Dear Anybody Read online

  Living with Carey made me a bit more health conscious when it came to food choices. Carey is so slender and looks athletic as she walks around the house in leggings and Lycra tops without a big shirt over the top to hide the wobbly bits. She has no wobbly bits, just muscle and a great figure. Carey has been away on a photo shoot in Bristol since yesterday and is back this evening. I intended to make her a nice dinner and together we could celebrate my first Bridley Green publication as well as Carey’s shoot. She told me the photos would be appearing in an interior textiles magazine the following month.

  Just before the magazine staff and I leave the kitchen, and the pastries, so that distribution can be organised, Jenna has other plans about how I’m going to spend my evening.

  ‘We should take this celebration to The Crown tonight. We’ve all been down in the dumps and just muddling through until Sydney joined us. Let’s get some real drinks in and make a night of it. They’ve got karaoke tonight.’

  There is a collective groan from everyone.

  ‘If we’re celebrating, we should go to somewhere like Frankie’s,’ Beth says. ‘You always go to The Crown on a Thursday.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with a bit of karaoke,’ Jenna says. ‘You all ought to try it some time instead of mocking.’

  ‘We have tried it,’ says Mags. ‘But some of us hog the microphone and if I have to listen to Chasing Pavements one more time I’ll scream.’

  ‘So I’ll pick another song.’ Jenna is doing her best to smile away any doubts. ‘In fact, I won’t sing, if you all promise to get up on stage. What do you think, Sydney? You’re new in town and none of us have taken you out to show you what Bridley has to offer have we?’

  I want to say that it’s probably for the best if the two nights out I’d had already were anything to go by.

  ‘I’m sure you fancy a bit of karaoke every now and again.’ Jenna is prompting a response from me but my eyes have glazed over, remembering a time when I’d gone to karaoke with Helena at a cellar bar near Oxford Street. We put our names down several times using aliases so that we could sing more than once. I’d sung, What A Feeling as Claudia Winkleman, I Like Big Butts as Lisa Simpson and Rehab as Kate Middleton. It was a wonder Helena and I didn’t get slung out. Each time we took to the stage we’d do something to our appearance to make it seem as if we were someone else. A pair of sunglasses, a jacket worn inside out. Helena took off her silk blouse and sang in a vest top and I piled my hair up in scrunchy. We laughed so much I almost wet myself. I was missing being home and having a best friend.

  ‘Sydney?’

  ‘Yes?’ I say, coming back to the present.

  ‘Is that a “yes” you fancy going down to The Crown?’ Jenna looks excited. I can’t burst her bubble.

  ‘Well, why not?’ I say. These people are the closest I have to friends and they are a really good bunch. ‘I’ll text Carey and ask her to come and join.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Jenna enthuses. ‘The food is good so we can have our dinner there and make a night of it.’

  Jenna keeps singing little bursts of songs throughout the rest of the day and Beth mockingly rolls her eyes. Meanwhile, I’m in planning mode for next month’s issue. I’m thinking about themes for the front cover. Rather than snaps taken from Jack’s iPhone, I was thinking of asking Carey to take some shots. I checked with Alexandra, there is a budget for it. I have no idea what Carey’s rates are, mind you, I just know she’s an excellent photographer and I might ask her to judge a photography competition I’m planning on running. As for the themed covers, I thought it might be nice to feature a person and their business. We could run an article on their work. Of course, we’d include Damian and his coffee house. Just as Mags always picks up a bunch of perks from local business who advertise with us, the featured business might do the same. So far, Mags had passed on to me vouchers for a spa day at a big hotel close to the village. We were also looking forward to a free buffet lunch at a hotel restaurant who are advertising their Christmas parties. It was the closest I was going to get to Wowcher in a place like Bridley and I never got any perks from my last job.

