Billy almost smiled, shaking his head as though in disbelief.
‘No. Not River. I’m very much a taken man. In fact, my wife and I have a son. He’s three.’ Billy paused, regarding Cohen thoughtfully. ‘He was born deaf.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Cohen said.
But Billy sat taller. ‘I’m not,’ His voice was firm, unwavering. ‘He’s perfect the way he is. And mate, if you want to get with River, you need to drop any pity you feel about her deafness. The deaf community is a proud one, and River ... she does a lot for it. My wife and I met River through Action on Hearing Loss, a support centre. In exchange for babysitting, Lucy and I help out in the ice creamery on occasion.’
‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ Cohen said quietly.
‘I know.’ Billy nodded. ‘Look, the deaf don’t want pity. Understanding, yes. Compassion, yes. But pity? Never.’
‘I don’t pity her.’ Cohen was defensive, his hackles raised. ‘I admire her.’
Billy must have liked that because the stiffness in his body seemed to melt, and he gave Cohen an approving grin. And damn, but momentarily Cohen felt sick with envy. Because Billy had smile lines,actual indentationsin his skin that showed the world how happy he was. And once again, Cohen was given a tantalising glimpse into the lives of others. People who lived and loved and slept and woke and ate and drank without the screaming agony of never being enough. People who were so happy with their lot in life that they smiled enough to permanently mark their skin.
‘Good,’ Billy said firmly. ‘You admire her. That’s good. Maybe you’re different to the others.’
‘What others?’ Cohen asked tightly, another hot flash of jealousy searing his soul.
But now Billy’s face dropped, the lines around his eyes dipping back into the crevices of his skin.
‘What others?’ Cohen asked again.
‘Look, mate ... they aren’t my stories to tell,’ Billy replied sadly. ‘They’re hers.’
Cohen went to open his mouth, ready to demand an explanation. Suddenly, he recalled River’s questionnaire. The line that had made his heart thump painfully:I’ve been wrong about this feeling before.Now, he saw that sentence in a whole new light.
What others?his mind asked, but he made himself pause and considered the situation. Of course, he wanted to learn everything he could about River, but he also knew he needed to be patient. He needed to allow River the space to open up to him in her own time. He needed to let her tell her own stories in her own way. So, he bit his tongue, nodding slowly.
‘Alright,’ he found himself saying. ‘I can respect that.’
And again, Billy must have liked that. Because there was that smile again, with those damn lines.
‘So, look, it’s December and nearly Christmas. People are shopping for gifts and food, but they’re also stopping for ice cream so that the little ones behave. The place is jammed, and there’s no way River’s going to be able to close up shop without Rushi killing her, or, as is much more likely, you.’
Cohen swallowed. He wanted to stay on the right side of Rushi – and by default, his mother – for as long as possible.
‘But River would like you to meet her at Trafalgar Square tonight, 8 p.m.,’ Billy continued. ‘Under Nelson’s Column. You know where that is?’
‘Of course I know where that is.’ Cohen was almost offended.
Billy shrugged. ‘Sometimes the tourists don’t.’
‘I’ve lived here a year, I’m not a tourist.’ Cohen’s words were hot.
Billy crossed his arms. ‘Tell me who Nelson was, and I'll believe you.’
‘Well, he was ... well, he had that ...’ Cohen stumbled. ‘Look, I know he had a boat ...’
Billy gave a wide grin. ‘He had a whole navy, actually. But still, you just gave a better answer than my Lucy ever did.’
Cohen raised an eyebrow. ‘Your wife is American?’
‘A California girl through and through.’
Cohen had been to California. He remembered his father dragging the family there on vacation, the three of them squeezed into his dad’s beat up old camper van. Four, if you counted Tam, who Jim always let ride shotgun because ‘dogs get carsick too, Cohen’.
‘Don’t you ever think about going there?’ Cohen asked Billy, genuinely interested. ‘The sunshine there has got to beat the grey days here.’
