I Remember You

Tess had the house. She had the housemate, she had some friends. It was spring. All she had to do now was start her job. Start the process of living her life here, in this town, seeing some sort of vista stretch out ahead of her. But still, on this, her first day in her new job, it was raining.

‘Byee!’ called Francesca, from inside the cottage. Tess turned round and looked back through the front door, which opened directly onto the cosy sitting room. There, lounging on the sofa, in an embroidered silk Chinese dressing gown, watching TV and munching on toast, was her new flatmate who, this time just over a week ago, she’d never met. Tess smiled.

‘Byeee!’ she called back. ‘Francesca, remember to call BT again about the broadband, will you?’

‘Sure, sure,’ Francesca said reassuringly. ‘Good luck! Have a great time!’

A great time. Tess shut the door behind her and opened up her umbrella. She wasn’t sure about that. Her heart was in her mouth and she was tired, not having slept at all the previous night. She fingered the brochure in her bag, already heavy with textbooks and notes. Langford College had three components: year-long intensive A-level courses, in languages, History of Art, Classical Civilization, English and so on; the shorter options, intensive bursts devoted to one specialized area, anything from cookery to flower arranging to Roman Poetry, usually over a period of a few weeks; and then finally there were visiting professors who gave one-off lectures, an open-air private theatre down by the lake, lovely accommodation—all in the dramatic surroundings of Langford Hall, one of the best and earliest examples of neo-Gothic Victorian architecture, predating even Pugin.

It was a five-minute walk away, standing at the edge of the town in its own grounds. Her first class wasn’t till three. ‘The Splendour That Was Rome’, a two-month course of four classes a week, culminating in a trip to Rome where she, Tess Tennant, would be leading ten people on a tour of the ancient city. And here she stood, on a wet, grey street, shaking with nerves, wishing she could run back inside her nice new cosy home and stay on the sofa with Francesca, watching DVDs all day.

No, she said firmly. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step. Who could she be today, to get her through this? Maria singing ‘I Have Confidence’ in The Sound of Music? Too chirpy. Meryl Streep in The French Lieutenant’s Woman? Too…prostitutey. Lizzy Bennet. Yes, when in doubt, think of J. Austen on the wall and Lizzy Bennet. Calm, funny, her own person. Tess set off down the street with something approximating a spring in her step; if Lizzy Bennet was alive today, she reasoned, she could easily be Tess, setting off to teach Roman history to a group of retired posh people. Actually, she was more convinced Lizzy Bennet would be an ethical trader at KPMG, storing up a handful of assets in advance of any impending market collapse which she would then redistribute to deserving causes, but never mind. Twirling her umbrella, she tripped across the uneven cobblestones to the end of the street, where Lord’s Lane met the high street, the main road that led out to the edge of town.

‘Tess?’ called a voice from behind her suddenly, and Tess swivelled round wildly. She was unsure where the voice had come from; that was the unnerving thing about living in Langford, she had realized. You were never quite sure who knew you and who didn’t. In London, no one knew you. It was kind of nice. Sometimes.

‘Tess! Yoo hoo!’

Walking along the high street towards her was a vaguely familiar woman, neatly dressed in a Husky jacket and head-scarf.

‘Tess! Ah. I knew it was you,’ said the woman, smiling broadly, showing enormous teeth. ‘I said to myself, I bet that’s Tess!’

Diana? Carolyn? Jean? Tess asked herself wildly. Something like that. God, it’s on the tip of my tongue. Audrey? Jean? It’s Jean, I’m sure it’s Jean.

‘I’m doing your course!’ the woman said, proudly. ‘Present from Jeremy! Bless him.’

Jeremy…Jeremy and…who the hell was it? Tess racked her brains for the magic formula of garbled couples’ names. Something and Jeremy…And then realization dawned.

Jan and Jeremy! Jan Allingham! Of course. ‘You are? That’s great! Hello, Jan!’ Tess said, smiling brightly at Jan Allingham (for it was she), who held out her hand.

‘Well, here you are, here we are,’ said Jan, briskly patting her short, rigidly waved hair. ‘We’re going to be your first students, you know.’

Tess looked at her watch in alarm. It was just before eleven. ‘The first class isn’t till three,’ she said.

‘Oh, I know, I know!’ Jan cried. ‘I wanted to come a bit early. Get my bearings, complete the registration forms, have a look round.’

‘Oh!’ said Tess, weakly. ‘That’s very…That’s great!’

