Read Online Afterwards by Rachel Seiffert - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rachel Seiffert
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sorry. Just after she’d picked up the phone:
– It’s me. It’s Joseph. I’m sorry.
No lead up, and then quiet afterwards. Alice couldn’t even hear his breath. Thrown, she said nothing, and then he asked if he could see her, and Alice said yes. Much too quickly she thought, and cursed him for it when he came round. Standing in the kitchen, relieved to see him, despite herself. Pouring him tea and calling him an arsehole at the same time, which made them both smile.
They spent the afternoon in bed, and then when it got dark, they wandered out together for a late drink. Stan was at the pub, with Clare and a few others, so theypushed the tables together and played cards. Stan persuaded the publican into a lock-in, but Alice and Joseph didn’t stay long. Just until Alice won, then Joseph took her home, and made her laugh again by waiting to be invited upstairs. He stayed over and it was lovely, but Alice kept expecting him to say something about what had happened the week before. She was very glad to have him back, but angry too, because he never explained. Wasn’t sure she wanted just to start up again like that, without reasons given or any discussion. Clare smiled when Alice talked to her about it.
– Looks to me like it has anyway, whether you like it or not. Or it did last night. I’d never have guessed you’d fallen out.
– We haven’t. Not really.
Late Sunday morning and Alice had taken a detour on her way to her grandad’s. Stan had taken the boys swimming, so she and Clare were alone, and they sat in the kitchen, talking.
– He’s apologised, Alice. Be happy.
– I am. Except I don’t know what he’s sorry for, do I? He might have been sleeping with someone else for all I know.
– Have you made any promises to each other?
– No.
– Do you want to stop seeing him?
– No, I don’t.
Alice had been through her options already. Either she talked to him about it or she left it. The former was too possessive, and the latter wouldn’t work for long: she was bound to start thinking about it again. But Alice didn’twant it to be over. She liked being with Joseph too much. He’d said sorry. Last week had thrown her: she hadn’t seen that coming. But then there was yesterday, last night, this morning. Clare walked her down as far as the corner, and smiled when Alice said she wanted to give him the benefit.
– Good. I don’t think a relationship’s got going till you’ve had a bit of bother. Not properly. Don’t make too much of it, will you?
Five
Another Sunday at her grandfather’s, another month or so later, and the first rainy day in weeks. Alice arrived soaking and her grandad hung her jacket over the boiler, fetched a towel from the airing cupboard for her hair. She had a dry T-shirt with her, changed in the downstairs toilet, and her grandad pointed at her rucksack when she came out.
– Are you going away?
– I’ve just been. Camping with Joseph.
– I thought you’d caught the sun.
– Freckles, like Gran.
Alice held out her forearms and her grandfather smiled, said they suited her well. Joseph had been talking about going for ages, ever since that weekend he was down in Brighton. He’d picked Alice up from work on Friday to surprise her: she saw him when she came down the steps, standing by the railings where she locked her bike. He called to her across the car park, said he’d read the weather forecast and it was too good to stay in London, so he was driving her home to pack. Two nights on the South Downs, and a hot day between, spent following the course of a river. It was Joseph’s idea, and a good one, a tributary of the Arun. He’d shown her on the map after they’d pitched the tent: tracing the path he’d planned for them, his fingers excited, touching the blue curve of the water as it wrapped around the foot of a slope, marking out the highest point for miles around.Joseph said he’d driven past the hill before but never climbed it, had kept it in
– It’s me. It’s Joseph. I’m sorry.
No lead up, and then quiet afterwards. Alice couldn’t even hear his breath. Thrown, she said nothing, and then he asked if he could see her, and Alice said yes. Much too quickly she thought, and cursed him for it when he came round. Standing in the kitchen, relieved to see him, despite herself. Pouring him tea and calling him an arsehole at the same time, which made them both smile.
They spent the afternoon in bed, and then when it got dark, they wandered out together for a late drink. Stan was at the pub, with Clare and a few others, so theypushed the tables together and played cards. Stan persuaded the publican into a lock-in, but Alice and Joseph didn’t stay long. Just until Alice won, then Joseph took her home, and made her laugh again by waiting to be invited upstairs. He stayed over and it was lovely, but Alice kept expecting him to say something about what had happened the week before. She was very glad to have him back, but angry too, because he never explained. Wasn’t sure she wanted just to start up again like that, without reasons given or any discussion. Clare smiled when Alice talked to her about it.
– Looks to me like it has anyway, whether you like it or not. Or it did last night. I’d never have guessed you’d fallen out.
– We haven’t. Not really.
Late Sunday morning and Alice had taken a detour on her way to her grandad’s. Stan had taken the boys swimming, so she and Clare were alone, and they sat in the kitchen, talking.
– He’s apologised, Alice. Be happy.
– I am. Except I don’t know what he’s sorry for, do I? He might have been sleeping with someone else for all I know.
– Have you made any promises to each other?
– No.
– Do you want to stop seeing him?
– No, I don’t.
Alice had been through her options already. Either she talked to him about it or she left it. The former was too possessive, and the latter wouldn’t work for long: she was bound to start thinking about it again. But Alice didn’twant it to be over. She liked being with Joseph too much. He’d said sorry. Last week had thrown her: she hadn’t seen that coming. But then there was yesterday, last night, this morning. Clare walked her down as far as the corner, and smiled when Alice said she wanted to give him the benefit.
– Good. I don’t think a relationship’s got going till you’ve had a bit of bother. Not properly. Don’t make too much of it, will you?
Five
Another Sunday at her grandfather’s, another month or so later, and the first rainy day in weeks. Alice arrived soaking and her grandad hung her jacket over the boiler, fetched a towel from the airing cupboard for her hair. She had a dry T-shirt with her, changed in the downstairs toilet, and her grandad pointed at her rucksack when she came out.
– Are you going away?
– I’ve just been. Camping with Joseph.
– I thought you’d caught the sun.
– Freckles, like Gran.
Alice held out her forearms and her grandfather smiled, said they suited her well. Joseph had been talking about going for ages, ever since that weekend he was down in Brighton. He’d picked Alice up from work on Friday to surprise her: she saw him when she came down the steps, standing by the railings where she locked her bike. He called to her across the car park, said he’d read the weather forecast and it was too good to stay in London, so he was driving her home to pack. Two nights on the South Downs, and a hot day between, spent following the course of a river. It was Joseph’s idea, and a good one, a tributary of the Arun. He’d shown her on the map after they’d pitched the tent: tracing the path he’d planned for them, his fingers excited, touching the blue curve of the water as it wrapped around the foot of a slope, marking out the highest point for miles around.Joseph said he’d driven past the hill before but never climbed it, had kept it in
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