Isn’t this just the sort of incident that every woman who lives alone fears? I had not seen enough of the person to get much idea of who it might be, but I had a strong impression that it was a man. Yes, I was certain it was a man.
After looking out for several seconds I put the coffee jug down and went out of my flat to the stairwell. The automatic lights that belonged to the shared areas of the house had not yet come on but they would at any moment.
I wanted to look out of the hallway window to see if I could spot this man again before he left. If I could do this in the dark he wouldn’t be able to see me, I thought. As I waited, the figure behind the tree moved along the pavement, trying to see into my flat from a different angle. It was him. I was almost sure it was him. I moved rapidly away from the window as the lights burst on. I had backed away just in time. Returning to my flat I avoided going near any of my windows and sat down heavily on the sofa. My mind was in turmoil. Was it him, or was I being fanciful?
I wasn’t sure which would be preferable, that it was him - a semi-known quantity, or a totally unknown quantity. Then I realised I knew nothing about this man except that he liked good coffee and read Italian newspapers.
I returned to the moment in hand, turning off the light and returning to the window. All that was to be seen was a car leaving its parking space below my window. It was a dark blue Alpha Romeo. I could see it quite clearly in the streetlights. So what. There are thousands of those out there. Doesn’t mean a thing. But it would have meant less if it had been a Honda or a Ford.
I lit another cigarette.
Let’s face it, no-one knows much about anyone when they first meet them do they? But if it was him, how had he found out where I lived and why was he being so sneaky about it? Why hadn’t he just started talking to me as people usually do when they fancy someone? I had to admit I found it somewhat disquieting. Don’t be daft, you can’t even be sure it was him. That left the other possibility…. I poured myself a large glass of red wine to steady my nerves. It would help me sleep I reasoned.
Eventually, once I had emptied the bottle, I forced myself to go to bed. I dozed off almost immediately but, as often happened when I had drunk too much, I woke up about an hour later. I was immediately alert as I remembered the happenings of the previous evening. I wanted to get up but I still felt uneasy about putting the light on.
I didn’t think whoever it was would still be out there, but I was still feeling nervously disturbed and I lay there in the dark wondering whether I should scratch the whole plan. But it would be such a disappointment and, I decided, if I didn’t like the way things were going I could always pull out later - if indeed anything happened at all. Which was probably not at all likely, was it?
Although this was not what I had been planning and working towards all these weeks, the idea of absolutely nothing happening, calmed me somewhat, enough to send me back finally into a restless, disturbed, dream-laden sleep.
The following morning when our paths crossed he was ostentatiously looking at his diary or some notebook and deliberately avoided eye contact. ‘Hmm!’ I thought, ‘that probably points to the fact that it had been him outside the previous night. Though wouldn’t he be more likely to act normal if he thought I suspected.’ I couldn’t come to any decision on this. But, after weeks of always giving me a nod of recognition as we passed each morning in the station, wasn’t this a bit odd.
There was no part of me that thought it wasn’t, and I came down on the side of believing it had definitely been him. So what did I make of that? I really didn’t know what to think.
So, I put it away. It wasn’t in the script I had been writing for the approaching adventure. No, it didn’t fit at all. Looking back I don’t know how I could have ignored anything as significant as this… but I did.
V
I don’t think he came back again before my holiday began. I can’t be sure, but if he did, I never saw him. Granted, I never looked out of the windows during the twilight hours and found myself pulling down the blinds substantially earlier than usual. Always, as I did so a ripple of fear would run through me, which I would work to suppress. I was not enjoying the preparations for the up and coming operation anymore, but I carried on with it as if nothing had happened. My conscientious, ‘I’ve started this. so I’ll finish’. ‘Good girl’ up-bringing kicked in.
Finally, it was the last day before the holiday. He had resumed the perfunctory nod routine after the one day of avoiding eye contact and that final Friday was no different. O.K. I thought, everything is ready and come Monday, I will try my luck.
Over the weekend I became very nervous and knew I would have to do a lot of self-convincing to go through with it. This was not an uncommon feeling for me. I always had to push myself to do new things. I guess everyone has some reluctance to tackle the unknown but I had become very cautious as I got older - and I hated myself for it.
As I woke that Monday morning I forbad myself to allow knowledge of what I was about to do to surface in its entirety. Only a blurred sense of the plan was allowed through to my consciousness, enough to make me get up, dress and go through all the physical necessities to get the show on the road. It was very like the way I felt when preparing for an important job interview, or before going into hospital for an operation.
However, I dressed myself with meticulous care, donning the beautiful cream lace matching underwear that had cost more than some Indian families had to live on for a year. No matter, at present my guilt glands were not working and, as I looked in the mirror, I felt a sense of pride at the results of my restoration programme.
I looked heaps better and I felt a surge of confidence as I viewed myself critically from all angles. Eat your heart out Trinny and Susannah, you would never have achieved such a classy image. Today I would not need to take my worn out apology of a handbag with me as I wasn’t going to school. I could take one of my beautiful leather bags, that rarely saw the light of day. I took out a black, Italian one. It seemed just right, and once dusted, it made me look like another sort of woman: A ‘Woman of The World’ who knew where she was going. I happily joined in with the deception. Even the contents of the bag were carefully considered, with an expensive pen, perfume spray, and a gold pillbox. Then I took a beautiful long silk scarf that had been one of my final purchases, and a final squirt of my new perfume to complete the feeling of being in another world where the senses were fed with wonderful things and all things were possible.
As I waited on the small platform for the local train that would take me to town, it was clear that people were aware of me in a way that was no longer a part of my everyday experience. It stirred memories of feeling like a central part of society.
It was very evident to me that I had slowly faded into insignificance. I had to admit that the woman on the radio programme was right about that! And, although my recent self-makeover had managed to reverse the situation, I was aware that the efforts involved were great, and would become ever greater, if I was to keep up this standard. No matter! Let’s live for the day. Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May - Tomorrow Ye May Go To Seed. This had been the message on a birthday card I had received in my early twenties. It came back to me now. – But now it wasn’t funny…
As the train pulled into the terminal in town my stomach reacted like we had just passed over a hump-backed bridge, and I needed to revert to my semi-conscious state in order to carry on.
I was unaware of the walk to the café and felt like I was on tranquillizers – which, in fact, I was. I had fished them out of the medical box that contained virtually the whole history of my medical treatments for years, and even some of my ex-husband’s. Some understanding doctor had given them to me during the acute time of crisis when my marriage disintegrated. They were long past their expiry date – I empathised with them! But, like me, they still carried a bit of a punch.
I had timed my entrance into the café carefully. I did not want to be there before him. It