My Name Is Echo Read online

  It was a couple of weeks before I finally rang. I’d chosen the time and place carefully but I was ambivalent so when he answered, I was cold.

  ‘It’s Anya. You wanted to speak to me?’

  There was a long silence ‘Yes, I’d like to explain.’

  ‘For what?’

  Another silence. Then, ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest. It seemed not to bother you for years you hadn’t been in touch.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t know where you were.’ I didn’t reply. He said, ‘I do want to see you, Anya.’

  ‘How did you know where I was?’

  ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

  ‘No, now. Tell me now, before I see you. That is, if I do see you. You might be an impostor, for all I know.’

  ‘You’ve seen me. You know very well I’m not.’

  ‘So tell me.’

  ‘It was a total fluke. I was at your Uni helping backstage with the lighting when I saw you walking along a corridor. I couldn’t believe it. You’ve no idea how I felt… I want to see you…even if it’s only once, for old time’s sake.’

  As soon as Ifan said, ‘once’, tears welled in my eyes. I said ‘Alright. Just the once then.’

  We arranged to meet a week later in the Wetherspoon’s pub along the Holloway Road. It wasn’t cool or trendy, but interesting. It had been a cinema and he’d said if we got there early we could talk in private. He was standing at the bar when I arrived and walked towards me to greet me. I thought he was going to kiss me but he shook my hand instead. He smiled, but I didn’t. If someone close to you vanishes for years and you’ve grown up in that time, it’s difficult to know how to be.

  ‘What would you like to drink?’

  ‘What are you having?’

  ‘I’ll see what’s on offer.’

  I restrained myself from making a quippy response. I could have, but I didn’t want to wind him up. ‘A large Chardonnay,’ I said. I glanced round.

  ‘Do you want to find a seat?’

  I nodded, walked to the back and found a place furthest away from the bar and where we’d be on our own. While I waited, my mind ranged over the summers we’d shared. He’d been so important to me. I watched him banter with the barmaid as he bought drinks at the bar. He’d grown up. He was self-confident with an easy smile and I imagined women would fancy him. Perhaps he was a flirt. It was when he walked towards me I saw the old Ifan. His light eyes, the intensity of gaze – he was an outsider with the good looks of a Russian.

  I’d chosen to sit at a table instead of a sofa. I didn’t want him sitting next to me. He put my drink down and sat down opposite, looking closely at me. To avoid his gaze, I stared at the framed photos of old movie stars on the wall and the huge vintage movie camera placed in the middle of the pub.

  ‘I should have dressed for the occasion, instead of my jeans.’ He didn’t reply or ask what I meant. Perhaps he knew.

  ‘It’s doing my head in,’ I said.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Seeing you, sitting there opposite. Are you really Ifan?’ I picked up the wine, took a long sip and placed the glass carefully between us. I measured its positioning. It was exactly equidistant. I looked at him, ‘How long have you been in London?’

  ‘Three years or so. For my degree, electrical engineering.’ I restrained myself again, stopping myself from telling him a joke about engineers. It would have been funny, but a put down. Instead I asked, ‘So how come you were at my finals?’

  ‘I work for an agency. I do lighting and when I saw you, I couldn’t believe it. I often used to think about you.’ He smiled and went to take my hand but I pulled it away from him. He looked across towards the bar but said nothing.

  I said, ‘Why didn’t you speak to me when you first saw me?’

  ‘Because…I wanted to be sure it was you and to check you out.’

  ‘Like the first time we met.’

  ‘Yes, I’m still the same.’

  ‘Was it you who sent me those flowers, there was no note on them?’

  ‘I did send you some. Did you like them?’

  ‘Thanks, I did. I expected to see a humming bird fly from them, they were so exotic.’ I was feeling more and more awkward. ‘Where do you live?’

  ‘Clissold Park, borders of Stoke Newington.’

  ‘Trendy… Well, have I changed much?’

  He looked hard at me before answering. ‘You’re being flirty but of course you have. You’re a woman now. When I last saw you, you were a girl.’

