Little One
He called me Little One right from the moment we met, when he dropped himself into the seat next to mine just as red, just as velvet, just as worn down by countless elbows as the one I was perched on.
He spent a minute taking in the concert hall, then glanced over at me.
Bored, Little One? he sighed, trying to swing his leg over, but the narrow aisle didnt allow for it. His polished shoe pressed into the seat in front, twisting his ankle. Matt grimaced.
I pretended not to notice him, keeping my eyes on the stage, though nothing much was happening. A row of tables pushed into one long strip, a lectern, people bustling around with equipment as at every conference. And the stuffy heat.
I never felt comfortable in places crowded with people, forced to sit shoulder to shoulder with no escape.
Hmmm, Matt drew out, scratching at his chin. Hopeless, isn’t it? And you know what, Little One, there’s nothing for us to learn here today. Truly! Ive read all the papers already, part of the job, you understand. Not a single worthwhile idea among them.
I turned to him and peered at the man sitting beside me, not hiding my disapproval.
He looked tidy enough in a suit and tie, shoes spick and span. But still, he seemed out of place, as if hed been cut out and plonked into the wrong outfit. A cheeky chancer, a wind-up merchant, a talker and a clown thats who he was. And his hair stuck up, wild, with two swirling crowns where his locks curled like soft brioches.
Matthew, he said, not giving me a chance to reply, holding out his hefty hand. Come on, lets go for lunch. Youre such a tiny thing, too slender. Let me feed you. Yes, thats what well do. Out we go!
Just as the lights were dimming and the dignitaries strode on stage to applause, Matt was already dragging his Little One through the aisle, stepping on toes, apologising, stuffing his tie back into his jacket, which simply refused to stay tucked. It was as if that rogue tie itself was pulling faces at all those staid gentlemen and ladies.
Honestly! What are you doing? Let me go, do you hear? I tried to twist out of his grip but ended up tottering along behind Matt towards the exit.
We slipped out into the foyer as the speeches reached their peak, someone banging the microphone for silence.
Let me go! Ive got to go back, take notes, I have a job to do! I protested, holding my notepad to my chest. I dropped my pen and bent to fetch it, but Matt beat me to it.
Oh, toss that scribbling for now, Little One! Ill send you all the papers later; you can read them in your own time. First, you need something to eat. But water, first. You look pale. And your pulse, let me see. Ha! Just as I thought! He pressed my wrist, tutting. Fresh air, food, and no conferences prescription from Dr Matt!
Truth be told, I really wasnt feeling well. My heart hammered and thudded in my temples.
No one ever cared for me like this before. Usually, it was me after Mum, my husband, my daughter. That was just normal. Of course, it was hard; sometimes I yearned to be silly, to act like a girl in a romantic comedy, sipping wine and laughing, but life never seemed to offer me that.
But Matt? He offered me just that.
I didnt even notice how I ended up at a cosy little restaurant across the street, a waiter bringing us glasses of juice freshly squeezed, golden-orange, so dazzling it seemed like theyd pressed Africas sun itself into the glass, all bursting with orange and lemon, searingly bright.
Here. Drink this. And have some water. So, what shall we eat? Matt smiled.
Perhaps he did find me attractive. I was not bad looking in my way, slim, slight, nothing excessive. I could have been more popular with men if it werent for well, for that permanent air of tiredness and futility on my face. Pushing forty, a family, no real love, worn out whats there to make you bloom like a May rose?
Yet Matt liked me just as I was tired Little One.
I dont need anything. Ill just catch my breath then go back! Im really feeling better now, I muttered feebly.
Too bad! Matt grinned. Seabass with veg, a salad, and and what would you like to drink, Little One?
He looked up from the menu, all rugged, fresh, a bit rumpled, reeking of cigarettes and cologne, strong and lively, and set his eyes on me.
I blushed, frowning at myself.
I must be mad! A complete stranger had dragged me off to a restaurant, feeding me, calling me Little One, already brushing back the lock of hair on my forehead. And I Id gone soft, all of me, utterly.
Where he touched me, my skin turned hot, and goosebumps ran down my spine.
We drank white wine and Matt regaled me with his story how hed worked on building sites in his youth, then headed up north for a couple of years, bouncing between one bleak project and another, until
And then, Little One, my mate George and I set up our own firm. Nothing grand just building sheds, summer houses, assembling work crews and things started moving. Everyone wants to live well, snug and warm, plumbing indoors and all that. And we knew how to make that happen. Eat up! Come on! Heres to you, Little One! Honestly, when I saw you, I thought: This girl needs a good meal! Want to order more?
