And Baby Makes Two - Dyan Sheldon [18]
If only I was. Then maybe someone would drive me home and I really would find that Les had left his mother and was waiting for me. At least I’d have some peace and quiet so I could think about him.
“It’s because I’m practically an adult,” I informed her. “Your daughter doesn’t realize it, but I’m not a child any more.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said my nan. “Then you can be in charge of the washing-up.”
Not only did Les not come home early, but he got sick the day after Boxing Day and couldn’t come home at all.
“You’re joking,” I said. “What have you got, the plague?”
“Flu,” croaked Les. “The doctor says it could take a couple of weeks. Maybe more.”
“God…” For me, two or three weeks without Les was like two or three weeks without water. Plus, I’d read of people dying from the flu. “Maybe you should come back to London. I could come over and nurse you.”
Les sighed with pain and fever. His voice was low and strained.
“My mother wouldn’t hear of it,” he said. “Besides, I’ve got the car. There’s no way I could drive.”
I asked him for his mother’s number, so I could ring him when she was out.
“She won’t let me out of bed to talk on the phone,” said Les. “I’m only ringing now because she’s gone into town. And if she knew I was making a long-distance call on her phone… She’s on a fixed income, you know. She counts every penny.”
“Well, give me the address then.” I’d write to him every day. Letters and postcards. Little presents to cheer him up.
“Oh, no,” said Les. “My mum’s back. I’ll ring you again if I can.”
After that call, I talked to Les in my head all the time. I stayed in my room, listening out for the phone, writing him letters and notes that I planned to send when he rang back with the address.
Dear Les, I don’t know how to say this, but I really love you. I love everything about you. Even when you get angry…
Dear Les, Today I had breakfast (toast and cereal and two cups of tea) and went out to the shops, but all I could think of was you…
Dear Les, I hope you’re getting plenty of rest and eating the right foods. You should drink plenty of liquids…
But he never rang back. His mother must’ve been watching him like a hawk.
Either that or he’d died.
Les didn’t die, but he also didn’t come back to London for three weeks. The longest three weeks of my life. I’d forgotten how boring and empty my life had been without him, but it all came back pretty quickly. Some days I felt like he’d never existed. The dumb, dull days stretched into dumb, dull nights. I ate, I slept, I watched TV. I was like a hamster going round and round in its wheel. The same things to do, the same arguments, the same big nothing.
Even the Spiggs noticed how depressed I was.
“It’s not like you to look like that in the holidays,” she said over supper one night.
“Like what?” I asked, thinking of words like “tragic” and “heartbroken” and “stricken with grief”.
“Like you’ve got a life sentence with hard labour,” said my mother.
I gave her a meaningful look. “I have.”
Les got back on a Friday. He rang me as soon as he walked through his front door.
Hilary and Charley still hadn’t made up. She was only a few feet away in the kitchen, descaling the kettle, her ears up like a hunting dog’s.
I turned my back on her.
“Oh, Amie,” I said, in a bright, casual voice. “What’s up?”
“Amie?” said Les. “Lana, it’s me. Les. I just got back.”
“Oh, you poor thing…” I said. “Are you feeling better now?”
“Oh, I get it,” said Les. “You can’t talk. Yeah, I’m still weak, but I’m much better.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
Fudge sauce flowed through my veins.
“Me, too,” I said. “A lot…” I smiled into the receiver. “Maybe we can go to a film or something. Now that you’re better.”
“Not tonight,” my mother shouted. “You’re going shopping with me. Remember?”
How could I forget something as exciting as that?
“I’ll have to see what’s happening,” said Les. “I’ve been off work a while.”
It was times like these that convinced me that once I’d had my family, I was going to have a great career as an actress.