I resist sayingit didn’t, and look out of the window, at the swifts swooping through the summer stillness. They nest in the pantiles of Polly’s roof every year. I adore their trapeze-artist flight, the twisting whistle of their call. Polly says they will be leaving soon for Africa, and I know how empty the air will feel without them.
‘It’s been good to get some space,’ I say.
I see Josh’s expression lighten, just a fraction.
‘Being with the kids, and Poll and Darren... it’s made me realise what’s important.’ I am forcing the words out, putting weight behind them, because they do not come easily. ‘You chose self-preservation that day, Josh. And I’m doing the same. I sometimes wonder if I’m being selfish, but... I have to do what’s right for me now. Just as you had to do what was right for you.’
He leans forward, rests his elbows on his thighs, rubs a hand through his hair. ‘So this is about getting even?’
I let out a flinching breath. ‘I know you don’t believe that.’
‘No. Sorry,’ he says softly, quickly.
A moment passes, during which Josh stares down at his hands, his wedding ring, as if taking in for a final time the proof of my once having loved him.
‘I didn’t want to see it,’ he says eventually.
‘You didn’t want to see what?’
He lets out a fragmented breath. ‘Before I came here, I told myself that if you looked happy today – if it genuinely seemed like you’d made the right call – then I would walk away.’
I turn my gaze to the floor, my toes scrunched into Polly’s carpet.
‘And much as it kills me to admit it... you do. You look like your old self again, Rach.’ His voice cracks and fissures. ‘So maybe time away from me has been a good thing, for you.’
I do not look up, because I cannot bear to watch him absorb the fact of it.
‘I should go.’ He gets to his feet. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
SECTION II
26.
Rachel
May 2002
Ingrid has surprised us all by falling in love. His name is Sean, and they met a few months ago, at a networking event for entrepreneurs. He’s just sold the company he set up in his teens, which was something to do with the ethical importation of coffee beans. He’s pretty great: attentive and fun-loving, unwaveringly kind, and excited by her many ambitions.
Ingrid tells me Sean has a good friend who’s interested in meeting me.
‘Absolutely not.’
‘Come on. Why not? This guy’s mint, I promise. He sells diamonds.’
I widen my eyes at Polly, who smiles. ‘Oh, great. He doesn’t sound dodgy at all.’
Ingrid throws a handful of peanuts into her mouth, seeing off a fly with a flattened palm. It’s hot today, and our first beer garden session of the year. ‘Not out of a van. He’s a proper dealer. His family are jewellers. He has his own shop, in Hatton Garden. Come on. One date. What have you got to lose?’
‘I just don’t feel ready,’ I insist.
‘Look, in the nicest possible way,’ Ingrid says, as delicately as she knows how, ‘I’m sure Josh will have been getting back on the horse.’
‘Please, stop with the bloody horse.’ Beneath the table I slip off my sandals, press my feet into the warm grass.
‘Don’t worry,’ Polly says sympathetically. ‘It’s not like it’s a competition between you and Josh.’
‘Why?’ I look at her, then at Ingrid. ‘Has Josh met someone?’
