Chapter Eighteen
June 2016
Lydia resolutely refused any subtle suggestion from Anita that she should keep her distance from Theo, that she could take it from here. Instead, Lydia hired a car every weekend following her initial visit to the care home.
As the spring months rolled on, the June summer solstice passed and the flowers in full bloom marked the start of July, the time when many people jetted off on their annual summer holidays. Theo was much the same, still in a persistent vegetative state, a description Lydia would rarely use out loud. He was there, but not really there; existing, but not living. Lydia corresponded with Anita as briefly as possible, conveying information on the times she’d be visiting, days she’d be around in Suffolk and days when she’d be safely tucked away in Bath so Anita could rule the roost as she so loved to do. Lydia found a gorgeous bed and breakfast with the most delightful of hosts, and each time she came to see Theo, she’d look for changes. But apart from him looking thinner and his hair still in the ridiculous boyish cut he was regularly given, he was the same. No change.
Graham had been over for a fortnight’s visit but Lydia hadn’t crossed paths with him. Since she’d found out about Christopher, Lydia thought about Graham and Anita in a slightly different light. They were two parents facing a crisis, an unimaginable pain, and it wasn’t for the first time. She’d thought about contacting Graham, but had decided against it, respecting his likely need to work through this on his own. She didn’t want to meddle, she didn’t want him to see her pass judgement on the decisions Anita was making.
When she was home in Bath, Lydia took to hibernating and not socialising with anyone. She hadn’t gone out with Sally in weeks and Sally had been round to the house on more than one occasion to see whether she was okay. Each time Lydia had plastered a smile on her face and insisted she was fine, and although Sally surely knew she was lying, Lydia just wanted to be left alone. Her mind didn’t have room for much apart from work, fixing meals and keeping up with the housework. Up until now she’d dusted around the things on Theo’s bedside table – two one pound coins probably pulled from his trousers before they went into the bag for dry cleaning, a thriller with the bookmark in the same place as it had been months ago – but when she knocked the book off and the bookmark tumbled out, losing his place, she cried in a ball on the floor before pulling herself together and finally tidying his things away into the drawer. At least that way she didn’t have to look at them, wondering whether he’d ever touch them again. Last night had been the first time her body had ventured onto his side of the bed and she’d woken with the gnawing feeling that every time life moved on of its own accord, she would feel as though she was being torn apart all over again.
One weekend on her way back from the care home, the events that had unfolded since December hit Lydia like a head-on collision: unexpected, with no warning at all. An overwhelming feeling of devastation, a contrast to the bright, cheerful sun in the sky that day, took over, and she had to pull in at the side of the road when tears blurred her vision. Nothing had changed with Theo, but that day something within her broke as she said goodbye yet again and out of nowhere she began grieving properly, for the life she’d led before the accident, for the boyfriend she’d once had. When she got home she phoned work and said she was sick and wouldn’t be back for a while. She barely got out of bed for the next few days, she wasn’t eating, she was losing weight, and it was only one rainy day when Sally knocked at the door and burst into tears herself, that Lydia realised she needed to get her act together.
The two friends cried, they hugged, they laughed when they could, they ate and Lydia returned to work by the end of the week where she was plunged into the office environment full steam ahead with her research on interrailing through Europe. Sally had talked a lot of sense and Lydia felt comforted, not alone, and she sailed through her days at work, sifting through the plethora of information she’d collected from contacts in Italy, France and Spain, finally pulling together a meaningful article she was proud of.
She was about to click out of her email and check the rest later when one email in particular caught her eye. It was from Connor. And all it said was ‘Are you okay?’
Lydia sat back in her chair and looked over at Ian’s office, glass walls allowing her to see him pondering something at his desk. He wouldn’t have said anything to Connor about Theo, would he? And did he know that Connor had kissed her on the night out a while ago? And how had Connor got her email address?
The ping of another email made her jump and spooked her because it was another from Connor asking her out for lunch.
