Chapter 3 - 'and then I was… checking out his skills. Know what I’m saying?’

Previously: Ash definitely doesn’t want to engage with art therapy, and is visited by Gloria for the first time since his admission. But there’s something about the therapist’s friend that was really quite familiar…

Esther

I don’t believe what’s just happened.

I just walked past Gloria Ramsay in the car park at The Pines, and now I have to act as if it was nothing. I have to drive to dinner and talk over food as if fate hasn’t conspired against me twice today. I have to parcel it up and add it to the box of Ash things in my head and stack it away and never let it out again. The coincidence feels almost cosmic, the task at hand, impossible. I’m actually a bit worried I might be sick.

I follow Roni to the restaurant, relieved our separate cars are providing some much needed space to process. I’m only going through the motions, not really concentrating on the directions, just driving through the forest, keeping tabs on her brake lights, wishing so badly that it hadn’t been Gloria at all, but knowing it definitely was. 

She knew it was me, too. There was a silent, split second acknowledgement between us. Lingering eyes, slightly disbelieving in the way that’ll happen when you see someone from your past, followed by quickening steps. I didn’t dare to look back; I don’t know if she did.

I park up and as we walk towards the pub, Roni reaches back, pointing the fob at her car. The lights flash as it pips and locks.

‘So, good day?’ I ask, when we’re seated. 

‘Busy,’ she says. ‘I had one-to-one sessions all day so there are notes I need to write up. The last one, though, Holy Moly! Tough crowd. Wasn’t into it at all.’

She wrinkles up her nose and pulls at some of her hair, wraps it around her finger and it springs back when she lets it go. ‘I don’t know, Esther,’ she sighs. ‘You devote so much time to helping people and sometimes you wonder if you ever really make any difference at all.’

‘Yeah, but you’re brilliant and you definitely make a difference,’ I say, and I’m sure of it. Roni has a calmness about her. A self assured way of teasing out information like she’s unpicking a knot. She puts you at ease when she does it, too. Makes you feel like you want to talk, and in any other scenario, I’d want to, so I’m completely certain her client will.

She reaches forward and squeezes my hand. ‘Thanks, my darling,’ she says. ‘I appreciate you. But I also appreciate eating so let’s flag down a waiter!’

But my mind is full of questions, firing like rounds of ammunition, so I pick the first thing my eyes land on when we order: a quattro stagione pizza. Roni goes for anchovies, chilli, and black olives on hers.

Why was Ash’s mum walking into The Pines? Was she visiting? Volunteering? Does she work there now? She and Roni didn’t seem to recognise each other at all, and surely there’d be some sort of greeting if they had? A brief nod of the head, or a wave. Even if it wasn’t appropriate to stop and chat, you’d react in some way. But there was nothing at all, and that unsettles me.

We chink our glasses when the drinks arrive.

‘It’s been too long, beloved,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘And for what? We live so close!’

‘No excuses! Let’s not leave it so long again.’ 

‘So, talk to me. How are you doing?’ she asks, and I’m unsure if she means right now, or in general. For the briefest of seconds the unsettled feeling threatens to turn to panic. Why would she mean right now? Why wouldn’t I be fine right now?

Unless she’s noticed something that’s made her think I’m not. Does she pick up on those sort of tiny cues because of her job? I’m holding the stem of my glass, twisting it between my fingers, and I worry it looks fidgety. I pull my hand away, deliberately. Fold it in my lap. Keep it there. It’s harder than I anticipated.

‘I’m fine, yeah,’ I say, exhaling. ‘Same old, you know?’

‘And Neil?’

She looks down at the table and I sit back in my seat before replying.

‘Neil’s…’ I think back to how he stalked off this morning, after telling me I’m closed off, and hasn’t spoken to me since. Hasn’t even sent a text message. About this house thing, but also about how I know he’s right about me, and the reason slapped me right in the face forty-five minutes ago. ‘Fine. Neil’s fine, too.’

‘Fine. Lovely.’

Roni smiles tightly, like she knows it’s not entirely true, or because she’s not wildly keen on Neil, or a mixture of the two, and I sip my drink and make an unnecessary comment about the nose, as if I know anything about wine. And does that even count when it’s so heavily spritzed?

‘How about you?’ I ask, and she grins and tells me she seduced the tiler who came to do her bathroom.

‘I’m not sure exactly how it even happened,’ she smirks, all wide eyes and who, me? ‘There’d been this vibe between us, you know? Then, he called me upstairs to show me how he’d spaced the tiles, and the next moment we were getting busy.’

‘Roni! What? I squeak. ‘I feel like you missed a bit?’

‘No, really! One minute I was checking out his skills, and then I was… checking out his skills. Know what I’m saying?’

