What on earth is happening to me? And why now? Why today?
I put the pencil I’m holding down and stare blankly at my computer screen.
Well, that is the one thing that does make sense. The fourteenth of May is probably the most important date in mycalendar. Not only is it the date I got married and the date of every wedding anniversary afterwards, but it’s also the day I met Luke. He always joked it was his lucky day, said we better keep doing important things in line with that just so we didn’t jinx it.
And twelve years later, look where that got us. Maybe youcanhave too much of a good thing.
I always thought the work at this small firm of probate genealogists was easy, but after an eight-year break, I discover I have no memory of how to use Dobson’s rather antiquated, custom-built family tree software, which results in me sending reports to the wrong people, accidentally deleting birth certificates linked to a pending case and then, just before lunch, Janine comes striding over to me.
‘You have just embarrassed me hugely!’ she says at an uncomfortable volume as I hunker down in my cubicle and try to look penitent. ‘I asked for the details for the De Mornay estate and you sent me the wrong file! I just told a completely different potential heir their estranged brother had died and he was possibly the sole beneficiary of his rather large estate!’
I swallow. ‘Um … sorry?’
Janine is not placated. ‘I just spent the last twenty minutes apologizing profusely.’
‘I … I … don’t know how it could have happened,’ I stammer. ‘Was he really, really upset?’
Janine puts her hands on her hips. ‘How would you feel if you thought for a few brief moments you were going to have a windfall of half a million pounds and then discovered it was someone else’s inheritance? I had to quickly pull up the right family tree and recheck all the details.’
I frown. ‘He wasn’t upset about his brother?’
Janine lets out a frustrated huff. ‘He seemed more upset he was still alive,’ she mutters but then regains herself. ‘But this is completely unacceptable, Jessica. You’re going to have to rethink your future at this company if you continue to make these kinds of mistakes!’
Priya’s head pops up from behind her cubicle partition and she makes a face, then mouths the words, ‘he seemed more upset he was still alive’ along with a rather passable impression of our boss’s facial expressions and mannerisms, only to have to duck down again when Janine, who’s almost at the door to her office, spins around to see what’s going on. I clamp my hand over my mouth and screw my face up to stop myself laughing, only daring to move when I hear Janine’s door slam shut behind her.
Slowly, I lift myself from my chair and look in Priya’s direction. Her eyes appear above her partition, full of mischief, and then the rest of her face. ‘Time for lunch?’ she mouths, and I nod back enthusiastically. We laugh all the way to the café around the corner where we always used to escape and grab a sandwich.
‘Excited about tonight?’ she says, once we find somewhere to sit.
I release my chicken Caesar wrap from its cardboard and cellophane packaging and bite into it. I can’t think of anything worse. How can I face Luke again – even the twenty-four-year-old version of him – when I know the thirty-six-year-old version of him has just shattered my heart into a million pieces?
Priya knows me too well, because after looking at me for a few seconds she asks, ‘What’s up?’
I swallow my mouthful and turn to her. ‘I’m not sure I want to go.’
Her face falls. She’s been so excited to play the role of matchmaker with me and one of her brother’s friends. ‘Don’t say that! Listen, I know you didn’t like the idea of a blind date, but I promise you – you’re perfect for each other.’
I look down at my disposable coffee cup. Once upon a time, I thought that too. But it turns out what I think doesn’t count. In 2026, Luke walked out on me. If that isn’t a clear signal how far from a perfect wife I am for him, I don’t know what is. I tried so hard, too. I honestly don’t know what I could have done differently.
Priya must see the hesitation in my eyes, because she reaches for my arm and holds it gently. ‘Will you do it? For me?’
I sigh and take another bite of my wrap.
I arrive atRive Gauche,a bougie little restaurant just outside Borough Market a few minutes before seven o’clock. It feels as if I’m walking to my own execution. Either I’m having the weirdest dream of my life, or an extended hallucination, or I’m dead, this is the afterlife, and I’m being punished for my sins, which clearly revolve around my disaster of a marriage. A marriage I thought was ‘not great but okay’ until less than twenty-four hours ago. Or twelve years in the future, whichever way you want to calibrate the timeline.
This is all so confusing. If I start to try and work it all out, I just feel sick and dizzy, so I do what I do best: concentrate on the ‘now’ and push all the other stuff away to deal with another day. It’s easier to follow the script that Luke and I set out for ourselves the first day we met. I know how it goes – we’ll havedinner. We’ll laugh and talk and get on like a house on fire. He’ll walk me to the station, and I’ll go home alone.
I’m not floating above my body as I enter the restaurant, but I do feel as if I’m detached from everything that is going on around me. A message arriving causes my phone to vibrate. I don’t bother to check it. I know what it says. It’s from Luke, saying he’s running late because of signalling problems on the Underground.
The first time around, I thought he was making excuses, that possibly he was going to leave me high and dry, but now I know he was telling the truth, because he arrived at the restaurant breathless, twenty minutes late, and a relieved smile spread all over his features when he looked through the glazed front door and saw me sitting in a crimson dress at the bar. Priya and her brother had refused to show us photos of each other, so we’d both agreed to wear something red – me the dress and him a scarf.
Priya’s reason at the time was that the ‘effect’ of Luke was better had first time in person. Later, she’d admitted it was also partly because she knew I’d say I was punching above my weight in the looks department and make excuses to get out of it. She was right, though. I almosthadbolted when he’d turned that smile on me, sure he was going to be polite and charming but would then dash my hopes by never calling me ever again.
Priya also told me I needed to work on my self-esteem. She was one hundred per cent right. But that was then and this is now; I’ve tried to work on my confidence issues, so maybe I can bring an extra twelve years of experience to this night now I’m doing it second time around.
It doesn’t stop my stomach churning as I perch on the bar stool, sipping a large glass of Pinot Noir, waiting for my futurehusband to arrive. Every ten seconds, I’m tempted to lurch off my stool and run for the door.
At about ten past seven, the door opens, and the sounds of the bustling market outside momentarily invade the restaurant. I look up to see a well-groomed man in a suit, overcoat and burgundy cashmere scarf walk in.
