Chapter 3
The gloom of greyness that sat like a blanket over the sky was finally joined by the threatened rain, washing over the town in sheets, a ceaseless downpour that made it difficult to go out in fear of being drenched within seconds. It set me on edge and I found myself wandering around, unable to relax or settle my mind to one thing.
Finally even my saint of a mother grew fed up with me hanging around the house, nothing to occupy my thoughts or my hands, bored and restless as any schoolboy. She drove me into town and deposited me at the library, begging me to spend a couple of hours there; away from her kitchen.
In truth it was quite a pleasant way to while away a rainy morning. People did not expect you to interact in a library, but left you to your own devices. I spent a happy hour quietly browsing the groaning shelves, before selecting a few books and settling down in a chair in the corner to read.
If music was my life, then reading was a hobby I enjoyed in my free time. Unfortunately my former job had granted me very few hours to call my own and most of those were spent showing the world how aggressively I could enjoy myself. Evenings were spent out drinking and clubbing and the weekends not spent working; were full of sport and activities; usually designed to show that I lacked neither courage nor the money to indulge my hobbies. The more dangerous the sport and the more money that could be splashed out on designer items; the more my colleagues and I participated in it. Weekend trips spent snowboarding; windsurfing and rock climbing were all commonplace.
But now that my 'friends' had deserted me and my body was no longer up to the rigours that such sport demanded; I happily stretched out in an easy chair placed in the corner of the huge room and with the tempo of the rain beating against the window lost myself in the satire of Evelyn Ware's Decline and Fall. Snorting mildly at some of the more outlandish incidents I contentedly lost myself in the story, not caring about time; just enjoy the solitude and luxury of reading.
"Hello Eric," I looked up in shock and surprise at the voice greeting me, only to see my would-be acquaintance looking down at me, one hand resting on the handle of the buggy, the other clutching a pile of books against her chest.
"Ali," I put my book down, turning down the page corner to keep my place and tried to arrange my marred features into a welcoming smile. "How are you?"
"A lot better thanks. And you?" I nodded my affirmation and looked at her expectantly, not quite sure how to continue the conversation, what to say. Where have you been? Do you know how upset I've been over your absence? Is your little girl sleeping at all?
"So the health visitor gave me some advice and I just rather holed myself up and followed it, but it's made such a difference. Tess has actually slept through the past four nights. You can conquer the world if you have enough sleep." I tore myself away from my thoughts to listen to her explanation.
"That's good news. You look a lot better," I offered.
"Thanks. Well, I just saw you and thought I'd say 'hi'." She flashed a smile at me, lighting up her face. Our moment was interrupted as her baby let out a squawk of indignation, possibly annoyed at the lack of attention being paid towards her. "Oh darling," Ali spun the pram around to look at its occupants, the books sliding from her grasp as she did. "Shit," her swear coloured the air as the books landed at my feet.
I bent down and clumsily gathered them up, noting that apart from one children's book they all seemed to be about exercise, especially Pilates. "Pilates?" I questioned as I gathered them up, it was something I was not that familiar with.
"It's pea-lah-tes," she laughed in reply, annunciating the syllables for me as she removed her baby from the confines of the pram and bounced her against her chest. "Good postnatal exercises, I need to work on my core strength otherwise I fear I will never be fit again. Anyway, I guess I'd better go, it's time for madam's lunch and she stinks, so she will start loosing it very soon."
"Well, would you like to go for a coffee," I offered, not wanting to loose her company so quickly. Please don't leave me, please; it has been so nice having someone to talk to.
"That's really sweet of you Eric, but I am afraid that I cannot afford it." She replied, strapping her daughter back in, now that she had comforted her. I should be getting home; it's a bit of a drive."
"Um, well," I paused, patting my coat pocket to check for funds and felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of my neck as I realised that in my haste my wallet was still sitting on my chest of drawers at home. "Tell you what, would you like to come back to my place for lunch. If your baby; um Tess is desperate; I only live five minutes away." I winced at my apologetic and halting invitation, she would never guess that I use to be considered something of a catch!
