Ghigau 1.

One year later, near Primrose Hill, London.

 

It was the beginning of a new week. London’s skyline glittered expensively, silhouetted against the creeping tide of the grey-pink dawn. The air was already warm, the night having brought little respite from the sweltering day.

    Lenny Talbot opened his eyes. For a few seconds, his face remained relaxed, unlined and at peace. Then he remembered, as he always did, and his world crumbled for the umpteenth time. He rolled over and looked at Nikki’s back. She was hunched over on her side, her long, glossy, chestnut hair fanned across the pillow between them. Her breathing was regular. He reached out and gently took a thick tress in his hand, admiring its silkiness. They had made love last night, for the first time in a while, and he recalled the way she had clung to him afterwards, burying her head in his chest and quietly sobbing. 

    He went to kiss her bare shoulder, too thin these days, but he knew sleep was something she desperately needed and so he resisted, quietly climbed out of bed, and crept from the room.  

    He showered in the family bathroom, barely moving the mixer from its coldest setting, then shaved, brushed his teeth, and dressed in lightweight, cotton trousers and a blue linen shirt. He made his way down the two sets of thickly carpeted stairs, stopping on the way to peek in to their daughter Lydia’s room and check she was asleep and safe. 

    Downstairs in the kitchen, already flooded with morning sunlight through the wall of glass that formed the rear of the house, he made himself a cup of strong tea and buttered a slice of toast before sitting at the table, staring out at the corn-poppies, daisies and marigolds in their semi-wild garden.  It was only six-thirty and he didn’t need to leave for work until eight. He drummed his lean fingers on the tabletop absent-mindedly, and sipped his tea, before picking up his phone.

    For a long while, after losing Jamie — when he wasn’t drunk, and sometimes when he was — Lenny had needed noise all the time to stop himself thinking; radio, television, audiobooks, anything to distract him and shut out intrusive thoughts. More recently, he had taken to scrolling through TikTok, watching people he didn’t know, or care about, doing things he had no interest in.  This, at least, didn’t leave him with a hangover. When your life is turned upside down by trauma you will do anything to feel numb, to assuage the pain, to think of something else, other than what was, what could have been, what should have been. Jamie, their loved and loving son was gone, and nothing would bring him back.

    Forcing himself to stop swiping upwards, he checked his emails. 125 unread messages. “Bloody spam,” he said out loud.     

    From somewhere behind him came, “Who’s Stan?”

    He jumped in his seat. “Christ!  You nearly gave me a heart attack,” placing a palm on his chest.

    Nikki winced. “Sorry,” she waited a few seconds before continuing, “so, who is Stan?” She must have woken when Lenny got up. Her eyes were still bleary from another fitful sleep.

    “Not Stan, ‘spam’, I have 125 unread emails and I’d hazard a guess that at least 120 of them are spam.” Said Lenny.

    “Oh, I see.” Nikki said, realising she'd misheard. Still clad in her pale-blue cotton sleepwear, she made herself a tea and then sat opposite Lenny, elbows on the table, cup hovering at her lips. “Where does the word spam come from? I mean is it an acronym?”

    Lenny frowned. “I think it’s from Monty Python. As in, there’s way too much of it and you can’t get away from it.”

    “Mum made spam sandwiches when we were kids” Nikki mused. The word ‘kids’ made them both flinch but they sat for a moment and let it pass. 

    Small talk. It was how they got through the first minutes of each day. He couldn’t remember exactly when they had stopped talking about Jamie, at least in the morning. It wasn't a conscious decision, it had just happened. The chasm Jamie left behind had to be filled with something, anything. The absence of him was palpable.

    After his accident — the awful visit from the police, a young female constable and a male family liaison officer,  ‘I’m afraid we have some sad news’ standing with hands clasped before them like attendees at a funeral, the desperate hope that it wasn’t their Jamie, but another boy who’d somehow acquired his clothes and wristwatch, and the Saint-Christopher Nikki had given him on his sixteenth birthday, the unbearably long flight to Solerno, the nightmarish drive to the hospital morgue praying “let it be some other mother’s son”, the dystopian, harshly lit room with its cold, metal drawers, what they had seen that could not be unseen — they had fallen into each others arms and sobbed until their eyes swelled, their bodies heaving synchronously, both only standing with the support of the other. 

    To be the proud loving parents of a bright, happy child was an intense joy they had shared. Their grief matched the intensity of that joy because nothing less would do. They loved each other and apportioned no blame, but their once seemingly perfect life was now imperfect and it was sometimes hard to make sense of a world without their son.

    Despite this tragedy that had at times almost overwhelmed them, they were both strong people and had resolved to carry on with their lives,  more than that, they wanted to be the very best parents they could possibly be to their ten year old daughter Lydia.

    “How’s your day looking?” Nikki said.

    She looked tired, but still beautiful. Her casually styled, cascading hair framed an olive-skinned, oval face, with wide brown eyes under dark eyebrows, and full lips which, even in repose, stayed slightly parted, giving her a kind of old time movie-star look that Lenny had always admired. She looked, Lenny thought, as she always looked — classy.  