She went back to the interrailing write-up and ran a spellcheck, then she made a cup of tea, but after half an hour knew she was being rude to not even acknowledge the email and so typed out a short reply saying that she couldn’t meet him as she had too much work on. But it seemed he wouldn’t take no for an answer. The next email came through so quickly she wondered if he’d anticipated her reply and already typed his response, which said that everyone needed to eat. In the end, Lydia gave up fighting it and decided it would be better to see him now, when she expected it, than bump into him in the street, or worse, have him come into the office for some reason to see Ian and then her face would give everything away.
They agreed to meet at Pret A Manger, buy sandwiches and go over to the park and as Lydia walked there she found she was actually looking forward to it. It was a lunch with someone new, with someone who hopefully didn’t know her whole sorry story, and that alone would be refreshing.
She was first at the sandwich place and had already bought a mature cheddar sandwich with pickle and fresh tomatoes, so she waited outside in the sunshine for Connor to choose something. She watched him as he progressed forward in the queue, quite dashing in a well-cut suit, his blond hair neatly cropped but not enough to make him look old, just enough to be office-ready. His skin was more tanned than the night they’d met at the bar and as he paid for his order and emerged into the bright sunlight, he pulled shades down across those mischievous blue eyes of his.
They chatted as they walked and Lydia was pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t at all awkward. She asked after his new niece and he extolled the virtues of being an uncle. Apparently it had all of the nice bits and none of the hard work. She asked why he was in a suit and he told her he worked temporarily as a telemarketer until he could find a suitable position as a vet. ‘It’s boring as hell,’ he said, ‘but I need the cash.’
When they reached the park they nabbed an empty bench and sat next to each other at one end, avoiding the bird poo at the other.
‘So…’ He unwrapped his sandwich. ‘I haven’t bumped into you in All Bar One again since that night.’
She felt her cheeks warming. With her dark skin it was pretty hard to tell if she was blushing, but all she could think about when he mentioned it was the kiss. ‘I’ve not been out much lately.’
‘Avoiding lecherous men like me?’
She laughed. ‘Not at all, and you’re not lecherous.’ She hooked her hair behind her ears so she didn’t get a mouthful of it as she ate her sandwich. It was a beautiful sunny day but there was a definite breeze on the air that was pleasant but not completely conducive to eating outside. ‘Just out of interest, how did you get my email address?’
‘It wasn’t hard.’
‘Did you ask Ian for it?’
‘I looked on the website and under employees it has your full name, so I used Ian’s email address but substituted his name for yours and bingo. Would you rather I hadn’t got in touch?’
‘Not at all. This is nice.’
‘How was your head the morning after the night at the bar?’
‘A bit sore. It was the champagne and the dreaded mixing of drinks.’
He nodded and he picked up the other half of his sandwich. ‘It had to be done and I never drink champagne with the lads.’
‘No, not the sort of round you’d buy, is it?’
‘So what else have you been up to? Ian can’t have kept you that busy at work, so you must’ve been doing other things.’ The way he said it suggested Ian hadn’t divulged anything and she was glad.
‘Oh this and that, you know how it is.’
An elderly man was just about to lower himself onto the other end of the bench until Lydia said ‘no’ and explained about the bird poo.
‘Here, have these seats.’ She stood up. ‘We’re off for a walk anyway.’ Somehow she suspected it’d be easier to talk to Connor if they walked side by side and he couldn’t just turn in his seat and stare at her.
They walked along, finishing their sandwiches and depositing the rubbish into a nearby bin. They talked some more about Bath and how Connor had grown up in Surrey until his parents had relocated and they talked about siblings, university days, and Connor’s job. When they came to the café Connor bought two cans of Coke and they took them outside to sit at a table and soak up the sunshine.
‘On days like this I want to go back to work even less.’ He lounged back in his chair, face tilted to the sun. ‘Cooped up in an office doing something tedious when you could be outside is just wrong.’
‘No wonder you have such a good tan. Is this what you do every lunchtime?’
‘Pretty much, when it’s nice weather. I’ve never been one to eat lunch at my desk, can’t stand it. When I was working as a vet I’d always take a walk, rain or shine, and eat my sandwich on the move.’
