He Loves Me He Loves Me Not

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Coming back down to earth with a bump, my ears were still ringing, remembering Sarah’s advice. “You can’t be serious, you can’t reply to him, if you do you are going to get hurt again, I just know it,” she said. My hands started shaking as I made the decision to reply to Rob’s notice. Then I stopped. What was I thinking of? What if Sarah is right? What if I get hurt again? Should I respond, or should I just forget it? But then, I might never know why he is trying to make contact with me. I would always be left wondering. I know just what to do. I’ll toss a coin and let fate decide. If it comes up heads, I will email back. Now, I started to question whether I should toss the coin or not? What a dilemma. Yes, of course, I must. If it’s heads, I’ll email him back. If it’s heads, I’ll email him back. Repeating these words, over and over in my head, I attempted to convince myself I was doing the right thing. I flipped the coin. Trapping it onto the back of my hand, which by now was shaking uncontrollably, I stared at my hands. Keeping one eye tightly closed, I peered through the other eye. The coin had been tossed and realising there was nothing I could do to alter the outcome, I knew I would just have to follow it through. Nervously and slowly, I lifted my hand to reveal the coin. Then, leaning back in my chair, as though that would make some kind of difference, the coin was now completely visible. Oh my God, it’s come up heads. With my heart thumping, I realised I would have to respond. I sat considering what to type. Typing the email address was the easy part – done! Now, what reply should I send? Eventually, I decided on:

Yes, it is my birthday on 11th August. Thank you for reminding me. (Another year older).

Pleased with my response, I convinced myself it was adequate, without giving too much away. It was fairly non-committal, yet confirmed what he already seemed to know about me. With my eyes fixed on the screen and with my heart almost out of control, it must have been ten minutes before I eventually pressed the ‘SEND’ key. Done! There’s no going back now. I’ll phone Sarah and let her know what I have done.

I should have anticipated her outburst. “WHAT! You answered that notice in the paper. Oh Gillian, have you gone completely off your trolley?”

I could sense another lecture coming. Sarah rang off, still muttering. Sarah’s worried about me, I realise that. Our friendship goes back over sixty years, back to when we were children. We lived just a few doors apart, attended the same schools and eventually started work at the same time at Julio’s, the ladies’ hairdressers in the centre of Frankley. She is such a dear friend and I know she’s only trying to stop me from getting hurt, but I have to find out why Rob is trying to make contact with me. Attempting to convince myself that nothing could possibly go wrong, I went to bed, certain I had done the right thing in sending the email but it was difficult to sleep.

Saturday 10th August:

Still no reply! Why hadn’t Rob responded to my email? Perhaps he had changed his mind and didn’t want to go through with it after all. Feeling in a sombre mood, disappointment began to set in. I was so deep in thought, that when the phone rang, I almost fell off the chair.

“Hello, it's Beth here. Have you seen the paper? It appears someone from the past is wishing you a happy birthday. Do you know who it is? They put 1961. We were working at the hairdressers in that year. Do you think it’s a client? Have you any idea who it is?” News spreads fast here in Frankley and as sweet as Beth is, she’s the town’s gossip and unable to keep a secret, so a little white lie seemed the best solution.

Answering her, with my fingers crossed and squeezed tightly together, I replied, “No, I have no idea who those initials belong to and I’m not going to respond.”

“Well, I’m intrigued, even if you’re not. If I think of anyone I’ll phone you back.” Then, temporarily distracted from the notice in the paper, Beth sang down the phone, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Gillian, happy birthday to you. I know I’m a day early, but we are out all day tomorrow, so have a good birthday.” Fortunately, Beth then went on to talk about the fantastic holiday she had enjoyed in the States.

Once the call ended, I was relieved she hadn’t mentioned the notice again. Hopefully, she will not be able to work out who the initials belong to and I certainly don’t want her knowing I have replied. I was still in a sombre mood, wondering why Rob had not responded to the email, but before I had the opportunity to replace the phone in its holder, it rang again. Oh no, has Beth worked it out already, or has someone else seen the notice? Jasmine came to my rescue. I bent down and stroked her soft fur and her purrs grew louder. My nerves were in tatters. I wondered how much more I could take. Thankfully, it was Sarah, phoning for an update.

“Oh, hello Sarah. No more lectures please, I’m not in the mood and before you ask, no, I haven’t had any further communication from Rob.” She knows me too well and recognised I didn’t sound my usual cheerful self.

“I’ll come over tomorrow morning with your card and pressie. It sounds like you need cheering up. I don’t want to say, I told you so, but I knew Robert Fishburn would let you down again.”

“I can’t imagine why he hasn’t replied,” I answered. “There must be a good reason, otherwise why would he go to all the trouble of putting an ad in the paper? I can’t imagine why anyone would do that.” We talked for a bit longer, then Sarah rang off. Although my heart wasn’t really in it, I sat at the computer typing my book, somehow managing to let my imagination flow. I checked the emails, every hour, hoping to find something from Rob, but, no, nothing.

