‘Do you think the group could manage this coup without my direct involvement? They could use my piece as evidence. But I could stay all aloof and “no comment” about it and make myself look like some sort of martyr to the Millers.We were wrong about Fickle Sully. Turns out she actually sacrificed her career for Joshua’s …’
Rach pulls out of the hug. ‘Are you even listening to yourself?’ Her brain is ticking over. The same brain that tackles cyber espionage, so I’m hoping it’s about to deliver some ingenious solution.
‘Okay, hear me out,’ she begins. ‘What if you reach out to Josh?’
She can’t be serious. ‘Confiding in Josh is how I got here! Oh, God, this conversation is making me anxious. Let’s talk aboutsomething else. Let’s have a deep-dive into your train-wreck date with TinFoilHat Timothy from Tinder,’ I suggest. ‘I thought you refused to be on the apps?’
She grimaces. ‘A momentary lapse,’ she explains. ‘Worse than expected. Never going back. But listen, maybe Josh has changed?’
‘You’d have more luck changing Timothy’s opinion on the moon landing,’ I reply. ‘Joshhaschanged. He’s fed on his own success, and now he’s an even more narcissistic version of the person who threw me to the wolves at the outset. There’s no scenario in which I involve him that ends with me and Fraser in a better place.’
I step out of the way of a speeding electric scooter, coffee spilling on my shirt, and I try to mop it up with my sleeve as Rach shouts one of her trademark grandmotherly insults at the offending rider: ‘This is a shared zone, you incompetent ninny!’ She looks back at me and says, ‘Reporting these wretches could grant you back the credit for the best piece of music you ever wrote. The publicity alone would open opportunities. Your career could blow up!’
Do I want it to?I’ve been playing it safe for so many years, the idea of taking off now makes me queasy.
‘I don’t mind my plan B,’ I reply. Word soon spread at Parker’s school about how well she was doing with our lessons, and I picked up a bunch of other students. I teach at home while Fraser is at the university. It leaves me with flexibility to write my own stuff and share the creative process with Parker. She and I are writing a surprise piece for Fraser’s upcoming fortieth, and this bond with her is the magic in my life. ‘It mightn’t be the big, glossy, international composing career I was tracking towards at twenty, but I’m pretty happy.’
It isn’t that yet, Fraser reminds me. He has infinite faith in my capacity to take the long way around.
‘Youdon’t mind it. You’repretty happy.You were so ambitious, once. I worry this won’t be enough for you.’
Rach voices my internal angst with a best friend’s accuracy. But I’m looking for the least worst outcome here. Right now, Fraser and Parker matter more than my professional life.
She tosses her coffee cup in a bin. ‘Promise me you’ll talk to Fraser before you decide? It’s his brother, after all. And you’re his partner.’
Yes.Why would I ever force him to choose?
‘Audrey, can we talk?’ he asks, two hours later.
Has he got wind of this already?
‘Don’t panic, it’s not about us!’
Now he’s unlocked a new fear. This man is heaven. We can’t entertain any we-need-to-talk-level issues. Everything is going far too well. He leads me to the swing seat on the back balcony, in the kind of filtered afternoon sunlight that should invite happy conversations about books and films and holiday plans and how this is the best relationship of both of our lives. Not whatever dire news he’s about to drop.
‘It’s about me,’ he says, a calm expression attempting to fight its way onto his grave face.
A trap door opens beneath me, trying to suck me through.What’s wrong with Fraser? Is he sick? Trouble at work?
‘I went to the doctor today—’
Oh, God!Blood rushes from my heart. I amstrickenat the idea that he’s unwell.
‘I think it’s just pressure from work,’ he says, brown eyes wary, as if this is the most naked admission of his life. ‘She’ssuggested I take some time off and given me something to help. Mentally. An antidepressant, Audrey. For moderate depression.’
He reveals every part of the statement as though it’s a mini chapter, edging us towards the denouement. I hold the silence that follows as if it is sacred. Brain spinning. We can work with this. He’s not dying.Why would he be?Oh, this is a relief. Not that he’s struggling, obviously, but—
‘It’s not because I’m not happy with you,’ he says, even though the thought had never entered my mind. I look at him, all off-duty academic in jeans and boots and a steel-blue knit jumper, earnest expression imploring me to believe we are safe, despite this storm.
I place a reassuring hand on his arm. ‘Of course it’s not that. I’m so sorry you’ve been struggling. You should have told me.’
He pulls me tight against his chest and kisses the top of my head, while I listen to his steady heartbeat. This man is strong. He’ll wrestle this, particularly now that he’s involving me in it. Nevertheless my mind is hit with a barrage of news stories and social media posts always with long lists of helplines beneath them, and I squeeze my eyes shut to try to banish the mental pictures.
‘I worry there’ll be ramifications if it gets around at work,’ he confides. ‘You know:Fraser isn’t coping. Should we rethink that promotion to full professor?’
I sit upright again. ‘That would be discrimination, obviously. Half your department is probably medicated for one thing or another. I was too once, back when—’ I stop short. ‘The point is I can empathise. Don’t ever hold this in, Fraser. We just need to keep talking.’
‘Wasn’t that the gig I signed up for?’ he reminds me. ‘We tell each other everything?’ His fingers touch the side of my face as he draws me into a slow kiss. The kind that feels like mentaltelepathy, as if every brush of the lips is a conversation.I adore you. We’ll get through this.
