Do You Remember, Sue? He’d grown used to peeking through their downstairs window, since that’s whe…

Remember, Susan

Hed long since gotten into the habit of peeking through their window, given they lived on the ground floor. At first, a higher floor seemed more prestigious, but they grew content with their lot. No one was happier than Grandmano endless flights of stairs for her old knees. Each Saturday, Mrs. Anna Michaelson, Susans grandma, baked pies or scones or something else tempting and fragrant. The smell of baked goods floated out of the kitchen window, tormenting the boys kicking a football around outside.

Leon sidled up to the window in his own manner, not to the kitchen one, mind you, but from around the side of the building. Hed drag an abandoned crate from the long grass, stand atop it, and peer in at Susan. She always seemed to sense his arrival, rushing over at the sound of him scrambling up.

Ill bring some buns in a moment, Gran baked a batch. Her pink hair ribbon, barely containing her blonde ponytail, untied itself and bounced with her hurried steps.

So tasty! Leon munched happily, glancing inside. Did you do the English homework? he asked, his mouth full.

Yep, already done.

Can I copy?

Susan handed over her notebook with ease. Dont forget to bring it back tomorrow morning. Ill need it before lessons.

Leon was a decent student, just lazy, like most boys with a bit of spark. He was sharp in maths, but the football pitch swallowed up hours meant for homework. In the nineties, when mobile phones were still fantasy, the kids could stay out all night, not wanting to head home.

In year eight, Leon carried Susans schoolbag for the first time, swinging it extravagantly and chattering on about some new film. Come year nine, delicate, brown-eyed Sophieby silent agreement among the ladsbecame the schools reigning beauty. And Leon was smitten. He never let her out of his sight, hovered nearby, escorted her home. Susan hoped itd all blow over. Now, she waited by the window, ready when Leon knocked and said, Susan, let me copy!

Sophie had mastered the art of distance, yet somehow wrapped Leon around her finger. He oscillated between Sophiesometimes friendly, sometimes coldand Susan, who always waited for him.

Still, he peered in her window, where shed place a steaming mug of tea on the sill, grab a biscuit if the pies had run out.

Heard our lot lost, he reported, meaning the football team. Susan always knew what Leon cared about: she watched football, read sports news, braved horror films that made her queasyall so she could talk with him about whatever he fancied.

She was his confidant, there for him as a mate through thick and thin. Leon relied on her for listening, understanding, rescuing. Sophie, though Sophie he admired, thought about, suffered for, even whined to Susan when Vic offered to walk Sophie home.

After school, all three ended up at different universities. Leon stopped coming for Susans homework, trailing behind Sophie instead. Sometimes hed pop round out of habit; occasionally they went to the cinema, Leon jabbering non-stop, needing to get it all out.

Leon, my birthdays on Saturday. Id like you to come. Will you? Susan looked at him with those big grey, love-struck eyes.

He pondered. Saturday? Well, yes, why not. Ill come. Wholl be there?

Parents, Grandma, Vera and Vadim, Ollyyou know them, all our friends.

Alright, sorted, Ill drop by.

Saturday came and went. No Leon. Only the following week did he arrive, crestfallen and deflated. Leon, whats up? You look done in.

He moaned that Sophie had gone away on placement without a word to him. Susan comforted him, though her heart quietly ached. I expected you on Saturday, she reminded him.

What happened Saturday?

My birthday

Oh! He smacked his forehead. Susan, I forgot. Youre not cross, are you?

Of course not, these things happen.

He stepped up to the window. Remember how you used to feed me pies in the summer? That crate outside, Id climb up, and there was tea and jam on the sill.

Susan smiled, warmed by the memory. Nice, really, that he remembered. They reminisced, swapping tales about their old school gang, classmates, and the time they bunked off only to be caught by their teacher on a park bench and marched back to history.

Final year at uni, Leon was over the moonSophie had agreed to marry him. He brought the news to Susan. She bit her lip, fighting back tears, pretending to be the same dependable pal.

She spent a month crying into her pillow, berating herself for never confessing her feelings in all those years.

Later, he returned. Gran and her parents happened to be out visiting, the flat oddly quiet. Susan, swaddled in an old throw, watched telly, hardly believing that Leons voice rang out behind the door.

She opened up and found him there, looking devastated, hollow, his shoulder pressed to the wall. Whats wrong? she worried.

He came in, slumped in her room, almost in tears. Susan, whats happened?

She theres no wedding. She loves someone else. Susan had never seen him so broken. She moved closer, placed her hands on his shoulders. Leon, calm down, please maybe itll all work out.