‘You enjoying being back then, dear?’

‘Yes,’ said Tess. ‘It’s great. Very excited about teaching, too.’

‘You seen lots of Adam, then?’ Jan asked, tapping Tess’s arm. ‘Shall we carry on walking?’ she said, as she carried on walking. ‘The two of you when you were little—so adorable.’ Tess smiled politely. ‘Isn’t it funny, when I can remember you peeing into a potty! And now you’re going to be teaching me!’

‘You only moved here when I was a teenager,’ said Tess firmly.

‘Oh, well, details!’ Jan cried happily. ‘Now, who’s this flatmate of yours, that gorgeously glamorous girl, the one who I keep seeing with your Adam? Andrea’s seen them together a few times, says they’re quite the item.’

Tess nodded. ‘Francesca. Yes. She’s absolutely lovely.’

‘So nice for Adam after everything—’ Jan mouthed the word everything. ‘It must be good for him.’

Since there was no answer to this but a short, sympathetic Mmm, Tess said, ‘Mmm.’

‘A nice steady girlfriend. And rich too. I heard she was a banker.’

They turned onto the high street, which was almost deserted, its shops dark and the houses forbidding, in the soft March rain. ‘I don’t think they’re actually boyfriend and girlfriend—’ Tess began timidly, but Jan interrupted her.

‘Diana! Hellooo!’ she called loudly, as a figure in front of them in a flared corduroy skirt turned around cautiously. ‘Diana! It’s me! You remember Diana, don’t you?’

‘Is that Tess?’ said Diana Sayers, walking towards them. ‘Hello, Tess.’ From under a short, severe fringe she nodded briefly at Tess, who smiled back, unable to remember where or how she knew Diana. ‘I’m taking your course, just off to have a look around and complete the registration forms, all that.’

‘Oh! How nice,’ said Tess, her mind racing. Vicar? Baker? Candlestick maker? ‘That’s—’

‘Bit of a busman’s holiday for you, isn’t it, Diana?’ Jan said, tapping Diana on the arm again, as if motioning her to move off like a carthorse. ‘I’d have thought you’d have had enough of schools for a while!’

Of course. Diana Sayers! Mrs Sayers, the Langford primary school secretary. Adam’s godmother. Philippa’s best friend, she hadn’t seen her for years, how could she have forgotten her?

‘I thought it was probably about time I actually learned something now I’m retired,’ Diana said gruffly. ‘Sick of children. Don’t care if I never see another one.’

‘Aaah. That’s nice,’ murmured Jan, not really listening, and Tess bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

‘Cross here,’ Diana commanded, raising her left arm high in the air, and the little crocodile obediently crossed the road.

‘Did you go to the meeting last week at the pub?’ Jan said. ‘Andrea’s furious with me for not going, but I had to wait in and pick Jeremy up from the station. Some stupid golfing day, bloody idiot. She said it went well,’ she added, inconsequentially. ‘Ron’s wonderful at organizing that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, I went,’ Diana said, nodding. ‘Only briefly though. Andrea’s started the petition, she’s going to take it round the town. I thought we should probably give copies to people like your Jeremy, Jan, get him to pin it up in the office? I mean, Thornham’s only a couple of miles away from here, they’ll be affected if this bloody superstore goes ahead too.’

‘I must say,’ said Jan, ignoring her. ‘That Family—I’ve broken with them. Simply broken with the Mortmains, and Carolyn Tey can waggle over to me with her big sad cow eyes all she wants and say, “Oh, Jan, I know Mrs Mortmain’s ever so grateful to you for your support,” when that damned woman wants the PCC to approve her horrible fence so she doesn’t have to look at any ordinary people. But they’re going to have to learn a lesson! We won’t take it any more! Ooh—’ she said, breaking off. ‘I do like your shoes, Diana. Where did you get them? I’ve been looking for something like that. Something a bit smart, but with a plimsoll lining.’ She emphasized the ‘l’s in plimsoll, so it sounded like pllllllimmmsollllll. ‘Can you walk far in them?’

