By Chloe Shaw
After many years working as a marketing copywriter, Chloe now enjoys the freedom and creativity of writing short stories and flash fiction.
The untruth arrives one September morning in a padded envelope and sits composting in the pigeon hole at my hall of residence until mid-afternoon. I’ve no idea what’s inside but delay opening it till I find some breakfast.
As I’m eating, I wonder what the package contains and who has sent it. My sense of anticipation increases until, swallowing the final chunk of sausage, I rip the package open.
First the note – “How dare you!” I reach further inside the envelope and pull out a wilted plant. It’s a common sort of plant and holds no significance. I don’t recognise the handwriting and I find no clues from the post mark. I’m baffled.
Later, back at my room, ‘Anna, Anna, there’s a call for you’. I run to the communal phone and listen to a man telling me in low rushed tones that his wife will be ringing me shortly. I ask who he is. ‘David’ he says and hangs up.
David? The David I worked with over the summer holidays? The quiet, conscientious man who sat at the desk next to mine in the admissions office, processing grant applications? Why would he be ringing?
A minute or so after replacing the handset the phone rings again. This time a woman. She doesn’t introduce herself and I listen to a stream of accusations. There’s mention of a plant and a letter. She tells me David’s bags are packed and he’s waiting by the door.
I don’t get the chance to respond. I want to say ‘Are you joking? I just wrote to thank him for the leaving card and present. Your husband is just someone I sat next to in an office’. But for the second time someone hangs up on me before I can speak and the sound of the handset slamming down rings in my ear.
Then I remember the jiffy bag. Of course, my office plant! That peace lily sat on my desk that whole summer. I left it behind without a thought. Had it taken on greater meaning since?