Читать книгу Where You Belong - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 13

The phone was ringing loudly as I let myself into my apartment an hour later. I snatched it up and exclaimed, ‘Hullo?’ only to hear the receiver clattering down at the other end.

Too late, I got it on the last ring, and sticking out my good leg I slammed the front door shut with my foot. Swinging around, I went into my tall, narrow kitchen, a place I’d always enjoyed but which I had not occupied very much of late. I like cooking, in fact it’s a sort of hobby of mine, a way to be creative, to relax when I’m back from covering wars and the like. But because of my grief and misery I had abandoned the kitchen, having no desire to be in it to cook only for myself.

I had hardly eaten a thing these last few weeks, and I had lost weight. But suddenly, today, I felt really hungry and I opened the refrigerator, frowned at the contents, or rather the lack of them, and swiftly closed the door in frustration. Of course there was nothing worthwhile to eat in there: I hadn’t been shopping. I would have to make do with a mug of green tea and a couple of cookies, and later I would go to the corner store and pick up a few things for dinner.

A moment or two after I’d put the kettle on, the phone began to shrill once again, and I lurched towards it, grabbed hold of it before the caller had a chance to hang up. As I spoke I heard Jake’s voice at the other end.

‘Where’ve you been all day?’ He sounded both put out and worried at the same time.

‘Walking. I’ve been out walking, Jake.’

‘Again. I can’t believe it. I bet if someone locked you up in an empty room and told you to draw a detailed map of Paris and its environs, you could do so without batting an eyelid. And all from memory.’

‘Yes, I guess I could. But you do a lot of walking, too, so why are you picking on me?’

‘I’m not. I called to invite you to dinner tonight. I haven’t seen you for a week. Too long, Val.’

‘True, and I’d love to have dinner. I’ll cook for you,’ I said. Hearing his voice had instantly cheered me up. I’d missed him whilst he had been in the south; anyway, he was my biggest fan when it came to my culinary skills.

‘That’s a great offer, but I’d prefer to take you out…it’s much more relaxing for you.’

‘Okay, it’s a deal.’

Jake cleared his throat several times and his voice was a bit more subdued when he added, ‘I had a call from London today. From Tony’s photo agency. About a memorial service for him. They’ve planned one and they want us to come.’

This news so startled me, so threw me off balance, I was rendered silent, and when I finally did speak all I could manage was a weak, ‘Oh.’

‘We have to go, Val.’

‘I’m not sure…I don’t think I’m up to it,’ I began, and faltered, unable to continue.

‘We were his closest friends,’ Jake countered. ‘His intimates. His comrades-in-arms, he called us.’

‘We were, I know, but it’s hard for me.’

Jake fell silent, then after a moment or two, he said softly, ‘The whole world is aware that we were with him in Kosovo when he was killed…that we came out alive. How will it look to the world if we don’t show?’

I stood there gripping the receiver, utterly mute, as if I’d been struck dumb, shaking like the proverbial leaf as I weighed the odds. Should I risk Jake’s disapproval, everyone’s disapproval, by not going? Or should I go and expose myself to a large amount of pain and heartache? And could I handle that? I just didn’t know. For weeks I had tried very hard to get my turbulent feelings under control, and I was not so sure I could face a memorial service. Not now. It would open up so much and it would just…do me in emotionally.

‘Are you still there, Val?’ Jake asked, cutting into my swirling thoughts.

‘Yes.’

‘You seem reluctant to go.’

‘I’m not…I’m just…thinking it through.’

He said nothing. I could hear him waiting at the other end of the line, could practically hear him breathing.

Finally, realizing he was waiting for me to say something, I muttered, ‘I couldn’t bear to hear the world eulogizing him…It would be so painful for me, I’d be in floods of tears through the entire service. I’m trying to come to grips with my grief.’

‘I understand what you’re saying. If you want to know the truth, I’m not so keen to live through it myself. But we don’t have a choice. And Tony would want us to be present.’

‘I guess he would…’ My voice trailed off.

‘We’ll talk about it tonight.’

‘All right,’ I agreed, my heart sinking.

‘Good girl. I’ll be there about eight to pick you up. See ya, Kid.’

He had hung up before I could say another word, and for a second or two I stood there clutching the receiver, chastizing myself under my breath. I was so dumb. Absolutely stupid. I ought to have realized that Tony’s agency would hold a memorial service for their fallen colleague. One who had been their biggest star. And their hero. If only I’d thought it through properly, and earlier, I would have been far better prepared. But as it was I’d spent the last six weeks grieving for him, feeling sorry for myself, and getting angry at him and the world in general.

I banged the receiver into the cradle and stared at the kettle absently, thinking it was taking a long time to boil. I turned up the gas automatically, and let out a heavy sigh. I’d been caught off guard. And now there was no way out. I would have to go to the memorial service for appearance’s sake. And I could easily come face to face with her.

That was it, of course. That was at the root of my discomfort and reluctance to go to the memorial. I didn’t want to run into Fiona Hampton. Tony’s ex-wife. It struck me then that it was unlikely she would be there, in view of their recent divorce and the searing bitterness which had existed between them. Of course she wouldn’t go to hear him lovingly eulogized by his friends and colleagues. That would be out of character. She was a hard woman whose contentiousness had driven him away from her and the marriage, and sympathy and compassion did not exist in her makeup.

Remembering how unpleasant things had been between them convinced me I was right, and eased my anxiety about going myself. I made a mug of green tea, took out a packet of cookies and stood at the counter munching on a couple and sipping the tea, suddenly feeling more relaxed.

Of course I had no way of knowing that indeed Fiona would attend the memorial, and that meeting her would change my life irrevocably, and so profoundly it would never be the same again.