Lenny’s face flushes. ‘There’s no need for all this awkwardness. Things change. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. We move in the same circles so it makes sense to at least be civilised.’
I shake my arm loose.
‘Okay. I get it. I’ve been a shit.’
‘At last some clarity,’ I say in a tight voice.
‘But we had grown apart. Perhaps I did us a favour, right? Our relationship could have stagnated for years before one of us was brave enough to make the break.’
‘So now you’re the hero? Oh, please.’ I shake my head.
‘Don’t be like that. I didn’t mean—’
‘How do you expect me to be?’ I snap. I could pretend not to care and make small talk but I miss him. I do. Before this evening, I’d googled how to cope with meeting your ex. I’m not always that good at dealing with the emotional side of things, like when Uncle Kevin… when he… sometimes it’s best just to carry on as if nothing has happened. I think back again to my online research. One website said to remain poised. Polite. Keep it short. I could just about manage that. But as for demonstrating that I’ve moved on, how was that possible? He was the one with a new address and relationship.
‘You’ll meet someone else. Someone who’s a better match than me.’
‘You mean someone loyal, with principles? Damn right, she will,’ says Farah, who’s appeared at my elbow. ‘You’ve got a nerve, turning up like this – with Bingham. Haven’t you got one ounce of decency?’
‘It’s okay, Farah,’ I say. ‘Just leave it. Please. I’m okay.’
Farah looks at me and I nod. She glares at Lenny and leaves.
‘Beatrix has a history. She might be using you. Just watch yourself,’ I say to Lenny quietly, annoyed that despite everything, I don’t want to see him hurt.
Lenny drains his glass and places it onto a passing tray. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. If you ever change your mind about being friends, I’m always—’
Beatrix reappears and takes his arm. She shoots me a pitying look. ‘Jealousy is such an unattractive quality.’ The two of them move away. I hurry out of the conference room and into the toilets. I lock the cubicle door and sit on the loo seat. A sob rises in my chest and I manage to suppress it. I take off my glasses. I don’t really understand how this has happened. Lenny and I were so happy.
Night after night I’ve sat on my sofa with Flossie and a book, but four weeks on and I still find myself staring into space. I miss the things that used to irritate me, like him leaving drawers open or never checking the date on food he purchased. Lenny would leave his socks on the floor and not tidy away dirty mugs. I never thought unwashed crockery could leave such a gap. If I’m honest, at the back of my mind, I’d seen a future with a wedding and children.
Now I just saw me in my flat with a cat and shelves of books. That used to be enough – more than that, great – until I met Lenny. They say you don’t miss what you haven’t had. The hardest part is you can’t go back.
I take several deep breaths, smooth down my jumper and put on my glasses again. As soon as I reappear at the party, Farah heads over and raises her thick brown eyebrows.
‘Irfan’s fuming,’ she says. ‘We can’t believe Lenny’s being so insensitive.’
‘I’m okay.’
‘Come around to dinner next week. Help me convince Irfan that quinoa doesn’t actually taste like soil.’
I wish my eyes weren’t drawn to Beatrix. Lenny can’t take his eyes off her. Nor can anyone else, including Gary, who’s never looked at me like that.
Across the room Lenny basks in Beatrix’s popularity. She catches my eye and kisses him full on the lips. Irfan goes to the front and shushes the crowd. He says a few words. I look for Gary, to give him some last minute encouragement, but it isn’t needed any more. He’s standing next to Beatrix and her hand rests on his shoulder. Gary’s face looks shiny as if she’s somehow polished it.
I about-turn and head up to the office to fetch my coat and bag. I fasten the multi-coloured buttons and pull my bobble hat out of my drawer. Even though the weather is warmer now, it feels like a comfort blanket.
Lenny has moved on. That’s very clear. Now I need to do the same.
Chapter 7
‘Gary’s here?’ I ask Irfan. Authors never just drop into the office. We always make appointments if a meeting is required and usually, if they have one like Gary does, they are accompanied by their agent.