  *

  The Crown is a quaint looking pub quite close to Jenna’s house and just on the outskirts of the village, the opposite side to Carey’s house. I booked the taxi driver, Alistair, courtesy of Alexandra who insisted it was a condition of the job that I have use of her taxi account. It wasn’t that I’d planned a heavy night of drinking but getting around Bridley wasn’t easy without a car and I had been making do with going everywhere on foot. Though I thought walking could help me lose weight, I’m no athlete and I haven’t invested in a pair of sensible shoes for country living. Mind you, the only places I’d really been were to and from work, to Damian’s or to the farm up the road for eggs. I had been keeping quite a low profile other than that.

  There’s a lovely atmosphere at The Crown. Like Frankie’s, it is a bit like being in someone’s living room, only The Crown has banquettes and optics and a dog sleeping by the bar. It’s small but welcoming, low ceilinged with wooden beams and a patterned carpet that has worn patches here and there.

  We find a large table next to the karaoke organiser’s booth. They’re setting up as a sickly-looking lad brings us menus.

  ‘Steak is off,’ he says and walks away.

  ‘I’ll get us a round in,’ says Jenna. And so the night begins.

  Jenna is the first to sing when the karaoke gets going. She is also the second and third singer of the night. It seems as if everyone is either too intimidated by Jenna’s enthusiasm and vitality to sing or she’s paid off the karaoke organisers so she gets star treatment. Either way, Jenna is entertaining. Loud, confident and extremely pitchy. She’s got some great moves, though.

  I spot a familiar face signing up for a song. Ruthie, from Frankie’s is there with friends and she confidently takes to the stage with some whoops and cheers from her table. I think I see someone from the football team and quickly place my lager glass in front of my face. I’d asked for a bottle of light beer but Jenna came back with a pint glass of draught lager for me. Ruthie puts Jenna’s efforts into the shadow after just one bar of Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. Her voice is clear and strong and I knew she was talented since I’d heard her singing while setting up the restaurant.

  My hands are hurting as I join the enthusiastic applause following Ruthie’s performance.

  ‘She’s amazing,’ I say. Beth, sitting beside me, agrees but Jenna picks up her wine glass, a brief scowl crossing her face before she takes a sip.

  ‘Well, if you like understated, I suppose,’ Jenna replies in a soft voice.

  I try not to react and raise my enormous pint glass, looking around the pub which is suddenly quite full. Sitting at the bar I notice Damian. He’s relaxed and casual in skinny black jeans and a loose sweater. His hair looks freshly washed, he’s clean shaven for a change and he’s blatantly staring over at me. Should I wave? I’m not sure I can handle being chatted up in front of my team of staff. Maybe I should offer to get the next round and strike up a conversation with him at the bar. For now, I decide on a nod of the head. No need to rush anything, I’m here for another couple of months.

  Eventually Damian waves and both Beth and I wave back. I continue taking furtive glances over at Damian as Beth chatters away about the new puppy she adopted from a shelter. Apparently, it bit into her slippers and the skirting of her mother’s sofa. At twenty-seven Beth is single and stills lives at home. I suspect she’s the type to carry on living at home until she marries a farmer or a vicar. She’s got the peaches and cream wholesome, country girl vibe going on and I’m certain her mother will pass on the family recipes of meat pies to her when she finally marries. Tonight, her two plaits are undone and her strawberry blonde hair lies in Mills and Boons waves down to her shoulders. Her skin is flawless and her large, violet eyes are set off by the longest lashes I’ve seen on a woman without falsies or mascara enhancements. I would hate her if I didn’t know her.<
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  As we talk, I miss my opportunity to get a round in because Mags does the honours. The singers take to the stage in varying degrees of painfully bad and the sleeping dog scarpered when a portly man in work overalls sang Robbie Williams’ Let Me Entertainment You. All the time Damian is just staring over at me. It’s a little uncomfortable and I’m missing half of what Beth is saying. I can’t hear any of the jokes Bartie is cracking on the other side of the table with Jack and Jenna.

  ‘Am I boring you?’ Beth asks when I’ve let my eyes drift over to the bar once too often.