She holds her hand up and we high five across the table.

‘Are you going to see him again?’ I ask.

‘Wasn’t planning to,’ she laughs. ‘But, I think maybe my kitchen might need new tiles soon.’

Our food arrives, and I want to understand, in a nonchalant sort of way, if my reaction to seeing Gloria is normal, so I use our plates of carbs and cheese as a distraction and pick at some artichoke as I ask:

‘Roni, have you ever seen someone you knew years ago and not known how to react?’

She looks thoughtful as she chews.

‘Er, not that I can pinpoint right now. ‘Why? The Ghost of Christmas Past shown up?’

‘You could say that,’ I say.

‘Should’ve said hi. Did they see you? Who was it?’

‘Just someone I knew when I was at school,’ I say. ‘And, yes she did.’

Roni nods her head and shrugs.

‘She probably didn’t know what to say either. A missed opportunity, unless, of course, you weren’t on good terms, in which case, enjoy your peace.’

‘I guess so,’ I say, but I don’t feel peaceful; Gloria and I were always good.

In any case, just because she was walking into The Pines, doesn’t mean she was visiting anyone I ever knew. Could be a friend. Could be a cousin or a niece or nephew, and that thought reminds me of something else; I met her niece and nephew at a family barbecue. Ash kept bringing me burgers and spicy chicken and glasses of rum punch until I was tipsy and talkative, which he found hilarious. I fell asleep on his lap on the way home and Gloria let me stay over.

Maybe she was there for the same reason I was. Or maybe it was Ash’s brother, Tyler. Maybe he’s unwell. Maybe he works there? Or maybe Gloria’s getting therapy. Many, many possibilities that are not the one I suspect.

‘Hey, random question, do they have any late evening therapy appointments at The Pines?’

‘Not really, everything stops by five thirty, then there’s free time and dinner and then social stuff or a meeting.’

‘I meant for the public.’

‘Oh! Well, no. It’s a residential facility. They don’t offer outpatient appointments.’ She pauses and looks at me, intently. ‘Things alright, Esther? Do you need to talk to someone?’

‘No, I wasn’t asking for me. I’m all good. Why?’

I decide not to tell her about Gloria. Because if I say I saw my ex-boyfriend’s mother walking into her workplace the next logical question is who that ex-boyfriend is. Roni doesn’t know about Ash, and once dating someone who is now really quite famous isn’t the sort of thing you casually drop into conversation after years of friendship.

‘Because,’ she gestures with her hands. ‘I don’t know. You seem a bit… like you have something on your mind. It probably wouldn’t be ethical for us to talk, but, I can put you in touch with people, if you like?’

‘Ah, I was just asking out of curiosity. Honestly. Throwaway thought.’ 

Roni’s shoulders drop in a way that suggests she’s suddenly more comfortable. 

‘But actually there was something that happened today,’ I say, and pour us both a glass of water from the carafe on the table. ‘Neil wants us to buy a house.’

‘Esther! What? Why didn’t you say before? This is great!’

Seeing her reaction, so genuine and warm, gives me a lurch of excitement. And yet;

‘I’m overwhelmed,’ I admit, and feel disloyal for it. ‘So maybe that’s why I seemed off. He mentioned upsizing, and said we could revisit the life plan.’

‘Well, I’m not touching the “life plan”,’ Roni says, making air quotes. She thinks Neil’s life plan is a load of old shit. ‘But there’s an obvious conclusion to jump to, and I think you’re already there.’

‘Starting a family?’ I say, tentatively, and it sounds silly as I say it.

‘I mean, that’s where my mind went. Have you talked about it?’ she asks.

‘No. But he got all coy, and I got all coy.’

‘Sounds like there was a lot of coyness. Which is okay, you know; when we start having that sort of chat, there’s an element of flirtation. Because we all know how babies are made, but, just make sure it doesn’t actually translate to skirting around big conversations.’

‘I’m just surprised there would be any conversations.’

‘Yeah. No shade, but he’s never really seemed to be the sort of man to seduce, you know?’

‘Unlike a certain tiler,’ I laugh. ‘I actually meant because of how much he loves the order of his plans.’

‘Well, people can change their minds,’ she says, shrugging. ‘Though, I do understand why you’d be surprised in this instance.’

‘Exactly, Roni,’ I say. ‘And while that’s all well and good and lovely–’

‘There’s something not sitting right with you.’

I make a face and look across the restaurant.

‘It’s because change isn’t comfortable,’ she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

She rips a little piece off some leftover crust and pops it into her mouth, and I want to say something, but I can’t immediately find the words. ‘He’s offered up something big here,’ she continues. ‘So of course you’re out of your comfort zone. But look at it like this: he offered you big changes before, and those were probably uncomfortable at the time as well, but you took them, and here you are, living them. Those changes have become your comfort.’