Whilst Irfan goes downstairs to collect him, I put the coffee on to brew in the side room. Gary appears at the door, holding a soggy umbrella. April is proving its reputation for showers. He takes off his jacket to reveal a smart shirt. On the front pocket is a designer logo.
Irfan follows him in and shrugs at me before sitting in the chair to my right. Gary sits opposite. I pass him his usual coffee, milky with one sugar. Gary smiles and hands me a plant. He glances through the glass wall and waves at one of the young interns. I haven’t seen Gary since his signing and he seems to have acquired a degree of aplomb in those three weeks.
‘I couldn’t resist it,’ he says.
‘An African Violet?’ I smile at the purple flowers. ‘Thanks, that’s lovely. But what have I done to deserve this?’
Gary takes a sip of coffee and puts the mug on the table. He stretches out and puts his hands behind his head.
‘I don’t believe in getting anyone to do my dirty business, so I’ve come here alone to tell you both myself…’
Irfan leans forward. ‘Everything okay?’
‘First up, I just want to say how grateful I am to you two. It’s been quite a journey, this publishing lark, and you’ve both made me feel so at ease.’
This sounds like a goodbye. I don’t understand. We’ve just drawn up a second contract after talks with his agent.
‘It’s thrilling to work with you,’ I say.
‘Yes, the support we’re getting from retailers and the independents is fantastic,’ says Irfan.
We’ve invested a lot of our time in this author who needed instructing, from scratch, about keeping his writing tight and adding emotion, about marketing and social media platforms. Nothing pleases us more than seeing all that hard work pay off.
‘Thank you, but I won’t be re-signing.’ He takes another mouthful of coffee.
I take off my glasses. ‘Gary, we have big plans for you. Have you discussed this with your agent?’
‘It’s my decision,’ he says abruptly.
Irfan rubs a hand across his forehead. ‘I don’t understand. Your debut is doing so well. We saw this as just the beginning of a very successful career. Like Violet says, we’ve got the next two years mapped out with strategies to take your career forwards.’
‘And I really appreciate the opportunity you gave me when no one else would take a chance. However, I’ve decided to sign with Alpaca Books.’
I flinch. ‘Let’s talk about this. What can they offer that we can’t?’
‘I’ve met with Beatrix Bingham a couple of times – if you remember, she was at my launch.’
Irfan and I exchange glances.
‘She introduced me to Alpaca’s children’s fiction editor. Beatrix reckons within the year I could give up my day job.’
I’m speechless. So is Irfan for a second before he does his best sales pitch for Thoth. Poaching other publisher’s authors happens, but more discreetly than this – and not by making unsubstantiated promises. Children’s fiction isn’t even Beatrix’s area of expertise. As for Gary, Irfan and I have seen this before. A debut author has some success and develops a sense of entitlement that feeds their ego. They don’t understand that to grow and maintain a long-term career takes time and that one hit guarantees nothing.
When Gary leaves, Irfan heads for his desk, angry. For him, this means sharpening his pencils with vigour. I pick up the bin and brush the shavings into it as he calls Gary’s agent, who is equally unimpressed. Apart from anything else, he knows that his client’s naïve announcem
ent could deter me and Irfan from giving his debut the continued attention it needs.
I try to lose myself in another author’s edits for the afternoon and finally pack up my things at five. I turn off the screen and stare at the blank rectangle, immediately missing the distraction of the words and cursor. I’ve worked so closely with Gary. Bolstered his confidence where I could. Felt so proud as I’ve watched his writing and promotional skills grow. But just like that, he’s cut ties. Just like Lenny.
I put on a lilac anorak and try not to think about this anymore, that it might be because of something I do, or something about the way I am. The weather is warmer now despite the rain and I’ve finally discarded my bobble hat. I step out of the lift. I blush as Hugo wolf-whistles and mouth at him to be quiet. Hugo complimented my new trousers yesterday. I had to buy them because I’ve gone down a dress size. At lunch all I could manage was a couple of the low-fat samosas Irfan brought in. The trousers are more fitted than my usual style. It’s the first time I’ve ever worn anything that isn’t completely comfy. That’s why I’ve never been a fan of stockings, high shoes or underwire bras, but I had to do something as much of my old wardrobe is now too baggy.