  ‘No. Not at all. It’s just that Damian is here and I wondered if I should say hello. You know? He’s someone else in Bridley I know. Plus, I’m looking out for Carey.’ I know for a fact she isn’t coming because she’d sent a text earlier.

  Beth turns around to look over at Damian. He waves enthusiastically at us and we wave back, both of us smiling at him. Just then Mags and Jenna call over to Beth. Without her knowledge they’ve put her down for a song. They better not have done the same for me. I don’t want to put Damian off before we’ve even had a conversation that doesn’t involve baked goods.

  ‘I told you I didn’t want to sing,’ Beth says with a giggle. Mags and Jenna haul her up from her seat, anyway, and walk her to the stage. Very loudly I start to clap and whoop to encourage her onto the stage. No one else is clapping and whooping and I slip further down the banquette to hide my flushed cheeks. A quick glance over at Damian tells me he’s spotted my embarrassment and he’s very kindly averted his eyes. He glues them to the stage as Beth adjusts the microphone stand and lets out a timid cough over the PA system.

  ‘I usually only sing this one in the shower,’ says Beth.

  Ruthie’s male friends start to wolf whistle. Ruthie punches one of them in the arm and the first bar of Hallelujah pipes in. Beth begins a rhythmic, two step, waiting for her cue. Her smiley pink lips open and I’m completely taken aback. It seems to come as no surprise to anyone else that Beth has a beautiful singing voice. It’s full and strong with a warmth that appears to enrapture everyone in the room. The crowd is stilled to silence and hang on each of Beth’s words. Then she closes her eyes and her vocals soar. I feel a swell of pride as if I’ve manufactured her voice myself and when I look at the magazine staff they are as puffed up with pride as I am. Beth is absolutely amazing. With a maniacal smile on my face I turn to Damian for an exchange of knowing glances, but he is as transfixed by Beth’s dulcet tones as the next person and doesn’t acknowledge me.

  ‘Beth!’ I exclaim when she plonks herself into the seat beside me. ‘You totally rock. I mean, wow. Where did that come from?’

  ‘Oh, you know?’ She sips her red wine and gives a furtive glance towards the bar where Damian is holding up both his thumbs.

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ I enthuse. ‘I mean, that is like The X Factor good. Better even. You really are a dark horse.’

  ‘Oh don’t,’ she says. ‘My mother is a musician. She used to play cello for an orchestra. Taught me piano and how to sing but I never really got on with the cello.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Your voice is just so amazing and totally unique. I’m buying you another drink. What will it be?’

  ‘I’ll be going soon.’ She tries to stop me but I’m up.

  ‘Same again?’ I call to our table and they all either answer in the affirmative or raise an empty glass. In a second I’m at the bar and a breath away from Damian who beams at me as I approach.

  ‘What did you think of our girl?’ I ask him, gesturing over my shoulder to our table.

  ‘As always, a great performance. How are you keeping? Not seen you at the coffee house in a while.’

  ‘I know. But I need to be wary of too many cakes and pastries. If you see what I mean?’

  Damian leans back and takes in my entire physique, eyes sweeping from top to toe and back again. I gently draw in my lower abs which seem to want to splurge out via the zip of my jeans all on their own.

  ‘Nothing wrong with what I see,’ he says adding another of his flirtatious grins. ‘The odd pie does wonders. As my mother says, young girls these days are at risk of disappearing into their own shoes if they don’t start eating more.’

  ‘Well, I think I’m a long way off that.’

  I order a round of drinks from the frizzy haired barman who’s been patiently waiting for me and Damian to stop flirting. I ask for a sparkling water for myself making sure Damian knows it’s for me because his eyes are still on my body. As I’m handed my drinks, wondering if I should have asked Damian what he was having, he suddenly stands, drains his drink and pushes his glass across to the barman.

  ‘Better go,’ he says. ‘Early start.’

  ‘Yes, those lovely cakes won’t bake themselves.’ I don’t know what I can say to make him stay without sounding desperate.

  ‘More’s the pity,’ he says trying to suppress a yawn. ‘See ya.’

