The Day She Came Back(75)
‘You see, I just didn’t experience that; I don’t recognise that Prim! But then, what did I know?’ she huffed.
Sarah sighed. ‘Maybe age mellowed her? Plus, as I suggested, I think maybe she learned her lesson with me: that the more you hem someone in, the more likely they are to smash the lock and run. I couldn’t seem to do anything right. I was being pushed out of my teenage years, where I had been quite carefree and happy, and being pulled into adulthood, which I was in no way ready to face. Everything felt like an enormous pressure. I had one foot in my childhood and another on the path to my future, and a lot of the time all I wanted to do was jump and not have a foot in either. I guess drugs were the springboard that helped me jump.’
This resonated; it was just as Victoria felt, and again the shared experience drew them a little closer. ‘I don’t . . .’ she began, before remembering she was talking to Sarah, who she was still intent on keeping at arm’s length, wary.
‘You don’t what?’ Sarah urged, her smile encouraged, and her eyes crinkled at the edges in the way Prim’s used to. It was hard to see the similarity and Victoria looked away.
‘I don’t want to mess my life up, but it feels that every single decision is fraught with pitfalls. This guy I was seeing, well, kind of seeing . . . I was scared to be myself and then, when I was myself, he cheated – it felt rubbish.’ She pictured herself hiding in the larder and throwing up.
Sarah laughed. ‘Welcome to the world! The secret is to just make a plan and go with it. You can always change your mind, nothing is for ever; I remember Dad telling me that once . . . Stagnation is bad for my mental health; I think it is for most people. And as for that guy, if something is right, if you are with the right person, you don’t have to second guess or worry about getting stuff wrong because it feels so right you have absolute faith and just go for it, like me and Jens!’
There he was again, this guy who was never far from Sarah’s thoughts, apparently. Victoria hated the thought that what she was feeling was good old-fashioned jealousy.
She nodded. ‘I don’t remember too much about Grandpa; he was quiet. Apart from him telling me stories about when he was at sea.’
‘Oh, he was always very proud of his naval service, rightly so. I think of him often when I look out over the water; he came to Norway.’
‘He did? He came to see you?’ Her heart raced at the prospect of her and Prim on any other school night sitting in the kitchen, while Grandpa was here idling along the waterfront with her dead mother.
‘No! No! More’s the pity.’ Sarah shook her head in lament. ‘I mean, when he was on active service, he spent a lot of time in the North Sea.’
‘I didn’t know that.’ Her pulse settled. ‘I also remember him being fanatical about his roses, which are still beautiful, and I also remember the way he smelled – kind of woody.’
‘Ah, his roses . . . Yes, the woody smell, that’ll be his cigars. Mum used to go bonkers about him smoking secretly in the drawing room, but I always loved the smell. He was lovely.’ Sarah suddenly caught her breath and cried. ‘I miss him still. I miss Mum too, of course, but my daddy . . . I miss him,’ she repeated in little more than a whisper, sniffing and wiping her nose on the sleeve of her jacket. This display made Victoria think again of just how the woman might have suffered too.
‘Sorry,’ Sarah sniffed. ‘I keep a lot of my feelings at bay; a case of having to over the years, but seeing you . . .’ She shook her head and took a deep breath. ‘Come on, let’s get home. Jens will be wondering where we’ve got to.’ Putting her hands in her pockets, Sarah quickened her step and Victoria fell in beside her. Her heart thudded: supposing Jens didn’t like her, didn’t want her there? It was a terrifying prospect.
Sarah reached into the small handbag slung across her body for her door key.
‘Here we are.’
The apartment block was fantastically central, practically on the water. It was built in an old warehouse and the developer had cleverly kept a lot of the old salt-weathered brickwork and supporting steel girders with their large dome-headed rivets, all painted black. The industrial feel, however, was somehow softened when paired with high-spec lighting and soft woods. Every gap in the building that wasn’t original had been filled with smoked glass and shiny chrome. It was modern, fresh, very clean and could not have been more different to the house they had both grown up in. Victoria wondered if Sarah ever missed the honey-coloured carpet on the half landing where the sun came in through the ornate window and pooled shapes and colours on the floor.
Sarah ran up the open-tread stairs and stopped at a wooden door with a small porthole window on the upper floor.
‘This is us!’
Before Jens appeared, a front door on the other side of the corridor opened and out walked a young man, a very tall young man. He was very blonde and smiley – not a lopsided smile, but an open one that invited her to smile back.
‘Hallo, Sarah! Litt kaldt i dag.’
‘Yes, too cold. This is Victoria, my . . . erm . . . my . . .’
‘I am staying for the weekend,’ she interjected, raising her hand in greeting, unable to stand the flustered nature of Sarah’s response, which left them all feeling a little awkward.
‘Oh cool! Well, have a good time – see you around. Ha det.’