Clara was quieter than usual. It was still sinking in that I was leaving. She referred to me as her work wife, and as we saw each other most days, she would be more affected day to day, by my absence.
As we piled into the tapas restaurant, even louder than usual thanks to the alcohol on empty tummies, she sat next to me at the table and took my hand loosely.
‘I can’t actually believe you’re really going to go.’ A sadness shone in her darkening eyes.
‘Neither can I. A couple of months ago I would have never dreamt it a possibility. But it feels right though, you know? For once in my life, I’m just going to go with it.’
She nodded, but I could see she wasn’t a hundred per cent with me.
‘We’ll do the Wednesday Wine Club on FaceTime,’ I promised.
‘It won’t be the same,’ she said, glumly. The gin and tonic had made her sombre.
‘You’re right, love. It won’t be the same. But it’s all we’ve got, so we will do it. And you can come to Ireland, you’ll absolutely love it, I promise. And I’ll come home all the time.’
Instead of reassuring her as I had intended, Clara looked more worried, almost borderline panicked. Her eyes flitted from Katie, to Ruth, to mine at a rapid rate. Something was wrong clearly, but my senses were dull from the Prosecco.
I noticed the problem, just as the problem noticed us.
Rob had arrived at the restaurant with a new woman in tow.
I hadn’t seen him or even spoken to him in weeks. He looked well, wearing jeans and a white shirt that someone had clearly ironed for him.
His date was pretty. I tried not to look, not because I cared. I honestly felt nothing, not a single thing; I was completely indifferent to the situation, more concerned about Rob seeing me with John. Although there were five of us at our table, he knew Clara’s fiancé, Ruth’s fiancé and Katie’s husband so that just left one anomaly.
Silence descended upon the girls, a silence John couldn’t miss.
I raised my glass of wine to Rob and his new woman. ‘Cheers,’ I mouthed across four tables.
In fairness, he looked as horrified and awkward as I felt. He nodded abruptly, lifted the menu up to half cover his face and began to talk animatedly to his date. He seemed to be holding a conversation with her – more than he’d ever done with me.
‘Awkward,’ Clara said. I winced, not wishing to draw further attention to the situation in front of John. The last thing I wanted was for him to think was that I cared.
‘Seriously girls, I don’t care. It’s actually a relief. I’m happy for them. It’s just a shame they’re in our restaurant.’ I grabbed John’s leg under the table, and he put his hand over mine, taking everything in, but not uttering a word.
I had lived with that man for seven years. I knew how he liked his tea: black with half a sugar. I’d been to America with him seven times, met every single member of his family on numerous occasions. But looking at him across the restaurant, I felt absolutely and utterly zero emotion. Did that make me a coldhearted bitch, or did it simply confirm the decision to part had been the right one? I didn’t know.
Rob left with the brunette immediately after eating, clearly as uncomfortable as me. He didn’t look our way again and left without acknowledgement. I breathed a sigh of relief, as John whispered in my ear, ‘Are you okay, girl?’
‘One hundred per cent okay, thanks,’ I reassured him. So much for the anonymity of the city. Skeletons lurked in every walk of life, apparently.
‘Phew,’ Katie said. ‘That was awkward.’
‘It is what it is.’ I was keen to sweep it under the carpet as soon as possible.
‘Who do you think the new squeeze is?’ Clara said, topping up my glass to the brim.
‘Who cares?’ I reminded them, and they took the hint. All attention returned to John, much to his despair. After the skinful of drinks, the girls weren’t even trying to be subtle in their interrogation anymore.
I cringed as Ruth asked John what his intentions for me were. He brushed her off skilfully, with his usual deflective humour making her laugh, distracting everyone as he had intended.
As we left the restaurant and bid the girls goodnight with multiple hugs, kisses and promises of texts when everyone got home, John took my hand and we walked slowly back to the hotel, via my car in order to collect our weekend bags.
The night was crisp, clear and cold. It was fabulous to be able to appreciate the glittering stars above us. My breath fogged in front of my face as I asked John what he thought of my friends.
‘By the way, just in case you wondered, that last question about my intentions…’ he began.
‘Sorry about that, Ruth’s just trying to look out for me.’
