Anna stopped stirring, realizing she still wasn’t being entirely honest with her mother. There was a big part of the picture she was still skirting around – Brody. He was the catalyst for all this change.
For the first time since she’d started speaking to him, it felt strange – maybe even a little wrong – that she hadn’t shared this information with her mother. She stared at the chicken as she pushed it around the pan with a spatula, letting her thoughts gather, and then the story of calling Spencer’s phone on New Year’s Eve began to spill out, ending with her telling her mum all about the solid shoulder she’d been crying on for a good few months now. ‘I think it made a difference,’ she said. ‘Having someone to talk to who not only could empathize but who’d also experienced the same thing.’
As the words left her mouth, she realized she still wasn’t clear on the details of Brody’s loss, even though she’d asked him about it a handful of times. Reviewing the conversations they’d had over the last couple of months, she noticed a pattern – every time she asked him a more personal question, he sidestepped it, but he did it so neatly, deflecting the conversations back in her direction, that she’d never spotted the trend until that moment. What was up with that? She made a mental note to pin him down properly when they next spoke.
‘I’m glad you found someone you could talk to,’ her mother said. ‘But didn’t the grief support group help with that?’
Anna shook her head. ‘It’s not the same. It felt so forced, sitting in that dingy room, spilling everything out to strangers.’
‘But this man on the phone, he was a stranger too, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes, he was,’ Anna said. ‘At first…’
‘So how is that different?’
‘I don’t know if can explain it, because I’m not really sure I can pin it down myself. Maybe it’s the fact it was just an anonymous voice, no expectations, no judgement. All I know is that it helped.Hehelped.’ As Anna stirred her curry mixture, she was overcome by a sudden conviction. ‘Everyone who’s lost someone should have the opportunity to talk like that, Mum. Not counselling or therapy, although those things are good – but with someone who gets it because they’ve walked that path.’
Her mother smiled the very same smile she used to give when Anna brought home her nearly always glowing school reports. ‘Well, that sounds like a great idea!’
Anna squinted at her mother. ‘What idea?’
‘Setting up something for widows and widowers to talk to each other. I’ve been saying for ages that you needed a project to work on, something to feel excited about.’
Anna nodded slowly. Her motherhadbeen saying that. For months, if not years, just as Gabi had. But she hadn’t been ready to listen to them, had she? It had taken ages for her to relent to any of Gabi’s suggestions for evening classes, and even longer before she’d found a class she enjoyed. But here she was now, nine months of salsa under her belt, and actually looking forward to it each week. Maybe there was something in what her mother was suggesting too?
‘I wouldn’t know where to start,’ she confessed.
‘No, me neither. I mean, you found this Brody by accident. How would anyone else do it? You can’t just start at the top of the phone book and begin dialling random numbers – if anyonehadphone books anymore!’
Her mother was smiling now, and Anna smiled back. The idea was wonderful, but there were other things she needed to focus on at present. ‘Anyway, Mum, what I’m really trying to get across is that I’m ready to make some changes to my life.’She took a deep breath. ‘And that includes starting to date…’
‘Oh!’ She’d obviously caught her mum off guard with that one. ‘Oh, Anna… I think that’s… Well, it’s a big step. But it’s wonderful!’
‘I have to admit, I’m terrified.’
‘Of course! But if you think you’re ready… Is it this Brody chap?’
Anna blinked. Brody? ‘Um. No. He…’ Her brain tangled around that idea. That was clearly impossible, because… because… ‘No, it’s not Brody, Mum. He’s just a friend.’ But even as her mouth said the word ‘friend’, she realized that was a pale and faint description for what Brody had come to mean to her. She shook her head, unable to process that thought right then. ‘His name is Jeremy. He’s from salsa. He’s asked me out before – a few months ago – and classes have just started up again after the summer break. He’s still single, and I think he’s still interested.’ She’d had a brief conversation with him after class, and although she was out of practice at this sort of thing, she thought she was reading things correctly.
‘Oh, well do keep me updated on—’
Anna became aware of an acrid smell from the frying pan. She looked down and swore. ‘I’d better go, Mum! I’m burning the dinner!’
‘Of course, of course,’ she replied. ‘Love you, darling! Now go and save that delicious curry!’
Anna said a hasty goodbye, then turned her attention to her dinner. Was the chicken charred? She inspected it with her spatula, turning different bits over. Maybe a little. But not so badly she needed to abandon the dish.So what if it was a little smokier than normal?
She tipped the can of coconut milk into the pan and stirred. As she put the rice on, her thoughts returned to her conversation with her mother. How wonderful it would be if everyone could find their own ‘Brody’. But how would you do it?
She glanced across to her phone still sitting on the shelf and reached for it, intending to use the timer function to make sure she didn’t burn the rice as well, but when she saw row upon row of colourful icons, she froze.
An app.
She shook her head as she picked up the phone and set the timer going, then she put the phone back on the shelf and looked at it, watching the numbers counting down to when her dinner would be ready.
Was that even possible? Just the thought made something surge inside her chest. She didn’t know. However, she knew a couple of people who might.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
