‘OK,’ he answers.
‘It’s not OK,’ I say quietly. I don’t want anyone else to hear what is about to be an awkward conversation, so I lower my voice to a whisper. ‘I’ve missed you,’ I say, because I can’t lie to him.
‘Have you?’ he whispers back.
‘Yes.’
We’re turned towards each other. The woman he’s with is talking to the person on her other side, and I don’t think Liv’s going to let Sam talk to anyone else all night, although directly opposite them people are straining to catch his every word. No one’s paying attention to us.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ Ollie says. Something flickers between us as his eyes read mine.
‘Aurora?’ Sam asks.
I turn. ‘Yep?’
‘The advert is due to start broadcasting next week, I was just telling Liv. In a few days’ time you’ll be on TV screenseverywhere.’
‘You’re alreadyeverywhere,’ Ollie says to himself and thenpicks up his drink, downs it in one and rests his hand on his leg, which is jiggling up and down.
‘No, I’m not.’
‘I feel as if you are. I can’t move around London without seeing you on posters.’ He says this as if it’s agonising.
‘Sorry,’ I apologise, although I’m not sure why. The moment is broken.
Ollie does indeed look agonised. I put my hand on his, instinctively, because the jittering is driving me nuts. His hand is warm and he needs some lotion on it – I assume because he spends all day in a hospital using sanitiser or washing his hands. At my touch, his leg stills and it’s as if it’s solely us in this room, it’s as if it’s only ever been just us. Slowly he lifts his fingers and interlaces them through mine. Neither of us speaks and I look down at our hands connected together.
He breathes in slowly, then breathes out equally slowly, whereas I’m not breathing at all. My lips part as if I’m going to say something, but I don’t know what to say, what to do. And then Ollie moves first, away from me, unlocking his fingers from mine and reaching for his glass, which is empty.
Further down the table, Ben lifts his water glass and taps it with his knife, making a sonorous noise that draws our attention. Then he makes a toast to Liv, which I barely hear. But I say, ‘Happy Birthday, Liv’ in unison with everyone else, drink champagne and wait for this night to be over.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
The white tablecloth is spattered with spilled wine and Liv’s giant white birthday cake has been sliced into pieces, crumbs dotted across the space in front of me where I’ve moved, so I can chat with Liv. I can’t help myself and I reach over and claw some broken icing that’s fallen from the cake and put it into my mouth. I try so hard to avoid cake, especially as my mum’s addiction to cooking us oven-chips looks like it’s not ending any time soon and I need to counteract that if I want to stay in the modelling industry.
The night is drawing to a close and a few people have left. Someone said they had to get back for their babysitter and it made me realise the years really are passing at speed. How do people our age have babies?
‘Where’s James tonight?’ I ask Liv. This is the first chance I’ve had to get her to myself. She mainlined Sam and stuck to him like glue.
‘We broke up,’ she replies.
‘What? When?’
‘I broke up with him …’ she looks at her watch, ‘twenty-four hours ago.’
‘What?’ I splutter. ‘How? Why? I thought you two were the real deal. I thought he was the one.’
‘Did you? I wasn’t sure he was the one,’ she says, sounding so matter-of-fact that I’m not sure how to react.
I’m frowning in consternation, but Liv looks lighter, airier, for not being with James. Or maybe it’s all the champagne she’s been drinking.
‘He just wasn’t for me.’
‘Oh,’ I reply, still not quite sure if she’s putting on a brave face or not. ‘Is there … any more to this?’
‘Not really,’ she says. ‘I knew it wasn’t right and I learned a long time ago not to hang on to something that wasn’t going anywhere. I can see the warning signs a mile off now.’
‘Oh,’ I repeat, rather pathetically. I want to be Liv – I’ve decided that. She’s so cool. Too cool for me. ‘Then … congratulations?’ I question. ‘If you’re not sad?’
