But now a brisk wind is blowing and the daisy’s feeling pretty buffeted. Actually, I might leave now. I’ve said hello to everyone from the group and we’ve promised we’ll have another reunion, and it’s been nice to see them in a way. Although it’s not the same. How could it be? In Puglia we were a group of unburdened souls in kurta pajamas. In this London pub, Richard has turned into an anorak-wearing bore, and Eithne can only talk about her grandchildren. Anna has told me endlessly about her brilliant career and looked gleeful when I told her that Matt and I had broken up. Everyone’s just a little paler and frownier than they were in Italy. Including me, I’m sure.
Mouthing a general vague apology at Eithne, I step outside the pub and into the drizzly London street, then breathe out, trying to shed all the feelings that have been building up over the last few days. And I’m just peering at a passing bus, wondering if I should catch one home, when my phone jangles with a FaceTime request. It’s Ronald, wanting to chat, and I smile wryly. Of all the moments.
Ronald is the one member of the Warwick family I’ve stayed in touch with. I speak to him maybe twice a month, sometimes more. He called me soon after I arrived in Puglia, and we had a nice, aimless chat. He was interested to hear about Italy, and he had a few things to say about the news. Then he started telling me about his awful scam again, and even though he was repeating what I already knew, I listened sympathetically. I sensed he needed to say it, and he doesn’t get a chance to at home. We didn’t talk about Matt. When he strayed in that direction, I said, “Actually, could we not talk about Matt?” And we haven’t mentioned him ever since. Or any of the family. But we’ve chatted. And it’s been nice.
Not now, though. It’s not the time. I decline his request and send a quick text suggesting we talk another day. Then I start walking briskly, trying to put distance between me and the pub. I need to move on from all this, both literally and mentally. Enough. Regroup. Onward.
As the word “onward” passes through my mind, I think of Sarika, and my heart contracts. Because that’s where I should be. With my friends. With my squad. I haven’t even told them I’m back yet. Not sure why. I suppose I hoped…
Stupid daisy.
With firmer resolve, I turn my steps toward the tube. I’ll go round to Nell’s and surprise her. Should have thought of that before.
* * *
—
It takes me about half an hour to reach Nell’s street, picking up some flowers on the way. As I stride along the pavement toward her building, it really hits me, what I’m doing, and I start to feel excited. Exhilarated, even. Because it’s been months! And I’ve finished my book! And I’ve missed my friends so much. So much. And they have no idea I’m back!
I have to thank Maud especially, because my flat looks amazing. So tidy! She’s upcycled the shelving unit and the kitchen chairs and the dresser, which is now blue with wallpaper inside the cupboards. It’s gorgeous. It’s all gorgeous. It was definitely worth waiting for.
The trees on either side of Nell’s street are covered with blossom, lit up by streetlamps, and the sight of it makes me smile wryly in spite of myself. There we are. The spring. Can’t stop it.
It’s only when I’m on the forecourt of her building that I suddenly feel nervous. No, not nervous, but…Should I text her at least, rather than just arriving on the doorstep?
I find myself a discreet place to perch, on a low bollard between two parked cars, dump my flowers on the ground, and get out my phone. But I can’t think what to text that won’t sound totally cheesy. Also: Should I tell the others I’m back too? In fact, should I have thought this through a bit more?
I’m just about to summon up WhatsApp when the sight of an approaching car draws my attention. It’s a navy-blue Fiat that I recognize, because it belongs to Nell’s neighbor, John Sweetman. And he’s parking in the disabled spot. Again. As I see his calm, bespectacled face through the windscreen, reversing as though nothing’s wrong, I feel a surge of rage at him. Still? I mean, really, still?
You go away for six transformative months and you return, all full of positive energy…and then this. Some things never change. Wearily, I thrust my phone back in my pocket, and I’m about to get up to challenge him, when a voice breaks the silence: “Hey!”
It’s a deep, furious male voice. A voice I…recognize?
