted on carrying her case up to her flat despite Mandy’s assurance she could manage. She wanted to be alone, was looking forward to it, just her in her flat, before Adam arrived after work in an hour or so. Going down the short garden path, with her father following, her heart skipped a beat as she unlocked the front door and stepped into the hall. After ten days away she was greeting it afresh: the high Victorian ceiling with its permanent damp spot, the wallpaper below the dado rail in need of a coat of paint, and the original mosaic-tiled floor slightly grubby from the comings and goings of the tenants – all shabby compared to her aunt’s house but oh so welcoming as home.

She picked up the letters on the small table just inside the hall and quickly sifted through them, but none were for her. Adam had probably put her mail in her flat when he’d stopped by with the milk and bread. Leading the way up the wide balustraded staircase, she turned on to the landing and was finally outside her very own front door. Inserting the key, she unlocked the door, then pushed it open and heard the familiar squeak. ‘That hinge needs oiling,’ her father said, following her in with the case. ‘I’ll see to it if you have a can of oil.’

‘I don’t. I’ll do it another time. Thanks, anyway.’

‘Where do you want the case?’ he asked, unwilling to simply pass it to her and leave. ‘It’s heavy.’

‘On the bed, please.’

She waited just inside the room as her father crossed to the recess – the bedroom part of the studio flat – and lifted the case on to the bed. ‘You will be all right, alone?’ he asked, glancing anxiously around.

‘Yes, please don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Adam will be here soon.’

‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He hesitated, then came over and kissed her goodbye. ‘Thanks again for everything you did for Grandpa. I’ll phone later. There’s no need to see me out.’

She went with him on to the landing and then waited at the top of the stairs as he went down. ‘Bye,’ she called as he arrived at the bottom.

He glanced up. ‘Bye for now, love. Take care.’ Opening the front door, he let himself out as Tina from the downstairs flat came in. Mandy knew her well; they’d texted while she’d been away.

‘Hi,’ Tina called, looking up and seeing Mandy. ‘Glad you’re back. Fancy a drink later?’

‘Adam’s coming. Tomorrow?’

‘Sure. I’ll knock for you about eight?’

‘Great.’

Re-entering her flat, Mandy closed the door and wandered slowly around the room, savouring everything anew. The faded green leather armchair beside the Turkish rug; the massive oak wardrobe with the warped door that stuck; the three-quarter-size bed that squeaked; and the Japanese-style dressing screen with the nightclothes she’d been wearing on the morning she’d left still flung over it. It was home and it was hers. The room smelt faintly musty from being closed up and she crossed to the bay window and hauled up one of the lower sashes. The late afternoon air rushed in, sharp and fresh, stirring the curtains and breathing life into the room. Going to the kitchenette, she opened the fridge door. Not only had Adam bought milk and bread but also eggs, bacon, cheese, juice, a fresh cream éclair – her favourite – and a bottle of white wine. She smiled at his thoughtfulness. Resisting the temptation to open the wine, she took out the milk to make a cup of tea, filled the kettle and, while it boiled, crossed to her suitcase to start unpacking.

She removed two items and stopped, suddenly and completely overwhelmed by a debilitating sadness. Coming from nowhere and with an intensity that was frightening, it engulfed her as though the biggest, blackest cloud had settled over the sun, obliterating any chance of light, now or in the future. Straightening, she left the unpacking and sat on the bed beside the open case. She stared unseeing at the floor, her mind a blank. Her body felt so heavy and weighted down, it was almost impossible to move; everything seemed too much effort. Of course she was sad, she thought, her dear grandpa had died, but this was more than sorrow, it was as if she were being buried alive. A darkness, a bleakness so dense that everything – her past, present and future – seemed completely pointless, her whole life not worth living.

She sat further back on the bed and curled her legs around her. The kettle boiled and clicked off; the old fridge hummed with the effort of keeping its contents cold; and the street noise filtered in through the open window. Gradually the late afternoon light began to fail and the room lost its sharpness. Mandy remained where she was on the bed, hardly moving and staring into space. She heard the doorbell ring; Adam was outside waiting for her to go down and let him in. She didn’t move. A few minutes later it rang again and she knew he would assume she was in the shower or toilet and use his key to let himself in. A moment later he was knocking at her door and his key was in the lock.

