She looks about her. The room is broken into cosy nooks and crannies; the air is filled with beer, voices and laughter.
Anna echoes her thoughts. ‘I like it here – it’s just what I needed.’
‘Shall we go there?’ Lou gestures towards an alcove. Two high-backed leather benches face each other on either side of a narrow table.
Anna slips off her mackintosh and as she edges into her seat, Lou realizes it’s the first time she has seen her without her coat on. She is dressed simply in a black skirt and polo-neck jumper, but it’s the set of huge, polished stone beads around her neck that lifts the outfit from the mundane. It takes confidence to put together clothes like this, Lou thinks, and it’s all the more impressive given what Anna has been through. Taking a seat opposite, Lou feels scruffy, conscious her outfit has been randomly flung together. Still, now is not the moment to fret about appearances, and Lou is more interested in what goes on inside most people anyway. Nonetheless, she doesn’t want to launch straight in and stir up Anna’s worries – that would be tactless. She wants Anna to take the lead. So she just reiterates, ‘Work was OK, then?’
Anna nods. ‘I guess I can’t complain. I appreciate not being that taxed at the moment.’
‘Sure.’
‘And the people I work with are very nice, but I find it’s easier sometimes not to tell them everything that’s going on. Allows me to separate it off, if you know what I mean?’
Lou smiles. ‘I do indeed.’ If only Anna knew just how much I identify with that, she thinks. Yet she doesn’t feel it’s appropriate to explain everything that’s been going on for her that week – Anna has enough to deal with. Instead she says, ‘This was a really nice idea.’
‘Mm . . . It’s lovely to come to a pub and not have to worry—’ Anna breaks off.
Lou is convinced she was about to reveal more, but is not sure what. She tries another route. ‘So tell me, what brought you to Brighton?’
‘Ooh, it’s a long story’ – Anna sits back – ‘but I’ll try to keep it short.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Well, for many years, I was with the same guy, Neil. We lived in London – and it was nice, but a bit too nice. Safe, if you know what I mean.’
‘Yes.’ Lou understands completely.
‘I mean, Neil was lovely – don’t get me wrong. And he was very successful. In fact, he spoilt me rotten. I do miss that.’ Just for a moment Anna looks bereft. ‘To a large extent, I had a lot, materially. A beautiful flat, fast car, good job . . .’ She drifts off, remembering. So that’s where the expensive tastes come from, thinks Lou. ‘But I guess I just got bored. Not that it manifested itself that way. To be honest, I began having panic attacks. I don’t know if you’ve ever had them?’
‘No.’ Lou shakes her head.
‘I didn’t know what they were, initially. It was very alarming. I would feel like I couldn’t breathe, go all dizzy, like I had vertigo or something – once I even fainted on the Tube.’
‘How horrible.’
‘Yes, and what was really scary was it seemed so random – I could never tell when it was going to happen. Eventually, it got so bad, I went to see my GP, and he referred me to a therapist.’
‘Did that help?’
‘Kind of, yes. I won’t bore you with all the detail, but together we worked out that I was claustrophobic, in the broadest sense. My life, my work, my relationship, everything – were constraining me. So I decided to make some big changes. I didn’t want to have children with Neil – that must have been a sign – whereas by that stage he wanted them with me. But I just couldn’t imagine it, living a pristine life in this big Georgian house, working in advertising and everything.’ She shudders. ‘It seemed heinous.’
Wow, thinks Lou. So I was right. Anna isn’t what she seems.
‘So I left him.’ Anna shakes her head, as if still incredulous she did it.
‘That must have taken some doing.’
‘I guess so. But I thought I’d go mad, if I stayed. I’m sure I would have. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Sure.’ Again Lou comprehends only too well. But she can illuminate Anna later – right now she wants more. She leans forward, and Anna continues.
