‘No, of course I don’t want you to cry off. I want you to have fun. I’ll be fine.’
‘Are you sure? I don’t like to think of you alone.’
‘Don’t pity me because I’m at home tonight! I’m seeing people at work today.’ I realise how lame that sounds. ‘And I love putting my feet up and watching trashy TV. I spent years battling jet lag all day every day and never being at home to watch any TV. I’ve earned this downtime.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘I am. Go. Have fun! Report back on the spa.’
Mum gives me a hug, says goodbye and then goes off for yet another fun weekend with Daniel.
I move through the first part of the weekend as if it’s a paint-by-numbers Saturday. I get up, get dressed, stretch, make a smoothie, dress for London’s permanently inclement weather in gym leggings, a zip-up top and a baseball cap. No one recognises me any more these days, so the cap isn’t strictly essential, but I like it all the same. I love my new job, my new life. I love how I can live at a slow pace. Nearly ten years of the jetset lifestyle paid for my flat, put money in my bank account and gave me a grand tour of the world I’d never have been able to afford otherwise. But I was overdue a change – a more healthy life. I’m no longer saying no to certain foods because ‘I have a shoot.’ Instead I eat everything in moderation. I like myself better now. I didn’t realise that was going to be one of the upshots of winding down my modelling life and ramping up a more wholesome kind of job. I’m less stressed. More available: to friends, to my mum, to myself. It’s good now.
Throughout the day I teach a range of classes from beginner to advanced, and then I join my new gym friends at a reformer Pilates class, which gives me the kind of deep stretch I’ve been craving all day.
I help tidy up the gym and make my way home as it’s getting dark. The new sushi place isn’tthatnew any more, so it’s easier to get a seat than it was this time last month. It’s bar-seating only, and a conveyor belt of sushi goes round and round past the sixty or so seats in a swirlingfigure-of-eight pattern. A chair for one doesn’t take long to find, and fifteen minutes later I’m treating myself to a sushi dinner.
This place is a little like if YO! Sushi went seriously upmarket and bougie. The music is like being in a nightclub, and I move my head in time to it while scanning the plates going past. The fish is so fresh it’s to die for and I plan to indulge. I really want a California roll and I’m waiting patiently for one to appear. Because the menu is high-end, it’s taking a while for some of the more recognisable dishes to find their way out of the open kitchen. I spy a chef gently placing a stack of my dream dinner onto the conveyor and I sit up straight in anticipation. It’s got a long way to go before it reaches me, but with any luck, as so many people are immersed in conversation and with stacks of plates piled up next to them, maybe no one will take this one.
The plate passes about ten people and then someone airlifts it from the conveyor. ‘Oh, come on,’ I say under my breath. I’ll have to eat something else, because who knows when the same dish will emerge. I watch the hand holding it, as the man looks as if he might be putting it back. My gaze tracks up his arm towards his face and then I sit up even straighter. ‘Ben,’ I say aloud, but nowhere near loud enough for him to hear me through the thumping music.
Ben puts the plate in front of him. I can hardly shout at him, so I grab my phone.Oi!I text.
Next to him, Ben’s phone lights up and he lifts it. I watch him smile and then put his phone back down.Oh, nice. Thanks, Ben.
He turns to the person at his side and then I sit in total confusion as I see who he’s with.
Ben is with Toby, who glances at Ben’s phone and mouths, ‘Who’s that?’
I watch Ben’s mouth spell out my name, and Toby makes what I can only describe as a sympathetic face. Nice! Why the fuck are these two out, in a sushi bar only two blocks from my flat, and haven’t invited me? When did they become friends? Two of my closest friends are having sushi together on a Saturday night and they haven’t even told me they’re mates. Why?
Ben picks up his phone, smiles again and replies to me. My phone lights up withOi yourself.
He puts his phone down and lifts the dome on what should be my California roll. Toby reaches over with his chopsticks, lifts a piece of sushi up deftly and then it’s as if everything I ever thought I knew about Ben disappears in a cloud of my own ignorance, as Toby lifts the sushi towards Ben’s mouth and feeds it to him. I watch Ben chew, smile, give Toby a loving kiss and then he pulls away and looks at his phone curiously, waiting for me to reply while he chews.
I can’t reply. I can’t do anything. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say, what to think, what to feel. I’m not even sure I’m breathing any more. Or blinking. I’m just staring. My hand is over my mouth in total surprise and plates of sushi keep moving past me.
I watch Ben pick up his phone again.What’s up?he texts as I see my phone flash up with his message.
Instead of answering, I pull my baseball cap down overmy eyes and grab the nearest plate of I-don’t-know-what, lift the dome and basically spear it with a chopstick, because I’ve lost all sense of how to function right now and I can’t process what I’ve seen.
I chew, not really tasting my food, and then I reach for my water, knocking it over with my fingertips and causing the two people on either side of me to jump to attention; one offers their napkin, while the other starts mopping up our counter space. The commotion wasn’t loud, not compared to the music, but the action of us moving at speed to clear up draws enough attention for Ben and Toby – my two friends I’ve just watched being so intimate with each other – to look over.
Ben glances away, not spotting me, but Toby’s mouth falls open as he recognises me. He grabs Ben’s arm, drawing his attention, and then Ben looks towards me and I see him mouth two words.
‘Oh, fuck!’
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
‘So let me get this right,’ I say as we’re sitting on my sofa half an hour later. All thoughts of me eating dinner were replaced by the need to understand something crucial that I’ve totally missed and that has been kept a secret from me. Ben looks so embarrassed, and Toby looks as if he’s been caught in the crossfire. ‘This has been going on forhow long?’
Ben doesn’t answer, so I look at Toby.
‘About eighteen months. Off and on.’
‘Oh my God! Eighteen months! What? How …?How?’
‘It just happened,’ Toby says and then Ben looks up, but he can’t meet my gaze.
