Well, I’m glad.
Anis and Brett are still pissed at you.
Well, I deserve that. And the others?
Do you mean James?
Maybe.
Is he still around? I’m coming up.
The doorbell interrupts us and I realize I’m absolutely starving, so I press the buzzer and wait by the door for the Uber Eats guy. He hands over the piping-hot box and, as he heads back to the lift, I shut the door and feel a little sense of delight at snuggling down to a feast for one.
There is a sharp rap on the door, and I guess the Uber Eats guy has forgotten something – either that or the neighbours want to complain about the sound of the TV again – but when I fling it open, it’s him. It’s James.
He smiles and his cheeks flush red.
‘The driver guy, he let me in. I should have buzzed, sorry.’
He looks different. His hair is longer, and his face is paler than when I left.
‘James, hi, my God,’ I say, feeling my heart start to quicken.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t call or write, or warn you in any way. It just seemed easier this way,’ he says. ‘And I was coming through London, and Heather told me how to get here, so …’
‘I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me.’
‘Can I come in?’
I drop my eyes to the floor and step to the side to make way. ‘Of course.’
He looks like he’s just come back from a walk around the loch, windswept and relaxed. He must have turned a few heads on the Tube with his green waxed sheepskin-lined coat and his big hiking boots.
‘Come in, sit down.’ I indicate the sofa.
‘It’s a nice place,’ he says, looking round the apartment. ‘It’s weird thinking my dad left Heather money for this, but didn’t want to know me.’
I realize that in all of this I hadn’t thought enough about how Heather’s news would affect James. For some reason I only focused on Heather’s feelings. ‘Are you okay? How do you feel about it all?’
‘It’s mostly great. I like Heather. She reminds me heaps of Mum, and it feels like I’ve known her for ever. But it’s hard not to think of Dad when I look at her. Not that I ever knew him. Thinking of my dad is basically picturing that one photo, with a bunch of fantasies attached to it.’
‘That photo …’
‘You didn’t recognize him?’ he says, turning to me, his eyes narrowing a little.
‘No. It felt familiar, but without a context I couldn’t place it. I thought he reminded me of you. And he died when Heather and I were still kids. I mean, I hardly knew him really. Just that he was different from my parents. Older. Much older, and kind of refined and worldly – because of the wine business, I guess.’
‘Right,’ he says, nodding, like that’s one thing checked off his list.
‘Do you want some pizza?’ James standing there is making me nervous. I want to know how long he’s here for. Where is he going? What can I do to make him stay? But as my chest begins to tighten, I try to remember to breathe andlet go.
Mercifully he sits down and flicks open the box of pizza.
‘I’ve got some beers?’ I say.
‘That would be great,’ he replies.
I head to the fridge and pull out two, then flick the tops off using the side of Heather’s kitchen counter, before reminding myself I need to be more caring of her things. I hand a beer to James and cringe at my bitten fingernails, painted a silly pea-green, and quickly hide my hands under the table.