‘Then I was left wondering where to go and what to do. When I started to think about it all, I decided to unravel everything. I was sick of London, that whole rat race thing. Everyone trying to outdo each other in the salary stakes, working stupid hours – you know. So I jacked in my job, went freelance. I decided I wanted a change of scene, too. I’d been at university here, years before, so I knew and liked the place. And Brighton’s not so far from London, as you know, so it made it possible to get up there for work. But I guess in the end it was having Karen and Simon here that drew me back – they persuaded me. Karen has been in Brighton since college – she never left – it’s where we met, and she and Simon got together soon after. So I bought a little house near them and the rest, as they say, is history.’
Now Anna has revealed this much, Lou is even more curious about her current partner. What kind of man would she go for now? she wonders. But she doesn’t want Anna to think she’s prying. Anyway, now it’s probably her turn and if she opens up herself, then Anna might elaborate.
Anna gives her the cue. ‘So what brought you to Brighton? I take it you didn’t grow up here?’
She has been very frank, Lou thinks; I should return the compliment. But she’s nearing the end of her glass and could do with another if she’s going to dredge up the past. ‘It’s quite a tale, I suppose,’ she says. ‘Shall I get another round in first?’
‘Sure,’ agrees Anna. ‘But it’s my turn. I fancy some crisps, too. Do you?’
* * *
Several minutes later, Anna is back. Lou puts down her mobile – she’s just been sending a text to Howie about Friday.
‘Didn’t seem to get served quite as fast as you,’ Anna observes wryly. ‘So, you were saying?’
Lou takes a deep breath. ‘I guess, in a nutshell, I came to get away from my family.’
‘Ah.’
‘Maybe that’s a bit strong, but to get away from my mother, certainly, after my father died.’
‘That was a while ago, you said?’
‘Nearly ten years ago now. Cancer.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Anna feels bad for having led Lou here. Death seems to surround them.
‘Anyhow, I grew up in Hitchin, in Hertfordshire. Do you know it?’
Anna shakes her head.
‘It’s the sort of place England is full of. A market town, pretty, but, God – to use your word – claustrophobic as hell. Specially if, like me, you’re gay.’
Aha, thinks Anna. I’m glad that’s out there. She had known, but nonetheless, it will be easier now it’s been said.
Lou scratches her head, as if it will help formulate the right words, and sighs. ‘The last few months of my father’s life, he was very sick. So I went home to help my mother look after him. And I stayed on a few months after he died, to help my mother get back on her feet. Actually, I suggested her that she set up a B&B, to take her mind off being alone.’
‘Did she do it?’
Lou nods. ‘Yes, she still runs it now.’
‘That was very good of you to look after her, and your father, all that time,’ says Anna. ‘Have you no brothers or sisters?’
‘A younger sister, Georgia.’
‘So why were you the one to help?’
‘Good question.’ Lou laughs, sardonic. ‘She’s married, with children. And I’m the eldest; the one expected to be dutiful.’ Single daughter becomes carer – it is a common pattern. ‘I needed to get away, and after six months of living with her I was beginning to crawl the walls. Like you, I left. Obviously my reasons for choosing Brighton were a little different. But I’d friends here, like you. And I wanted to be somewhere with a scene I could be part of, feel at home. I never felt at home where I grew up.’
Anna wants to complete the picture. ‘So what led you to counselling?’
‘I did voluntary work with the homeless, initially. I dealt with a lot of addicts, especially alcoholics.’ Anna blanches at the word; wonders if Lou has noticed, but Lou is either too involved in her story, or too polite, to register surprise at Anna’s reaction. Lou carries on, ‘I became fascinated by what led them down that path – made them so self-destructive. So I thought I’d train properly as a counsellor, which I did. I finished my training last year. Then I got the job at the school in Hammersmith at the start of the autumn term. I still work with the homeless, though, every Friday afternoon.’
We come full circle, thinks Anna. It’s enough to make her believe in Fate. It makes her wonder if perhaps there are other reasons they have been brought together. ‘I wish Karen could meet you,’ she says suddenly.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ She pauses briefly to consider. ‘I think it would be really helpful for her to talk to you.’
‘Do you – why?’
‘I don’t know.’ Anna tries to explain. ‘It’s a gut instinct more than anything. But she feels so guilty, and what with your being a counsellor and all . . .’