‘I sometimes eat at my desk for speed.’
‘It’s not healthy.’ He smiled though and now the sun had moved and their table was partly shaded, he put his sunglasses on top of his head. ‘What about hobbies? You must have some of those.’
She felt like she was about to get a grilling as though this were a speed date and he was about to decide whether he’d like to contact her again.
‘I like dancing.’
‘Yeah? What sort of dancing? It doesn’t involve a pole, does it?’
‘Cheeky git!’ She punched his arm playfully. ‘I’m a contemporary dancer.’
‘I’ll show my ignorance now, what exactly is contemporary dance?’
‘It’s a mixture of a few disciplines from classical ballet to jazz and modern. It’s more free flowing and expressive. I started out, like all little girls, doing ballet but I don’t really have the build for it. I reached grade three and I’d had enough. I moved on to jazz, which I loved, and I did a bit of tap and then the dance school I went to started up its first contemporary class and I was hooked.’
‘How often do you go?’
‘I used to go all the time.’ She smiled, the warm sun on her back, and sipped her Coke. ‘At university, when exam stress was getting to me I’d head down to the dance studio. I carried on in London when I was working as a journalist and took part in a couple of concerts, and then it was great to be able to dance most days when I was freelancing from home.’
His blue eyes were trained on her and she knew what he was going to say. ‘How often do you go now?’
She looked back at him, and in an effort to hide any telltale signs she pulled her shades over her eyes. ‘I’m busier now.’ She looked at her watch but didn’t register the time. ‘Speaking of which, I’d better get back or Ian will be on the warpath.’
Connor put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m not stupid. There’s something you’re not telling me.’ He tugged a hand through his hair as realisation seemed to hit. ‘I’m so stupid. You’re with someone, aren’t you? That’s why you ran off from the pub that night after I kissed you, and that’s who you spend all your time with.’ He patted the table with both hands and stood up. ‘I think that’s my cue to leave.’
‘Connor, wait.’
Without malice he told her, ‘Don’t worry about it, Lydia. It’s fine, it’s life.’
Before he could walk away, she moved in front of him and blocked his escape. The night they’d kissed she never would’ve uttered a word about Theo, but since the last week when she’d really hit rock-bottom, or lower if it was possible, she felt differently. She didn’t fall apart when she thought about Theo now, she didn’t bawl her eyes out trying to explain to anyone that there was no change and that she blamed herself for prolonging the agony he must surely be in, if not physically, perhaps mentally. I mean, nobody knew, did they? Nobody knew what patients in a coma or vegetative state could hear, sense or feel. Not for certain.
‘I need to tell you the truth, Connor.’ She had a hand on his forearm, warm from the sunshine above them.
‘Lydia, we barely know each other. You don’t owe me any explanations at all.’ His kind smile confirmed it. It was time to tell him.
‘Please. I’ll buy you a slice of that monstrous chocolate cake you were eyeing up inside if you’ll just give me ten minutes of your time to tell you everything.’
His smile was back. ‘You’ve got yourself a deal.’
And over a slice of cake Connor insisted he share with Lydia, she told him everything. Just the same as she’d told Ian except with a hell of a lot more control and maturity and without any tears. And even though she was so late back to work she missed a meeting, it had been worth it.
*
By September, Lydia was beginning to believe the saying that time heals all wounds. Last December she would’ve claimed it was a load of rubbish, but since meeting up with Connor three months ago, and her admissions about Theo, it was as though her mind had managed to untangle the mess it had got into since the accident and she was starting to move forwards.
Connor and Lydia began meeting up once a week for lunch. The weather was changeable now they were into September, but if it was sunny they went to the park and if it was raining they found a café nearby and talked over bowls of soup and hot cups of tea or coffee. She hadn’t spoken to Ian about Theo again but Connor became a good friend and he often asked after him. And strangely, they hadn’t kissed since that very first time. Whether he was afraid to now he knew her situation, Lydia had no idea. But their friendship was strong and for that she was grateful. It was a different friendship to her one with Sally. Sally knew all her history, she and Connor were still getting to know one another, and being a man he didn’t get overly sympathetic if she was feeling down. He was more likely to clip her around the ear and tell her to pick herself up and carry on; and his original approach, compared to other people who watched what they said around her, was refreshing and helpful in its own peculiar way.
