As anyone who is following my blog knows, I'm doing a creative writing module with the Open University. For my second assignment I had to write a short story of no more than 2,200 words. For better or worse, here it is!
Return to Russell Square
Rain was falling heavily as he
approached the elegant Victorian building of the Russell hotel in Russell
Square. A sharp pain pierced his heart when a memory of the first time he’d
been here jumped into his head. Slowly he pushed open the large wooden doors
and approached the reception. George the concierge hurried forward to relieve
him of his wet coat and umbrella.
‘Thanks
George, it’s good to see you.’
‘And
you sir. Are you staying with us today?’
‘No,
I’m just meeting someone.’
‘Very
well sir. Let me know if you need anything?’
Simon slipped him a ten pound note
and headed in the direction of the lounge. George looked after him, a concerned
expression on his face. There was something different about him. He’d always
thought that he looked a bit like Pierce Brosnan, with his dark hair and eyes.
But today he seemed to have aged considerably since the last time he was here.
As Simon entered
the lounge there was a subdued feel to the atmosphere. It was busy but the
sounds of people’s voices were lost in the high vaulted ceiling. He spotted her
sitting in an armchair by the window. Rubbing his sweaty hands on his trousers
he felt his heart rate quicken. The rain had stopped and the afternoon sun cast
a glow on her auburn hair as she sat looking out the window. He watched her for
a moment wondering what she was thinking but decided that it was that it was
probably better if he didn’t know. He took a deep breath and approached her.
‘Hi
Elise, thanks for agreeing to meet me.’
She looked up, her head cocked to
one side, her eyes narrowed.
‘I
almost didn’t come! It’s been twenty five years Simon. Why now? Why after all
this time?’
‘May I sit down?
She nodded then resumed staring out
the window. There was a momentary silence during which he studied her, noticing
the fine lines around her blue eyes and the sprinkling of grey in her hair.
‘You’re looking
well. You’ve hardly changed at all although there’s something different.’ He
studied her for a moment. ‘I know! You’re not wearing glasses!’
‘Contacts!’
she snapped, ‘look I didn’t come here for a chat. You wanted to tell me
something, so get on with it!’ she retorted.
He slumped back in his chair,
running his hands through his thinning, brindled hair.
‘Now
you’re here I don’t know where to begin. I guess it’s too late to say sorry.’
‘Sorry!’
she hissed. ‘Sorry for what? I needed you and you let me down! You’re right
sorry doesn’t even come close.’
He was prevented from answering by
the arrival of a young Romanian waitress. She asked them if they would like to
order anything. They both shook their heads and sensing the tension between
them she hurried away.
‘Have
you been happy Elise? Has your life worked out?’
She smiled tightly. ‘Yes I’ve been
happy but it took me a long time. Anyway, why do you care? You didn’t then!’
She wiped her eyes with the back of
her hand angrily dashing away the tears that threatened to fall. He leaned
forward as if to wipe her eyes.
‘Don’t!’
She cried, pushing his hand away, ‘you lost any right to touch me twenty five
years ago.’
He sat back, his hands dropping to
his side. She was right; it wasn’t his place to comfort her anymore. They sat
in silence once more memories of the past haunting their thoughts. They had
been happy once. He’d had a promising career with the Nat West bank and she was
happy in her job as a Personal Assistant, her only ambition to be a mum. They’d
been so happy when they found out that she was pregnant. The day their daughter
was born he’d felt invincible. She had been tired but radiant that day and for
the next few years they were really happy. He looked at her now, her heart
shaped face trembling as she chewed her lower lip.
‘Did
you marry again, have kids? He asked in a hushed tone.
‘Why?
Would that make you feel better? Excuse what you did?
‘No,
but despite my faults I did want you to be happy.’
‘Oh so that’s
why you slept with my friend, to make me happy!
They stared at each other, her eyes
blazing, his clouding as the enormity of how badly he’d hurt her began to sink
in.
‘You’re
right. I don’t deserve to be here. I’ll go. Thanks for at least coming.’ He
started to rise but froze at her next words.
‘She
would have been thirty this year.’ She mumbled.
He sat down heavily, the colour
draining from his face. Suddenly he felt much older than his sixty years, the
feeling of loss that he’d been suppressing for the last twenty five years
threatened to engulf him. He closed his eyes and all he could see was the tiny
white coffin as it glided out of sight behind the red velvet curtain and his
shoulders began to shake.
Startled, she
stared at him and a flicker of compassion briefly pierced her defences. He
looked tired and much thinner than she remembered and there was a yellowish
tinge to his face. Then her thoughts returned to the time when her world had
fallen apart. She could vividly recall the day the doctors had told them that
their beautiful little girl had cancer. They’d been a team then, determined to
fight this together She’d screamed and shouted and bargained with God. But in
the end the cancer had won. Then he’d betrayed her in the worst way possible.
‘I don’t know
what you want from me? I have a husband and two beautiful kids. I’ve moved
on! Why bring it all back now?’
He slowly nodded his head. His
shoulders slumped as he covered his face with his hands. She was right! He
didn’t deserve to be forgiven, to finally find peace.
‘You
know what Simon? I’m tired, tired of carrying around all this anger. Maybe I
should be thanking you.’
He looked up startled.
‘I
know!’ she laughed mirthlessly. ‘It probably doesn’t make sense to you. But if
we’d stayed together I wouldn’t have met Phil and I wouldn’t have adopted Adam
and Sam. They’re the reason I was able to pull myself out of the pit and start
living again. What about you, did you marry her?’
‘No
it didn’t work out. She said I was “too damaged”, so I never tried again. I had
a few casual flings, but there was never anyone serious. I could do with a
drink! Would you like one?’
‘Just
water thanks. Drink always was your answer!’