  ‘I’m not flirting. It was a straight question. Is that all you can say?’

  He smiled slightly before saying, ‘For the moment. I miss

  Wales.’

  ‘Like what in particular?’

  ‘The sea. I miss the sea.’

  His gaze made me feel uncomfortable. I wondered what he was thinking. ‘There’s no sea at Ffridd,’ I said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘So where are you talking about?’

  ‘We moved. After we nearly drowned.’

  ‘We? You moved? You said you’d tell me.’

  ‘I will. I’m trying to get my thoughts together. You’re not the only one, Echo, who’s stirred up.’

  ‘Anya’.

  ‘Sorry. Anya. Why did you change your name?’

  ‘Because I was fed up being my mother’s echo.’

  ‘Echo and echo. Makes sense. You told me about her.’

  ‘You remember?’

  ‘Of course. Everything. How could I forget?’ He was smiling, looking into my eyes. I felt myself blush as he said, ‘Do you?’

  ‘Of course, everything.’ I hadn’t eaten and the drink was getting to me. I looked down and studied my bag, twisting the handle round my fingers. ‘So,’ I said, ‘what happened? Why the disappearing trick?’

  There was a long pause. He seemed to be thinking.

  ‘When that first wave caught us, I lost my handhold, and got washed off. I called out to you but the noise was too great. Your eyes were closed. You couldn’t have heard me. I was swept away. I thought I would drown…the water carried me towards a bank… I was caught in a massive tree branch. Little by little I managed to pull myself out. I staggered to a nearby house, an ambulance was called… I was taken to a hospital in Cardiff.’

  ‘Cardiff? Why not Chepstow? I went to Chepstow. That’s why I couldn’t find you.’

  ‘You looked for me?’ He sounded surprised.

  ‘Don’t be stupid, Ifan, of course I did. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude but why wouldn’t I? I’d almost drowned, and you’d gone, I wanted to find out where you were. But I didn’t have your surname or your address. I knew nothing about you.’

  ‘Is that all? To check I was alive.’ He looked across the room and then back at me almost accusingly. ‘You knew plenty.’

  ‘Yes, but I didn’t know how to find you.’

  ‘I didn’t know where you were either. You lived in London but I didn’t know where. I only had your first name and even that you’ve changed.’

  ‘Why were you taken to Cardiff and not where I was, in

  Chepstow?’

  ‘The emergency services. They were working flat out that day. Surfers riding the bore. We weren’t the only ones in trouble. They took me to Cardiff but I was discharged straightaway. They said there were no ill effects…well, they were wrong because soon after I began having serious asthma attacks.’

  He stopped, looked down at his beer mat, turning it round and round, then stood up. ‘I’m having another pint. Would you like another drink?’

  ‘Please.’ I could see he was upset. When he returned he placed the glass by the old one and continued, ‘So the asthma was investigated, they found no cause, but as you know, I’ve no medical history, you know, on my family, ther
e’s no history on file.’ He stopped and looked hard at me, checking to see if I remembered. I did, but I wasn’t going to interrupt.

  ‘My adopters found out about us, the river, the pontoon, everything. I hadn’t told them. They said I was too easily led. They were angry and blamed you. They were prejudiced. It was as if you were evil. I hated them and I wanted to go into care. I was sent to a child psychiatrist. She said it was psychosomatic and prescribed drugs. I refused to take them. They said it would be best to move so they put the house on the market and within the year we’d moved to the Gower. They said I had to forget, and that it was best that way. They forbade any contact with you. I thought I’d never see you again… What was going on for you?’

  I was silent for a while. ‘I tried and tried to find you. Then we went back to London. I didn’t want to go back to the estuary ever again. Without you, it wasn’t the same. They tried to make me believe I’d imagined everything. But I didn’t believe them. Eventually I thought you must be dead. I gave up and I stopped thinking about you. Or that’s what I thought.’

  I paused, then said, ‘Parents don’t take children seriously, or respect our friendships. They lie, they cheat. How horrible taking you to the Gower to get away from me. As if I was evil. Didn’t they know I didn’t live in Ffridd?’

