The Optician's Wife (3 page)

I’d taken on many of Mum’s roles but it had never occurred to me to look after the garden. She took pride in how things looked. Mum was no great beauty but she always wore a smile. People liked her. She was loved.

When we lived in Harlow, our front garden was the envy of the street. The bins were always lined up neatly and there was never a blade of grass out of place. I used to wonder where she found the time. Later in life, I realised she probably threw herself into her gardening so she could escape Dad. For a long time, I told myself that he broke after she died but the truth was that he had been like that for as long as I could remember.

Standing in that miserable garden I made a promise to myself. I didn’t want to be there any more. I was tired of looking after everyone. I was tired of being me. Aged seventeen I was old enough to fend for myself. I’d save my money and move out. No one would miss me, until I left. Then they would realise. Then they would see how much I did for them. The dishes wouldn’t get washed; their laundry would pile up. Dad would discover his lunch box was empty in the morning. Dawn would wonder why her bed wasn’t made.

I’d had enough.

The next day I went to work as usual. It was raining as I walked along the busy main road to work.

That morning I broke with tradition. I always used to wait until lunchtime before going into the bakers and buying my sandwich, but on that day I decided to go in before I started work. As I was taking the coins out of my purse, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I fumbled my money and my coins fell to the floor as, I turned around. There stood the handsome stranger I’d met by the river.

‘Hello.’ He smiled as I began to scrabble about on the floor, collecting my loose change.

‘Hi.’ The floor was cold and hard on my knees. From the corner of my eye I realised a queue had formed behind me. An impatient-looking man was scowling at me.

‘Sorry.’ I stood up, deciding to sacrifice the remaining coins.

‘I’ll get that for you.’ Larry reached into his inside pocket and removed his wallet. He handed the woman behind the till a note and waited for his change.

I was dumbstruck. No one had ever done anything like that for me before. The woman in the apron put my sandwich into a brown paper bag and handed it over, never breaking eye contact with Larry. I remained unnoticed.

‘Thank you.’ I felt myself blushing as I moved to one side and let the next customer pay for his loaf of bread.

‘Fancy bumping into you,’ Larry cocked his head to one side. He really did look like George Michael, without the earring, back then. ‘You on your way to work?’

‘Yes.’ I checked my wristwatch feeling self-conscious.

‘I’ll walk with you.’

‘How do you know we are going the same way?’ It was out of character for me to be so direct in those days.

‘I don’t, but I’m prepared to take a risk.’ He grinned, flashing a row of white teeth. He held the door for me.

Once out on the street, I wrapped my sandwich tightly and put it into my navy canvas rucksack, the straps of which I slipped over my shoulders.

‘I’m going this way,’ I said signalling left.

‘Then so am I.’ His confidence unnerved me but I was pleased to see him again.

We walked in silence for a while. He splashed through the puddles in his laced-up shoes while I avoided them.

‘Horrid weather.’

‘I don’t mind the rain,’ I said.

‘Like a duck?’

‘Yes. Like a duck.’

As we got closer to the shop my heart began to sink. I didn’t want our time together to end.

‘Is this you?’ he asked as I came to a stop.

‘Yep.’ I found it hard to look him in the eye.

‘Well,’ he shifted on his heels, ‘I suppose this is goodbye.’

‘Yes I guess it is.’ There was a lump in my throat.

‘OK.’ He looked down the road in the direction he wanted to go. ‘See you soon.’

‘Bye.’ I turned and headed for the door. I wanted to watch him walk away but didn’t have the guts.

Then, just as I pulled the door open, I heard him call. ‘Do you have plans for lunch?’

I swung around in time to see Silvia approaching.

‘Not really,’ I mumbled avoiding looking at Silvia who was paying careful attention to the conversation.

‘How about I meet you here and we have lunch together? What time do you break?’

Silvia stopped walking and stared at Larry. He didn’t appear to notice her.

‘Twelve-thirty.’ I hated having her there.

‘OK. Twelve-thirty it is. I’ll meet you right here. OK?’

‘OK,’ I echoed.

‘See you then,’ he called, turning away.