I shook my head. I felt adrift, from the wine, the delicious meal, and from the fact that, for the first time well, ever someone wanted to feed me because I was a tired, hungry girl.
At home, it was never like that. Mum worked all the time. Id breakfast alone; she wasnt home in the mornings. Evening, shed come late, Id wait up, heat her dinner, then wash up, while she had her bath, and finally wed sleep never before midnight.
At New Year, Mum would get home near eleven. She worked in a shop; the last few hours before midnight meant a good take.
Mary, my mother, would walk in pale, shattered. Id get her dress ready, help her tidy her hair, and wed step out together to greet guests.
There were always guests neighbours, Mums friends, random relatives whod appear, cheerful and tipsy. All crammed round a table laden with food, talking and laughing, while I watched to make sure Mum didnt nod off after her first shot.
Mum only drank vodka; said champagne was for lightweights, but vodka was the proper thing!
The only trouble was, her worn-out body would simply switch off, sending her snoring at the dinner table. Id nudge her, and shed startle awake, blink around, remember where she was, ask for another shot, raise a toast, laugh, but with a kind of bitterness. How on earth was I supposed to be a weak little girl in all that?!
I married young. Andrew was nearly ten years my senior sensible, educated, but not affectionate, not chatty. It was like hed slotted me into his life as the perfect little cog suitable, nice, capable but nothing more.
Perhaps that was all I wanted. Romance, passion, excitement yes, there was plenty of that at first, what with being young, flesh is flesh, but it soon faded. What mattered was that I now had my own family, a home, no longer with my exhausted mother, her swollen legs and gloomy kitchen window. Instead, Andrews flat well, mine too a proper kitchen, roomy bathroom, a library, a husband. Everyone envied me. Not every girl landed a setup like this, especially without a mother-in-law underfoot!
And always, from the day I was born to the day I met Matt, I was just Izzie or else, formally, Isabel Victoria.
Andrew, Mum, our friends all called me Izzie.
But suddenly, with Matt Little One. Wine, nibbles And for once, someone wanted to know what Little One was thinking, what I wanted.
Andrew never cared for that. Sure, the big things, the house, holidays, were discussed but mostly hed announce his decision, my objections drowned by the traffic outside our open window. Andrew loved the fresh air, never let me close the windows, no matter how cold it got.
Matt, though, as soon as we entered the restaurant, was keen we be seated in a cosy spot with no draught.
That sort of caring
He asked things, and I replied, embarrassed. Yes, Im married. Yes, we have a daughter Tamzin. Tammys at university studying foreign languages; I found her a brilliant tutor, and now shes about to go on an exchange abroad.
We didnt “long” for Tamzin, didnt “dream of her”, didn’t beg God. It was calculated. Andrews mum always said it was time he became a father, and I was young, so it should go smoothly. Only, it didnt. Pregnancy was slow coming, so it became a project.
At last, I was pregnant. Andrew, throughout, kept his distance none of that affectionate belly cradling you see in happy families, no chatting to the baby. To him, it was odd, even repulsive.
Shell be born, then Ill handle the father bit. Izzie, your next doctors appointment? I can run you there. Dismissive.
He did, ran me to check-ups, even picked us up from the hospital, guests and balloons and all. He kept track of Tammys weight, bought the best food, even got up with her at night, took her for vaccinations. When the community nurse visited, Andrew checked her hands had she washed eyed her coat, warmed the stethoscope with his breath for Tammy.
Tired? my friend Gail would ask, seeing me pale and hollow-eyed. A babys not a flower, its hard graft! Does Andrew help?
I shrugged. He helped, in a way. But somehow, it was never enough…
Ultra-capable, worn down, I found a sort of comfort in being the martyr, always worn out, knowing that others felt sorry for me, sometimes even scolding my husband for not looking after his Izzie.
Only now, Matt was the one fussing, feeding me delicacies. It made me blush and protest.
Oh, come on, Little One! Matt laughed, pushing the food toward me. Im not letting you go until youve eaten, alright?
I bit my lip, gazed at my rescuer with wounded eyes, and ate.
He walked me to the tube that day beyond that, I insisted on going alone.
That evening, I found all the conference papers in my inbox.
For Little One, from Matt! read the note.
