Caryl Phillips - The Lost Child

“Victor. Derek.” Pamela threw her friend a quick glance as though checking if it was alright for these two to join them at their table.

“Can we sit down? You know we’re not going to bite.”

“Alright, go on then.”

Monica moved her chair closer to Pamela’s, and while Victor sat on Pamela’s right, Derek pulled up a chair opposite her so the two women wouldn’t be hemmed in on both sides.

It was only after the men had settled into their seats that Derek held out his hand for Monica to shake.

“Derek Evans. I’m sorry if we’ve interrupted your evening.”

He was a reasonably handsome, clean-shaven man, and his collar and tie were still firmly fastened, unlike his friend, whose dangling tie was complemented by the evidence of stubble. Derek Evans offered her a cigarette, and when she declined, he put the pack back into his jacket pocket rather than smoke alone.

“I don’t mind if you smoke.”

Derek smiled gently and shook his head. She guessed that he was probably about thirty and maybe a civil servant of some kind. He really didn’t seem the type to be out trying to pull birds on a Saturday night.

“It’s alright, I don’t have to smoke. But I was thinking, if you’re from around here, then I’m surprised I’ve not seen you before.”

She explained to him that she was really from Wakefield, but she lived here and worked at a local branch library. She paused and then added the missing information:

“I live with my children. I’ve got two boys, Ben and Tommy.”

When he asked if she had any snaps of them, she immediately felt bad, and worried that he’d think she was a failure of a mother. In the absence of any photographs she decided to describe the boys to him, and she said a bit about what they liked to do, how they both liked football and how Ben seemed to be taken with pop music. Derek Evans listened to her without once taking his eyes from her face. When she finished, Monica reached for her drink, and then from his wallet Derek Evans produced a glossy snapshot of his nephew and niece, regretting the fact that their mother, his sister, was emigrating to Canada next week because his brother-in-law wanted to make a fresh start out there in the building trade. He wasn’t sure when he’d see them again, but he had a feeling that the kids would be all grown up by then, and he’d particularly miss the lad, whom he’d introduced to the junior football team that he helped out with on weekends.

“You can always make pen pals of the children and keep in touch that way.”

“I suppose I can.” He was quiet for a minute, then tucked the picture back into his wallet. “I hadn’t thought of that. I like to do a bit of writing, and I’m always reading, but I typically use the main library in town, which is probably why I’ve not seen you. I’m partial to taking out books on rambling and bird-watching, as I’m a bit of a nature buff.”

She watched as he took a quick sip of beer, as though eager not to lose the momentum.

“So do you like it then, at the library?”

For all his kindness and good manners, she knew that this was not the time to be sharing her ambitions of going back to university. After all, she hadn’t told anybody, including Pamela.

“I suppose it’s like any job. It can have its frustrations, but it’s a job, isn’t it?”

“I see. Maybe I’ll drop by and visit one day, if that’s alright with you?”

“Well”—she smiled—“it’s a public library, so I can’t rightly stop you.”

Victor tapped the table with the bottom of his beer glass.

“Right then, Derek, it’s about time you offered these ladies another drink, don’t you think? Your round, lad, and look lively.”

By the time Derek returned to the table with the pints of beer and two rum and Cokes balanced precariously in his hands, Pamela and Victor had decided to go downstairs to the dance floor. Monica craned her neck over the edge, but she couldn’t make them out in the swell of heaving bodies, and for a moment she wondered if Pamela had deliberately abandoned her with this Derek. But at least he was a gentleman, so she didn’t feel too worried.

He explained that he and Victor worked on the Post , and while nowadays he’d moved on to the management side, Victor was still a reporter. As she listened to him patiently explaining both his job and his prospects, she speculated as to what would become of her two boys when it was time for them to enter the world of the opposite sex. Would they frequent places such as this and try and pick up lasses? Would they be brash and know-it-all like Victor, or more gentle, caring souls like this Derek?

“Would you like to dance?” When she heard his voice, she snapped back to attention and realized that the music had changed. The dance floor was now speckled in shards of turning light as couples held on to each other.

“I hate to admit it, Monica, but I’m not a very good dancer. That said, it seems a shame to come here and not give it a go, don’t you think?”

She was too nervous to answer him directly, but she knew that it would be rude to ignore his question, especially as she could feel his eyes upon her.

“Will it be alright to leave these drinks on the table?” She coughed nervously. “I mean, nobody will take them, will they?”

The first touch was difficult, as it had been so long, but once she got used to his hand on her waist she started to breathe again as they both attempted to shuffle purposefully in the cloying mist of cheap eau de cologne. She looked over his shoulder for Pamela, but she still couldn’t see either her friend or Victor, so she closed her eyes and didn’t resist when he made a move to pull her closer to him. The music was a mystery to her as one slow song blended with the next, and she assumed that he might expect her to know the names of the groups that were singing, though quite honestly she hadn’t a clue. Sometimes she’d put on a pop music station to liven things up as she made tea for the kids, but while Ben seemed to like the music, she soon grew bored with the noise, and much to her son’s disappointment, she would turn off the wireless and encourage him to go and watch the television instead.

As Derek escorted her to the top of the stairs and began to usher her back in the direction of their table, she noticed that Victor’s hand was resting on Pamela’s leg in the space between the hem of her skirt and her knee. Her friend appeared to be either unaware of this act of trespass or comfortable with his hand, but either way Monica found it unnerving. There was also a second drink standing beside the still-untouched round that Derek had brought from the bar. She took up her seat and spoke to nobody in particular.

“You’ll have to excuse me, but I don’t know if I can drink that much.”

Victor immediately made a grab for one of his pints and raised it in a toast.

“Of course you can. Drink up, Monica. To us.”

She lifted up her glass, but as she did, she noticed how Victor was looking at her, and she now had a good idea of what he thought of the two women that he and his pal were drinking with, but it was too late to say anything to Pamela.

Monica couldn’t really remember what happened next, for everything began to go fuzzy and she felt a headache setting in. Victor insisted that Derek go to the bar for yet more drinks, although she remembered Derek’s suggesting that they finish what they had in front of them first, but Victor teased him and called him tight, and so Derek reluctantly stood up from the table. Once he’d gone she had nobody to talk with, for Pamela had scrunched herself into Victor so completely that her skirt was riding up near the top of her nylons and Monica wanted to throw a blanket or something over her. When Derek came back, he pretended not to notice her friend’s performance, but the awkwardness didn’t last, for Pamela soon came up for air and started talking thirteen to the dozen. Then Victor sent Derek back to the bar for another round, and then another. At some point all four of them were on the dance floor, that much she was sure of, and they were dancing as individuals, not as couples, but Derek never took his eyes off her, which made her feel anchored and grateful. At some point, Monica remembered, the room started to spin, and Derek offered his arm, which she took, but the stairs back to the balcony were definitely steeper than earlier in the evening, and it seemed like there were more of them. Derek sat her down at the table while he went to the bar for a glass of water, and it was only now that she picked up on the fact that the place was starting to empty out, and for the first time all evening she felt truly unsure of what she was doing.