Chapter 23
The respective friends of Lettie and Doug handled the situation very differently and Rizzo would have appreciated the case study in male / female dynamics.
By five o’clock on the Saturday afternoon, Lettie had received five good luck phone calls, none of which she answered, and the messages left on her answer machine were desperate for her to contact the owners straight away about the night’s forthcoming events – be the news good or bad.
Lisa, who knew the situation, knew to keep out of her way and just provided regular cups of tea with a cheese and tomato sandwich brought in at lunchtime, “I made a bit much, can you eat this one?” Then some fruitcake, and then some chocolate.
Dougie’s phone was silent and he went about his chores with a black gloom that no one noticed.
By six o’clock, Alex was at Lettie’s front door, having been “just passing” and a bit concerned about the unanswered phone. Her inquiring look as the door was opened to her turned quickly to concern, as Lettie walked away from her into the kitchen, leaving Alex to shut the front door and follow her in. They retired to the conservatory with a large pot of tea and the remains of Lisa’s fruitcake and Alex gently wheedled the sorry tale out of her.
“I’m just so pathetic. I’m just not worth bothering with.”
“You are not, you are lovely and funny and beautiful. You’ve just had a rough time, that’s all.” More tea, re-tell the argument. Re-tell the feelings of despair.
“Oh, I am just bloody hopeless. Why couldn’t I see him coming? I’m just sick of men. I can’t be doing with any of them any more. It’s just too much grief.”
“Not all men are like Alan, Lettie,” said Alex. “I doubt very much that Dougie is.”
“Well, we’ll never know, will we? Sorry Alex. I really appreciate you coming round, but I’m off for a bath. I didn’t sleep very much last night.”
Alex knew the signs. She looked at her sister and saw the straggly hair, dirty from so much handling. Her eyes were red and puffy from the day’s endemic weeping and the slovenly comfortable clothes she had wrapped herself in did nothing for her self-image. Yes, despite the beautiful evening sun glowing though the conservatory roof onto the grateful plants, Lettie was ready for bed.
“You run your bath. I’ll change the bed for you.”
Lettie nodded, appreciating her sister’s understanding and practical common sense. She hadn’t thought of the bed, but to sleep in the same sheets as him, to smell him on her pillow and to brush his dark brown hair from her bed would be abhorrent. Her room already felt soiled, as he had left it in a complete state with the blinds pulled shut and the bed unmade. Clean sheets and a loving sister’s eye would make the world of difference and would re-establish the air of calm retreat.
Alex handed Lettie a fresh towel and put the old ones in the washing machine, along with the bedding. She dolloped a large blob of the aromatherapy bubble bath, perhaps inappropriately named Serenity, into the bath. Alex hugged her sister goodbye, promising to call her tomorrow, and took her leave, torn between wanting to absorb her sister’s sorrow onto her own, less weary, shoulders and the urge to shake her hard.
Lettie slowly undressed, noting the still unshaven legs that she had been “saving” for the grooming process that should have taken place late that afternoon. The thick socks that she had worn with her oldest trainers had left deep weals about her shins, reinforcing in her an image of her own unattractiveness. In contrast to Doug’s, Lettie’s eyebrows were shaped and immaculately groomed, having treated herself to a session at the local beauticians on Thursday in order to prevent red puffy eyes on the big day. The irony wasn’t wasted on her as she gazed in the mirror, fat tears beginning to well up once more as her reflection, as well as her hopes, gradually disappeared into the steam.