I head outside and go over to Irfan and Farah who are still hanging around, despite leaving fifteen minutes earlier. I take a deep breath and wish I could walk straight past.
‘I was just thinking about my lunch,’ I say to Farah. ‘You’re such a good cook. The spices in those samosas are so subtle.’
She gives me a hug. ‘That must be Irfan’s excuse for eating the lot – they were supposed to last a couple of days.’ She stares. ‘How are you doing? It seems like ages since I saw you at the Bubbles launch. Have you been in contact with Lenny?’
Lenny. That word didn’t hurt quite so much as it did seven weeks ago. At first, similar words jumped out from everywhere I looked. Like the John Lennon album in the supermarket. The historical thriller a fellow editor was reading, featuring Lenin. Then there was the Lenny Kravitz concert poster stuck on the wall outside the train station.
‘No. I’ve unfriended him on Facebook, but photos mutual friends have taken come up on my newsfeed. It’s just as well I don’t go there very often.’
Farah raised her eyebrows.
‘They feature him and Beatrix out for meals or drinking or at publishing events.’
‘Glad I unfriended him too,’ she says.
‘And me,’ mumbles Irfan. He’s hardly said a word all afternoon.
‘We’ve been waiting – hoping you’ll come for coffee with us,’ says Farah and threads her arm though mine.
‘Please do,’ says Irfan. ‘I need help persuading Farah that there is no health scare big enough to warrant switching to soya milk.’
I manage a smile. ‘Sorry but I’ve got plans tonight.’
Farah holds me by the shoulders. It took me a while to get used to her way of touching people when she talks.
‘Does this mean… have you met someone else?’
‘Farah, please, mind your own business. Come on. Let’s leave Violet to get on with her evening.’ Irfan looks at me apologetically. ‘Now you know why our children chose universities as far away from London as possible.’
Farah gives me the thumbs up before punching her husband’s arm. Guilt pinches my chest as I walk towards the tube station. I didn’t exactly lie. I do have plans. They just don’t involve going out or romance. I’m starting a new book tonight. Then I will watch Charlotte’s Web. Children’s movies never fail to cheer me up. Tea will probably be a sandwich if I can face it. Last night Flossie and I shared a can of tuna, hers served in a bowl, mine on a slice of toast. I can only face the company of a cat at the moment.
Friday used to be pizza night if Lenny was in – his was a Meat Feast, mine a Margherita. We’d order potato wedges and garlic bread on the side. Afterwards Lenny would drink beer whilst I ate chocolate. Had he become bored with our routine? As I sit down on the train, I add this to the list of unanswered questions, although they are all asking the same thing: why wasn’t I good enough for him?
One hour later I’m at the front door of the block of flats I call home. Spits of rain hint at an oncoming downpour. Stormy clouds have assembled across the sky. It’s as if I’ve breathed them in and they’ve darkened my mood. I rummage in my handbag and can’t find my key. I’ve become good at losing things. First Lenny. Now Gary. Is this how it’s going to be? A doomed love life? A failed career? Just when I thought things were going so well.
I look up at the sky. The atmosphere feels weighted and close. It makes me want to scream, to run, so that somehow I can cut through it. Perhaps that’s the answer. Leaving my job. Leaving London. Starting again abroad. I could stay with Mum and Ryan. No one need know that I’m the woman who lost her boyfriend and most promising author to boot.
