Then all of a sudden, another voice cut through the sound of her own. Eleanor tried to shake it out of her, but her brain was forcing her back to a time and place she didn’t want to revisit.
‘I don’t know why people continue with hobbies they aren’t good at,’ Oliver’s voice boomed down the table. His face was blotchy and his lips were stained a menacing purple from the red wine.
‘What do you mean?’ one of the dinner party guests, who Eleanor hadn’t yet been introduced to, asked.
‘In my opinion, if you’re not good at it or not going to make money from it, then why bother?’ he drawled. ‘It’s likeEleanor. She paints and paints and paints non-stop. Why?! She’s not going to sell any of them. What’s the point in having stacks of pictures that no one’s going to look at taking up space in our house! She doesn’t listen to me, though. Do you, Eleanor? She says until we have a baby, what else is that room being used for?’ He looked up and caught her eye. ‘Ihaven’t told her about my idea for a gym yet, though.’ He threw his head back and laughed.
Eleanor felt her eyes prick hot with tears. She willed herself back to the present moment, focusing her senses on the smell of incense mixed with old plimsoles. The sing-song feedback from Agatha as she made her way around the group. The solid chair beneath her.
I can’t do this.
She snapped her eyes open and was about to run when she felt the air shift slightly next to her. She turned her head and saw Reggie leaning over.
‘It’s only a bowl of fruit, kid.’ He nodded towards the centre of the room. ‘And let’s be honest, how badly can you fuck up an orange?’ His dark blue eyes glittered wickedly.
A lightness fell over her, settling her roaring anxiety.
‘I’ll show you.’ She laughed, picking up her pencil and sketching the first outline on to her page.
Fin
Fin had been a little nervous when he’d messaged Eleanor, asking if she wanted to grab a coffee with him. Since the dinner party at Sal’s they’d barely spoken, and although the frosty awkwardness of their initial interactions had gone, he wasn’t sure they were on ‘catching up over lattes’ terms yet. But he knew this was more important than potential awkward silences. If he was going to pull off Heidi’s request, he could not do it alone.
It will be fine. The worst she can say is no.
And then what are you going to do?
Fin slumped down further in the worn-out armchair. He’d already downed one coffee and he could feel the caffeine pumping energy waves through his veins. How many people had laid their heads here? How many difficult conversations, work meetings and salacious gossiping sessions had this chair witnessed? Were the words woven into the very threads of its brown cloth? What he wouldn’t give to hear what this chair knew.
A vibration in his pocket stirred him from his thoughts.
Incoming Call: Rob.
Shit.
Fin braced himself and answered.
‘Oh, hello?’ Rob’s voice was thick with irony. ‘Is that Fin? My old best friend? The man who used to speak to me before he disappeared off to his new life in London and forgot all about his friends on the other side of the world?’
Fin winced. ‘Yes, speaking?’
He knew he’d dropped off the radar, but between his visits to his mother and planning for his shoot with Heidi, the days had simply seemed to vanish. At times, his old life in America felt like it belonged to somebody else. Another version of Fin who wasn’t bogged down with dying mothers and unwanted ghosts from the past. The laughter that erupted from Rob instantly melted all of Fin’s unease.
‘I’m sorry,’ he started. ‘It’s just be—’
‘Nah, buddy, it’s fine, I was only messing. I know you have a lot going on. How is it over there? Skin dried up from lack of sun?’
Fin admired his paler skin in the watery excuse for sunlight. ‘Yeah, looking pretty pasty, I’m not going to lie.’
Rob snorted. ‘At least it means we’ll all have a chance with the ladies for a bit when you come home.’
Fin raised his eyebrow. ‘Dare I ask what happened with your blind date then?’
Rob let out a long, slow breath. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t know what?’ Fin checked the time. He reckoned he had five minutes before Eleanor appeared, and knowing Rob’s storytelling, five minutes wouldn’t even scratch the surface.
‘It’s hard, isn’t it? Knowing what the hell goes on in their heads.’
