‘You’re pretty young.’
I’m twenty-three. ‘Uh-huh. Anyway, thanks Alex, but…’
‘Lucky old you on the property ladder, hey? Is your husband a banker or something? Or let me guess, you guys won the lottery?’
‘No, no, nothing like that.’ I struggle for the right words. ‘Unfortunate circumstances,’ is what I come up with.
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘Nothing unfortunate about being on the property ladder. A million people wouldkillto be in your shoes.’
‘Would they?’
‘Are you kidding me? I’m nowhere near buying my own place.’
As Alex continues, I see myself aged five, holding my toy rabbit as my grandparents told me the news about my parents’ death, Granny holding me in her arms. I remember going to an antiques fair for my tenth birthday and choosing a gold locket, Grandad telling me I could put a photograph of Mum and Dad on either side, reminding me that they were always close, inside my heart. I recall my grandparents telling Lucas and me, when we were eighteen, that they’d invested the money from the sale of my parents’ house, for us. It was our inheritance. Then I hear Dan’s voice inside my head and the pain deepens. When will it go away? They say time heals, but how can it when I have his child growing inside me? I’m in a dark place, a place that sometimes I don’t want to be. I touch my bump, feeling guilty that I am plagued by doubt with the choices I have made. How can I raise a child without his or her father? Am I mad thinking I can do this on my own? Will he come back? Where is he?
‘January?’ I feel someone touching my shoulder.
‘I have to go,’ I say, heading towards the front door.
‘So, give us a tinkle once you’ve had a chance to think about it and—’
‘I’ve thought about it,’ I cut him off, before reinforcing with increasing frustration that this flat doesn’t tick any of my boxes.
He must sense my mood as outside, in the cold and drizzle, he says, ‘Can I give you a lift anywhere?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I reply. Catching a bus back to work is infinitely preferable to another minute spent with Alex and his wild assumptions.
But then I see something out of the corner of my eye and Alex follows my gaze.
‘Oh shit!’ He races across the road just as a traffic warden plants a ticket behind his windscreen wipers.
On my way back to the office I can’t stop smiling. There was something so funny about watching Alex argue in vain about his ticket, saying he’d only parked for one lousy minute. One minute! If only.
So, I didn’t find my dream house, and time is against me, but it will be out there somewhere; it’s just hiding well. Perhaps finding the right house is like finding the rightman. Just as you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince, clearly sometimes you have to visit many places like Flat 4a, 23 Priory Road before you find the right match.
I take a deep breath and stare out of the window, wiping a tear from my eye, my emotions all over the place these days. I touch my locket. It doesn’t matter how often I tell myself that I have many friends and I have my wonderful grandparents and I have Lizzie – the thing is, I don’t havehimanymore. Dan’s face haunts me every single day. Every waking hour I fantasise that this is a dream and soon I’ll wake up and see his face.
I wish I didn’t feel this way. How weak I am. I should hate him for being such a coward, shouldn’t I? And I do, but there is a fine line between love and hate.
As the bus pulls into the next stop, I sit up, promising myself to stop thinking about him all the time. I have my baby now; he or she is my priority. Perhaps, one day, he will regret the choices he has made. Maybe it’s better to be on my own than with the wrong man. Lizzie tells me there is nothing lonelier than being with the wrong person. I will raise my child and give it all the love I have. Icando it. I know I can. Just watch me, Dan Gregory.
I know, in many ways, that Alex is right. I am in a fortunate position. I find myself smiling again recalling him laying into the traffic warden, calling him the scum of the earth, so angry spit was flying out of his mouth. Imagine being with a man like him. I think I’d rather have pins stuck in my eyes than go out with a man who says ‘okey-dokey’. Life could be worse. Life could be so much worse.
I can’t stop smiling now.
‘Your mother loved to laugh, January,’Granny once said to me when she was teaching me how to plant seeds in her greenhouse.‘Her glass was always half full. As a child she used to love watching theCarry Onfilms. I could hear her laughter coming all the way from the other side of the house.’
I must be laughing now as my neighbour is looking at me strangely, as if I’m mad. Maybe I am.
All I can think is I could be married to an Alex.
I could be married to an estate agent.
1
Eight years later, 2011
Istand in front of my bedroom mirror, holding my stomach in. I don’t remember my navy suit trousers beingthistight… but then again I haven’t worn them foryears. But still, surely not? The drycleanersmusthave shrunk them.
