There’s always abutwhen it comes to his family.
‘ … Cassie and Zach are going to go for the second hour of visiting time, so we’ve got to fit it in before that.’
I cringe inwardly as I ask my next question. ‘Do you … I mean, do you think … Do you have to go today?’
He went yesterday and the day before, and I’m sure he’ll go tomorrow. The doctors are saying everything went fine, so there’s no panic.
His shoulders droop. ‘Dad was still groggy yesterday and not in the mood for talking much. And Mum says he’s in much better spirits today. I haven’t been able to have a proper conversation with him since the op.’ He puts his phone down and comes over to me, puts his hands on my upper arms. ‘Would you mind if we did this … ’
‘Later?’ I finish for him and slip out of his grasp so I can go and put the stuff that needs to be kept cold back in the fridge.
He grimaces. ‘I was going to say “tomorrow”.’
I pause in unbuckling the leather straps of the old picnic basket I raced round to borrow from Han earlier this afternoon. I look back at him and try not the let the disappointment broadcast from me like a beacon. I tried so hard. And I’ve only got seven more days – seven more anniversaries – to salvage my marriage before I’m back at that party again. At this rate, this whole day will be a write-off, and I don’t know if I can afford that. My efforts seem to be working, but are these tiny course adjustments on only one day a year going to be enough? I can’t tell.
‘I’m sorry, Jess, I truly am. I’m so touched you did this, but …
‘How about I come with you? We can go and visit your dad and then have the picnic afterwards?’ I can’t give up, and I havethe sense Luke will only be ready to collapse onto the sofa and watch some mind-numbing true crime series when we get back home.
Luke looks unconvinced but he blinks slowly, looking wearier than I’ve seen him in a long time. ‘Sure.’
It’s cold outside the hospital. I’m sitting on a bench to the right of the front entrance, clutching the handle of the picnic basket on my lap. There are a couple of bits of broken wicker on the bottom that are digging into my legs through the flowery summer dress I’m wearing. I may have been overly optimistic about the temperature this evening.
I would have gone to visit Luke’s dad with him, but there’s a strict two-visitors-at-a-time limit. The sun was still above the surrounding houses when he went in, but now it’s dipped behind the roofs and the temperature’s nose-dived with it. I shiver and resist looking at my phone to check the time.
It’s hard not to feel on the outside, both physically and metaphorically. It’s not that Luke’s family haven’t been incredibly warm and welcoming to me. It’s just somehow, even in the midst of all the hugs and talking and laughter, I always feel like the odd one out. The way they love each other makes my heart ache.
Luke finally emerges ten minutes’ later.
‘How’s he doing?’ I ask, standing up.
‘Good,’ he replies, rubbing his eyes. ‘He was teasing the nurses, so he’s definitely feeling more like his old self.’
I see the relief wash over my husband as he says this. He must have been more scared than he let on. I reach out and rub hisshoulder. ‘You must be starving. How about we wander round the corner to the “peace garden” and eat some of this before you drop where you stand?’
I can tell he’s tempted to ask if we can take it back home, but he nods and smiles. ‘Of course.’
A few minutes’ later, the blanket is stretched out on the neatly clipped grass of the small garden full of benches with a fountain to one side, somewhere restful for patients or family members to sit in the midst of whatever crisis they’re going through. I’m certainly praying it’ll work its magic on us. I can do with all the help I can get.
We dig into the wraps I made and the little pots of deli items, finishing it off with a plastic flute full of cava. Only a small one for me, as I said I’d drive home, but we can polish the bottle off once we get there.
After we’ve finished discussing his dad’s progress, Luke says, ‘You’ll never guess who I ran into last week. It’s been so busy with Dad’s op that I forgot to mention it.’
‘Oh, really? Who?’
‘Elena. Do you remember her? She was at our wedding. Her husband, Felix, was one of my college roommates. Well, he was her boyfriend at the time, but you know what I mean.’
Of course, I know Elena much better now than I did then, but I’d forgotten it was around this time they’d run into each other again. ‘Yes. I remember her – and Felix.’
‘Well, it seems they’ve moved to South East London because of Felix’s new job in the City. She was all artsy back at uni, and still is, I suppose, but now she’s doing interior design. I bumped into her at the tiling warehouse, where she was picking out flooring for a customer’s kitchen.’
Elena is certainly not the sort of person you’d imagine frequents dusty, dirty tiling warehouses. In our future, I always thought she dressed like one of those women onThe Apprentice, all tailored clothes and glossy, tumbling long hair. ‘We should invite her and Felix round for dinner some time,’ I say, pre-empting what I’m guessing will be Luke’s next move. ‘They’re a nice couple.’ For now, at least … ‘And talking of people we’ve run into … Did I tell you I was going to meet Mum for coffee today?’
‘You did?’
I nod and make a ‘hope you don’t mind’ face. ‘I, um … lent her a bit of money to tide her over.’
He finishes his mouthful of pitta bread dipped in hummus and asks, ‘She’s going to pay it back, isn’t she?’
