Aftermath

new world, apart from Claire Toth, her neighbor’s schoolgirl daughter, who seemed to have adopted her. Lucy Payne, she soon found out, was a kindred spirit.

Perhaps because they were both out of their natural habitat, like compatriots meeting in a foreign land, they stopped and spoke to each other. Lucy said it was her day off work and she was doing a bit of shopping. Maggie suggested a cup of tea or coffee at the Harvey Nichols outdoor cafe, and Lucy said she’d love to. So they sat and rested their feet, their parcels on the ground. Lucy noticed the names on the bags Maggie was carrying – including Harvey Nichols – and said something about not having the nerve to go inside such a posh place. Her own packages, it soon became clear, were from British Home Stores and C amp; A. Maggie had come across this reluctance in northern people before, had heard all the stories about how you’d never get the typical Leeds anorak-and-flat-cap crowd into an upmarket store like Harvey Nichols, but it still surprised her to hear Lucy admit to this.

This was because Maggie thought Lucy was such a strikingly attractive and elegant woman, with her glossy black raven’s-wing hair tumbling down to the small of her back, and the kind of figure men buy magazines to look at pictures of. Lucy was tall and full-breasted, with a waist that curved in and hips that curved out in the right proportion, and the simple yellow dress she was wearing under a light jacket that day emphasized her figure without broadcasting it out loud, and it also drew attention to her shapely legs. She didn’t wear much makeup; she didn’t need to. Her pale complexion was smooth as a reflection in a mirror, her black eyebrows arched, cheekbones high in her oval face. Her eyes were black, with flint-like chips scattered around inside them that caught the light like quartz crystals as she looked around.

The waiter came over and Maggie asked Lucy if she would like a cappuccino. Lucy said she’d never had one before and wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she would give it a try. Maggie asked for two cappuccinos. When Lucy took her first sip, she got froth on her lips, which she dabbed at with a serviette.

“You can’t take me anywhere,” she laughed.

“Don’t be silly,” said Maggie.

“No, I mean it. That’s what Terry always says.” She was very soft-spoken, the way Maggie had been for a while after she left Bill.

Maggie was just about to say that Terry was a fool, but she held her tongue. Insulting Lucy’s husband on their first meeting wouldn’t be very polite at all. “What do you think of the cappuccino?” she asked.

“It’s very nice.” Lucy took another sip. “Where are you from?” she asked. “I’m not being too nosy, am I? It’s just that your accent…”

“Not at all, no. I’m from Toronto. Canada.”

“No wonder you’re so sophisticated. I’ve never been any further than the Lake District.”

Maggie laughed. Toronto, sophisticated?

“See,” said Lucy, pouting a little. “You’re laughing at me already.”

“No, no, I’m not,” Maggie said. “Honestly, I’m not. It’s just that… well, I suppose it’s all a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I were to tell a New Yorker that Toronto is sophisticated, she’d laugh in my face. The best thing they can say about the place is that it’s clean and safe.”

“Well, that’s something to be proud of, isn’t it? Leeds is neither.”

“It doesn’t seem so bad to me.”

“Why did you leave? I mean, why did you come here?”

Maggie frowned and fumbled for a cigarette. She still cursed herself for a fool for starting to smoke at thirty when she had managed to avoid the evil weed her whole life. Of course, she could blame it on the stress, though in the end it had only contributed more to that stress. She remembered the first time Bill had smelled smoke on her breath, that quick-as-a-flash change from concerned husband to Monster Face, as she had called it. But smoking wasn’t that bad. Even her shrink said it wasn’t such a terrible idea to have the occasional cigarette as a crutch for the time being. She could always stop later, when she felt better able to cope again.

“So why did you come here?” Lucy persisted. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but I’m interested. Was it a new job?”

“Not exactly. What I do I can do anywhere.”

“What is it?”

“I’m a graphic artist. I illustrate books. Mostly children’s books. At the moment I’m working on a new edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales.”

“Oh, that sounds fascinating,” said Lucy. “I was terrible at art in school. I can’t even draw a matchstick figure.” She laughed and put her hand over her mouth. “So why are you here?”

Maggie struggled with herself for a moment, stalling. Then a strange thing happened to her, a sense of inner chains and straps loosening, giving her space and a feeling of floating. Sitting there in the Victoria Quarter smoking and drinking cappuccino with Lucy, she felt an immediate and unheralded surge of affection for this young woman she hardly knew. She wanted the two of them to be friends, could see them talking about their problems just like this, giving each other sympathy and advice, just as she had with Alicia back in Toronto. Lucy, with her gaucheness, her naive charm inspired a sort of emotional confidence in Maggie: this was someone, she felt, with whom she would be safe. More than that; though Maggie may have been the more “sophisticated” of the two, she sensed that they shared more than it appeared. The truth was difficult for her to admit to, but she felt the overwhelming need to tell someone other than her psychologist. And why not Lucy?

“What is it?” Lucy said. “You look so sad.”

“Do I? Oh… Nothing. Look, my husband and I,” Maggie said, stumbling over the words as if her tongue were the size of a steak, “I… er… we split up.” She felt her mouth drying up. Despite the loosened bonds, this was still far more difficult than she had thought it would be. She sipped some more coffee.

Lucy frowned. “I’m sorry. But why move so far away? Lots of people split up and they don’t move countries. Unless he’s… oh, my God.” She gave her cheek a little slap. “Lucy, I think you’ve just put your foot in it again.”

Maggie couldn’t help allowing herself a thin smile, even though Lucy had touched upon the painful truth. “It’s all right,” she said. “Yes, he was abusive. Yes, he hit me. You can say I’m running away. It’s true. Certainly for a while I don’t even want to be in the same country as him.” The vehemence of her words when they came out surprised even Maggie herself.

A strange look came into Lucy’s eyes, then she glanced around again, as if looking for someone. Only anonymous shoppers drifted up and down the arcade under the stained-glass roof, packages in hands. Lucy touched Maggie’s arm with her fingertips and Maggie felt a little shiver run through her, almost like a reflex action to pull away. A moment ago, she had thought it would do her good to admit to someone, to share what happened with another woman, but now she wasn’t so sure. She felt too naked, too raw.

“I’m sorry if it embarrasses you,” Maggie said, with a hard edge to her voice. “But you did ask.”

“Oh, no,” said Lucy, grasping Maggie’s wrist. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her hands cool. “Please don’t think that. I asked for it. I always do. It’s my fault. But it doesn’t embarrass me. It’s just… I don’t know what to say. I mean… you? You seem so bright, so in control.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I thought: How could something like that happen to someone like me? Doesn’t it only happen to other women, poor, less fortunate, uneducated, stupid women?”

“How long?” Lucy asked. “I mean…?”

“How long did I let it go on before I left?”

“Yes.”

“Two years. And don’t ask me how I could let it go on for so long, either. I don’t know. I’m still working on that one with the shrink.”

“I see.” Lucy paused, taking it all in. “What made you leave him in the end?”

Maggie paused a moment, then went on. “One day he just went too far,” she said. “He broke my jaw and two ribs, did some damage to my insides. It put me in hospital. While I was there I filed assault charges. And do you know what? As soon as I’d done it I wanted to drop them, but the police wouldn’t let me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what it’s like over here, but in Canada it’s out of your hands if you bring assault charges. You can’t just change your mind and drop them. Anyway, there was a restraining order against him. Nothing happened