‘Who was that?’ Silvia demanded, still standing a few feet away.

‘Just a friend,’ I couldn’t meet her eye.

‘A friend?!’ she spat. ‘You don’t have any.’ Silvia flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and pushed past me. But nothing she said could kill the joy I felt inside.

The morning seemed to drag on. I watched the slow minutes circle the clock before it got to twelve twenty-five. Springing out of my chair, I went into the ladies to inspect myself in the mirror.

My reflection was as unimpressive as always.
What are you doing?
I asked the bland face staring back at me.
Who are you kidding?

Things like this didn’t happen to me. Handsome men didn’t want to spend time in my company. They didn’t notice me. They noticed girls like Silvia and Dawn. I wondered if it was all a joke set up by one of my colleagues. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

Poor little Deborah standing outside waiting for someone who isn’t coming.
I imagined them all standing by the window watching and laughing at me and suddenly I felt scared. But I decided it was worth the gamble. I would go outside and wait. Only for three minutes. If he was late, so be it.

When I stepped out into the cold, he was there, waiting for me. I couldn’t believe it.

‘Twelve-thirty exactly.’ He smiled and took a step towards me.

‘I don’t believe in being late. My Mum always said that being punctual was good mannered.’

‘Very sensible woman,’ he said cheerily ‘So where shall we go?’ he asked, looking up at the grey sky.

‘The river?’ The cold never really bothered me.

‘The river it is.’ He sunk his hands into his pockets and I realised he didn’t have a bag with him. Where was his lunch?

‘Back to the bench where we met?’ His question sounded intimate and I liked it.

‘Sure.’ I let him lead the way.

‘So Deborah, how long have you worked at that place?’

He remembered my name.

‘Six months.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I can’t complain. It’s OK.’

‘Well I love my job. I get to spend my time looking into people’s eyes. Literally.’ He laughed.

I imagined beautiful women queuing up to get their eyesight checked by him and it made me feel invisible again.

‘You can tell a lot about a person from their eyes.’

‘Windows to the soul?’

‘Exactly.’ He nodded. ‘Happiness. Fear. It’s all in the eyes.’

We crossed over the footbridge and followed the path along the river until we reached our bench. He signed for me to sit down first and so I did.

‘Pick a side.’

‘A side?’

‘Everyone has a side they prefer.’ He was serious.

‘OK.’ I said sitting down on the left side of the bench.

‘Well, what do you know?’ he chuckled to himself, ‘I always choose the right. That’s neat, isn’t it?’

The bench was damp and I felt the wetness soaking through my uniform. He didn’t seem to notice.

‘No grumpy swans in sight.’ He looked down the river past the houseboats.

‘No ducks either.’

‘They’ll come.’ He was confident.

I opened my rucksack and removed my sandwich, which was slightly squashed.

‘Don’t you have any lunch?’ I asked, biting down into the crusty bread. Mayonnaise spilled out of the sides and on to my fingers.

‘No. I forgot to bring any.’ He was still looking at the river.

‘We could share mine.’ I suggested brushing crumbs off my coat before tearing the sandwich in two.

‘Thanks.’ I handed him his half and he look a large bite. ‘Nice,’ he said, his mouth full.

We sat and ate in silence for a while, enjoying the food and each other’s company until we felt the first raindrops. I looked up at the clouds and cursed the weather for ruining our moment.

‘April showers.’ Larry pulled his brown coat collar up around his square jaw. ‘Shall we go to a café?’

‘I’m not sure I have time. I can’t be late back for work. My boss will be angry.’ I wished I could have been braver.

‘All right then.’ He didn’t even try to convince me to stay and the disappointment I felt was bitter.

I got up from the bench. The rain was coming down more heavily then. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘Why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow?’ He stood up, raindrops running down his nose. ‘I owe you half a sandwich. My treat.’

‘OK.’ I found it hard to contain my happiness.

‘Great. I’ll meet you outside Woolworths tomorrow. Twelve-thirty again?’

‘Sure.’ He was looking at me with such intensity I felt uncomfortable. He had a searching gaze and when he looked at me everything else seemed to melt away.