I must be dreaming. I must be hallucinating. But…I’m not. A moment later, he comes into view, striding toward John Sweetman like an angry bull, and I can’t help gasping.
Matt?
“Move your fucking car,” he says, and bangs on John Sweetman’s car window. “Don’t you think about parking there. Don’t you even think about it. My friend needs that space. Move.”
I don’t hear what John Sweetman says in reply, if anything. I’m not sure I’m functioning. My hand has moved to my mouth and I can’t breathe. I mean…Matt?
“Move!” Matt sounds like he’s about to explode. He’s quite a menacing sight, tall and stacked and eyebrow lowered. He looks as though he’s about to demolish an opponent in the fight ring. If I were John Sweetman, I’d be terrified.
Sure enough, a moment later, John Sweetman’s engine starts up. Matt steps back, out of the way, waiting for him to move. Then he turns and beckons, and another car approaches. Nell’s car. What…what is happening?
Nell’s car maneuvers into the disabled space, and a moment later the door opens and Topher gets out, then leans back in.
“OK, careful…carefully…” I can hear him saying.
An arm goes around his shoulders and Matt comes to help him, so for a moment my view is blocked by the two men’s backs, but then Topher stands up straight, and he’s holding Nell in his arms.
Nell?
I feel a chill as I glimpse her face. She’s so pale. What’s happened? But she smiles at Topher and he adjusts his arm around her, as though he’s done this a thousand times. Meanwhile, Matt has retrieved an overnight bag from the boot and banged it shut again. And I should say something, I should move, I should announce my presence to them…but I can’t. I’m transfixed, and my eyes are somehow wet. In fact, they’re so wet that my vision’s blurry.
John Sweetman has meanwhile parked his car elsewhere and is walking toward the building with slow, reluctant steps. Matt swings round toward him.
“Apologize to my friend,” he says shortly, and John Sweetman visibly gulps. He takes in the sight of Nell in Topher’s arms, Matt holding her bag and cane, and his defensive demeanor starts to slip.
“I had no idea,” he begins. “I had no idea the young lady…I didn’t realize. I’m…sorry.”
“You should be,” says Topher, his dark eyes tiny with contempt. “Excuse us, please.”
Matt has already opened the front door with a key—he has a key?—and he holds it open for Topher and Nell. A moment later, they’ve all disappeared.
I breathe out and wipe my eyes. This bollard I’m on is very hard and my legs have started to ache and I should stand up. But I can’t while my thoughts are whirling.
Then I hear another sound, which makes me blink in fresh astonishment.
“We’re here!” It’s Maud’s distinctive, top-volume voice. “Yup, got it all. Yes, Nihal found the elderflower cordial. So clever. See you in a sec!”
As I watch, bewildered, she sashays into sight, talking animatedly to Nihal, who’s walking in step with her. Both are holding bulging shopping bags and they look like old friends.
“I know you all believe in it. And I do absolutely respect your beliefs, Nihal. But I just think it makes no sense,” Maud is saying to him. “How can something change if you measure it? And what does quantum mean, anyway?”
“I’ll try to explain,” says Nihal in his mild way. “Do you know what an electron is, Maud?”
“No,” says Maud emphatically. “Does that matter?”
As she’s speak
ing, she lets them both into the building and they disappear. I exhale slowly, my thoughts even more mixed up than before. It’s impossible. It’s unreal. What’s going on?
And suddenly I can’t sit here anymore, a spectator on my own life. With trembling legs, I get up and venture toward Nell’s door. Her keys are in my bag, as they always are. I let myself into the main lobby, then approach Nell’s flat. My stomach is screwed up with nerves. I’ve never felt so apprehensive about seeing my friends in my life.
My hand is actually shaking as I put the key to the lock, but I turn it, step inside, and hear a roar of laughter from the sitting room.
“No way!” I hear Sarika exclaim, and I feel another jolt. Is everyone here? “OK, Sam says he’ll be half an hour. I’ll just get some more wine….”
She appears in the hall and sees me, and for a moment I think she might pass out.