I quickly closed the laptop but Im sure Tammy had glimpsed something. She snorted.
Ridiculous pet names! I snapped. These are official documents, not a joke!
But Tamzin had already popped her headphones on and tuned me out.
Izzie, Tam, Im home! Come on, lets have dinner! called Andrew from the hallway.
Tired from the tube, he stripped off his shirt as he walked, left on his trousers, then peeled those off too, swapping them for his gaudy palm-tree shorts, flung the balcony doors open, breathing in.
He smelt of yesterdays sweat, a bit sour.
Izzie, Im not showering every day! Stop badgering me. My skin gets itchy after your endless showers. Ill wash tomorrow! hed sigh at my gentle hints. Come on, Im starving.
We ate in silence, all thinking our own thoughts. I was thinking of Matt his freshness, his cleanliness, his chivalry
The next day, he rang me at work.
Hey, Little One! How are you? Did you eat? Matts voice on my phone flustered me. I checked that no one was listening; I was sure the speaker was turned up too loud.
No not yet, loads to do, I stammered. Little One. I was Little One, soft and delicate a shiver ran down my back.
Drop everything, come down. Im in your cafe not much of a place, but you have to eat. Chop-chop! Im waiting!
I muttered something silly, slipped away from my colleagues, stood in the lift for a moment, cheeks burning, not sure which button to press. It felt like everyone already knew Isabel Victoria was going to meet her lover.
Yes, I even coined the word myself lover. It was thrilling and daring.
Today, Matt was in a t-shirt and jeans, a little messy but fresh again.
We drank coffee, I told him childhood stories, Matt listened.
Little One, youre really beautiful, you know? he interrupted out of nowhere. Lets buy you something! A dress. I know people at those boutiques; they’ll pick something just right! I want to see you in a dress.
And he did. Not right then, but that evening, when he took me to The Arcade and waited on the dressing stool while the shop girls fussed over baffled Little One.
He looked at me in a way Id only seen in films raw, hungry. The way Andrew never had.
Ive never seen that look before! I later whispered to Gail, my closest and truest friend. Only in films! I never expected to be looked at like that. I felt like a real woman. Its awful, but I liked it.
And Andrew? Gail asked sensibly later, after the sighs and the details.
He doesnt know. And he mustnt. Truth be told, I dont know anything myself! Dont you dare breathe a word! And keep this dress at your place. Its just how would I explain it? It costs a fortune! God, whats going to happen now?!
Gail packed the dress away, shrugged. What will be, will be.
I dont know, Izzie. Youre being daft. Your Andrew may be a brute, but remember how he drove out to that farm in January so you could have real milk, and he works hard. Another man would just vegetate in front of the telly with a beer, but yours is sharp, respectable. You needed a car he got one. Needed the house done he did it. Takes you on holiday every year. Hes an open book, easy to know. But whos this Matt? Where does his money come from?
Ive no idea. Doesnt matter! Gail, you never lived with Andrew. Im nearly sick of him, you know? Youre just jealous of me!
Gail shrugged again. Maybe she was jealous not of shady Matt, but of Andrew…
I started coming home later, would cobble something together for dinner, poke at it without eating, stirring cold tea as if sugar would magically appear.
Mum, whats the matter? Ive asked five times for bread! Tammy would call and then get up herself, rummage in the bread bin. Were out of bread! shed note resignedly.
Id nod and retreat to my room. To dream.
Andrew and Tammy gave me puzzled looks, watching me retreat.
I could dream for ages, hands sweating with nerves.
Matt was tender, kissed masterfully, teased me gently, called me Little One, plied me with gifts I had to hide at Gails, sent me money, sometimes even late-night texts. Id sneak out, lock myself in the bathroom, read and reread them, delete them, read again. Then switch off my mobile, rinse my face in cold water, and crawl back into bed.
Andrew would turn over, sling his heavy arm across me, belch, mutter something. Id murmur and freeze. Yes It was such a waste, all these years not knowing what it meant to be Little One pretty, passionate, beautiful. So many years down the drain
But now there was Matt. And he was my secret happiness.
We met at Matts flat big, bright, windows to the floor, no curtains, the city, all lights, bright and bold, just outside. Champagne and his cologne making my head spin. Soft, clean silk sheets
The world erupted into tiny sparks, a firework display showered on those sheets like diamonds. Miraculous.
Back home felt stuffy and bleak. I felt as if everybody knew Tammy watched warily, Andrew was stern.
