When the first bell went I shook myself and went to the loo. Someone had used the cubicle before me. I sat breathing in her smell. I thought, nothing’s new. I washed my hands, didn’t look in the mirror, and reached my station before the second bell went. The morning just passed.
4. A person who could be looked at
Jason’s football practice today. I found myself slowing down on the way home. I went into the Three Bells. I sat in the garden with my shandy, thinking, there’s nothing to do, nothing to do. It was bright, white clouds moving fast across the sky. It wasn’t really warm, but it felt good to sit with my face in the sun. I drank slowly, and thought about smoking. A wasp buzzed around my glass. On another table there was a man with a lanky dog, maybe a lurcher. The man was drinking a pint and talking on the phone. The dog lay at his feet. Every now and then it got up and he would tear off a bit from a slim packet, probably a Peperami, and feed it.
After a while a couple came in. They sat down but got up again and went inside. Then a man on his own. I caught him looking, a sharp glance. Suddenly I thought about my clothes. I go to work wearing anything: jeans, a t-shirt. It’s not worth wearing nice stuff, and anyway half the year I get dressed in the dark. Jane dresses up, but she isn’t working like we are. She wears heels — not stilettos but two or three inches.
I looked at the man again, and saw him looking at me. Was he good-looking? I looked away. The wasp was getting in my drink. I waved my hand at it, caught the glass, and shandy slopped over the side.
Fuck, I said. I moved the glass and shifted away from the wet part of the bench. The man was smiling at me. He was blond, tall maybe, thinnish. His clothes fit well. He looked comfortable on his own, like he always looked the same. I found a tissue in my pocket and wiped shandy off my elbow. Yeah, very cool.
I stared under my hair at the glass, drank from it. I tried to imagine the way he might see me. He probably thought I fancied him. I didn’t want to be looked at, I wasn’t ready. Make a bit more effort, I thought. Try. Wear mascara. Do something with your hair. You’re not dead yet. Something Nan used to say. I’m not dead yet. Then she’d smile. Had I forgotten how to live? Just going on, getting things done.
I finished the shandy, imagined myself outside the factory, and the same person inside, saw myself as though I wasn’t me. A figure in the fluorescent light on the shop floor, walking there in the morning, leaving in the afternoon. A person who could be looked at without disappearing.
I pushed away the glass. A shadow went over me. It was the same man leaving. He slowed as he passed, and looked into my face. He smiled. Afternoon, he said. Nice day. I stared at him, like someone in a dark room when the light goes on. In the puddle of spilt shandy the wasp was on its side, buzzing and flailing. I had the urge to bring the glass down on it, then I was ashamed. I should have said something back. When I got up, I picked up the wasp on the edge of a beer mat and left it to dry in the sun. All the way home I was aware of myself, and my sticky elbow. What each person I passed near the shops and on the road saw when they looked at me, if they did look. I got home and took out the clothes I’d wear tomorrow.
5. Life was simple
By now I should know not to listen to Katie. I should know not to listen to you, I heard myself tell her at some point in the evening but by then we were both drunk. By now, I said. We thought it was funny. It was her round and she’d come back from the bar with two drinks and two shots of something green.
What the fuck do you think that is? I said. I’m not drinking that.
It’s herbal, she said. She grinned. Come on, you can’t be boring all your life.
I picked up the glass and tilted it about. Does it get the toilet whiter than it’s ever been? I asked.
Wait and see, she said. She knocked hers back. I did the same. My throat burned and my eyes watered. Jesus, I said. She took it as a compliment.
Thursday night, she said. It’s the best time.
I work on Fridays, I said.
Half day, she said, which was true.
Why can’t we just go out on a Friday, or at the weekend? I said.
I’ll tell you everything when I see you, she said.
She always wants to go somewhere different, whichever is the new best place. You wouldn’t think there’d be so many, but she always knows — from someone at work, or someone she’s met out. This time we were in a vodka bar off Tombland.
This place is all right, I said. It was black inside, with chrome railings, and high seats at tall tables. At the bar there were groups of girls ordering pitchers of cocktails. The music was loud.
She nodded. I do salsa here on Tuesdays, she said.
Salsa? You do salsa now?
I’m going to start zumba, she said. You should try it. It’s a real laugh. She eyed me. You need to do new stuff, Claire. Shake things up. It’s like life’s –
It’s like life’s what?
She stirred her mojito and looked at me. Oh, just a sec Claire, she said. She checked her phone and started replying to a text. I watched her strong, toned arms, and the way she sat.
She put down the phone. What was I saying? she asked. Her eyes were vague.
It’s like life — I said.
She focused on me. It’s good to shake things up, Claire, she said. Change things.
Oh yeah, I said. You know me. Change, I love it.
I’d made an effort. I was wearing a dress, boots, eyeliner. I’d done my hair. I still felt invisible. The way she held herself, and her clothes, it was like she expected attention. And she got it. We were at a table near the door and all the men who passed looked at us quickly, a rush of cold air as the door opened, and then back at her as it closed.
She’s always been this way. Not just with men, but always changing, on the move, rushing from one thing to another. She talked fast, ate fast, gulped her words down. Never had to wear a coat because she ran everywhere. That Katie’s a hasty one, Nan used to say. Is she on her way to the moon?
So what’s your news? I asked.
She’d met a man, at the accountancy firm. Maybe that’s when she changed, I was thinking as she talked, after she did that course, and got her job in reception. New clothes, work, men. This one’s name is Graham.
He’s older, she said. He has his own house. Near Angel Road. He’s got a son, Sean, he’s seventeen. Graham’s divorced. He’s nice, she said. He takes me out for dinner, or we go bowling. It’s nice to actually do stuff. For someone to make an effort, you know?
It sounds great, I said. I felt sad, as though things were leaving me behind. Oh, I like your hair, by the way, I said. It suits you.
Thanks! I think I might go blonde again, though, soon. She shook it out, dark brown strands. The last time I saw her it was red. When we were young her hair was light brown, mousy Nan called it. Katie started dyeing it when we were fourteen or fifteen.
Do you fancy going for a bit of a dance? she asked.
Maybe in a bit. Hey, I said, Jason said Mum called.
Oh, really? she said. Hang on, just a minute. Sorry, Claire. She stopped to check her phone. Graham wants to go away for the weekend, she said. Up to the coast.