politely asks if he can join me, I’m properly annoyed. I want to say no, but I know I have to say yes. And then I look at him. It’s hard to explain, but probably not, for you guys, because you’ve both got long-term partners too. I just knew as soon as I saw him that he was the person I was looking for.’
‘Love at first sight?’ I glance at Guy, wondering if he is mocking me, but I do not think he is. His knee knocks against my leg, then retreats.
‘Not love. Safety. Certainty. Conviction that this was the man I would spend my life with, the missing piece of the jigsaw, at first sight. And he was. He was tall, broad, and I like both those things. Blondish, stubbly. Beautiful eyes. And an air of … well, of rightness. He sat with me, laughed at what I’d drawn on the window.’
‘Which was?’ Ellen asks.
‘Oh, a child’s picture. A house, with four windows and a door and a tree next to it, and I think there was an outsized person, too, out of all proportion to the house.’
‘That would have been the perspective,’ Guy reassures me. ‘The person must have been closer to the viewer.’
‘Exactly. Thank you. So we looked at that, and I drank my espresso, and he spooned the froth off his cappuccino, and we went to the Curzon together and watched a gorgeous Almodovar film. Then we went for dinner. We were together. That was it.’
‘Was he twenty-four too?’
‘Twenty-eight. He’d had a girlfriend, obviously, and they’d split up about six months earlier. We were both in the right place. We got married a couple of years later.’
‘Oh,’ says Ellen. ‘I’m too cynical for weddings, I really am. They get my hackles up like nothing else. All that horrific misogyny under the surface, the handing-over of the woman from one man to another. However, I have to break with my own tradition, Lara, and say that I bet you were the most stunning bride. Don’t you think, Guy?’
Guy looks oddly awkward. ‘Well,’ he says, fiddling with his plastic cup. ‘Given that Lara is one of those women who would look beautiful if she were wearing a bin bag, then yes, I’m sure she was indeed a glorious bride.’
I move on quickly. ‘It sounds like a happy-ever-after, but of course it wasn’t. The baby never arrived. We moved to Cornwall, and now I’m doing this, and he’s sitting at home waiting. He wants to adopt a child, and I don’t. To answer your question of ages ago, no, he doesn’t really go to the pub. He has friends at work, but not great friends. It’s me he wants.’
‘And no one else?’ asks Ellen.
‘Only one other person, or two or three, but they, it turned out, were never going to be born. He lives for the weekends. At least, I’m pretty sure he does. He could be cavorting around town with a different woman every night of the week, or going to lap-dancing clubs, or who knows what. But I really, seriously doubt it.’
‘Yeah,’ says Guy. ‘I doubt it too. Well, I hope you have a good weekend, Lara. I hope it’s not too pressured.’
‘Hey, Mr Thomas,’ Ellen says, turning to Guy. ‘How’s your job hunt going? Aren’t you meant to be looking for something closer to home?’
He laughs. ‘Yeah. Meant to be. On that note, I’m going to get another round in. Same again, ladies?’
‘Why not?’ I want to sit up all night, drinking with my new friends. I should be sleeping to make sure I am bright and energetic for Saturday. One more drink, however, will not hurt, and then I will have to buy another because it will be my round. After that, however, I will definitely sleep.
Before I stumble off to bed, at two in the morning, I kiss Ellen and Guy good night. Ellen hugs me tight and rubs my back and kisses my cheek. Guy brushes his lips quickly across mine, then holds me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. I realise that my hands are on his waist, and I leave them there, liking the feel of him too much.
I look into his brown eyes. He looks back. Neither of us says
‘Love at first sight?’ I glance at Guy, wondering if he is mocking me, but I do not think he is. His knee knocks against my leg, then retreats.
‘Not love. Safety. Certainty. Conviction that this was the man I would spend my life with, the missing piece of the jigsaw, at first sight. And he was. He was tall, broad, and I like both those things. Blondish, stubbly. Beautiful eyes. And an air of … well, of rightness. He sat with me, laughed at what I’d drawn on the window.’
‘Which was?’ Ellen asks.
‘Oh, a child’s picture. A house, with four windows and a door and a tree next to it, and I think there was an outsized person, too, out of all proportion to the house.’
‘That would have been the perspective,’ Guy reassures me. ‘The person must have been closer to the viewer.’
‘Exactly. Thank you. So we looked at that, and I drank my espresso, and he spooned the froth off his cappuccino, and we went to the Curzon together and watched a gorgeous Almodovar film. Then we went for dinner. We were together. That was it.’
‘Was he twenty-four too?’
‘Twenty-eight. He’d had a girlfriend, obviously, and they’d split up about six months earlier. We were both in the right place. We got married a couple of years later.’
‘Oh,’ says Ellen. ‘I’m too cynical for weddings, I really am. They get my hackles up like nothing else. All that horrific misogyny under the surface, the handing-over of the woman from one man to another. However, I have to break with my own tradition, Lara, and say that I bet you were the most stunning bride. Don’t you think, Guy?’
Guy looks oddly awkward. ‘Well,’ he says, fiddling with his plastic cup. ‘Given that Lara is one of those women who would look beautiful if she were wearing a bin bag, then yes, I’m sure she was indeed a glorious bride.’
I move on quickly. ‘It sounds like a happy-ever-after, but of course it wasn’t. The baby never arrived. We moved to Cornwall, and now I’m doing this, and he’s sitting at home waiting. He wants to adopt a child, and I don’t. To answer your question of ages ago, no, he doesn’t really go to the pub. He has friends at work, but not great friends. It’s me he wants.’
‘And no one else?’ asks Ellen.
‘Only one other person, or two or three, but they, it turned out, were never going to be born. He lives for the weekends. At least, I’m pretty sure he does. He could be cavorting around town with a different woman every night of the week, or going to lap-dancing clubs, or who knows what. But I really, seriously doubt it.’
‘Yeah,’ says Guy. ‘I doubt it too. Well, I hope you have a good weekend, Lara. I hope it’s not too pressured.’
‘Hey, Mr Thomas,’ Ellen says, turning to Guy. ‘How’s your job hunt going? Aren’t you meant to be looking for something closer to home?’
He laughs. ‘Yeah. Meant to be. On that note, I’m going to get another round in. Same again, ladies?’
‘Why not?’ I want to sit up all night, drinking with my new friends. I should be sleeping to make sure I am bright and energetic for Saturday. One more drink, however, will not hurt, and then I will have to buy another because it will be my round. After that, however, I will definitely sleep.
Before I stumble off to bed, at two in the morning, I kiss Ellen and Guy good night. Ellen hugs me tight and rubs my back and kisses my cheek. Guy brushes his lips quickly across mine, then holds me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. I realise that my hands are on his waist, and I leave them there, liking the feel of him too much.
I look into his brown eyes. He looks back. Neither of us says
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