‘Good grief, Jan,’ said Diana crisply. ‘Do concentrate! We need to stand shoulder to shoulder on this.’ She turned sharply towards them and said coldly, ‘Until we do—’

‘Goodness!’ Jan called. Tess looked up; there in front of them were the stone pillars at the start of the drive. ‘We’re here—and look who’s over there! Talk of the devil! It’s Carolyn and Jacquetta! We said we’d meet for coffee, but I wasn’t sure if they’d make it too! Tess, you remember Carolyn! I don’t know if you’d have met Jacquetta…’

Of course Tess vaguely thought she might, once, have met Carolyn, but she knew better by now than to admit that she actually had no idea who she was. She felt as if she were in a parallel universe, that this Langford, full of scary ladies in Marks and Spencer Footgloves, had been bobbing outside her window, waiting to pounce on her for the last few days while she watched TV or made food or walked to the pub, sandwiched between Adam and Francesca.

Carolyn was a fair, pretty woman with rather faded looks and an anxious expression. ‘Hello, dear,’ she said, nervously, as if she expected Tess to bite her. ‘This is very nice, isn’t it. You know—’

‘Jacquetta Meluish,’ said her companion, standing tall and pushing her wavy dark gold long hair out of the way, slowly and deliberately.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Tess. ‘Don’t you work in that shop on the high street? The one with all the nice cake stands and notelets in it?’

‘I own Knick-Knacks,’ Jacquetta said, slightly tightly. ‘Have done for ten years now.’ She pronounced it yiaahs. ‘I should tell you now, Tess, isn’t it?—that I received a First in Greats, Some Years Ago. I feel it best to be honest now, from the start, about my Unfair Advantage. Aha-ha-ha.’ She gave what Tess assumed she felt was a self-deprecating laugh.

Oh, God, Tess thought. She remembered with a flash of fondness Year Ten at Fair View, none of whom had ever given her this much grief. Yes, one of them had been found carrying a knife, but Tess had believed Carl when he said it was for cutting the twine on parcels. ‘I’ll go on ahead,’ she called politely, as the knot of women behind her waved and carried on chatting, while she set off up the short drive to the house, the words, ‘Really? This is your birthday present? Oh, he is wonderful,’ ‘I know, Richard said she looked quite mad,’ and ‘Well, of course, she complained to the diocese about him,’ echoing behind her, and the dark, forbidding house with its turrets stabbing the cloudy sky ahead. Francesca, the sofa and the TV seemed a long way away.

A couple of hours later, as Tess’s eye scanned over the list of her twenty new pupils, her heart sank. There were far more names on it than she’d expected to recognize; somehow the idea that she might actually be teaching people she knew hadn’t occurred to her, much less that they’d be the parents of people she grew up with, or people her mother had served sherry to. Beth Kennett, the head of the college, a sensible woman in her late thirties, had explained it to her with a smile, handing her a cup of tea in the stately but draughty staffroom.

‘We always get an influx of Langford locals this time of year, I don’t know why. Perhaps they’ve been given it for Christmas. Derek always said it was most likely their New Year’s resolution to do something different, plus they all want the trip to Rome,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘But Andrea was saying they’ve all been rather excited about you, you know. You grew up here, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Tess. She was still a little shaken from her walk in. ‘God, I had no idea. It’s been years—’

‘Well,’ said Beth kindly, ‘you just have to let them know who’s boss.’

Tess thought of Jan and Jacquetta. ‘That’s easier said than done.’

‘Come on,’ said Beth, a little briskly. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and jabbed a small finger onto the list of names. ‘There’s plenty of other people in the class too, you know! You’ve come from one of the toughest schools in South London. Wasn’t there a hostage situation there last year? This should be a walk in the park!’

A walk in the park. Tess cleared her throat, now, and looked up, as a watery shaft of sun shone through the huge leaded window of the room. Her notes, which she had written and rewritten, and her lesson plan, lay in front of her, on the old wooden lectern. She loved this moment, when she had them in the palm of her hand, when she knew they were to learn all these wonderful things, hear about these amazing civilizations, that would transform the way they saw their own world. She began:

‘Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.’

The class looked at her as she spoke; they had ceased to be Jans and Dianas and Jacquettas; they were a mass of faces, the majority unknown to her. They were hers.

‘Some of you will know Rome; you might have been there already. I’m sure you all recognize the Colosseum, or know what a temple looks like. I know you’ve all heard of Antony and Cleopatra, or crazy Nero. Perhaps you’ve read I Claudius, or seen Gladiator. You know that Roman civilization is everywhere still among us.’

She paused. Her eyes ranged up, to the window.

‘But what I hope this course will give you is a full understanding of the grandeur and the glory that was Rome, why it is so important to us still today, and how it shaped the modern world as we know it. Everything from the month of August to the word “comprehensive” to the way we vote, with a bit of Star Wars, some wine, the best speeches you’ll ever hear and for some of you, a nice trip to Italy thrown in along the way.’

