‘Did you have a fabulous time?’ Howard asked as I handed him the keys.
I looked back at Luke, who was busying himself with our bags, his hair ruffled, his whole demeanour relaxed, and felt a wide grin crack my face open. ‘The best,’ I said. ‘Just the best.’
Darling Cora,
I am pleased to report Lottie and Luke seem to have returned refreshed and reinvigorated from a wonderful weekend away together. They drove to the countryside in Howard’s soft top so although they had a lovely time, I had a whole weekend of Howard fretting over the continued well-being of his precious car. It was, of course, returned without a scratch on it: that man really does love that vehicle more than any human being.
I’m pleased with the progress we’ve made with Lottie and Luke: this scheme has been rather successful thus far. Arjun had informed us that he would be doing a few weeks’ work as a life model and we couldn’t resist heading over to see him ‘in action’, so to speak. Luke in particular really seemed to enjoy the night and it was fabulous to see them leave together laughing. Then we sent them on a treasure hunt of Hyde Park – Geoffrey drew an illustrated map for them, must have taken the man days. They went on a picnic. Howard put three bottles of champagne into the basket and even then didn’t think it would be enough.
I have laughed over this summer more than I thought possible: it’s a joy to see them brought closer with each date. Arjun seems a little more himself at the moment so perhaps I was wrong to assume he might be battling some bug or have something on his mind. He claims he does all these extra-curricular things to supplement his pension but we all know it’s to fund the golf trips and the bottles of vitamins. Oh, and Howard benefitted from the Life Art evening as Cindy saw his completed penguins picture and wants to commission him (she says penguins are ‘majestic creatures’ and collects lots of porcelain ones, so many that Howard described sitting in her front room as ‘rather intimidating: eyes everywhere’).
Despite all of these things I have had a few low days recently. I try not to be too melancholy but there are times when I just want to be stubborn, stay in my pyjamas and mourn you. Geoffrey has been very understanding, quietly coming over to sit with me. He brings crosswords and makes tea and doesn’t say a great deal. I’m grateful to him for noticing. He knows grief, of course. It makes me a little ashamed I haven’t asked more about his wife in the past, always assuming it would be too painful or awkward – what a coward I am. He obviously loved her in the same way. We have been so lucky, although you both leave these hideous holes behind.
Still, today I woke and dressed and was able to forget. As you know, I have had to dip my toes into the world of modern dating in a vain attempt to show Lottie I am making an effort to ‘get out there’. She says I am way behind on my side of the bargain and I suppose she is right. I imagine she thinks all my loneliness can be fixed over dinners with a good woman but of course I am not lonely for company, just lonely for you, my darling.
All the same, you’ll be irritated to learn that I have been swapping messages with a woman on Tinder and I actually think you’d rather like her (don’t scoff). She plays golf, although was coy about her handicap, regularly attends the theatre (Twelfth Night is her favourite Shakespeare and I am sure you enjoyed that one too, with the man in the yellow socks, or was that The Tempest?) and she told me that she used to play the clarinet in an orchestra and you always did like woodwind. After a string of back and forward we arranged to meet and today was the big day! My first Tinder date!
I booked a table in a nearby Nando’s establishment because I was informed by the internet that it is a popular venue for the young and I wanted to do this right: date like the youth. Although I did take her a copy of Twelfth Night, which I’m not entirely sure is the done thing nowadays – but it would be wrong to turn up emptyhanded, surely? I have to admit to feeling rather nervous as I sat nursing a half pint of beer, staring at the door. I had forgotten all the dreadful angst in those early days of not knowing someone. It’s appalling. And even though I knew it wasn’t a real date, all those memories of waiting in establishments wondering if they’ll appear came flooding back as if it were fifty years ago and I was still that tongue-tied young man. Thank goodness you saved me from a lifetime of that, my love.
The time ticked by and the waiters started to loiter a little and – there is no other way to tell you this, Cora – she simply didn’t show up. And when I messaged her she didn’t reply, she just left my message in the ether. Lottie had shown me when the blue ticks appear someone has read the message, so she just didn’t think it worth an answer. I didn’t really know what to do so I read a chapter of Twelfth Night to buy a little more time and left a tip for the two half pints of beer.
Howard says I’ve been ghosted. I had to look up the term online as our edition of the Oxford English Dictionary is from 1991. It means that this woman ended our personal relationship suddenly, and without explanation, withdrawing all communication. ‘It happens,’ Howard told me, but then he laughed. He said he does it to women but has never been ghosted himself. What am I meant to think, Cora? That she turned up at the Nando’s, took one look at me and left? I had made a real effort. I was wearing the checked shirt that you always said made me look very like Robert Redford and the jacket that you once told me seemed perfectly tailored to my shape. It rather stings.
The boiler is leaking again tonight and I’ve put that disgusting blue glass bowl underneath it and I laugh because you always hoped it would break. That bloody bowl has outlived you. Now it’s the most precious thing, letting me recall your laughing voice as you complained about its ugly pattern.
I am going to bed now, and how I wish you were here about to lie down next to me.
Teddy x
Chapter 12
Love is finding a woman who makes you want to switch off the sport on the television and engage
GORDON, 83
I had finished for the day, leaving chambers early. For once the brief I was working on seemed manageable and I had time the next day to work on it as I wasn’t due in court. The sky was blue, the sun disappearing briefly behind another high-rise building as I moved down the streets, a light breeze lifting my hair. The pavements were barely populated and I found myself browsing in bookshops, picking up titles and feeling a sliver of hope that I might have time to read them, remembering weekends in the past curled up on a rug in the park, head resting on Luke’s stomach as we both got lost in a book. The weekend away with him had reminded me that there were other things in my life besides work, and that I had forgotten that in the last year or so.
Thinking about him made me smile and I glanced at my watch. I could head to his office in Pimlico and see if he was free to leave. We could head to the South Bank, sit watching the boats idle along the Thames, listen to the buskers and street entertainers, stay out and eat as the sun set over the water. We had spent so many evenings like that in the past and I felt the urge to relive one. He had arranged our weekend away – this could be a small way to do something spontaneous too. It wasn’t old-fashioned but gin would be involved.
Stepping into the subway I headed for the Tube. Normally the stifling air, the bodies pressed near me, the squeal of the wheels on the tracks would set my teeth on edge, sweat breaking out on my hairline as I cursed someone nearby and waited for the ordeal to be over. Today, though, I simply stood near the doors, opened the book I had just bought and lost myself in the words.