I caught her watching me, her face set into a frown as if she were weighing up the consequences. Of course, damn it, she didn't know me from Adam. A brief conversation in a coffee shop hardly made us bosom pals. "I mean I live in Guildford Drive," I continued, "not known for its large axe murder population and its close." She laughed at my comment; obviously I hadn't been far off from what she was thinking. And I live with my parents.
"Well, as you claim not to be an axe murder, then thank you very much; it's a kind offer," she paused and looked out the window at the relentless rain, a cheeky smile widening her mouth. "Do you need a lift home then?"
"I wouldn't say no," I stood up wrapping my coat, moving my protesting arms back into the sleeves of my coat and stood waiting for Ali. Instead I found her gazing up at me, a look I could not place in her eyes as she looked me up and down. Oh god, please I thought you were better then that. Don't assess me in that way. Please don't be scared of me.
"You're quite tall aren't you?" Was her question, again that look; as if she were calculating something. "About six foot two, three?"
"Yes!" I was surprised. I had rarely met anyone who could calculate height so easily.
"Well, you're 'gonna have fun fitting in my car then." She said with a wicked grin.
Fifteen minutes later I could see what she meant as I stood surveying the compact little car with rusty wheel arches. A baby seat was strapped into the back, a toy mobile hanging off the window and one of those bloody 'Baby on board' stickers in the back window. "Here you go," she said handing me her pile of books. "Get in and I'll be with you in a sec." Unused to being so perfunctorily dismissed, I gawped for a second and then got in the front. I suddenly saw what she meant about my height, for the front seat was moved so far forward to accommodate the baby chair in the back that my legs were crammed up against my body, my knee knocking against the gear stick. It hurt like hell, my skin and muscles protesting against being made to move in such a fashion and I briefly debated getting drenched versus being squashed.
There was a loud bang as Ali slammed the boot shut, dusting her hands off as if it were a job well done, the rain running in rivulets off her hair and dripping off her nose. She got in beside me, her smile once again making her eyes sparkle. "Okay axe murder, tell me how to get to your house then."
Tess was really starting to yell by the time we reached home and I managed to get out the car, almost falling onto the driveway as my uncooperative limbs protested at the position I had been in. We made an ungainly procession through the backdoor, the screeching child getting louder with every second.
"Nice place you got here," Ali took in the large kitchen, all clean and sparkling, full of inviting warmth. "Is your wife at home?"
"Actually, I um…" I trailed off, shrugging off my coat and draping it across the back of a chair. "I live with my.." I never got a chance to finish, for my mother entered the kitchen, obviously wanting to find out the source of the noise.
"What is making that noise, it sounds like a baby, oh," was her opening gambit as she took in the soaked woman with the screaming baby standing next to me. We were all rather wet, my coat dripping puddles on the floor; whilst Ali's nose was quietly growing red. "Hello Eric, I didn't expect you back yet." My mother's voice was calm, as if it were quite commonplace to have strange women and children making a mess of her kitchen.
"Hi Mum," I felt like the proverbial teenager, who had been caught making out with their girlfriend. "This is Ali and Tess, "I spoke loudly above the now piercing scream of the child. "She needs somewhere to feed and change her and I said she could do it here."
"Well no wonder the poor child is crying if it's her feed time. Eric stop standing there like a lemon, put the kettle on and go and get changed, you're sopping. Ali, it is very pleasant to meet you dear. Would you like a towel to dry your hair? Hand me your baby, isn't she lovely."
And with that my mother took control of the situation in her usual way, whilst I was dispatched to remove my wet clothes. Living back at home was like sinking into a cosy duvet, everything seemed to run so efficiently, so easily and comfortably. It was like drowning in a sea of cotton wool.
