after that first encounter, I did my best to defy divine decree. Not once did I flick my eyes to the windows of 38B or take a step towards his door. I met other Lime Park residents and was democratically warm and friendly, which wasn’t difficult given how welcoming the community was. I lost count of how many neighbours came by to introduce themselves those first few weeks – ‘Welcome to Lime Park Road!’ they’d cry, as if we’d landed on some tropical island renowned for the openheartedness of its natives – or the times I answered the doorbell to be presented with flowers or a bottle of wine.
I self-consciously applied myself to my new house, to the builders, to the deliveries that arrived several times a day. And there were constant meetings to occupy me, either formal catch-ups with Hetty or impromptu confabs with the builders about some hitch or other.
‘Isn’t this exciting?’ Hetty said as she surveyed the deliveries stacked in the master bedroom, our designated stockroom during the build. Her eyes danced as she unpacked a shipment of hexagonal glass tiles from Italy, destined to bring iridescent magic to our en-suite shower enclosure. ‘We’re finally under way after all that planning!’
‘Very exciting,’ I agreed.
‘You seem a bit shell-shocked, Amber. Don’t be demoralized by the dust. People
always
get demoralized by dust.’
‘I’m not demoralized,’ I said.
I was, however, driven out. The ground floor was a construction site, a dirt pit, scheduled to encroach beforelong on the floors above when work began on the bathrooms, and the place was as insufferably noisy as we’d feared. By the beginning of the third week, I’d all but given up and started doing what I’d only joked I would: leave everything to Hetty and the team and spend my days off-site. I joined the local gym, which was a convenient walk through the park and had its own pool and spa; I familiarized myself with all the retail opportunities within walking distance and drove to adjoining neighbourhoods to do the same there; I met my old colleagues in town for lunch, keeping at bay their requests to see the new house (‘It’s hell. You’ll need hard hats. Let’s wait till the weather’s better and we can sit in the garden’). I was a stay-at-home mum in a home that wasn’t habitable and with no children to put in it.
A fourth theory: the illusion of homelessness, combined with my abandonment of my job, had dislocated my value system. I was unmoored, a rolling stone poised to drop into the first dark hole in its path.
And the first dark hole just happened to be next door.
I next saw him in the café in the park; it was our fourth week in Lime Park. Of course, I recalled his saying he went there sometimes to work and so I had mostly avoided it as a venue for my daylight loafing, but this was Friday and my resolve was weakening. I remember thinking, Jeremy will be home this evening and we’ll be together for the weekend and that will buy me two more days of grace. I had the naive idea that the longer I was able to stave off the inevitable, the less inevitable it would become.
Rob was sitting at a quiet corner table with his laptopin front of him, eyebrows beetled low in concentration, left hand tapping at the tabletop rather than the keyboard. As soon as I spied him I began intoning,
He hasn’t seen you … Don’t go over …
But of course ten seconds later I was making sure he
had
seen me, calling out ‘Hello, again!’ and going right on over.
He lifted a hand in greeting. ‘Well, if it isn’t the new kid on the block. Miss Amber.’
He’d remembered my name, of course; the ‘Miss’ was for his own amusement.
‘That’s me. Hard day at the office?’
‘Certainly is.’ He grinned up at me – he had good straight white teeth; I’d pictured them as stained, the teeth of a feral creature – and seeing how pleased he was to find me in front of him I felt myself ignite.
‘What is it you
I self-consciously applied myself to my new house, to the builders, to the deliveries that arrived several times a day. And there were constant meetings to occupy me, either formal catch-ups with Hetty or impromptu confabs with the builders about some hitch or other.
‘Isn’t this exciting?’ Hetty said as she surveyed the deliveries stacked in the master bedroom, our designated stockroom during the build. Her eyes danced as she unpacked a shipment of hexagonal glass tiles from Italy, destined to bring iridescent magic to our en-suite shower enclosure. ‘We’re finally under way after all that planning!’
‘Very exciting,’ I agreed.
‘You seem a bit shell-shocked, Amber. Don’t be demoralized by the dust. People
always
get demoralized by dust.’
‘I’m not demoralized,’ I said.
I was, however, driven out. The ground floor was a construction site, a dirt pit, scheduled to encroach beforelong on the floors above when work began on the bathrooms, and the place was as insufferably noisy as we’d feared. By the beginning of the third week, I’d all but given up and started doing what I’d only joked I would: leave everything to Hetty and the team and spend my days off-site. I joined the local gym, which was a convenient walk through the park and had its own pool and spa; I familiarized myself with all the retail opportunities within walking distance and drove to adjoining neighbourhoods to do the same there; I met my old colleagues in town for lunch, keeping at bay their requests to see the new house (‘It’s hell. You’ll need hard hats. Let’s wait till the weather’s better and we can sit in the garden’). I was a stay-at-home mum in a home that wasn’t habitable and with no children to put in it.
A fourth theory: the illusion of homelessness, combined with my abandonment of my job, had dislocated my value system. I was unmoored, a rolling stone poised to drop into the first dark hole in its path.
And the first dark hole just happened to be next door.
I next saw him in the café in the park; it was our fourth week in Lime Park. Of course, I recalled his saying he went there sometimes to work and so I had mostly avoided it as a venue for my daylight loafing, but this was Friday and my resolve was weakening. I remember thinking, Jeremy will be home this evening and we’ll be together for the weekend and that will buy me two more days of grace. I had the naive idea that the longer I was able to stave off the inevitable, the less inevitable it would become.
Rob was sitting at a quiet corner table with his laptopin front of him, eyebrows beetled low in concentration, left hand tapping at the tabletop rather than the keyboard. As soon as I spied him I began intoning,
He hasn’t seen you … Don’t go over …
But of course ten seconds later I was making sure he
had
seen me, calling out ‘Hello, again!’ and going right on over.
He lifted a hand in greeting. ‘Well, if it isn’t the new kid on the block. Miss Amber.’
He’d remembered my name, of course; the ‘Miss’ was for his own amusement.
‘That’s me. Hard day at the office?’
‘Certainly is.’ He grinned up at me – he had good straight white teeth; I’d pictured them as stained, the teeth of a feral creature – and seeing how pleased he was to find me in front of him I felt myself ignite.
‘What is it you
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