His mouth twisted into a grimace as
he emitted a mirthless laugh.
‘I
did give up for a while but there’s not much point now. I’ll go to the bar’
She watched him as he weaved his
way around the tables. The combination of his tall frame and his evident weight
loss lending him an air of fragility she’d never seen before. What did he mean
by that remark? He was probably just trying to win her sympathy. He was always
good at that. Well not this time. She looked at her watch. She’d told Phil that
she wouldn’t be long but not who she was meeting. She smiled thinking of Phil
and the boys. After her daughter had died she had wanted to die too. Then one
day she’d walked into her accountant’s office and met this shy, gentle widower.
There was a vulnerability about him that had slowly started to penetrate the
shell she’d placed around her heart and meeting his two sons had shown her that
she could love again. Looking at Simon she realised that what she’d said
earlier about him doing her a favour was true. Perhaps it really was time to
forgive him.
‘I
said yes to ice and lemon, is that OK?’
Startled she knocked the glass
coffee table spilling the drinks he’d placed on it.
‘Shit!
I’m sorry. I was miles away.’
‘You
always did swear when you were stressed.’
‘Only
when I’m around you,’ she spluttered.
The young Romanian waitress hurried
over with a cloth. They both appeared to be extremely interested as she
carefully wiped the table and replaced the round paper coasters. They thanked
her and said that, “no they didn’t want the drinks topped up.” As she walked
back to the bar she smiled happy that they seemed to be getting on better.
Probably just a lover’s tiff! She saw a lot of that around here.
Elise took a sip
of her water, realising how dry her mouth had become. ‘What did you mean when
you said that it didn’t matter now?’
He shrugged,
‘nothing really, forget it. Do you remember the last time we were here?
‘How
could I forget? It was our fourth wedding anniversary and we’d come up to
London to see a show. I don’t really remember which one, but I remember our
night in the hotel and nine months later she was born.’
‘Can
you still not say her name?’
‘Not
in public, I never know how I’m going to react. I speak to her all the time
though. Not out loud, but in my head.’
‘I
come here every year on her birthday.’ He hesitated. ‘I have cancer, six months
the doctors reckon; a year if I’m lucky,’ he said, the words tumbling out of
his mouth.
She stared at him and shivered as
if someone had just walked across her grave. She felt the tight knot that had
once been her constant companion once more taking hold of her stomach.
‘How
long have you known?’ she asked gently, her eyes softening with compassion.
For
sure? Not long. But I’ve felt that something wasn’t right for a long time. I
just ignored it. I was scared I guess. Stupid thing is they reckon if they’d
caught it earlier they could have done something.’
‘But
you’re only sixty, that’s nothing these days!’
He said nothing. Inside he’d felt
dead for a long time. Since their divorce he’d ploughed himself into his work
and partied hard, living the clichéd life of a single man. It hadn’t been what
he wanted, but he’d had his chance at happiness and blown it. The doctors had
warned him of what might happen if he didn’t stop drinking so hard. He’d tried
but too late. He decided to be honest with her it was the least he could do.
‘Don’t
be sorry for me, it’s my own fault. But now you know why I wanted to see you. I
don’t expect you to forgive me I just wanted one last chance to tell you that I
really am sorry.’
A silence fell between them. She
studied her perfectly manicured hands wondering when they had become so wrinkled.
He stared at her; a sad expression on his face as thoughts of all that he’d
thrown away crowded his head.
After what seemed
like an eternity she looked across at him. Instead of the confident young man
she’d fallen in love with almost forty years ago she saw a broken, middle aged
man and despite herself she felt a surge of compassion.
‘I
should know more than most when something like this happens it puts everything
else into perspective. Just tell me one thing, why did you do it? Have the
affair I mean?’
‘I
needed comfort. I was hurting too and you’d retreated into your own private
world where I couldn’t reach you. It really didn’t mean anything. I still loved
you. I’ve regretted it every day of my life.’
‘I’ve
often wondered what Chloe would have thought of what happened to us’
‘Hey!
You’ve done it! You’ve said her name!’
A slow smile spread across her
face. ‘I have, haven’t I and it doesn’t seem to hurt so much somehow.’
Now she was crying but her shoulders relaxed
as the tension drained from her face and body. He was also smiling and
experiencing a lightness he hadn’t felt in years. She hadn’t actually said that
she was willing to forgive him, but somehow he just knew that she had.
She drained her glass of water and
placing it on the table she looked at him a concerned expression on her face.
‘What
are you going to do? How will you manage?
‘Don’t
worry about me! Money’s no object. I’ve rented a cottage near St Ives; I think
that I’ll find peace by the sea. There’s a local hospice there that’s agreed to
take me in when the time comes.’
Leaning forward she kissed him on
his forehead.
‘Look after
yourself and thanks’
‘Thanks
for what?’
‘I
didn’t know it but I needed to forgive you. I’ll never forget but at least now
I can let go.’
The young Romanian waitress
appeared and proceeded to remove their empty glasses. This time she grinned as
she walked away. They’d definitely made up, that was good. She wondered if
they’d booked a room or did people their age do that sort of thing.
Hope you like it!
One of the stories that really captured my imagination was that of Lady Alexandra Phyllis Hamilton, the cousin of the 9th duke of Marlborough. Her story goes that on the 11th October 1918, she was on the Irish Steamer RMS Leinster when it was hit by a German UB-128 submarine, when sailing out of Dublin Bay. She drowned, along with two of her servant's, Martha Bridges and Eleanor Strachan. The ship's captain, William Birch, later reported that when he went down to the saloon to check on the passengers after they'd been hit she said to him; 'We are alright, not a bit excited.' He then heard her say; 'I'm a strong swimmer,' as she handed her life belt to another of her servants. Heartbreaking! All the more poignant as it was so near the end of the war.