Id invent reasons to stay out, creep in when everyone was in bed, then sit alone for hours in the kitchen over bitter instant coffee, dreaming
Izzie! Where are you? I picked up a cabbage, ought to slice it now, like we agreed, Andrews voice called through the speaker, making me glance nervously at Matt, swimming along the edge of the pool. The outdoors pool, a marvel of engineering, was cold even though Matt had brought me here told me to grab my kit and just swim, watching steam curl into the chilly air. Hardly anyone else about. Bliss. If you climbed the diving board, you could see the fairy lights in Green Park. But I hardly noticed any of that. I, Little One, just gazed at my hero. Id finally found love. Oh, God
Cabbage? I echoed, wrapping myself in a towel. Leave it, Ill be late. We were at the pool, Gail and me. Physiotherapist said I need to work my back. We got a pass. Cabbage can wait till tomorrow. Sorry, Gails calling, bye!
I quickly ended the call, swallowing. I needed to warn Gail, just in case Andrew tried to ring!
I waited for Gail to answer, babbling about the pool, my nerves frantic, then fell silent.
Izzie, Ive just dropped off some caraway seeds for your cabbage. I was at the market, thought Id pop by. Andrews already put the kettle on, Gail answered, calm as you please. “Caraway. Just like you like.
I bit my lip, scanning for Matt. He was already on the diving board, showing off his muscles, ready to dive. Some girls young, slim, lively watched, squealing.
Well, girls? One, two, three! he called above the water, dove in, sliced through cleanly, then surfaced with a wave to me. Izzie! Come join us! The nights still young!
The girls looked at me, and suddenly I was awkward again, ordinary, with a soft tummy and wobbly thighs. My swimming was clumsy, like a frog, arms flapping. That old, woeful look crept over my face once more.
Matts Little Ones, meanwhile, were playing water polo, splashing about him, reaching to touch. He laughed, barely seemed bothered when I melted away. He understood, of course home, responsibilities, cabbage Let her go!
The hallway was black; the sitting room, too, only the kitchen glowed.
Andrew wordlessly set down a frying pan with eggs.
“Hungry, after your swim? Eat. Want some sausage? He poured me a big mug of tea.
I shook my head. Darednt meet his eyes, quickly stabbing at my eggs.
Did he know? What now? Why was he so calm?!
Iz After a long pause, Andrew spoke. Gail brought some stuff over. Tried to take charge, but I sent her packing. Whats she doing, eh? Your kitchen, not hers. Shes left some bags says theyre yours. Are they?
Slowly, I lifted the tablecloth, staring at the shopping bags, shrugged.
Exactly what I said! Rubbish! Andrew said, almost cheerfully. Pour me some. Actually, get out the brandy. I fancy a drop, he asked.
I jumped up, went to the cupboard, then froze.
Little one, I heard my husband say. I spun, searching his eyes.
Theres crumbs on the table, tidy them up. Tammy always gets bread everywhere. Get a cloth, would you? he finished, eyes dark, then turned away.
We drank brandy together, wordlessly, afraid to catch each others eye.
At last, Andrew left the room.
Gail, hes gone! Just packed up, left the keys on the side. Gail! I sobbed down the phone, staring at my face in the mirror, seeing how ugly Little One looked now, just three hours since Id been swimming with Matt. My hair still reeked of chlorine, my back ached. How could he? Do real men do that? He left me and Tammy, just walked out!
Anger flared in me and I clenched my fists, thumped the table.
Just like a real man, Izzie. Another might have hit you, destroyed you. Andrew simply left. And from his own flat, too. And you still dare speak of him? Gail sighed. I never understood why things were the way they were for you always enough money, Tammys a star, Andrews no drunk, hes handy. A bit quiet, yes, but better than parading his mates home. But you you wanted a fairy tale, and someone to coo over you. But you never gave him a kind word, a compliment! Men are like children, Izzie. Praise them, and theyll do anything for you. No, I cant back you here. Sorry. Goodnight.
I placed the phone on the table, hunched on the chair, quietly sobbing
Tammy passed her exams and went to the countryside with friends. She didnt speak to me, left a note not to call.
Matt resurfaced a week later, waiting near my building, stepping out of the darkness.
Hi, Little One, he hissed, hiding his red face in his jacket collar. Miss me?
Id called him a few times to cry, but he hadnt answered. Now he appeared himself
Matt I said lifelessly. What are you doing here?