‘Maybe.’
‘Would you mind if I suggested it?’
‘No, not at all. I’d love to be able to help.’
‘I think it’s a really good idea.’
‘But there’s no rush. Now may not be the best time. Perhaps you should leave it a while.’
Anna is impatient to act. ‘I’m going to call her.’
‘Are you sure? She’s got a lot on at the moment.’
‘I agree, but it can do no harm to ask.’ Anna opens her mobile. She has Karen on speed dial and the children will be in bed. Karen answers on almost the first ring and Anna gets straight to the point. ‘Karen. I’m going to suggest something to you. And before you say no, hear me out.’
‘OK.’
‘Why don’t you have a chat with the woman I met on the train I mentioned to you yesterday? The one who was sitting near you?’
‘What good will that do?’ Karen sounds mystified.
‘Because. . .’ Anna hesitates, half wishing she’d heeded Lou’s advice to wait. This is not a conversation she’s planned and she is still working out the rationale. ‘Well, for several reasons.’
‘Yes?’
‘Mm. Firstly, because Lou, she’s called, saw everything that happened.’
‘You said,’ says Karen slowly. ‘Must have been awful for her.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’ Anna is frustrated but struggles to mask it. She wishes her friend would stop putting others first, just for once. ‘Of course, you’re right – I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing to witness, and I don’t mean to be hard, honey, but it’s never the same, an experience like that, if you don’t know the person. Lou didn’t know Simon, obviously.’
‘I guess,’ Karen relents.
‘Which is my point, really. Lou might help you be a bit more, well, objective about it.’
‘Objective! Why would I want to be more objective about losing my husband!?’
Anna has blundered. Now Karen is even more upset – and rightly so: Anna must have seemed horribly uncaring. This is such a sensitive area, how can she explain herself properly? Surely it’s best to be honest. ‘I just hate the way you’re blaming yourself so much.’
‘I see.’
But Anna can tell Karen is still unsure. And really, that’s no surprise. She has so much on her mind maybe Lou was right; maybe it is too soon to suggest this. Perhaps it would be better saved till more time has elapsed and Karen is through the worst. Yet Anna isn’t ready to give up. ‘Lou is a counsellor. And I’m not saying you need counselling, but she does know something about bereavement. And she works with kids, too. Who knows, she might even be able to help you with Molly and Luke.’
‘Oh,’ says Karen, her tone of voice changing.
Anna can hear curiosity now, so attempts to clinch it. ‘I know she’d be happy to talk to you.’
But her enthusiasm seems to have the opposite effect. ‘How do you know?’ The doubt is back.
‘I saw her on the train today,’ Anna confesses.
‘By coincidence?’
‘No, actually, I texted her.’ Anna realizes Karen won’t want to feel as though Anna has been discussing her misfortune with a stranger, so she spells it out: ‘I owed her some money for the cab we got into London.’
‘Ah.’ The tone is interested once more. ‘But what makes you think she’d want to speak to me?’
‘She offered,’ says Anna, bluntly. She can’t be circumspect any longer, though she doesn’t think it appropriate to say they are out together right at that moment in the pub. She hopes Karen can’t tell from the background noise. ‘She asked after you, as anyone would. So I told her you were handling everything really well – which of course you are, magnificently. But – and I hope you don’t mind – I did say that you felt it was your fault. And she said, no, it wasn’t. In any way.’
‘Oh.’
There is a prolonged silence. Karen is clearly absorbing it all.
‘OK,’ she relents. ‘If it’ll make you happy.’
Again Anna struggles to be clear. ‘It would. But only because I think it might help you.’
‘OK, OK. I suppose I’ve got nothing more to lose, have I?’
‘No,’ she acknowledges. ‘I guess you haven’t.’
I’m not going home tonight, the note says, decided to stay in Brighton. Fancy going for a swim and picnic on the beach?
Hurriedly, Karen folds the piece of paper, before her colleagues can see. She looks around to check no one is watching, glances up at Simon.
He’s grinning, eyebrow raised.