“Ava?” she whispers. “Ava? Ava!” Her voice suddenly rips up to a scream. “Ava’s back!”
It’s pandemonium. Nell’s hall isn’t huge, but within ten seconds it’s full of people. Sarika is first to hug me, and then Maud is squeezing me tight. I emerge from their huddle to see Nell standing there, using her cane, her face happier than I’ve ever seen it, and we sink into each other’s arms while Nihal says shyly, “Welcome back,” and Topher adds, “Excellent entrance, Ava. Excellent.”
And then there’s just Matt. Holding back from the melee, a few feet away. His eyes are dark and questioning. But I don’t know what the question is. I don’t know.
My throat has closed up and I can barely meet his gaze, but I say, “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He comes forward and reaches out a hand to touch mine briefly. “Hi.”
“I don’t…” I swivel around to take in everyone. “I don’t get it. I don’t get this.”
“Poor Ava.” Sarika laughs. “Come on, my love. Have a drink. We’ll explain.”
* * *
—
Of course, it’s all very simple. Matt and I split up, but our friends didn’t. Our lives didn’t.
We all gather in Nell’s sitting room with drinks and snacks. Then I sip my wine, trying to listen to everyone at once and to piece together the story.
“So, when you broke up,” Sarika begins, “we were like, ‘Oh no,’ because we liked one another. But we didn’t get together straightaway. Except Nell and Topher—they were in touch the whole time.”
“We had arguments to finish,” says Nell, glowering good-humoredly at Topher.
“Still do,” Topher agrees, nodding.
“But the time when we really all got together was…” Maud hesitates, darting me a quick look. “When Nell went into hospital again.”
“Hospital?” I interject, feeling a cold chunk of dread. “What’s been going on? You didn’t mention any of this.”
“We weren’t allowed to,” Maud puts in quickly. “Ava, I wanted to. I really did. But Nell reckoned you would fly home. So we had to keep schtum.”
“If you’d said a word, I would have had you assassinated,” Nell growls.
“I know,” says Maud regretfully. “You would. My children would have been motherless. So we didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?” I look from face to face. “What?”
“Just another surgery. Intestine. No big deal. No big deal,” Nell repeats firmly, as I draw breath to demand more details.
“Anyway, the guys were great. Topher stayed up all night—”
“Couldn’t get rid of him,” says Nell, with an eye roll. “Cluttering up the bloody hospital the whole time.”
“I was playing online poker, so I was up anyway,” says Topher with a shrug. “And who doesn’t enjoy listening to Nell swear at nurses?” He touches her hand, with a look so fond that I blink in surprise. Is he…? Are they…?
“Then, when Nell got out of hospital, Nihal was absolutely brilliant,” says Maud, giving him a dazzling smile. “He should get the Nobel Prize. He said, ‘Nell, sweetie, what you need in your life is robots!’ ”
“Robots?” I echo, baffled.
“I saw a possible function for robot usage,” Nihal explains in his usual measured manner. “I suggested a number of ways in which we might facilitate Nell’s everyday operations.”
“Look!” Maud moves off her seat, pointing to something behind her—and for the first time I see the robot arm by Nell’s side. It’s mounted on a stand and is holding an iPad with a super-long stylus clipped to it.
“It’s changed my life,” says Nell, and Nihal instantly looks abashed.
“They’re all over the house,” says Maud, as proudly as though she’d invented the robots herself. “There’s one in Nell’s bedroom, and one in the kitchen….Oh, look! There you go!”
A robot is approaching us over the wooden floor, just like the snack robot but holding Nell’s medicine bottles instead. It’s so simple and brilliant that I’m silenced. Because I’m remembering what I said to Matt about Nihal’s geeky hobby—and now all I can feel is shame. He’s a genius.
“What I’d really like to develop is an ocular motor control system,” says Nihal thoughtfully, surveying Nell over his beer glass.
“What’s that?” says Maud excitedly. “Is it a bionic arm?”