I scanned for his car.
Im here for whats mine, Little One! Matt gripped my arm.
What? What are you talking about?
He squeezed harder. I fed you, didnt I? Kept you happy? Now I need a favour, love. Give me some money, you scruffy cat! Ive got problems, and youve got your mothers flat. Well get half a million for it, easy. Lets sell it. Sell yours, too. Come on, lets go up, talk it over!
I whimpered, trying to break free but Matt dragged me along towards the entryway. I prayed someone would appear but, of course, the street was deserted.
Come on, Little One, open up, its freezing! he prodded me toward the door.
I burst into tears, collapsing onto the cold pavement. Suddenly, Matt released me, staggered, and slumped sideways with a groan.
Andrew was standing over him no hat, wild hair, fists clenching.
Get out! Get out, do you hear? Or Ill finish you! Andrew bellowed, darting at Matt, who quickly realised he was outmatched and sneered, raising his brows as if to say, Andrews got horns now, eh? He shut up quickly as Andrews fist struck his cheek.
Go on! If I ever see you near Izzie, youll regret it! Andrew snarled, picking up his fallen woolly hat, wiping his nose, and turning to me. “Come on. Lets go home. Its cold
What those two discussed all night, only the staring moon and the wind bursting through the half-open window will ever know. Two cups of untouched tea on the table, the grandfather clock ticking in the hallway. By dawn, the world had slipped into darkness, inhabited only by husband and wife, deciding, for whatever reason, to carry on
No one ever called me Little One again. If anyone had, Id have shuddered and turned away.
Matt never came back into my life. Things hadnt worked out the way hed hoped Andrew had proven surprisingly determined.
After eavesdropping on me talking about Mums flat on the bus, hearing me confess I didnt know what to do with it, lonely and exhausted as I was, Matt reckoned he could give me a hand, sort out the housing, and fix my unbearable loneliness. If hed played it cool, hed have got everything Id have handed it all over; after all, hed charmed me, spoiled me, warmed my heart. But hed rushed things. Pressure at home George was after his debt, so fiercely it burned his ribs Matt had taken a gamble, pushed me too far. It hadnt worked. Still there are always other Little Ones in the world, neglected, sad, always downbeat. Matt would find them, bring them some joy. And then collect what hes owed.
For now, hed had to move out of that silk-sheeted flat with its London skyline view, but Matt would see himself right again soon. Unless George decided otherwiseBut life after Matt was less dramatic than I expected, and perhaps kinder, too. The everyday burdens returnedemails, groceries, bills, the aftertaste of instant coffee in my solitude. Sometimes, in the soft hush before sunrise, I caught my reflection in the kitchen window and saw not the tired martyr nor the breathless Little One, but simply Izziemy own face, older but clearer.
Andrew came back, eventually. In silent shifts and small gesturesa favorite mug placed by the kettle, laundry folded without remark, a hand resting on my back as we watched an old show. No grand apologies, no declarations. Just two people, learning not to break each other further.
It took time for Tammy to forgive me. When she returned from the countryside, she looked taller, older, tired in her own way. We circled each other for days, awkward and distant, until a rainy Wednesday when I found her searching the fridge and, wordless, I sliced bread for her, as my mother once did for me.
Not just caraway seeds this time, Mum. More cinnamon, Tammy said, biting a clumsy, crooked slice. I smiled. It was a beginning.
Sometimes, I caught sight of a man in a crowdrumpled jacket, a flash of cheeky blond hair, a certain bounce in his stepand my heart would stutter, half in fear, half in longing for that old recklessness. But then the stranger would look away, the moment would dissolve, and Id come home, breathing deeply, grateful for ordinary air.
Gail visited with gossip and apples, sniffing at my humdrum life but never judging too harshly. She put her arm round me sometimes, reminding me that friendship endures even after secrets sour.
On evenings when the loneliness threatened to harden again, Id walk out to the city and stand beneath the lamps, feeling, for a few precious minutes, both fragile and unbreakable. I learned to eat well, to rest, to wear dresses I bought myselfnever hidden, never needing permission.
Little One became a memory, tucked away like a foolish letter in a box, a lesson written in longing and ripened with regret. I wore my own name again, wore it well, wore it every day.
And though no one ever called me Little One anymore, I realized at last I didnt need the world to make me feel cherished. I had found enoughjust being Izzie, in the growing quiet of my own making. And that, perhaps, was all the happy ending I ever needed.