No, its over. She said herself, cancelled everything you understand? Tears glistened in his eyes. He lowered his head onto her lap, sliding from the sofa, burying his face in her skirt. Its impossible, Susan, impossible

Leon, darling, please calm down. Let me make you some mint tearemember how we used to sip tea on the sill?

I remember, Susan. Youre the only one who understands. Youre good, he started kissing her knees, first hesitantly, then more fiercely, as if pouring all his pain out through his lips. He leapt up, wrapped her waist, showered her face and neck with kisses, whispered nonsense.

Leon, stop it, what are you doing?

Susan Susan

Leon, Leon, I love you! Have loved you since year six, my sweet

He left well after midnight, eyes shifty, unable to look her in the face. Right, bye then. Ill see you around

Ill wait for you, she said, watching until the front door slammed.

Leon never returned, as if that night was just some fever dream. Soon after, he graduated and left for work in the Far East.

We need to do something! Dad whispered indignantly. Could call his parents, for heavens sake.

You know she doesnt want that! Shes anxiouscould harm the baby, Mum replied. Besides, Leon knows shes expecting, she told him. He behaved like a stranger maybe even left as a deliberate act

Well, we cant just let things drift. Its outrageous, Dad fumed.

Gran kept busy with her knitting, wiping away the occasional tear, secretly aggrieved for her granddaughter: smart, kind, loving girl

When Susans daughter was born, she managed to get Leons work number from a university friend and called him, saying just, Leon, we have a daughter. I called her Leonie.

He mumbled incoherently, the only words coming through: Congratulations.

When Leonie was eighteen months, Susans parents announced theyd finally paid off a new flat, so they were moving, taking Gran with them. The new flat was much like the oldtwo bedrooms, just in another neighbourhood. Well visit, take turns helping, Mum promised.

Susan burst into tears.

Oh really, whats that for? Mum scolded gently. Ill be round every day, look after Leonie, bring her back for visits. Youre doing home-based work now

I just miss us all together, Susan admitted.

Love, time moves on, you need to get your life sorteditll be easier, living on your own, Mum soothed.

Of late, Susan heard it from everyoneparents, Gran, her matesthat she needed to sort her life, shes young, and plenty of women marry even with kids.

A week later, Susan had full command of her little flat. Baby Leonie, giggling, toddled around, legs pumping, landing softly on her bottom, then raising her arms for Mum. Susan would scoop her up, hug her, laughing too.

He appeared suddenly, as he always used to. Like that time his wedding fell apart with Sophie.

Susan assumed it was her dad, was expecting his visit, but instead, Leon stood in the doorway, clutching a huge red toy fire engine.

Hello! Are you alone? Did I interrupt? May I come in?

Hed grown older, perhaps thinner, his features sharper.

Come on then.

He placed the fire engine on the floor.

A babys cry rang out; Susan went to fetch Leonie and held her in her arms. Heres my daughter, she said, nodding at the toy.

Leon slapped his forehead. Sorry

Take the fire engine, give it to someone else, Susan told him.

He shrugged off his coat, wandered into the kitchen. Pretty much the same, nothings really changed. Maybe youll at least make me some tea?

She flicked on the kettle, not letting go of her daughter. Leon was awkward, unable to find a thread of conversation.

He looked at hera fair-haired woman with loose locks, in a dress brushing her ankles, baby in her arms. You honestly look like the Madonna, he murmured.

Susan stayed silent.

Remember how your Gran baked those amazing pies? And how we used to drink tea on your window sill? That was back in your room. And how your Gran watered the flowers and accidentally splashed water out the windowcaught me standing below without even seeing me, Leon tried to smile. Remember, Susan

Dont remember, Susan cut him off. Her reply was casual, almost indifferent. Leon fell silent, taken aback. It wasnt payback for his earlier muddle with mistaking her childs genderit was sincere. She really had started to forget the small details of their past. Now, she had a daughter, all her time devoted to Leonie, delighting in her, marvelling at every new word, trying to record every babble, watching how she slept, woke, played

Go on, drink your teaI’ve got porridge to make for my daughter.

For the first time, Leon realised no one in this house waited for him anymore. He stood up, slipped on his coat. Alright, another time. Ill be off thenlooks like youre busy. He hesitated a few seconds, obviously hoping Susan would protest, but she didnt.

As she closed the door behind Leon, she quietly said: There wont be another timetea and coffee arent served here anymore.

She returned to her daughter, scooped her up, kissed her, and went to make porridge.