‘Stay there a moment, sweetheart,’ I murmur to Blake, then move swiftly into the hall, tugging the living-room door shut behind me.
The hammering – and shouting – is growing louder.
Darren gets to him first. ‘Come on, mate,’ I hear him say, from out on the front step. ‘You’re upsetting the kids.’
I almost want to smile. Blake barely noticed the noise, so absorbed was he in the scrapes and adventures of the eleven-year-old rebel schoolboy we’d been reading about.
‘You’re all red in the face,’ Darren says to Josh. ‘You’re usually the calm one.’
‘I just want to talk to her. It’s been a month. Please, Ineedto talk to her.’
‘She asked for space,’ Darren says, but I can hear the apology in his voice.
Darren is right: I have needed space. And Istillneed it, because I know proximity to Josh would be like tugging on the thread that’s holding all my doubts and second-guesses togetherright now. How easy it would be, to unravel every argument I’ve made for us to stay apart.
But still. It doesn’t feel fair, forcing our friends into mediating.
I take a few steps forward, put a hand on Darren’s shoulder. ‘It’s okay.’
Quietly Darren nods and retreats, and I meet my husband’s eye for the first time in weeks.
I am not prepared for what it does to me. How even the pull of a thread can cut like a blade.
‘You’d better come in,’ is all I say.
Darren takes Blake upstairs, so Josh and I can talk in the living room undisturbed.
It’s a hot, breezeless day. Josh is bare-armed in a T-shirt, the face of the watch I gave him sparking in the sunlight. Through the open window, the air smells sweet, perfumed by the roses smothering the back of Polly’s house.
‘You... okay?’ he asks me haltingly. ‘Do you need anything from the flat?’
I hate this, the awkwardness that exists between us now which we cannot seem to shift.I have kissed every part of you, I think. Yet here we are – two strangers sitting stiffly in a room, unsmiling on opposite sofas, maintaining a prudent distance, asking polite, pointless questions.How the hell did we get here?
I imagine, just for a moment, changing my mind. Disregarding our failed future, sidestepping our quicksand past. Going in to kiss him again, the easiest, sweetest intimacy. I have missed it so much. Josh pushing his hands through my hair, freeing my face. My blood flaming and stomach somersaulting, our want for each other unstoppable.
Fleetingly his gaze meets mine, and I wonder with a drumming heart if he is thinking the same.
But then he clears his throat and says, ‘Sorry about the...’ He raises a fist, mimes banging on the front door.
I shake my head. For this, at least, he doesn’t need to apologise. ‘It’s all right. I know I kind of... vanished, for a while. I just thought it would be best if we had some proper distance. It felt like we both needed the head space.’
He nods. ‘I know. It’s given me a lot of time to think, and... I’m angry, Rach. With myself, I mean. I’m angry – and I’m sorry – that I took that pill without telling you. That I disrespected you like that. I’m sorry for not leaning on you more. Because I know I could have done. You never once made me think I couldn’t. The opposite, actually. I wanted to call you, that night, and... I honestly still don’t know why I didn’t.’
I swallow, both grateful and sad that he has addressed – entirely unprompted – what has been bothering me so much, these past few weeks. Could I have done more? Did he take the pill because he felt he couldn’t talk to me? Is the culpability just as much mine?
Josh rests his gaze on me, dark eyes swimming with questions. ‘Rach,’ he says softly. ‘This was supposed to be a separation. Wasn’t it? But it’s starting to feel... pretty terminal.’
Perhaps he came here today hoping a month might have been enough. But what I have been beginning to realise is that, for us, time is no longer the tonic it once might have been.
‘If I’d known you were going to leave—’
‘What – you wouldn’t have taken it?’
‘Maybe not. I don’t know.’
My stomach turns to thistles. ‘It wasn’t up to me to give you that ultimatum, Josh.’
Briefly, he shuts his eyes. ‘I know. I know that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I guess I just wish... none of this had to happen.’