  With that he’s gone, leaving me perplexed about how he actually feels about me. His emotions seem to switch on and off like a light bulb. One minute he’s being flirtatious and complimentary, the next he’s brushing me off and can’t wait to get away.

  Back at the table I put our drinks tray down and notice Damian hovering by the door. I look over and he seems to want to say something but in the blink of an eye the door is swinging shut and Damian is gone. I can only assume that there is a shy baker behind all the cocky bravado he displays at the coffee house. Maybe he’s more likely to make a move if I’m at the coffee house. He’d dropped a big enough hint that he hadn’t seen me in a while. All the same, I shouldn’t rush into anything. I’m far from over Rob and maybe it shows. I might have his scent or something. I suppose I should take it as slowly as Damian is. Maybe that’s the sensible thing to do.

  Rob seems to have dropped off the radar now. The calls and texts have ceased altogether. Maybe he has moved on. With her? I wonder. Maybe I should make a move on Damian after all. If Rob is with her, I don’t want to be sat at home pining after him.

  As Jenna rushes on stage to do a duet with Mags, a duet in which it’s mainly Jenna’s face up close to the microphone, I contemplate going on a date.

  Chapter 18

  A week after publication another letter from L comes into the office addressed to Dear Vicky. It’s a little less sombre than the previous ones. I had worried that I’d say the wrong things and send her spiralling. If that had happened I don’t know what I would have done. I had feared that without any training as an Agony Aunt I’d mess everything up. It just goes to show that the only qualification I needed was to have problems of my own.

  L thanks me for the advice I gave. That is, accepting her friends’ offer to come down for the anniversary and attempt to start rebuilding her life. She’s grateful and says she’ll try really hard. I’m so chuffed to get this news I go and grab a coffee and spend the next half hour Googling how to become a therapist.

  I turn my attention back to my actual work when I remember something my previous colleague, Rani, at The Kilburn Times had said to me. She’d remarked on my lack of focus at work and the amount of time I spent searching for jobs when I should have been concentrating on the one I had. I take heed now, remembering my pledge to do better in life as well as in love.

  Looking at the Dear Vicky in-box, I notice a rise in the number of problems that have been emailed in as well as have arrived by post. I decide to make one of them the letter of the month, take the focus off L for a change. I skim through. Someone is having problems with acne, someone else wants to know if a residential home is worth considering for a mother who keeps trying to roast chickens in the fridge. Someone else has a problem with a depressed pig. But one in particular catches my eye and makes me want to read it through to the end.

  Dear Vicky

  I have never written to you before but there’s a first time for everything. You’ve helped a lot of people in the past, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. It’s four o’clock in the morning and I’m think
ing about a woman. I don’t mean it like that. I mean she gives me a lot to think about. She isn’t like anyone around here. I feel as if I can see into her soul. It’s a beautiful soul. She’s a beautiful woman and I want to find a way to tell her so. There is a barrier, though. The past. It shouldn’t matter but I think she is letting it stop her expressing her true feelings. What can I do to show her that no matter what happened before, we must live for the now? I think she might be as interested in me as I am her but I’m afraid to approach her.

  I’m not a schoolboy by the way, although I may sound a little like one. But I feel like a kid with a crush when I see her and I don’t know what to say. I want to be able to show her I am a man in love but where to start?

  Anon

  I flop back against my chair, mouth open, pulling off my glasses and then putting them back on to re-read the letter. I squint as I contemplate the contents of the letter and analyse it for clues. Rubbing my chin, the penny drops. I know exactly who Anon is. The letter is dripping with clues: “She isn’t like anyone around here.” Obviously this is about me. I’m new to Bridley so of course I’m not like anyone around here. “There is a barrier, though. The past.” Anon has managed to tap into the misery I’ve been trying to cover up since I arrived. Oh my God, Anon is Damian. I mean, who else would be up at four in the morning? Someone who has to start baking early, of course. How perceptive of him to have picked up on my having a past. He knew I would read this. And now he wants me to make my feelings known.