Tess unclenched her hands, which she realized had been scrunched up at her sides, as the class gave a small, appreciative laugh, their upturned faces watching her. Someone opened an exercise book; someone else uncapped a pen, someone cleared their throat. They were relaxing into this. Now it could begin; she looked around, wondering why she still felt uneasy.

Then the door opened. Tess looked up at the creaking sound, to see a silhouette ahead of her. A pair of eyes bore into her with dark intensity. Leonora Mortmain, dressed in black, her hand clutching a stick, began her descent into the bowels of the classroom, looking at no one. She nodded, unblinking, briefly acknowledging Tess’s eyes on her, and Tess nearly reared back in shock—so wizened was the face in front of her, so emotionless and yet intense her gaze. Her progress was slow but steady, and gradually everyone turned around to see her, Leonora Mortmain, the most hated woman in the town, walking down the steps of her old family home, and when the class saw who it was, a couple turned back but the rest, horrified, began to mutter amongst themselves. Diana Sayers looked murderous; Jan Allingham shook her head. Slowly, Leonora Mortmain lowered herself into a chair in the front row, and nodded slowly, as if granting permission for the lesson to go ahead.

‘She—’ ‘Why?’ ‘I can’t believe—’ Like reeds by a stream, the rushing whispering began, until Tess rapped on the lectern, and some of them jumped; not Leonora Mortmain, however. Tess clapped her hands.

‘Silence, please.’

She had forgotten, too, the calm that came with being in charge of a class: she had no command over her own life but here, here was different. They were instantly quiet. ‘Thanks. Now, let’s begin. I want you to listen to this. I’m going to read you a speech, one of a series written by the greatest orator who ever lived. If you have an enemy—’ she cast a quelling glance around the room—‘tackle him like this. If you want to make your case against them, say it like this.’

Holding up Cicero’s Philippics, she began to read, her hands shaking only slightly.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dear Tess,

Hi. I hope you got my message. I still have your old writing bureau in my attic, the one you stored there after the burglary. I’m selling the flat as we’re buying a house and so I should like to give it back to you. Ticky and I are going to a wedding in Dorset next month. May I drop it off then?

I hope your new life in Langford is going well. Will

Dear Tess,

Hi! How’s it going in the countryside? Danced round any maypoles yet? How’s the job? That’s great news about the house, but who the hell is this random girl you’re moving in with? Sorry about all the questions, I need an update!

It’s all cool here. Cathy has settled in OK, I think it’ll be fine living with her. Anil asked me out. We’re going to the cinema next week. No big deal, he’s nice so we’ll see. Crazy John had a party upstairs with his crazy crackhead friends on Saturday, someone called the police and he got taken away! Can you believe it. Mr Azeem’s got burned down last week, they think some lads did it.

The reason I was emailing as well is because Will aka Wuell phoned yesterday. He didn’t know you’d left London. He was a bit surprised. Anyway, he said he’d tried your mobile and you hadn’t answered, a couple of times. He wanted your address. And he says he wants to be friends. That was what he wanted me to tell you! He said he’s going down to Dorset in a couple of weeks, he’ll be in touch and maybe try and pop by with Ticky (that’s her name, right?). I said nothing. Tess, I hope that’s OK. Didn’t know what else to do.

Also you still owe me ?7 for the bills, remember. Sorry to chase

Speak soon Tess.

Meena x x x

Hi Meena,

Long time no e and I’m really sorry I haven’t been in touch properly. It’s been really hectic here—started job two weeks ago, been trying to sort everything out and prepare all the courses and stuff. Apologies.

The job is going well. It’s odd, going from teaching some bored 14 yr olds to all these super-keen people who’ve PAID to have you TEACH THEM. It’s posher than I’d realized, standards are v high—I don’t know if I’d have come here if I’d known, I’d have been too scared. But teaching people who want to learn…great.

Francesca is really cool, you’d like her. Except she’s even messier than me, you wouldn’t like that. She got made redundant so she decided to escape from London for a few months. She’d been here on a school trip and always liked it. I thought she might be a bit too Londony, but she’s hilarious. She’s got something going on with Adam, you remember my old friend Adam? They are ‘seeing each other’, but they’re both being hilariously casual about it. MUCH LIKE YOU AND ANIL. That is SO COOL Meen—so the date was this week? Tell me how it went?

