‘So . . .’ Reuben said, sitting down too. ‘So here we are, hey?’ He took a breath, then closed his mouth, realizing he didn’t know what to say.
Kaia glanced at him and her face softened. That’s my look, I thought childishly. I’d look at him just like that when he lost his way, and he’d feel OK.
‘I’ve heard so much about you, Sarah,’ she said, turning back to me. She was wearing a long dress with a bold ikat pattern and an assortment of silver bracelets, and she was somehow more elegant than anyone else here. ‘And I know there’s a lot more to you than your outfit’ – was she reading my mind? – ‘but I have to say that’s a beautiful skirt you’re wearing.’
I smoothed it down. It was one of my nicer ones, actually, but I felt rather self-conscious in it today. Like it was non-uniform day and I’d tried too hard .
‘Thank you,’ I said. I tried and failed to think of something to say that proved there was more to me than that.
Kaia got out her wallet. ‘I’m going to go get us some drinks. What would you like?’
‘Oh, that’s kind.’ I checked my watch and was disappointed to see that it wasn’t yet midday. Reluctantly, I ordered a lime and soda.
She slid out of her seat and Reuben got up, too. ‘I’ll help!’
‘I’ve got this,’ Kaia said. ‘You two go ahead and catch up.’
But Reuben insisted and I found myself alone at the table.
This is it , I thought, wiping my forehead with a napkin. This is my future. Running a business with my ex-husband, who’s now dating a yogi. One of the really nice ones. I watched them walk to the bar. Reuben slipped an arm around her waist and then turned guiltily to check I hadn’t seen.
This is my future.
He had come into the office six weeks after we split up, ostensibly on the verge of an anxiety attack. ‘You OK?’ I’d asked him, watching over my computer as he crashed around in one of the props cupboards.
He spun round, eyes wild. ‘I’ve met someone,’ he blurted, cowering in the doorway of the cupboard.
A large bag of red noses fell off the shelf behind him and he picked it up, hugging it to his chest. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I did not plan this.’
He came towards me like a bomb-disposal technician approaching a device, his face frantically searching mine. A little trail of noses was falling on the floor alongside him, but he didn’t notice.
‘I feel so bad to be telling you this so soon after our break-up,’ he’d said. ‘Do you need to sit down?’
I pointed out that I already was.
It had stunned me how little I’d felt. It was odd, certainly, but I found myself more curious than jealous. Reuben was dating! My Roo! ‘Are you sure you want to know?’ he kept asking.
I’d managed only to ascertain that Kaia worked part time in a juice bar in Glendale, that she was a yoga teacher and trainee naturopath, and that Reuben was totally gone.
I watched her order drinks. She wasn’t beautiful, in an obvious, western sense, which in a way made it worse. She just glowed, in a slow-cooked, wholesome way. And she was good, I sensed. Kind and Good, in sharp contrast to my Manic and Dark. Reuben pressed down the tip of her nose and laughed. He used to do that with me.
This would have been much easier , I thought churlishly, if Eddie and I had worked out. Even if Reuben got down on one knee and proposed to Kaia, right here in the bar, I’d have cheered and clapped and probably offered to organize their bloody wedding.
If Eddie had called.
My stomach pitted miserably and I checked my phone, as if that would help anything.
Then I froze.
Was that . . . ? Was it . . . ?
A speech bubble. A little grey speech bubble, which meant Eddie – real, living, breathing Eddie, somewhere in the world – was typing a reply to my messages. I sat perfectly still, watching the bubble, and the South Bank faded to zero.
‘It’s so lovely to be in London,’ Kaia said, arriving back with my drink. No! Go away! ‘I’d forgotten how much I love this city.’ I glanced down. The bubble was still there. He was still writing. I tingled. Terror, delight. Terror, delight. I made myself smile at Kaia. She was wearing one of those rings that sits halfway up your finger. I’d bought one, years ago, and it had fallen down a public toilet on El Matador Beach .
‘You know London, then?’ I made myself ask.
The speech bubble was still there.
‘I came here a couple of times on assignments,’ she replied. ‘I was a journalist, in another life.’
She shuddered lightly and I waited, hoping she’d continue. I had literally nothing to say.
(This! This was one of those moments I’d talked about with Mrs Rushby. Total loss of self. Of manners, sociability, control.)
Speech bubble: still there.
‘But I realized I wasn’t really enjoying my life.’ She paused, remembering the time when she didn’t really enjoy her life. ‘So I drilled down to what I cared about, and that was nutrition, being outdoors, keeping my body peaceful and strong. I jumped out of the fast lane and did my yoga teacher training. It was one of the best things I ever did.’
‘Oh great!’ I said. ‘Namaste to that!’
Kaia took Reuben’s hand underneath the table. ‘But then I suffered a major trauma two years ago and that’s when the more profound change happened . . .’
Speech bubble: still there.
‘And I realized, when I began to emerge from it all, that it wasn’t enough to be true to myself and my needs. I had to look wider; I had to help others. Give freely of myself, if that doesn’t sound too pious.’
Her cheeks brightened. ‘Oh my God, I sound totally pious,’ she laughed, and I remembered that this was no easier for her than it was for me.
Reuben looked at her as if the mother of Christ sat on the bench next to him. ‘I don’t think you sounded pious at all,’ he said. ‘Does she, Sarah?’
I put my phone down for a moment and stared at him. Was he seriously asking me to make his new girlfriend feel better about herself?
‘So, long story short, I signed up as an associate at the Children’s Hospital,’ she said hurriedly. She wanted to stop talking about herself now. ‘One of the fundraisers. I do at least a day a week for them, often more. And that’s me, really.’
‘I have a lot of time for the CHLA fundraisers,’ I said, glad to at last have common ground. ‘Wonderful people, and very good friends of our charity. I guess that’s how you two met, then?’
Kaia looked at Reuben, who nodded uncertainly. It’s fine , I wanted to tell him. I’m jealous of your girlfriend, yes, but only because she seems to have got her act together. Not because I still want you, darling boy.
The awful thing about this, I thought, picking up my phone again (speech bubble: still there), was that I had probably fallen more profoundly for Eddie – whom I’d known seven days – than I had Reuben, to whom I’d been married seventeen years. It was me who should be feeling guilty, not Roo.
I turned my phone face down on the table while I waited for Eddie’s message to arrive, and a terrified euphoria blew over me. The wait was over. In a matter of minutes I’d know.
Reuben clearly had no idea what to add to this exchange, in spite of years in a job that had taught him to communicate in near-impossible circumstances. After a few unconvincing coughs he started talking about the fact that you couldn’t taste chlorine in the tap water over here, or some other such nonsense.
My phone vibrated and I snatched at it. At last. At last.
But it was a text message from Dad. Darling, if you haven’t yet left for Gloucestershire yet, don’t. Your grandfather’s been sacked by his brand-new carers. We’ve given up and are taking him down to ours to care for him ourselves. We’ll put him in Hannah’s old room. Please don’t cancel your trip down to see us. We love you (and need you . . .). But if you could delay until tomorrow, we’d be very grateful. DAD x
I went straight back to my Messenger, oblivious to Reuben, Kaia, everyone.
There was no message. Eddie was still online, but the speech bubble had disappeared.