‘I did hear something about that, yes.’
A pang goes through me. He knew about it? Wasn’t he worried about me?
‘Did you stay in contact with Michael?’ I ask quietly.
‘Not really,’ he says. ‘I’d only hear things through the grapevine. I tried not to ask.’
‘Why?’
He shrugs and stares straight ahead. ‘Fresh start,’ he says bluntly. Then: ‘Here we are, now.’
We come to a stop outside a tiny restaurant with red and white checked curtains at the windows. I peer inside and see candles lighting the tables. Cosy. Ben opens the door for me and I walk through.
‘Benjamin!’ A flamboyant middle-aged Italian man bustles towards us.
‘Hello, Marco,’ Ben says affectionately.
‘So long since I have seen you!’
Ben shrugs. ‘Sorry.’
‘And now you have a new lady friend, no?’ He glances at me.
New?I take it we’re not talking about his ex-wife, here.
‘An old friend,’ Ben corrects him. ‘Lily, this is Marco.’
‘Hello,’ I say, wondering about the existence of other women in Ben’s life.
‘Come, come.’ Marco urges us towards a table at the back. ‘No window,’ he says regretfully. ‘You should have booked.’ He glares theatrically at Ben, who just shrugs.
‘This is fine.’
‘I bring you some menus. To drink?’
‘Lily?’
‘I might switch to red,’ I say to Ben. ‘A glass of house red, please.’
‘A Peroni,’ Ben answers, before turning to me.
‘This is nice,’ I say, looking around. ‘Do you come here much?’
‘Not really.’
I force a smile which I hope appears cheeky and unbothered. ‘So what’s this about your lady friends? You bring a lot of girls here?’
He looks down. ‘No one special. Not for a long time.’
Relief floods my veins. A waitress returns with our drinks and a couple of menus. We turn our attention to food.
‘Tell me what happened after I left,’ Ben says when we’ve placed our order.
I was heartbroken. I was like the walking dead.
‘I went to school. Made some new friends.’
‘I told you you would.’