Sunday 11th August:

Yet another disturbed night’s sleep. Although I was looking forward to seeing Sarah, with her promise of a card and present, my mind was mainly occupied with Rob’s unexpected notice, and how unsettling it had made me feel. I still couldn’t understand why Rob had wished me a very public happy birthday, and then ignored my reply. My thoughts were interrupted, hearing the doorbell. I was thrilled to see my daughter, Claire, and Son-in-Law standing on the doorstep. My youngest grandson manoeuvred his way to the front and presented me with an enormous bouquet of flowers. His older brother followed, carrying beautifully wrapped gifts, everyone wishing me a happy birthday. After opening my cards and presents the family left and I arranged the cards on the mantelpiece. A few minutes later Sarah arrived, as promised, arms laden. Helping her, as she struggled through the door, I anticipated her first question;

“Have you heard from… HIM?”

“No.” I quickly changed the subject. “What have you been up to Sarah?”

“Oh, just your card, a little pressie, a bottle of your favourite wine, and a chocolate cake. I made it especially for you yesterday, so it should be lovely and fresh. I resisted scraping out the bowl to sample it before it went into the oven, but it’s my usual recipe, so I’m sure it will be scrumptious, even if I say so myself. I thought we could enjoy a piece of cake together with a cuppa. Happy birthday and hopefully many more to come. Ken wanted me to send his love and birthday wishes to you, as well.”

“You are the kindest person Sarah. I really value our friendship.” We exchanged kisses on both cheeks, along with a hug. Struggling to keep the tears back, I said, “I’ll put the kettle on. That cake looks simply delicious. I do believe I could manage a large slice, how about you?”

“Why not? I can always start my diet tomorrow. Third time I’ve attempted to lose weight already this year. Ken says I have no willpower. He’s right of course. I was hoping to look good in a bathing costume when we go on holiday in November, but I’ll just have to cover up like most of the other women around the pool, who have good intentions but don’t quite make it. What has Peter bought you for your birthday?” It was difficult to hide my disappointment as I replied.

“Not sure. I can’t see any large boxes around the house though, can you? Mind you, we don’t normally bother giving each other expensive presents. Peter is still in bed. He was out with Ken at the Butcher’s Arms last night. It was very late when he returned.” Sarah left, leaving me with mixed emotions. The cards on the mantelpiece showed I was, at least, loved by the rest of my family, even if Peter hadn’t remembered the significance of today. I rearranged the cards and smiled, reading the humorous card sent from Nicholas, our son. In the centre place stood a flowery card from Aunty Eileen, perfumed as always. I knew, before opening the envelope, it was from her, always with the same lavender aroma. I should be feeling happy. After all, it’s my day. Yet I had the feeling something was missing – missing from my life.

Peter eventually emerged, looking the worse for wear. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him. He was looking around the room and must have noticed the flowers. Then he seemed focused on the mantelpiece. He turned towards me.

“What are all those cards? Oh no, have I forgotten your birthday? I’m sorry Gillian. I will go out later and get you some chocolates.” I was tempted to tell him not to bother but I didn’t want to start an argument, not today. How could he possibly have overlooked my birthday? Has he already forgotten the message in the paper, sent from Rob? As soon as Peter left the house, unable to console myself, I phoned Sarah.

“Thank you for sharing today with me. Peter had forgotten and can you believe it, he had the nerve to offer to go out and get me some chocolates, probably from the petrol station down the road?”

“I never realised he was so thoughtless. You must have felt dreadful?”

“I suppose I’ve become used to it over the years. It’s not entirely Peter’s fault. When Claire and Nicholas came along, we struggled financially and they took priority. We decided it was more important to buy Birthday and Christmas presents for them. We’ve never really bothered to buy each other expensive gifts. I’ll tell you more about it sometime. I haven’t had a reply from Rob.”

“Now, before you object, I’ll come around tomorrow with my scissors and give you a new hairstyle. Do you want to stay blonde or try a new colour?”

“Thank you, Sarah. A change of hairstyle might cheer me up but I’m reluctant to change the colour. I’ve been blonde all my life, even though it comes out of a bottle these days. I’m not ready to go ‘au natural’ just yet. See you tomorrow.”

After our call ended, I reflected. Is this all there is to my life? Each year, getting older and older and feeling less and less loved by Peter as if that were possible. Cheer up, I told myself. Once more, Jasmine’s presence comforted me. Peter returned with a large box of chocolates, from the petrol station, as predicted. He plonked a kiss on my cheek and wished me a happy birthday. The remainder of the day was uneventful and I continued typing my book, trying hard to act normal around the house. I kept out of Peter’s way, as much as possible, but it was proving difficult to get on with everyday chores when the computer needed to be checked every hour. Not strictly true, twenty times an hour would be more exact, just in case! Why hadn’t Rob replied to my email? Maybe tomorrow.