Her stomach lurches. She fancies him soo much – she is powerless to resist. How can she possibly? She knows it’s wrong: he has a girlfriend – he lives with her, for goodness’ sake – and what they’re doing is unfair, cruel. She is not sure what he has said to his girlfriend to wangle a night away and she doesn’t want to know. She would hate it if it was done to her – she has never seen herself as the kind of girl who would steal another woman’s man. She and Anna have always been most disapproving about women who do that, arguing through college and beyond that there are plenty of available men out there, that it is quite unnecessary to go for those who are already spoken for. But she has liked Simon since the day she started this job, and he is the one who initiated this whole thing. He is the one who blew her away with a clandestine kiss at the office summer party just a week ago, who asked if he could come back and stay at hers afterwards; he is the one who doubtless made unconvincing excuses when he returned home the next day. And it only took that single night to open this Pandora’s box of mutual passion; being together was far, far better than it should have been, were it only a one-night stand. Plus, from the way he has been since – more than just flirtatious, snatching moments to be with her that are quite uncalled for given they work in different departments, even once stroking her arm when they had a few seconds alone – Karen senses that he really likes her.
She nods, quickly, surreptitiously, and two hours later they are headed in his car towards Hove, several miles from their office in Kemptown, but risky nonetheless. She watches Simon’s profile as he drives, concentrating, but he keeps turning to her, and every time he does so, he is smiling. He doesn’t seem to care, and she wonders if, actually, he wants to be caught. In some ways she does, because she knows, already, albeit crazily swiftly, that she wants more of this man, that once was never, ever going to be enough.
They stop off at a Greek supermarket and run in to buy food and wine. In the cold light of day it is a grotty little shop, but this isn’t the cold light of day, it is a magical July evening; the world is bathed in the warm peachy glow of seven o’clock sunlight, and everything, everyone, looks stunning, including this funny, down-at-heel grocery store. Inside, it is as if a haven of seductive delicacies is offering itself up to them. So what would normally seem a fairly conventional se
lection of staple foods and cheap alcohol becomes a cornucopia of delights – hummus, taramasalata, olives, stuffed vine leaves, pitta bread – and they are utterly spoilt for choice. It will all, inevitably, taste delicious. Rapidly, they fill a basket, add a bottle of wine – they are agreed, it should be bubbly, chilled, and why not rosé? It seems to reflect the mood of the evening – heady yet light, harmless. Hardly the choice of immoral wrongdoers, surely: more that of two people enjoying the moment, caught up in such a forceful and unstoppable attraction that any implications their actions might have are pushed light years away.
Minutes later they are parked up on the roadside by a man-made lagoon on the west of the city: beyond it is the sea. It’s as close to ideal as they are going to get without driving further than either of them has the patience for; distant enough from the most popular strip of Brighton beach to be relatively private. Simon slings a tartan travel rug he keeps in the back of his car over his shoulder like a Scotsman’s cloak and, as they stroll along the edge of the purpose-built lake, plastic bags rustling, flip-flops flipping, the light catches baby waves – ripples that dance and sparkle blue and turquoise.
‘Where shall we go?’ Simon asks, when they reach the promenade.
Karen scans the beach; her chief priority is to be far from other people, second to that she wants to be in the sun.
‘There,’ she says, pointing to a spot on the shingle bathed in orange.
‘Perfect,’ says Simon, and he is right: it is.
They crunch across the stones, put down the bags and Simon flings the rug wide so it catches the breeze and lays out flat and square.
Karen stands for a moment, looking at the sea. It is windy but not too windy; the waves are enticing, not intimidating; gulls swoop down and up, round and about, playing in the breeze. Misty shafts of light illuminate the pebbles; tonight they are a million shades of pink and russet and yellow and gold, not grey, as they’re so often pictured.
She can feel Simon watching her, and senses herself as he might see her; long, long chestnut hair spidering in the wind, white cotton skirt flapping about her shins, faded green T-shirt hourglassing her waist and breasts. She is, she feels at that second, womanly; even, possibly, beautiful.