Lydia had been going up to the care home every three weeks and had begun to get more normality back into her everyday life. The care home was what it was and Anita, Grace and Lydia had personalised Theo’s room some more, adding photos dotted around, a different colour duvet cover to brighten the place up and even positioned the yucca plant in the corner, the plant he’d had since his teenage years but had never got around to taking down to Bath. She still talked to Theo about work because she was loving her job. She’d never thought it possible to say that about work, she certainly never had the same feelings for her journalist job in London, but the fit with this position was ideal. She loved the challenge, the fact she was discovering so much about the world. She’d never yearned to travel but it was already giving her itchy feet and when Sally had asked her again about the ski trip she’d been tempted.
‘Please say you’ll come.’ Sally begged. They’d already booked it for her and Gerry but they were staying in self-catering accommodation that had one bedroom and a fold-out bed in the lounge area so could easily fit her in.
‘I really appreciate the offer.’ Lydia used the spaghetti spoon to divide the pasta between two bowls and Sally did the honours by ladling out the home-cooked bolognese sauce. Lydia had returned to cooking, something she found she was enjoying more and more, and she’d found a wonderful recipe that required three hours of simmering, so with the rain lashing against the windows outside it was a cosy night in at her place, with time for a good gossip.
‘But…’ Sally prompted.
Lydia handed Sally a grater and a wedge of parmesan. ‘Make yourself useful.’
‘I will if you give me a straight answer. And I don’t want excuses, I want real reasons.’ She began grating the cheese.
Lydia took down two red wine glasses and set them on the bench. ‘Skiing isn’t my thing and before you say anything, I know I don’t have to ski, but I think it’s time you stopped trying to look after me as if I was going to break.’
Sally’s eyes widened.
‘You do, so don’t argue.’
‘You’re my friend, that’s why, and that’s what friends do.’
‘Do you honestly want me tagging along with you and Gerry on your romantic getaway?’
‘Both of us are very happy for you to come.’
Lydia suspected it was the truth. She poured two glasses of the same red wine they’d poured into the meaty mixture and they took the bowls of pasta, now topped with grated parmesan, over to the table.
‘You’ve really looked after me over the last nine months,’ Lydia continued. ‘I am more appreciative of that than you’ll ever know, but I think it’s time for me to spread my wings a bit.’
Sally grinned. ‘Does this have anything to do with a certain gorgeous blond?’
Lydia smiled right back. ‘As a matter of fact, it does. But not in the way you think.’
‘But you see him all the time.’
‘I do. We’ve become great friends.’ She twirled her fork against a spoon to gather all the pasta neatly on top. ‘He’s a top guy.’ Sally looked so excited Lydia had to put her out of her misery. ‘We’re not anything more than friends, but he did something for me yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘He took me down to the new dance school that’s opened up. He’s been asking me about dancing over and over during our lunches together and with his limited knowledge about my experience he booked me in for a one to one session with a top dance coach and I had my first lesson since December.’
Sally’s mouth fell open. ‘Lydia, that’s fantastic!’
‘Oh don’t start crying.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ve just been so worried about you. If I ever see Connor again I’m going to buy him a magnum of champagne because what he’s done for you is nothing short of spectacular. And I couldn’t manage it.’
‘Don’t be daft, you did everything you could for me and he just came in at the right time and gave me a nudge in a different direction.’
‘So how did it feel to be back on the dance floor?’
Lydia inhaled deeply. ‘It was the best.’ They exchanged a look that spoke volumes of their friendship and collapsed into giggles when Sally’s prowess with her fork and spoon gave way to simply shovelling spaghetti into her mouth inelegantly like a kid who was tackling the stuff for the first time.
‘I’m going to get a photo of you like that and send it to Gerry,’ Lydia laughed.
‘Don’t you dare!’
And just like that, Lydia felt, for once, that she was right back on track.