Monday 12th August:

Sarah arrived, as arranged, colour in one hand, scissors in the other, announcing she was going to give me a bob. In the sixties, we both started our apprenticeships at the hairdressers at the same time. Beth had already completed her first year. We all became good friends and have remained so all these years. Now in retirement, Sarah and I cut each other’s hair at our leisure. Without exception, Sarah routinely remarks, “It’s cheaper than going to the hairdresser.” That is something I couldn’t disagree with. Neither of us had much spare money these days but we would always find enough for our monthly ‘girly’ days out. The morning whizzed by. Hair coloured, new style produced, Sarah commented how pretty my hair looked and that the new ‘bob’ really suited me. I really wasn’t in the mood for compliments. Even if she had shaved all my hair off, I don’t think I would have been too concerned. I don’t ever remember feeling this miserable and confused. As soon as Sarah left, I couldn’t wait to check the computer for emails. Still nothing! My emotions were in tatters; one minute excited, knowing that for some reason Rob had tried to make contact with me and then saddened he hadn’t responded to my email. Five days had passed since Sarah spotted the notice in the paper. I’m impatient and had expected an immediate response, but when none came, I began to wonder if it had in fact been some kind of sick joke. Perhaps it was a scam and someone wanted my bank details. Then they go and raid my bank account!

Tuesday 13th August:

I awoke early and switched the computer on, looking first at the emails, just in case! Still nothing. As I started to type a few words in my novel, the computer beeped, email coming through. I switched to emails and there it was; the email I had been waiting and hoping for. My heart skipped a beat or several if that’s possible. At one point, I thought it had actually stopped working altogether. Putting my hand to my chest and checking I still had a heartbeat, I was relieved to find my chest was still moving in and out. I found myself speaking aloud. “Yes, I’m still alive. That’s a relief.” Rob had, at last, replied to my email, but I wondered why he had put a different email address than the one in the newspaper? He had also put his name this time.

From: Robert Fishburn@xxxxx.com

Sent: Tuesday 13th August 2013 06.30

Subject: Intrigued?

Email read;

Do you know who put the notice in the paper?

Speaking aloud once more, I pondered. “Yes, you wally! A bit obvious, wouldn’t you think? Even if I hadn’t worked it out last week, Robert Fishburn, printed at the top of this email just might have given me a clue.”

Oh, whatever’s wrong with me? Why do I feel so cynical? Who am I trying to fool? I couldn’t be happier if I had just won a million pounds on the lottery. I’m surprised, even shocked that he should contact me after all these years, but thrilled by this confirmation that it really is Rob. The strange, unsettling feelings wouldn’t disappear. They engulfed my entire body. After a deep intake of breath, held for what seemed an age, I was eventually forced to breathe out again in order not to faint and fall off the chair. My chest felt as though there was a heavy weight placed on it. My breathing was loud but eventually started to return to a quieter, steadier pace. Am I dreaming? Is the email really from Rob? Excitement rippled through my body. How could an email cause such disruption? My eyes felt as though they had doubled in size, almost to the point of popping out of my head. They were glued to the words on the screen. Not daring to look away, not even daring to blink, terrified in case the message disappeared from the screen and I would discover it had just been a dream. The reality hit me. Yes, it really was from Rob. Ears popping, my heart pounding, I wondered, should I tell Sarah that Rob had responded to my email, or should I keep it as my little secret for now? Bewildered, yet excited, I was so mixed up. Should I just forget him? After all, he hurt me once before? The voice in my head was telling me. Do not reply! But the fluttering feelings in my heart were sending out a completely different message. Reply, reply, REPLY!!!

After almost fifty years, Rob had decided to reappear in my life. Why? I needed to know. Although the thoughts that emerged in my head were tinged with sarcasm, I knew I had to find out the reason behind all this. I can’t stop now. My email must be composed carefully. Praying that Peter hadn’t heard my outburst earlier, I kept my thoughts to myself. It dawned on me that twelve months previously when I started writing my book, it was about Rob. Why had I started to think about him after all these years? When I saw those initials in the paper last week, why hadn’t they connected with me? Maybe it was because the fictional names I’d used in the book were foremost in my head and his real name had been put to the back of my mind. What an incredible coincidence; the notice appeared in the paper at exactly the same time as I resumed typing the book. Yes, the very same week. Perhaps it’s fate and both Rob and I received a message at the exact same time.

“Oh, don’t think such rubbish, Gillian Herring,” I said out loud, scolding myself for having such ridiculous thoughts. Why have I suddenly thought of myself as Gillian Herring? I’ve been trying to forget my maiden name for most of my life. When I met Peter, I was relieved to discover his surname was Davies. At school, I had been teased mercilessly about being a HERRING with loads of fishy jokes to contend with. Yes, Davies was a much easier name for my children to cope with. My mind was exploding with thoughts of Rob. Did he ever get married? Is he still married? Does he have a family? With so many questions running through my mind, it was difficult to concentrate on anything. I decided not to hurry my reply. I will send it tomorrow. It’s my turn to keep him waiting now.