‘Great. It’s a date then. See you tomorrow.’ Without any warning he leant over and planted a small kiss on my cheek. I felt my face flush with colour as I turned around and quickly walked away. I had never been kissed before, let alone been on a date.

Things with Larry carried on like that for some time. Every weekday we would meet for lunch and, if it wasn’t raining, return to our bench. As the spring retreated and made way for summer I felt myself growing in confidence. Larry seemed genuinely interested in learning all about me. He wanted to know everything there was to know. For the first time in my life I felt special.

I told him all about my family and my mum’s death. He listened intently and never interrupted. He was curious to know about my childhood and what Harlow was like. He grew to know my likes and dislikes and paid attention to it all. Larry had a wonderful memory. He never forgot even the small details.

In turn I learnt all about his life. He was born in 1960 in Peterborough. His father, Jim, and his mother, Linda, moved the family to Cambridge in 1981 when Jim wanted to move job. He was a science teacher. He hated his previous school. The kids there had no respect, Larry said. No doubt he was echoing his dad.

Linda was a homemaker.

Larry had a younger brother, Eric, who, he told me, he got on well with. It seemed Eric had a weakness for gambling and the horses. Larry told me he spent a lot of time in Newmarket at the racecourse. My mother would have described him as a rogue. ‘Stay away from men like that Debbie,’ she would have said. But it wasn’t Eric I was interested in.

Larry’s family lived in a Victorian house they owned in the Romsey area of Cambridge, just off Mill Road. It had three bedrooms and two bathrooms. He came from a better family than I did.

Larry talked all about how he was going to be an optician. He loved eyes, he said. For as long as he could remember he’d been fascinated by sight. He wanted to help people keep seeing, he would say. To have no vision would be scary, he thought, and I agreed. I’d never known anyone have such enthusiasm for anything.

The fact that he loved his job came as real surprise to me. Working in Woolworths was OK, but I couldn’t say I loved it. Larry said I needed to find my calling. He said he’d help me. I told him I liked books and he said I must love eyes, too, because without eyes you couldn’t read. I’d never seen it like that before I said, and he laughed.

‘There’s lots of different ways of looking at the world. You just have to find your own way of seeing it,’ Larry said once. I didn’t really understand what he meant by that back then.

By June we had grown close but those were the early days and our relationship moved at a snail’s pace. He was very respectful. I wasn’t ready for kissing and heavy petting then. I had to get to know him first, to be able to trust him. I was still a virgin and the thought of being anything different terrified me.

I hadn’t met his family and he hadn’t met mine. I liked it just the way it was: the two of us in our private world uncomplicated by adults. Although he was twenty-three and I was seventeen, we still felt like kids inside. But Larry was more grown up than I was. He was older and he had his head screwed on. He knew what direction he wanted to go in. He had plans. I was still working out who I was. Sometimes I used to think that I would never know. But having him in my life helped me to focus. I was caught up in his positive outlook. It started to rub off on me.

On that day as we sat by the river enjoying the warm sunshine, Larry turned to me and said, ‘I think you should hand in your notice at Woolworths. It’s no good for you, Dee.’ That was his nickname for me.

‘I can’t. What else would I do? I need the money.’

‘I know what you should do. You should get a job working in a bookshop. Then you could read all the time.’

‘I don’t know–’

‘Sure you do. It would be perfect. If you worked in the bookshop in the centre you’d be closer to the opticians and I could pop in all the time. It would be great.’

‘They probably don’t have any vacancies–’.

‘They do.’ Again I was cut off. ‘I went in yesterday and asked the woman behind the desk. I told her all about you. How much you love reading, how you don’t really like your current job and she said you should go in and give her your CV. I’ll help you write it, if you like. I’m really good at that sort of thing. I know just want people want to hear.’

I looked down at my chubby pale knees that were sticking out just below the hem of my blue tabard and noticed my legs needed shaving. I’d never shaved my legs before or even thought about doing it. I felt self-conscious and tugged at the skirt hoping Larry wouldn’t notice.

‘What do you think?’ He leant in with his eyebrows raised.