“You’re not turning me into a bloody cyborg,” Nell warns.
“Oh, go on, have a bionic arm,” says Maud. “Go on, Nell.”
“Yes, go on, Nell,” says Sarika. “Don’t be a spoilsport.” She winks at me, and I feel a bubble of intense happiness. I’ve missed these guys so much.
“So, I take it you’re still with Sam?” I ask her.
“Moving into his place next week,” says Sarika, a smile spreading across her face.
“That’s amazing! And where does he live again?” I can’t resist asking innocently. “It’s pretty near the tube, isn’t it?”
“Fairly near,” says Sarika, avoiding my gaze. “It’s…I mean, I walk pretty quickly. And sometimes I cycle. So. It’s ten minutes max.”
“Ten minutes if you’re on a motorbike,” says Nell sardonically, and Maud explodes with laughter.
“OK, it’s miles away,” says Sarika, suddenly caving in. “It’s bloody miles from the tube. But I don’t care. I just want to be with him!”
She looks so happy, I feel a tiny wistful tweak in my heart. There we are again. It can work out. You just have to have faith.
“And so now we need to know, Ava,” says Nell. “It’s nearly killed me not asking you, but…the book?”
I let a tiny pause elapse, then say triumphantly, “I finished it!” There’s an explosion of whooping and Maud high-fives me, her face lit up with delight. “And an agent likes it,” I add, still feeling a pinprick of disbelief as I say the words. “She…she wants to represent me.”
Felicity read the rest of my memoir while I was packing to leave Italy. She said she can’t make any promises, but she thinks Harold’s story will make it into bookshops. My beloved Harold, in a real book!
Nell reaches forward to put her mottled hand on mine, her eyes shimmering.
“There,” she says, her voice a little choked. “There. Knew you could do it.” She grins, and I grin back, and I know we’re both remembering the conversation we had in this house, months ago.
And as we’re sitting there, hands clasped, I study Nell’s face for clues. Because I have to know. That sparky, affectionate vibe between Nell and Topher is…It’s real. Surely?
“Nell,” I say, sotto voce. “Tell me something. Are you and Topher…a couple?”
“No,” says Nell at once, withdrawing her hand as though in protest. “Jesus! No.”
“Yes, we are,” says Topher, listening in to our conversation.
“No, we’re not.”
“Well, I think we are. Sarika, are we a couple?”
“Of course you are!” says Maud passionately. “You’re a lovely couple!”
“Maud, you’re insane,” says Nell, but she turns a little pink and shoots a quick look at Topher.
“Thank you for your support, Maud,” says Topher gravely. “It will be remembered.” Then he turns to me, his face crinkled in amusement. “To answer your question, we’re in negotiations, I guess. More wine?”
I shake my head and take a sip, smiling at them both, just absorbing the atmosphere. The feeling of being home again, back with my friends. Everything’s moved on but in a good way.
“How’s Harold?” comes a deep voice behind me, making me start. I swivel to see Matt, sitting a few feet away, cradling a glass of wine. He hasn’t joined in the uproarious conversation or said much at all since I arrived.
I mean, I get it. It’s weird. And a bit painful. But here we are, and we can’t ignore each other.
“He’s really well, thanks,” I say.
“Good.” Matt nods. “Say hello from me. And well done on your book.”
“I finished it,” I say, because I want to hear the words out loud again, in front of him. “I finished something.” I swallow. “So.”
“Yes.” His eyes are warm. “It’s brilliant.”
“And you’ve left Harriet’s House?” I add, trying to make polite conversation. At once Matt’s expression shifts to an unreadable place.
“Ah,” he says after a pause. “You know about that.”
“Yes. I saw it online. But I don’t know what you’re doing now.”
“Working with Topher.” His face expands into a smile. “Partner, in fact.”
“Oh, Matt!”
“I know. It’s pretty good.”
He looks so thrilled, I can’t help leaning forward to give him an impulsive hug—then instantly withdraw, mortified.
Love Your Life Page 31