Matt raised his glass to Becca. “To our gracious hostess,” he said. “How’s things? Who’s this new man Maudie was telling me about?”
Becca laughed. “That would be Martin. Has Maudie told you he’s a whole seven years younger than I am? How about that?”
“A youngster?” cried Matt in mock anguish. “What for? You don’t want one of those, you want a sugar daddy, just like Maudie.”
Becca grinned. “So you say. Perhaps all the good ones are taken. Hey, Maudie?”
“What?” I said, pulling my gaze away from the dark street.
Becca enumerated Martin’s good qualities for the next half an hour, clattering about with pots and pans as she talked. She only drew breath to drag on her cigarette, finally grinding it out with a decisive jab before she bought the plates to the table.
“Disgusting habit, smoking while cooking,” she said. “Sorry. Anyway, Martin wants to take me to Paris for the weekend. It’s so nice to have a bit of romance in a relationship for a change. Don’t you think, Maudie?”
“Yes, right,” I said. Despite the steaming plate of food in front of me, I suddenly had to get up and walk about, I felt so jittery. I walked over to the window again and looked up. Nothing; just the railings and the trailing fronds of a dusty ivy plant in view. I turned back to find both Matt and Becca watching me with concern.
“Is there a problem, Maudie?” said Becca.
I tried to laugh. “No. It’s just–” I couldn’t think of an adequate explanation for my nerves, not one that would suffice. I forced myself to walk back to the table and sit down. I poured myself some more wine, spilling a little over the side of the glass. I could see Matt watching me. He was frowning very slightly and I saw his eyes meet Becca’s, just for a moment, a split second of unspoken communication.
“I’m alright,” I said, with more emphasis. “I didn’t sleep so well last night. I’m just a bit tired. For Christ’s sake, everyone stop treating me like I’m a baby.”
My voice went up sharply at the end of the sentence. There was a moment of silence.
“Okay,” said Becca, rather brightly. “Matt, tell me about you. What’s been happening?”
Matt put his knife and fork down.
“Rebecca, sorry, would you excuse me a moment?”
“Sure,” she said, eyebrows raised.
He turned to me. “Maudie, could I have a word? In private?”
I nodded. He led me into the hallway and closed the kitchen door gently. I stared at him, my chin up.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What do you–” I began, hotly.
He took me by the shoulders, not quite shaking me. “Don’t ask me what I bloody mean. What is wrong with you? You’re jumping at shadows, you keep looking for something or someone. You’ve got bags the size of suitcases under your eyes.”
I took a step back, shaking off his hands. “I’m fine. I’m sick of people asking me.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he said. He had that look on his face that was worse than anger, that helpless, lost look, the one that turned his face into the face of someone much younger and more vulnerable. It turned something in me, digging deep.
“I feel like I should know what’s wrong,” he said. “There’s nothing you can’t tell me, you know that, don’t you? How can I help you if you won’t tell me?”
I spoke above the blood rushing in my ears. “There’s nothing to tell.”
He stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of defeat. “Is it–” he said and then stopped.
“What?”
“Are you?” he said, and then stopped again.
I could feel the wine churning in my stomach and swallowed hard. “Are you having an affair?”
I was so surprised and so relieved at his mistake that a shout of laughter escaped me. He looked bewildered. I kept laughing, I couldn’t help it.
“Oh Matt,” I said. I went up to him and put my arms round his neck, brushing my face against his bristly cheek. “I’m not having an affair. I promise you.”
He stepped back and looked at me. “Sorry,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I said. Relief was making me feel weak and tired. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have done. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just tired and I’m – I’m grieving.”
“I know,” said Matt. He put a hand up to his face, pushing his fingers underneath his glasses to rub between his eyes. He looked as tired as I felt. “We’d better get back to Becca,” Matt sighed. “Just – look, please don’t embarrass me again tonight. Or yourself. Please don’t have any more to drink.”
I clenched my jaw but I made myself nod. We walked back into the kitchen and I pinned a smile on my face. Rebecca sat with the elaborately casual air of someone pretending they hadn’t heard a word of an argument.
I sat down, keeping my back to the window so as not to have to look out. I forced myself to listen to Becca and Matt, smile at appropriate places in their conversation and all the while, I ran over my strange meeting with my lost best friend, again and again and again.
Chapter Twenty Two
It was in one of the few moments of the day that I wasn’t thinking about Jessica when she reappeared. I’d just left the flat, heading for my gym and a swimming session. I’d been neglecting my exercise routine lately and it was making me feel uncomfortable; not only did I feel fat and unfit, but gentle regular exercise was one of the many ways I kept the demons at bay.
Matt and I had spent Christmas very quietly, just the two of us eating a meal at home and watching old films on TV, but I’d over-eaten, drunk far too much, and I was feeling the effects. It was time for me to start being a bit more self-denying. I was looking forward to the warm water, the echoing footsteps of the other swimmers as they walked beside the pool, the wobbling light reflected onto the ceiling. I would swim thirty lengths, shower and treat myself at the gym’s café.
So my mind was elsewhere. I was walking away from the building when I heard my name spoken and, simultaneously, a hand on my shoulder. In the two seconds it took me to spin round and recognise her, I felt my heart give a gigantic thud. I breathed in sharply, the reverse of a scream and my hands went up to my face. A man walking towards me must have seen my panic as he hesitated for a second and then obviously thought better of asking me if I was alright. Jessica stood there on the pavement in her long black coat. She put the hand she touched me with back into her pocket.
“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I managed a shaky laugh. She put her head on one side. Her blonde hair glowed in the dull light of the winter afternoon. She looked better than before; healthier, somehow.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“I–” I opened my mouth and shut it again. My head buzzed with the backwash of adrenaline. “I was, but it’s not important.”
There was a short silence.
“Will you come and have a drink with me?”
We went to pub two streets away; I’d passed it often but hadn’t been into it. There were tables outside on the pavement and Jessica gestured to one of them.
“Mind if we sit outside so I can smoke?”
I nodded. I was feeling light-headed again. I pinched a fold of my coat between my fingers; something tangible that I could keep hold of. I kept staring at the table while Jessica went to get our drinks. Perhaps she wouldn’t come back again and I’d be sat here alone, as minutes lengthened into hours...