‘I’m fine. Just thinking about work stuff.’
That, at least, was a perpetually plausible excuse, and Fiona bought it immediately. ‘Your movers are downstairs, by the way. They pulled their truck up on the lawn, which means people are going to start shouting at them any minute, so you might want to go down and help them.’
It was another unusually warm day,41and Sadie and I both shed articles of clothing as we helped the removalists haul all the stuff we’d shipped over from the share house up to our apartment. ‘Why the fuck did we go into a career that – careful, mind the corner – required so manyfuckingbooks?’ Sadie panted, as we manoeuvred one of her bookshelves into place in her bedroom.
She rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead, leaving a long streak of dust. My fingers itched with an almost uncontrollable desire to reach over and gently wipe it away.
‘Jonah?’
‘Sorry,’ I said, trying to pull myself together. ‘I thought that question was rhetorical.’
Of course, Isamu – apparently not yet convinced that he had done enough for us – chose that moment to walk in carrying an especially heavy box of my books like it weighed nothing.42
Sadie and I had disagreed strenuously over who should get the slightly larger bedroom, but eventually I’d proved victorious, insisting that she, as the person who had actuallygotthe job that brought us here, should take it. Thankfully, our removalists were the kind who took apart and rebuilt your furniture for you,43and they had put together Sadie’s bed and were halfway through mine when Fiona returned from her dual mission of placating our neighbours and getting us coffee.
‘Why did you bother shipping two beds over?’ she asked, putting the cardboard coffee-tray down on the black stone kitchen bench.
‘In case we have guests,’ I said, at the same time as Sadie said, ‘Airbnb.’
Fiona looked quizzically between us.
‘We wanted to keep our options open,’ Sadie said. ‘Exactly,’ I improvised. ‘If someone wants to come and visit us, then we’ve got a spare room. If we need a bit of extra cash every now and then, we can list it on Airbnb. Which one of those coffees is mine?’
Fi passed the one markeddecafto me, seemingly satisfied with our comically bad handling of her very simple question. ‘I also have a gift for you. Two gifts, actually.’
The first one was from Isamu’s brother Satoshi. ‘He wanted to welcome you to Bellerive,’ Fiona explained, presenting Sadie with abeautiful gift box stamped with the Tsundoku logo, which contained cheese, condiments, crackers, and a bottle of riesling. ‘And also thank you for taking the apartment, because, in his words, “It’ll be a lot harder for Isamu to interfere in my bar from the vineyard than from around the corner.”?’
Then she handed me a rectangular object wrapped in sparkly pink paper with unicorns on it. ‘This one is from me. Sorry for the wrapping. I didn’t have time to buy anything more adult.’
I opened it, carefully freeing the tape from the paper so it wouldn’t rip. ‘Oh, Fi.’
She’d had three of our wedding photos framed. Two of them – one of us with our foreheads pressed together, and one of me kissing Sadie’s hand – were in small frames. The third – the one of me wrapping my jacket around her – was blown up bigger.
‘I thought these two could be for your desks at work,’ Fiona said, tapping the smaller ones, ‘and this one could hang right –’ she took the larger one from me, ‘here.’
There were three hooks on the wall in the living room. Fi hung the picture on the middle one, adjusting it carefully until it was straight. ‘I know you got married on the cheap, but your photographer did an excellent job.’
‘Yeah, they did,’ I agreed vaguely. I was going to have to write a very nice Google review about Going to Gretna Green.
Fi had chosen my favourite of the photos. My fingers were curled tightly around the lapels of the jacket, creating the illusion that I was using it to pull Sadie into me. Sadie was looking up at me, an emotion in her eyes that I knew, realistically, had been gratitude, but which the photographer had translated into something… else.
There was movement beside me. Sadie. She didn’t take my hand, but her fingers curled around the bare skin of my upper arm, like I was about to escort her into a ball. I stopped breathing.
‘I really like that one,’ she said.
‘Me too, darling,’ I murmured.
‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ Fi said. ‘It really shows how much you care about each other – oh God, I’m sorry.’
I had to sacrifice the feeling of Sadie’s fingers on my skin, because tears had started to stream down Fiona’s face. ‘Don’t cry,’ I said, pausing awkwardly for a moment before putting my arms around her. ‘It’s okay.’
‘I know, I know,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m being stupid.’
‘No you’re not.’ I tightened my grip on her. ‘You’re not stupid, Fiona.’
Her tears were soaking through the fabric of my shirt. I could feel them pricking at the corners of my eyes too, but I forced myself to hold them back. She had done her best to look after me when I was younger, and now it was my turn.
‘You’re not stupid,’ I told her firmly. ‘I know I’ve made you feel that way before, and I’m so sorry. I was wrong.’