  ‘Yes, they knew that and that we got together in the summer. Maybe they were jealous, frightened they’d lose me.’ He paused, looked at me carefully before continuing, ‘But to be fair, I was difficult.’

  ‘Difficult?’

  ‘Doing crazy things, stealing, petty vandalism, on the verge of delinquency, they said, and the asthma, all the time it was getting worse. They assumed it was your fault that we’d gone on the Severn, whereas in fact, it was my idea. I did tell them, but they didn’t want to hear.’

  ‘Head games, they make me crazy.’

  Ifan smiled. ‘Hah, but there’s one thing. When it was really bad, I used to think about you.’

  We looked at each other and smiled.

  ‘Yes, but I still wonder whether I really was your first, the first girl you felt like that about.’

  ‘What’s it matter, Anya. It was more important than that. The psychiatrist guessed. She asked me some stuff I found embarrassing, but I never told.’

  ‘Have you been with anyone since?’

  Ifan looked away and said, ‘What do you think, Echo? It’s a long time ago and I’m normal.’

  I felt irritated. ‘Why do you keep calling me Echo? I’m

  Anya now.’

  ‘You’re still the girl in the estuary. Echo, Anya. Why do you care so much what you’re called?’

  That took me aback. For a moment I didn’t know what to say, so I returned to my question, ‘So you have slept with others.’ It was a statement as much as a question.

  It was his turn to get irritated, ‘What’s it to you? Of course I have. I’m a guy. Haven’t you had sex?’

  I looked away to avoid his eyes. ‘Actually. No.’

  ‘No? Well, I’m surprised… What’s stopped you?’

  He was staring at me as if I came off planet Zogg. I could have told him the truth but I didn’t. He’d think Gareth was too old for me and anyway, I still felt raw about being rejected. I said, ‘I could have, but for one reason or another, I haven’t. I could have slept with some of the guys round my own age but I didn’t fancy them.’

  Ifan seemed astonished by this. He looked at me as if I was some kind of freak. Neither of us spoke and we continued drinking in silence. He suddenly asked, ‘What are your future plans for work?’

  ‘I’ve got several leads from NGOs. I’ll follow those up.’

  ‘Your show was stunning. I loved your dresses and the dancers. You’re imaginative. I like how you dress, come to think of it.’

  ‘Oh, this. Revamped. I got the dress from Camden Market, the cardigan from a friend, the shoes from a market stall.’

  ‘So you practise what you preach. You look different. Feminine. Very feminine.’

  I ignored that. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m signed up with an agency. I took an option in architectural lighting on my course, that’s where I’m heading, that’s what I want to do.’

  ‘My best mate, Maddy, is doing architecture. Architectural lighting? Is that lighting up old buildings?’

  ‘Old and new, exteriors and interiors.’ He was looking at me as if he was thinking. He said, ‘I don’t live too far away. After you’ve finished, you could come round to my flat, have something to eat, a coffee and I’ll walk you back. Where do you live?’

  ‘Not far. Off Seven Sisters Road in Stroud Green with my mother, but I want to move, once I get a job.’

  ‘No distance then.’

  I nodded. ‘Okay, that’s cool.’

  It was hard to believe that we’d found each other after all this time. Neither of us said much but after we finished our drinks, we walked round to his flat. It was large, on the first floor of a Victorian house and we had to squeeze past the bikes in the hall to get up the stairs, ‘Is one of these bikes yours?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘Nothing. Just idle curiosity. Why aren’t the others being used?’

  ‘One guy is at his girlfriend’s, the other’s away for the weekend.’

  It was a typical guys’ flat, untidy, cramped, with yet another bike inside their sitting room. On the wall was a series of stunning colour photos showing trees lit up at night. A child’s picture of fairyland. I was fascinated by them.

  The bookshelves set in an alcove each side of the fireplace sagged under the weight of a random assortment of text books: electrical engineering, computing, zoology, but one shelf containing CDs was incredibly neat and arranged in alphabetic order. Someone with OCD, I thought.

