‘What, so just because one bad thing happened to one person this one time, now I’m never allowed to get public transport again?’
‘Maybe your dad can take you.’
‘Sure,’ her dad pipes up. ‘I can—’
‘But Bath issafe.It’s, like, known for it. It’s not like I’m asking to head to a drug den in the middle of Leeds or something.’ Lissa’s lips twitch, but she stops herself from smiling. Elsie seems to sense it, though, and glances in her direction. ‘It’s safe, isn’t it, Lissa?’
‘I suppose it is considered pretty safe,’ Lissa hedges.
‘See!’ Elsie gestures emphatically. ‘Lissa agrees with me.’
‘Ah …’ She’s not quite sure how she’s been pulled into the opposing team here – probably not a very safe place to be.
‘We’ll discuss it later,’ Nicole says firmly.
Elsie huffs and crosses her arms in protest, shrugging off the hand that Lissa’s dad puts on her shoulder. ‘We’re just looking out for you, Else.’
Elsie deliberately looks the other way.
‘So,’ her dad says, his tone full of faux brightness, ‘I was thinking we could invite both neighbours round for dinner at some point in the next couple of weeks.’
‘Lovely idea,’ Nicole says. ‘How about we …’
Lissa allows her mind to drift while her stepmum embarks on a list of various suggestions of what they might cook for the neighbours. Music plays softly in the background – some sort of classical playlist Nicole put on to accompany dinner. Her scented candles still burn around the dining room as the evening light outside fades. The scrape of Elsie’s fork on her plate merges with other sounds – the clinking of glasses, laughter, a different sort of music playing in the background, with a husky voice singing in French.
They are sitting in a restaurant, flickering candlelight reflected in his eyes. There are empty plates in front of them, waiting to be cleared. The meal cost more than she could afford on her teaching salary, but he insisted on paying. Beneath the table, their knees almost touch.
‘I wish you didn’t have to leave,’ she says on a sigh, picking up her nearly empty wine glass and twirling the stem between her thumb and forefinger.
‘I know, I’m sorry.’ She loves the sound of his voice, soft and lyrical even when he’s saying things she doesn’t want to hear. ‘I’ll take you to the film premiere, I promise.’
She shakes her head. Because yes, it would be something special to go to a premiere – to go shopping for something fabulous to wear, and sit there next to the film composer himself. To listen to the music he’d chosen for each scene and wonder what he’d been thinking when he did so. She wants that – the insight into his world. But more than that, she wants him. And she can’t have him when he’s away for work. More than that, she can’t have him if he chooses to go to America to chase the big league and work in cinema out there, as he so often talks of doing.
‘Have you given any more thought to applying for art school?’ he asks. She wonders if it’s deliberate, the change of subject. Still, she sighs and shakes her head again.
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
She rolls her eyes, an attempt to bring playfulness back to the evening. ‘You know why.’
He leans forward to take her free hand over the table, twining his fingers with hers. She feels her pulse hitch as his thumb circles a path on her wrist. She knows he’s going to push her on it. Because although she’s tried to explain the situation with her family, with her parents, she doesn’t know if he fully understands. He’d understand more if he met her mother, maybe, but she’d rather avoid scaring him away just yet.
‘What do you think, Lissa?’
She blinks. She’s holding the stem of her wine glass, twirling it between her thumb and forefinger. For a moment the two scenes blur. She can feel his knee pressing into hers as they draw closer. Can hear the chatter and laughter of the restaurant humming around her, can feel the echo of his touch on her skin. Then her dad’s face comes into focus, peering over at her.
She puts her glass down. ‘Hmm?’
‘About putting a sculpture in the back garden.’
Clearly the conversation has moved on from appropriate food to give the neighbours – or is the sculpture being put there to impress said neighbours? ‘Oh, umm … A sculpture, that’s … hmm. Like a big marble naked man or something?’ She’s trying to think of sculptures she’s seen in gardens before, and that, apparently, is all she can come up with. Some artist she is.
Elsie snort-laughs and her dad exchanges a look with Nicole, like she is a second teenager in the house. After that, she tries to stay present – it’s the least she can do, given how little she sees them. But all the while, there is a part of her brain trying to pull her back to that restaurant in post-war Paris.
It’s the echo of a dream. That’s all, surely. A yearning of her subconscious to be somewhere else, somewhere with more glamour, more romance.
But if that’s the case, how is she able to conjure up such specific detail? And why does it not feel like a dream at all, but a memory?
