‘Yeah, that’s right,’ she says, offering the table a weary smile. ‘I had a check-up on Friday and the doctors gave me the all-clear to go back.’ The idea of returning to her old job feels sort of wrong, like stepping into wet shoes. The docs also told her she had to make an appointment for a scan, but she’s ignoring that part so far.
‘Be nice to get back into the swing of normal life, won’t it?’ Elizabeth says. ‘What a relief!’
Routine and reversion are exactly what Anikadoesn’tcrave now. Things have got to be different; she just needs to figure out exactly how.The diary …
‘It’ll keep me busy, I suppose,’ Anika replies. ‘That rent won’t pay itself, eh?’ she adds with a chuckle, then realises that it sounds like a dig. Philip had set Liz up with a one-bed in Belsize Park while she figured out ‘what was next’ after finishing university. Elizabeth’s cheeks redden prettily and Anika feels a bit bad again.
Nella nods. ‘Eh hehn. We don’t want you to become idle.’ Anika stifles a smile, unsure if that’s a sly joke in solidarity. She knowsher mother felt bad about Anika needing loans to get through university and how glad she was when her daughter secured evening bar-work during her time there. But Anika really did understand that her mother worked herself to the bone to provide for them.
For about ten months before meeting Clive and moving down to East Sussex, Anika’s mother took evening shifts as a hostess at Angelo’s, a fancy Italian restaurant up in town. The bank where Nella was employed as a secretary faithfully for over a decade – the scene of her earlier affair with Nelson Lapo – reduced her hours, so Nella decided to take on another job on top of it. On the days when her mum was at the restaurant, if Anika wasn’t packed off to a friend’s house for a sleepover then Nella would have Mrs Thorne, their night-owl neighbour, come and check on Anika every couple of hours. Anika saw the concern in her mum’s eyes at leaving her by herself. Nella would rush home by midnight, exhausted. As much as Anika enjoyed having free rein within the four walls of their flat, by bedtime she would be staring into the darkness, afraid of being alone, or what would happen if her mother never came back for some terrible reason. The minute she’d hear her mother’s key in the door she would fake sleep, knowing that the first thing Nella would do would be to look in on her. She could hear her mum sigh in relief every time the shaft of light from the hallway fell across her daughter’s bed, as if she thought that one dayAnikamight disappear.
The thought makes Anika shiver slightly.
Nella met her ex-husband, Clive, at the restaurant, which led to them moving out of London for that five-year spell when Anika was in her tweens. Was it sad that Nella only managed to lift herself into higher echelons via these wealthy white men? Anika tries not to feel resentful – some of what’s missing in her life is her own fault, after all. Particularly when it comes to family.
Nella starts to clear up the plates, giving the young boys alook that animates them into helping. Anika recognises it well. To avoid more stilted conversation at the table, she stands up to help, too. Plonking down a platter containing the juddering chicken carcass from the roast onto the countertop of the spacious kitchen, Anika wipes her hands on a nearby dishcloth.
‘I need to be heading off soon,’ she says, and her mother looks disappointed.
‘You sure, darling? There’s banoffee pie …’
That did used to be her favourite. It occurs to Anika, with a small jolt of surprise, that her mother probably made it specially. It’s one of the few desserts she can rustle up herself and it’s steeped in nostalgia from when it was just the two of them.
‘Oh, thanks, Mum. Yeah, of course, I’ll have a bit of that before I go, then,’ she says, walking over to give her mother a peck on the cheek. ‘After that I should probably get home and rest before I have to get up for work tomorrow,’ she says, somewhat guiltily given that due to her ‘phased re-entry’ she isn’t due into the office until 10.30 a.m. the next day.
‘OK, sweetheart,’ her mother says, patting her shoulders. She pauses. ‘As long as you arecertainthat you’re feeling good enough?’
Anika smiles and nods at Nella. ‘I am. Honestly, I’m good. Better than good.’ It astounds Anika just how much she means it.
An hour later, she steps through the gates at the Tube station, heading for the southbound platform. A train pulls in as she arrives and she finds a seat. As she does, an alert she’s set up for when Cam Asiedu updates his Instagram flashes on her phone screen, and she quickly opens it, swallowing down her embarrassment. Her heart flutters as she looks at the candid he’s posted from behind the scenes at a photoshoot, sitting on a stool and grinning towards the photographer in a mustard-yellow denim two-piece utility suit, his eyes squinting in mirth.He looks good.
‘Ugh, get it together, Neeks,’ she mutters to herself under her breath. Pulling her bag onto her lap, she rummages for the diary, fanning herself with it for a minute before flicking open the pages. She reads over what she’s written in the days since the hospital. Almost everything so far has come to pass – so there’s at least one way to try to secure a future that she actually wants.
She clicks open her pen.
Monday 23rd July
First day back at work, and I strolled into the office looking and feeling strong, confident and ready to assert myself. Nobody asked any awkward or nosy questions about what happened, but even if they had I’d have been able to handle it. I was calm, cool and collected, literally – no sweat patches or shiny forehead despite the world melting down.
Going back to the grind should’ve been a drag, but out of the blue I heard about an opportunity at SpinRadio and I emailed Ashley Worth about it – skipped out any middle-men and went straight to the head of station. And amazingly, we’ve set up a meeting so I can explain why I’m a good fit for a sidestep. The role is as good as mine. All of that and I got to clock off at 4 p.m. for my phase-in, and without a single meeting being foisted on me.
I’m viewing every day as an opportunity and it’s working. I’ve left behind those parts of my brain that say I ‘can’t’ do this or I ‘should’ do that. It’s all about me now, and going for what I want.
Anika studies what she’s written. She briefly heard Nia talking to one of the station managers about a new upcoming vacancy before her journey off into the A&E-unknown, so it’s not entirely outside the realms of possibility. In all honesty, Anika will be happy even if just the no-meetings part comes to pass.Baby steps.
Or giant ones. She’ll see how it works out.
Chapter Seventeen
Monday 23rd July
Anika releases her bright Afro curls from where she wrestled them into a bun on the top of her head. She blows upwards to gust some air underneath her hair as it hits her forehead, then teases it into shape around her head. Her hands fall down at her sides with relief, adjusting the sleeveless green shift dress she bought online a couple of days ago. The thermostat is already cresting over twenty-five degrees, and the relentless summer sunshine that everyone is complaining about now but will sorely miss in a matter of weeks still blazes down onto the city. Even in a bun, the deep pink of Anika’s hair stood out sharply, and, while the heat would justify the more conservative hairdo, she’s keen to set out her stall from the get-go so they can all get a good look. By the afternoon her return to the office and her new hair should be out of the realm of ‘office news’.
With a nod at her reflection, Anika picks up her bag and leaves the flat. The train is relatively clear of commuters at this time of day, though this means she ends up walking towards her office building fifteen minutes ahead of when she’s expected. On the plus side, that means there’s ample time to head to the canteen for some liquid fortitude. She expects to feel some trepidation as she sees the glass-and-steel building loom ahead of her, but instead she strides confidently through the revolving doors and slaps her key card against the reader that should get her through the electronic gates. But she’s pulled up short as a big, red Xflashes on the gate’s screen. She taps the card again a few times.Must have been deactivated. So much for a triumphant return …
‘Er, I’ve been away for a few weeks and I think my card’s stopped working,’ she says to a woman seated behind the main lobby reception desk. The blonde receptionist’s thin, pink-painted lips draw slightly tighter as she assesses Anika dubiously. Anika holds her lanyard out, but the woman picks up the phone in front of her on the desk.
‘Which department is it? I’ll just need to call up there so that they can confirm—’