Hauling herself to her feet, her legs stiff from sitting in one position, she crossed the room and switched on the light. The door opened. ‘Hi, love!’ he cried, pleased to see her. ‘How’s my Mandy?’ She felt his arms around her, hugging for all he was worth, and then his lips seeking hers. She instinctively drew back. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Insensitive me. Let’s sit and talk.’

With his arm around her shoulder they crossed to the bed. He lifted the case on to the floor to make room for them. She sat beside him, their legs outstretched, using the wall as a backrest as they often sat in the evenings. ‘How are you?’ he asked tenderly. ‘You must be very sad. I can remember how I felt when I lost my granddad.’

She shrugged despondently. ‘Yes, I am sad, but not only from losing Grandpa. There’s something else, Adam.’

‘What sort of something? You’re not going to finish with me, are you?’ he said lightly, as a joke, but with an underlying anxiety as though he feared it could be so.

‘No.’ She rested her head on his shoulder and, staring across the room, tried to formulate her thoughts. How she wished her sadness could just be put down to bereavement, how simple that would be. She knew she owed Adam some explanation; he was after all her partner; but how much she could tell him she wasn’t sure. ‘Something happened to me a long while ago,’ she tried. ‘While I was at Evelyn’s I discovered something and I’m trying to sort through it and deal with it.’

‘What sort of something?’ he asked, looking at her anxiously. ‘Why are you being so vague?’

‘It was when I was just thirteen, ’ she began, and stopped. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, Adam; you’re going to have to be patient with me.’ For suddenly she’d found that she couldn’t tell Adam. That despite, or possibly because of, the closeness of their relationship, the last person she wanted to tell – to know – she’d been sexually assaulted was Adam. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘You’re going to have to be patient with me.’

He gave her shoulder a little squeeze of reassurance and kissed her cheek. They were silent for some time. She felt awkward and knew she should be saying or doing something after all his thoughtfulness, but what? ‘Thanks for putting the things in the fridge,’ she said at length.

‘No problem. Shall we open the wine?’

‘I don’t mind,’ she said unenthusiastically. And she really didn’t mind; in fact, not only didn’t she mind, she couldn’t be bothered even to think about it. He could open the wine if he wished or leave it in the fridge – either way, it made no difference.

‘Or would you like to go out for something to eat?’ he offered.

‘Not really. Thanks anyway.’ He was trying so hard, and she felt wretched for not being able to respond, but she really didn’t care right now – about wine, going out, or even him. And whereas, not so long ago – that morning and during the drive here – she’d been looking forward to being close to him again, lying in his arms and feeling his body caress hers, she now found that not only didn’t she want him physically near her but she was feeling repulsed by the idea.

‘You OK, Mandy?’ he asked after a moment, sensing her disquiet and kissing her cheek again. ‘Is there anything I can do or get you, love?’

She shrugged. ‘Not really.’ Then she realized there was something he could do, cruel though it was to suggest it. ‘Adam, I’m so sorry,’ she said, shifting away from him. ‘But I need to be alone.’

He looked at her, surprised. ‘Do you want me to go?’

She nodded and hated herself. Good, kind Adam.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ She could see his pain at her rebuff.

Sliding his arm from her shoulders he moved to the edge of the bed and stood up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I was looking forward to seeing you but it doesn’t feel right – not tonight.’

He stared at her, hurt and confused; he didn’t understand, but then why should he? She didn’t either. Sliding off the bed, she walked with him to the door. ‘Will you be all right alone?’ he asked, as her father had done.

‘Yes. I’ll phone you.’

She saw his concern mingle with rejection as he leant forward to kiss her lips. Instinctively she moved her head to one side so his lips brushed her cheek instead. He opened the door and in silence let himself out. She watched him go and knew again she was a cold-hearted bitch. Loyal, caring Adam, who’d put up with so much from her and who, a few days before, had asked her to live with him and be his partner, now dismissed without explanation. It would serve her right if he never wanted to see her again, wanted nothing more to do with her. And whereas, before, she’d always been distraught at the prospect of losing him and had quickly tried to make up any argument, she now found herself thinking it didn’t really matter, and in some ways it would be easier, a lot easier, if she didn’t have a relationship to deal with.