God, she’s good.

‘So what I’m saying is, you’ve got this. But the fact you’re listening to that feeling of discomfort is a good thing. Not everyone has that level of self awareness.’

She finishes her glass of water and dabs at her mouth with her napkin. ‘I think you should go all in. A new place is exciting. Somewhere to put your stamp on. Be nice to see some of your photos up as well.’

‘Those were mentioned, too.’

‘Perfect! He wants to put down some proper roots with you, baby,’ she says. ‘And it sounds like he doesn’t take a shit without planning it first, so you know it’s not a rash decision.’

This is a fair assessment, and, bodily functions aside, she isn’t wide of the mark. I’ve seen him crunch numbers, calculate risk and factor in a generous percentage to cover the unexpected. And that was only over a trip to Ikea, where the unexpected was scented candles and miniature Daim bars. 

‘You know, I think that’s exactly it, Ron; it’s his plan. He wants to stay int he same area, and he wants to upsize, and he’ll have done a lot of maths. It’s almost like he’ll call the shots, and I’ll be expected to go along with it.’

‘Then take up your space. Call some of your own shots. Make yourself heard. This ain’t the Titanic. If you see the iceberg in the distance, you’ll change course, right? If you feel like that, change it.’

‘Right. Yes,’ I agree.

‘But also, promise me you’ll examine why you feel like that.’

But I know why. I don’t need to examine it. The last time I fully gave myself to someone, he called a very big shot, blindsiding me completely, and it fucked me right up. So now I guard my heart, and I keep a whole lot of myself back. And Neil’s never asked for more of me, until today. I feel vulnerable.

She squeezes my hand again, and it’s comforting. ‘These are all positive steps, Esther my love, so go with it. I have a feeling you’ll find somewhere perfect, and all those worries will just fall away.’

We say goodbye in the car park.

‘Same again next month?’ I ask. The air is cool and still damp from the rain. An owl hoots from somewhere close by. Headlights from a passing car beam a bright stripe on the road.

‘Yes. Text me some dates. And, how easy was meeting at work? We can do that again if Thursdays work for you?’

I swallow hard. What’s the likelihood of bumping into Gloria again if I do? Slim, I imagine, but probably not quite slim enough. ‘Definitely.’ 

And then because I have to know, I hear myself say, ‘Oh, Roni, just out of interest, do you work with someone called Tyler? At The Pines.’

She turns back towards me and looks puzzled.

‘No,’ she says. ‘Not that I know of, anyway. Why?’

‘Someone I work with mentioned a guy called Tyler,’ I lie, thankful my reddening face is hidden in the dusky twilight. ‘Must have got mixed up. No worries.’

‘Okay, well, see you soon,’ she says. ‘It’s been real,’ and she blows me a kiss.

The security light floods the driveway as I pull in, and cracks of light through the curtains in the sitting room suggest Neil’s still up. Sure enough, when he hears my key turn in the lock he calls out.

‘Hey,’ I answer. I hang my jacket up on the hook, slip off my shoes and take my bag through to the kitchen. His neoprene lunch bag is on the side and his water bottle has been emptied and left to drain. The kettle’s recently boiled. There’s a cup with a herbal tea bag in it waiting for me on the side. I feel a rush of fondness at the gesture. It’s kind. A peace offering.

The lamp in the corner is on in the lounge and he’s lounging on the sofa, legs crossed at the ankle, watching something on catch up. He pauses it when I sink down onto the sofa next to him. It’s homely and cosy.

‘Good evening?’

‘Great evening,’ I say. ‘They’ve updated the menu at that pub in Lyndhurst. It’s basically a pizzeria now.’

‘Good news,’ he says, and he taps the remote, unfreezing the television screen. 

‘I’m sorry about this morning,’ I offer, taking his hand.

He shrugs. ‘Forget it. If you’re not ready then you’re not ready.’

‘I am,’ I say, and he blinks at me. ‘I want to. It’s a great idea. Let’s make a plan this weekend. But let’s work it all out together. ’

I look around the room and imagine all our stuff transported somewhere we owned. Photos I’ve taken framed and thoughtfully placed on the walls instead of just sitting on hard drives. A snug little nook in a bay window where I can pull a blanket around myself and read. A box of colourful toys in the corner for a child who is ours.

Neil refocuses on the TV. He’s too far through the programme for me to catch up and he won’t want to pause it to explain. 

‘Think I’m going to head up,’ I say, pulling myself out of my daydream. ‘You coming?’

He looks at his watch. ‘Twenty minutes,’ he says.