Five minutes later I returned to find Ali sitting on the floor of our living room in front of a crackling log fire, her hands curled around a cup of tea. Her hair had started to dry in little blonde ringlets around her face and her face was glowing in the heat. The baby sat on my mother's lap, draining a bottle as if it were the last meal it was every going to get. The whole scene was very cosy. Standing in the doorway I felt excluded from the tableau.
"Eric," my mother saw me hovering in the shadows. "There's tea in the pot, come and sit down." I muttered a vague thank you poured myself a large mug and sunk into a spare arm chair, stretching my aching legs out in front of me.
"So, Ali are you married?" I could not help my mother's sly glance towards my friend's ringless fingers clutching her mug. I suddenly realised how little I knew about this woman I had invited back to my parent's home. Ali looked quite upset and glanced down at the dregs of her tea, her lip trembling. Suddenly in a flash of intuition I realised there might be more to her outburst the other day then simply sleep deprivation.
"No," her voice was small, lacking the laughter that had been in it at the library. "Tess was, well she was a mistake really." My mother said nothing, but I could tell that she did not sympathise with her predicament. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. "It was, well," she gulped and her words came out in rush, falling onto our eager ears.
"I was a ballet dancer you see, with the Royal Ballet. Nothing high, I was in the corps; well we call ourselves Artistes, it is a little less degrading." She paused and I could see my mother frozen in her chair. After all being a ballet dancer was far removed from the lifestyle I am sure she had been imagining for the upset woman sitting on her living room floor.
"James was my partner, both on and off the stage and we loved each other; well it is such an intense relationship and often the reality of love and the romance of the stage tend to get merged and muddled. Just because we acted out that we loved each other on stage, we truly believed that we were in real life. It might seem silly but your life is so caught up in dancing that there is nothing else really." She gave a hollow little laugh and it ripped my heart out. I wanted to find this man and chastise him for the treatment of this woman.
From my stoic position in the chair I studied her posture and realised that with hindsight it was obvious that she was trained as a dancer. Even now, upset and wet; she held her posture perfectly, her feet delicately placed together. Her body had been so brainwashed into the way she moved that it was natural. Not dissimilar to the training given to musicians, where man and instrument became one. No wonder she was studying books on Pilates, I remembered reading that it was the exercise of choice for ballet dancers.
"It would have been okay except about a year and a half ago I injured myself, stupidly fell off a ladder and broke my leg. Of course I was out of dancing for several weeks and without the smell of greasepaint and the rigour of rehearsals, well James began to drift and I panicked. Once I was back up dancing it was okay for a bit, but I was not at my peak of fitness, wasn't dancing all the time, whilst he was promoted to a Soloist. I thought that Tess might, that a baby would bring us…." Her head bent lower and I could see the streaks of wetness running down her face. My instinct had been right; there was more to Ali's depression then Tess interrupting her nights.
"Ali," my mother's voice was gentle. "I am sorry my dear. I didn't mean to pry. Are you all right dear?"
"Yes thank you Mrs St. John," she said blinking rapidly and looking up. "I'm sorry; sometimes it is all rather overwhelming. She gave a wobbly smile and I found that it made my heart thump loudly in my chest. This woman was abandoned in love, her shit of a boyfriend obviously not caring about his girlfriend or child.
"Has he met Tess?" I asked gruffly from my chair, trying to hide the irrational wave of anger that washed through me. Her head snapped up and fire flashed in her eyes.
"No, he wants nothing to do with her. He moved out of the flat, one week before I was due; didn't bother to be there for the birth; didn't even bother to phone and find out he had for a child, instead found out from one of our friends. That is not a father, he doesn't deserve that title." There was venom in her voice.
"So where are you living now?" From the corner of my eye I noticed my mother rise from her chair, cradling the child in her arms.
"I will go and change her for you dear," she murmured as she left the room, obviously giving Ali and I some space Ali glanced over her shoulder as her child was carried from the room, anxiety briefly twisting her features, before she settled back down.