    He exhaled, puffing out his cheeks. “Morning meeting with potential new clients, Jake’s contact. I think they’re something to do with green energy although I get the impression they're more interested in the type of green you can spend.” He rubbed his forefinger and thumb together.  “It’s Jake’s baby really. Then I have to look over some social media campaigns and hopefully sign them off.”

    Lenny and his business partner Jake, ran Talbot & Booth Marketing, an independent agency specialising in ‘Ethical Advertising for Ethical Companies’ which they operated out of a converted coachhouse in Maida-Vale.

    “How about you?” He asked.

    “I have that young artist ‘X-A’ coming in I think.” Nikki sounded intrigued by this prospect.

    Lenny thought for a moment, “The one you mentioned before, who paints the ‘inner monsters’.” He made a face.

    “I’m afraid so.” Nikki laughed. “Her work is exciting though, very powerful."

    “Really? Her stuff is so…” Lenny searched for the word, “So ugly, “And how on earth do you pronounce ‘X-A’ anyway?” 

    “I think she prefers ‘E-x-a’ like Alexa”. Nikki explained, smiling. “Hermione says we should show her, as it will raise our profile with Gen Zs.

    “Does Hermione even know any Gen Zs? And do they have any money to buy the work?” Lenny said doubtfully.

    “Their parents do. So the research says, Gen Xs are heavily influenced by their teenage children’s taste.” Said Nikki.

    “Interesting,” Lenny raised an eyebrow.

    Hermione Patterson was Nikki’s business partner in their gallery ‘NEO’.  Lenny sometimes got the impression Hermione looked down on him, with his invariably casual clothes and the occasional glottal stop, a legacy of his Essex roots, but he was self aware enough to know that this was his problem not hers. Nikki trusted her and that was what mattered. Nevertheless, when Nikki was negotiating their partnership agreement, and had asked his advice, Lenny had advised her to remove a couple of clauses that seemed to favour Hermione a little too much.

    “She’s normally right I suppose,” Lenny added grudgingly.

    Nikki stood up and came round to his side of the table.  She put her hands either side of his face and kissed the top of his head, then ruffled his dark hair now peppered with grey. “Your hair’s getting long.”

    “I’ll get a cut this weekend.” He wrapped his arms around her slim midriff.

    “No, I like it. It makes you look raffish” Nikki said.

    Lenny laughed. “That’s just the look I was going for, raffish Len”. 

    Nikki scowled theatrically at his use of the diminutive ‘Len’ as she went to make up Lydia’s packed-lunch.

    “It’s going to be really hot again,” she said.

    He nodded. “I know. Fabulous weather.”

    “Fabulous,” Nikki agreed.        

    As he resumed looking at his phone, Lenny’s brow furrowed; he was going to have to talk to Jake. The content of some recent emails he'd received was worrying him and he felt he couldn’t put off a conversation any longer. They had always stuck to their own sides of the business, he project management and Jake sales, but he needed to understand what was going on. He resolved to make today the day he broached the issue. He disliked conflict and avoided it where possible,  but this needed to be addressed.

    His face only relaxed when he heard the rapid thumping of Lydia’s feet skipping down the stairs.

    “Morning mummy, morning Daddy” 

    Lydia was washed and dressed and ready for school. She had on her blue uniform with gold braid trim and a small brown satchel looped over her shoulder. Her long dark hair was held back by a pink Alice band and her face looked rested, and, to Lenny, almost impossibly perfect. She was the image of her mother. Only a close observer might have spotted the fingernails bitten down to the quick, or the way she glanced at each parent, checking to see if they were sad or happy today. Lenny scooped her in his arms.

    “You are absolutely bloody gorgeous you are”, he gushed.

    “Lenny!” Nikki scolded, “That’s three quid you owe the swearbox already this morning.”

    Lydia giggled. “Dad what were the other two bad words?”

    Lenny kissed his daughter on the forehead. “That’s for me to know and you to find out kiddo.”

    He sat back and watched Nikki serve Lydia a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice. The bustle of the kitchen and the familiar noises of family life soothed him. 

    Abruptly, a memory came unbidden; Jamie sitting at this same table attempting conversation whilst bolting down toast and coffee — he had begun drinking coffee as soon as he started in the sixth form, Lenny suspected some precocious new friends had suggested that tea was for ‘old farts’ or something similar — his hair falling over his face and his voice wavering between baritone and soprano. Lenny’s chest contracted with nostalgia.

    “Ok love?” Nikki was watching him.

    He sighed and stood to stretch. “Yeah, I’m fine, don’t you worry about me,” he reassured her, “I’d better get off”. He kissed the top of Lydia’s head, then embraced Nikki, nuzzling her neck, and went to fetch his jacket and laptop bag.

    Before leaving he glanced back at Nikki and Lydia sitting next to each other and laughing about something one of them had said. At last, he thought, things were starting to feel like something approaching normal.