It’s so lovely here, Meen, when are you coming to stay? Most days I come back from college and Francesca’s here and we watch TV and slump on the sofa or I cook and potter around the house, or else go to the pub which is about five minutes away, with Adam and Suggs and people from college. I can go for long walks whenever I want, and it’s getting lighter in the evenings and it’s so beautiful. I’m happy here.

Last, not long till I go to Italy in June!!!! A whole week in Rome—only drawback is it’s me and loads of crazy middle-aged people who ask questions the WHOLE time, but still, it’ll be lovely.

Lots of love

Tess x x x x

PS Sorry, just reread your email. Will pay money back asap.

PPS And Ticky…………Ticky!!! Fucking TICKY WHO CALLS THEMSELVES THAT.

‘Tess?’ The white wooden front door, which swung alarmingly at the slightest touch, was flung suddenly open as Tess, who had been typing furiously at the computer, swivelled round.

‘Oh, hi,’ she said, as Francesca barrelled into the sitting room of Easter Cottage, a small but light room which doubled as a hall, storage area, sitting room and dining room. ‘Where have you been? Wow.’ She deleted the last line of her email to Meena, then pressed ‘Send’. ‘Look at all those bags!’ she said, standing up, her heart beating. ‘Wow,’ she said again.

‘I know,’ Francesca panted. ‘Done some shopping.’ She dumped the bags carelessly on the wooden floor and slumped onto the sofa. ‘I’m completely and totally exhausted, Tess.’ She kicked off her gold flip-flops; constraints of weather and water never really affected Francesca’s footwear choice, Tess had noticed. The flip-flops skidded next to Tess’s school shoes; sturdy brown slip-on brogues, covered in mud.

‘Where did you go?’ said Tess, crouching over the bags. ‘There’s loads! How did you find the shops? It’s a small town!’

‘I wanted some retail therapy,’ said Francesca. ‘Some stuff for the house.’ She held up a small blue cube. ‘Look! Got this at that really cool shop up by the lanes, the one that sells Alessi stuff. It’s a lamp.’

‘Right,’ said Tess. ‘Wow, it’s…’

Francesca was pulling other things out of the bag, Mary Poppins-like. ‘A plate from Arthur’s! Decoration for the side table!’

‘What side table?’ Tess asked, looking around her.

‘The side table that I bought at the antique shop! The one next to the butcher’s, after the car park!’ Francesca was beaming. She pushed her hair coolly out of her eyes. ‘This place is going to look amazing, once I’ve finished—’ she halted. ‘We’ve finished…er, doing it up.’ She looked up at Tess, who was standing over her, her hands on her hips, and said breezily, ‘It’s marvellous. Great, isn’t it?’

‘Great, if you’re paying for it,’ said Tess, firmly. ‘Francesca, I’ve barely got any money for, oh, I don’t know. Silly things, like forks, and Pantene.’ She took her hands off her hips, knowing she looked a little confrontational, and tried to let her arms swing casually by her sides, as though this was normal, as though it wasn’t really, horribly tricky. Less than a month they’d lived together and she really didn’t want it to be a mistake. She didn’t want Meena to say, ‘I knew it’d never work out. Crazy idea!’

She hated flatmate confrontations and was still amazed at how perfectly normal people could behave so strangely when sharing accommodation with others. Money. It was always about money. Will’s hideously posh but otherwise polite flatmate, Lucinda, had suddenly announced that Tess should contribute to the rent when she was staying the night there, that they should keep a note of the days she stayed over and split the monthly rental three ways on those days. In their third year of university, Tess’s friend Emma had perfectly calmly announced one morning that she thought Tess should pay her two pounds fifty for letting her borrow her silvery top the previous night. Francesca was kind of the opposite; Tess could feel herself turning into Lucinda or Emma.

Yesterday Francesca had said, without irony, ‘Do you think we should just buy a proper dinner service? There’s a lovely one I saw online at Selfridges. It’s only a couple of hundred quid or so.’

Tess watched her new flatmate now. ‘But it’s—’ Francesca began.

‘Francesca!’ Tess said, exasperated. ‘I don’t want a plate. Or a side table. Or a dinner service for eighteen people when we’ve only got three chairs! Stop spending money to make yourself feel—’ She stopped, aware the words were too far out of her mouth. Francesca stared at her. There was silence in the little sitting room. The last of the day’s light shone bravely through the dusty windows.