1
I
grew up in a house of whispers, of meaningful glances and
half-finished sentences.
‘Tell
me.’
‘Tell
you what?’
‘What
you’re not telling me.’
‘Don’t
be silly.’
‘Tell
me!’ I shouted.
‘Rudeness
will get you nowhere,’ they said. Then they sent me to my room.
‘My
room is somewhere,’ I said.
These
conversations never ended well.
People
asked, as people do, ‘So, little girl, what do you want to be when
you grow up?’
‘I’d
like to be God.’
I
blame the vicar. He was the one who told us, “Nothing in all
creation is hidden from God.”’
All
I wanted was to know.
Unsurprisingly,
I did not grow up to be God. Instead, I became a journalist. A
journalist is a seeker of Truth, its upholder and defender. Or so I
thought.
Where
lies go unopposed, democracy dies. A long time ago, when I first
started out, I embroidered the words, badly, in cross stitch and hung
the framed canvas above my bed, as a reminder, should I need one, of
why I became a journalist. Now it hides, face to the wall, at the
back of my wardrobe; a reminder, should I need one, that I’m a liar
and a hypocrite.
I
flicked through my clothes. What does a liar and a hypocrite wear on
judgement day? It sounds like the start of a joke.
What
does she wear?
Something
light and loose, but not voluminous.
That
won’t have them rolling in the aisles.
I’d
asked him to meet me on Viaduct Bridge. It was where it all began;
the place where, by some strange alchemy, I might yet turn fiction
into reality.
It
was early still, and overcast, but by the time I got to the Heath the
sun was shining. I thought, it’s a bad omen, the sun always shines
when something truly shitty happens in my life. It’s why I believe
in a higher power. Chance does not do irony.
I
stood on the bridge, looking down at the still water. What was it
like, I wondered, down in that mirror-world of bridge and trees?
The
minutes ticked by and turned into half an hour. I checked my phone
but there were no messages. He wasn’t coming. I don’t know why I
had imagined he would. Hope, I suppose; that prankster makes fools of
us all.
Five
more minutes, I told myself, no more.
I
looked out across the pond. The mandarin duck was there, with his
grey-feathered friends. It seemed their tranquil morning swim would
not be disturbed after all.
But
here he was, crossing the bridge towards me, his hair copper in the
morning sun. But no halo – the halo would have been too much; he
was splendid all the same.
I
raised my hand in a wave. He didn’t wave back. I stuffed my hand in
my trouser pocket.
‘Rose.’
He gave me a curt nod.
‘Thank
you for coming.’
‘Sure.’
And
there we were, two little people whose lives did not amount to a hill
of beans in this vast, indifferent universe. Only there is a
different universe, there always is: a tiny, selfimportant one, built
by us, for us. A fool’s universe, if you like, but that’s OK,
because in that universe, he and I, standing there on Viaduct Bridge,
mattered a great deal.
‘What
did you want to see me about?’
‘I
was hoping to explain.’
He
shrugged. ‘Fine, explain away.’
I
opened my mouth but nothing came out. He glanced at his watch,
shifted from foot to foot, like someone cornered by a talkative
stranger. I lost my nerve.
‘I
was drunk and on a deadline.’
‘You’re
a journalist. That’s not an explanation, it’s an ordinary day at
the office.’
Unfair,
but this was not the time to argue.
‘I’d
never planned for things to go as far as they did.’
His
tone was brisk. ‘People never do.’
‘The
story, it took on a life of its own, like Frankenstein’s monster. I
was powerless to stop it.’
‘No,
you weren’t.’
I
took a step towards him and my hand, being just a limb, incapable of
understanding, reached out for his. ‘Rufus, please.’
He
took a step back.
I
said, ‘You really can’t forgive me?’
He
looked down at my hand, then back up at me.
‘No.
No I don’t think I can.’ With that, he began to walk away.
The
sun just kept on shining, bathing the bridge in golden light, turning
the duckweed emerald.
‘But
what will I do without you?’
He
turned to look at me. ‘Work,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that what you
do?’
I
took the phone out of my pocket and put it down on the ground. I
scrambled over the railings and onto the ledge, closed my eyes and
jumped.