"Relax, my mother loves children," I tried to reassure. "She is desperate for Grandchildren – reminds me on regular basis." At this she let out a slight laugh.
"Oh well then, she may have Tess whenever she wants. It can all get a bit too much at times."
"Why, don't you have anyone to help you at home?"
"Not like this," Ali gestured to the room around her, the delicate wave encompassing the beautifully furnished room. "I am living in my father's house."
"So your Father is around?"
"No, I'm living in his house," she corrected. "Look, it's complicated. Basically my parents are divorced." She gave a sigh and closed her eyes and opened them fixing her stare on me. "I hardly know you Eric and here I am giving you a potted history of my life. Why?"
"Because you need someone to talk to?" I leaned forward in my chair and held her gaze. "Look Ali, talk to me if you want to. I might not know what you've been through, but I promise my life was very different a few months ago. Put it this way, I am not choosing to live with my parents. I can empathise if nothing else."
"Yeah, guess you are right there," another wayward grin peaked out as she studied my face encased in it's plastic shell, her eyes dropping to my hand that rested on my knee covered in it's neoprene bandage. "Okay, you're right, maybe I need to talk to someone. I am scared to go to the doctor, they will just stick me on antidepressants and I don't want that."
"If you let depression get hold then it is really difficult to find a way out. That is when they are useful."
"Yeah, well in my case I might never see a way out if I let myself get into that state. So what do you want to know? If you insist on being a kangaroo psychologist."
"I don't, I never said that, I just have morbid curiosity as to why you, a talented dancer seems to be sitting on my living room floor looking ready to cry her heart out and yet claim that you are not unhappy or depressed."
"I never claimed that, I just said I didn't want to tell the doctor that as I don't want to go on chill pills." She huffed slightly, before stretching her legs out in front of her, bending and flexing her feet. "Look Eric, it was really kind of you to invite me back and your Mom to look after Teresa like that for me, but I think I've outstayed my welcome and really need to get going. It's time for her nap.
No, no. Ali I know how you feel please talk to me, don't push me away. Please listen to me, talk to me. I want to get to know you better. "Okay then, I understand." I pushed myself up and stood over her, holding out my strong hand to pull her up with. She took it and rose to her feet so gracefully that I barely felt the tug on my arm.
"Thanks Eric, look, don't be sour with me. I just don't want to burden you with my problems, I'm sure you have enough of your own." We moved through to the kitchen and found my mother had sorted out the baby as she had promised.
It seemed awkward after that. The moment of intimacy had vanished and we didn't no what to say to each other. "Thank you Eric, Mrs St John," she smiled at both of us. "Hope to see you again soon."
"Come over whenever you want dear," my mother said, briefly giving her a hug. I was rather shocked, my mother never warmed to anyone that quickly usually.
"Thanks." She turned and smiled at me. "Hope to see you again sometime Eric, maybe in the coffee shop."
"Yeah, "I agreed, opening the door for her.
"Well bye," I could not place the sad note in her voice, she was obviously pissed off with me, but she was the one leaving, I wanted her to stay. And then she was gone.
My mother leant against the worksurface. "That was slightly unusual Eric, I will grant you that, but she seems a lovely girl. Are you going to see her again? Did you get her phone number?"
"No, I…" I trailed off realising my stupidity. "Oh bugger I should have, don't even know where she lives. Shit…" I ignored my mother flinching at my language as I ran out in the rain to look for Ali. She was just getting into the car as I jogged up to her and knocked on the window.
"I don't have your number," I panted, noticing that her eyes were once again full of tears. At my request she let out a wobbly smile and I typed the number into my mobile as she quoted it to me. "I'll call you, promise," I called as she pulled out the driveway, waving at me standing in the rain, not understanding how I was feeling.
"Well" my mother commented as I went back into the kitchen, once again bedraggled by the rain. "I think this might be the start of something Eric."