I sigh and shake myself. Kath wouldn’t approve of a pity party. I finally find the key right down at the bottom and slide it into the lock. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. It must be months, years since I last cried. I’m just about to push open the door when running footsteps approach from behind, accompanied by deep breaths. I turn to see a woman around my age bent over, hands on her knees, gasping. It’s almost like someone is chasing her. I glance over her shoulder but no one’s there. She straightens up, cheeks red, forehead perspiring, and looks at her watch. Her catwalk cheekbones contrast her casual jogging gear.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask as she goes onto the lawn and stares at the building before sitting on a bench. It’s positioned in front of a cherry blossom tree, next to a high wooden bird table that residents keep supplied with crumbs and seed.
‘What? Oh. Sorry. Did I startle you?’ Her face breaks into a smile.
‘Can I help you?’ I ask.
‘Not really. I should have rung whoever placed the ad first, but thanks anyway. I’ve come about a room in one of these flats. I thought I’d suss out the building first before ringing. I shouldn’t have worried. It’s a quiet, lovely area and this front garden is so pretty.’ The jogger gets up and walks over across the lawn edged with peonies and roses in blossom.
‘Actually, it’s me who placed the ad. I’m looking for a flatmate. Would you like to come up to take a look?’
‘Pleased to meet you.’ She gives a white smile. ‘I’m Bella.’
‘Violet.’
‘Well, if you’re sure it’s not inconvenient. I have a habit of calling on people at the worst moment. Like when Gran’s in the middle of putting on her tights or my brother has just plastered his face with shaving foam.’
I laugh. ‘No. My diary’s completely empty of late.’
She raises an eyebrow.
‘I recently broke up with my boyfriend.’ Why did I say that? Bella’s just got one of those faces that makes you want to tell the truth.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She pulls a sympathetic face. ‘That’s why the room is available?’
I nod and she follows me in and up the stairs.
‘Would you like me to take my shoes off?’ she asks as I open my flat’s door.
I think Bella and I will get on very well.
‘Would you mind? Thanks.’ I take her anorak and hang it on the coat stand. ‘I’ll just put the kettle on. Do you take sugar and milk?’
‘Could I just have a glass of water? I’m gasping after that run.’
When I come back, she is on the sofa tickling Flossie’s ears.
‘I see you’ve made friends with the most important member of the household.’
Chapter 8
I smile at Bella as she sips an unappealing juice that is brighter than the well maintained lawn outside. While I might aspire to improve my health, I prefer smaller steps, such as eating plants instead of drinking them.
‘Don’t worry. I haven’t made cocktails for two,’ Bella says and smiles as if she can read my mind.
I can’t believe she’s only been living here for three weeks. We already seem to know each other so well.
�
�Thanks goodness. It was traumatic enough binge-watching that old Love Island series with you over the weekend – it’s enough, at the moment, to have my taste in television challenged, thanks very much.’
She gives me a grin that exudes inclusiveness and understanding.
‘You enjoyed every minute. Don’t tell me you didn’t.’
She flashes her white teeth again and turns away to wash up before leaving for the spa where she works. That’s one of the many things I like about her – she constantly does the dishes, tidies and vacuums.
‘Want me to make chicken stir fry tonight?’ she asks.
‘That would be great. Thanks. And I’ll make the dairy-free rice pudding you showed me on that website for afterwards.’ Bella has introduced me to healthier cuisine. And no one’s more surprised than me to say I now do three runs a week. They are only short and I’m dripping with perspiration afterwards, but she promised the adrenaline high would make me feel so much better. Despite today’s aching limbs, she was right.
Hugo is baffled later on as I pass him on the way out of work.
‘Violet Vaughan,’ he calls, ‘what is your secret?’
Blushing, I head over.
‘Is there a special pill I can take to get your bright eyes and skin?’
‘I wish,’ I say and grimace. ‘It’s the result of several tortuous jogs.’
‘You? Running?’ Gym fan Hugo laughs. ‘Well, all I can say is that as time passes, it looks as if your life without Lenny is the best thing that could have happened.’
I’m still getting used to compliments about my appearance.
‘You know, Hugo, you could have been right about Beatrix. I should have listened.’
He puts down his pen. ‘You mean it’s not simply lust that’s brought Lenny and her together?’
Knowing You Page 5