  Ifan went to make coffee, returned five minutes later and asked if I minded a takeaway, because there was no food in the fridge. I said, no problem. I was feeling awkward, like a spare part. I leant against the table trying to act nonchalant.

  ‘I like the tree photography. Did you take them?’

  He handed me the coffee and sat down on the floor.

  ‘Thanks. I did. Second year lighting project. Anya, you’re making me feel edgy… I wish you hadn’t changed your name. I always liked Echo. Why don’t you sit down?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t like my name, that’s why.’ I sat on the sofa. It was the only chair free of clothes. ‘Look, I’m sitting down now, can you see?’ I grinned. It was time to lighten up.

  He picked up on that. ‘Yes, I can see you. I’m looking at you and you’re sitting down.’

  He was smiling at me, talking the talk, and I was reminded of how we used to be, that we’d sometimes play with words as well as with dens, water, driftwood and pontoons. ‘Do you mind if I sit by you?’

  ‘No. As long as you keep your distance.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to keep my distance? What if I want to sit by you and you don’t really want me to keep my distance, but you don’t know that.’

  ‘Men always say stuff like that or think it. Even if they don’t say it.’

  ‘I’m going to sit by you anyway. Then you can test your theory.’

  ‘What theory?’

  ‘That you want me at the other end of the sofa. Then you can see how you feel once I’m there. Anya. I’m going to have to practise saying your new name.’

  ‘Ifan.’

  ‘What do you want, Anya?’

  ‘I don’t know what I want.’

  ‘I think you do. I certainly do. I want to continue where we left off ten years ago.’

  That surprised me. I looked at him, searching his face for clues. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘I’m very serious. But you don’t trust me, that’s what

  I think.’

  I was feeling uncomfortable. I hadn’t expected
things to move so quickly but he was right, I didn’t know what I wanted of him, and I didn’t trust him.

  I stood up and walked over to the CDs. ‘Would you mind if I take a look at the music?’ I needed some sort of distraction.

  ‘No. Help yourself.’

  I began sifting through the pile of vinyl and CDs.

  ‘Somebody’s a big blues fan. BB King “Rock Me Baby”. Haven’t heard that for a while. Will you play it?’

  He didn’t answer but walked over to the sofa and put on the CD. I remained by the hi-fi, leaning against the table by the window with my arms folded, watching him. The music was loud, rhythmic, the words raunchy. When the track finished, he stood up and moved over to where I was standing and said, ‘Excuse me, Mademoiselle,’ and pulled down the blind behind me. He put the same CD on and taking hold of me said, ‘Let’s dance.’

  I wasn’t going to refuse. He pulled me towards him but within a minute I felt so awkward, I stopped. ‘It’s not proper dance music. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to dance.’

  ‘Fine, is it the words that put you off?’

  ‘What? Of “Rock Me Baby”? No. What about them?’

  ‘Well, think about it, pretty babe, rock me all night long.’ I knew at that point where his mind was. ‘Right. Yeah well. I didn’t. Anyway, so what? It’s written by a man. That’s why it’s crude.’

  He sat down again. ‘Well, you chose. Crude or not. Don’t girls ever feel like that? Maybe you don’t.’

  ‘You’re being sarcastic. But if you’re interested, sometimes.’

  ‘Seeing is believing. Here’s a challenge. Do you know a song where a woman says what she wants?’ He jumped up and walked across to the CD shelf, ‘Actually, here’s the same song, the same words, the same music, only it’s Etta James’ singing. I’ll play it…if I can find it. Okay?’

  I didn’t answer beyond saying, ‘Etta James, she sounds like a man.’ He ignored that and continued looking along the lines of CDs on the shelves. ‘Thanks to my flatmate, here it is, neatly filed under ‘J’, I’ll put it on.’

  I laughed, flew across and snatched it out of his hand, ‘Oh no you won’t, because it’s the same as the other one, only sung by a woman. You’re taking the piss, Ifan. Leave me to look for one I like.’