I Remember You. Harriet Evans
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birthday drinks, at a pub on the New Kings Road. Tess had gone for one drink only and had waved, in a friendly, brisk way at Will on her way out, weaving through the crowded pub, heady with the scent of expensive perfume, cigarette smoke wafting in from outside, and lilies in huge vases on the bar, the smell of decay lingering behind their sweetness.
Will was holding hands with someone behind him; through the thick press of bodies around her she couldn’t see her face, but she knew it must be Ticky. Tess had smiled again at him, rolled her eyes as if she were fantastically busy and pushed past him mouthing ‘Bye’ as she fell out of the pub onto the pavement. There she had stood miserably in the sudden cold, her shoulders stooped, feeling like a total outsider. She hadn’t fitted in there, never would.
Now, she looked up at Will as he stood, tall and godlike on the high street. She remembered with a rush of recognition, like hearing a song that reminds you of a summer holiday, a curious feeling of alienation, of being different, an oddity, that came with being with Will.
‘Hello,’ Tess said, determined to be friendly and mature. She had practised just such a scenario with Meena in their flat—Meena!
It all came flooding back to her, now. The email! The bureau—oh, shit, that was why he was here.
‘Will, how are you?’ she said. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, as Adam stood behind her. Gently he prised the wicker basket out of her hand, and put it on the ground. ‘And you must be Ticky,’ she added.
From behind Will stepped a tall, thin, fair girl, with the longest legs Tess had ever seen, enormous green eyes which bulged out from her tiny face. She was wearing what looked like a turquoise romper suit.
‘Hi!’ she said, slightly flatly, raising one hand. ‘I’m Ticky. It’s soooo great to meet you.’
Will, who was still gazing at Tess, nodded. ‘Hey, yous,’ he said—Tess had forgotten how soft his voice was. ‘You OK, hon?’
‘Super!’ Tess said, practically shouting.
‘Did you get my email, and the message? I’m sorry to just turn up here without warning, you know. But I did really want to give you back the bureau.’
He pronounced it ‘rally’ and ‘beeyurrrohw’.
Tess glanced from Ticky to herself as if mentally comparing their appearances. Hers (shortish, averageish, horrible black clompy shoes, top and cardigan—an old sage cardigan with big roomy pockets, oh, the inhumanity—and oh, dear God, was she really wearing an A-line skirt?) with Ticky’s (on-trend playsuit, honey-coloured limbs, soft blonde hair, cherry-red Havaianas). She gave a tiny groan, and Adam glanced at her.
‘Oh, the bureau!’ she said loudly. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t get in touch with you. Of course!’ She leaned in what she hoped was a nonchalant way against the nearest thing, which happened to be the wall of the cottage next to Mr Dill’s, the cheese shop. Unfortunately it was a little further away than she’d calculated, and she fell against the old stone with a thump, jarring her shoulder bone as she did so.
Will shook his head. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, smiling kindly, and put his fingers together. Watching him, Tess realized that he looked a bit like David Cameron; how had she not noticed this before?
‘So,’ said Adam, from behind her. ‘What are you doing here? What—er, what a nice surprise,’ he added quickly.
‘Ah—we’re on our way to Lucinda’s wedding,’ he said, as if Adam would naturally know who Lucinda was. ‘It’s in Dorset, at her dad’s place, really beautiful. We’re staying at the Tailor’s Arms with loads of friends.’ Ticky lolled against Will as he said this. ‘So—we thought we’d stop off here for a pint, and give you the bureau. Pit stop!’ he finished. He looked round, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘Lovely town, I must say. You live near here?’
‘Yes,’ said Tess, mechanically. ‘Just round the corner.’
‘Ah.’ He rocked on his feet. ‘And—great. So, everything OK with you then, hon?’
If you call me hon again I will bite off your head and store it in the bureau after you’ve gone. ‘Yes, great, thanks.’
‘Really?’ Will said, as if he knew this was rubbish but was keeping up the pretence.
‘Will was worried about you, when you didn’t reply,’ Ticky ventured suddenly, her voice rusty with misuse; she herself looked surprised that she’d spoken. Tess’s hands curled into fists; she tried to breathe. ‘He thought you were probably still—’
‘This all sounds lovely,’ came Adam’s voice behind Tess. He slipped his arm round her waist. ‘Where are you parked? Shall we show you the house, and we can unload the bureau?’
‘Great,’ said Will, looking with surprise at Adam’s hand on Tess’s hip.
‘Tell you what,’ said Adam. He smoothed back her hair, and kissed Tess’s forehead. ‘Darling, why don’t you carry on and go to the grocer’s before it shuts, and I’ll take Will and—I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘Ticky!’ Ticky said brightly. ‘It’s short for Candida.’
‘Of course it is!’ Adam said, nodding enthusiastically. ‘Very nice to meet you. Well, I’ll take Will and Ticky to the cottage and we’ll get the bureau inside. Sorry,’ he said, turning to Will. ‘You know us country folk. The shops round here shut at five, I’m afraid, and we’re going to the seaside tomorrow. Need to get stuff in.’
‘Oh, absolutely,’ Will said, nodding through his astonishment.
Adam took Tess’s other hand, and kissed it. ‘That OK with you, sweetums?’ He turned to Will. ‘She hates it when I call her that, don’t you!’ He squeezed Tess’s waist.
‘Sure do,’ said Tess, stepping into the role with an aplomb that surprised her. ‘Well, that sounds great, my little cutie-pie.’ She moved towards Adam, and made kissing sounds at him. He silenced her by grabbing her, dipping her and kissing her on the mouth.
‘Sorry,’ he said, turning back towards Will and Ticky as he flung her upright again. ‘Wow. We’re just still really in that honeymoon period, aren’t we, my love? Grrr.’ He slapped Tess’s bottom.
‘Grrr,’ said Tess, slapping him back. ‘My God, yes!’ she cried gaily. ‘We’re at it all day, I’m pleased to say!’
There was a silence. Adam cleared his throat and looked at the pavement, trying not to laugh. Will and Ticky stared at them, clearly rendered speechless: this wasn’t in their plan, it was clear. ‘Gosh,’ said Will eventually, clearly not sure what else to say. ‘Nice one guys.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Let’s get going then, shall we? Car’s parked just here—’ he pointed down the road—‘and off to the side.’
‘Then I think you’re in Tess’s street,’ said Adam. ‘Bloody marvellous.’ He turned back to her, solemnly. ‘OK, sweetums?’ he asked, his eyes sparkling. ‘Try not to miss me too much. I know I’ll miss you.’
‘What about Francesca?’ Tess said, trying not to smile at him.
‘I’ll just make sure she’s OK before we start unloading. Francesca’s my sister,’ he told Will and Ticky firmly. ‘And she’s ill. She’s very ill.’ They looked alarmed. ‘Er—with the flu,’ he amended hastily. ‘So I’ll just go and warn her not to come down while we’re carrying the bureau in. The chill might kill her. And—er, she might be infectious, so also you should keep away from her and not talk to her, if you see her.’
‘Yes,’ said Tess, marvelling at the fecundity of his imagination. ‘We’ve only just been given the all-clear ourselves. From the…clinic. So—er, bye then,’ she said. ‘Great to see you, Will. And Ticky.’
‘Absolutely!’ Ticky said with something like enthusiasm, banging her hands together. ‘Rally